The Long Way To Reno (18 page)

“We’ll
be good on our own,” he then said slowly, looking pained as he did so. I felt
satisfied, an expression of relief on my face.

“No,
no,
no
- ! What if we don’t find other people to help us?” Nate cried.
“We need you guys to help us, too!”

“Groups
are okay, but we’ve did good so far, so if they wanna go off and do their own
thing, man, that’s on them,” Alex said, and I turned to look at Emmy when she
made this funny face, looking beyond me.

I
was shoved completely off my feet and slammed hard into the wall, shouts
erupting. My head bounced off that, and my leg was kicked in, so that I hit the
floor on my knees. Disoriented by the attack from behind, by what was
happening, I didn’t get that it was Tom that had attacked until I heard him
shout, “Nobody move!
Nobody
! Or I’ll shoot this Asian bitch dead, I
swear on it. You want to see that? Huh? Make another move!”

My
stupid hair obscured my face, and when I opened my eyes, I was looking at the
dirty, ugly linoleum floor. Emmy was crying – but then I think it was
Nate, too. Tom had the back of my neck gripped hard, and I started to scratch
at it when I felt this hard, round thing press against the back of my head. To
have a gun pointed at me like that only shocked me – I really wasn’t
expecting this sort of thing to happen, and couldn’t even think of what to do
but to freeze, straining my ears to hear what was happening.

A
lot of heavy breathing, stunned silence – Brandon’s claws tapped the
floor as he shifted, but even after that was nothing. Tom’s fingers tightened,
and I grunted some sound of pain.

“Jesus,
really
? Tom?” Alex croaked, sounding more like a scared teenager than a
criminal serving time for stabbing somebody to death. On a hysterical note, he
and Emmy would make great friends with that shared habit of theirs.

Tom
shifted his weight – he was pressing down on me, and it made my neck
strain. I tried to support myself with my hands on the floor, and he just
shoved harder, so that now my head was at this severely awkward angle. I tried
to stay very still, scared to do even that because I couldn’t see what was
happening around me.

“We’re
doing this as a group,” he repeated quietly. “We’d agreed on it, and –
well, it’s smarter this way. I really don’t think this one should have that
much control over us. Females get hysterical, and need us men to be logical.”

“Fucking
bullshit - !” I snarled, then whimpered with the added weight and feel of the
gun jabbing against my head. I thought of my parents, wondering with some
hysteria if they were waiting for me.

“We
can’t all be hysterical – “ Nate squeaked.

“Let
up on her, Tom. You’re hurting her,” I heard Harley say tightly.

Tom
was silent for a few moments, then I felt him shift – but not to let up
on my neck. He had the gun off my head. “All of you. Weapons forward. I want
them all right here.”

Breathing
hard, I felt apprehension hit me – I had only seen Harley with his rifle,
and Emmy with her knife – I don’t know if the others had any of their
own. I only hoped Harley had hid whatever else he had when I’d told him to.

“Why?”
Alex asked.

“As
a group, we should have a count. Of what we have. Relax. I just – she was
getting out of control,” Tom said calmly, and I felt my hysteria rising at his
words. “I don’t want us to split up. I feel that it is safer for us to
cooperate. Look at you, man. Honestly. I can’t see you taking care of these
girls all by yourself. You’re just one man. Now there is four of us – we
can help each other, protect them when possible.”

“He’s
right,” Nate murmured, and I hoped that Harley wasn’t believing this bullshit.

“Now…to
prevent any other – accidents, or mishaps, or…or anything…please. All
weapons forward.”

I
felt my chest constrict at the sounds of movement, of a rifle chamber being
emptied. Heard the sound of hesitant movement forward, and, even though I
couldn’t see, I could feel the vibration of things being set onto the floor. I
was really hoping Harley hadn’t shown the others his handgun he’d found the
night before.

“Good,
good. We’ve got a good supply,” Tom then said, when everyone stopped moving.
“Didn’t know…didn’t know you had that one, Alex.”

“Picked
it up on the way here, homes. Get that gun off her head, man, c’mon.”

“Not
until everyone’s settled, calm.”

My
fingers curled into fists, and I heard someone swallow hard. Brandon was growling
every so slightly, so I felt a little better about Emmy being in his company.
Tom shifted in response, and Brandon growled even louder.

Before
I knew it, Emmy was shrieking hysterically, and the guys were yelling again.
Tom moved, this time pulling me to my feet. In that moment, I saw that Emmy was
trying to hide Brandon from Tom, using her body to protect the dog while the
dog snarled and barked. Tom had been aiming the gun at him, but he pulled me
aside, away from them while Harley took a few steps forward in response. Like
he was going to do something when Tom pressed the gun against my head again and
everyone but the dog stilled and went quiet.

