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Transformation Page 24


  Weed motioned for Ron to give him the rifle. He took aim and dropped one of the men. The rest went down low and out of sight. He waited another minute then fired another shot at a branch that moved. He handed the rifle back to Ron with a smile.

  “Let’s move.” Francis took the lead and walked quietly in the opposite direction. After a few minutes of leisurely downhill travel, he fell back and walked by Ron.

  “It’ll take some time for them to discover we ain’t layin’ in wait.”

  Ron nodded and for the next hour or more the two fell silent. There was still no sign of their pursuers.

  The two had long been walking slowly, now they were dragging their feet. They could barely lift their legs. Francis broke the silence.

  “Shit, Ronnie, I need to rest. I mean ‘flat out on my back for an hour or two’ rest.”

  Ron looked back. “Me too. Think it’s safe?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” Weed laid down on the thick pine blanket. The cool temperature made for a soft bug free natural mattress. Ron followed suit.

  “Francis. It’s getting cold.”

  “Yeah, and it’ll get a lot colder.”

  “You think we can build a fire?”

  But all Ron got out of the old man was soft snoring. He huffed quietly and shook his head. How can he sleep so easily? Ron thought there was no way he was going to fall asleep, but shortly he was out cold too.

  Ron woke in a panic. A calloused hand clamped hard over his mouth. He struggled for a moment until he heard Francis’ voice in the dark.

  “It’s me, damn it.”

  The hard grip eased and Ron could breathe freely.

  “They’re close,” Francis whispered near Ron’s ear. “We have to move.”

  Ron stumbled in the darkness, hands out like a blind man, straining to see Francis, following him mostly by the sounds of his footfalls. He wondered how the old man was moving through the dark so easily. Then he heard Francis stumble and grumble something about a fucking root.

  The sky above was barely visible through the trees. When the two looked back, they could see lights bobbing and swaying in the dark many yards away. They could hear the faint crack and crunch of the men passing through the woods. They kept moving through the dark.

  Ron was so cold he didn’t shiver and knew that wasn’t a good sign. His body felt almost hot as he walked on, following the faint blob in front of him that was Francis’ back. His breath burned his lungs and his feet felt like someone had pounded his toes with hammers. He was feeling a deep fear that his body would fail him suddenly, and he would fall in the darkness to die in one horrible way or another.

  They walked in silence for what felt like hours. Ron finally stopped.

  “I have to rest. I’m sorry.” Ron wheezed between breaths.

  He heard Francis sigh deeply in the darkness and thought the old man was going to call him a pussy. But Francis had relief in his voice when he spoke.

  “Agreed,” was all Francis said and Ron heard him grunting as he went to the forest floor.

  Ron knelt and grimaced in pain. Pain in all its forms tormented him. He was starving and weak. But above all the emotional pain of being in a situation so very dismal, he just wanted to give up weighed him down at every step.

  A flame jumped to life in the darkness. The tiny flame danced as Francis gathered sticks and cones to burn. Ron scraped up what he could and soon they had a small fire going that was so very welcomed but wasn’t enough.

  “We need to risk a bigger one,” Francis said in a hoarse voice. “I’m going to die in this miserable darkness if we don’t.”

  On their hands and knees the two men gathered as much fuel as they could. Ron found a few sizable branches. They tossed them on the flames and created a blaze that would surely draw the attention of anyone close by, but they didn’t care at this point. They both fed the flames for almost twenty minutes, gathered a few substantial chunks of wood, and relished the intense heat.

  The two men lay on their sides warming their bodies, scooting pine needles into the flames so they wouldn’t ignite the ones around them. Soon the fire had a good base of glowing embers that pulsed as they ignited the chunks of wood above them.

  After almost an hour of silence Ron spoke.

  “I hate to ask, but you know Dale said a lot of stuff . . . “

  “Lots of it was true.”

