600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (3 page)

"Bleeding still ain't stopped," said the man kneeling over him.

"He ain't gonna make it," said the other. "God damn Mexicans. First Tim and Big John, and now we gonna lose Randy too."

"Ain't no one gonna lose nobody!" the old woman declared. She stooped down beside their fallen man, trying to sop up all the blood with a rag that was already soaked through.

"See what them Mexicans done," the fella pointing the gun at me said. "You better hope you ain't one of them, boy, because if you is, you gonna go just as bad. Now put them hands behind you. Alan, tie him up!"

He came from behind and roped my wrists real good, tight enough that after a while they started getting numb. I sat watching them, the night passing slowly, that groaning son of a bitch laying on the ground wrestling death until finally he breathed his last. It was real quiet after that. Their man dead, they didn't pay me no attention, except for the younger woman who kept staring at me with frightened eyes. I tried the best I could to get my hands loose when no one was looking, but though I'd already spent a long time working them ropes, so far I'd only succeeded in making my hands more numb.

They spent a while talking about what to do, though at last the old woman convinced the men that they should put their friend in the ground, watching them as they tried digging up a hole. The ground was too hard though, and not having any shovels there weren't much they could do, trying for some time with rocks and the butts of their rifles or anything else that was close at hand.

"It ain't gonna work!" one of them said.

It was then that one of my hands slipped free. My blood was racing and I held real still a moment, wondering if the quiet woman who'd been staring at me so much had seen me get loose. The rest were paying the digging too much attention, the two men cussing and saying it weren't going to work, the old woman yelling at them to try harder.

"Stop him, damn it! He's getting away!"

It was the old woman who'd seen me run. Then came the shouts from the men, though there weren't no bullets, neither being able to catch sight of me in the dark. I ran until I couldn't go no farther, laying on my belly behind the dry grass as I caught my breath. I couldn't see nothing, the glow of their fire from over the hill being the only thing I could make out. After a while, I knew they weren't coming, figuring I was long gone and that was that. I waited there for hours, until at last I could see the faint hint of dawn, the reddish glow of their fire having since faded out. I told myself not to, but it weren't no good fighting what I was fixing to do, knowing I had to go back.

Chapter 5

Weren't no one going to make a fool of me, and sure as hell weren't no one who was going to take my gun. No more making nice, I told myself. Problem though was that them men had rifles and I had nothing but my bare hands. I'd have to do it quiet then, like one of them deadly oriental warriors I once read about in one of them books I used to have. Shoot at my dog, shoot at me, steal my pistol—I weren't the turn the cheek kind. That's to say I weren't the kind to just take it. There was a score that needed settling, a reckoning to be had, and maybe we'd all just had a misunderstanding but they'd taken it too far and them men weren't going to even get the courtesy of being buried like their friend who'd been stabbed by the Mexican, if ever that hole had been dug for him, that is.

A reckoning indeed, just like Pete used to say. He had a way with words, that fella. He'd read a lot of things, a lot of stories from old times and had a poetry-like way of saying stuff and I'd envied him for that. Weren't that I were a dummy, though sometimes I admit I had a hard time with words, or not a hard time maybe, but I sure weren't no smooth-talker, though the time for that had already passed. Weren't no talking to do when I saw them boys. Just killing, if it came to that, and taking back what was mine.

I thought I heard them as I crept near, one of the men muttering something and shuffling around. I took off my boots, undoing one of the shoelaces, the plan being to strangle them in their sleep—or at least the men—one at a time. Or could be that I was a fool who was about to get shot, but there weren't no turning back because I sure as hell weren't going to keep going without my pistol that were the only thing worth dying for I had.

Sure enough, I spotted them, or at least one. There he was, Mr. Dog Shooter, just sitting there staring out across the desert with his rifle across his lap. Closer and closer I crept, the bastard not once looking my way. I was on my hands and knees, clutching that old shoelace, every second I neared being the second he might have turned and lifted up that rifle to shoot. But just like the oriental warrior you couldn't even see until it were too late, I was right up on his back with them others sleeping on unaware, though finally, right before I sprang, he caught wind of me and jumped.

It was too late. That old bootlace wrapped around his neck good and I pulled with all my might. The others must have been heavy sleepers, because as I choked the life out of him none of them stirred. It was just me and that fat bastard struggling in the dirt, with him making all sorts of terrible sounds, until at last he weren't fighting no more, just a big fat hunk of nothing laying under me, though I didn't stop until I was good and sure.

