The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [28]
I see a bobbing light and realize that one of them has a flashlight. It looks like they are moving single file, with the person at the front of the line holding the flashlight. The last one has a flashlight too, and shines it up and down the line of people. I make out six between the leader and the last guy. I can’t see much, but it’s clear that the six—all women or girls—are tied at their wrists and then tied to each other, all in a line. When the flashlight beam flickers over the faces, I see that their cheeks shine where tears are streaking downward.
None of the prisoners make a sound. They don’t struggle, they don’t cry out; they just trudge along like robots. I have no idea what must have happened to them to make them that docile, or what will happen to them when they get where they are going. I want to stop them, to stop the chain of events that has been set into motion. I think about the gun in my hand. Would it do any good to leap out of the bushes and start shooting? Would it stop what’s going to happen to the women? Can I overpower these two guys?
By the time I’ve decided all it will do is get me killed, the group has passed us by. I feel so helpless, but I don’t know what else to do. I guess the wanderers I’d been seeing in the suburbs, and the people who stole the Subaru, were just the beginnings of people starting to freak out. They definitely hadn’t prepared me for, first, the guy in the red Mustang, and now this human slave gang. Tank keeps quietly growling even after I can’t hear or see them anymore.
They must be following the freeway, like me and Tank. That’s a problem. I don’t want to chance traveling behind them and passing them while they rest. They’re moving slowly, far slower than we are, and I think I can pass them if I take the freeway for a while. Not the safest thing, but safer than catching up to them.
After drinking half of a bottle of water, I let Tank have the rest. I set down another handful of kibble for him and eat a banana. Gus had put the ones he found on his son’s kitchen counter in the freezer immediately. He said he knew they would rot fast and he figured freezing might preserve them a little longer. This one has thawed out by now and it’s surprisingly good, as long as I don’t look at it. I get about two thirds of the way done before the image of the station wagon comes into my head again. I drop the rest for Tank, who seems happy to eat it.
Once we’re packed back up, I listen hard, and then I push out of our bushes. Tank follows, ready to go where I lead. I don’t see any sign of anyone ahead of us on the frontage road. We travel along it to the first on-ramp, and I scope out the freeway as far ahead as I can see. It looks abandoned, but I know that can change fast, and there’s nowhere to hide if it does. But I don’t have another option right now, so up the ramp we go.
The one good thing is that the freeway along this stretch is high enough that we can’t be seen from the surface roads, so all I have to worry about is whoever might be on it with me. I start to jog, but I quickly decide that I won’t last long at that pace, so I return to a steady walk. Tank sticks close. It’s funny—I remember all the times Charlie and I had to run and catch Tank when he got out of the backyard and ran through the neighborhood. He doesn’t seem eager to stray now.
We make great time, because there’s nothing but even ground and it’s pretty well lit by the freeway lights. By the time three hours have passed, I’m betting we’re far ahead of the weird crew we saw earlier. Still, I don’t want to risk it. I decide to stay with the freeway for a while longer.
I regret that decision almost immediately.
Chapter 16
I hear the car before I see it, but I try to tell myself it’s just my imagination, that it could be anything. By the time it becomes