In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel (7 page)

The sound of the two Harleys roaring along the deserted
mountain highway bounced off the granite on one side of them then fell away
down the cliff on the other.  Up here, the air was still clean and the
morning was beautiful; like another world, untouched by the nightmare of carnage
in the city below.

Carl was driving fast and
exploiting the fact that there was little or no chance of being pulled over and
getting hassled for violating the speed limit. He was doing just over 90 mph on
turns rated for 45. Trey was also going faster than usual, but was falling
further and further behind. He too liked the freedom of being able to drive as
fast as he wanted and not worry about having a suspended license or no
insurance, but he also wanted to be alive to enjoy this new freedom.

Carl slowed as he reached an
intersection. The crossroad was paved to the left for about a quarter mile then
turned to gravel as it became a private road with just a few houses. He lit a
cigarette and looked at the houses as he waited for Trey to catch up. He could
see the cars on the street but the distance was too far to tell if the houses
might be occupied or not. It was getting darker, but not dark enough yet for
anyone who was home to have any lights on.

He heard the sound of Trey’s bike
approaching but he was still around a curve and not visible yet. Carl was
impatient to check out the houses and see what they could score. If they were
lucky, they’d find guns. They needed guns now, and the fact that they were
felons and weren’t able to legally own them no longer mattered. Carl smiled,
thinking about the new order of things.

Trey finally pulled up and stopped
his bike. He took out a cigarette and asked Carl what the big smile was about.

“You ever buy a grab bag - where
you don’t know what you’re gonna find inside?”

Trey lit his cigarette and blew out
blue smoke that rapidly expanded, whirled around their heads and disappeared
with the mountain breeze.

“I know what one is, but I don’t
know as I actually bought one.
Maybe as a kid.
Why?”

“That’s what I’m looking at down
the road.
Coupla
grab bags.
We go in, and who knows what we’re gonna find
inside?” The big grin was back as Carl felt the thrill and excitement of
getting ready to go into someone’s house and face the unknown. And whatever
they found, they could take.

“I thought we were going to get
beer,” Trey replied, not entirely comfortable with just barging into people’s
homes. The ski resort was okay because it was abandoned, and who cared if you
trespassed in an abandoned place? The owner
oughta
just donate it to the public anyway as far as Trey was concerned.

“Maybe we’ll find some beer inside.
Maybe some guns. And if we’re really lucky, we might find some women.
A couple of hot ones to warm us up.
It’s cold as a witch’s
tit out here.”

“You can say that again
,“
Trey pretended to agree. He had never understood that
expression. Why would a witch have cold tits? A vampire, he could understand,
but a witch? He wasn’t going to tell Carl that he didn’t understand it though.
No
point in making himself look
stupid. He’d never heard
anyone ask about witch’s tits before, and he didn’t want to be the first.

Carl took a deep drag off his
cigarette and flicked the butt into the road.

“Let’s go. Just remember though, we
ain’t got guns yet and there could be men around. If there is, we gotta play it
smart. Just follow my lead. We’ll act like we’re all shook up about the bomb
and such.”

Trey nodded in understanding,
flicked his cigarette and adjusted his goggles and his scarf, wrapping it back
around his ears and neck. Carl took the lead at a moderate speed, as if he was
just a guy coming home, or maybe someone who took a wrong turn.

The gravel part of the road was
covered with a light layer of snow. Gravel was hard enough to drive a
motorcycle on without adding the near impossibility of snow or ice and Carl was
not up to the task. His bike went down.

“God dammit!”
Carl yelled. His elbow must’ve hit a sharp rock when he fell. He felt a
stinging pain and blood running down his arm. Trey cruised up next to him at
three miles per hour with both feet sliding on the street to keep his bike
stable.
“Not a word
outta
you!”

Trey said nothing and waited for
Carl to lift up his bike, get back on it and start the engine. Carl copied
Trey’s slow speed and used his feet as stabilizers the way he saw Trey doing as
they slowly approached the six houses.

Two of the houses had cars in their
driveways; the first one on the right and the last house on the left. He rolled
past the first few and pulled into the driveway of the last house which had a
new minivan in the driveway dusted with snow. It had been driven not too long
ago. The men got off their bikes and looked around to see if anyone was looking
out of their windows or coming outside.

“I’ll do the
talkin
’,”
Carl said, and started walking up the driveway to the small sidewalk which
hadn’t been cleared of snow recently. Their boots crunched softly in the inch
of accumulation and left prints that almost revealed the concrete.

