The Long Way To Reno (37 page)

            The
sight of his injury, combined with the fact that he was
thisclose
to
having his head shot off just terrified the hell out of me.

            Chuck
practically shoved me aside to get to Harley, and he examined the injury as he
caught his breath, shining a penlight on it. I almost barfed at the sight of
it. Diego joined in the rapid, manly conversation, voices rising and hands
gesturing and it was Chuck that decided that cutting through that thread to
release the flap of skin was the best solution.

            I
thought I was going to faint at this point, catching hold of the stairway
railing until Diego caught my arm with an amused chuckle. Both Troys were
yelling at each other, their voices obscenely loud over the buzzing in my ears,
and it was Diego that helped me walk away from the situation.

            “You
heard us, then?” he asked, guiding me away from the stairway, both of us
heading for the destroyed doors. “We saw you two at the last second. We were
tracking that particular group. We’d no idea you two were in there.”

            “From
the freeway?” I wheezed. “You guys were on the way over – “

            “Yeah,
yeah, we were. He was worried,” Diego stressed, lifting a grey-speckled
eyebrow. We were outside once more, and my legs were shaking so much that I had
to sit.

            “So
is he hit, or what?” Chloe asked with heavy irritation, her short blond hair tucked
underneath a hat. I stared at her for a few moments, a little impressed with
her biceps.

            “Lost
an ear, only,” Diego replied. “He is good. They are having words.”

            “I
hate having to wait while words are
had
,” she complained. Yes, Chloe is
a Francis. “It’s freaking cold and I’m starving and this waiting around is
pissing me off. Hey, are you hit, too?”

            I
considered my answer. Said carefully, “No, I’m good.”

            “You
better be worth the effort and time, princess,” she said to me. “Or I’m going
to rearrange your face with my boot.”

            “Prison
sex will not earn you my affections,” I said grandly. “I’ve been beaten down by
bigger, prettier girls than you.”

            I
flinched when she kicked my in the leg with her boot, then watched her warily
as she went to bawl the Troys out for arguing. I rubbed my leg with one hand,
looking at Diego for help, but he was politely looking the other way.

            I
made my way down the stairs to get the rucksack that we’d abandoned at the
sidewalk. Diego helped me with it by throwing it on his own back. By the time
we’d gotten ourselves situated, Chuck and Harley had finally emerged from the
casino, both of them looking pissed while Chloe looked impressed.

            “That
was a close call. You heard me?” Chuck asked me, taking the steps down two at a
time, a lithe creature of the mountains and not at all a city-dweller
comfortable with concrete. I felt surrounded by predators taking a break from
their hunt.

            “I
don’t know,” I replied slowly, starting to feel exhausted.

            “She
has really good instincts,” Harley told him.

            “Not
good enough if your ear was shot off,” Chuck said, already on the street and
shouldering his rifle.

            “Still
better than having his
head
missing,” Diego lifted his voice to be heard
as both of them sniped at each other over being over-dramatic, not dramatic
enough. I almost wanted to laugh.

            “Are
you done, now?” Chuck then asked me, looking absolutely intense. “If your
business is done and over with, tell me now.”

            “Uh,
yes, it is,” I said. “My entire
irrational
reason for coming into Reno
to find the only people important in my life has been finished with finding
them dead. Now that I am assured of being completely alone and family-less, you
can have your son back.”

            Chuck
did look remorseful, but it wasn’t good enough for me.

            After
that, I ignored him, looking at the bloodied material Harley had pressed
against his ear. I was definitely going to puke, and he winced.

            “Don’t,
please. I feel queasy enough,” he said.

            “Good
shot you took back there,” I said.

            “You
-!
Left
me with no choice! I was going to say, let them run around blind
in the casino, but no, you – made me do all that!”

            I
thought about it, then said, “Oh yeah! That would’ve been a better idea.”

            “Jesus,
Ed - !”

            “Well,
on that note…might as well as strip those dead guys of their wares. They looked
all equipped with useful things. Bullet proof armor, ammo…” I trailed off as
Diego and Chuck charged off in that direction, engaged in some other language
spat that looked vicious. I changed my mind about doing the stripping as they
immediately set to it themselves. Whatever they were having words about, I
definitely wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

            Harley
gave them a weary look, then looked at me with an indecisive expression. He
then reached for me, fingers outstretched, and I took his hand with a relieved
smile, because I’m glad he still thought I was beautiful with someone’s brains
all over me. It sure was hard pulling off attractiveness when one had gore
drying on their clothes.

Epilogue

            After
all that, it was difficult. I struggled. My mind had been so set on finding my
parents – alive – that their deaths had thrown me off course. I
didn't know what to do. My goal was gone. Harley had said find other maps to
explore, but I could not even imagine what else could be out there.

            There
were more creatures loose on the streets – Mendive was a loss. Chuck told
Harley that they had a small group of survivors hiding in the old Target
building on Prater, and that they were planning on moving out from the city for
some place called Sierra Heights. Somewhere in California.

            I
was extremely nervous about the thought of leaving Reno. This was my
home
.
This was where I'd grown up. I'd watched classmates transition from popular
clique leaders to mall saleswomen with children, discussed the rising homicide
rates with my dad, celebrated Fourth of July in the Santa Rancho park. Now it
was just…abandoned ruins. There was nothing promising within them.

