The Last Mile Trilogy Read online

“Sure.” Another shrug from Bishop. “But I wanted to see if it was really there. Plus, I got to car surf. It’s fun. I loved doing that growing up.”

  “Dude,” Nick said. “That was cool. And you know what else is cool? The way you shot. I didn’t tell you. Man, how’d you learn to shoot that good?”

  Very smugly, Bishop replied, “Green Berets.”

  Robi turned her head. “The Green Berets?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah.” Bishop nodded. He reached down and lifted the shotgun as if he were going to play with it.

  Robi extended her hand and lowered the weapon. “The Green Berets? You were in the Green Berets. I had no idea you were military. Especially military of that caliber.”

  “Hell yeah,” Bishop said, “seven years— decorated, too.”

  “Why did you leave?” Robi asked. “Was your tour up, or were you dismissed?”

  “I quit. My time was done and I opted not to rejoin.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “The hat,” Bishop stated. “I hated the hat.”

  “The beret?” Robi asked.

  “Yeah, hated it. I didn’t think we’d have to wear them. And…” he cringed, “they were an awful shade of green.”

  “Green?” Robi barked. “It didn’t dawn on you when you joined the Green Berets that you’d have to wear a green beret?”

  “Nope.” Bishop snickered, and then nudged her. “I’m kidding. I wasn’t in the service. I learned to shoot like that from the video game Green Berets. I was the champ.”

  “Dude, I love that game,” Nick said. “It’s really old school, though.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you youngsters can’t hang with it,” Bishop said. “I have yet to be knocked out of the top score. Well, the top three. Alien Nation, now that’s a challenge.”

  Robi rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He learned to shoot from a video game.”

  “Up there.” Bishop pointed. “See?”

  Robi peered. “The turn sign?”

  “Yeah, bet that’s it. Turn signal.”

  “It’s on.”

  “Slow down.”

  Robi barked, “I am! God!” she edged into her turn, then slowed down to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dog check.” She reached between the seats for her gun. “Plus, there’s a gate.”

  “I got an idea,” Bishop said. “Pull up as close as you can to the gate and stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it,” he instructed, and then hand signaled to Manny and the others, behind them.

  Robi inched toward the gate.

  From the front seat of their vehicle, Manny and Greek both released the same “oh” of discovery.

  Manny hit his hand on off the wheel as if he were smacking himself on the forehead. “So that’s what he was trying to tell us.”

  Greek chuckled with a shake of his head. “I was wondering what the hell he was saying to us from the roof of that car.”

  Doc leaned his head between the two seats. “I thought he was showing off his car surfing skills.”

  “Look at him,” Manny said, with an upward motion of his head.

  Bishop had opened the gate, waved to both cars, and then climbed from the hood of the Humvee to the roof, where he crouched like a crow on watch, rifle in hand.

  Robi started to drive forward and Manny followed.

  Manny kept shaking his head. “Is he on look out?”

  “I think so,” Greek replied.

  “Aliens,” Doc said.

  Manny scoffed. “I’m thinking more like dogs.”

  Greek took in the tree-lined road. “I think he’s trying to impress Robi.”

  Manny nodded. “Won’t work.”

  Greek shook his head. “Won’t work?”

  Manny started to laugh.

  “What? What?” Greek wanted in on the joke.

  “OK,” Manny snorted a laugh. “Suppose … suppose he is trying to impress her. What if he falls off?”

  “Oh, man.” Greek started to laugh.

  “Or … shit.” Manny hit the brakes. “Fuck me. What. . . ”

  It was a blur when it came in from the left. It moved fast, crossing the road, slamming into Bishop and sending him flying off the roof of the Humvee.

  Manny and Greek didn’t realize it was a man, until the rope swung back and he dropped onto the roof of Robi’s vehicle.

  “Christ, he’s huge.” Manny grabbed his rifle and opened the door.

  “What the fuck is he doing?” Robi automatically looked up when she heard something hit the roof of the car with so much force it shook the car. Putting the car in park, she yelled, “Bishop!” Annoyed, she opened the car door and then turned, leaned down and grabbed her shotgun. Sitting up, she turned to push the door open and then uttered a scream as she stared into the face of a man at her window, pointing a gun at her face.

  Robi shot out her leg, kicked open the door and sent the man flying back. Weapon in hand, she jumped from the vehicle. Before she had a chance to raise her weapon and aim, she felt the cold hardness of gun barrel pressed to her head from above.

  “Drop it,” a deep voice ordered.

  Robi didn’t. She shifted her eyes to the left. She saw Manny with his hands raised in the air.

  “Mom?” Nick called from the car.

  “Stay put,” Robi said.