Carl pressed the doorbell button as
soon as they reached the small covered porch. He looked down at the welcome
mat. It was some foo-foo Martha Stewart looking thing. At least it meant a
woman lived here. No man would buy that shit. And if he did, he wasn’t really a
man.

Carl turned around and looked at
Trey who was standing behind him. Trey took a deep breath and blew out twin
streams of vapor from his nose.

“Get ready,” Carl said.

Trey nodded, but he didn’t look too
sure of himself.

Carl slapped Trey’s bicep and
wiggled his eyebrows.  “This is gonna be great. Just wait ‘n’ see.”

Trey looked past Carl as he saw a
face appear at eye-level in the small four-pane window set in the upper part of
the door. It was a woman. Carl saw Trey’s eyes focus on something behind him so
he turned around to face the door.

A pretty woman with dark hair was
looking through the glass with a questioning look on her face. She wasn’t used
to unexpected visitors.

“Ma’am, did you see what happened?”
Carl asked loudly and pointed to a spot in the distance. The woman could not
see what he was pointing at and wondered if there was an emergency.

“There’s been an explosion and
everyone has to head to higher elevation till the authorities clear us to come
back down. It may not be safe here, ma’am.”

“Who sent you?” the woman asked
through the closed door. She was alarmed now, but not pre-disposed to trusting
strangers on her porch – especially when they looked like members of a biker
gang.

“There aren’t enough deputies to
talk to everyone, so they deputized us and asked us to help,” Carl answered.

“Actually, a deputy pulled over
when he saw Carl lose control of his bike.” Trey pointed at the fresh blood on
the cuff of Carl’s sleeve. “He’s not hurt too bad so the deputy asked if we
could help spread the word on the nearby streets that we need to evacuate. He
didn’t formally deputize us.
Just asked if we could help.”

Carl glared at Trey for making him
out to be a liar and possibly ruining their whole plan.

“Ma’am, if you’ll check your phone,
you’ll find that it’s not
workin
’ and that
oughta
confirm for you that there’s trouble on the
mountain,” Trey added.

The woman raised her hand with one
finger pointing up,
then
quickly walked away.

Carl turned to Trey. “Why’d you
tell her that?”

“I figure any lines that go through
Denver have to be blown to shit right now. Plus there’s that electro-magnet
shit that fucks up anything running on electricity.”

Carl didn’t know what Trey was
talking about, but before he had time to give it any thought, he heard the door
open. He turned around and saw the woman standing in her doorway. She was
petite with dark brown hair and dressed in expensive casual clothes.

“Where did the Sheriff’s deputies
say we need to go?” she asked.

“Are your phones out, ma’am?” Trey
asked the lady.

“Yes.
Both my
landline and my cell.”

Carl looked at Trey and smiled in
admiration. He couldn’t believe Trey was actually that smart. He turned back to
the woman. “We have to hurry, ma’am. Could you tell everyone inside they gotta
get out?”

Trey added, “They said it might be
a few hours before we can come back down. Sorry to be the bearers of bad news.
I’m sure the sheriff’s office will have everything cleared up shortly.”

“I’m the only one here. I just need
to grab a few things and I’ll… where do I need to go?”

That’s what Carl was waiting to
hear. Once again, Trey’s quick thinking paved the way. Boy is smart, Carl
thought.

“Well, they said—
“
Carl
rushed the lady like a rodeo bull coming out of the gate. He pushed
her backwards into her house until they were well inside. The woman screamed
and Carl ordered Trey to shut and lock the door. Carl extended his hands toward
her shoulders and shoved hard. The woman flew backwards, losing her footing and
fell hard on the carpeted floor.

“Take it easy, man!” Trey urged.
His eyes shifted from Carl to the woman and back again. He was frowning in
disapproval and a silent “what the fuck?” burned in his eyes as he stared at
Carl, not liking where this was going.
Not at all.

Tori reached the end of Where the Wild Things Are, closed
the book and set it down on the bed she and Elizabeth were lying in. Liz was
still awake, lying close to her mother and pouting just a little. Tori had
gathered all of the blankets she could find. Taping a sheet over the broken
window did practically nothing to keep the freezing air outside from coming
into the cabin.

The fireplace roared and crackled
with a useless fire, putting out heat that was obliterated as soon as it
entered the room. She remembered a chimney sweep telling her once that 90-95%
of the heat from the fireplace went straight up the flue. He had said a
fireplace was more for ambience than anything else, unless you’re sitting right
in front of it getting that 5 or 10 percent. The fire was losing the battle
with the icy air flowing through and around the sheet-covered window. Cuddling
with Liz under three blankets was warmer than being outside – but just barely.

“What happened to your lip,
sweetheart?” Tori asked, looking down at her daughter.

