Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (5 page)

Next on the list was his mom’s bike cargo trailer, which they’d often taken on picnics. It was a two-wheel configuration that attached with a hitch to the back wheel joint; its flat platform fit a heavy duty lidded blue storage container. Graham dusted it off, rolled it around to listen for any excess noise, and oiled its moving parts.

He attached the hitch to his bike and then noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Bang standing in the doorway with his finger in his mouth. “You can come in, buddy,” he said in a cheerful tone, waving the boy in. Graham knew the little guy was not used to him yet and that he would have to build trust over time.

“Bang, do you know how to ride a bike?” Bang’s face lit up like a sparkler.

“Yes, I can ride. I have a bike at home. My mom takes me lots of times. We even bike to school sometimes, and—.” His little face fell to an expression that echoed the one Graham had seen in his mirror that morning: a happy memory turned, in a nanosecond, to devastation, the good thoughts replaced by the pain of their new reality.

“Well, that’s great,” Graham said, sidestepping the strong reel of emotion, clear as hell on the little kid’s face. He hoped the pain would go away quicker if he didn’t acknowledge it, if they didn’t dwell on it. “Come on, then. Let’s see if this will work for you.” He motioned to Bang as he pulled the hideous pink bike out for him. Graham watched as the boy eyed the bike. With a look that could kill, the kid shut down.

“Look, I know it’s pink, but it’s all we have right now,” Graham said. “If we come across something more suitable for a boy, we’ll trade it then.” He leaned the bike in Bang’s direction and hoped the kid would take it, but he didn’t move.

“Bang, I don’t have time for this. If you ride this bike, as soon as we can, we’ll find you a better one. I
promise
.”

Then, in an abrupt about-face, Bang simply nodded his head and grabbed the handles.

“You’ll have to ride around in here for now, and we’ll see if we need to adjust anything,” Graham said.

Bang looked eager to show off, so he hopped on the bike and began skillfully riding around in circles. Graham then realized Bang had no helmet.
Oh crap, there is no way that kid will go for that
, he thought, eyeing the pink Barbie helmet
. It probably won’t fit him anyway; the kid has a big noggin.
Graham reached into the sports cabinet and pulled out his mom’s helmet, which thankfully was olive green.

“Hey, Bang, stop for a minute. Let’s see if this will fit you,” he said. As the little bike skidded to a stop right in front of him, Graham realized that the kid really could ride, and loved to do so. After adjusting the helmet to fit snugly, he let Bang practice a few more times around the garage. He noticed that he even stood on the pedals, leaning on one side or the other when turning.
This boy has some skills,
he thought.
That’ll come in handy—as long as he doesn’t get reckless.

After adjusting the seat, Graham went on to other matters. “Next, we need to start loading. We only have a little space, but we’re going to load up as much as we can with food, sleeping bags, ammo, and a first aid kit.”

Graham and Bang worked side by side, busily collecting and stuffing as many essentials as they could into the trailer tote, which seemed far too small for a trek like theirs. Using bungee cords, they strapped the sleeping bags to its top. Graham knew he should take several other things, but there just was not room.

He grabbed his dad’s pocketknife, putting it into his jeans pocket. Then he noticed a smaller one—his own from childhood—which he handed to Bang. “Keep this in your pocket, buddy. It is for work, not play, do you understand?”

The boy met his gaze with a serious face, nodded his understanding, and put the knife in his jeans pocket. Graham hoped he could entrust Bang with such a thing, but he guessed that someday soon the boy, struck with a fit of boredom, would run his thumb along the blade, causing a thin red gash, as he himself had done as a child and as his father had done before him. By circumstance Graham was passing the gruesome rite of passage down to this boy.

Having just evoked yet another memory, Graham growled under his breath and retreated into the house. He went to collect a few pieces of silverware and some bar soap, as well as the first aid kit and the plastic shower curtain to use as a barrier against the constant drizzle. Most important, he went into his father’s closet, with Bang close behind him. He opened up the gun safe and collected two of his dad’s Garand rifles and his Ruger handgun. He put the rifles into cases and strapped his father’s holster at his waist for the handgun. He felt awkward wearing it but, as with his own rifle, he’d soon get used to it.

