Unthinkable (Berger Series) (6 page)

Damien stirred with the birdsong at dawn, Yoshi right after. Evan said nothing of his night watch as he yawned and pulled a loaf of bread out of his pack. Clouds came with the dawn and as they walked and ate the sky seemed to drop lower and lower. The humidity was even worse than before and soon had them soaked. At mid-morning they stopped for a break. Evan stumbled to a seat, dizzy from the heat. Damien offered water from his canteen, which Evan eagerly took. “We should stop here a while,” said Yoshi, leaning on a tree and rubbing his ankle. Damien had said nothing about the limp or how it was getting worse.

“There’s a farm a mile or so down the road,” said Damien, “it’s going to rain later; we should stop there.” Damien took back his canteen, took a swig, then went down to the creek to refill it.

Evan stretched his neck. Yoshi squatted next to him, quickly falling into a sitting position. He rubbed his ankle. Evan looked at him with concern. “How are you doing?

“Fine. You?” Yoshi concentrated on his ankle.

“Fine, I guess,” Evan sighed and looked up at the lead sky.

Damien returned from the creek. “Are you guys hungry?” he asked.

“Not really,” said Yoshi, climbing to his feet.

Evan got up too. “Naw, let’s find this farmhouse before it rains.”

“All right.”
The three of them continued down the road. The same corn field stretched on the right as they trudged through the muggy morning. Somewhere in the distance came thunder, spurring their footsteps faster. The field ended and they saw a small farm house. There was no vehicle in the driveway and no signs of animals. “Maybe it’s empty?” said Evan hopefully. Yoshi and Damien exchanged a glance. Thunder boomed closer. They cautiously turned up the driveway.

With a creak the front door opened and an old man with a shotgun stepped onto the porch. He looked towards the driveway and
aimed his shotgun as he saw the three. Damien threw himself to the side. Evan grunted as Yoshi shoved him to the ground and landed on top of him.  Yoshi grabbed the pistol off Evan’s hip and fired, echoed a split second later by Damien’s gun. The old man stumbled backward and fell. The shotgun clattered onto the porch. Evan stopped breathing as he realized what they’d done. Damien got up first, then Yoshi, both of them holding pistols at the ready. They cautiously moved forward. Evan stood up slowly and watched until Yoshi and Damien had nearly reached the house. He quickly ran to catch up to them.

The old man lay sprawled just inside the door, dead, a single bullet wound to his chest. Damien and Yoshi looked at each other. Damien shrugged and put his pistol away. “It don’t matter which of us hit him, the important thing is he didn’t hit us. Let’s get him off the porch.” Yoshi thrust the pistol back at Evan and helped Damien drag the body to the side of the house. Evan stared at the warm pistol in his hands. They came back and Evan handed the pistol back to Yoshi.

“You keep it,” he said, pulling his belt loose to take off the holster. Yoshi wouldn’t meet his eyes as he handed it to him.

“Then you take this,” said Damien, handing Evan the shotgun.

“I’ve never shot anything like this,” protested Evan.

“It
don’t matter. Just make sure the butt is against your shoulder when you fire.” Damien opened the front door and walked inside. Evan held the unfamiliar gun and stared down at the pool of red seeping through the wood. Thunder sounded even closer and the breeze started to pick up. Yoshi looked down at the porch, then moved to go inside.

Starting to shake, Evan grabbed Yoshi’s arm. “You just killed someone!”

“Damien did,” Yoshi said quietly, looking back toward the road.

“You don’t know that for sure. Look at me Yoshi.” Evan tugged on Yoshi’s arm.

“Evan,” Yoshi looked at Evan but wouldn’t meet his eyes, “I told you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.” His voice was flat.

“What the hell? Someone just died here!”

“And it wasn’t you or me.” Yoshi’s voice was flat. He shook his head. “It’s not a game, Evan, people get hurt, or die,” he pulled free and entered the house.

Evan paced on the porch. He looked down at the shotgun. There was blood on the stock. Shivering, he knelt and tried to rub it
off . Evan looked around, not wanting to go into a dead man’s house. More thunder. He watched the rain approaching across the swaying corn fields. The rain was cold when it reached him at last. Lightning finally drove him inside.

The storms thrashed around the house the rest of the day. Evan found beer in the fridge. It was warm, but he didn’t care. He took it and climbed up into the attic of the house. It was hot and stuffy so he opened a window and let the rain come in and cool things down. He could hear the other two downstairs. The attic was full of junk: boxes and crates and trunks. Evan didn’t look into anything. He sat on the top of the stairs, looked out at the rain and nursed the beer. He tried not to think of his life, about Yoshi or his parents or Shelly. Why hadn’t he asked her out sooner? Especially he tried not to think about the dead
old man. Eventually the falling darkness drove him downstairs.

