The Long Fall of Night: The Long Fall of Night Book 1 (44 page)

“I guess,” Tim said after composing himself with great difficulty. He lifted his gun hand and rubbed his knuckles across his nose, heedless of where the gun pointed. Ash really needed to get the weapon away from him. “I hoped the drugs were working, but when I looked at his leg around the cuts, it was gross and full of pus. Since before the sun came up, he begged me to just let him go, put him out of his misery. Said if it was the dog, we’d have ended his pain by now. For hours, he told me he wanted to die, and I was an asshole for keeping him here.”

“Is that what you did?” Aaron asked, putting a hand on Tim’s gun arm. “Ended his pain?”

Tim nodded and stared helplessly at his lap as the tears dripped down his blotchy face.

“He was your friend,” Aaron said. “You did what he wanted. You gave him the dignity he asked for. To me, that’s one of the kindest things you could have done.”

“You think so?” Tim asked so hopefully, Ash’s heart shredded.

Would I have the strength to do that for someone?
He didn’t know.

“I think so,” Ash answered Tim’s desperate question. “It’s a heavy burden, but you did it to help Jason out of his pain.”

“I wanna die, too,” Tim wailed, his voice going up a register as his anguish poured out.

Awkwardly, Ash put his arms around Tim’s shoulders and made soothing sounds, wanting to get Tim to a place where he was more in control, and they could get his gun away. No way did they want him following through on what he’d just said.

“You’ll miss him,” Ash murmured. “We’ll all miss him. But you did what you thought was best. What he wanted.”

After nearly half an hour, Tim’s grief began to subside, his shoulders going still and his sobs quieting. He laid his head on Ash’s shoulder and stared at nothing. Aaron rubbed up and down his arm, closer and closer to the gun still gripped tightly in his hand.

“Tim, Jason was in septic shock. The infection from his leg went to his bloodstream, and he wasn’t going to make it,” Aaron explained gently. “I thought we had a shot with the IV antibiotics, but he needed a hospital. Clean sheets and proper medical equipment. Powerful drugs in greater supply than we were able to steal. A real bed and a doctor to watch over him. We were going to lose him no matter how hard we tried to save him. The hallucinations were a bad sign. I don’t think he would have lasted the day, and it would have been a very painful last day for him.”

Tim sniffed. “He was my friend.”

“Of course,” Ash said, still rubbing Tim’s back. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him, but he had you by his side at the end. That would make anyone strong enough to face whatever happens after this life.”

There was no response.

Boldly, Aaron covered Tim’s hand and the gun and pulled the weapon from his fingers with some difficulty. “I don’t think you should have this right now, buddy. If anything happens we need to protect you from, we’ll handle it, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim said, voice suddenly dead. “We have to bury him anyway.”

Over Tim’s head, Aaron and Ash’s gazes met. Ash knew there was no taking the body to a hospital like they’d done with Russ. They would have to do this, and he didn’t have a clue how to get supplies quickly enough or if they had enough strength to dig an actual grave for Tim’s friend. Behind him, Brian cleared his throat.

“I think there’s a park’s department maintenance shed near where we were fishing. Maybe it’ll have something we can use to give Jason a proper send-off.”

Ash nodded. “Can you help Elliot lie down first? He was about wiped out already when we heard….” He trailed off, not wanting to say anything about the sound of the gunshot and remind Tim he was the one who’d pulled the trigger.

Brian moved quickly, and Ash breathed in relief when his boyfriend was out of Tim’s sight. At any moment, the man could lash out, and since Elliot had been a target in the past, he didn’t want Tim having any reason to paint that bulls-eye on Elliot’s back again. Especially not in his uneven state.

Aaron stayed with Tim, though they’d passed the gun off behind his back to get it far away from him. Ash went with Brian to the shed he’d found.

“Holy shit,” Ash murmured when they were far enough away not to be overheard.

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. “Not good. That guy is going off the deep end.”

“To be fair, if I had been in his shoes, I’d be just as upset as him.”

“I don’t think you’d have done that. Pulled the trigger.”

Ash considered it fully since the thought first occurred to him. “If Charlotte were dying and said she didn’t want to go slow, demanding I give her a quicker death, I think I might.” Of course, he could
say
that, but he wouldn’t honestly know how he’d react unless he was in that position. “Could you do it for Elliot?”

Brian frowned. “No. Could you?”

