Collision Course (7 page)

* * *

The hot sun shined through the window and onto Gabe's face. His eyes blinked open, and he tried to straighten himself in the chair. His hand went to his neck and rubbed the muscles that had tightened up from sleeping slumped over. He realized that his neck hurt worse than his head did. That almost never happened. He looked at the bottle. It wasn't even half-empty. That, too, was rare. He made his way into the bathroom, and when he tried to turn on the light, the events of yesterday came back to him. He grabbed a few aspirin tablets, but when he turned on the faucet, only a dribble of water came out.
Of course
, he thought,
no power for the pump
. He choked down three aspirins without water and then brushed his teeth. He would have climbed into a hot shower to relax his stiff muscles, but that wasn't possible.

He put his hands down on the counter and leaned into the mirror. “Well, Gabe, the world just handed you a big shit sandwich to eat,” he said to the reflected face. “But then, what else is new?”

He walked back into the living room, his body telling him to pour another drink. He reached for the whiskey, but the sight of the empty spot on the wall stopped him. He spotted the framed picture lying facedown, glass shards covering the floor all around it. Gabe shook the broken pieces of glass off it. Turning it over, he was comforted to see that the picture itself wasn't damaged.

It was Gabe's favorite picture of them. They'd all three gone to the beach and had a wonderful time. Gabe had taken the photograph himself shortly before Hannah and Michael left. Gabe was no photographer, but it was one of those one-in-a-million shots. The sun was low in the sky, and the light reflected off them like the seraphim. It was the way he remembered them most. They were smiling and happy, a son wrapped in a mother's loving arms.

Gabe's eyes blurred and his lungs wouldn't work. He turned to look at the bottle.
No,
he told himself. He had to clean this mess up first. He knew it would never happen, but he tried to keep the place nice in case they ever came back to him. There would be plenty of time for drinking later. He carefully placed the glassless picture frame on the table and got to work. After he'd disposed of the larger pieces of glass in a bucket, he went to the closet to get the vacuum cleaner. As his grip tightened around the handle, he realized it wouldn't work without electricity. His shoulders slumped even more as he returned to his bucket and picked up the rest of the broken pieces.

CHAPTER 8

D
J woke and looked at his watch. It was midafternoon. He hadn't slept this long since he'd left home. Now that he had gas, his mind was at ease. He'd only been able to drive for a little over an hour after getting the gas the previous night. The thought of the store owner finding the hundred-dollar bill and the note DJ had left brought a smile to his face. He imagined the man stomping around, fuming at how his gas had been taken right from under his nose.

Although he hadn't gone far before daylight threatened to creep up on him, DJ had found a good hiding place in an old deserted barn. He'd easily make it to the bridge tonight, and, once across the river, he'd reach his hideout in just a couple of days. He fixed himself a large celebratory lunch and tore ravenously through the food. Somehow it tasted better than it had before.

He pulled out his maps and identified his location. It was only twelve miles or so to the bridge. Given the two-lane road it took across the river, DJ figured the bridge probably was on the small side, but as long as it wasn't jammed with some monumental wreck, it should get him across.

DJ paced from one end of the barn to the other. He looked outside each time he got to the doors. The sky was gray this afternoon, and it looked as if it might rain. He hoped the weather would hold up, but if it was going to rain, he wanted it to happen soon so that it would pass by nightfall. He thought about stringing his hammock up between a couple of the large beams that supported the barn, but he didn't think he could be still long enough to get any rest. Excitement coursed through his body. He did some push-ups and sit-ups, but they did little to calm him. He returned to his pacing, staring out at the darkening sky on each loop and willing himself not to look at his watch.

* * *

Gabe had thrown the broken glass into the trash, vowing to pick up a new frame next time he went into town. He returned to the picture to check again that it was okay. Hannah's happy face briefly brought a smile to his lips. She was the love of his life. Ten years younger than Gabe, she had swept him off his feet. Her family didn't like him, especially now. They'd tried to talk Hannah out of marrying the older man, but she had assured them that the love she felt was forever. After Michael was born, things seemed to get better with her family. God, how he missed them. Gabe was just about to pour another glass of whiskey when he heard a truck door slam.

He looked out the window and spotted Jane Walker coming toward his trailer. He wondered what she wanted now. A second later, he heard the knock. Gabe set the bottle down and opened the door.

There she stood. He said nothing.

Her nose scrunched up. “Have you been drinking?” she asked.

“Some,” he mumbled.

“Are you drunk?”

Gabe shook his head. “No, not really. Why?”

“Because Robby and I need to go to town and get a few things. The way things are, I thought it would be safer if a man went with us. I figured you could probably use some things, too,” she said.