First thing I took was his rifle, then my pistol that sure enough was still tucked in his belt. There were a good number of bullets in his pocket and I took them too, always watching the others in case one of them suddenly came to, wondering if I should go ahead and shoot the other man while he was sleeping but not having the stomach for it after what I'd just done.

I was backing away, wanting to leave now that I had my pistol, when she stirred. Not the old one but the one who was younger, that quiet woman with the straw-colored hair who'd been staring at me when I was tied up, being the only one out of all of them I'd never heard say a word. She gasped, first seeing the man I'd just strangled then seeing me crouched there staring back, frozen, both of us, each waiting for what was going to happen next. I was still holding my pistol and she stared at it, then back at me, her scared expression telling me she weren't going to do anything as she slowly eased her head back down.

I lowered my pistol and she let out a quiet breath, her eyes silently thanking me for not killing her as I quietly slipped away. I quickly made my way back to where my boots were, though there weren't no alarm or sudden shout. After getting my bearings, I managed to find the stuff I'd left behind when I'd been captured, the sky getting lighter with every moment that passed.

It was as I was slinging my pack over my shoulder that I saw someone hurrying towards me, taking aim until I realized who it was. Then she was standing there, close enough that I could make out the details of her face. She was frightened, but there was something else there too, something hopeful and desperate.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. I looked past her, expecting to see the rest.

"Ain't no one know I followed you," she said. "Don't worry, it's just me."

I kept looking, wondering if it were some kind of trap.

"Please," she said, "I promise ain't no one else out there, mister. They're still sleeping."

"Ain't no way of knowing that," I said. "Just you mind yourself while I keep going. Your boy starts shooting at me and you're going to be the first to go."

"He ain't coming, I swear to you! Please, I came because you're the only one who can help."

"Help?"

"You gotta get me away from here! You don't know what them people is like, that awful old woman and them men who done some pretty bad things."

"You telling me they ain't your friends?"

"Friends? They ain't nothing of the sort. They're bad people. They took me from my husband some time ago. A year, maybe. I don't even know anymore."

"They kidnapped you?"

"No. My husband, he— He done got tired of me and traded me for a bunch of stuff they were hauling in that truck. Whiskey mostly, and a fancy pair of boots. Ain't too nice thinking about, that me a woman of flesh and blood weren't worth more to him than that, but so it is I guess."

It was the first time I'd looked her over real good, and weren't no way I could imagine a man who'd have traded her for no whiskey and a pair of boots. The old woman maybe, but this one, though not too young, weren't too hard on the eyes. Her face was dirty and you could see the hard lines, but her eyes were soft, pretty even, her ample curves hard not to notice until I caught myself staring and looked away.

"Listen, I don't know what you're expecting," I said, "but if you think I'm going to haul you all the way back to your husband, wherever he's at, you can stop thinking about it right now."

"My husband? God damn it, mister, ain't you heard nothing I've said? Now you listen to me. I saw you kill that man and if I had screamed you might not be standing here right now. I ain't saying you owe me nothing, just saying is all. I'm glad you killed him, truth be told. I only wish you'd killed the rest of them too. He was a horrible person, and maybe I don't know it and you're just the same, though I have a feeling you're not and if you take me along I can cook and carry things and do whatever else you ask. Just hurry up and let's go!" 

It weren't something I had to think about too long.

"Then come on, before them other two come looking for us. I ain't promising you nothing, but if you want to walk with me you can."

"It's all I could ask for, mister."

"All right. And stop calling me 'mister'. The name's Elgin."

Chapter 6

She ain't talk too much at first but it was all right by me. We didn't need to be drawing no attention, whether it was from them two who might have come looking for us or them Mexicans who might have still been around. "Gitty" she said her name was, which was as strange as any though she said it was what her daddy used to call her when she was a little girl, and though he had been dead a long time it stuck with her and she liked it much better than "Bridgette", which she said her name really was. I told her Bridgette sounded like a real pretty name to me, but weren't no convincing her of that. "Just plain old Gitty," she said, and so that's what I called her from then on.

