Unthinkable (Berger Series) (12 page)

Yoshi looked down at Damien, then back over at Paul’s body. Wordless he reached over and pulled the gun from Paul’s lifeless hand and checked it.

“What are you doing?” asked Evan.

Leaning down next to Damien’s ear, Yoshi spoke softly. “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry. You saved my life.” He pressed the pistol into Damien’s hand.

Damien met Yoshi’s eyes and nodded.

“Wait, what?” asked Evan, not believing what he was seeing.

Damien adjusted his hold on the pistol and before Evan could move he closed his eyes, put the pistol to his head and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 10

“Shit!” Evan stumbled back and threw down the bloody rags while the shot still echoed. “What the fuck…” He looked at Yoshi.

Yoshi shrugged, though his body shook
. “Did you want to listen to him scream in pain for the next three days until he died?”

Evan turned and paced back and forth, muttering under his breath. Yoshi took the bloody gun out of Damien’s hands and set it on the ground. Turning back to Paul, he reached into his front pockets and pulled out a handful of loose ammunition from one and a spare loaded clip from the other. Yoshi set that next to the gun. He rolled the body over and checked the back pockets. In one was a police ID.
In the other, a small radio. Yoshi put the ID back and crushed the radio under his heel. He put one arm under the body to drag it. Evan came over and together they pulled it into the far alley.

They went back to Damien. Yoshi hesitated before going through his pockets. He had nothing in his front pockets. In his back pocket was the paperback, still wrapped in a now blood
y plastic bag. Yoshi carefully unwrapped it, holding it with the bag to avoid his bloody fingers, though there were still drips. He put it down on a dry place. In the other pocket was a North Carolina ID. Yoshi handed that to Evan. He slipped it into his pocket.

Evan and Yoshi dragged Damien into the alleyway where they’d left the bag. Yoshi pulled the bag open and
grabbed a towel. He wiped his hands and handed it to Evan. He rubbed his hand roughly and watched as Yoshi went back and grabbed the weapon, ammunition and book. He put the book and ammunition in his pockets. Evan handed him the towel back and he wiped off the gun and put it in his waistband. Yoshi looked at Evan, and then carefully laid the towel over Damien’s face while Evan silently picked up the duffel bag.

“We have to get out of this city,” mumbled Yoshi as he turned and led them away. Evan nodded, starting to shake as the adrenaline left his system. He felt numb as they walked away from the shattered glass and bloodied street. Damien was…dead. Evan couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Suddenly Yoshi pivoted and threw up against a building. Evan moved to help him, but Yoshi waved him away.
He tried to breathe slowly through his mouth, looking down the road ahead until Yoshi finished.

Yoshi grimaced and wiped his mouth with one hand and held his stomach with his other. He turned back to Evan. “I think I’m
getting sick,” he said. “I wasn’t feeling great yesterday, and now….this.” He shook his head. “But we have to get out of here, don’t worry, I’ll make it.” Evan nodded silent and adjusted the bag as Yoshi took off again.

It seemed an hour or so passed as the houses and buildings went by. The day grew hotter and Yoshi’s limp grew worse as he started to slow. Evan took one arm and helped
carry him along. Yoshi didn’t argue. They passed a set of train tracks and again found themselves in an empty landscape. He felt Yoshi give him more of his weight. Soon they saw a farm and it’s buildings. The sight hastened their steps as they headed for what they hoped was salvation.

The air grew thick with the smell of manure. Yoshi stopped and looked like he was going to be sick again. Instead he shook his head and started walking again. A dozen cows grazed on either side of the road, a broken fence behind them. They ignored Evan and Yoshi as they
went past. As they approached the farmhouse they saw that all the blinds were pulled down shut and only a wind chime broke the eerie quiet. Beyond the house were a couple of outbuildings and a barn. The barn door was half open. Deciding the barn looked safer, Evan helped Yoshi limp into the barn. The bottom floor contained a tractor and various tools. There was a ladder to a hay loft up above. “We should get up into the loft,” said Evan.