Ash was glad when they reached the shed so he didn’t have to answer. Given his discomfort earlier with how deeply his emotions for Elliot were taking hold, he didn’t want to consider the choice of helping him die or watching him suffer.

They used the butt of Ash’s gun to bust the lock from the shed door and breathed a sigh of relief when they spied a hand tiller and a couple shovels pegged to the walls. They stepped around a pyramid of buckets containing the chemicals used to spray for mosquitoes in the middle of the floor to gather what they thought they could use. Returning to camp with their supplies, including a couple pair of work gloves, they set them aside and converged on Tim to sit with him in the scratchy, weedy grass, waiting for him to give the go ahead to bury his friend.

I
f you love large
, you’ve got to hurt large. If you’ve got a lot of light, you’ve probably got an equal amount of darkness.

—Sarah McLachlan

“
I
THINK
WE CAN ALL AGREE we need to get out of Nebraska,” Ash said as they gathered around the makeshift fire ring in their camp between the Platte River and Hord Lake.

Elliot nodded along with the others, noting their haggard faces. They were tired, beaten down, and in Tim’s case, glassy eyed and nearly unresponsive. Charlotte bore dark circles under her eyes and even Riley, who sat on his mother’s lap, displayed no real energy. “If we pick up the pace a little, I think we can get close to the border in eight or ten days. That means longer days, fewer breaks, and more importantly, walking faster.”

“Which border?” Tim asked flatly.

Elliot frowned at him. “West.”

“We’re not going back?” Tim said, raising his head.

“No,” Ash answered wearily. “Why would we go back?”

“To kill that fucker that made me kill Jason.”

Elliot closed his eyes against a rising tide of impatience. “Jason adamantly did not want to go back to reach a hospital, so to return now would be kind of stupid and an insult to him, don’t you think?”

Tim’s glare made Elliot squirm. There had been something off about Tim ever since the morning he’d stumbled from his tent in tears and admitted what he’d done. The only thing bigger than his anger and thirst for revenge had been his self-loathing. None of them were experts in psychology, but it was obvious Tim had quickly passed the denial stage and was well entrenched in the anger portion of the five stages of grief. Most of the time, he directed his anger at himself, and despite the group’s best efforts to engage him, he’d spent most of the last two days, after they’d buried Jason’s body, in his tent. He’d come out briefly to allow Jennifer and Aaron to dispose of the bloodied sleeping bag stretcher and attempt to clean up what they could. They’d divvied Jason’s most useful supplies and given Tim anything even remotely personal. But otherwise, Tim kept himself isolated. In the night, when Elliot had taken up his watch, he’d heard murmurs of vicious insults hurled at any and everything under the sun, but most of them were aimed at Tim himself.

We have to get away from this place,
Elliot found himself nearly pleading with… whomever. Ash had decided to give Elliot two full days of rest before moving along, and it’d helped. He hadn’t had an absence seizure in twenty-four hours, and the dog at his feet was calm and panting lazily even in the early morning sunshine that promised a hot one.

“If we get an early start this morning, I think we can make it forty or more miles today,” Ash continued as if Tim hadn’t yet again voiced the idea of avenging his friend. “If we can keep that pace, we should be out of Nebraska in a little over a week. My sources tell me—”

Tim snorted. Ash ignored him.

“—the line between power and blackout happens in the mountains, and he’s not exactly sure where, but once we get over the range, we should be good to go. We can get money.” He nodded to Elliot, who smiled to acknowledge his promise to fund the rest of their trip to Seattle once he had access to his bank accounts. “Supplies. Perhaps a vehicle if rationing isn’t too heavy.”

“Have you considered hiring a plane?” Elliot asked. “It’s probably the one kind of fuel not in short supply, given that we haven’t seen or heard a plane in the air since New York, and I will happily pay for all of us to get off the damn road.”

Ash looked to the others. “That sounds so good to me, I can’t even really let myself hope for it, but if you all are game, I say yes.” Around the table, everyone but Tim gave enthusiastic nods.

“A plane? Like flying?” Riley asked, hopeful. “I’ve never been on a plane.”

“No, baby, you haven’t,” Charlotte said, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s see if we can change that soon.”

