Milepost 291

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Just before the match burned down to a tiny red dot, DeVontay saw other figures behind Rooster. He had the impression there were maybe three others, haggard and frantic-eyed. Then the light winked out and the room fell into darkness, with only the faint haze from the window providing illumination. Their breathing was loud and labored, as if they’d been running.

“You broke your word,” Rooster said. “You said you were one of us.”

“Everybody left,” DeVontay said, refusing to allow fear into his voice. “Zaps overran the compound. I didn’t see any reason to stay there and be killed.”

“That compound was all we had left.”

“Then why did you leave?” He couldn’t see Rooster’s face, but the barrel of his gun glinted in the weak light. It was still pointed at DeVontay.

“Maybe I should blow your brains out right here,” Rooster said. “Ain’t no room in this world for traitors.”

DeVontay would have welcomed death, but now he had not just Stephen but a whole group counting on him. In Before, when he’d been a kid in South Philly, he never belonged—not on sports teams, not in the street gangs, not even in his family. He could hardly accept this image of himself as someone who would sacrifice for others, but that’s exactly what he’d done, almost against his will.

Because you keep finding people worth fighting for.

And the best way he could help Stephen, Kiki, and the others would be to stall for time so they could escape. But what were their chances out there alone? Maybe he should tell Rooster about his group, so that they might provide protection and shelter. After all, Rooster had considered them valuable enough to feed and shelter, even if he’d treated them like human livestock.

But Rooster’s voice contained a dangerous edge, like that of a man walked to the end of a gangplank. If he’d been unhinged before, watching his utopian vision crumble might have snapped his last few tethers of reality.

“How many others got away?” DeVontay asked. “Maybe in the morning we can get them together and take back the compound.”

One of the unseen men said, “We’ve been watching the road. You didn’t come that way.”

“I came through the woods. Zaps were blocking the gate.”

“Where’s your gun?”

“Lost it.”

“What about the women and kids?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess they’re still there, if the Zapheads didn’t get them.”

“Bullshit,” Rooster said. “You wouldn’t have left them there.”

“Well, you did.” Goading Rooster was a dangerous game, but he’d already lost this hand anyway. His best chance was to bluff his way into an extra round.

“He was best buddies with one of those boys,” said a woman whose voice he recognized. Angelique’s. “Like he knew him from before the compound. He wouldn’t have left that boy there.”

DeVontay wondered if Stephen could hear the conversation. Hopefully the boy was already running back to Kiki and the others. But he was worried that Stephen would consider running a cowardly act. Maybe DeVontay had proven to be a worse role model than he thought.

“Shut up, Angelique,” Rooster said. “If you had stayed there like I told you, we’d know where everybody was.”

“If I had stayed, I’d probably be Zaphead bait by now,” she said. “But they were all alive when I left. And this guy was playing Clint Eastwood, trying to lead them to safety.”

Rooster lit another match, and this time the globe of light revealed Rooster’s sneering, mad face. “So where are they?”

“I guess they’re all dead,” DeVontay said. “When we hit the woods, Zaps were everywhere. When I heard the screams, I just started running.”

“So you were a hero and then you were chickenshit.” Rooster pushed the muzzle of his gun against DeVontay’s forehead just as the match extinguished. “Which are you now?”

“Chickenshit,” DeVontay said, without emotion. The afterimage of orange flares danced across his vision as darkness returned.

“Pop him, Rooster,” said an unseen man.

“Right, dumbass. This quiet, in the middle of the night, the Zapheads could hear the shot from miles around.”

“Just let me go,” DeVontay said “I’ll keep moving, and that will draw any Zaps that might be around. I’ve done it before.”

“Oh, want to play hero again? Well, I think you’re bullshitting instead of chickenshitting.”

“Shh,” said Angelique. “I heard something.”

They all fell silent, and DeVontay thought his heart might boom like a kettle drum in the small, dark kitchen. Because he’d heard something, too, and it sounded like Stephen’s voice.

Rooster moved past DeVontay and his silhouette filled the window as he looked out. “Don’t see nothing,” he whispered.

“If it’s Zapheads, you better not leave me again,” Angelique said.

“Quit your bitching,” Rooster said. “You’re getting to be more trouble than you’re worth. Washburn, get back there and check the other side of the house.”

A set of footsteps shuffled slowly through the house, fingers feeling along the wall. Washburn must have bumped into some furniture because he hissed a “Shit” before continuing.

