The Creepers (33 page)

“Well they’ve been kicking undead ass
for the better part of twenty years. A couple hundred of our nation’s finest,
well, what’s left of them at least. Last we heard they were ranging through
their namesake and up around Montana looking for clear cattle land. But that
was months ago.”

“You thinkin’ they all fell to road
trash? Ta’fuckin’ savages?”

“You did,” Price said smugly.

“That’s different. See what happened
was, we was coming down along the road, just five of us,” Jackson looked at his
brother then crossed himself, “rest their souls. And we see all these military
types lined up. We ain’t stupid . . . so we took it slow but when they didn’t
respond we backed off. Only problem was they came out the trees. Took Jimmy
Paulson right there on the side of the road. Cut his throat." Jackson
shivered as he spook.

It felt good to hear the man’s torment.
Bobby soaked it in. Something else became apparent to him as he watched the
exchange. Something that, up until now, the Crannen Twins had never been privy
to. Fear. They were afraid, though, they’d never admit to it, they were afraid
of the people that surrounded them. Even though Baylor and his crew showed no
hostilities the Crannen Twins sensed anger swirling just behind the niceties
the Mad Conductor dispensed. Baylor and his crew were protecting him . . . they
were acting like true friends.

“Tim Deerborn went next,” Thomas picked
up where his brother left off. “And before we knew it, they smashed his brains
out with a rock. Ain’t right what they done to us, ain’t right at all. But they
wasn’t random. At least, not like we heard tell of all these years.”

“What do you mean?” Baylor asked.

“I mean they was organized. They had
this spot pegged long before we came along, and from what you said about them
soldiers and they uniforms . . . heck they been getting smarter’n a coon around
a locked garbage can.”

“Boss,” Price turned to Baylor, “with
what they tell us and what the kid told us. This is not good. There’s no
telling how many of them are still running the countryside. And if they got all
of Wyoming Blue. . . .”

“They didn’t, Price. You can’t think
like that. It’s—”

“What kid? Y’all seen a kid?"
Jackon’s demeanor changed the second he heard the word. His eyes darted around
the car.

Bobby stepped into the light of the car.
And for the first time in his short life he stood before the Crannen Twins
without fear, in fact, he stood before them with an unspoken arrogance. After
all, it was he, not them, that had survived the wild onslaught. He braved the
winter, and the wilds, and had made it through. He hadn’t been caught. Looking
at their bruised faces he realized he had surpassed them in every way.

“You!" Jackson jumped up. Fist
shaking wildly, he said, “Y’all got a demon in your midst. That kid ain’t
right. Should have killed you myself when I had the chance.”

Baylor lurched, as if he were about to
strike the man, but Bobby’s voice made him pause.

“No, Baylor, their hatred is not for
you." Bobby had never felt more relaxed and worried at the same time. His
worry fell solely on one subject: Ol’ Randy. He had to know, and now that
everything was out in the open he asked, “What happened to Ol’ Randy?”

“Look’it ‘im, Thomas,” Jackson made an
exaggerated sad face. “What happened to Ol’ Randy?" He laughed. “I put
lead in the old bastard’s legs. Damn right I did. He tried to attack the
Pastor. Caught up with the Devil . . . just like you, boy.”

Bobby’s fists clenched.

“Should’ve killed him like those
brothers of yours. Should’ve shot him dead. But the Pastor’s a forgivin’ kinda
man. So we put the crazy old fool in the brig." Thomas laughed, and when
he saw the pride wash from Bobby’s face he laughed harder.

Everyone in the car was in such a state
of shock that they barely registered Thomas’s lunge for Price’s weapon. Everyone
except Baylor. Before Thomas wrapped his hand around the barrel of Price’s gun,
Baylor had his revolver out, and aimed at his head. Baylor didn’t hesitate,
didn’t take a moment to moralize, he put a bullet in Thomas Crannen’s brain,
dropping him back into the seat.