There was no mistaking the tendril of excitement that wound through the group that just maybe they’d reach the end of this nightmare and taste safety. No more camping, no more gunshots, no more fear of psycho landowners or stumbling over military who could split them up. When they first started out, Elliot had wanted to know the state of the rest of the country, and in the periodic calls he’d made to his father, he’d asked for what news Steven could give him. It wasn’t much, but there were controlled military reports given in carefully parsed press releases, speaking of progress in getting the affected region into refugee camps, the wounded and sick being tended to, and of the major metropolitan areas slowly being brought under control.

Except Atlanta.

That city, overrun by gang violence, turned terroristic and aimed at the disaster responders instead of each other, had become a fully occupied military operation intent on getting the law-abiding citizens out and containing those that remained in a prison of their own making. The stupid fucks, Steven had reported, had burned everything to the ground. What they hadn’t burned had been turned into a compound of sorts, and Steven predicted it was only a matter of time before the military flexed its might and went in with heavier artillery.

After that, Elliot had stopped asking about the state of the rest of the country. His focus narrowed to nine—now eight—people.

“I don’t want your fucking plane ride,” Tim snarled unexpectedly, lunging at Elliot from across the fire ring. His fist was in Elliot’s t-shirt before anyone could react, hauling him forward, above the coals that still smoldered from their morning breakfast. “You fucking asshole, think you can just erase him by making us fall at your feet with your money and connections. We’re leaving because of you and your fucked up brain, and if it weren’t for you being so
weak,
we’d be able to go back and take care of business.”

“Elliot’s not the reason we’re leaving,” Aaron said, his arm across Tim’s chest, trying to pull him off. Behind Elliot, Brian held him around the waist, but the effort lifted him more off his feet, taking away his leverage. Ghost growled menacingly, though his focus split between Brian and Tim, unsure which one was the aggressor.

The pressure dragged Elliot closer to the burning embers, and he held on to Tim’s forearms with a death grip, trying to get leverage to pull back. His toes displaced a couple of the lake rocks they’d used to border the fire, but he couldn’t dig his heels in.

“I don’t want to forget him,” he said, scrambling for the words that would make Tim calm down.

“Why not?” Tim sneered. “He hated your guts, and we would have killed your faggot ass and left you to rot if your boyfriend’s sister hadn’t threatened us.”

“What are you talking about?” Ash demanded.

Tim turned hateful eyes on Ash without letting Elliot go. “I can’t count how many times she said you’d all leave Jason and me behind if we touched a hair on his lily ass.” He shook Elliot, who dug his fingers into Tim’s forearms.

The unmistakable sound of a cocking rifle got everyone’s attention. Charlotte stood to the left of Elliot, near the tents, her face a mask of calm. “Let him go.”

“Or what?” Tim challenged. “You’ll shoot me?”

“Let him go, and we won’t have to find out.”

Slowly, Tim’s clenched hands loosened, and Elliot fell back into Brian’s arms. Aaron pulled Tim away from camp, past a crying Jennifer and a stoic Charlotte. Aaron was already murmuring in Tim’s ear as he led him away, and they watched the two disappear in the direction of the lake.

“He’s out of his mind,” Ash said almost wondrously.

“You would be too if someone you love had begged you to kill them,” Jennifer said. “What if it had been Charlotte in the bear trap? Or even you, Ash? Would you have wanted to live?”

“It wasn’t anyone but Jason,” Brian said, stepping between Jennifer and Ash as though the confrontation would continue through the two of them. “And infighting isn’t going to help. Jennifer, go make sure you’re all packed up and start breaking down your tent. Charlotte, you, too. Riley, help your mother.”

Charlotte handed Ash the rifle and did as she was told without a backward glance, Riley falling into step behind her. Brian, Elliot, and Ash stared at each other.

“We have to get moving,” Ash said. He was breathing heavily and sweat dampened his long curls. Elliot wanted to go to him, wrap in the protectiveness of his arms and forget what had just happened, but he held back. Since the morning at the lake, Ash had been subdued, and while that was true of them all after Jason’s death, Elliot wasn’t so sure Ash’s was a direct result of yet more death in their midst. Well, not entirely.

Stalking to their tent, Elliot began to pull from the ground the pegs anchoring it. Ash shuffled in the direction Aaron and Tim had disappeared, and Brian came to his side to help him. They’d already packed up the interior, so it was quick work to break down the rest.

