He’d give it another day or so and if the power didn’t come back on, he’d insist one or the other—or both—stay here until their mother returned.
If only he’d known how the woman of the house really felt about Jenny, and the danger she was in when Mama did return, he would have gone over and brought her home that day.
15
“IF I HAVE to watch you scratch your balls one more time…” Gabby threatened. It was sickening. The man—Larry—was sticking his hand directly down the front of his pants as though Gabby—or her sisters—weren’t in the car with him.
Disgusting pig.
He laughed and continued to scratch as they hit a congested spot, all leaned back with one hand slung over the steering wheel. They crept down the highway meandering around the cars and crowds of people, and feeling as though they were being suffocated by the waves of heat coming up off the road. More than a dozen people had tried to stop their car, stepping out to the point of almost getting hit.
So many people were desperate, and she felt almost guilty that her circumstances were better. Not guilty enough to get out and walk with them, but it hurt her heart to see this. And it terrified her. If they hadn’t run into Larry—regardless of what a jerk he was—they’d be walking too.
Gabby swallowed hard. It was making her sick. All of it. He was making her sick. Rude. Crude. No manners. Sweaty—and refusing to run the air because it might use too much gas—they were going stir crazy with him in the car. She could barely stand to look at him with his cul-de-sac of greasy hair fringing his shiny bald spot, cheap false teeth and sparkly gold chain.
He’d come on to each one of them in turn, especially Emma. He’d asked her to sit in the front before even starting the car. Gabby made sure she stepped up instead. She could handle assholes like this much better than Emma and Olivia; they were too nice.
She dug into her bag and came out with a container of Monkey Butt. It was powder that was used for chafing. She and her sisters—and their husbands—had used it for years, especially in the summer when they’d be exercising and sweating. She tossed it at Larry, who missed the catch, letting it roll down between his legs into the floor.
She grimaced. “You need to use that.”
“Get it.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at her.
She rolled her eyes and looked away.
They’d been on the road with him an excruciating two hours and had just barely made fifty miles. The back roads had been nearly completely blocked with broken-down cars out of gas. Getting around the stalled congestion from behind a bottleneck of other still-mobile cars had been like trying to thread a needle, especially with Larry driving and treating his sacred car as though it were made of glass. He’d finally detoured and hit the interstate instead and they’d made a bit of progress, although the situation was much the same. Miles of interstate was gridlocked. They were able to barely eat up miles by alternating between driving on the shoulder and weaving between stalled vehicles on the highway.
Hordes of people were walking in groups and many were alone along the highway. They walked on the road more times than not. Several had jumped out of his way just in time to avoid a bloody collision and Larry had hit the horn so much that Gabby was suffering with a near-blinding headache. At this point, it would probably be faster to walk, if only Olivia had some walking shoes.
A sign for a rest area came up and Gabby pointed it out, hoping Larry would take her up on her offer of sharing her Monkey Butt, and she and the girls could also find somewhere to relieve themselves. Assuming they’d be home soon, they’d all drank a bottle of water to re-hydrate. Gabby was also hoping for a hand-pump to fill their bottles up with before getting back on the road; she’d seen them at rest areas before.
Larry swerved into the parking lot amidst another wave of people.
The situation was even worse here.
The ladies looked around as Larry slowly drove through.
“This is creepy,” Emma said. “Looks like the walking dead.”
“Yeah, let’s just keep going,” Gabby answered.
Larry shrugged. “We’re here now. We won’t stay long.”
Refugees who had probably been on their way to or from the beach, just trying to eke out enough miles to get to the next exit for available gas were camped out in cars, tents, or tarps thrown over tree branches. Clothes hung from branches and trash littered the grounds. Hundreds of people were laying in the tents, under the tarps or just on the grass. Small campfires dotted the landscape. At a glance, anyone could see the people were tired, hungry, thirsty and downright dirty.
Gabby could feel desperation in the air. This wasn’t a happy crowd at all, but for the most part they looked like a harmless band of gypsies.
So far.
And there wasn’t a hand-pump for water in sight.
They slid into a parking spot beside an SUV that was obviously being used as housing. The back door was up for airflow, and blankets and pillows were haphazardly arranged inside. Two small children lay curled around each other in the back, asleep. Their mother and father were kicked back in the front seats, their legs tangled together on the dash, with all the windows down.
Larry climbed out the car, stretching and rubbing behind him, trying to bring blood back to his flat ass. He caught Gabby staring at him. “How’s it look?” He waggled at eyebrow at her.
She gave him a look of disgust. “Flat as a fritter from where I’m standing.”
He laughed it off and grabbed the talc from the floor. “Y’all stay with the car. I’ll be right back,” he said, adjusting his junk before he swaggered off.
“Take your time, not mine,” Gabby mumbled, marveling at his rudeness. What ever happened to ladies first?
She gazed around the make-shift campsites, suddenly noticing several men standing up, giving them the dirty eyeball. Two out of the largest group slowly made their way toward them.
“Emma, reach into my bag and get the gun,” she whispered. “If anyone tries to take the car, we need to be ready.”
Olivia was still sitting in the back seat looking at their highlighted route on the map that was paper-clipped to a picture of her and Gabby standing arm in arm in front of Jake’s truck, Ruby. She looked up in alarm. “Who’s going to try to take the car?” she asked loudly.
“Shhh!” Gabby flashed wide eyes at her and jerked her head toward the men.
Emma dug through and pulled out the gun, stepped up beside Gabby and discreetly slid it to her. “Here, you take it.”
Gabby pushed it into the waistband at the back of her pants and stared back at the men defiantly. “If they try to take it, you both know what to do.”
“Fight like a man,” Emma whispered.
Olivia stepped up beside her sisters, more out of curiosity than bravery.
The men approached to within hearing distance when Gabby yelled, “Stop right there.”
“Gabby! Don’t be rude,” Olivia admonished her. “Maybe they just want to talk.”
“Shut up, Olivia. This is not the time for strangers to just want to talk. We’ve got a working car. They don’t,” she answered.
All three of the men looked mean, exhausted and angry.
One spoke up, “How much gas do you have?”
Gabby slid over far enough to hopefully block their view from the five-gallon jug sitting in the middle of the back seat. The rest were in the trunk. “Not much. Enough for a few more miles, probably, before we’re walking,” she lied. “How about you all? Is everyone stuck here?”