and well fed and maybe even a little high. Most importantly to Josh, they look as though they would just as soon start blasting as engage in any kind of diplomacy.
“We’re cool,” Josh says, but he’s fairly certain that the tone of his voice, the set of his jaw, and the fact that he too has refrained from lowering his gun—all of this probably sends a countervailing message to Bandanna Man. “Aren’t we, Bob? Aren’t we cool?”
Bob mumbles something inaudible. The Desert Eagle remains in its upright, locked position, and for a brief and awkward moment, the two groups stand each other off with guns pointed at key pieces of anatomy. Josh doesn’t like the odds—the intruders are packing enough firepower to take down a small garrison—but on the other hand, Josh’s side has three working firearms all pointed, at the moment, directly at the raiding party’s leader, whose loss might put a serious kink in this little posse’s group dynamic.
“Let the girl go, Haynes,” Bandanna Man orders his underling.
“But what about—”
“I said let her go!”
The wild-eyed black kid shoves Megan toward her comrades, and Megan stumbles for a moment, nearly falling, but then manages to stay upright and stagger over to Bob. “What a bunch of fucking dicks!” she grumbles.
“You okay, sweetie?” Bob asks, putting his free arm around her, but not taking his eyes (or the barrel of the magnum) off the intruders.
“Assholes snuck up on me,” she says, rubbing her wrists, glowering back at them.
Bandanna Man lowers his gun and addresses Josh. “Look, we can’t take any chances these days, we didn’t know you from Adam … we’re just looking after our own.”
Unconvinced, Josh keeps the .38 beaded directly on Bandanna Man’s chest. “What does that have to do with snatching that girl outta the truck?”
“Like I said … we didn’t know how many of you we were dealing with … who she was gonna warn … we didn’t know anything.”
“You own this place?”
“No … whaddaya mean? No.”
Josh gives him a cold smile. “Then lemme make a suggestion … as to where we go from here.”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s plenty of stuff left in here … why don’t y’all let us pass and you can have the rest.”
Bandanna Man turns to his gang. “Guns down, guys. Come on. Step it on back. Come on.”
Almost reluctantly the rest of the intruders comply and lower their weapons.
Bandanna Man turns back to Josh. “Name’s Martinez … I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Name’s Hamilton and it’s nice to meet you and I’d appreciate it if you’d let us pass.”
“No problema, mi amigo … but can I just make a suggestion to
“I’m listening.”
“First off, is there any way you could stop pointing those guns at us?”
Josh keeps his eyes on Martinez as he lowers his gun. “Scott, Bob … go ahead … it’s okay.”
Scott puts the shotgun on his shoulder and leans against a checkout belt to listen. Bob reluctantly lowers the muzzle of the Desert Eagle, shoves it behind his belt, and keeps his arm around Megan.
Lilly sets her axe—head down—on the floor, leaning it against the pharmacy counter.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Martinez takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. “What I’m wondering is this. You seem like you got your head screwed on straight. You got the right to take all that merchandise outta here … but can I ask where you’re taking it?”
“Truth is, we ain’t taking it anywhere,” Josh says. “We’re getting it to go.”
“You folks living on the road?”
“What difference does it make?”
Martinez shrugs. “Look, I know you got no reason to trust me, but the way things are, folks like us … we can be mutually beneficial to each other. You know what I’m saying?”
“To be honest, no … I don’t have a fuckin’ clue as to what you’re saying.”
Martinez sighs. “Let me lay my cards on the table. We could part ways right here and now, no harm no foul, wish each other the best…”
“Sounds good to me,” Josh says.
“We got a better option, though,” the man says.
“Which is?”
“A walled-in place, just up the road, people just like you and me, trying to make a place to live.”
“Go on.”
“No more running, is what I’m saying. We secured part of a town. It ain’t much … yet. We got some walls up. Place to grow food. Generators. Heat. We definitely got room for five more.”
Josh doesn’t say anything. He looks at Lilly. He can’t read her face. She looks exhausted, scared, confused. He looks at the others. He sees Bob’s wheels turning. Scott looks at the floor. Megan stares balefully out at the intruders through tendrils of curly hair.
“Think about it, man,” Martinez goes on. “We could split up what’s left in this place and call it a day or we could join forces. We need good strong backs. If I wanted to rob you, fuck with you, mess you up … wouldn’t I have done it already? I got no reason to make trouble. Come with us, Hamilton. Whaddaya say? There’s nothing out there on the road but more shit and winter rolling in. Whaddaya say, man?”
Josh looks at Martinez for a long moment, until finally Josh says, “Give us a second.”
* * *
They gather over by the checkout counters.
“Dude, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” Megan says to Josh in a low, tense whisper. The others huddle around the big man in a semicircle. “You’re thinking about going somewhere with these scumbags?”
Josh licks his lips. “I don’t know … the more I look at these dudes, the more they look just as scared and freaked out as we are.”
Lilly chimes in. “Maybe we could just check the place out, see what it’s like.”
Bob looks at Josh. “Compared with livin’ in tents on the ground with a bunch of hotheads? How bad could it be?”
Megan groans. “Is it just me, or have you people lost your fucking minds?”
“Megan, I don’t know,” Scott says. “I’m like thinking what do we have to lose?”
“Shut up, Scott.”
“Okay, look,” Josh says, holding up a huge hand and cutting off the debate. “I don’t see any harm in following them, checking the place out. We’ll keep our guns, keep our eyes open, and we’ll decide when we see the place.” He looks at Bob, then looks at Lilly. “Cool?”
Lilly takes a deep breath. Then gives him a nod. “Yeah … cool.”
“Terrific,” Megan grumbles, following the others back toward the entrance.
* * *
It takes another hour and the combined efforts of the two groups to go through the rest of the store for heavy items required by the town. They raid the lawn and garden center and home repair for lumber, fertilizer, potting soil, seeds, hammers, and nails. Lilly senses an edgy quality to the uneasy truce between the two contingents. She keeps tabs on Martinez out of the corner of her eye, and she notices an unspoken hierarchy to the ragtag raiding party. Martinez is definitely the honcho, ruling the others with simple gestures and nods.
By the time they get Bob’s Ram and the two vehicles from the walled-in town—a panel van and flatbed truck—loaded to the gills, twilight is closing in. Martinez gets behind the wheel of the van, and tells Bob to follow along behind the flatbed … and the convoy starts out for the town.
As they wend their way out of the dusty Walmart lot and start up the access road toward the highway, Lilly sits in the back sleeper compartment, gazing through the bug-streaked windshield, as Bob concentrates on keeping up with the exhaust-belching flatbed. They pass tangles of wreckage and dense forests on either side of the farm road, behind which shadows are deepening. A fine mist of sleet rolls in on the north wind.
In the steel-gray twilight, Lilly can barely see the lead vehicle—several car lengths ahead of them—a glimpse
