3 Days (7 page)

“Nope. I just like to hike.” No sense in telling him what was going on, after all, Blaine said not to trust anyone.

It was obvious that he didn’t buy what I was selling him, but he gave up on the interrogation anyway. “If you ain’t gonna eat, you gotta leave,” he added, pulling a slice of pie off the pie stand and setting it on a plate in front of me. “Two dollars and fifty cents.” I put the money on the counter and began to nibble at my pie as slowly as I could. I was going to need to take microscopic bites to make it last until dawn.

When night fell, the man behind the counter began lighting candles at each table. Grateful that he had not decided to close the diner because of the power outage, I settled myself into the corner booth with my plate of half eaten pie in front of me, and my bag beside me on the bench. Noticing the owner was keeping a close eye on me, I propped my fork in my hand and balanced it on the edge of my plate. With my arm on the table, I settled my head into the corner of the wall and shut my eyes. The owner must not have cared as much as he let on because it must have been a couple of hours before I was awakened by the sound of glass shattering at the front of the diner. I heard shouting from the owner and then the sound of a shotgun going off. In a panic, I grabbed my bag and ran for the very back of the diner behind the kitchen, where the walk-in freezer stood. I crawled into it as quietly as possible and slowly clicked it shut. There were two rows of shelves on the right side, on the farthest one, at the bottom, there was a space between the first shelf and the floor. It was just big enough for a person to cram into. I stuffed my bag under it, crouching down enough to squeeze through, then pulled the largest box I could find in front of it to cover me.

I lay there for an eternity. It had to have been that long by the way it felt. Barely allowing myself to breathe, I sat in silence. Somebody was shot, and I was pretty sure it was the owner of the diner. But I wasn’t going to poke my head around and ask. Just then, I heard footsteps coming toward the outside of the walk-in. There were two voices, muffled enough that I couldn’t make out what they were saying. That was when I heard a sound that made my heart start racing and put my stomach in a knot. The latch to the walk-in was being released. The door creaked open, and I heard the shuffle of four feet coming toward me. I held my breath.
Oh my GOD
!

I prayed that the box was keeping me hidden as well as it was blocking my view of who had walked into the freezer. The men — I had come to the conclusion they were men — began pulling things off the shelves. They completed their task in total silence, stopping to listen for anybody that might be stupid enough to interrupt. I still wasn’t breathing. Finally, they left, slamming the walk-in door so violently I thought it might have come off its hinges. Allowing myself to breathe again, I listened carefully for any indication that they had left. When I was sure they were gone, I pushed myself out of my hole and set up camp in the freezer. Because of the power being off all day, I could handle the slight cold that was left. And whoever had been in there before had cleaned out everything on the shelves that was worth taking. There was no chance they would come back tonight. Just for safety sake, I slept close to the hole.

Chapter 17

When the sun rose the next morning, it peeked through a crack between a damaged portion of the freezer door and bounced off of the aluminum wall, hitting me right in the eyes. It reminded me that I had survived one day, and I only had two more to go. Walking wasn’t going to get me there in time, I needed wheels.

Walking out to the front of the counter in the dining area, I found the owner lying face down on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding his body. I felt my stomach lurch and could taste the bile rising in my throat. Swallowing hard, I reminded myself that there wasn’t any time for being squeamish, I had to get moving. Doing a search of the diner, I saw that it was covered in shattered glass. The two large doors were completely annihilated. I ran outside to look for something I could use as transportation, anything with wheels. I saw a bike leaned up against the side of the building, upon closer examination, I noticed it was missing the back tire. No dice. I spun around again and then I saw it. An old car, two doors, with rusted bumpers was parked on the side of the building. It looked like it had been a teal color at one time, but the paint was almost completely worn off in most places, and rusted through in some others. It didn’t matter to me what it looked like, as long as it moved!