Things were a bit stiff in the beginning, what with her not knowing what kind of man I was, and what with me not having had the company of a woman in a long time. Just how long it had been I couldn't quite remember. A few years maybe, maybe more, though no doubt it would have been an embarrassing thing to admit. It weren't that I was a bad looking fella, I think, or that I didn't have a certain charm. It was just that it were hard to find female company unless you had something worth giving, if you know what I'm saying, and, well, even if I did, it weren't something that I wanted to be paying for no more.

Not that me and Gitty was having company in that way, mind you. Just walking together was all we'd done. After a while, it seemed to me she were grateful, knowing I weren't going to be like them other men. God knows what kinds of uncons— un-
con
-sci-on-able  things those men who had bought her from her husband made her do, and God knows I didn't want to ask. Me, I were just happy not to be walking alone no more, and Gitty was even good at skinning rabbits and snakes and cooking them up for us, and I was good at making sure she didn't come to no harm.

Still, to be honest my eyes couldn't help but wander, because the longer we stayed together the gooder she looked, especially them strong legs and ample rear end. And them other parts, well, they was nice to look at too. I'd watch as she'd stoop to fetch water or tend to the fire or rub her tired feet, hitching her skirt up so high that there weren't much left to the imagination, even once as she bent over catching a glimpse of something too private to put into words.

I weren't too sure where the two of us was going anymore, though wherever we went it seemed like a good thing. Weren't like walking it alone, so lonely and cold and such. I mean cold like just no one around to keep me company, even at nights when it were still pretty warm. If there was one thing I knew, it was that being alone for too long had a way of eating away at a man, turning him mean and crazy so that after some time he just weren't fit for the company of other people no more.

Gitty asked me if we was still going to Lost Angeles like I first told her I were. "I ain't so sure," I said. "Seemed like a good idea, but I don't know. It's a dangerous place, no doubt. Maybe we could stay on a while here in Arizona. The weather's been real kind to us lately and there ain't no shortage of rabbits to shoot and plenty of water from the creek too."

"Maybe then. Whatever you think, Elgin."

It was good to hear a woman say my name again, even if we hadn't yet become better acquainted and such. Maybe that wouldn't be too long away though, because it seemed to me that apart from teasing me by hitching up her skirt while doing her chores, each night she was getting a bit closer, and I was starting to feel that it weren't by chance. Then one night I woke to find her pressed up right beside me, and though it were a bit chilly, it weren't so cold to make it something she had to do to keep warm. A man could only take so much of it, though weren't nothing I was supposed to be holding back no longer so I pressed up against her too, my you know what poking into her backside. She moved a little when I did that and her breathing stopped. Then she looked over at me and suddenly we kissed, knowing each other the way nature intended that warm summer night under the stars.

When we woke, there was a moment in which we was too shy to say much of anything, and then she smiled and I smiled too, nature once again telling us what needed to be done. Weren't no being shy after that to be sure, because one time and things was still a little embarrassing, but ain't no man and no woman ever done it a few without things being different from then on.

After that, Gitty seemed happier than I'd ever seen her, real content, like everything was just what she'd been hoping for, and as she sat near the creek bathing herself I came down beside her and she was smiling again as she looked up.

"I'm going to go have a look about," I told her. "Ain't no point in you coming along and wearing yourself out. Here, take this rifle and keep it close."

"Really? You don't want me to come hunting with you, Elgin?"

"Nah, you just keep an eye out here. Won't take me too long with all these jackrabbits hopping around. I'll get us a nice big one and you can skin it for us and cook it up."

I laid the rifle down near the water, Gitty looking to it like she were a little scared, or maybe just surprised.

"Now you just keep them feet nice and cool and I'll be back in no time at all."

I kissed her and left. And so it were that I weren't alone anymore. Them years had been so long and the going so hard that I were sure, especially after old Pete died, and then Eddie, that I were destined to walk the rest of my days alone. I'm not saying there were anything funny between me and them men. I'm just saying that they was the only company I'd known since way back long. And may the old fella rest in peace and Eddie too, because surely they was good friends, but now I had found more than I ever dreamed I'd have.

I made sure to get us a couple of good ones, them critters fast but not fast enough. Only two bullets, which was a good thing because I didn't have to waste ammo, and was also good because even one shot from my .357 was more than enough to hurt my ears for a while.

