Dead Men (and Women) Walking (18 page)

“
I guess you could say
that. Now he does anyway.”

“
I don’t get
it.”

“
It’s okay, you don’t have
to. But just let me think, okay.”

“
At least do your thinking,
if that’s what you are going to call it, in the car. It’s God damn
cold out here.”

“
As the Lord as my witness,
if you use His name in vain one more time tonight, or ever,”
growled Walt, a raging intensity seeping into his voice, “I will
cold-clock you in the face right where you stand.”

“
Jeez, get all creepy about
God will you,” muttered Ned, as he turned his back.

Now Walt was
standing.

“
It’s not creepy, you
bastard, It’s not creepy, and you saying that hurts!”

“
Look, Walt,
man,”

“
No, ‘man’, okay, I try an’
not be too bad about it, but I need Him, okay. I need God. I need
Him now as much as I ever did. There are days where I forget why
I’m even here, and having that faith, it might sound stupid to you,
but it keeps me from going over the edge.”

“
I’m sorry, I wish you
could have told me before.”

“
I have. You just don’t
listen. You don’t care about my beliefs. I’m just a simple country
kid who blindly worships for no good reason, right?”

“
I never said–“

“
I have my reason now.
Maybe it was blind faith because of my upbringing before. But now I
have my reason, and now my faith helps keep me strong. God bless my
parents for raisin’ me right.”

“
Hey, right and wrong is
all subjective–“

“
Don’t get like that Ned!”
screamed Walter over the driving fury of the blizzard as the wind
seemed to pick up again and swirl the flakes every which
way.

“
To me, Ned, it’s right. My
daddy raised me right. He raised me right. My daddy raised me right
. . .”

Repeating this sentiment
over and over, Walt fell to the ground crying again, and Ned
approached him to offer consolation. Instead he was shoved to the
ground.

“
Stay away.” Said Walt,
with a quiet demonstrativeness.

As Ned put his hands in the
frigid snow to help push himself up, his hands came into contact
with the same thing that Walt had tripped over before. He started
to dig at the snow, until he uncovered a warped sign with faded,
black writing.

Samson, 1 mile

Ned stood up,
incredulous.

“
Hey Walt.”

“
So help me,
Ned–“

“
No come here. It’s a sign,
buried in the snow.”

“
I don’t care,” said Walt,
sniffling, no longer crying.

“
No you do. It says
‘Samson, 1 mile.’”

“
You’re
kidding.”

“
No I’m not. And I might be
crazy, but I think there is a trail that cuts through the woods
here. There’s a break in the trees. Never noticed it before, what
with all the snow and shit.”

Walt ambled over to his
buddy, and sure enough, there was the sign, written in plain
English.

“
What do you think?” asked
Ned.

Walt looked at his friend,
confused.

“
You want to try that path.
See if we can get to the town, maybe someone knows someone with a
tow truck or something.”

“
I don’t know,” said Walt,
stoically, gradually reverting back to his usual demeanor after his
meltdown in the snow.

“
Well otherwise we just sit
here until morning and hope someone else actually is dumb enough to
drive down here too.”

“
It’s the middle of the
night, I don’t want to get lost.”

“
Fine, play it safe. I’m
going.”

“
No wait,” said Walt, “I’m
going with you.”

“
Anything in the Jeep we
need?”

“
Yeah.”

Walt went back to the Jeep,
popped the glove compartment, and pulled out a small switchblade.
He was worried, because as soon as they uncovered the sign, one
thought had been reverberating in his head

Why would a town nobody was
sure even existed have it’s own road sign?

The two men trudged through
the forest path, the surrounding area possessing an eerie calm. The
snow had driven off all the animals, and the only noise was the
shrill howl of wind through the trees. The two men walked mostly in
silence, except for a brief period right before reaching the end of
the trail.

“
Hey Walt.”

“
Yeah.”

“
Are you okay?”

“
I’m fine.”

“
We both know that isn’t
true.”

“
I am okay. I was really
drunk before though. A lot of stuff that shouldn’t have came out
did.”

“
I’m sorry for being such
an asshole though.”

“
It’s fine.”

“
Can I ask you a
question?”

“
Depends, what is the
question about?”

“
Your father.”

“
It was the Oklahoma City
bombing.”

“
Wait what?”

Walt was silent. Then, it
clicked in Ned’s head. College essays and people who knew Walt from
father-son workdays at his father’s office, everything from before
made sense to Ned.

And then they were silent.
They remained silent as they passed the first unlit, ramshackle
home. And the subsequent homes they saw thereafter. They both knew
they had found Samson.

Walt stopped when they came
upon what appeared to be a town center situated within the forest.
It was small, a general store and the Town Hall. Situated a decent
distance beyond the two places, with just one isolated shack in
between, was a small, run-down church.

“
So,” said Ned, looking to
his companion. “Now what?”

“
We look for signs of life
I guess. Some way to get the hell off that road and back to the
hotel.”

“
Walt, I hate to break it
to you, but I ain’t seen one car in front of any houses since we
been here. I seriously doubt that this town has a tow
truck.”

“
There must be one car in
this place.”

“
I don’t know. We got here
by a footpath, remember? Don’t think no car could fit down
that.”

“
Well then we’ll see if
somebody has a phone at least. They can call a tow-truck to meet us
on the roadside.”

“
I don’t see phone lines,
Walt.”