“What yip?”

“That bottom lip of yours – I think
it’s broken. It’s sticking out too far and it makes you look like a sad little
girl.”

“I don’t want a story, Mommy. I
want to watch Burp and Ernie,” Liz complained and promptly resumed pouting.

“I know you do, and I’ve told you
we’ll watch Sesame Street and Burt and Ernie and Big Bird and everyone else
just as soon as the electricity is fixed. But right now, there’s nothing I can
do about it. Okay, honey?”

Liz’s slightly sad face was all she
got in response. Tori took a deep breath and repositioned
herself
so that she was now lying down all the way under the blankets with Liz. She
found Liz’s tiny hand and held it in hers.

“If I tell you a mommy story, will
you fall asleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out. I’m very tired. I
think you are too.”

She knew they couldn’t stay here
long. It was just too damned cold. She felt a surge of tears as she suddenly
became too aware of the fact that she was not taking good care of her daughter
right now - holed up in a frozen cabin high in the mountains. But she didn’t know
what else to do. Where could they go?

By sheer luck, they were alive when
so many, many more were not. And by her ability to think somewhat clearly in
the face of the most horrific thing she’d ever seen, they now had food and
shelter. She felt so fortunate to have just the bare necessities that she
almost considered herself selfish over her greedy desire for warmth in addition
to what she did have.

“Mommy!”
Elizabeth pleaded.

Tori cleared her mind of thoughts
about gratitude and greed and the steady stream of cold air that would not
allow her feet to warm up. She bent her knees and rubbed her feet briskly on
the sheet.

“Okay, baby. Let’s see… Once upon a
time, there was a nice mommy who had the most beautiful daughter in all of the
land…”

Tori looked down at her daughter
and her big grin that came from knowing this was going to be a good story. Liz
loved mommy and daughter stories. They were the easiest ones to see when she
closed her eyes because all she had to do was pretend that the story was about
her mommy and herself.

Carl spun around and looked at Trey. “You just mind your
own,” Carl replied with a challenging look. “I’ll take care of the lady how I
see fit. Why don’t you make yourself useful and see if there’s any beer? Then
check the rooms for guns.” Trey dropped his gaze to the floor and went in
search of the kitchen, as ordered.

He felt a little disgusted with
himself
for not standing up to Carl, but what could he do?
He owed Carl respect. If it wasn’t for Carl, he’d probably be a homeless bum.
But as it was, he was in Carl’s motorcycle club, and he had even been given his
motorcycle by Carl. For the first time he could recall, he had been accepted by
people and not made to feel inferior; an outcast. His own family didn’t even
accept him like the members of the Unforgiven did.

Unforgiven
MC

Denver

He wore their colors with actual
pride – and although he wouldn’t mention it to anyone in the gang, his
self-esteem skyrocketed the day he first wore the denim vest he was given after
his successful initiation into the club. It was the first time he didn’t feel
like the loser his dad always said he was.

He couldn’t risk his membership –
his new family, by countering Carl. He winced slightly as he heard the woman
grunting as she struggled to resist whatever Carl was doing now.

Trey found the kitchen and tried to
ignore the sounds coming from the living room. It wasn’t his concern, he tried
telling himself. He opened the refrigerator and was relieved to see there were
plenty of bottles of Coors Light inside. He grabbed two of them and let the
door close by itself. Holding a bottle in each hand, he left the kitchen,
reversing his path back to the living room where Carl was now straddling the
woman’s hips and holding one big hand over her mouth. The sound of her voice
was muffled, but the high tones of her squealing were still audible.

“I can do this all day, lady. And I
will, if you don’t get smart and calm the fuck down.” Carl was enjoying the
hell out of himself on Day One of Anything Goes.

“
Gotchu
a
beer,” Trey said from behind him.

Carl turned and took the beer with
his free left hand. Trey turned and walked away, heading toward the hallway
that led to the bedrooms. Carl’s right hand was clamped over the woman’s mouth,
but now he needed it to twist off the cap because Trey was too stupid to have
done it for him.

“I’m gonna give you another chance.
When I take my hand away, you’ll stay quiet if you’re smart. If you’re not,
you’ll see what happens.”

Carl lifted his hand and slowly
brought it to the top of the beer bottle. The woman stared up at him and
eagerly took deep breaths through her mouth, thankful for the increased air she
was able to draw in.

As Carl twisted the cap, the woman
bucked as hard she could and let out another war cry, still filled with a
fighting spirit and not even thinking of giving up despite being only five feet
and one inch tall against Carl’s vastly greater size and weight.