Evan walked into the living room. A couple candles provided some light. Yoshi lay stretched out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Evan sat down in an arm chair. There was a fireplace with a single faded photograph of a man and woman on the mantle. Evan walked over to it and laid it flat. Yoshi watched, but didn’t comment. Evan sat back down again, but couldn’t stay still. He walked into the kitchen. Damien sat at the kitchen table reading a frayed paperback by another candle. Evan’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten all day. He pulled open the cupboards until he found some cans of chili. There were matches on the counter by the stove. Evan lit the gas and focused on heating the meal. Thunder crashed so close it made Evan jump. He glanced at Damien, but he was so engrossed in his book that he didn’t even look up.

Evan called Yoshi to supper as he put the food on the table. Damien closed the book, revealing the cover. It was an old science fiction novel. Yoshi stretched into the room and sat across from Damien. Dinner was eaten in smothering silence as the rain faded away. Evan wanted to shout, scream, shatter the silence with a hammer. There was a dead man outside and here they were eating his food like it was the most natural thing in the world. Evan finished first and threw his bowl clattering in the sink. Yoshi and Damien glanced at him, then at each other, then went back to their food and their silence.

Evan grabbed another candle and lit it from the one on the table with trembling hands. He climbed back up to the attic. Thunder rumbled as the storms receded. He set the candle down and threw open the nearest trunk.
A wedding dress, growing moldy with age. He slammed the lid shut and crawled to the middle of the floor. Evan buried his head in his hands, fighting back tears.

Footsteps on the stairs made him raise his head. Yoshi stood awkward in the shadows, holding a bottle. He
cautiously entered the circle of candlelight and sat next to Evan. Yoshi twisted the bottle open and took a swig before handing it over. Evan felt it burn all the way down. Yoshi pulled the dog tag out of his pocket, looked at it, then put it back. Evan handed the bottle back. Words formed in Evan’s head, but they couldn’t be spoken. They sat in silence until the bottle was gone.

Chapter 5

Yoshi shook Evan awake early the next morning. Evan’s head pounded in way it hadn’t since college. The bright glare of the morning sun through the attic window wasn’t helping any. The smell of food from downstairs was simultaneously appealing and nauseating. He stumbled down the stairs behind Yoshi to find that Damien had fixed breakfast. He’d even found some instant coffee. Gratefully Evan drank a cup, feeling it start to take the edge off the hangover. When they finished, Evan insisted on washing up. After, they put their packs back on and stepped outside. Evan winced in the glare of daylight and looked down. He saw the bloodstain on the porch and looked toward the side of the house. “Hey guys?” he said. Damien and Yoshi turned to look at him. “Shouldn’t we bury the guy?”

“We need to hit the road,” said Yoshi, “we don’t have time.”

“We had enough time to spend the night in his house!” hissed Evan.

“Burying him won’t bring him back, any more than doing his dishes,” said Yoshi. He and Evan stared at each other.

“Evan, maybe you’re right,” Damien interrupted, “maybe not six feet, but at least put him in the ground.”

“Thanks,” Evan turned from Yoshi. “Let’s find a shovel.” Yoshi shook his head  but followed.

They only found two shovels so the three of them took
turns turning dirt a few feet from the back of the house. Then they dragged the body over, dumped it in the hole and covered it again. It was easily mid-morning by the time they finished. Evan was certain he’d sweated the last of the alcohol out of his system.

“Are we ready to go now?” asked Yoshi when they finished.

“Shouldn’t we say something?” Evan thought back to his parent’s funeral.

“We don’t even know his name,” said Yoshi.

“True enough, but he was still a guy.” He bowed his head and said a short prayer anyway. Damien took off his hat and stood respectfully. Yoshi watched him speak.

He took a breath as he finished and went to grab his pack and the shotgun. They walked in silence. Evan considered starting a conversation as they walked, but Yoshi kept his head down and tried to keep from limping while Damien’s eyes darted around as if looking for trouble. Evan tried to talk to Yoshi when they stopped for lunch, but Yoshi barely acknowledged him and focused on cleaning the gun. Evan worried. Yoshi had always been a quiet person, but his silence combined with his recent behavior…well there was no telling what was going on in his head.

After lunch and a break for the hot part of the afternoon they walked again until evening. Yoshi sat against a tree, adjusting his socks and rubbing his ankle while Damien pulled together sticks to make a small fire. Evan crouched next to Damien. “So, where are you from?” he asked. “The south, I guess?”

“I’m not from nowhere particular,” Damien gave Evan a look and started lighting the fire.

“I’m from Minnesota.”

Damien grunted a response.

“Yoshi was born in Japan, but he lived all over with his dad in the military.”