When the three men returned from the lake, Aaron was soaked from the waist down, Tim entirely so, and Ash looked less angry. Tim approached Elliot, contrition written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, glancing at Aaron as if the apology had been coerced and he was proving he’d be good. “This isn’t your fault, and I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay,” was all Elliot could muster. “It hurts, losing a close friend. We all understand.”

“Yeah, well,” Tim said, looking into the distance and sniffing. “Like I said, it won’t happen again.” He stalked off and began disassembling his tent in jerky movements.

Half an hour later, they were all packed up. No one seemed to want to be the one to say it was time, knowing when they left, it made Jason’s death a finality not even the mounded grave had been. By unspoken agreement, they filed through the clearing to the trees in the direction of Jason’s final resting place, ringing the loose dirt as they had two days before. They each took a moment and slowly peeled off, leaving Tim standing there last, Aaron a few feet away.

“I promise, buddy,” Tim said almost under his breath. “I’ll be back for you.”

Elliot didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it sent an uneasy shiver up his spine, nevertheless.

The next few days passed uneventfully, if one could call mounting tempers, the sun beating down on them relentlessly, and everyone bitching at everyone else uneventful. They passed town after town, though, staying to the roads this time and skirting wide of any lands marked with no trespassing signs. They were all miserable, and while Tim had more reason than most to be so, he took his pain out on everyone, including Jennifer and Aaron, who did everything they could to keep him from losing it again.

Ash had pressed one of the Colts into Elliot’s hand and murmured to him never to go anywhere without it, even to relieve himself, and to do his best not to let the others know he carried it. He said to let them assume it had gone missing. Not one to argue when it appeared he was the one who most stoked Tim’s ire, Elliot complied, and the weight of the Colt at the small of his back was reassuring in a way it had never been before.

Regular updates from Uncle Marvin told them the government was no closer to uncovering the identity of the terrorists than before, but the UN was sending a steady stream of supplies into the country to help displaced persons. FEMA, in conjunction with the Army National Guard, was deployed everywhere, and Marvin’s recommendation was to avoid populated areas as best they could.

“They’re not letting people over the border easily,” he’d said. “My suggestion is to try to cross around Laramie, Wyoming. There’s one interstate, which I believe is heavily guarded, but if you stay south of that, there’s not a lot out there. It’s at the northern edge of a national forest, and there are trees and mountains for decent cover, but you won’t have a lot of people to avoid. Should be able to gear up in Laramie and go from there.”

“Can you look into where it would be best to charter a plane for eight people? Once we get into power, Elliot can get enough cash, but we’ll have to get away from the border fairly quickly, if we can. Otherwise it’ll look obvious we’re from the east, with our gear and our, uh, personal hygiene. I don’t want to get stopped if we can avoid it. They’ll probably ship us to a refugee camp instead of letting us come to you.”

“I’ll find you something,” Marvin promised. “You just get across those mountains as safely as you can, and I’ll get you here.”

“Thanks,” Ash said, hanging up.

Elliot glanced over, the dying firelight beneath the remains of their dinner on the fourth evening since leaving Central City playing over Ash’s features. He still looked worried.

“He getting us a plane?”

“I think he’ll at least point us to someone discreet. I don’t know if he’ll go so far as to contact whoever he finds, but he’ll cough up a name.”

“Everything else okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Elliot closed his mouth and shrugged, not wanting to point out that Ash had promised if Elliot forgave him the first time, he’d not push him away again. He was too tired and irritable to press that particular button.

We all have a lot on our minds, not the least of which is Psycho Tim. Let it go for now.
It was what he’d been telling himself since Charlotte had threatened Tim with a gun. The peace within the group was forced, as though all of them were waiting, watching the sizzle of a trail of gunpowder as it approached a powder keg, unable to stop it. They were all getting desperate, beyond tired of walking, though by now, their feet had adapted to the pain and their shoes were well broken in—even those who’d stolen new ones. The urge to lash out was rising, and the control to keep from doing it waning. They needed a boost, badly.

“No reason. Just checking,” he murmured, staring at the small flames licking the night. Supposing someone should finally clean the dinner pans, he stood and grabbed them with the firefighter’s glove Aaron had given to the group when he’d arrived. It enabled them to grip even burning logs to turn them over. If it weren’t for Aaron’s massive contributions, as well as Jennifer shoring Charlotte up and keeping her from squabbling with Ash, Elliot would have preferred they’d never met the others. But there was no doubt they’d supported the group far more than Elliot ever had.