            Trying
to keep up with the pack was only a distraction – I swear, all of them
were uber athletes of some kind, because their pace was brutal. Every time I
started to whine about not being able to keep up, Chloe would step on the backs
of my heels. She pushed and pulled on me like I was a rag doll – she
slapped my ass and called me princess and
motivated
me to keep moving.
Eventually, she just ended up throwing me on her back and carrying me, grumbling
about it the entire time.

            I
hope Sandy didn't think I was cheating on her – I seriously felt like I
couldn't move any further, or faster, anymore. I think after everything that
had happened, my non-athletic body was giving out. I was seriously starving, my
stomach eating at itself, but there was nothing I could do about it. The more
depressing thoughts that came to mind about the situation, the less inclined I
felt about continuing on.

            Once
we reached the Target building, night had fallen. Diego ushered us through a
side entrance door, and a soldier greeted us with a low whisper. Chloe
continued carrying me, moving easily through the darkness in some narrow hall
until we emerged out into the open of the abandoned building. A small group of
people were huddled together, wrapped in blankets. The area was freezing, but a
fire had been discouraged. Flashlights were shifted around as people opened
their ranks to allow us in between them.

            Once
I took my place next to Sandy, Chloe dumping me like a sack of potatoes, I
unleashed these pent up tears I didn't even know I was saving. Once she had me
nestled against her firm, huge chest, I sobbed heavily, crying about what I'd
found. I didn't even have control of myself. It was sort of embarrassing
because it was in front of all these people I didn't even know, and it felt
selfish because I'd abandoned them all for my parents – it
felt
wrong. Nobody was supposed to have sympathy for the villain, but, damn, I just
didn't care anymore. I was just extremely grateful that Sandy held me firmly
and said all the right things I needed to hear, and that was all that could be
done.

            After
awhile, I couldn't cry anymore. I felt like a useless sack of weight and my
mind was too foggy to think. I pulled away from Sandy, snatched a comforter
from the pile, and wandered off into the darkness, much to their startled
noises and expressions. I curled up against the wall with my back turned
towards them, rolled up the blanket around me, and went to sleep.

            I
dreamt about being back home.

            This
stupid invasion hadn't happened, and I was waking up in my own bed. The house
was quiet, but my window was open. I could hear the city outside as it was
– noisy, busy, brilliant with life. Planes roared as they came and left
– there were sirens in the distance. My neighbors were talking loudly in
their yard about weather converters – but I swear one of them sounded
like Leon Kennedy, and the other sounded like goddamned Jill Valentine. I could
smell mom's cooking. The television was on downstairs – it was a
newscast, a reporter speaking gibberish in serious tones.

            Groggily,
I lifted my head from my pillow and looked around my room. Everything felt like
such a bad dream, but I knew, in the back of my mind, that that wasn't it.
Everything in my room was where I'd left it – the dress on the floor, the
mess I made coming into my room from the window.

            It
felt so
real
. I had to question myself in why my mind would lie to me.

            I
pushed away from the bed, wearing the same outfit I'd worn to work that night.
My hair was a jumbled mess, piled high atop of my head in the sleep pony I wore
for bed. As I took it down, I left my room.

            Family
pictures lined the stairway down to the first floor – the lights were on
in the kitchen, in the living room, and I heard the flutter of a newspaper, the
harsh clearing of my dad's throat. Mom was cooking something that fried
deliciously in the wok she used over the stove. I could hear her humming a bad
Katy Perry song. As I walked downstairs, the living room was open to me –
the television was on, tuned to CNN and showing comical drawings of UFOs. There
was a newspaper on the couch, and I grew puzzled at the lack of my dad's
presence.

            I
looked into the kitchen, and despite the sounds and smells of earlier, mom wasn't
in there cooking. The stovetop was empty, the kitchen dark – the only
light emerged from the windows over the sink, where the curtains had been drawn
to allow the day in. I whirled around and looked at the living room, and the tv
was off – it was dark in there, too. Suddenly, everything was coated with
frost and dirt, and it was cold.

            It
was so
unfair
.

            The
smell of their dead bodies hit me before I could even do anything, and I woke
up with a harsh sob. Being brought back to the immense darkness of the
abandoned building, I immediately shushed myself. Sitting up, I wiped my eyes,
wanting to continue bawling because the dream had been so fucking
harsh
.
Everything had felt so real – I
wanted
to see my parents again.
I
wanted to be home
. But that dream just reminded me that that place wasn't
my home anymore – not without them.

            I
pushed my blanket away, immediately freezing because it was so cold. It was
incredibly disorienting in the darkness - I couldn't walk away without
assistance. There were people posted in all four corners of the building with
flashlights – too far away for me to talk to them. The others were all
curled up in their circle, some talking softly to each other while a single
candle burned within the center of their position.

            I
snatched up my blanket and staggered over in that direction, sniffling and
wiping my eyes.

            Without
saying or doing anything else, I found Harley sleeping near the edge of circle,
his father and Diego just feet away from him, and Emmy and Alex nearby. I forced
my way into his section, using a foot to push Chuck away to do so. I thought
Chuck was going to kill me with the way he reached for his gun, but Diego
slapped him once he saw that it was me. I ignored the angry huff Chuck made as
I crawled in next to Harley and made him hold me so I could go back to sleep.

            Things
felt a little better when he hugged me – even after everything that had
happened, he didn't even smell bad. I went back to sleep without thinking
anything else.