Dark Grace (21 page)

She looked tired, and still a bit in shock over Gus’ demonstration of skill in killing.
Perhaps from mine as well. “Please. I can admit I’m not the strongest on my own.”

“What about the Runner in the back of the truck?”
I asked.

“I’ll take care of it.
Bobby, do you know how much gas is in the truck?” asked Gus.

“About a third of a tank,” she answered.

“Ok, we’ll siphon it into our car. It’s a bit newer and has more room for three people,” he said. “We can all sit in the cab of the truck for the ride back; it’s not far to the motor home.”

We squeezed into the cab of the truck.
I shut the sliding windows to help cut down on the stench. Gus drove us back to get our car. We took the shrink-wrapped-Runner with so that we could make a clean kill using Gus’ hunting knife. The only other option was to crush its head, and we all knew that in its late stage of decomposition that would make a severe mess. None of us wanted Runner Soup splattered on us. After a short time we parked beside our own waiting vehicle and climbed out of the cramped cab.

“Let’s hurry.
Zoe, want to grab a couple of things from the motor home? Put them in the hatchback? Oh, except my hunting knife. I’ll need that for killing off the Runner.”

“Sure.
No problem.”

“Bobby, can you pop the hood on the truck?”

“Ok.”

I walked into the motor home and found Gus’ dirty pants from the night before, as well as his knife and the empty peanut butter jar.
I took a couple more towels and decided to leave my bloody pants behind. I slipped my well-worn shoes onto my feet, minus socks, after I had slid Gus’ boxer briefs on. I tried to find his shirt but had no luck.

When I emerged with the meager supplies, Gus was showing Bobby how to siphon gas using a salvaged hose from the motor home’s plumbing system.
I walked my armful of items to the hatchback of our car, keeping a hold of Gus’ knife. I walked by them and climbed into the back of the Toyota. I crept near the Runner and for the briefest of moments felt sorry for it. I still couldn’t place where he seemed familiar from. It was obviously aware of my presence as it began writhing with desire for flesh. I unsheathed the hunting knife and rammed it into its ooze-filled eye socket. The creature fell still. I pulled on the knife to reclaim it, meeting the resistance of rotting flesh. Once it finally gave, it slid back toward me with a sickening slurping sound.

Gus had taken the driver’s seat with Bobby sitting beside him as the front passenger.
I knew by now that I was left in the back to keep an eye on the newcomer to our group, since we really knew little about her. The sun was shining as Gus backed the car onto the highway. It was brighter than I recalled it being in days and it hurt my eyes.

“Bobby, we’re headed northwest about as far as we can go.
You sure you want to tag along?”

“
Yeah. I have no one left.” There was deep sadness in her voice.

“We’re hoping to meet up with our friends,” I added.
“We got separated in the last town we stayed in.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said.
She turned around to look at me. Bobby had kind eyes, but they were laced with sadness and pain. I took pause to consider what the man that we had just killed, twice, might have done to this woman. Perhaps the damage was from her time before him.

“Thanks.”

It took nearly an hour to backtrack all the way to highway 101. This far out in the middle of nowhere there weren’t many choices for alternate routes. Neah Bay is nestled at the far northern tip of the Olympic Peninsula, on the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Pacific Ocean. It is home to the Makah Indians, so the area is rich in Native culture. Boggs’ grandparents had set up a small motel just off of the reservation near Hobuck Beach for summer vacationers. They had seen a slight increase in business when the not-too-distant town of Forks had been overrun by fans of a vampire book series that took place there. That surge of business had kept them afloat when they had been ready to throw in the towel and sell the motel.

“We’re almost to Port Angeles.
I don’t want to stop in-town, so I’m pulling over for a quick stretch break before we get there,” announced Gus. “We should also stop soon to find some clothes and food. Somewhere less crowded, though.”

“Thank God,” said Bobby.
“I’m so hungry.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Zoe, does this spot feel clear?” asked Gus as he slowed the car and pulled off onto the shoulder.

“As far as I can tell, but don’t count on me right now, ok?”

I saw Bobby look at Gus questioningly.

“I’ll explain later,” he said.

She nodded. “Ok.” She didn’t seem the type to press issues, which was refreshing.

I opened my door and stepped out.
I stretched, now too aware that my breasts were tender and hard. I felt a wave of grief as I realized what I needed was to nurse my sweet baby.

“Gus?” I called quietly.
“Can I talk to you?”

“Ayup.
Be right there.”

Bobby was busy twisting side to side and touching her toes in an effort to stretch.
Gus was relieving himself by his side of the car. I decided to do the same, and was busy pulling my boxers back up when he joined me behind the car.

“What’s up?”

“My chest is really sore. I thought maybe you’d know what to do?”

“Dang.
I’d forgotten about that. It’s your milk coming in.”

“I figured.
But what do I do since Molly’s gone?” My eyes filled with tears.

“You can express it yourself, or I can help if you want, but every time you do you’ll produce more, which will just prolong it from drying up.
We’ll need to find you a snug bra and wait it out.”

I nodded.
“Ok.” Maybe it was silly, but I got angry that this too was being taken away from me. I had only been able to feed Molly once.

“If it gets too bad, let me know, ok?”

“Thanks.”

He wrapped his arms around me and I took comfort in the feel of his warm chest against my cheek.

“We better get back on the road,” he finally whispered as he let go of me. “Bobby, you ready?”

“
Yeah. Sure.”