He
wrapped an arm around my chest and practically dragged me along with him. Our
height differences didn’t work for him, as he had to lean down to do so. I
hated the feel of being held that way, his forearm over my chest, and had my
hands on his arm in an effort to somehow keep him from touching me. A useless
effort, considering the situation.

For
a few, tense minutes, he used his feet to lightly kick the weapons pile towards
him. Harley’s rifle, Emmy’s knife, another hunting knife, a submachine gun that
made me do a double take at Alex. I had no idea where he’d had that hidden, or
even where he got that. All of them looked scared, pale, and absolutely
defenseless. It was like looking at a bunch of scared little kids. No hero in
sight.

Somehow,
he managed to gather everything with the gun pressed to my head, so I couldn’t
do anything to escape. Shouldered the rifle, jabbed the knives into his jacket
pocket, stuffed the SMG into the waistband of his pants. Then he was back with
an arm around me, dragging me once more.

“Everyone,
calm down. I won’t shoot the dog – or the animal,” he indicated Brandon
with a wave of his gun, and I frowned. “Let’s just…cooperate. Let’s all
cooperate and work together. I’m sure we can come up with a better solution, a
better situation if this one is…is just out of the way.”

“Don’t
hurt her - !” Emmy whimpered, holding tightly onto Brandon while I felt
helpless as he started pulling me backward. We were in the kitchen, now, and I
couldn’t think of what to do or say with that gun being waved about.

Finally
he stopped, then fumbled with one hand for a light switch. Without much of an
explanation, he shoved me into the pantry room, and slammed the door behind me.
I barely caught myself from slamming into the shelves, hearing a lock fall into
place. His voice was muffled, so I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I
straightened, and went flying at the door, trying the handle. It wouldn’t
budge, and the thing was heavier than the front door. I banged on it with a
fist and some screechy curses, then resorted to kicking at it.

Once
I realized it wasn’t going to budge, I slapped my hair from my face, trying to
catch my breath. I looked around myself – at the half-empty shelves, the
single bulb above, the cement floor – no way out but the way I’d come in.

I
heard more muffled shouts, Emmy’s high pitched screams and several gunshots.
More screams and shouts, and horror made me still. I had no idea what was going
on out there, but the repeated thumps, the heavy shake of the wall with the
light switch told me something was happening.

With
all the weaponry Tom had on him, he had more than enough to kill the guys,
Brandon. Emmy wasn’t enough to fight him off, and my mind conjured up
situations that I had never imagined before. I pounded on the door again,
screaming hoarsely for the two that I knew, hearing more gunshots –
further into the house, further away from me.

I
pressed against the door, straining to hear something. Hoping to hear familiar
voices, and to have the door unlocked. But minutes passed. Many of them. And I
heard nothing. I started to shake, calling out names other than Tom’s, hoping
to hear somebody answer back. But it was silent.

My
hands shook violently, and emotion rose up in me. I began banging on the door
once more, screaming Emmy’s name. I needed to hear from her, to know that she
was okay. When using my fists wasn’t enough, I turned, searching for something
to use against the door. There was nothing but huge cans of tomato sauce,
applesauce, useless things -! I grabbed a can and bashed it against the handle
repeatedly, thinking I could break the thing somehow.

When
that didn’t work, I tossed it aside, then looked at the hinges. Of course, they
were outside the room. I hollered myself hoarse for somebody to answer me, and
heard nothing in response.

When
I realized I wasn’t going to hear anything, or that nobody was coming to the
pantry door to let me out, I felt crushing defeat overwhelm me. There was
nothing I could do to escape, and I had no way of knowing what was happening
out there. I sank against the door and started to cry – hoarse, raspy
cries.

I
was never going to make it to Reno.

Chapter Eleven

            Hours
later, I heard the door lock shift loudly, and I looked up to see Harley open
the door wide, looking winded. I had just resigned myself to rotting away in
the pantry for the rest of my life, so I was excited and happy that he was
there. I squealed and jumped on him with a tight hug, searching over his
shoulder for Emmy. I then wrinkled my nose at the smells that hit me.

            He
hastily pushed me away, catching his breath. He had a spotlight in one hand,
and some snow on his shoulders. He also smelled heavily of smoke, oil and body
odor, and while all three were offensive, what was bewildering was the first
two's presence. I decided not to judge just yet, because I was rescued.

            "Everyone
okay?" I asked tentatively. "I was so scared about – "

            "We're
fine. Did he hurt you?" he asked, shining the light on my face and
blinding me.

            "I'm
good. Let's go. Does Emmy have the keys?"