  “And I said …” the man repeated, seeming to fall from the sky as he dropped from the roof, and landed next to Robi, gun still at her head, “lower your weapon now …please.”

  Robi shifted her eyes to the right.

  A chest.

  “Fuck,” she whispered and raised her head. Up … way up. He looked military with his black hair buzzed close to his head and wearing a white tee shirt and camo pants. He held a revolver on her and she slowly lowered her weapon.

  “Good girl,” he said, then shifted his eyes from Robi. “You got her?”

  “Yeah,” another male voice responded.

  “Good.” He looked at Robi once more, winked, smiled and pivoted. He took off around the front of the Humvee.

  Robi looked at her the man who now held her. He wasn’t as tall as the other man, but tall nonetheless. He had blonde hair and more of a boyish look. “Can I put my hands down?” she asked. “This becomes painful and tedious.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, then pulled her away from the car and shut the door.

  “Mom.” Nick raced from around the car.

  The man immediately took aim on Nick.

  Upon seeing this, Robi, realizing her captor’s distraction and with protecting of her son in mind, doubled her hands and swung them hard into his gut.

  With a grunt, he doubled forward.

  Robi swept up her shotgun and swung it into the back of his knees. He buckled and slumped to the ground. She pumped the gun and put it to his head.

  “Man,” he said. “You are kicking my ass today.” He coughed and raised his hands. “Jeb!” he called.

  From a distance the other man responded, “I’m looking for the lost boy.”

  “Jeb! We got problems.”

  “Fuck!” Jeb blasted and within a second appeared. “Now what … fuck, Tate,” he said in disgust.

  “Put your gun down,” Robi ordered.

  “No,” Jeb returned, and aimed at her, “you put your gun down.”

  “I have a gun to his head!” Robi yelled.

  “And what?” Jeb blasted. “You gonna shoot my brother? Did I shoot you? No! Put the gun down!”

  “You’re aiming at me! I’m aiming at him. Choose. Put your gun down.”

  Very calmly Bishop said, “Put your gun down,” as he approached Jeb from behind.

  “Un-fuckin-believable,” Jeb said with a twitch of his head, and then turned quickly and taking aim at Bishop. “Stand down, little man, you’re on my property. All of you are. Now...,” he ordered. “Get your aim off my brother! Do it now!” He then pointed to Tate. “And you … what the hell is the matter with
you?” He grabbed Tate and lifted him to his feet.

  Tate laughed. “This is pretty amusing, don’t you think?”

  “No, I don’t think.”

  “I do.” With a swipe of his hand, Tate straightened his hair and turned to a bewildered Robi and extended his hand. “Tate Hoyt.”

  “Roberta …but, people call me Robi.” She shook hands with him.

  “Robi. Hey. Nice to meet you.”

  “Wait. Stop.” Robi made a ‘T’ her hands. “What the hell is going on? First we get attacked, then we get welcomed?”

  Jeb stepped forward. “You trespassed; we couldn’t be sure who you were. Are you here to loot or curious to see if anyone was here?”

  Robi shifted her eyes to her crew, then to Jeb. “To be honest. We were here to get some of the food.”

  “Loot,” Jeb said.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “But now … we’re curious.”

  Jeb and Tate welcomed the honesty of their visitors and their attitude did seem to change; they were glad to be around others. The two Humvees followed Jeb and Tate from the tree lined road to a dirt driveway that went up hill to an older, well kept, farmhouse.

  They parked out front.

  The long front porch took up the entire length of the house. Jeb stood on the top step. Robi was the first to approach. “This is very nice.”

  “I think so,” Jeb said. “This way.”

  Tate was already at the door, and Jeb opened it. A soon as he did, the shrill wail of a baby rang out.

  This made Robi pause.

  “Fuck.” Jeb shook his head in disgust and walked in the house. “She’s crying again, Tate.”

  “What?” Tate followed Jeb inside. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “You have to give her something that will keep her from crying,” Jeb griped.

  Robi, leading the others, just walked in despite the bickering of the brothers.

  “I did,” Tate said. “I gave her a doll.”

  A playpen was set up against the far wall of the living room. Jeb towered above it as he peered down at the contents.

  Sitting up, face red, a little girl about nine months old screamed and cried.

  “Hey!” Jeb scolded. “Quiet.”

  The baby kept crying.

  “Maybe you should hold her,” Tate suggested.

  “I did yesterday, remember? For about ten minutes. Fuck.” Jeb winced. “You know what?” He reached down and lifted the child as if she were something deadly. Arms out, holding the girl far from him, Jeb turned and extended the child to Robi. “Let her deal with it.”

  “Me?” Robi asked. “Why? Because I’m a woman?”