She was stronger than Carl thought
possible. As she bucked, lifting him up a few inches, his beer spilled onto
both of them. He pushed down on her face with one hand, pinning her head and
muffling her screams, and set the beer bottle far off to his left.

“It’s time for me to
learn
you a lesson.” He lifted his right hand and the sound
of her screaming filled the room for just a second until his left hand
came
flying in at her face, stopping her voice instantly.
Her cheek turned red and both of her lips began to bleed.

She was momentarily dazed. She
could feel heat as her blood traveled to her cheek to begin immediate repair of
broken capillaries. Her mouth felt swollen and numb on the right side. Her
brain was rattled and her mind was still for the moment. She continued taking
ragged breaths, staring at Carl with a combination of fear and hatred.

Carl took a long swig of the cold
beer. It was warm inside the house and his body temperature was high from his
increased heartbeat. Taking total possession of this woman was exciting, and he
hadn’t even gotten started yet. Carl raised his hand as if to strike the
woman’s
face
again.

“Do you need another one? I’ll be
happy to give it to you…”

Her chest rapidly rose and fell
with her quick breathing. For the first time, she did more than scream at Carl.
Her throat was dry from adrenaline and exertion. When she spoke, she didn’t
sound like herself.

“My husband will kill you,” she
told him in barely more than a whisper. “And when he does, you’ll go straight
to--“

Carl hit her in the face before she
could complete the sentence. This time he used his fist. She looked like she
was knocked out cold, but just to make sure, he hit her once more. He was tired
of playing games with her. She needed to recognize who was in charge of this
here situation.

He saw a framed photo of a man in a
military uniform sitting on the end table beside the couch. The picture looked
like the ones Carl always saw on the freeway, talking about honor and
integrity. Shit like that.

“Fuck you, soldier boy. I’m gonna
learn
your wife what a real man is.”

He lifted his beer to his mouth and
held it there, tipping the bottle further and further until it was empty. He
burped from the large dose of carbon-dioxide and threw the bottle at the framed
photograph, shattering both of them. He was just about to pick up the woman and
find a place to take her when Trey came back in to the room.

“No beer?” He was starting to think
that Trey was less and less useful to have around.

“I’ll get you one, but I wanted to
show you this.
Figured you’d want to know.”
Trey
handed Carl a 3rd generation Glock 17.

Carl’s eyes lit up and he smiled.

“It’s a pussy cop gun, but I’ll
take it. Is that all?”

“It’s the only thing out in the
open. Found it in her closet on the shelf. There’s a gun safe in the other
room, but I can’t open it.”

“Find a way,” Carl ordered.

“It’s one o’ them fancy ones with
the—“

“I don’t give a fuck!” Carl
growled. “Find a way in that goddamned safe and get me a beer.”

Trey turned to get another beer
from the kitchen. He shook his head as he walked.

What the fuck has gotten into Carl?
I thought we were friends.

Carl had been fine that morning.
Even after Trey hit him, he was still his regular self. Trey thought if he hit
Carl now like he had earlier, Carl would probably kill him. He knew Carl was a
badass dude, but now it was like he didn’t even know him anymore. When Trey
returned to the living room with two beers this time, both for Carl, the room
was empty.

He went down the hall and checked
the master bedroom. He was there. The lady was lying on her bed, still
unconscious.

“More beer for you,
Carl.”

Carl turned around and smiled when
saw the bottles.

“You ain’t as dumb as you look.”

He took both bottles and walked
over to the night-stand beside the bed and set one down. He opened the other
and took a drink.

“Now get that safe open.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,”
Trey muttered as he walked into the hall, certain that there was no way in hell
he could open it.

“And shut the door!” Carl yelled.

Trey came back a few steps and shut
the door.

Carl walked over and locked it. He
felt a rush of something good start at the base of his skull and coursing
forward and upward to his eyes and forehead. The feeling slowly descended
through the rest of his body. It felt like he had just injected something like
a speedball – a perfect mix of heroin and cocaine. His forehead began to buzz.

He turned back to look at the woman
on the bed. He set his beer on her bureau and undressed. As he took his clothes
off, his mind filled with images of what he planned to do. He was getting
mentally aroused as he envisioned himself raping her, but physically, there was
no evidence of his arousal.

He picked up his knife and gun and
walked over to the bed. He dropped the gun by her side and watched it bounce
once then sink into the down comforter. He opened his knife and carefully cut
the woman’s shirt most of the way up the middle, being careful not to cut her.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Not yet. He laughed to himself. Cutting her shirt
off with his knife was cool. He’d always wanted to do that. It looked so cool in
movies. But it was too slow, and he had no patience. He folded the blade back
into the handle and dropped it on the floor. He tore her shirt the rest of the
way with his hands. The sound of the ripping fabric started to arouse him.

