Joshua Gayou - Commune - Book One

“I don’t think so,” said Jake. “Look, we’re going to have to get good at this kind of thing. It’s not like we get to Billy’s cabin and we’re suddenly done. We’ll still have to go out on a regular basis and scrounge for supplies. The more opportunities we get to practice, the better we’ll get. Think of today as a trial run.”

I contemplated diving into the experiences of that day on a regular basis. “Ugh. We’d better start collecting hard liquor. I’ll need to take up drinking just to keep my nerves steady.”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Jake said, waving my statement away with a hand. “You’re only saying that because you’re still keyed up from yesterday. It’ll get routine, I’m sure. You can get used to anything given enough iterations.”

“Iterations?” I said. I was wondering what kind of person used the word ‘iterations’ as part of their everyday conversation. “Jake, what did you do for a living?” It struck me that I knew next to nothing about him.

“This and that,” he said without offering elaboration. “So, what do we have in the way of music?”

“You name it,” I said. I noticed his obvious deflection but chose not to pursue it. “Bowie, Skynyrd, Taylor Swift, Eminem…there’s Prince, Starboy…”

“Starboy?” he interrupted. “What exactly is a Starboy?”

“R&B singer,” I said. “Let’s see… I’m not seeing any Cash in here. Oh, here’s some Elvis! Uh, Beatles… Radiohead, Mastodon, AC/DC…”

“Why don’t you just pick something?”

“Well,” I said while I thumbed through a few more cases. “Can’t go wrong with Black Keys, I suppose.”

“Yeah, they’re good,” Jake agreed. “Spin it!”

“Spin…it?” I asked.

“Never mind.”

I pulled the power inverter out of its packaging and loaded it into the cigarette lighter in the dashboard. Following that, I got out the CD player, unwrapped the CD (struggling to get all of the annoying cellophane into an orderly ball) and loaded it up. The slow, distorted growl of Dan Auerbach’s guitar began to claw its way out of the speakers not long after I hit the play button and “All You Ever Wanted” filled the cab of the Jeep as we rolled up the 15. I had no idea what was coming next, but the simple act of riding in a car with music playing helped to inject the illusion of normalcy back into my life for at least a little while. I looked over at Jake and caught him grinning out of the corner of my eye. I could almost forget the rifle I had wedged between my seat and the door.

We drove a steady and consistent pace for the next three and a half hours before Billy’s truck was pulling off toward an exit. Rather than taking the exit outright, he pulled over and slowed to a crawl in the middle of the highway. He stuck his arm out of the window and waved us forward. Jake complied, and I rolled down my window so we could talk to him.

“What’s up?” Jake asked.

“I want to make a stop at this place here,” he said, hooking his thumb toward a large, square looking building a few hundred feet to the East of us. It stood by itself, alone in a vast field—about as middle of nowhere as you’d please. It had large, red letters on the front of it that read “ barnes. ”

“What is it?” I asked. I felt my stomach tighten at the prospect of another building sweep. I had convinced myself we wouldn’t be doing this again until after we made it to Wyoming. My discussion with Jake had suggested that we may be at it again before we got there. I was utterly unprepared for the prospect of doing it only a few hours after the last excursion.

“They sold ammo and reloading supplies. I had this marked as a stop on my route since day one, just like the Vegas stop.”

I put my eyes forward and cursed under my breath. Ammunition of any kind was simply too important to pass up. I think Jake must have known what was going through my head because he said, “What do you think about sitting this one out? You got the last building. I’ll take this one. Gets boring standing outside, yes?”

I looked at him, trying to decide if I should be annoyed. The look in his eyes was perfectly serious and without guile; I decided to be touched instead. “You did say that I would have to get used to this,” I reminded him.

“Well, I did, but this is a bit much,” he told me. He nodded to Billy and waved him on, signaling that we would follow. “I figure we can spell each other. Billy has to go every time if he’s going to insist on stopping every few miles…” he trailed off as we took the 300 North Street exit.

I considered his offer but ultimately decided to reject it. “No,” I said, “you get the next one. Like you said, this probably gets easier the more I do it. I’d prefer ‘easy’ to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Well, I can respect that,” he said. “You’re on. I’ll take the next one.”

“Do you mind if Lizzy stays with you?” I asked. “It didn’t seem like a big deal last time until we got into the building. Once we were in there, it became clear how dangerous it actually was.”

Jake scratched his chin and was silent a moment. “You sure you’re comfortable with that? I failed miserably the last time we tried-“

“No. No, you didn’t,” I interrupted. “You went and got her back. At great risk to your own life, you got her back. You fought for her as hard as her own father would have.” I stopped talking as his whole demeanor changed. Any bit of latent expression sloughed from his face completely, leaving a half-lidded, dead stare in its place. It was the kind of look actors assumed in movies when they had to pretend to be hypnotized. This was the first time I had witnessed this change in him, but it would not be the last; I would later learn that this is the exact same expression he wears when he decides to kill someone. I had forgotten to be afraid of him as I became used to his manner and company, even enjoyed having him around. This look reminded me why I had feared him when we first met.

I looked away from him and suppressed a shudder. “Anyway, I know she’s as safe with you as she’d be with me,” I said and let the matter drop.

“Yeah…” I heard him say from about a hundred miles away.

Billy attempted to lead us around the back of the building as we had done earlier that morning, but there was actually no “back” to drive around to. There was a firing range immediately behind the building, which they must have used to test the ammunition that was made on site. He drove us around to the south side of the building as a compromise, and we backed in there.

We all got out of the vehicles and Billy promptly came over to throw a monkey wrench into our planning.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like how visible we are from the road. All three of you hang out here by the vehicles, and I’ll go through this place myself. You have good visibility; if you see anything coming lay on the horn and I’ll come out.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked. “One of us can lay on the horn just as well as three.”

“I am. I want you guys to be able to support each other if a group comes along. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

We checked our rifles and leaned them against the truck. He opened a rear door on the Jeep for Lizzy to hop into and then leaned against the bed of the truck to eyeball the road. Billy tried the side door and found it unlocked this time. “Well, that’s not a hopeful sign,” he muttered. “Be right back.” He disappeared into the door, shotgun and flashlight in tow.

We weren’t waiting out there very long, maybe only five or ten minutes. Jake and Lizzy chatted about the music selection that had ended up in the truck. She had apparently been schooling Billy on some of the very best Lady Gaga had to offer all afternoon. Their conversation was interrupted by Billy bursting from the building.