"Gitty!" I called as I came back to camp, them big jackrabbits dangling by the ears. She came out from behind the little shelter we'd made under an old willow tree, happy to see me back.

"Those are some real nice rabbits," she said to me, coming up and kissing my sweaty face. "Look at you, all hot and dirty. Come down to the water with me and we'll wash you up."

She looked even prettier than before, like she had done herself up the best she could given our rough circumstances, her hair neatly combed and tied back. We sat down near the creek and she took my hands and washed them real tender, then my arms, making me uncomfortable as she stared.

"Such a handsome man," she told me, "and kind too. I'm a lucky woman to have found you, Elgin."

"Aw, come on, you're just saying it. Ain't nothing handsome about this ugly face unless your head's had too much sun, because ain't no woman ever call me handsome before."

"Well they ain't had sense enough to recognize a good-looking man when they seen one."

"Whatever. Hell, ain't my fault I was born looking like I am."

"Ain't no shame in having black blood," she said.

"Ain't no black blood in me, woman. Ain't no Mexican either, if that's what you's going to guess next."

"Well, it don't make no difference to me what you are. I was just guessing."

"Navajo. My pa was Navajo."

"Navajo? Well that's a mighty proud thing to be."

"And my ma, she were as white as you. But I guess once you done got a drop of any kind of blood in you other than white, you's something else. Whatever. Enough of this gabbing. Are you going to skin them rabbits for us or what? I sure am hungry after all that hunting."

"I imagine you are, poor thing. Just you rest up and I'll get them ready."

I watched her go about it. Weren't many women I'd seen that could handle skinning and cleaning as good as her. Most of them didn't have much stomach for it, except the tough ones, and weren't too many of those around. At least not anymore. I didn't know why it was, but it seemed like they was getting less and less. You'd have thought the hard living would have toughened them up, but instead it seemed like it just wrung the strength right out of them. But not Gitty. She skinned them rabbits quicker than even I could and gutted them out and had them roasting before I even knew she'd put them on the fire.

"Smells like good rabbit," I said. "That was some fine work you did there, Gitty."

"And you'd be right saying it," she said.

Hers was a good smile and I couldn't help but notice what good teeth she had, a lot better than most. She got kind of shy when she realized I was staring at her, but I came close and we huddled up real cozy while we watched them rabbits cooking up. It was a good meal and that meat warmed me up as much as Gitty as the sun went down and the desert wind picked up.

"It gets so chilly out here," she said. "Not like Georgia where the air stays hot and thick all night."

"That's life in the desert," I said. "So you come from Georgia then? I never would have guessed it. I reckoned you for a Texas gal for sure."

"How's that?"

"Well, they always come so well-built and hearty out of Texas. The women I mean. I ain't known too many, but the ones I have was almost as long-legged and good looking as you. Must be what they feed them gals out there. Most beautiful women in the world, I'd say."

She blushed a little, her eyes falling as she reached up and swirled a lock of her straw-colored hair around her finger. "It's very kind of you to say so, Elgin, if you ain't just saying it, that is. But I ain't no young gal anymore. You should have seen me when I was though. I reckon you would have really liked what you seen back then."

"Aw, you ain't old, Gitty. You're still a fine looking woman and I'm right lucky to have you. Hell, how old are you supposed to be anyway? I'd say no more than thirty-two."

She laughed and told me I was making it up just to make her happy, though it was plain that she were real flattered too. And maybe I was stretching the truth a bit, but she still looked real good to me and there was a funny feeling in my chest from just being next to her and staring into them big blue eyes. Ain't nothing wrong with a man saying that kind of thing neither, because most fellas might have thought themselves too tough but I weren't afraid to feel tender things and say it like it were, especially for a woman like Gitty.

Sure enough we was kissing again, and then before we knew it—well, I guess I don't need to go into all that. Afterward we laid near the fire under our shelter of dead branches and aluminum siding that did good in keeping the wind off of us and looked up at the stars, just me and my Gitty, all alone, and though I kept my pistol close as I always did, it seemed there weren't nothing to worry about no more. The desert was peaceful and had been real kind to us lately. It would take care of us, I knew. And if not, well then I vowed that there weren't nothing that were going to hurt Gitty ever again, not without getting through me, that is, me and my .357 Magnum revolver: Smith and Wesson, nickel-plated, black rubber grip, without a doubt one of the best goddamn six-shooters known to man.