600 Miles: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Read Online Free Page A
Author: G.P. Grewal
is something just as bad."
"Looks like nigger blood to me," the old woman said.
"Yeah, most likely. You want me to shoot him or what?"
"Aw, hell," said the other man. "He ain't seem too dangerous, but who knows what he might be planning. I still think he might be with them Mexicans."
They wondered about me a good while, the two men and the old woman, the younger lady just looking frightened and keeping quiet as she sat near, none of them sure what to do. Seemed it was easy for them to shoot a man unless he was up close and defenseless, like they weren't such bad folk that they could just gun me down in cold blood. Then their man on the ground started coming to, moaning and groaning as he twisted around.
"Bleeding still ain't stopped," said the man kneeling over him.
"He ain't gonna make it," said the other. "God damn Mexicans. First Tim and Big John, and now we gonna lose Randy too."
"Ain't no one gonna lose nobody!" the old woman declared. She stooped down beside their fallen man, trying to sop up all the blood with a rag that was already soaked through.
"See what them Mexicans done," the fella pointing the gun at me said. "You better hope you ain't one of them, boy, because if you is, you gonna go just as bad. Now put them hands behind you. Alan, tie him up!"
He came from behind and roped my wrists real good, tight enough that after a while they started getting numb. I sat watching them, the night passing slowly, that groaning son of a bitch laying on the ground wrestling death until finally he breathed his last. It was real quiet after that. Their man dead, they didn't pay me no attention, except for the younger woman who kept staring at me with frightened eyes. I tried the best I could to get my hands loose when no one was looking, but though I'd already spent a long time working them ropes, so far I'd only succeeded in making my hands more numb.
They spent a while talking about what to do, though at last the old woman convinced the men that they should put their friend in the ground, watching them as they tried digging up a hole. The ground was too hard though, and not having any shovels there weren't much they could do, trying for some time with rocks and the butts of their rifles or anything else that was close at hand.
"It ain't gonna work!" one of them said.
It was then that one of my hands slipped free. My blood was racing and I held real still a moment, wondering if the quiet woman who'd been staring at me so much had seen me get loose. The rest were paying the digging too much attention, the two men cussing and saying it weren't going to work, the old woman yelling at them to try harder.
"Stop him, damn it! He's getting away!"
It was the old woman who'd seen me run. Then came the shouts from the men, though there weren't no bullets, neither being able to catch sight of me in the dark. I ran until I couldn't go no farther, laying on my belly behind the dry grass as I caught my breath. I couldn't see nothing, the glow of their fire from over the hill being the only thing I could make out. After a while, I knew they weren't coming, figuring I was long gone and that was that. I waited there for hours, until at last I could see the faint hint of dawn, the reddish glow of their fire having since faded out. I told myself not to, but it weren't no good fighting what I was fixing to do, knowing I had to go back.
Chapter 5
Weren't no one going to make a fool of me, and sure as hell weren't no one who was going to take my gun. No more making nice, I told myself. Problem though was that them men had rifles and I had nothing but my bare hands. I'd have to do it quiet then, like one of them deadly oriental warriors I once read about in one of them books I used to have. Shoot at my dog, shoot at me, steal my pistol—I weren't the turn the cheek kind. That's to say I weren't the kind to just take it. There was a score that needed settling, a reckoning to be had, and maybe we'd all just had a misunderstanding
"Looks like nigger blood to me," the old woman said.
"Yeah, most likely. You want me to shoot him or what?"
"Aw, hell," said the other man. "He ain't seem too dangerous, but who knows what he might be planning. I still think he might be with them Mexicans."
They wondered about me a good while, the two men and the old woman, the younger lady just looking frightened and keeping quiet as she sat near, none of them sure what to do. Seemed it was easy for them to shoot a man unless he was up close and defenseless, like they weren't such bad folk that they could just gun me down in cold blood. Then their man on the ground started coming to, moaning and groaning as he twisted around.
"Bleeding still ain't stopped," said the man kneeling over him.
"He ain't gonna make it," said the other. "God damn Mexicans. First Tim and Big John, and now we gonna lose Randy too."
"Ain't no one gonna lose nobody!" the old woman declared. She stooped down beside their fallen man, trying to sop up all the blood with a rag that was already soaked through.
"See what them Mexicans done," the fella pointing the gun at me said. "You better hope you ain't one of them, boy, because if you is, you gonna go just as bad. Now put them hands behind you. Alan, tie him up!"
He came from behind and roped my wrists real good, tight enough that after a while they started getting numb. I sat watching them, the night passing slowly, that groaning son of a bitch laying on the ground wrestling death until finally he breathed his last. It was real quiet after that. Their man dead, they didn't pay me no attention, except for the younger woman who kept staring at me with frightened eyes. I tried the best I could to get my hands loose when no one was looking, but though I'd already spent a long time working them ropes, so far I'd only succeeded in making my hands more numb.
They spent a while talking about what to do, though at last the old woman convinced the men that they should put their friend in the ground, watching them as they tried digging up a hole. The ground was too hard though, and not having any shovels there weren't much they could do, trying for some time with rocks and the butts of their rifles or anything else that was close at hand.
"It ain't gonna work!" one of them said.
It was then that one of my hands slipped free. My blood was racing and I held real still a moment, wondering if the quiet woman who'd been staring at me so much had seen me get loose. The rest were paying the digging too much attention, the two men cussing and saying it weren't going to work, the old woman yelling at them to try harder.
"Stop him, damn it! He's getting away!"
It was the old woman who'd seen me run. Then came the shouts from the men, though there weren't no bullets, neither being able to catch sight of me in the dark. I ran until I couldn't go no farther, laying on my belly behind the dry grass as I caught my breath. I couldn't see nothing, the glow of their fire from over the hill being the only thing I could make out. After a while, I knew they weren't coming, figuring I was long gone and that was that. I waited there for hours, until at last I could see the faint hint of dawn, the reddish glow of their fire having since faded out. I told myself not to, but it weren't no good fighting what I was fixing to do, knowing I had to go back.
Chapter 5
Weren't no one going to make a fool of me, and sure as hell weren't no one who was going to take my gun. No more making nice, I told myself. Problem though was that them men had rifles and I had nothing but my bare hands. I'd have to do it quiet then, like one of them deadly oriental warriors I once read about in one of them books I used to have. Shoot at my dog, shoot at me, steal my pistol—I weren't the turn the cheek kind. That's to say I weren't the kind to just take it. There was a score that needed settling, a reckoning to be had, and maybe we'd all just had a misunderstanding
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