“Pretty girl,” he says, looking right at me. “Real pretty. Remember me?”
If there were such a thing as a literal death stare, Chris would have killed all three of them with the intense glare he’s shooting their way. But I only stare, horrified. Because the guy I’m looking at is the same jerk that pushed me into the basin in Bakersfield. I can even see the bruises on his face where Chris beat the crap out of him.
Has he been tracking us?
“What do you want?” Chris asks, his voice a lot calmer than his body language.
“Just sniffing out rats, man,” the main dude replies. “We found a couple. Climb on outta there. You too, baby.” He holds his hand out to me. I ignore the gesture and step onto the pavement, Chris right beside me. “That’s right. Nice and easy.”
Main Dude looks me over, a creepy grin crawling across his face.
“Not bad. Not bad at all.” He motions to the backpack. “Got anything this time?”
“No,” I lie.
Guy Number Two shoves the cold barrel of his rifle into my back.
“Don’t lie to us,” he warns.
“I’m not. There’s nothing in there but…feminine products.” I bite my lip, fighting the urge to smirk. “Seriously. You can have them if you want, but I can’t see why a couple of macho guys like you would be interested. I mean, that’s just wrong.”
Main Dude’s mouth twitches. He flicks his finger underneath my chin, inspecting my face like I’m some kind of exhibit. “She always like this?” he asks, looking at Chris.
He shrugs.
“You have no idea.”
Main Dude smiles. It’s probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, because he leans just a little closer and says, “I think we can use you.” He turns to Chris. “You, on the other hand, I can’t think of a reason to keep alive.”
“Whoa!” I say, almost shouting. “Excuse me. Exactly what is your purpose for holding us at gunpoint in the middle of the remains of a freeway? I’d give you some change, but I seriously doubt if coins are worth anything anymore.”
“Just staying off the radar,” Main Dude says. “And enjoying it while we do.”
“Staying off the radar?” I repeat. “MeaningOmega’s radar, right?”
He nods.
“They’re everywhere, man.” He shakes his head. “Like roaches.”
“So let us go,” I say. “We’re just trying to do the same thing.”
“Yeah, but you’re a pretty girl, and I know a lot of guys back at camp that wouldn’t mind your company,” he replies like it’s no big deal. “Come on.”
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me forward. Scared, I don’t think about what I do. But I do it. I whack him across the face with my fist as hard as I can. He stumbles backwards, bewildered, just as Chris literally rips the rifle out of Guy Number Two’s hands and smashes the butt against his head.
Guy Number Two hits the ground, out cold — maybe dead — when I spin around, face to face with Guy Number Three. He grabs me by the hair and jams the heavy side of his gun into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs.
Gee, thanks for that.
I almost puke as I stumble backwards and hit the car, landing on my butt against the pavement. Three moves toward me, only to be put in a headlock by Chris, who slams his head against the car. He passes out, too. Which leaves Mr. Main Dude. But instead of standing like a man and fighting, he takes off into the night, running, screaming, “Over here! Come on!”
Chris bends down and hoists me up with one sweep of his arm.
“You all right?” he asks, only slightly winded. Like beating up a couple of guys is just a walk in the park. “Cassidy?”
I shake myself, my headache pounding more than ever thanks to my butt slam onto the ground. “Fine,” I murmur. “He’s going for help, you know.”
“I know.” Chris doesn’t let go of my hand as he rounds the car, grabbing our backpacks. He hands me mine and helps me put it on. Then he bends down and grabs his gun from Guy Number Two’s belt, also shouldering the shotguns from both unconscious cronies. “You take one,” he says.
“Are you kidding? I can’t shoot that thing.”
Chris slings both of them across his back.
“Fine. Let’s hustle before he comes back with more rocket scientists.”
“Scary rocket scientists,” I shudder.
Chris pulls me along, tossing me one of their flashlights. I catch it. It almost slips through my fingers because my hands are so sweaty. Chris and I jog for a long time before we slow to speed walking. It’s freezing, which makes my headache even worse.
“Wait,” I say. “Slow down.”
“We have to keep going,” Chris replies, “otherwise that idiot might bring back a whole gang on us.”
“I just want to get some pain meds,” I plead, trying to find the medicine box in the dark. “My head hurts.”
“Still?” Chris voice sounds concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“People get headaches, Chris. It’s not like I got shot.”
I wince with the pain of the migraine, not able to tell if I’m sweating from a fever or from running for a half an hour. I flick the flashlight on as I dig around, finally closing in on the pain meds. I chew several up, much to Chris’s disapproval.
“That’s too many,” he says, looking frustrated. “Don’t overdose.”
“It’s children’s medication,” I snort. “Please.”
I zip the pack up and get to my feet. Shaky, sweaty, migraine-ridden. All in all, considering that it’s the end of the world, I’m in pretty good shape.
Right?
Chapter Nine
Twenty-four hours later, it’s one o’clock in the morning and foggy. The fog is so thick that I can’t see more than five feet in front of me. I keep close to Chris as we follow the road, listening to suspicious sounds or lights. My headache is still around, but it’s not pounding like it was thanks to the pain meds.
Glad I threw them in my backpack a couple of months ago.
We haven’t seen any sign of Main Dude or a comeback posse. Good thing, too. Chris would probably just shoot them all if they showed up. It’s a relief. I’d like to survive this trip without my traveling partner turning into a ninja warrior.
We eventually stop and kick back on the side of the road, deciding that nobody will be able to sneak up on us because nobody can see us through the fog. I have my hood thrown over my head because the fog is heavy — almost like a literal blanket pressing down on my skin.
When my headache starts to come back again — and the fever — I take some more pain medication to keep it away. I don’t feel great, but at least I’m not dying or anything. Chris doses off for a little while and I do the same, slumping next to him with my head on his shoulder.
We start moving at three thirty, having covered at least another fifteen miles since last night. “I should have been a cross country marathon runner,” I grumble, wishing we could just stop and hang out at a McDonald’s with a bunch of junk food.
Oh, man. Junk food.
I miss you…
“You’re doing very well,” Chris assures me. “Taking it like a soldier.”
“Thanks,” I say, uninspired.
We stop again at six o’clock, just as the sun is coming up. Only we can’t really see the sun through all the fog, so everything just turns from black to gray. At seven we pick up the pace and I spot a McDonald’s off the freeway.
“I can’t take it anymore!” I announce, feeling my stomach rumble. “I need more food than an energy bar to stay alive. I’m going to see if there’s anything left in there.”