Everyone Dies in the End #64

Cindy

 

They rode all night. Durham to Philly was no more than a five or six hour drive, but that was using the interstate. An interstate that Cindy knew might be jammed with immobile cars, or patrolled by the army, gangs, or even police. One thing that Zak had taught her—this might look like the end of the world, but it wasn’t. There were cities that still stood, probably many more than anyone knew, there were—amidst all the violence—still good people, and there was—however fragmented—the remnants of the government, the military, and law and order. So Ramzke’s truck drove on side roads, just off the interstate, away from prying eyes.

They didn’t make Philly that first night. Cindy wasn’t sure where they stopped. She guessed it was west, perhaps even north, of Baltimore. She had wedged herself into the front corner of the truck bed, where the wooden seat butted against the metal cab. A screened viewport looked into the cab and through it she had seen a driver and a sleeping passenger. She recognized neither, but did recognize that neither was Zak. The information did her no good. Ramzke didn’t prevent her moving, nor looking into the cab. He prevented nothing by word or action, nor did he need to. If she escaped he would kill Zak. She knew this with absolute certainty. So, she wedged herself into the corner, leaned her head back, and slept, not caring that Ramzke didn’t, not caring that he never took his eyes off her.

The cessation of movement woke her. She blinked, still groggy. Ramzke stood over her.

“Get up. We’re stopping.”

There was no point in asking why. She stood as hands lowered the tailgate from the outside, and parted the flaps of the canvass.

“Out. Watch your step.”

The concern made her laugh. “Yeah, you wouldn’t want me to skin my knee.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t care if you lost your leg, but I’ve been sent to bring you back whole, unhurt.”

She shrugged, blinked, and teleported to the ground next to the hands that had lowered the gate. Their owner gasped, the man next to him jumped, just a little bit. Cindy kept her face expressionless, taking pleasure in the men’s fear. Ramzke leapt from the truck’s bed to the ground, the action more akin to a cat’s pounce than a man’s jump. Cindy ignored him, choosing instead to study her surroundings. It was dark, no light from any source whatsoever, but her eyes were adjusted to the dark. The truck sat behind a two-story house on a dark driveway.  The asphalt wound from behind the house, along some trees, to the front. Cindy could see no other homes. It was the middle of nowhere.

The two guards guided her down concrete steps at the back of the house, their flashlights projecting bobbing beams of light. The concrete smelled of mildew and led to a solid, wooden door. The door was locked; an interesting detail. The taller guard had a key, even more interesting. He unlocked the door and the pair steeped inside. She could see the reflections of the flashlight beams as they swung about the room. A moment later she heard a generator start and then bright light spilled from the doorway.

One of the men, green eyes, curly brown hair, a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once, reappeared, took her elbow and guided her into the room. Ramzke followed.

The space was unspectacular. A finished basement with cushioned chairs, table, and couch. At the far end another door, interior she judged by its lack of a lock, led elsewhere. Cupboards and counter took up much of one wall. The air was heavy, but not foul. Obviously, this place was cared for, kept, and frequently used.

The man released her elbow. “Have a seat.” Said casually, as if she were a guest. The man walked past and joined his fellow guard at the counter. Both began to pull cans of food from the cupboards. Their weapons rested on the counter, unattended.

“That won’t help.”

It was Ramzke, beside her, smiling. “Perhaps you could blink over there, maybe even kill them both, but you won’t kill me, and even if you did. You’ll lose your friend. So, like the man said, have a seat.”

She did. There wasn’t anything else she could do. What Ramzke said was true. No matter what she did here, she didn’t know where Zak was, and saving herself would only lead to his death. But there was always hope. For now, however, she would bide her time.  She sat.

Her chair was soft and comfortable. It faced the couch. Ramzke sat there, leaning against the arm, stretching his legs in front, crossing them at the ankle. He spoke.

“Hungry?”

“No,” Cindy replied, “Are you?”

Ramzke laughed. “You are not to be drained. You are to be delivered in good health.”

“Delivered to whom?”

“My,” Ramzke formed quotation marks with is fingers, “boss.”

“Where did you learn that?”

Ramzke shrugged. 

“If I didn’t know better I could mistake you for something else, something almost human, but I know better.”

Ramzke nodded. His eyes never left Cindy’s, but her’s left his. Not an act of submission, but one of prudence.

“How would you have me act, like a monster? Change into a bat and tangle your hair. Exactly what do you know?”

“I know you are evil, a species that kills without remorse.

He held up a finger. “I feed without remorse. I never kill except to eat or to avoid being killed. Do you feel remorse when you bite into a piece of meat?”

“So we are cattle?”

“If the hoof fits.” Ramzke laughed. Cindy didn’t join in.

“We are going to Philly?”

Ramzke uncrossed his legs. Behind him the guards sat at a small table in front of the cupboards and ate. Ramzke nodded. “Yes, Philadelphia. We will be there tomorrow.”

Cindy studied her fingers, dirty from the battle under the bridge, with dirt under the nails. “And Zak?”

“Your friend will also be in Philadelphia.”

She picked at the brown arm of the chair. The fabric was clean, but worn. She pulled at a thread. She thought she could smell Ravioli. “Will he be safe?”

Ramzke ignored the question. “You can look at me. I do not wish to control you. Perhaps I could not do so even if I wished. We do not posses a…” He paused, hunting for a word, and then laughed. “A tractor beam, so to speak.”

“Is.He.Safe?” Her words were loud, angry. Loud enough that the guard’s spoons ceased their clinking and they looked up. Ramzke appeared unconcerned with her anger.

“Yes, he will be delivered safely to Philadelphia. From there?” The vampire shrugged. He spread his hands. “It is not up to me.” In the background the clicking resumed.

She looked up from the arm of the chair. The vampire regarded her without expression. “And me? What does he want with me?”

“He does not tell me these things, human.” He leaned forward and Cindy resisted the urge to lean back. “And if I do not do what he says, the man will make me pay.” Dropping his gaze, Ramzke shook his head. “Pay in ways that I cannot accept.”

Suddenly he stood. “But now it is time to rest. The guards will see that you are taken care off, fed, warm, etcetera.” Without another word, Ramzke turned, walked to the end of the room, and exited via the door.

Cindy looked after him a long moment before shifting her gaze to the two guards. “Hey, anything over there worth eating?”

One of them shrugged and held up a can of franks and beans. Cindy blinked, materializing next to the man who yelped and dropped the can. Cindy smiled.

           “I know. It’s freaky, right?”