Desolate The Complete Trilogy

19



For a little girl, Emily was pretty sharp. When the garage erupted with gunfire, she dove to the floor and made herself as flat as possible. I did the same and crawled to her.

Ketch fired his revolver dry and dropped it to the floor. The gunmen outside continued to fire. Their rounds peppered off the back wall of the garage and covered us with plaster debris and dust. Ketch, all the while screaming like a lunatic, scrambled behind a crate and out of sight. He grew quiet and the shooting stopped. Emily and I lay flat on our stomachs behind a short stack of pallets. Not very good cover, but I thought we were at least hidden from the outside.

“Hey, in there,” a voice outside bellowed. It sounded American. “Nobody needs to get shot! Come on out with your hands up.”

“Gunkona!” Ketch screamed from behind his crate.

I could hear him rummaging around back there. He popped up holding a military-style shotgun and screamed. Before he could get off the first shot, the top of his head exploded in a spray of mist. The single rifle shot from outside echoed through the streets. Ketch collapsed to the floor, twitched a couple of times, and was still.

“Don’t shoot, we’re coming out!” I yelled from behind the pallets. “There’s a little girl here!”

I raised my hands above the pallets and waited for them to be shredded by bullets. When no shots came, I slowly rose.

The truck was no longer in front of the garage, but two men stood there with their rifles pointed at me. One white guy who looked to be around my age and a younger looking black kid.

“Keep those hands where I can see ’em and head this way,” the white guy commanded.

I looked down at Emily, those big eyes looking to me for answers, and I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring nod. She got up and stood next to me with her hands up high. I wished I could somehow remove the last thirty minutes from her memory. I grabbed her hand and slowly walked toward the men.

“We’re not with him,” I nodded toward Ketch’s body. “He was holding us captive.”

“Just get yer ass over here,” whitey growled. “Plenty of time for stories later.”

Emily and I shuffled toward the gunmen and out of the garage. The truck was idling down the street. A concerned looking black woman leaned out of the driver side window. I could see the silhouette of another person in the passenger seat.

“Check him,” the white guy said to his partner.

The black kid lowered his assault rifle and patted me down for weapons. The kid reported I was clean and the white guy waved at the truck. The woman from the driver’s seat climbed out and a young white girl followed.

The white guy lowered his gun but kept it pointed toward my feet. “You wanna fill me in on what happened, chief?” He glanced at Emily and then back to me.

“That guy back there was a nut,” I said. “A drug dealer, I think. He went crazy and killed the guy he was with and was just about to kill me.”

“That must have been the shots we heard. We were up the street looking for supplies when we heard ’em.” He held out his hand and I shook it. “Name’s Dave Penske. This here is Tre.”

I shook hands with the black kid and said, “Howard Bell. This is Emily. I’ve been watching out for her.”

Dave pointed at my face and what was probably a mangled and bruised nose. “Looks like they worked you over pretty good.”

I touched my nose, winced in pain, and was glad I didn’t have a mirror handy. “Yeah, took a cheap shot with a shovel.”

The women hurried over. The black woman was short and heavyset. Probably around fifty. She had a kind face and big old mop of hair trying to be tamed by a bandanna tied around her head. The girl couldn’t have been a day over sixteen but regarded me with the eyes of a girl who had aged a little too quickly over the last couple of weeks.

“What happened?” the woman asked.

“Put down a druggie in the garage,” Dave said. “We’re all good. This here is Howard and Emily. Howard, meet Minnie and Ann.”

Minnie smiled at me and then squatted down in front of Emily. “Well, look at you, child. Aren’t you juss de cutest ting?”

Emily grabbed my hand and pushed up against my leg.

“Let me guess, Howard,” Dave said. “You get stranded on vacation like me and Annie here when the world decided to shit the bed?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I answered.

“We’re heading to the north coast. Gonna try for Montego Bay,” Dave said. “We’re hoping some of the more touristy spots up there might be in a little better shape. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Sounds good. Before Emily and I got ambushed I was planning on finding a car and trying to find Kingston.”

“Kingston is dead,” said Tre flatly. “Dat’s where we come from. Lucky to get out of dere alive.”

Everybody nodded silently in agreement. I had a feeling the story of what these people had gone through the last few days could rival mine.

“Y’all got that right,” muttered Dave. “What was left of the survivors amounted to a bunch of gangbangers trying to run what was left of the city. That and dirty street people. Present company the exception ’course,” he nodded at Tre and Minnie.

“So are we going to go, or what?” Ann asked. “This place stinks.”

“How ’bout it, Howie?” Dave asked. “You two gonna join us?”

“Just a sec,” I said and crouched down to Emily. “What do you think, kiddo? Should we go with these people? I don’t make a move without asking my partner first.”

“Let’s rock,” she said.

“You heard the lady,” I said to the group. “Just one condition. Please don’t call me Howie. Brings back bad memories.”