Trey stood staring at the safe. The
only thing he could think of was to try finding a drill. But if he found one,
he didn’t know where exactly he should make a hole. He had no understanding of
the mechanics of safes, but in movies, they always drilled holes, so if he did
that, at least he could tell Carl he was working on it.

After finding a drill in the garage
and trying it on the front and sides of the safe with nothing to show for it
but a broken drill bit, Trey was ready to give up. He sat on the bed that was
made up for guests and tried to think.

A few minutes later, still with no
ideas, he began to hear the woman’s muffled cries coming from the other room.
Carl must’ve gagged her with something. It sounded like she was crying into a
pillow. It also sounded like he was hurting her. Trey couldn’t stand hearing
it.

This is fucked up, he thought. He
could hear the headboard hitting against the wall with a rhythmic thumping.
Carl was raping the lady. Perfect. This was not what he had in mind when he
thought about there being no law enforcement. Yeah, they were outlaws, and they
stole from people who had more than enough, but no one in the club ever raped
anyone.

It occurred to Trey that maybe he
wouldn’t lose the respect of his peers if he intervened on the woman’s behalf.
It was a bold thought, but what if the guys actually agreed with Trey and
praised him for saving her? Hell, all of them had girlfriends, so they should
be able to relate to how they’d feel if something like this happened to them.
Or their sisters, or mothers.

Yeah. He was certain they’d approve
of him stopping Carl. Maybe they’d even kick Carl out of his own club – because
he’d lost his fucking mind.
Skully
would probably
take over. He was more of a leader anyway, and a lot smarter than Carl was.

The thumping noise was louder now
and the woman’s muffled screams were keeping time with the thumps. That was it.
Trey made up his mind. He was putting a stop to this shit.
Right
fucking now.

He got up and quickly lit a
cigarette with trembling fingers. He clenched his teeth and focused his anger
and outrage and summoned up his courage and resolve. He walked out of the room,
went several steps over to the other room where the door was shut. He grabbed
the doorknob and tried to twist it.

He pounded on the door.

“That’s enough, Carl! Let her go!”

Carl was thrusting into the woman
from behind. He had secured her hands behind her back with his belt, and since
she couldn’t support herself, she was face down in the pillow. Carl was holding
her up with his big hands on her hips. He tried to think of something to say in
response to Trey’s annoying interruption, but he couldn’t think of anything. He
was already having trouble maintaining his erection and was concentrating hard
on fucking. He couldn’t just switch mental gears and come up with a good reply
that would put Trey in his place.

“Just fuck off now!” he yelled over
his shoulder toward the door.

“Stop it, Carl, or I’m busting in
and stopping you. We ain’t like this. The Unforgiven don’t rape no women. I
think everyone will back me on this.”

Carl’s brain lit up with anger at
Trey’s defiance and mention of the club backing him. It was none of their
business what he did. He chose not to respond this time and felt his anger
translate itself into increased blood flow where he needed it most. Finally, he
was getting hard. He started ramming himself into the woman harder than before.

“Count of three, Carl!”

Carl looked at the bed to see where
his gun had gone. The blanket was all bunched up and probably covering the gun
somewhere. Goddamn Trey. Carl didn’t mind having it out with him, but couldn’t
he wait to settle this after he was finished?

“One!”

Carl felt his body preparing to
climax. This was the worst time to have to stop and find the damned gun. Trey
was going to be very sorry he had fucked with him like this. He slapped the
woman’s ass and said, “I’ll finish with you in a second.”

Trey was about to yell out, “Two!”
when he realized this wasn’t going to be easy and he’d have a badly needed advantage
if Carl didn’t know right when to expect him. Why count and give him advance
notice? Trey stepped back as far as he could and then charged the door with his
shoulder out front.

Carl was moving the blanket around
and trying to find his gun before Trey could reach “three.” He flapped the
blanket and the Glock flew off the bed and landed on the floor. He turned to
retrieve it and heard the wood crack and splinter as Trey busted into the room
and kept on coming until he slammed Carl in the back, sending him flying
forward where his head slammed into the corner of the nightstand beside the
bed. Carl went down and moaned, slowly bringing one hand up to his bleeding
head.

Trey rushed over to Carl before he
could start to recover and kicked him once in the face with his heavy,
steel-toed boot. Trey was scared at what he had just done, but what choice did
he have? Even if the rest of the guys didn’t back him, he had to do it anyway.
He wasn’t a fucking monster.