All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 22 - Part III

“Thanksgiving? Really?” Mannie laughed. “Not sure we have a lot to be thankful for, but we’re still here.”

A dry chuckle came from the back seat. “A white woman, a Mexican and an Indian meet on Thanksgiving. Sounds like a joke.”

But to Mannie, she didn’t appear very amused. He changed the subject. “How long, you figure, before Blackhawk comes looking for you?”

”Tomorrow maybe.” Even more sober, she stared out the window at the speeding scenery.

“I want a Thanksgiving dinner,” Jess said. She turned her head to Mannie, “Please.”

Once again he saw the little girl. “Sure.” Mannie put his hand on her shoulder.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the Naked Moose restaurant in Dolores, Colorado. The power was out and the sun nearly down. Mannie had Jess park behind the restaurant in case BeeGee was wrong and Blackhawk arrived sooner.

Inside in the walk-in freezer Jess found a whole ham still mostly frozen. Since the electric stove was out, Mannie fired the gas grill out on the deck. He wrapped aluminum foil around the ham and put it on the grill.

“I’m going to go see what other Thanksgiving kinds of food I can find,” Jess said.

Mannie followed her outside. “Jess, thanks again for the cool head back there.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m off to explore.”

“Be safe,” Mannie said. He retrieved his maps from Rubi’s glove box. When he got back inside BeeGee was staring at her phone, intent on playing a game.

Mannie familiarized himself with the next stretch of road: 70 miles before Monticello, then head north to Salt Lake City about 300 miles after that. If everything went well, he might see Lizzie tomorrow.

After about 20 minutes, Jess came back with cans of green beans, fruit cocktail, black olives and Coca-Cola. “The Coke’s from your Jeep,” she explained, opening the other cans. She tore off the wrapper and stuck the green bean can on the grill. When she lifted the lid smoke billowed out from the juice dripping through the aluminum.

“When we’re done eating, we better move on,” Jess suggested, setting the table with plates, cloth napkins and silverware. “I can smell that ham for blocks.”

Mannie nodded. “Well, I’m pretty wired. I could drive for a while. BeeGee? You want to stay?” He cleared away the maps, folding them neatly.

“I dunno.” BeeGee came over and sat down at the table. “Guess, I’ll go on for a bit, ’til I decide what to do next. Randy’s always been there. Don’t really want to be alone.”

Something relaxed in Mannie. He understood not wanting to be alone. There was power in numbers. Three’s company. And he didn’t feel good about leaving BeeGee.

Mannie stepped out onto the porch and turned the gas off on the grill. He wheeled it inside as he heard dogs barking nearby.

Jess wasn’t kidding about the ham. By the time it was inside, a pack of dogs circled the yard. One of the dogs, a Shepherd mix, stared brazenly in through the front glass door.

The ham was juicy. He sliced off the burned outer skin and then big slabs fell to his fork. He laid the ham on their plates next to the green beans, olives and fruit cocktail. It wasn’t the worst Thanksgiving meal he’d ever had.

Jess said a short blessing.

Mannie closed his eyes and held his tongue.

BeeGee said, “Amen.”

They ate with gusto. No one spoke.

The dogs scratched at the door.

Finishing off the last bits of fruit, Mannie said, “Thanks, Jess. That was a great idea.”

“Thanks, I...” Jess looked up from her plate; her eyes grew large. “Uh oh.”

Mannie spun to the front door. The dogs whimpered and howled. But a larger shadow crossed the glass. A wild-eyed dog-man stared in. “Shit.” The pack of dogs was larger than before.

Mannie didn’t want to face another rabid attack. He raced to the door and flipped the deadbolt in place. “Okay. Let’s throw the food out the front windows and then get out the back door.” He took a butcher knife and hacked more of the ham into large hunks. The center was still frozen.

“BeeGee, get the back door open and see if it’s clear.” He handed the plate of ham to Jess. “Hand ‘em to me when I get the window open.”

“Only one dog, back here,” BeeGee called.

“He’ll come around front, I think.” Mannie jerked the window aside and shoved the screen out. He tossed the ham past the furthest dog to attract the starved and vacant-eyed creatures. Jess followed suit. The dogs and the dog-man mobbed toward it.

“It’s headed around front,” BeeGee yelled. “I’m going.”

Mannie pushed Jess toward the back door. “Run.”

Jess tore toward the back of the restaurant with Mannie close behind. Mannie hopped in Rubi and cranked her up. They spun past the pack as they fought for their meals.

About 15 minutes later they turned onto US 491, BeeGee muttered something and Mannie thought he saw her cross herself in the rear view mirror.

“You okay, BeeGee?”

“Fine.” She nodded. “Say your prayers.”

“Why?”

“This highway used to be Route 666. It’s the real Highway to Hell, The Devil’s Road. Weird things happen.”

Mannie smirked and Jess stifled a giggle.

“Laugh if you want. There’s skinwalkers, dead girls, haunted semis.”

“Well,” Mannie said, watching BeeGee in the rear view mirror, “there probably are a lot of dead folks hereabouts, but I don’t expect to see them.”

“If you’re lucky,” BeeGee said and her focus returned to her phone.

Night darkened fully and with no city lights around the stars came out by the thousands. Mannie drove in silence, they were all lost in their own thoughts. The snow started to fall as he pulled the Jeep in at a motel in Dove Creek, Colorado. He had put as many miles behind them as he could for the day.