Praying that the owner trusted enough to leave his keys in the ignition, I flung open the door. No luck. I needed to head back into the diner to search for the keys. Taking care not to run over the owner, I leaped behind the counter and began to turn the place upside down.
Do everything you can to make it to Blaine’s
, I kept reciting in my head. I checked the drawers, no keys. I checked the cash register, which was as old as dirt and easy to break into, no keys. The kitchen, the freezer, the bathroom, all with no keys. There was only one place left to check, and I was dreading it. He had been lying in a puddle of his own blood all night, and his clothes were soaked through. There were six pockets I would have to check. I started with his back pockets just to be sure. Then I moved on to his apron pockets and got lucky. I grabbed the chain and cleaned it up with a towel, along with my hands, then sprinted for the car.

Putting the key in the ignition, I prayed I had enough gas to get farther than I did last time. The engine groaned and roared, followed by a loud chugging as it continued running. The gas gauge showed empty, but old cars sometimes did that even when the tank was full, so I put it in gear and rolled out of the diner parking lot. I tried to forget what I had seen and focused on ways to survive the next two days and one night.

Once on the interstate, I made it sixty more miles before the car began to sputter and lose speed. I knew that sound. I was out of gas. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, I grabbed my pack. Before heading out on foot, I searched the trunk of the car for any supplies that I might need.

In the trunk, I found a pair of needle-nosed pliers, a crowbar, and a tire iron. I knew I could use the crowbar but didn’t think it was practical to attempt carrying it while on foot, so I shoved the pliers into the front pocket of my pack and zipped it closed. Then I took off on a jogging pace. Lack of sleep the night before was wearing on my energy. I couldn’t run as often as yesterday, and I was moving a lot slower. This was going to cut it if I only had a day and a half to get to Blaine.
Three days
.

I came to a little stop off the side of the interstate that had a small strip mall, gas station, and a souvenir shop. I didn’t need supplies, but I was still in desperate need of another set of wheels. It wasn’t until I was almost completely up the hill that I noticed the place was abandoned. Every window was shattered completely, and the contents of each place were thrown everywhere. It looked similar to the scene at the diner, but, as far as I could tell, there were no dead bodies.
Oh please, let there be no dead bodies
, I begged wordlessly.

Chapter 18

Cautiously, I crossed the parking lot to the strip mall. Every window was shattered, making the space seem like an empty shell. “Hello?” I crowed, wondering if it was in vain. “Anybody here?”

Then, I heard a shuffling of feet on broken glass from the back of the store, “Yeah, we’re here.” Coming through the back door of the shop, a woman and a child — probably about the age of ten — walked in. The child was blonde, and her hair cut in a bob to her chin, wearing pink overalls. She was holding a large dustpan, while the woman began using a push broom to sweep up the shards of glass. Staring down at the woman, I realized she couldn’t be any older than mid-twenties. If she wasn’t the little girl’s big sister, then she must have had her at a very young age.

“Just tryin’ to pick up after that tornado that ripped through here last night,” she said.

I couldn’t recall a storm last night, but I had been sleeping in a huge freezer all night, so it was a possibility. “Tornado?” I replied.

“Well, yeah! What else could there be that would do all of this damage?” she croaked, a bit of irritation in her voice. “First, the power, now this? It’s going to take all week to fix this stuff. I can’t even get the phones to work, so I can call the insurance adjuster to come out and start a claim. You don’t happen to have a cell do you?” she asked me with hope in her eyes.

“No, sorry,” I lied. My cell was useless anyway. Time was running out for the day, and I needed to find a ride. After canvassing the store for a minute, I realized what type of shop it was. I was standing in the middle of a store that sold odds and ends of sorts. They had Route 66 coffee mugs, various Missouri sports team bobble heads, and tshirts with “real men wear camo” printed on the front. I wasn’t going to find anything that I needed in this place. I decided to walk along the strip mall and check out the other shops. I had already spent way too much time in one place and was losing daylight, fast.

The first two stores were useless, a candy shop, men’s wear, and the third was a novelty adult store, definitely wouldn’t be able to get any use of that. It wasn’t until I came to the fourth, and final, shop on the strip mall that my heart skipped a beat. It was a Yamaha motor bike shop. Something about the store struck me as odd. Not a single window was broken, not even a scratch. Every shop in the area sported smashed windows, and inventory that had been thrown around, except this one. Knowing the destruction wasn’t caused by a tornado, I couldn’t help but wonder why someone would destroy all of the other shops and not even come close to touching this one.