“DeVontay!” Stephen loud-whispered from outside.

Be quiet, DeVontay silently pleaded, but it was too late.

“It’s one of the brats,” Angelique said.

Rooster jabbed his rifle into DeVontay’s side hard enough to bruise his ribs and whispered, “Open the door and tell him to come in.”

DeVontay felt behind him and eased his way along the counter. The back door featured a high, narrow pane of glass so he could locate it. He paused with his palm on the handle, but Rooster poked him again, this time in the spinal cord, and cinders of pain flew up the chimney of his central nervous system.

DeVontay opened the door and yelled, “Stephen, run!”

Then an avalanche of red and black shards rumbled down the slopes of his skull and his vision went gray. He fell to his knees, blood trickling down his scalp. Even while fighting for consciousness after the blow to his head, he had the presence of mind to grab Rooster’s legs as the man tried to step over him and go outside. Rooster cursed and tumbled down a flight of several wooden steps, and another man stepped up to the doorway and lifted his rifle.

DeVontay looked up, head reeling, and saw Stephen’s diminutive silhouette bobbing through the weeds as he fled back to the forest. The gray mist had nearly swallowed him already.

Good boy, DeVontay thought.

A muzzle flash above him was followed by a sudden thunderclap. Stephen dropped into the weeds and DeVontay’s heart squeezed in rage. He scissor-kicked with his legs and threw the gunman above him off balance.

Rooster shouted, “Don’t shoot, you idiot, the Zappers will be all over us.”

“You said to take them all down,” the man said, skipping away from DeVontay’s reach. “Anybody who runs is a traitor, you said.”

“You don’t need to kill them,” Rooster said, getting to his feet. “Come on. The little shit will lead us right to the others.”

DeVontay half-rolled and half-crawled down the rest of the steps until he was wallowing in the wet grass. Even though he could hardly tell up from down, he tried to rise.

A muddy boot pressed against his cheek. “New plan,” Rooster said. “We’re going to Milepost 291, and you’re leading the way. That son-of-a-bitch Franklin Wheeler probably has a paradise up there, from what I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” DeVontay said, his words muffled with his mouth pressed against the grass.

“The boy told us all about it. We need a new compound since the Zaps took ours.”

DeVontay hoped Kiki had followed his instructions and fled at the sound of the gunshot. But they wouldn’t get far, and they had little chance after that. “I won’t help you unless you take them all with you.”

“Deal.” Rooster yanked DeVontay to his feet and shoved him in the direction that Stephen had fled. “Stay awake, guys,” he called to his underlings. “Zaps might be on the prowl.”

DeVontay was relieved to see Stephen’s head rise up from the weeds, then duck down again. The shot must have missed. And Stephen was smart enough to stay out of sight. DeVontay just hoped the boy would obey the orders he’d given.

He’s just a boy. I can help the others more by staying with Rooster than by dying right now.

Or maybe that was justification imposed by his fear. Sacrificing for others had been thrust upon him, but martyrdom was a choice. And a role he wasn’t ready to accept. He headed up the meadow, Rooster right behind him.

Out in the hazy moonlight, the mist rising and collecting, he could see that Rooster had four others with him, including Angelique. That was a lot of firepower. Angelique whined about the wet and cold but Rooster told her to quit bitching.

“Let’s get there before the Zaps do,” Rooster said, shoving DeVontay forward.

“So how do you know Franklin Wheeler?” Stephen had likely told Rooster about Rachel and her connection to Franklin, but DeVontay hoped she was far away from these maniacs.

“Used to read his Internet posts. I tried to hook up with him, start a branch of the Patriot Party, but he played it like he was hot shit on a silver platter. Like he was too good for the rest of us freedom fighters.”

“I’m not even sure the compound exists. Feels like chasing a mirage to me.”

“Some of my men spotted him in the valley. We were trying to lure him in and take him out, but then the Zaps attacked.”

“With everybody dead, there’s room for all of us,” DeVontay said, peering into the mist. The forest was invisible now, and so was the house behind them. They slogged through the wet, cold smoke of the river valley that seemed to stretch forever in all directions.

“It’s a Zaphead world now, boy,” Rooster said. “But I’m going to get my piece of it. One way or another.”

“Just take care of these kids and I’ll take you to Milepost 291,” DeVontay said, moving faster, worried about Kiki, Stephen, and the others. “We’re all in it together. We’re all that’s left.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rooster said. “Live free or die.”