Everyone Dies in the End #19
Artemis
They couldn’t leave. Not as soon as Artemis and Susan would have liked, and they damn sure couldn’t leave as soon as the chunky guy named Todd would have liked, but in the end, it was Todd that kept them there.
Todd had wheels. A brand new Ford F-150 pickup truck, not that brand new meant anything now. There were lots of brand new cars, there were also lots of burnt out cars. Cars (and trucks for that matter) were easy to find, what was difficult was gas, but Todd had gas too.
They had gone to Todd’s place for food. He had lots of food. Arty was amazed at the food Todd had. He quickly understood why the chunky guy was that way. They left Todd’s place, and after a bit of shouting—mostly between Susan and himself, mostly about what they needed and what they didn’t—went to the UNC-Charlotte campus…to the dorm where Arty and Susan lived. They had stuff they needed to get. Clothes and other stuff. Stuff like Arty’s NES. Todd didn’t like that, but Arty didn’t really give a shit.
It had taken a while to load all the stuff. The power was out, and seven flights of steps just took a while. And they were exhausted. And the sun was setting.
“Can’t go now.” It was Todd, sitting in the easy chair in the corner of Arty’s room, the chair that took the place of his roommate’s bunk, the roommate who was probably lying dead somewhere in West Germany. Todd hefted his large frame from the chair and strode to the window.
Arty sat on his bunk, Susan next to him. He looked past Todd at the purpling light. It would be dark in less than thirty minutes.
“Can’t go now.” Todd repeated his previous statement, but in a voice which seemed more a confirmation than a statement.
“Kill Dog owns the night. Some of his boys even have night vision goggles they lifted from dead soldiers. If we leave now, we’ll be playing right into their hands.”
Arty thought that was strange, thought that even though Kill Dog’s guys might have the goggles, the night was big, and the three of them were small. He liked the odds. Todd didn’t. That was strange.
“I don’t get it,” Arty answered. “How can this Kill Dog guy know where we are, let alone track us out of the town.”
Todd whirled from the window. “There’s a lot of things you don’t, get aren’t there?” There was an edge to his voice. Maybe too much of an edge, Arty thought. Todd paced. “You don’t know these guys.”
“And you do?” Art laughed. I thought you said you were a banker, how do you know these guys?”
“Financial consultant, dimwit. But I got in some trouble. The sort of trouble that introduces you to guys like Kill Dog.”
“What trouble?” Susan spoke for the first time, her voice smaller than the two men’s.
Todd didn’t answer, instead turning his attention to the street below. A long moment passed. The purpling sky had turned darker. Except for wispy clouds of smoke the sky was clear. Stars winked in the space between the drifting smoke, and the city’s many fires reflected pink on the cloud’s bellies.
“It’s not important.” Todd’s voice was lower than before, almost a whisper.
“Why?”
Yeah, Arty thought, why? It seemed pretty important to him.
Todd shrugged. “It’s not important because it isn’t. What it is, is history. I had everything, a good job, lots of money, whatever I wanted. Like Jimmy Buffet sang, ‘I made enough money to buy Miami
He was quiet for a moment. The sky was dark now. Only the fires offering a flickering light. “We can’t go now. He’ll know. He has ways of knowing.” He didn’t bother facing them when he completed the thought. “He has ways.”
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