I’ll tell you what: you ever want to see your ab muscles in the mirror? Try a little Apocalypse. Does wonders.
So, here’s this fifth guy who doesn’t look particularly impressive. He’s not really tall, not fat but also not rail thin—but still much thinner than he is now. He also had hair back then—brown, a little too long. It was almost a Beatle haircut. I’m sure it looked well-tended back in the day, but a lack of barbers or pressing need to maintain it made him look like he was fresh out of the ’70s. Don’t tell him I said that…
He was wearing jeans, some sort of thick and clunky hiking boots, and what was some kind of long sleeved over shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, despite the day’s growing heat. His hands were empty. Hugo held a rifle pointed not at the newcomer but just at the ground between them. They appeared to just be talking.
I cracked open the kitchen window and their voices suddenly clarified.
“…look like you have much to trade,” Hugo was just finishing.
“Well, I don’t have it with me, obviously. I don’t know what kind of people you are. I have my stuff stashed a ways off. I can tell you what I have. If any of it interests you, maybe you have some stuff that interests me, see?”
“Yeah, okay. Makes sense, I guess. So what do you have?”
“Have bullets…” offered the new guy.
“Hey, no shit? How much?”
“Enough to feed that rifle of yours. I’m light on food and water and could use whatever you’ll spare.”
This deflated Hugo visibly. “Oh, yeah. I don’t think I can give you any of that… not without the others here to say if it’s cool.”
“I understand.”
“Is there anything else you want?” Richard asked from overhead. “We got other stuff.”
“Honestly, not really. Food or water are really the only things I could use more of.”
“Fuck,” Hugo mumbled, looking down. Presently, his head snapped up. “Hey, I got something, maybe.” He walked to the left out of site. Almost as soon as he disappeared, his knock came on the motorhome door. “Hey, Amanda. Come out here a second.”
I had seen this coming. When it came to commodities, I had a resource that none of the other men could provide, assuming a condition of general heterosexuality. I took a deep breath and tried to figure out what I’d do if this new guy preferred children. I was going to kill him if he even so much as looked at Lizzy, or at least do my best to kill him. I was banking on the hope that the others wanted to keep me alive more than the newcomer and that they would save me if things went very bad. Pussy’s pussy, as they say.
“Elizabeth,” I whispered, “go into the bathroom and lock the door. Don’t make any sound.” She whimpered but got up from the table and did as I asked.
My hands were shaking as I stepped out the door.
“Eh??” Hugo said, returning to his position as I came out. The newcomer was very still now. He wasn’t resting his weight on one leg as he had been when I first saw him. He was poised. He looked very alert. I shuddered; he reminded me of some predator you see on nature shows just before it jumps out of the bushes to kill some poor, unsuspecting creature.
“Here’s something you don’t have, I’ll bet,” Hugo proudly stated.
“Hugo,” Richard said from behind and above us all, “I’m really not sure this is…”
“Chill, man. This is what’s called ‘taking initiative.’ I’m problem-solving, here, dude.”
“What is this?” Stranger asked. His voice was flat, and his face was unreadable, doing the best Terminator impression I’d ever seen.
“How much are those bullets worth to you, friend? How about some alone time with Amanda, here?”
The newcomer stared at me. I can’t remember for how long, but it felt uncomfortably long. His gaze did not rove over me. He stared straight into my face. Right into my eyes.
“Would that be alright with you, Amanda?” he asked.
I was surprised and didn’t know how to answer. “No” was the obvious choice but I was terrified of making anyone mad at this point. I didn’t want to say “yes” because, well, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I physically could not bring myself to ask to be raped. Finally, I said the only thing I could think of.
“Please…”
The newcomer nodded. He raised his right hand up next to his head; made a peace sign with his index and middle fingers.
“‘Two’? Two what, man?” Hugo asked.
At the instant Hugo spoke, I heard a gunshot from far away and the sound of Richard grunting and falling down from behind me. The gunshot and Richard’s grunt occurred simultaneously.
The newcomer had snaked his hand behind himself by this time. Hugo growled, “Buttfucker…” and pulled his rifle up. It had only been pointed at the ground, so he had it centered on the stranger’s chest well before the stranger had whatever it was he was going for at the ready.
Hugo’s rifle sputtered three or four times (I swear to God, it literally made a “pew, pew” sound—Billy later told me it was a .22 rimfire). I couldn’t tell if he hit the stranger or not; I thought I saw his shirt jump, but I couldn’t tell.
The stranger seemed to care about this not at all. He completed his draw, and he suddenly had a pistol in his hand pointed right at Hugo. He fired once, hitting Hugo in the head, but I heard two gunshots. I realized that whoever was shooting from far away must have put another round into Richard. Richard did not make any noise on either shot.
The new guy was up close to me by now. I hadn’t seen him coming. It was like he just appeared next to me.
“Are there only the four of them?” he asked.
I was speechless, unable to think of anything to say. I just nodded.
He pointed out in the direction that the lead camper was facing and said, “There’s a friend out in that direction about three hundred yards or so.” He waved wildly over his head with both arms and then pointed in that direction again, indicating with his eyes that I should look. Way out in the distance, I could just make out the shape of a man waving back at us with one hand.
“You need to run out there to meet him.”
At this moment, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know if we were being saved or if there was just someone stronger and even more evil assuming ownership of Lizzy and me. The only thing I did know was that I couldn’t let myself be separated from her. “My daughter! Please!” I said, gesturing at the motorhome.
The change these words brought was subtle and immediate. The expression on his face (or his face’s state of expressionlessness, rather) never changed, but his back stiffened noticeably. “Get her. Can she run?”
“Yes.”
“Then get her and hurry. The others will have heard.”
This got me moving. I ripped open the door and tore down the length of the vehicle to the bathroom and slapped on the door with both hands.
“Elizabeth!” I said, frantic. “Come out of there, right now!”
The door unlocked and swung out, revealing a shaking, tear-soaked little girl. I grabbed her hand and began to tug.
“What’s happening?” she asked as she came along.
“We have to run right now.”
As we came out of the motorhome, the stranger was outside hoisting Hugo off the ground with both hands, one under the belt and one at the collar of his shirt. He was holding Hugo like James had held Elizabeth when he threw her. I felt a black wave of rage wash over me. “Get going,” he said and jerked his head toward where his friend was, now concealed again, out in the Utah desert.