I pressed my face up to the glass and cupped my hands to the sides of my eyes to look in. The floor had a small show room, but there were three dirt bikes on display. On one of the bikes, I could see the key in the ignition. It was bright green, with a silver strip that ran down the entire length of the body. I had never driven a dirt bike before, but I was willing to fake competence in order to make it to Blaine in time. I looked around the parking lot. Across the lot, the little girl was playing on the sidewalk, her mother hauling buckets of broken glass to the dumpster. If I was going to make my move, I needed to do it now. Blaine had told me to do anything that was necessary to get to him in three days, and I was about to take him up on it. I ran across the lot and walked through the trashed store front of the gas station’s convenience store. “Hello?!” I called, making sure nobody was there.

“They aren’t here. They shut the station down last week. Getting ready to sell it,” called a voice from the other side of the lot. It was the woman, standing by the dumpster. She then turned and walked back inside, kid in tow.

Without responding, I stormed into the store, found a tire iron in one of the sale aisles and made my way to the Yamaha shop. When I was about three feet from the glass I gripped the tire iron like a baseball bat and reared back for a swing. As soon as I was close enough, I used all my strength and forced the rod through the plane of glass in the door. No alarm rang, I didn’t expect it to. With no power, even the best alarm systems wouldn’t work. As I was using the tire iron to scrape the sharp edges off of the sides, I heard a voice screaming from across the lot, “HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” I looked behind me long enough to see the woman running across the lot, toward me. I ran inside and unlocked the large glass panel door, which they used to get the bikes through, shoving it open. Swiping a helmet out of the display case, I shoved my head into it. Just when I was mounting the green dirt bike, the woman came charging in, planting herself in the path of the bike’s front tire. “You can’t just break in and take this!” She was furious, but I could see the apprehension in her expression. She was frustrated that her store was destroyed, angry that I was breaking into this shop, and terrified that I might have a gun. Seeing that the sun was starting to set, I knew I needed to get out of here and find shelter for another night.

While flustering to figure out how to start the bike, I responded, “You can call the cops if you want. Oh wait, the phones don’t work. Haven’t you noticed that
no
phones are working, not even cells? Something is happening right now that even I can’t explain, but I can tell you something for sure,” I motioned my hand to all the broken shops in the lot, “all this was
not
caused by a tornado.” I found the kick start on the bike and bit down hard with my heel. The bike roared at first, humming as it went into idle. I raised my voice over the sound of the motor. “There is something bad, all around. They’ll kill you if you confront them. I have seen it happen. You need to get your little girl home now and hide!”

She shook her head in disagreement. “You’re crazy,” she shouted over the engine. “I don’t believe you. Criminals will say anything to get away.” She was right. It did sound crazy, especially when I said it aloud.

I pulled the bike forward at a crawling pace until I had gotten it out to the lot, the woman following. “I don’t have time to sit here and convince you, and I don’t know much about it myself, but I can tell you this. It isn’t safe at night.” And with that I sped off, weaving and wobbling as I took the exit back to the interstate. I was relieved to find that there was at least a half tank of gas in the bike. These bikes had been known to get lots of miles to the gallon, and it would be enough to get me to Blaine’s for sure. It was getting dark, and I needed to find a place to sit for the night.

Chapter 19

Making the decision to get off of the interstate and take the back roads was the best idea I’d had yet. There were houses, stores, and shelters of all sorts, along the side of the road. On the horizon, the sun threatened to touch the earth, so I pulled over to evaluate my surroundings. There was a gas station about a half mile up the road, a diner directly to its right, and an abandoned shack about halfway between me and them. I opted for the shack. Remembering the night at the diner, how the intruders took supplies from the freezer, I figured an empty place would be the safest at night. Luckily, it was just big enough for me to bring the bike inside with me. Sitting on the weed overgrown, dirt, floor of the hand built shed, I pulled my bag onto my lap. Slipping the letter, that Blaine had written me, out of the side pocket, I let my eyes adjust to the dim light of the sun setting and read it again.