They went back to the kitchen counter for the map that he and his dad had drawn up for the best route out of town. His great-great-grandfather had built the cabin as a trapping lodge in the 1920s. Over the years it came to serve as a winter hunting lodge and summer retreat for the whole family. They spent several weeks there each summer, and in the winter Graham and his father went there to hunt. Now, with everyone else gone, it belonged to Graham alone.

Almost every visit had brought improvements to the cabin. His grandfather had built on a bunkroom and the attached bathroom. Running water and electricity came next, and just the previous year an indoor composting toilet was added; it was a huge improvement over the old outhouse. Most recently they’d replaced the old woodstove with a larger and more efficient one his dad had found on Craigslist; hauling the heavy cast-iron thing had made them both ache and groan for days afterward, but it had been worth the effort.

The structure, built well in the beginning, had had many repairs and upgrades over the years. On one visit, as a teenager, Graham had helped rechink the grout and replace rotted boards. On another visit he and his dad had replaced the cedar roof shingles. He had always suspected his dad had arranged these chores to keep him out of trouble during the summer months.

He just could not escape the memories.

With their gear all packed, including their personal backpacks, Graham plotted his and Bang’s possible route through town. Though he’d play it by ear, not committing them to any particular course, he’d adjust as needed for safety. Typically, they’d take the highway up near Seattle and then shoot northeast. But it was safer to snake up the less-traveled back roads.

Graham knew they would have to rough it on bikes until they bypassed the bad guy Campos. Since he had not ventured out lately, Graham really didn’t know what conditions he would find, but he knew there were the feral animals to worry about. He also knew that the highways were cluttered with abandoned cars, and maybe they could secure one. The best idea was to adopt a wait-and-see approach. Once he could see where the bad guy hung out, then maybe he and the kid could slink through unnoticed.

Unfortunately there was no other way to get up to and across the overpass either by road or on foot. They would just have to go as quietly as possible under the highway and cross by the gas station.

Graham hoped to get past without drawing the guy’s attention. According to Hyun-Ok’s letter, this Campos character apparently stopped folks who were coming into town, not those trying to get out. If he had to confront him he would just reason with him or offer him food to pass through peacefully. But Graham would be armed, and he would have Bang ride on his left, providing a little cover for the kid in case things got hairy.

To get to the cabin on the outskirts of Cascade, along the Skagit River, they’d go hopefully by “borrowed” truck, up the road through Fall City and Carnation. Then, they’d go finally up to Monroe, but Graham doubted they could drive freely on Highway 2, so he opted for the less traveled back roads that would take them around the lake and then north to Granite Falls. From there, they’d take another back road through Darrington and then finally north to Cascade.

All these small towns were now deserted. If they ran into any trouble, they could always change their route. The last thing he wanted to do was end up hiking with a five-year-old, making it an epic trek through the wilderness.

Now that Graham had his plan mapped out, he also thought it might be wise to grab his dad’s binoculars so that he could scout ahead.

Graham heard a grumbling noise coming from the little guy who was shadowing his every move; this signaled lunchtime. Again Graham resorted to rewarming the last of the leftover beans, forgoing the rice this time. There was just enough for the two of them.

“Okay, Bang,” he said. “It’s time we tidy up this place so if—
when
—we come back here someday it won’t be a mess. We’re going to ride our bikes out of here tonight, and I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to sleep. So, if you need to take a nap before we go, this is the time. What do you think?” he asked the boy.

Bang hastily shook his head, and with an offended glare, answered, “I don’t take naps.”

Note to self: Bang does not do naps.
At least he was learning more about the boy.

Looking Bang over, he decided the boy needed more cold weather gear. Nightfall often brought cooler temperatures. Bike riding at night would be quite cold indeed until they could procure a decent vehicle to drive. He checked out the hall closet for extra gloves and jackets. He found pink gloves and mittens but did not even try to pass them off to the boy. Instead he opted for one of his own black knit hats and his mom’s black knit gloves, which stretched to fit all sizes.

As he rifled through the closet Graham kept thinking about a potential confrontation with the Campos guy. He thought it might be wise to stash the boy and their bikes nearby while he confronted Campos on foot. He would wait to decide until he could get a visual of the situation. If it were true that Campos had already killed two people, as Hyun-Ok had claimed to witness, he’d likely killed more. “How crazy could this guy be?” he muttered. In a few hours the answer would be clear.