“You don't want me.”

“It's not about want. It's about need. Now, go change your clothes and put on some cologne or something. I don't want my boy smelling alcohol on you.”

Gabe hung his head and trudged into his bedroom. He didn't know why, but somehow he was compelled to do as the woman said. He gargled some mouthwash, applied a generous portion of Aqua Velva to his body, and put on clean clothes. When he walked back into the living room, he found Jane looking at the picture.

When she saw him, she put the picture back down where she'd found it. The old look, the one Gabe hated, was back in her eyes. He gazed down at the floor. She walked up to him, a little closer than he was comfortable with. He heard her sniff.

“That's better,” she said. “Let's go.”

Gabe followed her out the door, locking it behind him. He climbed into the passenger seat as the teenage boy scooted into the middle. The young teen's eyes held the hatred and disgust to which Gabe had grown accustomed. No one said a word as Jane drove them into town.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the small local grocer, Gabe was surprised at how full the lot was. Jane found an empty space on the far edge of the lot and parked. The trio got out of the truck and walked toward the store. A long line extended from the entry door around to the side of the store. In front of the exit door was a table with two men and a sheriff's deputy standing beside it. It seemed to be the checkout station. A young couple was first in that line. One of the men was taking their items out of the basket and calling off prices to the other man, who had a calculator in his hand. The deputy was watching intently, and every once in a while, he'd look nervously around the parking lot. A second deputy was pushing an empty cart out of the lot and toward the entry door.

There were two hand-painted signs posted on the front of the store, close to the entryway. The one with the biggest lettering said
$50
LIMIT
PER
HOUSEHOLD
.
CASH
ONLY. As they got closer, Gabe could read the other. It said A
LL FOOD IS FIRST COME, FIRST SERVED
. N
O FIGHTING.
A
NYONE CAUSING ANY PROBLEM WILL BE ASKED TO LEAVE WITHOUT ANYTHING
. N
O EXCEPTIONS.

“Do you see the sign, Mom? You think people are fighting over the food?” Robby asked.

“I don't know, son. What do you think, Mr. Horne?”

Gabe just shrugged. Her face looked disappointed when he didn't speak. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “People fight over stupid stuff all the time.”

“That's true,” the boy said as he turned and looked at his mother. Gabe saw the look on the young man's face and wondered if he was referring to some of the fights Gabe had had when he was drunk. Gabe was infamous for some of the brawls he'd caused in this sleepy little town.

The three got into line and waited. Jane kept trying to make small talk, but Gabe kept his answers to one or two words. Finally when she asked him what he planned to buy, he'd had enough.

“Look, I agreed to come with you, but I don't want to play twenty questions,” he said rudely. The hurt and disappointment returned to her face. She turned to the front of the line with her back to him. Gabe was thankful for the reprieve.

Over the next half hour, he overheard others in line discussing the state of things. One man was talking about the gas station rationing fuel. He said that just like the fifty-dollar limit here at the grocery, the station was only allowing ten gallons per vehicle and wasn't letting anyone put gas in fuel cans. A woman mentioned that her husband went to the gun store to buy her a shotgun for self-defense, but that the shop wasn't selling any guns. Others talked of crimes and shortages, but most of it sounded like rumor to Gabe.

Finally they rounded the corner of the store and they were only ten or twelve people from the door. As they were nearing the entrance, one of the deputies came over to the line. “When they give you a basket and a flashlight, you can go in. We have men inside, so no fighting. If you start any trouble, you'll be escorted out of the store without your food. Understand?”

The deputy looked up and down the line as people nodded. When he saw Gabe, he stared at him for a minute. Gabe wasn't sure if he knew who he was, or if he was trying to figure it out. The deputy continued. “The store is expecting a delivery in a couple of days, so if they're out of something you need, you can come back next week. Remember, you can only buy fifty dollars' worth, and they are only taking cash.”

The deputy gave Gabe one last look and walked back over to the checkout table. Very shortly thereafter, Mrs. Walker and her son went into the store. Two minutes later, Gabe was given a basket and a flashlight. He entered the store and looked around. There was enough light from the windows in the front to see down the aisles, but not enough to make out exactly what was on the shelves. Gabe pushed his cart down an aisle and shined his flashlight onto the items. He saw that the store had gotten out their old pricing guns and marked everything. Bar codes and scanners were of no use without electricity.