He dropped the bag and helped Yoshi slowly climb the ladder. Yoshi
crawled a short way onto the hay-strewn floor and collapsed. “Yoshi!” cried Evan as he rushed to his friend’s side. Yoshi’s eyes were closed and he was shaking. When Evan touched him his skin was burning up. He looked around the loft for help. Half of it was stocked with hay bales man-high, otherwise there was nothing. Evan rolled Yoshi over and pulled him deeper into the loft as his friend mumbled incoherently. He went back down and picked up the bag. Climbing back up, he pulled open the bag, grabbed a blanket and tucked it around Yoshi. Evan watched him mumble for a minute before turning and climbing back down the ladder.

Steeling himself,
Evan walked back toward the farmhouse. Near the back door was an old-fashioned hand pump. With a spark of hope he walked to it and started working it. After a few squeaky minutes cool water splashed out. He caught a handful and started scrubbing his hands in it. It was his fault Damien was dead, he thought as he scrubbed. He shouldn’t have trusted Paul. Evan remembered his dream. Blood on his hands. That dream had come true. But what about the dream of Yoshi dead on the road? Would that come true too? Evan looked down and realized he was rubbing his hands together even though he’d long since run out of water. He shook himself, worked the pump again and splashed cold water on his face.

Evan turned his attention back to the house. He walked all the way around it, seeing that the blinds were closed in
all the windows. The house looked weather-beaten and old. There was a wind chime on the front porch and some decorative rocks around the back door. Both doors were locked. Evan stood near the back door and picked up a rock. He looked from the rock to the window and back again before throwing it. The window broke loudly. Evan waited; tense, for any sound of movement, but there was none. He picked up another rock and used it to finish sweeping out the glass. A rotten, musty smell rolled out from inside the house. Evan carefully climbed inside, sneakers crunching on the broken glass. He pulled the front of his shirt over his mouth as he looked around. It was dim with all of the curtains being shut, but there was enough light to see by. He carefully moved further into the house, looking into each of the downstairs rooms. Everything was dusty and stale and he had to fight the urge to gag or sneeze in the still air.

There was no sign of life in any of the downstairs rooms so Evan turned to the broad wooden staircase. As he walked up the creaky stairs, Evan was reminded of every horror movie he’d ever seen. He wondered how stupid he was being. But then, those were movies; the things he’d seen today with his own eyes beat anything Hollywood could create. Evan shuddered. As he reached the top of the stairs he remembered that Yoshi had the gun. He cursed quietly, but chose not to go running back down the stairs. The doors were all shut, but the smell grew worse as he approached the room at the end of the hall. That door was slightly ajar. Evan knew what he’d find; he pushed the door open anyway. The smell was a physical assault and it was all he could do to jerk the door shut again, but not before catching a glimpse of the decomposing bodies on the bed.

Evan stumbled back a few steps before falling to his hands and knees and puking. He stayed on his hands and knees, fighting for air and sanity. Yoshi needed him. Yoshi needs me, he repeated silently to himself. “Yoshi needs me!” he yelled out loud as he pushed himself back onto his feet. Evan pulled his shirt back over his mouth and ran back downstairs. Taking another ragged breath, he went into the kitchen and looked for a pot. Quickly finding what he was looking for, he grabbed a towel off the stove and carried both things back outside.

As soon as he hit the fresher air again Evan dropped what he was carrying and threw up against the house. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the panic. The image of Damien competed with the bodies on the bed in his mind’s eye. Evan opened his eyes and tried to force himself to breathe. He turned back to th
e pump and filled the pot., splashing water on his face and gritting his teeth. “Yoshi needs me,” he muttered out loud again.

Making his way back to the barn again, Evan carefully climbed the ladder carrying the pot. Yoshi had thrown off the blanket and was curled into a tight ball. Evan soaked the towel in the water and laid it across Yoshi’s forehead. Yoshi whimpered at the touch and tried to curl into a tighter ball, if that was possible. Evan looked down despairingly at his friend. He looked like one of those insects that curled up at the slightest touch. He whimpered again and shivered. Evan barely recognized the man he’d known in this frightened child. He noticed
the gun had fallen halfway out, and reached to take it. “No!” cried Yoshi as he pulled the gun free, startling Evan into dropping it. Numbly, Evan spread the blanket back over Yoshi and stepped back.

A wave of exhaustion hit Evan like a sledgehammer. He sat down hard on the
floor, staring at Yoshi, but unseeing, as memories washed through his mind. Part of him wanted to cry, part of him wanted to scream. He wanted to shout, to run, anything. Most of all he wanted to forget and not to remember. Maybe just pick up the gun and blow his brains out.