Walt looked up into the
snow, which had slowed to a moderately paced flurry. As it swirled
down onto his head, he saw that, in this isolated woodland town,
there were indeed no phone lines, or any sort of power
lines.

“
Well regardless Ned, I
think we really should try to get out of the cold.”

The two men looked around at
the town’s deserted, snow-covered center. They had passed roughly
15 houses on the way in, and, while the visibility was limited, it
looked like there were a few more beyond the church. There was not
a lit window to be seen. Finally they decided to settle underneath
an overhang on the porch of the dilapidated general
store.

The two men decided to sit
down on the creaking, wormhole-ridden wood of the stoop and stay
awake. Neither man’s jacket provided much warmth, and both felt the
drain of the elements on their cognition and stamina.

“
Want me to knock on the
door?” asked Ned.

“
People are sleeping, it’d
be rude.”

“
Yeah but this is downright
dangerous staying out in this weather. We need to get
inside.”

“
Fine, knock.”

Ned stood up and went toward
the general store. As he did, the rotting, wooden door creaked open
a crack with a strong gust of wind. It apparently hadn’t been shut
tight.

“
Well ain’t that creepy,”
said Ned, in a mild state of bewilderment.

Ned pushed the door open
further, and stepped inside.

“
Get back here!” hollered
Walt. “That’s trespassing! We’re going to get ourselves in
trouble!”

“
Relax, they’ll
understand.”

“
You’re an idiot, you
really are. Your mama done dropped you on your head.”

Walt crept in behind his
bolder companion. It was like walking into a crypt. The dust was
palpable, and it filled up his lungs, causing him to cough rather
violently. The shelves were stocked, yet cobwebbed, as though not a
soul had laid a hand on them in years. Along the front counter was
archaic honey candy in a packaging that looked straight out of the
1930’s. And, as he searched for a light switch, Walt discovered
that there was not one to be found.

There were spots on the wall
where it appeared a candle could be placed, however. Unfortunately,
neither man had even a lighter, let alone a candle. That was when
both Walt and Ned heard footsteps coming from a back room, toward a
little door in the rear right-hand corner of the store.

“
Get out, come on,”
insisted Walt in a raspy whisper.

“
No let’s stay. Maybe this
guy will help us out.”

The door opened and out came
a very tall man obscured by shadows.

“
If I find ya done stole
anything, I’m gon’a shoot you where you stand and not ask no
questions!” bellowed the man in a voice that could only be termed
as a perpetual bellow.

“
Sir!” said Ned excitedly,
his voice crackling a bit, “we were stuck out in the cold! Our car
broke down, could you help us?”

“
Who in the heck are
you?”

“
My name is Ned, this is my
friend Walt. Our car, it broke down out on the road about a mile
from here. We saw a sign, it said your town was here. We were
hoping maybe you could give us a hand.”

“
You mean you ain’t from
here?”

“
No sir, we just wanted to
get some help.”

“
We done got a couple of
outsiders,” muttered the man aloud.

“
We’re truly sorry,” said
Walt, who was crouched down behind the first of the three aisles in
the store with Ned. Both had ducked at the sight of the huge form
emerging from the back.

“
Well show yourselves,”
said the man, walking closer.

Ned stood up quickly, Walt
with a bit more hesitation. Ned, not exactly Mr. Social, was very
anxious to make a new friend here if it meant saving his own skin
and getting to the comforts of their Holiday Inn.

Walt saw the man ambling
toward them in the darkness, and couldn’t make out any discernable
features in the black of the store. Only that he appeared
middle-aged, had a grown-out bowl cut, and had to be six foot five,
his noticeable hunch taken into consideration.

“
Nice to see you boys,”
said the man as he put both his arms around the back of the two
men’s shoulders. Walt noticed he was wearing overalls, but nothing
under them. His odor was wretched. He smelled like a combination of
body odor and human feces. Walt felt a lump start to rise in his
throat.

“
Come back here, come with
me,” said the man, escorting them into the room from which he had
emerged.

Walt was afraid to open his
mouth; afraid the man’s foul stench would incite vomit. But Ned
made small talk.

“
So what’s your
name?”

“
Kane. Not like Abel’s
brother though. Kay, eh, en, ee.”

“
That’s a nice
name.”

“
No it’s not. It’s a strong
name. Nice names are for faggots.” Kane paused. “Like that
journalist man. He was a faggot. Last outsider we had in town
before you boys.”

“
Journalist man?” asked
Ned.

“
Yeah, forget his name. But
he had a weak name.”

Walt stiffened up. Kane
noticed.

“
Why so tense boy?” asked
Kane, opening the door to the back room.

“
Just cold,” muttered Walt,
not exactly lying.

The three men walked into
the back room, and stepped into hell. Walt looked into the small
room, his mouth agape, and Kane shoved the two men in.

It was small, no bigger than
Walt and Ned’s hotel room, bathroom not included. Atop the wall
directly before them was a candelabra that contained six candles to
illuminate the room. The wax dripped from the candles and onto a
dirty, bare mattress that was attached to a rusting metal bed
frame. That was the only piece of furniture in the room aside from
an old wooden chair.

The stench of decay and
excrement in the room was overbearing, and Walt saw it was infested
with flies. Infestation was not an exaggeration. There had to be at
least 400 flies in the small room. He saw why. In the back corner,
on the right, was a large mound of human waste, both liquid and
solid. In the front left corner of the room, slumped against the
wall, was a rotting female corpse in a blouse. She appeared to have
been dead for some time.