Chapter 6 #2
Rodney’s hands were balled into fists at his sides. “Think so. Even if I knew how to fix it, I don’t have any tools.”
Don gripped Rodney’s elbow, comfort for them both. “We still have a ways to go.”
Rodney hung his head. “Even if we started walking, we wouldn’t make it in time. I don’t even know what the nearest town is.”
“Brief, Washington,” Don said. “It’s a ghost town. Nothing there.”
“And the tower is … what. A hundred miles away?”
“A little over, yes.”
Rodney jerked his arm out of Don’s grip, spinning around.
He slammed his hands on the hood of the RV over and over, teeth bared.
Don could handle this. He’d rather Rodney be angry than dead in the eyes and heart like Amelia.
He wondered where she was, what she was doing.
Was she even still alive, or did she take Rodney’s advice and go to the barn herself?
After all, she’d had two bullets left, or so she’d said.
Don let his husband have his anger, his rage.
It would be unfair to try and take that from him.
All of this was unfair. Every bit of it.
They were close, so close, and this was how it ended?
In failure. On the side of a forgotten road in Washington.
Maybe if they’d gone faster. Maybe if they hadn’t stopped as much as they had, allowed themselves to become distracted by people.
Good people. Bad people. All diversions, and for what?
Yes, they’d seen little pockets of humanity, but what about what they wanted?
What about the reason they’d undertaken this journey in the first place?
“He wouldn’t blame us,” Don finally said. “Not because of this. We tried.”
Rodney scoffed. “Did we? Because it sure as shit feels like we waited until the end of the world to get our asses in gear. We could have done this last year. Or the year before. But no. We waited and waited and waited until we didn’t have a choice.”
“We’re here, aren’t we? Because we chose to be.”
“And it’s still not good enough. We’ve come up short, once again. Aren’t you tired of that feeling? That, no matter what you do, it won’t change a goddamn thing?” Spat out through gritted teeth. Not angry with Don, just … angry.
Don said, “We just need to think. There must be a house around here. Multiple houses. If we can find one, we can find a car. And if we can find a car, we can make it. I know we can. It’ll take time we don’t have but we have to try.”
“It’s weird,” Rodney said, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I’m tired. Exhausted, really. Not a normal tired, either. It’s in my bones.”
“But,” Don said, knowing there was more.
“But,” Rodney said, “I … I don’t know. I feel … almost weightless. Like I’m here, but I have no heft to me.”
“You feel younger,” Don said.
Rodney looked at him, surprised. “How did you…?”
“I do too,” Don said. He reached up and touched his face. Still the same shape: soft, lined with wrinkles. “I don’t feel like I look.”
“You look fine.”
“Thank you, dear. But that’s not what I meant.”
“We’re too old for this shit.”
“Probably.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“Here we are,” Don agreed, kissing his cheek.
Rodney said, “I didn’t know what would happen when we first met.
I didn’t know that it’d be a lifetime. I hoped it would, I think.
At least part of me did. I couldn’t even tell you why.
But there was something about you, something I wanted.
Something I thought I needed. And I was right. I did need you. Still do, in fact.”
“How lucky are we?” Don asked.
Rodney snorted as he stood upright, turning to face his husband. “How do you figure?”
“You said that that’s what the universe is.
Luck and happenstance. There’s no fate, no destiny.
Sometimes it is horrible, devastating. But sometimes, it could lead to a life we couldn’t have predicted.
A good life, even if it hurts. Out of everything in the universe, what were the chances that we’d find each other the way we did? ”
“One in a trillion.”
“Probably not quite that high, but it might as well have been. If it was luck that brought us together, then I think we’re the luckiest people in the world.”
“Even now?” Rodney asked, eyebrows rising up his forehead.
“Even now.”
“That’s—”
“A truck,” Rodney said, eyes going wide.
Don frowned. “What?”
“A truck,” Rodney said again, grabbing Don by the chin and turning his head.
Sure enough, a small truck was driving up the road toward them.
A little Nissan, from the late eighties or early nineties by the look of it.
Faded blue with a spotlight sitting above the driver’s-side mirror.
Ever the protector, Rodney stepped in front of Don, stance wide, arms across his chest. Even at the end of the world, his machismo knew no bounds. What a lovely asshole he was.
The truck stopped about ten feet away from them, the headlights remaining on.