Another grunt from Damien as the fire stated. Yoshi
was watching him now too. Evan gave up, walked over to Yoshi and sat down.

“Evan?” said Yoshi as he retied his shoe.

“Yeah?”

“What did I tell you about talking about me and my family,” Yoshi looked up and glared at Evan.

“Just trying to make conversation, sorry,” Evan got up and walked back towards the fire, sitting in between Damien and Yoshi. Neither of them spoke to him for the rest of the night.

It took two quiet days to reach the next town. Evan felt more and more alone with each passing mile, shifting the shotgun from one hand to the other as they walked. Yoshi’s presence was a comfort, but he was still changed and Evan knew he wouldn’t talk about it until he was good and ready. Damien remained a mystery. At night he pulled out his book and read until it got too dark to see, often tracing the words with his finger as he read. Evan found his dreams haunted by the dead old man, watching him with accusing eyes. Evan woke one night and caught Yoshi sitting awake, just staring out into space.

“Yosh?”

Yoshi started and looked over. Evan could see the circles under his eyes. “What?”

“You okay?”

Yoshi sighed. “Go back to sleep.”

“You should too.”

“I will.”

Evan sat up instead and came to sit by him. “I’ll keep watch a while.”

Yoshi studied his face in the darkness. Evan wondered what he was seeing. “Okay,” he said at last, curling up next to him. Evan gently patted his shoulder and watched him fall
asleep, trying to remember a quote he’d heard once about who you were in the dark.

The next morning Evan made breakfast again. As they walked he noticed too that Yoshi’s limp seemed to be
worsening. Yoshi made no complaint, but Damien slowed their pace.

Finally they approached a town. As they drew closer they could see a school bus parked across the road. They stopped just outside gun range. Damien told them to wait. He took out his pistol, pointedly set it on the ground and walked forward. As he approached the bus a man came around the end. They talked briefly. Damien turned and pointed back at the other two. Evan glanced at Yoshi. Yoshi’s hand rested on the pistol and his eyes were locked on Damien.

Damien turned and walked back to them. “Evan, give me your shotgun,” he said when he reached them, bending to pick up his pistol. “Yoshi you’re fine.  Let’s go talk to Andy.” Evan handed it over, but found he felt naked without a weapon as they walked toward the bus. Yoshi’s hand hovered near his pistol, but he followed Damien and Evan. Just as they reached the bus four men jumped out. One of the men grabbed Evan by the front of the shirt and slammed him up against the bus.

“Hey!” yelled Damien as he grabbed Yoshi before he could pull his weapon. “What are you doing?”

Yoshi cursed and struggled against Damien.

“You didn’t tell us he was one of those,” said Andy, nodding at Evan.

“He’s cool man. He’s from Minnesota, not Baghdad. Just let him go."

Andy looked from Damien to Evan to Yoshi and back to Damien. “Fine, let him go,” he said. The man let go and Evan stepped next to Yoshi with a glare. Damien let go and Yoshi jerked himself away. Evan realized Yoshi was shaking.

Andy harrumphed and looked at the trio. “What are you doing here, Damien? And why did you bring these idiots with you?” Yoshi sucked in his breath.

“I was just traveling. This seemed as good a place to stop as any. ‘Sides, these two needed a sitter,” said Damien.

“A sitter?” exploded Yoshi. Evan grabbed his arm. “We don’t need you or anyone else.” He poked his free hand into Damien’s chest. Damien put his hands up.

“Yosh, it’s okay…” Evan tugged on his arm.

“No Evan,” Yoshi turned. “We should never have…”

“Yoshi?” Damien interrupted, touching Yoshi’s arm.

“What?” Yoshi pulled himself free of Evan and away from everyone.

“I’m sorry, man. Look, they’re serving dinner here, why don’t you get something to eat and then ya’ll can leave,” said Damien

Yoshi took another step back and looked from Damien to Evan. He shook his head.
“Dinner…okay, fine.”

Damien pointedly handed the shotgun back to Evan.

“Now wait…” started Andy.

“I
gotta gun, you gotta gun, Yoshi’s gotta gun,” he said, looking at Andy. Evan cradled the shotgun, surprised at how glad he was to hold it. After a tense moment Andy led them behind the school bus, followed by his men.

The town looked like any other small town in the middle of nowhere. A few building hunched up against the paved main street, with gravel roads leading to other buildings behind. An American flag flew over the town hall and
an ancient cannon rusted in front of the VFW opposite it. Andy led them into the VFW. The place was crowded with people talking over steaming plates of food. Evan’s stomach growled at the smell. People glanced up when they entered, then openly stared. Evan would have turned around, but his feet had other ideas and he made his way to the buffet line. Yoshi stood behind him, tense.

