Page 10 of Unrest
Devon pulled to the side of the road. I could make out Matt’s stocky form leaning over in the front seat with the binoculars, scouting. Back behind the gas station were two old trailer homes and a rusty car on blocks. Everything was still and quiet. Ghost town.
Creeping forward, we made our way to the gas station and parked at the pumps. My heart pounded as we looked around. Farther down the road were more small buildings and a scattering of trailer homes in the distance, but not a soul was in sight. We quietly got out, but left our doors open so as not to make too much noise.
Matt stood outside now, looking out with the binoculars.
“We need you inside, tech boy,” Texas Harry said to him in a low voice.
“I’ll keep watch,” Tater offered. Matt handed over the binoculars.
Remy waited in the car with her door open. I leaned against the inside of her door as the guys smashed another window to get in the building. With every loud smack of the hammer, I flinched, the sound too loud in the silence of the abandoned town.
“This place freaks me out,” Remy whispered.
I agreed. A gust of wind whipped up a small funnel of dust at the edge of the road just as a shattering blast rang out from the gas station window breaking. Mutters and quiet laughter came from the guys as they pushed their way into the shop. I ran my fingers roughly up and down my legs, digging into the thin denim, trying to scratch away the antsy sensation inside of me.
“I need to stretch my legs,” I said. “Want to come?”
She shook her head, so I let her be. I walked to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. Finding nothing but dirt and broken pavement, I walked to the back where the dumpster was. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell bad. I moved closer, wondering what kind of stuff might have been thrown out last when I heard a sound—the crunch of gravel underfoot. My entire body went stock still and I held my breath as a man stepped out from behind the dumpster.
He was no DRI. This was a local man, unshaven with messy strands of brown and gray hair. His clothes hung loosely over a rounded belly, which must have been a significant beer gut a month ago. I stepped back to put comfortable distance between us, but heard another crunch and turned to see a second, much thinner man come out from the other side, boxing me in between the building and dumpster.
I tamped down my instinct to scream. These were just men. Survivors who’d managed to evade the DRI round ups.
“Hi,” I said, damning my jittering voice. But I couldn’t ignore the gut feeling telling me to get far away.
The thin man’s eyes traveled my body from top to bottom and he grinned, showing several gray teeth. That’s when I noticed the baseball bat he leaned against. I inhaled sharply.
“Nothin’ to be scared of,” said the older guy, stepping closer. “Been a while since we seen anyone in these parts, but you look safe enough.”
“I need to get back to my friends.” My fleeing instinct pushed me to try to pass, but the thin man grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the other man.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned. This time I barreled past him, only to scream when my head was yanked backward with a sting of pain. The old bastard had me by the ponytail, and then his hand was around my face, covering my mouth. I elbowed backward, jabbing his ribcage to make him grunt. The thinner guy in front of me moved forward and I kicked out, barely grazing his thigh as he jumped away. The older guy pulled me hard against his body, surprisingly strong as he pinned my arms. That’s when I lost it. I let my body go heavy as I flailed my legs and thrashed my head back and forth. The old guy cursed low. His friend swung out with his free hand and punched my stomach below where the guy held me.
My body lurched inward and I couldn’t take in a breath through my nose. The older guy took this as an opportunity to lift his hand from my mouth and smack the side of my face as hard as he could. Stinging, blinding pain rang out, and his hand was over my mouth again. I finally regained my breath, huffing through my nose and letting a muffled scream die on his palm.
“Shut the hell up,” whispered the skinny man, keeping his distance and brandishing the bat. “Or you’re dead.”
“Amber!” Remy’s voice split the air. She stood at the corner of the building, staring with huge eyes. And then she was gone, screaming, “Tater!”
“Fuck,” muttered the older man at my ear. “How many of there are you?”
I couldn’t think. My face was swelling on one side. He never took his hand from my mouth to let me answer. I tried to stomp down on his foot, but he wore hard boots, and he laughed at my effort.
“They had two cars,” said the younger man.
“No matter.” A tell-tale click sounded in my ear just before cold steel touched my temple. “It’s all ours now. Get ready, Rick.” I felt my last reserves of energy draining as my body went rigid with terror. This could not be happening.
Seconds later, the pounding of feet hitting the ground filled the air before their bodies came skidding around the corner. All at once, as my friends took in the scene, their hands went up. I stared at Rylen and nearly passed out at the look of sheer panic on his face. Remy stood in the back.
Rylen took a cautious step forward, his hands still up. “Hold on now.”
“You shut your mouth and listen up,” the man named Rick shouted. “If you want your gal back safe and sound, here’s what you’re gonna do. First, drop your car keys on the ground.”
“The keys are in the vehicles,” Devon said with care.
“Is that so? I’ll have to check that out for myself. Right now, every one of you’s gonna walk down that road with your hands on your head.”
Rylen stepped forward, holding his hands higher.