Don couldn’t make out who was inside; the dusty headlights were a tad too bright.
A driver behind the wheel, and someone—something?
—in the passenger seat. The spotlight turned on, shining directly at them.
They flinched, raising their hands to block their eyes.
Don thought of Amy. Of Becca. The family. Pantomime. Amelia. Who would this person prove to be?
The truck turned off. The door opened.
The woman who stepped out seemed as tall as she was wide.
Taller than both Rodney and Don; it was almost impossible how much of her there was stepping outside the small truck.
She looked to be in her forties or fifties, face slightly weathered, dark brown skin, with tight braids against her scalp.
She wore baggy khakis with multiple pockets, a vest over a plaid shirt, and dusty boots.
She whistled once, a sharp burst. A large black-and-brown dog jumped out after her.
A German shepherd mix of some kind, and a beautiful one at that, its coat shiny.
Its pointy ears turned toward them as it got its feet under it, tongue lolling.
Around its middle, a vest of sorts, orange with bulky pockets that looked packed tightly.
The woman raised a hand, cautious. “Hello there, folks. Some car trouble? Thought that might be the case. Saw your headlights from my porch up a ways.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder. “Thought maybe you could use some help.”
“You live out here?” Rodney asked.
“Sure do. Far enough away from everything that I can hear myself think, but not so much that I can’t get supplies when I need them. Have a cabin about half a mile up.” The dog sat at her side, head on a swivel.
“Our RV broke down,” Don said. “We’re trying to get to Copper Mountain.”
The woman whistled, the dog’s ears twitching. “That’s not close. Still got about a hundred and twenty miles to go. Tell you what: If you’d like, I can take a look under the hood. Pretty handy, if I do say so myself. Can’t make any promises, but I can try.”
“Everything is broken,” Don said stupidly.
“It is,” the woman agreed. “Gravity, too, I think.”
“What?” Rodney asked, as he and Don exchanged a glance.
“You don’t feel it? Something changed. I saw rocks floating along the road on the way down here. And when I jumped off the porch, it took me a couple of seconds longer than it should have to reach the ground.”
“That’s why…” Don glanced at Rodney, who nodded but didn’t speak.
The woman watched them curiously. “Yeah, you feel it too, don’t you.
” Not a question. Then, “I’ll be honest, though.
I’m more concerned about the sky. It’s not supposed to look like that.
” She shook her head. “Name’s Jerri. Dog is Naks.
Good girl. She’ll probably sniff your crotches, so have fun with that.
Had to put a weighted vest on her this morning.
Didn’t want her to accidentally fly away. ”
The dog’s tongue lolled out of her mouth happily, as if flying away sounded like a grand old time.
Jerri clapped her hands and said, “Okay! Why don’t you tell me about yourselves while I see what’s what?”
It didn’t take her long to say there was nothing she could do. “See that?” Jerri said, pointing at some part of the engine that Don had no idea about. It all looked the same to him. “Rusted, broken off. You’d need to get it replaced if you want it to start again.”
“Can you fix it?” Rodney asked.
“Nope. And even if I could, there wouldn’t be enough time. Take at least a week. Nah, this is where she stays.” She patted the grille. “Final resting place for the old girl. And she’ll have a front-row seat to whatever happens. A good way to go.”
Don sank to the road, face in his hands. “It can’t end like this. It just can’t.”
“Oh, hey,” Jerri said. “I’m sorry I can’t do more. That’s a tough break.”
Don dropped his hands when he heard the RV door open. Standing with a groan, he looked through the windshield. Rodney was inside, moving between the seats to the rear of the RV. Naks sat on the road next to Jerri, both watching the RV.
“What’s he doing?” Jerri asked.
“I have no idea,” Don said with a sigh.
A few minutes later, Rodney climbed back out of the RV.
He carried two backpacks: his and Don’s.
After closing the RV door, he leaned his head against it.
“You got us this far,” Don heard him say.
“More than I expected. Appreciate that. Sorry it had to end like this.” With that done, he marched to the front of the RV once more, looking determined.
Handing Don his backpack, he said, “If we’re going to go, we need to go now. ”
“You want to walk the rest of the way?” Jerri asked, aghast. “That’s impossible. You’ll never make it in time.”
Don shouldered his backpack. “Have to try. We made a promise.” Speaking of. “Where is—”
“Safe,” Rodney said. “I got him.”