Jackson reached for Baylor, but Price
caught him around the arm. The golem of a man lifted Jackson out of his seat
and slammed him to the aisle. He closed his massive hands around Jackon’s
throat.

“NO!” Bobby shouted.

Baylor and his crew looked at him as if
he was crazy. But he was far from it. If he was ever going to have a chance at
a normal life, and if he ever wanted to see the only family he had left, then
he knew what he had to do. He had to go back to the Settlement. He had to see
it through.

“Don’t kill him.”

“Kid, he means to kill you. Any man with
that much rage just can’t be trusted.”

“Mr. Baylor, if I don’t take care of my
past then it will never let me go.”

“Kid. . . .”

“It’s okay, Mr. Baylor, I’ve caused you
enough trouble already. This is what happens to me. I’ll be out of your hair in
no time. If I may ask for some bindings for this man and a little ammunition .
. . and maybe a little food. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“It’s the least I could do. You saved
the train . . . you saved Sophie. Price take that sack of shit out of here.”

“No problem, Boss.”

“Kid, look,” Baylor leaned over Bobby
with a concerned look on his face, “think this through. You have a spot on this
ride. You don’t need to go back there.”

“Mr. Baylor, what kind of person would I
be if I stayed, knowing that the only family I have left is rotting away in a
cell?”
“What, shit, kid, I . . .” Baylor went silent. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Mr. Baylor, you have business out west,
but when you’re done and you come back this way, keep an eye out for a kid and
a giant of an old man.”

“You can’t be leaving the child to go
off on his own, Baylor. Not without a full belly,” Jamie said from the doorway.
Her words came off in half-mumbled slurs thanks to the swelling in her face.

“Fair enough.”

Bobby tossed and turned. He couldn’t
sleep. The night rested heavily against the cracked window. Sweet spring wind
forced its way through the cracks in thin high-pitched whistles. Beyond that
almost impenetrable wall of darkness countless insects were coming awake,
shaking off the shackles of a long harsh winter. The time for being dormant,
for keeping hidden, for playing it safe, had passed.

Probing the edges of his perception were
the trio of Creepers from earlier, but since the late afternoon their trio had
grown into a sextet. They were old, exactly how old, Bobby wasn’t sure, but
they filled his head with things he didn’t understand. He pushed back at those
unknown images, begging them to cease and come no closer. His intrusion was met
with resistance and confusion that bounced around in his brain, rattling his
skull like a woodpecker hammering into a sappy trunk.

He stumbled through this gift much like
he fumbled his way through bible lessons.
Keep it simple, don’t over think,
he
told himself. As he worked his way around his own mind, he wondered if the
Folks realized what they had helped cultivate. All those years they didn’t know
what lurked in his blood, and because of that, and their beliefs, their true
desires concerning his demise were kept at bay. But now he was about to return
to them, a thing of their nightmares, a creation of the devil, a killer they
helped train, how would they react?

They’d try to finish the job. Misguided
by those same beliefs that helped keep him alive over the winters past. He
couldn’t quite understand it. For so many winters he believed in their God, in
a man that floated above all, watching, helping, and waiting. How many times
had he prayed for things to go right? How many times had he put his trust in
someone he’d never met, never witnessed, and wasn’t even sure existed? Too
many, but there had to be something out there.

Even Ecky believed in something in his
own way. And in the aftermath of the battle, with the train surrounded by death
and debris, many of the crew bowed their heads, crossed themselves, some even
prayed out loud. Were they all wrong? Was he right? But the urge to continue
the mental debate left him then. The Creepers lingered on the fringes but they
seemed confused by his intrusion.

The door slid open.

Bobby couldn’t see who it was in the
darkness. His hand instinctively went for his knife. He rolled onto his elbow
for better leverage. Knife in hand, he listened. Soft breath, quick but not out
of control, whoever stood just feet in front of him was nervous . . . and they
smelled of honey. Bobby put his knife away.

