The Long Way To Reno (16 page)

            I
really didn’t know animals very well, so I didn’t really give it too much
attention. I figured that they were bothered by the coyotes, and I sighed low,
turning to go back in side when I heard low human voices greeting Brandon. I
froze, straining my ears to locate where the sound came from, then hurried away
from the porch. Adrenaline was already coursing through me, figuring that we
were about to engage into another encounter with the soldiers when I caught
sight of three guys standing around the dog, petting the traitor with amicable
hands and looking cold. I didn’t recognize them, but if I had hackles, they
were up pretty high.

            I
ran back into the house, shut and locked the door, and then hurried off to the
room where Harley was sleeping. I roused him with a slam of his door and a hiss
that people were here, and as he scrambled off the bed, he hit the floor in an
awkward flop of limbs. I went in to wake Emmy, hearing the sounds of the front
door being tried.

            Hearing
Harley arm himself, I encouraged her to hide in the closet – to escape
out the window once the alarm was raised. As she pulled on her jacket and other
accompanying things – a Jansport backpack was already filled with things
she’d found earlier, to Harley’s encouragement - I looked over at Harley. Those
people wanted to get into the house, and were doing what they could to open
that door.

            “I’ll
meet them first,” he then said, looking harassed. “They’re not the soldiers?”

            “No.
Civilians.”

            “Brandon
didn’t even try to protect us?” Emmy complained low, as I unlocked the window.

            “Maybe
they just need shelter for the night,” Harley whispered, probably more to
himself as he ventured towards the front. He then stopped as I followed, aiming
to find my Fubar. “No. Stay there. Stay out of sight, stay with Emmy. Just in
case.”

            I
frowned at the possibilities, but nodded. Instead of going to Emmy, though, I
lingered in the hall to watch him go to the front door. Amidst all the banging,
the sounds of a window being tried near the fireplace, Harley hollered out a
greeting. The banging stopped, and a startled greeting was given in return.

            Emmy
hissed at me from the bedroom, and I waved at her to shut up, waiting for
something to happen. I didn’t feel any terrible need to take off running, just
this drumming anxiety in what was going to happen next. I was wary of other
travelers, but at the same time, had accepted that we weren’t the only
survivors just trying to get through another night.

            Harley
opened the door, and a quiet male voice asked if we had enough room to let them
stay. They’d been traveling on I-80 by foot since Fernley, where they had to
abandon their car. They’d left the freeway because they’d seen some soldiers
gunning down other survivors – Harley felt something for their plight,
because he let them in. They were grateful for it, coming in with breath on
their hands and anxious thank-yous while the place was given a sweeping
examination of weary eyes.

            I
swallowed hard, eyeing them, hoping they weren’t deranged like Jeff and his
crew, and hoping they weren’t the bad sort of travelers that survived by ‘doing
what they had to do’. Anxiety made my breath heavy, and before they could spot
me, I made my way back to Emmy.

“Three
of them,” I said. “Came from the freeway, where those guys were killing more
survivors.”

            Emmy
looked as anxious as I felt, but she nodded. “What should we do?”

            “Harley’s
talking to them.”

            “They’re
not all bad people, right?” Emmy then asked. “We’ve met other people that
weren’t bad.”

            “I
dunno,” I said in reply, hands over my stomach as anxiety continued to weigh on
me.

            She
grasped my arm. “Do you have any feelings on them? Like – like you did
back there?”

            “No…not
really,” I admitted.

            We
looked up as Harley came into the room, looking concerned. He stumbled around
until he found the candle we’d been using. Lit it clumsily with a lighter that
he kept in his inside jacket pocket. Once the flame grew, he set the candle on
the nearby vanity. “You guys all right? I let them in, to sleep and rest.
They’re trying to get to Reno, too.”

            “They
aren’t bad?” Emmy asked cautiously. “They don’t look scummy or anything?”

            “No…they
look like us. Tired and hungry.” He looked us over in the dim candlelight.
“Stay in here, then, both of you. It’ll be different when the sun’s up.”

            “Can
you get Brandon for me?” Emmy asked.

            “Sure.
Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be up.”     

“You
sure?” I asked low.

He
shrugged, shouldering his rifle over his shoulder.

“Don’t
show them how many guns you have,” I murmured.

“Right,
right. Go to sleep.”

After
a while, hearing the men’s voices as they related to Harley what they’d been
through, Emmy and I relaxed just enough to remove our coats, to lay on the bed
with our weapons resting nearby. We stared up at the ceiling and said nothing.
Eventually, Emmy fell back asleep, Brandon rolling onto his side to heave a
tired sigh.

I
stared up at the ceiling and hoped mom and dad hadn’t taken the freeway to come
get me.

Chapter Ten

The
three men were still sleeping – two in the boys’ room, one in the girls,
and they didn’t even budge as Emmy and I crept out of the room and made our way
to the kitchen later that morning. Harley looked bedraggled, but he accompanied
us to the pantry we’d found off to the side, near the garage. It was a very
small room – maybe five feet wide, five feet with six large, spacious
shelves – the cement floor had spilt rice, flour and other dusty material
on it. The ceiling looked also to be cement or some other hard substance, with
a single naked bulb working to allow visibility. It was stocked full of dry
goods.

