Charges (38 page)

“
Doughnuts
!” Gabby exclaimed, as if on cue.

The man laughed. “See?”

Vincenzo accepted the box then handed over a pack of Winstons. “On the house.”

The guy’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously? These are going to be
huge
trading items, man. You sure you want to give them up?”

“Have a few more. And hey”—Vincenzo held up the box of doughnuts—“it looks like they
are
good for trading, huh?”

“You’re the best, man!” The young man returned to his Jeep.

 
Gabby strained against her seat belt, trying to get a look at the box on the passenger seat. “Can I have doughnut?”

“Doughnut,” Daniel added.

Vincenzo sighed tiredly. “In a little while. Let me get us across the bridge, and we’ll start looking for a place to spend the night.”

###

US 40 and Interstate 70 merged again, and Vincenzo bolted down the thoroughfare as fast as he could reasonably go, leaving a wake of trash swirling behind the Blazer. It was close to dusk, and he needed to find a place to pull over and make camp. Daniel was restless, and Gabby seemed withdrawn.

“Party please,” Daniel said softly.

“Okay. One second, pal.”

It wasn’t at all safe to camp right off the highway, so Vincenzo started looking for an exit. Between some trees, he caught a glimpse of a road paralleling the highway. Another hundred yards farther, he saw it again, peeking out between a break in the bushes that ran along the side of the road. He braked and eased the Blazer off the highway, hoping there wasn’t a ditch or something on the other side. The ground was dry and firm beneath the Blazer’s big tires. A short wire fence separated the road from the wider highway, but he didn’t let it deter him. He just pushed the Blazer’s big bumper right into it, gave the truck a bit of gas, and smashed it flat. He heard it scraping along the bottom of the vehicle, but nothing got hung up.

“Where are we going?” Gabby asked listlessly.

“Looking for a place to stay for the night, sweetie.”

Gabby sniffed. “I miss my daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Vincenzo turned left onto the country road. It deviated north from the highway, which he was happy to leave behind. The countryside was much flatter than it had been in Pennsylvania, though not without hills and dales. He spied a plot of land with a vague trail cutting across it and heading into a thick clump of trees. There was no one about, so he brought the Blazer to a halt.

“Kids, stay right here,” he said, unfastening his seat belt and reaching for the M1A.

“Party, please,” Daniel said. “I want doughnut.”

“Just a little longer, pal,” Vincenzo said as he set the parking brake. He pushed open the door and stepped outside.

The evening was humid, but he heard no gunfire, no voices, and no indications of violence or mayhem. He didn’t really know where he was, other than somewhere in eastern Ohio about a hundred miles from Columbus. He wasn’t surprised there weren’t sounds of discord so far out in the sticks, especially since he was a few miles north of the highway. He eyed the path through the field. It hadn’t been used in a while, but it wasn’t completely overgrown, so the Blazer shouldn’t leave much of a track.

Let’s do it
. He hopped back in the Blazer and edged it onto the trail.

###

He pulled off the trail a few dozen yards into the trees and jockeyed the Blazer around so the front grille was pointing back the way they had come. It was dark inside the small forest but not so much that they couldn’t see easily enough.

“Okay, this is Motel Six for the night,” Vincenzo said.

Despite the repeated bids to wait, Daniel had peed his diaper. Vincenzo was annoyed with the boy’s lack of toilet skills, but there wasn’t much he could do about it other than wipe him down and change him, which he did. He was happy the diaper hadn’t leaked—that could have been a major bummer, as the kid only had three sets of clothes in his little backpack. Also, Daniel couldn’t seem to execute the simplest forms of self-help, aside from drinking from a can or bottle and eating with his fingers. Vincenzo wasn’t geared to be a full-time caregiver, especially at the end of the world.

Which is a shame, because you were
so
good at it when everything was normal,
the snarky little voice in the back of his mind said.

“Doughnut, please,” Daniel said after Vincenzo was finished changing him.

“After dinner,” Vincenzo snapped.

Daniel’s eyes clouded, and Vincenzo regretted his harsh tone. He patted the boy’s shoulder and said, “Sorry, champ. Eat some dinner first, then we’ll have one doughnut. Okay?”

“Doughnut.”

“Soon. Soon.”

Gabby was lethargic and withdrawn. Vincenzo led her around a tree so she could relieve herself. She didn’t want him to be able to see her, but she didn’t want him too far away, either. So Vincenzo gave her with the toilet paper and stood a dozen feet away on the other side of the tree, watching Daniel climb between the front seats of the Blazer. For once, the boy didn’t have the hanger in his hands.

Gabby appeared beside him, holding the toilet paper. “All done.”

Vincenzo took the roll from her and put it under one arm while reaching into his pocket for the bottle of hand sanitizer. “Hold out your hands.” She did as instructed, and Vincenzo squeezed a liberal amount of gel on them. “Rub those together, please.”

“I know what to do,” Gabby said, an indignant tone in her voice.

“Okay. Come on.”

When they got back to the truck, he was annoyed to find that Daniel had torn open the box of doughnuts. Powdered sugar was all over the front seats and center console, not to mention Daniel’s clothes. He looked up at Vincenzo peering in through the open passenger door.