Graham looked through his mother’s hall of portraits, about which he often chided her. He looked for one with a decent likeness of them all and small enough to carry around in his wallet. He rarely carried his wallet with him now, but in the impossible event the world did indeed come back, he wanted his identification and his family picture with him. Or, if he admitted it to himself, he just really felt like taking them along with him on this journey.

Never in a million years did he think he would trek by bike and an unknown truck to the family cabin, past bad guys and wild animals, with a kid named Bang, at the end of humankind. How life had changed in the course of just a few months. Graham had no idea what would become of them next year at this time. Staying alive was the plan right now.

The night started to descend, so Graham made the last of the rice for dinner with his mom’s southern gravy recipe. He heated and then whisked together a little melted venison fat with the remaining flour and canned milk. He diluted it with water and sprinkled it liberally with salt and pepper. His dad would have been proud of the dinner. Graham offered a bowl to Bang and he wolfed it down in quick order.

After dinner, Bang and Graham walked out to his mother’s garden. They gathered a few of his mom’s remaining prized but faded roses and took them over to the six unmarked graves. He let Bang pick which one he wanted to place on Hyun-Ok’s grave. They stood in silence, a solemn moment in the sunset haze, with no words needed between them.

Graham believed Bang was what he’d heard others talk about from time to time—a child possessed with an old soul. His silent actions today as they prepared their escape bore witness to this characteristic. Graham knew they’d get along well once Bang stopped resenting him.

After their impromptu memorial, Graham went around the inside of the house, making sure all the windows were locked, turned off the water heater, and then, after making one last ceremonial trip to the bathroom, he shut off the incoming main water valve. After he was satisfied that he had completed his checklist of the house, he securely locked the front door from the inside. It was all as if they were just going on vacation.

They donned their backpacks and headed to the garage. Along the way, he turned off the few lights. Grabbing his rifle, he slung it over his back to have it at the ready. He reached over to Bang, secured his helmet and retied his shoes while down at his level. He then remembered something: a few weeks back he’d seen his childhood bow and arrows in a quiver tucked in a corner of the garage. He grabbed the quiver and showed it to Bang.

“Would you like this?” Graham asked. Bang’s face lit up, and Graham thought he detected the beginnings of a smile. Graham fastened the quiver to Bang with a strap that secured over his head and around his back. The small archery set seemed perfect for his size, but Graham doubted it would be good for defense. Nevertheless, if it made Bang feel more secure to wear the contraption, he did not have a problem with it.

After checking for any danger, be it from man or beast, Graham popped the garage door latch manually, making as little noise as possible. They pulled their gear out into the darkened driveway, securing the door behind them, and headed out, riding side by side. Graham’s bike towed the little supply trailer with the rifle case sticking out awkwardly. With the unknown before them, they did not even think to look back.

Draped in darkness, the autumn hued trees didn’t have their typical daytime appeal. To Bang they resembled the frightening and enormous goblins, Dokkaebi, from Korean folklore. Bang had always enjoyed his father telling him about these mythical mischief-makers, but sometimes he would have nightmares afterward. His mother would discourage his father from sharing the stories, but Bang just couldn’t get enough of the tall tales.

The Dokkaebi were known to play tricks on unsuspecting mortals who traveled, as Bang and Graham were doing now. They would transform out of inanimate objects to challenge travelers in an impromptu wrestling match to guarantee their safe passage. Bang imagined this would be really scary about now; he did not want to find out what would happen if he failed, though—according to legend—winning such a match would often earn one a magical item. Bang moved in to ride a little closer to Graham, just in case the Dokkaebi appeared. He figured Graham could probably wrestle better than he could.

They quickly reached the neighborhood’s main drive. From there they could see stationary vehicles all along the highway overpass, in both directions, leading up to where Campos’s gas station was. A light could be seen in the distance, but at present no one was within sight. The ever-present fire glow to the west lit up the distant darkness. It seemed to grow a little each day.

Bang missed his mother. He didn’t want to be there at night in the dark. He tried to honor his mother’s wishes though; she had told him to obey Graham and to help him when he could. Bang tried to remember that, but his heart ached for her and he wanted to go home. At first he had hated Graham, but after he saw the man crying in the hallway he knew his heart ached too.
Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy
, he thought. Graham had already saved Bang from the dogs, and because his mother wanted him to trust Graham, he decided to stay with him.