  “Yeah, I figured it was true, in the past. But what’s important is how things are going forward. Dale insisted people don’t change…”

  “Agreed. I’d say before all this zombie shit went down he was spot on, but all of us changed for better and worse.” Weed was relaxing, feeling all warm and fuzzy. He chuckled at himself. “I tell you, if you would’ve told me just a few weeks ago that I’d be sitting in the woods with a . . . “

  “A spook, a coon . . . “ Ron said with exasperation.

  “Well, yeah that would have been a few of the choice names that came to mind, but like I said, a lot's changed. Now there ain’t no races, just people. And honestly, you ain’t like no blacks I ever been around.”

  Ron grunted, a mix of feelings about the comment. He stopped talking. He was so distracted he’d barely thought of anything other than staying alive, but now thoughts of Donna flooded his sober mind. Weed could see the shift in his mood, a change in his face.

  “Hey man, sorry about all that went down.”

  “Did you do it? Build the bomb?” Ron looked Francis in the eyes.

  “Nah. I got no reason too. It makes no sense.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I’m too tired for diplomacy so I’ll just say again, I think that young fellow mixed up some shit that just blew.”

  “Yeah.” Ron wasn’t sure what he’d accomplish if he knew anyway. He looked down, exhausted and wondering why he was fighting to stay alive. He realized he was still fighting to get back to Donna and that thought deflated him. He lay back on the cold pine needles.

  Weed was watching Ron. He could see the man’s despair. He wished he had a blunt to offer him, a shot of hooch, but all he had was words and he was fucking awful with words.

  “Sorry man.” Fucking awful!

  “Thanks.”

  They sat in silence watching the flames dance, staring into the embers. Both thinking very different thoughts.

  “Ronnie, I’m sorry I dragged you along on this shit.”

  Ron looked up. “Why are we here anyway? I think I am supposed to be mad at you. But you do seem to be trying your best to get me out of this mess.”

  Weed chuckled. “Yeah, I was aching for some road time, didn’t want to go alone, and most importantly I needed . . . “ Weed paused. “Well, it sounds so god-awful stupid now but my stash is gone and . . . “

  “Aw jeez,” Ron moaned. “We are here because you needed some dope?”

  “Um, yeah, but it’s good dope. I mean really good shit.”

  “You mean you dragged me into the bowels of a white supremacist stronghold to get some weed?” Ron was incredulous. “Me? Of all people?”

  “Aw shit, Ronnie. I honestly didn’t think a soul would be in the place. I was just messing with you. For the distraction. For both of us.”

  Weed looked down at the fire and couldn’t help but laugh. “Shit, Ronnie I told you. It’s really good shit.”

  Ron tried to be mad, but couldn’t help but crack a smile at just how ludicrous the situation was.

  “A mean comment or silly prank is messing with someone, but this . . . This shit is just crazy.”

  “It’s your fault my brother.”

  “What? How in the world can any of this be my fault?”

  “Well as I remember it, you came to me to get high. Then you smoked the last of my shit—my gold shit too. Then you agreed to come with me to get more.”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to any of this.”

  “You were pretty high, and drunk too. How was I supposed to know you couldn’t handle your shit.”

 
; Ron was still bemused. “And there’s nowhere else to get more weed than a white power compound in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I told you, it’s . . . “

  “Good shit, I know.”

  “No, it’s really good shit. I mean it. World class. Look Ron, I’m sorry about all this. I really thought no one would be here, and we’d just gather up some stuff and be off.”

  Ron didn’t care. He flopped on his back once again. The loss of Donna lessened any anger he might have for Francis and dulled any amusement he might have at the situation. He just wanted far away from all these fucked up people. He looked up at the stars and wondered what was next. What would he do if he did make it all the way back to the garage? He had a thought.

  “Francis. Dale told me bikers were racists, hardcore racists. This all started because one of your buddies tried to hang me.”