            "Yes.
We're taking the road back to Lockwood, and from there, we can get into
Sparks," he said, his tone full of relief as he lowered the spotlight and
began leading the way out of the house. "We had to turn around –
sorry it took so long."

            "You
are forgiven," I said cheerfully, following him out the backdoor. The truck
that had been sitting near the barn was rumbling, and Nate, Alex, and Emmy were
crammed in the front seat. I was apprehensive about sitting in some guy's lap,
looking up at the sky and watching snow fall gently. Then I looked back at him,
noticing the care he was taking on his left leg. "Why are you
limping?"

            "I'm
just…really tired, okay?" he said with a heavy exhale, gesturing at me to
get in while he took off his pack and tossed it into the back, near the cab.

            Emmy
squealed a happy greeting, scooting over Nate's lap to Alex. While some
blushing and awkward mumblings occurred, I looked back at Harley with a frown.

            "If
you slow us down because you're all busted up, I'm going to be hella pissed,
Harley," I threatened. "I didn't come all this way to die just because
you're hurt."

            "Your
concern is absolutely thrilling to hear, Edith," he said with a roll of
his eyes and another gesture at the truck. I looked suspiciously at his leg
once more – maybe he sprained something, because I wasn't sure where he
wasn't bending it. There were no blood marks, nothing torn…

            "
Damn
,
I've been relying on you this entire time, so don't fuck it up, now," I
said, climbing in. "I need to get to Reno, it's right
there
!"

            "You
are such a - !"

            "I
swear, I will slap you if you call me a 'bitch'," I threatened, cramming
myself against Nate while he scooted as uncomfortably close as possible to
Alex.

            "Who
freaking
– how do you
exist
in your own selfishness?"
Harley exclaimed, climbing in and causing a series of grunts and mutters as we
all crammed tightly together in the seat. I noticed him wincing and cradling
his knee once he banged it off the door. "Seriously, is this how you've
– ?"

            "Get
over yourself! You have just not been in the presence of someone like me, so you
don't know how to – "

            "I
never thought that you would
even
- !"

            "Oh
my God, both of you,
shut up
!" Emmy exclaimed over both of us, as
Harley shuffled around with a tight expletive and a grunt, and I had to adjust
my ass over his thigh and allow him room to touch the stick shift. "Quit
fighting all the time! Let's just get to Reno, okay? Can we get there without
you two fighting?"

            "I
just think that you should give him a little respect," Alex interrupted,
looking at me from over Nate. "He didn't have to come back here after you.
Not after all that."

            "I'm
not impressed," I said huffily. "Whatever he had to do – if
we'd left earlier like I said, it would've never happened the way it did."

            "Can
you just be grateful for what
did
happen?" Harley asked between
gritted teeth, the truck jerking backward as he reversed.

            "All
I said, all I
asked
, was if he were hurt," I exclaimed before the
others could talk. "Because if he's hurt – because he's limping like
a gimp on tequila - !"

            "You
are really – you have to consider what he did to come back!" Nate
exclaimed in this shrilly voice. He had makeup smeared around his eyes, and
this was distracting.

            "It
doesn't matter! I already regret it!" Harley snapped, our heads jerking as
we began moving forward.

            "You
would! Because it's your fault in the first place," I muttered, crossing
my arms tightly and glaring out the windshield.

            "You're
so mean to him!" Emmy exclaimed, reaching out to jerk on my hair.

            "
Ow
!"

            "Stop
that, Emmy! She might give you something nasty, considering what she does to
stay ahead," Harley muttered. It took me a few moments to realize he was
talking about Benson.

            "You're
such
an asshole! You think I did something with him!" I exclaimed,
glaring at him. "How is that even relevant right now?"

            "I
didn't say anything, I just - !"

            "This
is why I won't even consider
anything
with you!"

            "You're
an insecure
child
that can't even rescue herself! So then you bite the
hand that feeds you!"

            "I
hate Nine Inch Nails!"

            "What
- ? What does that even - ? I don't – you can't even give a valid
argument to anything! You just blurt out whatever's on - !"

            "All
of you,
stop
!" Alex shouted, making us wince.

            Both
of us glared out the windshield. I tried to lean on Nate to avoid touching
Harley, but this was impossible. So I elbowed Harley to get comfortable, and he
clutched the steering wheel tightly with both hands, glaring at me. Nate
whistled low, straining away while Emmy glared at me.

            I
did
feel bad, actually. I felt bad because I was tired, hungry, I went
through this entire scare where I could've been rotting away in a small room
without rescue – my emotions and state were frazzled. I couldn't think
normally. So I reacted the way I did because…Harley was right. I
am
an
insecure child. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I relied on others
because…that was how I got through life.