“We could just leave,” said Yoshi in his ear.

“A good meal,” said Evan, “We’ll have one good meal and then we’ll go.”

“We should go now, they don’t want us here.”

“Maybe they’ll even have somewhere we can sleep, in a bed,” Evan ignored Yoshi and filled his plate. Holding the plate in one hand and the shotgun in the other he found a table in the corner. Evan leaned the gun against the wall and slipped off his pack before sitting down. Yoshi sat down with his back to the wall. Damien had vanished into the crowd. People still glanced their way, but most of them went back to their food. Evan forced himself to eat slowly and enjoy every bite. As he finished he scratched his chin and mumbled.

“What?” asked
Yoshi.

“This beard,” said Evan, “I’ve never had one before and I know it makes me look all the more like the terrorist they think I am.”

“What, the end of the world is supposed to come with grooming? That only happens in the movies.” Yoshi scratched his own hairy chin.

“That beard is bringing out the Irish in you,” Evan said.

“I’m getting red hairs? Figures my dad would be showing up at a time like this.” A shadow passed in Yoshi’s eyes, quickly gone. “If every guy with a beard is a terrorist,” he smiled, “then we’re all in a lot of trouble.”

“You know what I meant.” Evan smiled at the sudden appearance of the old Yoshi. “Hey, who knows, maybe these folks even have a way to bathe.”

“See, that’s why they keep looking at us, it’s not the beard, it’s the odor wafting their direction.”

“That’s disgusting,” Evan made a face.

“And probably true,” Yoshi leaned back and smiled, the smile at last, reaching his eyes.

“Okay, thanks, now I’m done eating.” Evan pushed his plate back. The room was starting to empty. He felt full for the first time in days. How many hungry days ahead until they reached Wyoming?

Damien approached the table, twirling a cigarette in his fingers. “I guess ya’ll ain’t stickin’ ‘round?”

“No,” said Yoshi warily.

“Listen,” Damien sighed, “I’m sorry for what I said about needin’ a sitter. If ya’ll want me to come along I will.”

“Sure,” said Evan, ignoring Yoshi’s wary look.

“Thanks,” Damien looked relieved. “When you’re done I got a place for ya’ll to spend the night.”

“We’re leaving now,” said Yoshi.

Evan looked between him and Damien. “Why not spend the night? There will be plenty of nights to sleep on the ground.”

Yoshi looked torn. “Fine, but we’re leaving first thing. Not staying for breakfast.”

“Deal.” Evan cracked a small smile.

Damien led the way out of a side door. As soon as they were outside Yoshi stopped and looked Damien square in the eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Yoshi.

Damien shrugged and pulled out a lighter.

“Why offer to come with us? Obviously you have friends here,” pressed Yoshi.

Damien lit the cigarette and took a drag before looking at Yoshi. “Maybe I just ain’t ready to settle down yet.”

Yoshi shook his head and allowed Damien to lead them a few blocks to an old brick building. He knocked on the door and an older man answered. “Take care of them,” Damien said as he waved goodnight. The man led them into a back room. Evan had an uneasy feeling as they walked through the house, but shook it off. Yoshi’s paranoia was rubbing off on him, he figured. There was a pair of cots in a back room. Evan set the shotgun on the floor. Between the food and the exhaustion of the road he was asleep in moments.

A gun blast jarred Evan awake. He fumbled for the shotgun, but hands yanked him from the cot. Yoshi was cursing nearby. A kick drove the air out of him and he dropped.  Hands held him down as a bag was forced over his head. Evan screamed and struggled but it was useless. A thick blanket wrapped around him, pinning his arms. Someone picked him up and dragged from the room. Evan felt the change under his feet from floor to grass. A punch to the head made the world spin. He was tossed into the bed of a pickup. Someone held him down while a whispered voice in his ear threatened violence that froze Evan’s blood cold. He stopped struggling and fought back panic, trying to breathe evenly as the truck sped along.  There was a word or two of conversation, but it was lost in the wind.

The truck bumped along for what felt like years. Evan strained to hear anything, any sign of what lay in store. He knew that he was totally at their mercy. The thought nearly drove him to panic again, but he pushed it down. What the hell was going on? Why were they doing this to him? Couldn’t he just be living his nine to five
life? Why had the world gone to shit? He tried to stop his thoughts, but they pounded against his mind in unrelenting waves. The evil whispering voice returned with more promises of violence as the truck slowed. Now Evan panicked, struggling in vain as someone laughing held him down. The truck made slow circles in the road. As it picked up speed again they picked up Evan and threw him from the bed. Evan felt himself flying through the air. He cried out as he landed painfully on his side then rolled. He struggled as he came to a stop and wriggled free. He ripped the bag off his head “Goddamnit!”