Chapter 24
The storm raged on, and Hayden dug. He made the hole wider and longer to accommodate the dead woman’s body. Wind howled in the rooms above them, through the broken windows and open front door. What remained of Elton’s forty-year old home was being thoroughly devastated.
“I could’ve done it myself,” the old man said from the bottom step of the cellar. “I would’ve eventually got the job done.”
Hayden took a rest and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I know you would’ve.” He was three feet down, and the ground was hard. May MacDonald wouldn’t be laid to rest six feet under. She would have to settle for four. “But seeing as we’re staying until the storm passes, I figured I could keep busy.”
Hayden picked the shovel back up and resumed digging. Elton spoke again after a few more minutes. “I’m not going with you.”
“I know.”
“I’m too old to start anything again. I’m too old and I’m too tired.”
“I know.”
They wrapped her body in a plain white bed sheet and lowered it into the hole. The generator died in the storm and Hayden shoveled the dirt back into the grave in the dark. No words were spoken, no prayers whispered. There was a moment when Hayden thought all of his hard work would be for nothing. Something sounding like a freight train leaving its tracks roared above their heads. Another of those monstrous tornadoes was twisting its way through the property, tearing up what remained. It eventually passed, leaving the house and May MacDonald’s final resting place intact.
The wind died down and the rain stopped falling. Elton led them up and out of the cellar to survey the damage. Most of what the old man and his wife had accumulated over the decades had been picked over and stolen in the last week. What was left was strewn about the wet floor, smashed and useless.
Hayden went outside and stood over his dead horse. He prayed she hadn’t suffered. How could she have, he thought? Every square inch of her had been torn to shreds with gunfire. The bastards. He closed his eyes and pictured the one that had exited out from the tank turret. Young, twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. Black hair shaved close to his scalp. No shirt. Dirty blue jeans and big black boots with the laces untied. Sunglasses.
“Are we walking now?”
Hayden opened his eyes and saw Nicholas. “Yeah, I suppose we are.” He searched around Trixie’s corpse for his rifle. It was gone. So was the saddlebag with their few remaining supplies. They couldn’t even leave us that.
“How far are we from the city?”
It was still grey towards the east, as if the sky was threatening to unleash another storm. Or perhaps it was smoke; a low-hanging cloud of ruin settled over what was left of Winnipeg. “Not far. We can reach the outskirts before nightfall on foot.”
Elton MacDonald was leaned up against a cracked porch beam. “You’re welcome to stay.”
Hayden could see that hooded look again in the old man’s eyes—the bottom lip jutting out. They could stay if they wanted, but they wouldn’t be all that welcome. Elton had a job to finish, and he needed to be alone.
“Thanks, but no. We’ll be leaving now. Can I have that rifle of yours?”
“Nope.”
Hayden and Nicholas reached the highway less than five minutes later. They heard a single gunshot behind them. Nicholas spun around and stared at the farmhouse. “Did those bad men in the trucks come back?”
“Nope.” Hayden tightened his hand around the boy’s and started for the city.
Chapter 25
Four hours and ten miles later they came upon the town of Eustache. It was the last small town before the city. It had been more of a rest stop for truckers and travelers heading to and from Winnipeg, a last minute stop for gas and junk food. Now it was a ghost town, just another abandoned settlement. The ruin of the city beyond was obvious. Hayden could no longer see the skyline of larger buildings that the city’s center once consisted of. In its place was a smoking crater. Above it was one big heavy cloud. The occasional bolt of lightning cracked down from the dull, mustard-colored mass, striking whatever there was left still standing.
“That’s the city?” Nicholas asked.
“It was.”
“What kind of home are we gonna find there?”
Hayden couldn’t answer him. They had traveled almost two hundred miles for nothing. He continued on anyway, too heartbroken and too tired to care. He missed his horse terribly.
“Can we stop at a rest-ront for something to eat? I gotta pee, too.”
There were plenty of restaurants and diners to choose from in Eustache. Either side of the highway was lined with gas stations and convenience stores. Hayden worried there wouldn’t be much left in any of them worth taking. Most of the plate glass windows had been smashed in. Fuel dispensers were left laying on pavement next to their bowsers like dead snakes. Gas—for the vehicles that still ran—and water would’ve been the first things people took and exhausted on their journeys to wherever it was they were going.
“Pee on the ground, Nicholas. There’s no one left that cares.” The boy did his business in front of Hayden without turning around. Hayden squeezed his shoulder. “Stay outside where I can see you. I’m going to check in that gas station to see if there’s any food.”
The boy tucked himself in and shoved his hands patiently into his pants pockets. Hayden crossed the parking lot of a Shell station and stepped over the last bit of jagged glass in one of the window frames. The drink coolers were dark and completely empty. Hayden went behind the cash-register counter and helped himself to the three remaining rolls of breath mints inside the display case. The chocolate bar boxes were bare. The potato chip racks had been knocked over, the chewing gum containers thrown to the floor. He peered through the plastic window set in the swinging door that led to the kitchen. What wasn’t draped in shadows didn’t look promising. A refrigerator had been left open, and the bit of stainless steel preparation counter Hayden could see was covered in something dark. There was another dried puddle of it on the floor with bits of grey matter throughout. The kitchen’s smell reminded him of Elton MacDonald’s cellar.
He peered back over his shoulder and spotted Nicholas sitting up against a black garbage container fitted between fuel terminals. There was nothing more for them here. Hayden handed the candy rolls to him. “Cherry flavor! My favorite.”
“Lucky you.”
They crossed the highway and explored another gas station restaurant, exiting with even less than they had from the Shell. The two fared better at their third stop—a small diner called Rick’s Good Food. There was a case of stale soup crackers in the back storage room, and enough out-dated energy drinks to last them a month. Nicholas winced as he swallowed a small bit of it. “Gross.”
“Good. I don’t need you drinking that much caffeine.”
“But the crackers are dry.” He washed a second mouthful down with the saltines.
“Come on, kid, let’s see what else the fine town of Eustache has to offer. We’ll need to find a place to sleep before it gets dark.”
There was little else to be found in Eustache. Three miles east they came across a trucker’s weigh station located on the perimeter of the city. The station itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. The building set back off from the trucking lane was like any other checkpoint structure Hayden had seen; small, one window, and featureless. What was unusual was the single vehicle parked in front of it—a black four-door Audi. The car was a newer model, no older than two or three years, and besides the missing driver’s side mirror, it looked well kept, and very costly.
Hayden ran his fingers along the door. He spotted some dark streaks on the rear fender that may have been rust. Too new to be rust. He squatted down and inspected the marks more closely. Blood. The driver had hit something recently, a deer perhaps. Hayden hoped it had been a deer. He looked back down the side where the mirror had been. That might explain what happened there. He went around the back and walked along the passenger side. Mud was caked into the tire spokes and wheel wells. A piece of it fell to the ground. Hasn’t even had time to dry.