“Sophie,” he whispered. He knew it was
her. The smells of the kitchen and the silence solidified it. He reached out
with his hand, finding hers in the darkness. She pressed it to her chest. Her
heart beat beneath her ribcage like a terrified mouse hiding from the swiping
claw of a cat.

She did not speak as she slipped onto
the bed next to him. Her silence remained a mystery to him. Jamie tried to
explain it, and he tried to understand it. He’d suffered a terrible trauma,
too, and he still chose to speak. Maybe it was a girl thing. They were still a
riddle to him, though, he had not known very many. One thing he knew for sure:
it felt good to have a warm body next to him.

Her soft lips kissed his ear and it
tickled, but he did not laugh. Her breath soothed his wandering mind. Her long
legs wrapped around his. Her hand cupped his face. He tried to mirror her
movements because it felt right, it felt good, but he had a hard time trying to
focus.

Under Sophie’s careful touch Bobby
learned much that night. He learned that the world was filled with a great many
mysteries. Untold, uncharted lands and they needed no questions to be
understood. They simply needed to be experienced. He lay with her until the sun
finally cracked the night’s thick armor.

“Come back,” she whispered. She slipped
away from his grasp and moved through the cabin like a ghost, a wash of pale
skin and light.

*
* * * *

Bobby sat on top of the car with Baylor,
watching the land come to life. The stranger walked among the corpses carrying
his laptop, a diffuse bluish glow lighted the edge of his nose. After
inspecting each body the stranger would stop and type on the keypad before
moving on.

“You sure, sure about this, kid?"
Baylor was picking at this teeth with a blade of grass.

“It’s time for me to go, Mr. Baylor.
When I put my past to rest I will come back." Bobby checked his gear for
the fifth time. He hadn’t seen Sophie since she left him hours before. He had
hoped to see her one last time before he left, but time was growing short he
had to get going.

“Kid, I hate to leave you here, but
progress is important. Each year, each day we beat the dead back. We get some
of the world back. Another few years and I’ll see the coast. We took a lickin’
but we’ll come back. The world will come back." Baylor turned to Bobby and
extended his hand.

Bobby welcomed the simple handshake, and
when Baylor’s much larger hand enveloped his, he knew true friendship. Which
only seemed to crack the dam of regret further, but he locked those feelings
away like he shackled the voices of the undead.

“Thank you, Mr. Baylor. Keep my spot
open."

“Take care, Bobby." The Mad
Conductor found it hard to keep his eyes dry, and he only managed to do so
after turning away from Bobby’s wide smile and wild hair.

As Bobby climbed down and stepped out
among the bodies he felt strangely optimistic. Perhaps it was the new
beginnings that spring offered up in all its fresh glory, or it might be, that
for the first time, Baylor had called him by his name. That simple recognition
stirred memories of Ol’ Randy within him. He quickly moved towards the back of
the train where several of the crew were gathered.

Price held a length of brightly colored
rope that looped around Jackson’s arms and up his back and around his neck. He
tugged hard, drawing the sole surviving Crannen twin to his knees. The
implementation was simple, and it would allow Bobby to control his prisoner on
the long road to the Settlement.

“He won’t give you much trouble as long
as you keep this end close. I suggest you tie it up high when you sleep. It’ll
hurt him like hell, but it will keep him from slitting your throat while you
sleep." The giant man mussed Bobby’s hair and handed him the rope. “Keep
safe now . . . and good luck.”

“That’s not the only thing that’ll keep
him from getting his throat cut,” the stranger said boastingly. “I’m going with
him. I’m not much cut out for track laying anyway.”

“Does the boss know about this?” Hoss
asked.

“Yeah, he knows,” the stranger adjusted
his hood, pulling it down further, “he said good riddance. Called me a leech on
his resources. Imagine that? And this after I helped fend off the attackers.”

“Sounds about right,” Price chuckled.

“Your company is welcomed, but I cannot
guarantee your safety, stranger." Bobby wondered why the scarred man
wanted to tag along. He didn’t like the idea of getting someone else hurt by
proxy, but the stranger was free to make his own choices.