Charges (37 page)

30

The crossing between Pennsylvania and West Virginia was empty and devoid of any type of security. Vincenzo made it to the next state without incident, blowing past some tract housing and a low-slung building called the State Line Grocery. A Miller Lite truck sat in the parking lot, its storage bays open and empty. Several men milled around the truck, and Vincenzo had the distinct impression they were surrounded by hundreds of empty beer cans.

Welcome to West Virginia
.

The men turned and watched the black beast rocket past as sixty miles per hour. One raised a can of beer in salute.

Both of the kids were conked out again. He had discovered that Daniel had a strong preference for macaroni and cheese, and there were two containers of Yoo-Hoo in his spiky orange backpack.

Vincenzo had given him one, but the kid began slapping himself. Vincenzo grabbed Daniel’s small wrists and held them tightly until the rage passed. After that, the boy ate his mac and cheese without further complaint. Gabby was less finicky. She wanted a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, but she did ask him to cut off the crusts. He did as she requested then tried to feed the crusts to Daniel. The boy ate half of one then proclaimed, “All done,” and handed them back. Vincenzo had eaten the remaining crusts himself.

With the kids asleep, Vincenzo had some time to himself. He knew he had a severe case of the shakes awaiting him once they pulled off for the night. The things he had gone through in the past hours—a gunfight with three armed men, taking on two kids he didn’t want and likely couldn’t care for, crashing through a hasty barricade set up by more armed individuals who shot at him—were more than he had ever wanted to experience. He had always considered himself to be a solid sort, but recent events had left him convinced he was only steps away from melting into a whimpering pussy.

You want to see Jessie and Ben again, champ?
that little voice inside him said.
Then suck it up. And at least tell yourself the truth. You’re not a “solid sort” at all. You’re a fucking beta male who made millions packaging up other people’s work and selling it with your name all over it.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” he muttered.

Don’t worry, champ,
the little voice said with a snicker.
If there’s a way for that to happen, you’ll find it at the rate you’re going.

The scenery wasn’t much different from the sights in western Pennsylvania, though the homes had taken on a decidedly run-down appearance. Even though he was still in farm country, it seemed every other dwelling was a rundown, ramshackle hovel. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see outhouses with half-moons carved in their wooden doors. There was remarkably little traffic, but that didn’t concern him at the moment. With over three quarters of a tank of fuel, he didn’t plan on stopping again until it was time to sleep.

Passing through the one-horse town of Valley Grove, he saw another operational vehicle. A man sat astride a green and yellow riding lawn mower. He wore a greasy baseball cap, a light-blue T-shirt, jeans, and hardy boots. He nodded curtly as the Blazer sped past, and Vincenzo automatically waved back.

Okay, that was different. But hey, at least the guy has a set of wheels.

The downtown area consisted of a mostly windowless diner and a row of twenty or so houses, all on the right side of the street. There were some people about, and they looked up as the Blazer roared down the road. Some waved, but others cast hard looks at the vehicle. Vincenzo pressed down on the accelerator a little harder, and Valley Grove became a memory.

He drove over a small bridge, and on the other side, a ponderously fat black woman lounged outside a weathered bungalow-style home. She sat on a severely distressed lawn chair beneath a gigantic pink umbrella. She raised her hand and wriggled her fat fingers at him as if she were a dainty young lady trying to catch the attention of a gentleman she fancied. Her huge bosom was second in size only to the breadth of her thighs, which her bright-green shift did little to conceal.

Farther down the street was a bar called the Eagle’s Den. Men and women sat outside on stools and chairs. Several of them got to their feet as the Blazer approached, and one man started waving his arms almost frantically. Vincenzo floored it and drifted to the left, giving them a wide berth. As he ripped past, a younger man actually tried to run into the street and block his path. He flipped Vincenzo the bird and pulled a hand gun from the small of his back. The other men rushed over and apparently calmed him down, as he did not shoot.

###

Crossing over into Ohio was a little more stressful as Vincenzo had to wind through the small city of Wheeling. There was ample foot and bicycle traffic, and the appearance of the Blazer brought no shortage of admirers. He had to trundle through the crowds at some intersections, and there were plenty of armed folks in the vicinity. Both kids were awake, and Gabby stared out her window with big eyes. A pall of smoke hung in the air, but from cooking as opposed to looting. A uniformed policeman manning a street corner held up one finger. Vincenzo braked and cranked down his window.

The cop approached with a smile. “Thanks for taking the time to talk. Where you headed?”

“Passing through to Ohio,” Vincenzo said.

“Is that your final destination?” Behind him, other people moseyed over to eye the Blazer.

“Listen, Officer, I don’t want to be rude, but I have young kids with me, and I don’t want to stop,” Vincenzo said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” the cop asked, stepping closer.

“Because people have tried to kill us to take my vehicle, and I’m not really inclined to let that happen.” As he spoke, Vincenzo reached for the Bi-Tone .45. Instead of a mechanical safety like his Beretta, the Springfield had a grip and trigger safety. As soon as the weapon was in his hand and his finger was on the trigger, it was ready to shoot. He placed the barrel on the door arm rest. It was loaded with Hornady Critical Duty jacketed hollow points, which would definitely give an attacker pause. What Vincenzo didn’t know was if the ammunition would pass through the door and strike someone on the other side. “That’s close enough to talk,” he said. “Any closer, and I’m going to think you have something else on your mind.”

