Hundreds of people were walking by on the same road she and Danny had traveled yesterday, their chattering mumbles unintelligible from this distance. Most were carrying backpacks or rolling a piece of luggage or doing both. They were a motley group of travelers, leisurely walking as if they were early in catching a plane or a train. Their casual gait and friendly banter made them seem oblivious to the apocalypse that had befallen everyone else. Yet, their steps were also purposefuclass="underline" they knew where they were going, or who they were following. Most importantly, none of them seemed threatening or threatened.
Darla grinned and stretched her limbs, tight from the stress, sore from miles of travel and dehydration. Her decision was quick. Safety in numbers.
“Wake up Danny, it’s time to go,” she whispered softly into his ear.
His eyes popped open. “Are we home?”
“Sorry kiddo, we’re still at that abandoned house—”
He sat straight up, eyes wide. “Where are the bad men?”
Still looking at him, she touched his hair tenderly. “The bad men are gone and we’re fine…” She waited until he was calm again. Then she turned to slip on her shorts and grabbed her backpack from under the bed. “Get dressed; we need to leave right now.” She still spoke soothingly.
“Where are we going?”
“I think somewhere safe.”
He still didn’t move.
“Come on, get dressed!” He knew better than to disobey when he heard that tone.
They were at the back of a horde numbering perhaps a thousand people, all traveling west, away from where Darla had intended to go. She had wanted to move east back to Mamie and Poppy’s house, but several of the group had told the same tale, which felt true. A giant wall of flames had burned much of Chicago, then swept south through Northern Indiana, making the whole Indiana-Illinois border impassible. Others told of large parts of Michigan on fire. When she asked specifically if any had seen Michigan, none had, but many had heard this from others and all had seen Chicago’s fire and smoke. All were sure that getting to Michigan would be a fool’s errand and probably impossible.
Okay, now what? She couldn’t just leave her grandmother and grandfather. What if they needed her and Danny’s help? But what really pressed at her was the concern that as each day burned away under the intense sun, she and Danny were going to have more and more problems finding food and water. She didn’t just feel this; she knew it.
She also felt like she was being drawn west. She couldn’t explain this, either. Maybe it was Steve and his father, who hopefully made it to Denver when the power went out; she reflexively touched her silver dollar necklace. Of course, even if he was there with his father, how would she find him? She couldn’t even contemplate that something more serious would have happened to him. Going west also brought them closer to the rest of their family. If they made it to Colorado, they could certainly make it to Arizona. And if they made it to Arizona, they could make it to Mexico.
“Are you going to follow the Teacher to the Promised Land?” asked an overly enthusiastic middle-aged man, with soft features and a belly created from many years of playing armchair quarterback over Sunday football. He had dropped back to where Darla and Danny were in the throng of people covering the road, like ants covering a picnic blanket of food.
“Who is the Teacher and where is this Promised Land?” she asked, not wanting to sound foolish, but needing as much information as she could get.
“Oh, you must have just joined us.” His voice rose, more animated than before, and he beckoned to her. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you to one of his staff. Don’t worry, they won’t bite. Look, they have lots of food and water. In fact we all do. The Teacher—he’s our leader—just asks that you contribute your talents to the group as we head west.” Soft Man finished his sales pitch and then was quiet, waiting for her response.
Darla checked off each of the boxes on her mental checklist: food, water, safety with a large group, and they were going west. She wasn’t into joining, but for Danny, she was willing. “Do you have any asthma medicine among your group? My brother has asthma, and we’re out.”
“I’m sure we do. We have practically everything you need. I’m Carl, by the way.” He held his hand out.
“Darla,” she said as she accepted his mitt, wet with perspiration, and returned his shake vigorously. “This is my brother, Danny.”
“Hey Danny,” Carl said in a comforting tone.
“Hey,” came the disinterested reply.
Darla, on the other hand, became more interested with every step.
18.
The Eunuch
Best she could figure, two days ago she’d been drugged and knocked unconscious. She had been beaten several times and raped once; she fought off two other rape attempts, nearly castrating one of the men with her teeth. This had resulted in the most recent beating from which she was just waking. In her mind, she made each interaction an exercise, learning something more about each of her captors so that she could gain the advantage. Logic and reasoning were her strengths, and for now, she had no place for emotions. The tally was pretty simple: all but one lacked any brains or balls, and all had egos the size of a John Deere combine. Cowboy Hat never touched her. She had only seen him once since their first conversation. She guessed he had brains enough for all his idiot sons. She was still puzzled at what they wanted with her or why they kept her alive. She knew she had just about outlived her usefulness as some sex toy for these men who were not likely to catch the eye of any woman by any other means except through force.
Every conscious moment was applied to finding the quickest route to her freedom, and with some luck, killing these men. She knew no one was going to save her. She was completely on her own. There were no police, not even the rule of law anymore; each person became their own law, judge, and jury. She had found these men guilty and planned to exact justice by any means she could find.
Her plan was easy but not simple. Cowboy Hat had the keys to her chains. She needed to kill CH, take his keys and weapon, then kill the other two and leave. Of course, they all had guns and she didn’t; that’s what made this difficult. Her best weapon was surprise. She had to act quickly, without them knowing she had taken the advantage from them. Another difficulty was their moving her from the kitchen to this dark and musty cellar, where there was no light except when a propane lantern was brought down for her next feeding, beating, or raping. For her plan to succeed, she had to lure CH to her. She was pretty sure that he had no interest in her, so she was working on a way to use Butch, whom she expected back any time now.
The cellar door creaked open and light from a lantern cut through her darkness. She could see Butch’s feet, recognizing his obese ankles and unlaced boots immediately. Butch had tried to touch her only once, but she’d popped him in the nose, probably breaking it. He was easily the dumber of the two sons, but also the less testosterone-filled, so he was manageable. She pushed back her emotions, hiding them in her darkest recesses, and forced a smile to her puffy face.
“Sleeping Beauty, it’s dinner time,” Butch called down the cellar. Each of his heavy footfalls down the steps punctuated her resolve and purpose. Belying this, her smile became more sultry and helpless. When he was in full view, he stopped and she could see his expression was one of fear and confusion. His throbbing red and purple nose warned him to stay back. Yet, he could see her demeanor was different this time, calling him forward. With his lower lip and shoulders drooped and one of the straps of his grungy overalls unbuckled, he looked like a little boy—a three-hundred-pound little bearded boy. In another life, she might have felt sorry for this man. In another life.