A
few hours later, Emmy scooted over to us as we discussed routes into Reno from
various angles when one of the men emerged cautiously from the hall.

His
eyes were slightly wide as he looked at Emmy and I, and I found myself glaring
at him. “I thought you were by yourself, man,” he said to Harley. “Where’d they
come from?”

“Are
we not allowed?” I asked snidely.

“No,
just…” he exhaled heavily, sat slowly down on the couch. He was an older man,
with a head full of light brown fuzz. He was wearing nurse’s scrubs and a
trench coat, and when he shifted about, I caught sight of his holster. His
mustache was heavier than his stomach paunch – I figured him to be
Sheriff’s of some kind, maybe a firefighter. They all looked the same to me in
this area.

He
indicated with a hand back at the hall. “One of my traveling companions, he
came from…the prison out there. Just…he’s been there for a couple of years, for
stabbing a rival from an opposite gang – “

I
joined Emmy at glaring at Harley.

“
– but I’m just saying. He’s not a bad guy.”

“Not
a ‘bad guy’? You just said he was locked up!” Emmy pointed out.

“It’s
different when you’re trying to survive in this shit, girl. He hasn’t done
anything wrong, but try to survive.”

Largely
uncomfortable with the group, I asked, “So will you be staying long?”

He
shook his head. Shifted on the couch. “No. I’ve got a wife and kids out in Reno
that I need to get to. He’s got family. The other guy’s got a boyfriend. We
traveled together because we got through some shit. It doesn’t matter what our
past was. Just trying to get by.”

“There
are more soldiers in that area, in Lockwood,” Harley said. “They’re gathering
people.”

“They
were shooting people the other night! We don’t even know why…they were supposed
to protecting us, huh? Instead they’re shooting us. I figured we’d follow this
road and hit Hidden Valley.”

“We’ll
be going through Spanish Springs,” Harley said, which was news to me. “Through
those hills. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“There’s
no cover there. It’s open,” the man said, shaking his head. “You’d be better
off going the same way as us.”

“We
already decided our way,” I interrupted firmly. “That’s where we’re going.”

“All
right…but I’m just saying, there’s nothing but brush and rocks back there.
Especially after that fire a couple of years back.” He heaved a sigh, clapped
his hands atop of his knees. “I’m starving, folks. I haven’t eaten anything
since Fernley.”

“Go
ahead, have the kitchen,” Harley said, as I followed Emmy out of the kitchen.
“There’s a full pantry down that hall, there, too.”

“After
we eat, we’ll be on our way. The girls look skittish,” he said with a chuckle.
I noticed, after he passed Harley on his way down the hall, that he was at
least 50 pounds heavier than our guy, and at least four inches taller. Just
seeing that made my stomach cramp with anxiety again.

:
:

“Where
is Spanish Springs from here?” Emmy asked. She was seated atop a fence, where
we were watching the horses run and play with each other between feedings. The
area was so quiet and still that our activity seemed so freaking loud. I was
extremely paranoid that something or somebody could hear us, but I don’t think
there was a way to make the horses play quietly.

Harley
had made sure, during the time the guys were sleeping, that we had all the
weapons we needed to have an advantage. Emmy had taken all sharp and pointy
things and hidden them somewhere without telling us – I’d discovered this
when I was looking for something to cut my apple with.

“Spanish
Springs is in that direction,” I said to Emmy, pointing.

Harley
redirected my arm, while Brandon barked and pranced around a tree, where he’d
trapped an animal of sorts. “That’s north. This is west. It’s east of Sparks.”

“I
can’t tell guy direction,” I muttered, trying to place directions by the use of
the freeways. 395 North went that way, and 395 South was that way, and I-80 to
Reno was West, and we were on the East side of I-80…

“It’s…pretty
sparse,” he then added, frowning.

“Are
we really going that way?” I asked low. “It makes sense going in from this
direction.”

“But
we don’t want to go the same way as they are,” he reminded me.

“There
are vehicles here. Let them have one so they can get there faster,” I suggested.

“Why
don’t
we
use one?”

“Because
the aliens will
see
us. Harley.”

“All
right,
Edith
,” he said with heavy exasperation.

Emmy
whipped around to stare at me, saying, “Is that your
name
-?”

Seeing
that she cut herself off to look beyond us, both of us alerted to the front
door opening and shutting, Harley and I turned and saw another guy walking out,
making an exaggerated show of enjoying the sunlight. He was a short guy with
short hair, a shadow of a beard along his jawline, and clothes that were pretty
indicative of the Lovelock Correctional Facility. Emmy and I stared at him,
then looked at Harley.

“Hey,”
the guy greeted us, looking tired and wary. “What’s up? What you guys lookin’
at?”

“Just
figuring our way out,” Harley answered, as Emmy joined us, standing behind us
while she fiddled with her hair and gave the guy a wary stare.