her.
"Uh-uh. He said 'The Beginning'," Buddy clarified.
Elvis was paying attention to the conversation, but his eyes kept straying toward the broken man whose bandage was already turning pink at the thickest spots. Elvis had been the one holding the wounded arm throughout the bandaging and his hands were tinged with the same rust color as most of Alek’s upper body. He was slowly cleaning the blood off with his sweat drenched bandana as Amanda talked.
"We lived in Wyoming," she began, "Not too far from Montana. No kids. Not many friends because we lived out in the country. If I wasn't so stubborn we'd have come north long before we did. Alek kept saying that we should, but I didn't want to leave our home."
Her voice had taken on a jerky monotone that Richie understood, but didn't really like. Regrets could be so painful that you had to separate the emotion from them or you'd drive yourself crazy. He could relate, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.
"We've been walking for months. We were living in our basement before that, but the food and water were running out. I finally gave in and we left. Alek said that we had to get as far north as we could. He said we'd go to Santa's damned workshop if we could have found it. I don't know if he was right or not.
"This place was full of supplies, so we stayed for the last couple of days to rest. We were just going to check out the area for another place and come back tonight, but we ran into some of those... people."
"What people?" Richie asked, although he had a fairly good idea as to what the answer was going to be.
"We think they're cannibals," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "I think they wanted to eat us."
Elvis looked up sharply, but looked back at Alek after a few seconds. He knew about the cannibals. They all did.
"They didn't say anything when they were walking toward us," Amanda continued, "That's what tipped Alek off, I think. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me back this way and told me to run. As soon as we started running they started shooting at us and chasing. I didn't even know Alek was shot until we were almost back here."
"How many?" Buddy asked, "And how did you outrun them."
"Eight or ten, I think. We didn't outrun them. We got around a curve and got behind some cars. Alek saw a trunk that was open and we got in. We waited in there for a while, until I didn't hear anyone anymore. We came back here and he managed to get down the stairs before he passed out," she said, looking at her husband, "He was so strong."
"He'd better be strong," Richie said, "He lost a lot of blood from the sound of it."
"How far away from here were you when you hid?" Buddy asked her, "Do you know how long it took to get here?"
"An hour? Maybe a little less."
"That's not good," Buddy said, his eyes meeting Richie's, "That means they aren't too far away."
Richie checked the time before saying anything. He motioned toward the packs and Elvis went to work unpacking.
"Won't make any difference," Richie told his friend, "Sunrise should be happening now. Unless they have the world's biggest sunbrella, they aren't coming today."
"Does it stay cool down here?" Elvis asked the woman.
"As cool as it is right now," she answered.
"How hot is it, Richie?"
When Richie checked his thermometer, he was astonished. He hadn't really noticed the ambient temperature of the basement due to all of the excitement. When he looked up at his friends, there were tears in his eyes. The thermo hadn't read less than eighty-degrees underground in a very long time.
"It's seventy-eight," he said, quietly.
"Fuck you," Buddy said, reaching for the thermometer and reading it himself.
"Yeah," Richie said, grinning, "Fuck me."
"It's cooler," Elvis whispered as a smile sprouted on his lips.
"Thank God," Richie said, covering his face with the palms of his blood stained hands.
***
They ate leftovers from the night before, opening the re-sealable dehydration bags with matching grimaces, and
"Uh-uh. He said 'The Beginning'," Buddy clarified.
Elvis was paying attention to the conversation, but his eyes kept straying toward the broken man whose bandage was already turning pink at the thickest spots. Elvis had been the one holding the wounded arm throughout the bandaging and his hands were tinged with the same rust color as most of Alek’s upper body. He was slowly cleaning the blood off with his sweat drenched bandana as Amanda talked.
"We lived in Wyoming," she began, "Not too far from Montana. No kids. Not many friends because we lived out in the country. If I wasn't so stubborn we'd have come north long before we did. Alek kept saying that we should, but I didn't want to leave our home."
Her voice had taken on a jerky monotone that Richie understood, but didn't really like. Regrets could be so painful that you had to separate the emotion from them or you'd drive yourself crazy. He could relate, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.
"We've been walking for months. We were living in our basement before that, but the food and water were running out. I finally gave in and we left. Alek said that we had to get as far north as we could. He said we'd go to Santa's damned workshop if we could have found it. I don't know if he was right or not.
"This place was full of supplies, so we stayed for the last couple of days to rest. We were just going to check out the area for another place and come back tonight, but we ran into some of those... people."
"What people?" Richie asked, although he had a fairly good idea as to what the answer was going to be.
"We think they're cannibals," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "I think they wanted to eat us."
Elvis looked up sharply, but looked back at Alek after a few seconds. He knew about the cannibals. They all did.
"They didn't say anything when they were walking toward us," Amanda continued, "That's what tipped Alek off, I think. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me back this way and told me to run. As soon as we started running they started shooting at us and chasing. I didn't even know Alek was shot until we were almost back here."
"How many?" Buddy asked, "And how did you outrun them."
"Eight or ten, I think. We didn't outrun them. We got around a curve and got behind some cars. Alek saw a trunk that was open and we got in. We waited in there for a while, until I didn't hear anyone anymore. We came back here and he managed to get down the stairs before he passed out," she said, looking at her husband, "He was so strong."
"He'd better be strong," Richie said, "He lost a lot of blood from the sound of it."
"How far away from here were you when you hid?" Buddy asked her, "Do you know how long it took to get here?"
"An hour? Maybe a little less."
"That's not good," Buddy said, his eyes meeting Richie's, "That means they aren't too far away."
Richie checked the time before saying anything. He motioned toward the packs and Elvis went to work unpacking.
"Won't make any difference," Richie told his friend, "Sunrise should be happening now. Unless they have the world's biggest sunbrella, they aren't coming today."
"Does it stay cool down here?" Elvis asked the woman.
"As cool as it is right now," she answered.
"How hot is it, Richie?"
When Richie checked his thermometer, he was astonished. He hadn't really noticed the ambient temperature of the basement due to all of the excitement. When he looked up at his friends, there were tears in his eyes. The thermo hadn't read less than eighty-degrees underground in a very long time.
"It's seventy-eight," he said, quietly.
"Fuck you," Buddy said, reaching for the thermometer and reading it himself.
"Yeah," Richie said, grinning, "Fuck me."
"It's cooler," Elvis whispered as a smile sprouted on his lips.
"Thank God," Richie said, covering his face with the palms of his blood stained hands.
***
They ate leftovers from the night before, opening the re-sealable dehydration bags with matching grimaces, and
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