“Doughnut,” Daniel said.

“Uh-oh, you’re in trouble,” Gabby said. “You’re not supposed to eat doughnuts at night.”

Vincenzo took a couple of deep breaths then reached in and pulled Daniel out of the truck. The boy stiffened at the contact, whimpering slightly. Vincenzo brushed off as much of the sugar from the boy’s clothes as he could, then he tried wiping up the inside of the Blazer. With just his bare hands, it was a futile task. He grabbed Daniel’s baby wipes and used one to clean as much of the seats and center console as possible.

“Well, that’s all we need is to have a bunch of ants march in.” Vincenzo checked the box of doughnuts. Daniel had eaten two, and the third in his hand was half gone. “Okay, guys. Let’s have some dinner. Daniel, do you want macaroni and cheese?”

“I want doughnut!” Daniel replied.

“Can I have a doughnut, too?” Gabby asked. “Daniel’s not supposed to have them at night, but I can.” She smiled sweetly.

Vincenzo rolled his eyes. “You can have
one
doughnut... after dinner. Daniel won’t have any more.”

“But he had three already!” Gabby protested.

“And you can eat three, one tonight, two tomorrow. Then you’ll be even. Half a box of doughnuts in one day is a pretty good deal, right?”

Gabby pouted while Daniel finished his doughnut. When he reached for the box, Vincenzo snatched it up and put it on the Blazer’s roof, well out of the boy’s reach.

“Doughnut!” Daniel demanded.

Vincenzo glared at him. “No. We’re eating dinner now. Do you want macaroni and cheese?”

“I want a hot dog,” Gabby said.

“Hot dog!” Daniel echoed.

“Both of you, come with me.” Vincenzo led them to the rear of the Blazer and showed them the array of canned goods. He pulled out the tent and dropped it to the loamy ground, exposing more prepackaged foods. “This is what we have,” he said. “Choose something.”

“I like basketti,” Gabby said, pointing inside the Blazer.

Vincenzo frowned, not sure what she was talking about, then he saw a couple of cans of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs.
Damn, that does look good
.
Looks like ol’ Walter Scott knew how to pack for the good life.
“You mean this?” Vincenzo pulled out one of the cans and showed it to her.

“Yes, but I want it hot,” Gabby said.

“Okay. We can manage that. Does Daniel like this, too?”

“Dough
nut
!” Daniel shouted.

“He eats it sometimes,” Gabby said, a little surly.

Vincenzo smiled. It was clear the little girl didn’t want to share her “basketti.”

“Okay. Let’s see what we can do.”

Vincenzo pulled out the camp stove and a bottle of Coleman propane and carried them a few feet from the vehicle to a flat spot on the ground. He slipped the canister inside and flicked on the starter. One of the stove’s two burners snapped on instantly with a small hiss. Thinking that was righteously awesome, he found a pot and dumped the can of spaghetti and meatballs into it. Vincenzo selected a can of beef stew for himself and put it in another pan on the second burner. While the food simmered, he dug the appropriate trenches for waste. He wondered how they would sleep. He couldn’t easily sleep in the Blazer, but the kids could.

“Gabby, do you guys like to sleep outside?” he asked.

“Yes. We sleep with daddy.” She sniffed suddenly. “Where is he?”

“He’ll meet us later, honey. So you guys like to sleep? How did you do it before?”

“Daddy has a sleeping bag, and he would spread it out. We would sleep with him under our blankets. Sometimes, when it was really buggy, daddy would put spray on us. It was really smelly. Can I have some water?”

“Wahder, please,” Daniel said. He was staring up at the roofline of the Blazer, trying to find the box of doughnuts.

“Sure thing.” Vincenzo opened two bottles of water and gave them to the kids. Using a wooden spoon, he stirred the spaghetti, then he rummaged in the truck for some bowls and plastic utensils. Twice, he caught Daniel trying to scale the Blazer’s big bumper in a bid to reach the box of doughnuts, and the boy made angry noises when Vincenzo put an end to his larcenous ways. When the spaghetti and meatballs were warm enough, Vincenzo handed them each a bowl and had them sit on the tailgate where he could watch them while they ate.

Gabby ate her portion immediately, while Daniel just picked at his at first. Finally, though, he gave in and ate all of Chef Boyardee’s finest. Vincenzo had to use a couple of wipes to clean the boy’s face and hands. He wasn’t the most proficient eater, and he tended to ignore the plastic fork in lieu of his hands.

Vincenzo wolfed down his meal and chased it down with a still-cool can of beer. It hit the spot, and he released a satisfied belch and gave the deceased Walter Scott a mental toast.

As twilight arrived, he disconnected the propane and packed up the stove. He washed out the dirty dishes with some water then placed all the garbage in the cargo area. Fearful the smells might lure in foraging wildlife, he decided he would dispose of the empty cans and soiled wipes tomorrow.

“Party, please,” Daniel said.

Vincenzo took him to one of the cat holes and removed the boy’s pants and diaper, happy to see both were still clean. He helped the boy squat over the hole to do his business.

“All done,” Daniel said.