Eve Langlais - Apocalypse Cowboy

“Calm down, kitten. I’ll find her.” Brody lied, not knowing what else to say with Hannah so crazed with worry over her sister’s disappearance.

“How?” wailed Hannah. “She could be anywhere. What if she’s hurt? Oh god. This is all my fault.” She collapsed on the couch, her face buried in her hands while her shoulders shook.

Brody wanted to shake Beth ‘til her teeth rattled for doing this to her sister. Ungrateful, little brat. “I am pretty sure she’ll have headed to that Amish settlement. I’ll hunt around for another bike and go looking for her. I’ll bring her back, I promise.”

Brody rode Hannah’s pedal bike into town, glad no one could see him on the pink bike. He had a vague idea about who might own a motorcycle and headed straight for Joe Franton’s home with its large two-car garage. Brody remembered Joe had talked about getting himself a Harley.

Bingo!

Opening the garage door with a noisy creak , Brody sent up a quick amen. Covered by a tarp, he found a motorcycle and not just any bike: a Harley Ultra Classic. He ran his hand over the fat tank and shook his head at the oversized seat for the driver and the just as comfortable one for a passenger replete with arm and backrests.

Brody couldn’t help grinning. While he loved his Harley Sportster, the Ultra Classic was a motorcycle made for two, and he knew who he’d like sitting behind him.

Grabbing a gas jug, he jogged down the road to the gas station only to find the pumps dry. But he had learned a trick or two on his cross-country trip, and he quickly found a length of hose he used to siphon the derelict cars that littered the town. Pouring the gas into the tank, Brody then faced a new dilemma.

Keys?

Bracing himself, he entered the tomblike home, dust motes floating in the air. Luck on his side, Brody found the bike keys on a peg board along with others. On the way out, he noticed a framed image of Joe, straddling the very same motorcycle in his garage, a big grin on his face. He felt a moment’s pang for Joe who hadn’t gotten to enjoy much of a retirement.

So many people had found their lives cut short and even now the world was not a safe place, something he should have stressed more to Beth. But, given her headstrong, spoiled nature, he doubted it would have had an impact.

The bike of course didn’t start when he turned the key, the battery long dead. Wheeling it out into the sunshine, Brody rolled it a few blocks to the one incline in town. He pedaled the ground with his feet, Flintstone style. When the bike gained some forward momentum, he pulled in the clutch and popped it into second.

With a coughing stutter, the engine roared to life, and Brody cranked the throttle, clearing dust from its workings. The growling sound of the bike brought Hannah running out of the house, and Brody’s groin tightened looking at her. He loved her so much even with her tear-streaked face.

“I’ve packed some food and clothes,” she said gesturing to some bundles behind her.

“You should go with him,” said Fred wheeling out onto the porch.

“What?” Hannah’s face creased in puzzlement. “I can’t. I’ve got to stay with you.”

“Oh for Christ sake girl, I been taking care of myself a lot longer than you’ve been born. Go with him. Find your fool sister and that Amish village. I can take care of myself for a week or so. Besides, if you stay here, you’ll just drive me nuts.”

“Are you sure?”

Brody could see Hannah’s need to care for her uncle warring with that of seeing her sister safe.

Fred snorted and when she flew into his arms hugging the old man’s frail body, Brody felt a lump. He sure as hell hoped they all came back. Fred would be all right for a few weeks on his own but, with winter approaching, they needed to get back before the snow made roads impassable.

“Let me just pack a few things.” Hannah bustled into the house.

Brody looked at Fred. “Are you sure, Fred?”

“Hannah needs to see the world outside of this town. This Amish village might be what she needs, what we all need. If things look good, then come back and get me. Beth is right about one thing, this town is dead. If we’re going to rebuild, we need to be around people.”

“We’ll be back,” Brody promised.

“Of course you will, son,” said the old man. “You got protection I assume?”

For a second Brody misunderstood and blushed thinking Fred was asking if he had condoms-an item that also had expiration dates, not that he wanted to use any. He’d love to see Hannah pregnant with his babe. But Fred meant another kind of protection. Brody opened the mini pouch strapped over the tank and pulled out the revolver he’d stashed in there, a more comfortable spot than shoved down the backside of his jeans. “Never leave home without one.” He also had another gun stowed in the saddlebags as a backup, although he fervently hoped they didn’t run into anything that caused them to need the protection of a gun.

Hannah came back out of the house, a knapsack dangling from her hand. Kissing her uncle and admonishing him not to overdo it, she approached Brody and held out her bag, which he stowed in the large, rigid side compartments.

Straddling the bike, he looked at her and waited as she gnawed her lip. With a creased face, she looked at her uncle and the only home she’d ever known.

“I’ll bring you back, I swear,” said Brody.

Taking a deep breath, she clambered behind him on the passenger pillion and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Let’s go find my sister,” she said bravely, but Brody could hear the worry and fear underlying her words.

With a roar, he sped off on the bike without looking back, unable to shake the feeling that nothing would be the same again.

Hannah clung to Brody as he drove down the debris strewn road. Beth had hours on them and Hannah, looking around at the streaming landscape, really had to wonder if they’d be able to find her. This could be worse than searching for a needle in a haystack.

Brody hadn’t been joking when he’d said the roads weren’t car friendly. He spent a lot of time slowing down to detour and weave around vehicles abandoned on the road, some of which still had the remains of occupants.

Closing her eyes, Hannah leaned her head on Brody’s strong back. A sense of loss consumed her. Why does it feel like I’ll never come home again? Which was absurd. Even if by some miracle she decided to live elsewhere, she’d be coming back to pack up Uncle Fred and the house.

It didn’t matter what her head said though, her heart remained steadfast in its belief. Hannah tried thinking of Beth instead, a subject that worried her even more than coming home. Is she okay? What if she gets lost? Or runs into a psycho? Will I ever see her again? Oh please don’t let our last words to each other be angry ones.

A few hours from home, they entered the first decent sized city on their route. Brody took them to the center of the city, a thing of dead neon signs, some of which hung drunkenly. Slowing he stopped the bike by a gas station that looked like a derelict parking lot.

“Let’s stretch our legs for a few minutes and eat something,” he said, getting off the bike and stretching his body.

Hannah followed suit, her cramped muscles protesting as she unfolded herself from the hunch she’d adopted on the bike. She stared in morbid fascination at the buildings around her. It had been one thing to see her small town deserted with only the tumbleweed missing to mark it as a ghost town, but quite another to have towering skyscrapers and surprisingly intact storefronts lining the too quiet street.