  “Not all. Not all hardcore. And Banjo wasn’t my buddy. Before all this shit his MC and mine were bitter enemies. Stupid shit really.”

  “MC?”

  “Motorcycle Club.”

  “And it turns out he didn’t tell us the part where he tried to string you up.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, hoodwinked us but good that Banjo.”

  Ron did see the irony of almost being lynched by one biker and saved from it by another.

  “So what’s next?”

  “Well, if we aren’t killed by the Nazis, freeze to death, starve, fall off a cliff, get eaten by the dead or a wild fucking animal—I don’t know guess I was hoping we could get back to the garage.”

  “What about your weed?”

  “I thought that was off the table.”

  “I don’t know. After all this, it seems like a waste to leave empty handed. I’ve got nothing to go back to.”

  “Well in that case, let me tell you what we need to do next.”

  32.

  Cooper looked the big fat burly bastard in the face. The bastard looked straight back at him with a smile. He was clearly going to enjoy this.

  He backed away and put his weapon on the ground. He walked back towards Cooper. Eye to eye. He was smiling. He was not yet finished his taunting.

  “I’m going to beat your ass till you are almost dead. Then I’m going make you watch me fuck that little whore of yours.”

  “That’s enough Ross.” It was the older man, Don. He and the others who left entered the clearing.

  Burly Ross turned and went for his weapon, but it was already gone. The woman guarding Rachael held it. Everyone trained their weapons on Ross.

  “You’re done Ross.”

  “Fuck you Don.”

  He ignored him. “Take him to the shed.” Everyone but Don and the woman who had been guarding Rachael escorted Ross away.

  “Sorry about all this. We saw an opportunity to deal with a problem and took it.”

  “Sorry about the spit.”

  “Forget it. We’re even. You were right to react in such a way.”

  Don pulled a knife from his belt and made quick work of the ropes holding Cooper.

  “It’s a long story and we don’t have time to socialize. We’re letting you go because we know who killed Shaw.”

  “It was Ben,” Cooper stated it as a fact.

  “Actually, no it wasn’t. It was Ross.”

  “What?” Cooper couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Sorry about all this but it was necessary, for us. When you arrived, after hitting Pedro, we saw an opportunity and took it. Ross has been sewing discord in the community for weeks since his arrival, and we needed to figure out who was working with him, who was loyal. You just help speed things up.”

  “What if I would have escaped and killed one of you?”

  “Didn’t happen. We wouldn’t let it.”

  “What happens to Ben? He really is bad news, I mean bad news.”

  “We know. We had a female guard sweet talking him the whole time. He’s bragging about all of his exploits. Shelia’s going to confront him with it and we will have a trial of some sort. We’re really just trying to make all this work. Big pain in the ass, but if we all succumb to fear and do nothing the Rosses of the world rule. It’d be the Dark Ages all over again.”

  “Where’s Ben now?” Rachael cut in.

  “His room, locked in.”

  “But you have a female guard going in and out, trying to manipulate him.”

  “She’s not trying, she’s doing it.”

  “Ben’s the one doing the manipulating. You need to get back there now and make sure there’s no more communication with him, no more physical contact.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yes, and that is also a long story. He’s a murderer. I’ve watched him kill a lot of people.”

  Don looked confused. “You didn’t tell us this, why?” He looked at Cooper.

  “It’s true. He started following us. We saw him wreck, and thought he was dead.”

  Don motioned to two men. “Run back there now. Put him on a tight lock down.”

  “OK. We can’t let you stay because there’s still a lot of people pissed about Pedro. Don’t worry we know what went down and don’t hold you accountable but most of the others weren’t there. A lot of them seem to think you could have avoided killing him. But then they’re the ones that don’t go on patrol and have never been in an armed ambush, or what appeared to be one.”

  Cooper and Rachael were given their possessions. Their packs were full.