The policeman stopped and put his right hand on his service weapon. “Hey, let’s not have any mistakes here. I just want to know how things are outside the city, friend. I see you have children, and I’m not going to try to take your vehicle from you.”

“That’s fine. Do us both a favor, and don’t break leather. Please.” Vincenzo nodded toward the man’s weapon.

The cop didn’t take his hand off the butt of his weapon, but he did maintain a diplomatic tone. “No one’s going to try to take your possessions, friend. I know these are desperate times, but that’s not how we do business here. Like I said, I just wanted to get an idea of what’s going on in the territory you’ve passed through. That’s all.”

“Sorry, Officer. All I can tell you is that things suck badly from New York to West Virginia. I’d really like to be on my way now.”

“May I see both your hands, please?”

“You may not, but I’ll be happy to show you my tail lights. I only want to pass through to Ohio, and I’ve had more than a little bit of trouble just getting this far. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not doing anything other than leaving now. Your move.”

“You’ll be able to pass through. People might be interested in your ride. They might want you to give them a lift. Are you willing to do that?”

“I’m not. Sorry.”

“You know, you’ve got a pair of brass ones, mister,” the policeman said. “Things are going to hell. People need help. We all have to pitch in and do what we can.”

Vincenzo thought about pointing at Daniel and Gabby and telling him he was doing just that, but he decided against it. “Every time I try to help, I wind up in trouble,” he said. “I’ve got someplace to be and people to take care of. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

He took his foot off the brake, but then several people jumped in front of the Blazer, blocking its path.

A heavyset man with long graying hair pounded on the hood. “I need a ride! Give me a ride out of here!”

Vincenzo looked at the cop. “See what I mean?”

“Maybe you should open your heart a little to these people,” the cop said.

“Maybe I should just open up the throttle instead. I already told you my story, and I’m not the kind of guy to run over people unless I have need to do so. You can defuse this situation if you want, or you can stand there and count the bodies after I’m gone. Your call.”

A young hipster wearing a turtleneck of all things tried to pull open the passenger door. It was locked, but Vincenzo raised the Springfield and held its sights right on the man’s forehead. The guy’s eyes bugged out, then he ducked and scampered away.

“I got kids in here!” Vincenzo shouted. He glared at the cop. “Do something, you useless fuck!” He punctuated the statement with a press on the accelerator, and the engine roared in response.

The crowd parted, and the cop waved him on. “Go on, get out of here, you lousy bastard!”

Vincenzo nailed it, and the truck’s rear tires chirped as it took off. He leaned on the horn as the Blazer barreled up the street, giving as fair a warning as he could.

###

The crossing into Ohio was a little more sedate. The mounting traffic funneling onto Interstate 70 forced him to travel more slowly. Abandoned vehicles disrupted the flow of traffic, along with copious amounts of pedestrians. Vincenzo found himself moving down a line of bicyclists, motorcyclists, and ATV riders, along with the occasional older vehicle that still ran. Their progress would halt periodically, and he nervously kept the .45 on his lap. During one traffic jam, a young, extremely tanned man with long blond hair jumped out of the Jeep CJ5 ahead of him and hustled back to where Vincenzo sat behind the wheel. Gabby was whining again in the back seat, and Daniel was fixated on the gyrating hanger in his hand. The blond-haired guy stopped a few feet away from Vincenzo’s window and motioned for him to lower it. Vincenzo cautiously cranked it down an inch.

“Hey, man, sorry to bother you. You wouldn’t happen to have a smoke, would you?”

Vincenzo started to tell him he didn’t smoke, then he remembered the packs of Winstons in the center console. “I can help you out.” He popped open the console and shook out a pair of cigarettes. He stuck them out the window.

The guy’s smile grew to a grin almost a yard wide. “Dude, you’re the best! What do I owe you?” he asked, taking the cigarettes.

“Just your good will.”

“You wanna travel together?” the kid asked. “Me and my guys, we’re headed for Lansing.”

“Not going that way, but thanks for the offer.”

“Okay, sure. You want anything at all?”

Vincenzo shook his head. “We’re good, man. Thanks.” He nodded to the traffic ahead, which was starting to move again. “Better hop back in your ride.”

“All right. Thanks again, man!” The blond ran back to the Jeep then held up a hand as he rooted around in the back for a moment. He pulled out a box and sprinted back to the Blazer. He stopped next to the driver’s door, still grinning, and held up a box of Entenmann’s doughnuts. “I saw you have kids, man. I thought they might like a taste of the old world! They’re still good. We have, like, six boxes of these things.”

Vincenzo smiled and cranked down the window. “Cigarettes and doughnuts? You guys don’t want to live for long, huh?”

“Hey, we’ll be fine.” The young man passed over the doughnuts. “Besides, the kids might love ’em.”