Hugo, Jacob, Carmen, Dylan and Rosy began on foot to Bakersfield, the next biggest city north of them. There were very few cars along the highway, and the few that remained were locked or raided. The highway twisted and turned through the hills which eventually turned into borderline mountains. Occasionally a wanderer would appear from the wilderness, but a quick rock to the head would end their wandering.
By sunset the group had reached a small town named Gorman. It had a strip mall, three gas stations, and a Mcdonald’s right next to the highway exit. Scattered about were some corpses, luggage and trash.
The group walked down the exit ramp to examine the strip mall, when in front of one of the shops was an old man in a rocking chair. The shop used to be an antiques store.
“Can I help you?” said the old man, glaring at the group. He was unshaven and had a nasty look in his eye. Sitting up straight, he revealed a shotgun in his lap. “Not so fast,” he said, pointing the gun at the group. They stopped about several yards across the parking lot with their hands up.
“Do you have food?” Hugo asked, sheepishly.
Carmen stepped aside, into the man’s view, showing they had a baby with them.
“That's your baby?” said the man with a scowl.
“No. Her mom was shot,” Hugo answered.
“Hrmh,” the man responded, lowering his gun slightly. “I got beans.”
“Beans are good. Thank you,” Hugo answered.
“Stay here,” the man said. He got up from his chair and waddled into the shop. After about 30 seconds he came back with a grocery bag of canned beans. “Here,” he said, and tossed it a few feet before him. He sat back in the chair with the shotgun in his lap.
Hugo crept forward, stepping carefully towards the bag before bending over to grab it.
“Where you from?” the man asked.
“Uh, L.A.,” Hugo answered. He dug through the bag with his hand.
“L.A.? Heard they bombed it,” the man said.
“Yeah. Uh, do you happen to have a can opener?” Hugo asked.
“No. That's why I got so many cans,” the man answered. “Where ya headed?”
“Bakersfield,” Hugo said.
“Bakersfield?” The man scoffed. “Better off going back to L.A. Nothing but druggies and gangs up there now. You want to stay alive? Don't. Go. To. Bakersfield.”
“Sorry,” Hugo said as he began walking to the group. “I don't have a choice.”
“Hey mister,” Jacob said from across the pavement. “You got another gun?”
The man paused, looking down at his lap. His scowl turned to sadness.
“I ain't got nothing left,” he said.
Hugo turned to look at the man, confused at the remark.
BANG
It echoed through the mountain range. The wall behind the man’s head was painted with his own blood. The gun dropped to the floor beside the chair.
Rosy began to cry again. The group took shelter in the shop for the night. There was no other food in or around the shops, nor rounds for the gun but Jacob took it anyway. Dylan locked the door with a wooden plank through the handle.
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No one said another word for the rest of the night.
Hugo pried open a can against a metal beam. It was still relatively fresh so the group ate. They settled down onto the carpeted floor of the shop and struggled to fall asleep. All of them replayed the old man’s death in their head over and over.
Rosy woke them up the next morning. They had all gotten little-to-no sleep. Stepping out of the shop, they squinted at the rising sun. The bags under their eyes were heavy and they yawned repeatedly the first hour of the day.
After packing up whatever cans and scraps they could find, they continued out to Bakersfield.
Walking along the highway, Carmen walked beside Hugo. Dylan was holding Rosy; his limp was almost gone.
“What are we going to do after we find your sister?” Carmen asked.
“I'm thinking about Yosemite. We’ve been there a few times over the years. Is kinda our safe place.”
“I’ve never been. What’s it like?” Carmen asked.
“Well, it's this beautiful mountain range with a valley in the center.” Hugo’s face lit up and he used his hands to draw the shape of the mountains in the air. “There's a valley in the middle of the mountains that has all these little shops and houses. On the drive into the valley there’s a little spot where you can park and look over the entire area, and you can't even see the buildings so it just looks like forest all the way into the distance. And the fresh air! It's so different.”
“Wow. Seems like it must be great.” Carmen said with a bit of hope. “Can't wait to get there.”
She and Hugo dimly smiled at each other.
—
As the highway exited the mountain range and the group entered the central valley of California, the sun began to set.
They were tired, alone. The vast emptiness of the valley made them feel small and Bakersfield was just beyond the horizon.
The next stop on the highway was a small collection of buildings. The sign on the exit ramp was labeled “Grapevine”. It had two restaurants and an inn, all of which seemed raided and destroyed. The group took shelter in one of the inn’s rooms for the night. If they listened closely a slight creaking could be heard coming from the other rooms.
The next morning they were woken up by Rosy again. Running low on resources to continue feeding and changing her, they broke into some abandoned cars. Having to use whatever scraps they can find. Grumbling stomachs left them in an unhappy mood.
Jacob would avoid looking at Rosy during these times.
—
Drawing nearer to Bakersfield, they passed through acres of farmland. Some were either burnt, looted, or trampled over. Occasionally a wanderer could be seen out in the fields tripping over a rock. The further they went, more wanderers appeared, but it wouldn't be a problem until they spotted something out in the distance.
“Look, what’s that?” said Jacob, pointing out to a field.
Hugo glanced over. “No way.” He handed Rosy to Carmen and proceeded to run out into the field, towards a dormant helicopter. Weaving through two or so wanderers, he came to the open doors of the cockpit to find the vessel empty. He exhaled through his nose, leaning onto the side of the helicopter with his head down.
Dylan led Jacob and Carmen through the field, knocking out any wanderers with a wooden stake that he found at the inn.
“What is it?” Dylan asked, stepping closer to Hugo.
“She was here,” Hugo looked up and examined the area around them. He noticed a jumble of footprints in the dirt as well as a few tire tracks, all of which came from and went north. As Hugo’s eyes traced one of the tire tracks, he noticed a head duck down behind a jumble of crops. “Hey!” Hugo shouted. He pushed himself off the copter and ran to where the head was. Dylan and the others followed.
Hugo’s stomach started to hurt as he sprinted, and he started losing energy quick. He placed his hands on his knees to catch his breath but once he stood up he forgot where exactly the head was. Stepping forward carefully, he listened for anything.
Rustle went a bush straight ahead of him. With his remaining energy he dashed to the bush and pounced at the person behind it who tried to run.
“Who are you?! What happened here!” Hugo shouted. He pinned the person to the ground, realizing it was a very skinny woman. She was covered in freckles, wore a crop top, and the tips of her hair were dyed orange. Her face was decorated in piercings.
“Get off me!” she said, raising a pocket knife to Hugo’s neck. He quickly snatched it from her hand as her grip was not very strong and held it to her neck.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said a deeper voice. A large combat knife with a serrated edge appeared before Hugo’s eyes and moved to his neck. He tossed the smaller knife aside and got up from the woman. The one holding the combat knife kept it to Hugo's neck as he turned around to Dylan. The man looked to be 7 feet tall, had dark skin with long dreads and also was extremely skinny.
Hugo held out his hand to Dylan and the others who were coming to help. They stopped in their tracks and waited hesitantly.
“Nah, we ain't gonna mess around with this one,” the man said with a calm voice to the woman.