  “We stocked you up. There’s enough there for a few days. Hopefully that’ll get you to where you are going. Come back by if you can in the future. Give it at least a few weeks for things to get talked out and settled down.”

  “We sure will. We’re heading up to a community at the airport, San Jose.” Cooper sighed. “I feel responsible for Pedro’s death. I had no idea.”

  “No. It was all Shaw. He created that clusterfuck and he knew it. He was angry at himself. He really was a good guy. You two would’ve gotten along. He’d eventually come around and apologized to you for putting you in that situation. OK. Enough chitchat. I’m going to personally drive you out of here to wherever you want to go.”

  “Hoods on then,” Cooper said.

  “No. No hoods. Someone in the community vouched for you. He requested he stay anonymous, but his word has a lot of weight with us.”

  Cooper wondered briefly who the anonymous source was, and why they would choose to be anonymous? But the riddle would drive him nuts so he put it out of his mind. He’d stop by here in the future and maybe then figure it out.

  He’d intended to tell Rachael about his conversation with Trevor, but it kept getting put off. He needed to tell her as soon as he was able. Maybe right after they were dropped off.

  §

  The two guards rushed back to the pool house and as they approached they saw that the front door was opened. They had a sick feeling as if they knew what they were going to find.

  The door to Ben’s room was open. They rushed in to find the body of the female guard on the floor.

  “Motherfucker,” one guard growled as he knelt by her. He felt for a pulse on a neck black and blue from strangulation. Her pants were torn off and she was nude from the waist down.

  “Looks like the asshole raped her,” the standing guard said.

  “No shit. She’s alive. Go get help and sound the alarm.”

  The guard rushed out and the remaining man turned back to the woman and took her hand to pat it.

  “You’re going to be OK.”

  She whimpered and moaned. Her eyes fluttered open. A pained expression crossed her face.

  “I fucked up.” She was barely able to get the words out.

  “No. No you didn’t. Just relax you are going to be OK.”

  She pulled her hand away.

  “Go find that asshole and kill him.”

  §

  Ben easily followed the kicked up trail through the woods. He could see the armed men and women clearly as
they stomped through the trees talking. They assumed they were so remote that they were perfectly safe, which was normally a safe assumption. Ben arrived at the clearing in time to see the prick get cut down and hear the conversation. San Jose Airport. He could get there.

  He stuck his hand down the front of his pants. His junk was still moist from the guard bitch. He rubbed his fingers around and then put them to his nose and sniffed deeply. He wished he could’ve spent more time with her.

  They would be looking for him soon so he had no choice but to strike out into the woods and start running. Ben ran and ran just like the retard in that box of chocolates movie. Eventually, he slowed down but kept jogging until he came to a road. He started walking and followed the road until he came to a cabin. The sun was getting low in the sky.

  There was a four wheel drive Bronco parked in front of the cabin. Ben saw someone walking back and forth in the front room through the windows. There was a little girl playing on the porch, alone.

  Ben smiled as he made his approach.

  33.

  Sal was pissed off at himself. They had lost almost a full day because he was in a drugged sleep. Even now that he was able to stand he was dizzy and groggy. He had a hard time of walking for the first few hours. He was grateful that the route they chose, away from the others, was clear of the dead for the most part.

  They made good time when Sal was able to walk faster, even jogging a little. They eventually turned north. It was a long quiet day. Only a few times did they have to avoid the dead or take a few down if they were in the way.

  When the sun began to set, they started looked for a place. Neither one wanted to walk in the dark of the night if they could help it. Nighttime these days was very, very dark. It was hard to see and it was silent. Any light you shed or sound you made was a beacon for anyone and anything in the area.

  They found a gas station with an access ladder to the roof. The ladder was covered by a sheet of steel that was hinged and locked in place covering the rungs. Easy enough to bypass for a thinking active human, impossible if you had the abilities of a walking corpse. They got comfortable and feasted on the junk food from the shelves below. They were safely tucked away before the sun was all the way down.