He had all the vegetables he could eat at home, so he passed on everything in the canned fruits and vegetables row except for some peaches. He grabbed some sugar and flour because it seemed as if he should. There wasn't any salt left, though he did find some pepper. The dried goods were almost all gone. All the large bags of rice were gone, but he did get two small bags. The only pasta left was angel hair, and he bought three one-pound packages. He found some jars of pasta sauce. They weren't his favorite, but he bought three anyway. There wasn't any bread, milk, or fresh meat. The canned meat was well picked over, too. He was almost sad to see there was no Spam left. He found some off-brand soup and put twenty cans in his basket. He looked for batteries, but they were out. The only candles he could find were the expensive, aroma type, so he passed on them. There were a few cans of grape juice on a shelf, and he got them. He looked for cheese, but to no avail. Figuring that there wasn't much else he needed, he pushed his basket into the checkout line.

When the lady in front of him started to check out, she asked the clerk if they had any diapers. The man said they expected some on the next truck, but that they'd go fast. He suggested that if she needed any baby products, she should come early on Monday. He called out her prices, and before her basket was empty, the calculator man stopped the price caller.

“That's already fifty-two eighty-six,” the man said.

“You'll have to stop here,” the other man said.

“Oh, okay. I really need the rest of the stuff in the basket. Can you add it in, and then let me take some other things out?”

The calculator man rolled his eyes. “Look, lady, we've got a lot of people to check out. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know?”

The woman shrank. Her face looked as if she had been unexpectedly punched in the gut.

“It'll just take a minute, Joe,” the price caller reasoned. “Besides, it's not like we haven't done it for others.”

“All right,” the younger man said, with exasperation in his voice.

Gabe saw the lady mouth the words “thank you” to the price caller, who had MIKE printed on his name tag. He hurriedly called out the last items, and Joe declared the total at just over fifty-nine dollars. The woman started picking items off the table, and Joe deducted them until she was under fifty dollars. She paid him, and he made her change out of a cigar box. The second deputy pushed the cart to her car.

Gabe started unloading his basket, and Mike began calling prices. It didn't take long for him to finish, and Joe called out his total.

“Forty-two sixty-one. Mister, you're the first one today who didn't go over or right to the fifty-dollar mark,” he said. “I'd like to shake your hand.”

Gabe waved his hand at the man as if it was nothing. He paid, got his change, and then one of the deputies grabbed his cart.

“That's okay, Deputy, I can take it,” Gabe said. He wondered if he'd ever met this deputy before.

“All right, but I have to bring the cart back anyway,” the peace officer said as he fell in step next to Gabe. As they made their way to the truck, the deputy lowered his voice and spoke. “You're Gabriel Horne, right?”

Gabe nodded.

“I'm just a reserve deputy, so I don't know what the deal is, but Jack Harris over there, he's a regular deputy—doesn't seem to like you much. He told me that if you caused any trouble, he'd run you in. You don't want to go to jail right now, Mr. Horne. It's just about standing room only. We're starting to get some troublemakers out of the city, and you know how small the jail is. We can usually barely fit the local boys.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Gabe said quietly.

When they reached the truck, Gabe put his bags in the bed and gave the cart to the reserve deputy. He stood beside the truck and watched as the lawman pushed the basket back to the entrance of the store. A few minutes later, Mrs. Walker came out of the store and got into the checkout line. The same deputy grabbed her cart and started pushing it toward the truck.

When they had almost reached the truck, a ruckus broke out on the other side of the parking lot. The deputy turned and dashed over to the trouble. Gabe saw someone moving up behind Mrs. Walker and Robby from between some cars. The man, whom Gabe recognized as a fellow lowlife, pushed the woman away from the cart and grabbed the handle. Robby tried to catch his mother, and, while he probably broke her fall, the two of them ended up in a heap. The thief was pushing the cart for all he was worth toward Gabe and looking over his shoulder to see if the lawmen had noticed. As he got closer, Gabe stepped out from between the truck and the car next to it. He extended his arm at ninety degrees from his body and the basket-jacker turned his head just in time to see the clothesline catch him in the throat.

The man's eyes got wide as his feet flew out from under him. The basket was still traveling on its own as the man crashed down onto the asphalt. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he looked like a goldfish that had jumped out of its fishbowl.

Jane and Robby picked themselves up and ran over to Gabe. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” Gabe said. “You?”

“Just a little scraped up. Thanks for saving our groceries.”

“No problem.”

Robby ran after the basket and was pushing it back when Deputy Harris came running up. He grabbed Gabe's arm and swung him onto the trunk of a car. Twisting the arm behind its owner, he reached for the handcuff case on his belt.

“Deputy, you have the wrong man,” Jane said. “The man who tried to steal our groceries is lying right there.” She pointed at the man on the ground, who had a dazed look on his face and was trying pathetically to get up. “Mr. Horne here just stopped him.”