The interior of the car had warmed from the sunshine, so we drove back toward Port Angeles with the windows rolled down.
The city itself appeared to be abandoned as we drove through. I knew that there were dead roaming about, though, and was glad we were only driving through. The turnoff from Port Angeles to highway 101 was being claimed by weeds and grass. Gus drove slowly since the highway was all but crumbling in areas. The smell of rotting winter crops filled the air, mixing with a saltwater breeze from the sea. The highway was straight for now with large evergreens off in the distance. My brain began buzzing as Roamers began to dot the countryside. They all looked decrepit and lost as they wandered in search of food. They seemed to all be moving in the same direction; away from us.

“Did you notice they’re all headed in the same direction?” I asked.

“That they are,” said Gus.

“They’re maybe following something?” added Bobby.

“They all feel dim,” I said idly. I wasn’t sure which other word I might have used. Like light bulbs burning out. “They’re all Roamers, and they all feel like they’re…burning out.”

“Are you one of the people who can feel them?” asked Bobby.

I looked at her in surprise. “You’ve heard of it?”

“
Yeah. The group I was with until recently came across two people who could sense them. Two brothers. One could feel them and the other could see what some of them saw. Is that how it is for you?”

“
Yeah, I can feel them in my head and see through their eyes. Not always though. Once I got pregnant it was hit or miss.”

“Jason said you lost the baby?”

Jason. So that was the man’s name. I nodded.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.
She seemed genuinely sad for me.

I nodded again, unable to utter the words to thank her for her sympathy.

“It just happened two days ago,” said Gus very quietly. His kind way of suggesting that Bobby let it drop for now. She took the cue and silence filled the car once again.

As we drove by the Roamers, the ones closest to the car turned, altering their path to turn their focus onto us.
As we passed them, they continued on with what seemed a renewed sense of energy. I hoped it was a sign that other humans, ones that I missed desperately, had also driven this way. They, too, would have had to drive around the crash site that had stopped us near Clallam Bay.

As the surroundings turned from flat valley to rolling hills, the Roamer population thinned.
A crashed school bus was on the left side of the highway, facing what would have been oncoming traffic. Windows were cracked, some missing altogether, and blood still stained the yellow paint and highway. I forced myself to look away, not allowing my mind to recreate what might have happened to the people who had been traveling within. Only yards in front of the bus was an overturned sheriff’s car, one of its wheels missing a tire. The car blocked most of the highway, so Gus slowed and crept onto the shoulder to drive around.

The hills turned into mountains as we climbed in elevation.
As we rounded a bend, there was a dead brown bear halfway on our side of the road with three Roamers feasting upon it. Gus slowed to cross the median, avoiding hitting any of the dead. The last thing we needed was a damaged vehicle forcing us to continue on foot.

“There’s a sign for a National Forest,” said Bobby.
“Maybe there’s a ranger station or cabin we could rummage through?”

“Good idea,” agreed Gus.

After half a mile, we turned off onto a smaller side road. It wound around massive old growth trees that seemed dangerously close to the highway. We had to stop twice to move branches that had fallen across the road. After about fifteen minutes we finally came to a small building constructed from cedar that had faded with age. As Bobby had hoped, it was a ranger station. Gus parked the car on a small asphalt parking pad and turned the ignition off.

“We should all head in.
I’ll go first with the shotgun, just in case we’re not welcome,” said Gus.

We exited the car and followed him to the front door.
It was a single story building, or room might be a better description. The windows on either side of the door were old fashioned looking with small panes settled between wood strips that formed nine squares per window. The front door was locked, so Gus used the butt of his shotgun to hit the knob until it came loose. The door swung outward with a slight groan. The inside of the cabin was quaint, and empty of any obvious dangers. There was a small bed in one corner, a desk in another, and a small kitchenette in a third. An old blackened wood stove was situated dead center in the building. The interior walls and floor were all constructed of the same material as the outside. I walked to one of the walls and read a plaque that stated the building was built by early settlers in 1805 and had been restored to original condition in 1983. There was no evidence of plumbing or electricity.

“Zoe, check the kitchen cabinets?” suggested Gus.
“Bobby, do you mind helping me look for clothes?”

I walked to the small kitchen corner and opened a free standing cabinet.
There were several items inside, all coated in a thin layer of dust. Creamed corn, a box of Cheerios, canned fruit cocktail, and some Saltines. I took the items out and set them on a small pine table that was situated against the wall. Searching the only drawer, I found a hand held can opener and a fork and spoon, and more importantly a large sharp knife. There were no plates or bowls to speak of. I had hoped to find more, but was glad to have found anything.

“I found some food,” I said.
“And a sharp knife.”

“We found some shirts, pants, and socks.
Nothing fancy but they should help,” said Bobby. “We should take the sheets and blankets from the bed, too.”

“Maybe we should stay here for the night?” I asked.

“We could,” said Gus. “If we can secure the door.”

“It opens outward,” observed Bobby.

“Ok?” I asked, not quite following her.

She smiled at me.
“Most exterior doors open inward. It means we could tie it closed from the inside.”

“Ah.
Ok. Makes sense,” I said, slightly embarrassed.

“Is that what you both want to do?” asked Gus.

I studied his face before answering.

“
I think we all need some rest.”

“I agree,” said Bobby.

“Let’s secure the door then, eat, and get some sleep,” instructed Gus.

“There’s some twine in the hatchback,” I added.
“Might work well for the door. I’ll grab it.”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

I walked back outside. The sun was trying to set, casting a warm orange-yellow glow on the treetops. I could hear spring birds singing. Growing up I had always thought it was their way of saying good-night to the day. I closed my eyes and inhaled the woodsy air, and imagined for a moment that everything was right in the world.