Evan
blinked and looked down at the gun. One bullet, right? He picked it up and felt its heft in his hand. One movement of his finger and this would all be over. Evan looked over at Yoshi. For the moment he seemed to have slipped into quieter dreams. If he was going to do it, it would have to be two bullets. Leaving Yoshi to starve or die of fever wouldn’t be fair. With trembling hands he started to point the gun at Yoshi.

Yoshi needs me.

The gun clattered loudly as Evan dropped it again. There had to be another way.  He shook his head and looked at the gun. Curious, he pulled out the clip. It was empty, he realized.
That crazy bastard
, thought Evan. What, had he expected, to point the gun at them and they’d line up so he could put a bullet in the back of their heads? But Evan knew he’d just stood there watching Damien and Yoshi fight. It was his fault. He was weak. Evan put the gun down, starting to shake. Maybe it was good that Yoshi still had the other bullets.

Evan sat staring into space, unthinking, unfeeling, until it started to grow dark and he remembered that they hadn
’t eaten anything since breakfast. He blinked and slowly shook his head to bring himself back to the present. Food would be good for both of them, he thought. He considered the house and shuddered. Better to face that again in full daylight. So Evan pulled open the bag and grabbed a can of soup and the can opener. There was still water in the pot so he poured the can in and swirled it together. He took a plastic cup from the bag and leaned over to wake Yoshi, who was tangled in the covers now, mumbling. Evan gently shook Yoshi’s shoulder.

“No don’t! Please don’t!” Yoshi cried out as he curled back up into a ball. Evan stared down at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t Yoshi. He put the cup down a few feet away and came back to the still whimpering and quietly begging Yoshi.

“Yoshi! Yoshisada!” Evan called his name as he shook him hard with both hands. Yoshi fought against him until his eyes flew open. They were unfocused at first. He blinked a few times and gradually focused. Yoshi looked up into Evan’s concerned face.

“Evan?” Yoshi asked weakly, “what’s wrong?”

Evan stared at him, weighing his response. “Nothing,” he said finally, “just, supper is ready and you need to try and eat.” Yoshi sat up as Evan retrieved the cup. “I know it’s cold, sorry.”

“It’s okay.
” Yoshi slurped from the cup.

Evan got another cup for himself and sat down next to Yoshi. He reached over and felt Yoshi’s forehead as Yoshi watched him bemusedly. “You’re still warm. What were you dreaming about?” asked Evan as he retrieved his hand.

Yoshi looked into the distance before shaking his head. “I don’t remember,” he said. He put down the cup quickly and crawled to the ladder.

“Yoshi?”

Yoshi waved Evan off and slipped down the ladder. Evan heard him getting sick again and worried as he went to the ladder, debating going after him anyway. But Yoshi soon appeared and shook his head, climbing up on his own. At least that seemed to be the same old stubborn Yoshi.

Yoshi carefully drank a little more from his cup. He started pulling the stuff from his pockets and looked concerned. “Evan,
where’s the…” Evan pointed at the pistol on the floor. “Oh, okay.” Yoshi finished his cup of soup, lay down and pulled the covers back over himself.

Evan knew he should try to sleep; he could feel every exhausted bone in his body. Instead he picked up the ammunition, loaded the pistol and w
alked a few steps away. This gun had been used to kill someone today. He looked at Yoshi. Yoshi had killed someone today, too. His stomach tightened. All he had done was stand there while it happened. Evan looked back down at the loaded gun in his hands.

Why were they still fighting this? Why were they even struggling to make it through the next day, to get another
mile down the road? Who knew what waited for them even if they did make it all the way to Wyoming. And what kind of people would they be by then? Evan felt the unseen blood on his hands, felt the cold steel in his grip and saw the all too real blood on his shirt. What happened to the friendly guy that made sales by being a buddy? The one that got teased in the office about being Minnesota nice. That man he once was had died somewhere on the road, and until now he just hadn’t realized it.

Evan felt the weight of the pistol and again considered just finishing both of them off. Yoshi was sound asleep, quiet for now; he’d never know. Evan forced himself to put the gun down on the floor. No. They were still alive. They had to keep trying, keep fighting.