            I
wanted to cry because I felt so bad. But I glared out the windshield and
battled the urge. My eyes watered and my chin trembled. I was determined not to
cry. I knew I wouldn't stop once I let it loose. I blinked heavily and tried to
think of gross things. Like the nurse getting crushed by that truck. People at
the warehouse getting eaten. Stuff like that.

            All
of us were quiet on the drive back towards Lockwood, and as we approached the
small valley with its trailers, I noticed a car fire ahead. It was an ugly
Buick that burned, sending a pillar of black smoke to the snow above. Since no
one seemed concerned about it, I tried not to give it another thought, judging
the others' reactions to it from a sideways glance. Emmy looked wistful, Alex
gave a nod, and Nate stared straight ahead. I wanted to ask what that was all
about, but I figured this was what held them up earlier. I wondered if Tom was
in there, and I really hoped that he was. From the way Harley smelled, it was
probably him that burned the asshole.

            I
looked at him from the corner of my eye, trying to picture this scrawny dork
setting a man on fire for the safety of the others. All I saw was a tired dude
with ashes on his temple and a bump on his bottom lip – it couldn't be
herpes because it looked more like a cut.

            Admittedly,
I did wonder what he did to get back to the house. But my selfish pride refused
to ask. I focused instead on what we were driving up to.

            We
approached Lockwood cautiously. The soldiers were probably still in the area. I
began nibbling at my fingernails because I wasn't sure what to think, looking
through the darkness with trouble, unsure of what to look for. All of us were
very tense, unable to move as everything was given a worried examination.

            "You
think they're gone?" I had to ask, my voice absurdly loud within the tense
silence.

            "They
should be," Harley answered automatically, then looked pissed because he
looked as if he'd forgotten he was mad at me.

            "When
they were hittin' on us on the freeway, there wasn't too many of them,"
Alex said, his young voice reminding us of his age. "They was all wearing
black, and riding ATVs. Like they came over the hill, from Spanish
Springs."

            "They
weren't planning on staying here," Harley mentioned. "They were
heading into Reno, for the camps. I'm hoping they're gone."

            "Guess
we'll find out soon, huh?" I murmured, cringing at the thought of being an
open target.

            Harley
maneuvered the truck slowly through one of the main roads. I stared at the dark
trailers around us suspiciously, looking for some kind of movement. But as we
reached the road near the Sheriff's office, we saw only the pile of blackened
rubble that I assumed were the other survivors. I felt awful staring at that
– I could see the faces of the other people in the trailer, grateful for
a bed, for food, for warmth – now they were dead, because the people paid
to protect them killed them.

            I
swallowed tightly. I wondered if Benson and Sandy regretted what they had to
do. Could they just not do something if they were told? In this life of new
lawlessness, did they have to follow orders? Couldn't they just run on their
own conscious?

            It
was such a shame. Benson should've slept with me.

            We
passed Lockwood, taking a dirt road below Horse Mountain. I stared off past
Emmy's head, looking at the destroyed freeway. Cars littered the slope uphill
and down, the river carrying heavy debris from the city. I strained my eyes,
hoping against hope that I would not see my parents' vehicles in the litter.

            Once
we started approaching Sparks, the city of Reno was visible to us. In this
darkness, without the brilliance of electricity, all I could see where the
multiple fires that ate up what was left to give. Smoke layered the snow clouds
above, eating at the darkness, displaying only flashes of the night sky. The
entire metropolis is cradled within a valley that held tightly onto its
pollution, that boasted an open air to the northeast, and a mountain range to
the south. Houses littered the base of the valley hills, and the freeways
bisected the center.

Sparks
and Reno are practically one huge mess from the air – separated by
invisible boundaries. The casinos downtown were missing – the Nugget
lacked its familiar tower, and the Grand Sierra Resort was a half-column of
broken windows, wilting steel beams. The Bowling Stadium, Silver Legacy,
Eldorado, Harrah’s – all of it was missing. It was as if someone had
stretched out from above, swiping their fingers through Reno and uprooting its
system from the sewers up. The freeways – I-80 and 395 – were a
tumbled mess of concrete, metal, and blackened, empty spaces. The Spaghetti
Bowl was no longer there – the Wells noise guard wall was also missing.
Where Legends had once stood, Scheels, Best Buy, Target - was a mess of lumpy
black. The ferris wheel that once sat in the center of Scheels was lying on I-
80 Eastbound, where the on-ramp from Sparks Boulevard used to be. The Marina
next to it was a floating mess – cars littered the man-made ‘pond’, and
the apartments that had once stood behind it were missing.