He jogged back to the house he shared with Simon, Sinner, and Shooter. Simon was already passed-out drunk in the recliner. Shooter was trying to stay awake and keep watch like Sinner used to.
Trevor peeked in on Sinner and found the man wide awake. “How you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He didn’t move, but Trevor could see his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
“You should try to sleep.”
Sinner shook his head. “I can’t sleep at night. That’s when they’re most active.”
He nodded and handed Sinner the pillow case of meds he had collected. “These are yours.”
Sinner finally turned and looked at him. “You’re leaving.” It was a statement, not a question.
Trevor nodded. “Yeah.”
Sinner’s eyes turned back to the ceiling. “Can’t say I blame ya.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Shooter told me what Simon pulled.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sinner nodded. “You got gear?”
Trevor nodded. “My bag stays packed.”
Sinner turned and stared at him. “My AR is in the garage. You take it. I don’t care if you have another weapon, you take that rifle.” He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “I won’t be using it for a while and you’ll need it out there.”
Trevor nodded again. “Safety in numbers, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Sinner’s voice was a whisper.
Trevor stepped beside the man and held his hand out. “I’ll miss you; you’re one of the good guys.”
Sinner looked at the man’s hand then grasped it with his own. “I owe you my life. That’s not something I forget easily.”
“We’ll call it even for keeping quiet about…this.”
“Be careful out there.” Sinner turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
“You be careful here. I don’t need to tell you the kind of man he is.”
Trevor patted Sinner’s good shoulder then slipped out of the room. Shooter was asleep at the window, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. Simon snored and smacked his lips in his sleep. Trevor didn’t want to imagine what he may be dreaming.
He slipped into the garage and slung his pack over his shoulder. He found Sinner’s AR and spare magazines. He stuffed the mags into his cargo pants pockets then slung the AR over his other shoulder.
He arrived back at the house and found the child still sitting where he’d left her. He stood in the doorway and motioned to her. “Come on. We’re going.”
To his surprise, she stood and slowly walked to him. He held his hand out to her and she took it, her questioning eyes probing his. “I don’t know where we’re going, but I’m getting you out of here. I couldn’t live with myself if he found you too.”
Through the night the pair walked. When Trevor found a car or truck that looked promising, he’d check for keys. So far, there weren’t any. Car after car, no luck. After half a dozen disappointments, he wished he’d learned how to hotwire back in high school. “They make it look so easy on television,” he whispered. Just rip wire out from under the dash and touch a few ends until the engine turns over.
Yeah, it don’t work that way, he remembered sourly. He’d tried that trick years ago. And, even IF you could rip the wires loose, and IF you could find the right ones, and IF you could get the damned thing to start and stay running…most steering wheels stayed locked without a key.
Damn those Hollywood writers.
To her credit, the little girl kept up with him. She didn’t try to run away, or attack him, though the one time they heard a Rager scream into the night, she clung to him in fear. It was then that he picked her up and carried her.
Trevor put as much distance as he could between them and Simon, but when the first licks of sunlight crested the eastern horizon, the little girl began to whimper. She tugged at the sweatshirt he had put over her t-shirt and whined like a puppy. It took Trevor a few moments to realize that she was either afraid of the sun or it somehow hurt her.
He ducked them under an overpass and they rested while he tried to think of what to do next. He pushed them as deep into the shadows as he could, as high up under the overpass as they could get.
She lay beside him, her head resting in his lap and he rubbed her bony little back while she tried to rest. He had pulled the hoodie up on her sweatshirt and covered her face. He draped his jacket over her and rocked while she rested.
Trevor didn’t know why, but it made him feel better to talk to her. He would talk about whatever came to mind, and the girl seemed to listen, though he couldn’t be certain that she understood anything.
“I must seem crazy to you, huh?” He sighed heavily and rubbed at her shoulders. “Poor kid, stuck out in this whole big world by yourself. I dunno if that was your folks or not, but if it was, I’m real sorry what happened. Nobody should have to deal with…that.”
Trevor’s eyes slowly drooped, fatigue taking him as he rocked her. Still, he spoke aloud. “You know, I didn’t always use to hang with assholes like Simon. I had me a girl once. She wouldn’t marry me, but we was together for like, eight years.” He sniffed back unshed tears as memories he thought he’d forgotten pushed to the surface. “We had us a little girl. She’d be about your age now…if she’d a made it.” He continued to rub her back as he rocked. “She was born with a bad liver. Doctors kept saying that she had jaundice or some such. Then quicker than shit, she died. My girl, Lacey, she didn’t deal with it very well.” He stopped rocking and stared at her little face. “Truth be told, I didn’t either. But pretended to be