  “No, you’re a mom,” Jeb replied with a twitch of his head to Nick.

  “Fine.” Robi took the child into her arms and groaned, “She’s soaking wet. God! No wonder she’s screaming.”

  Tate looked at Jeb. “I thought you were gonna change her this morning.”

  Smugly, Jeb replied, “I did. So there. It’s not my fault she’s wet. Maybe she spilled that cup of water we gave her.” Jeb reached into the playpen. “She did.”

  Robi sighed out in annoyance and then spoke loudly over the child’s cry. “You gave her a cup of water? Not a bottle? Let me ask you two something. Obviously, holding her is not working; have you tried food?”

  Tate pointed to Jeb. “He was in charge of that today.”

  “Why am I in charge of everything?” Jeb barked.

  “Hey!” Robi yelled. “Where are the diapers?”

  Jeb lifted a bag. “There’re only two left, so don’t screw up when you put it on.” He handed her one.

  “I’ll try not to.” Robi snatched the diaper. “You two can’t possibly be this helpless when it comes to a baby.”

  Tate and Jeb just looked at each other, then to Robi with a shrug.

  Robi huffed. “The drop happened two months ago, how did you manage this long?”

  Jeb fluttered his lips. “We’ve only had her a few days. Some guy dropped her here along with that bag and took off. Which … I don’t blame him, she hasn’t stopped crying since.”

  Grunting in disgust, Robi said, “Nick, will you go find their kitchen, get me a pan of warm soapy water?” She then spun to Tate. “You. Find me a washcloth. And you,” she said pointing to Jeb, “you clean up her playpen and find me fresh clothes for her.”

  “I don’t think anything I have will fit,” Jeb replied.

  “What!” Robi screamed. “Fuck.” She gave a sign of desperation. “Manny?”

  Manny held up a hand. “I’ll handle it. Go take her in another room. That crying …”

  “Yeah, I know.” Robi soothed the baby. “It’s OK,” she whispered “We’ll take care of you.”

  Jeb leaned into his brother. “That’s a relief,” he muttered.

  Robi gave him a cold stare and shifted her eyes to Bishop. “Can you give Nick a hand and see if there’s anything to eat in there that we can mash up?”

  “Sure thing,” Bishop said and walked out.

  Jeb shook his head. “Look at her, coming in here, barking orders and taking over our …”

  “Hey!” Robi blasted.

  Jeb and Tate looked at her innocently.

  Calmer, Robi said, “Do what I ask. I am taking care of this situation.”

  Just as she started to leave the room Jeb called out, “Are you drowning her?”

  Robi skidded to a stop. “Excuse me?”

  Tate snickered,

  “The water,” Jeb said. “Is that what …?”

  “No! You asshole! God!” Robi stormed out.

  Jeb shrugged and looked at his brother. “I thought it was a good question.”

  “I would have asked it,” Tate said.

  “Man, she’s like a drill sergeant,” Jeb said, exhaling loudly. He then noticed the smirk on Greek’s face and said, “What?”

  Greek chuckled. “Welcome to our Robi world.”

  <><><><>

  They found rolled oats and a can of carrots. There were other items, but Robi decided that’s what she’d feed the little girl.

  Using a belt, phonebooks and towels, Robi created a makeshift highchair and strapped the child in to feed her.

  “Whoa. That’s amazing,” Jeb said as he entered the dining room. “She’s not crying.”

  “It’s amazing how good a fed and dry baby can be.”

  Jeb leaned down to the child and sniffed. “She doesn’t stink anymore.”

  “A bath will do that,” Robi said, focused on feeding the child. Then added, I thought I gave strict orders for everyone to leave me alone.”

  “Is it difficult?”

  “What? Feeding her?” Robi said. “No, she needs to eat and not be distracted. Of course, she doesn’t notice you. That’s a good thing.” Robi caught the food that dribbled from the baby’s bottom lip and placed it in her mouth.

  “Why did you do that? I saw you do that twice.”

  “Do what?”

  “Obviously, if she spit the food out, she doesn’t want it,” Jeb said. “Why do you keep forcing her to eat it?”

  Robi huffed. “Is there something you wanted?”

  “We went into town for the things you asked for the baby. We got the items.”

  “Any dogs?” Robi asked.

  “As in?”

  “Dogs. Killer Attack.”

  “Where?”

  “Forget it.” Robi lifted a spoon to the girl. “What’s her name?”

  “Whose? Hers?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeb shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you bother giving her one?”

  “No. We were too busy trying to figure out what we were gonna do with her. Now we know. You.”

  “You think I’m taking responsibility for this baby?”

  “Uh, yeah. You really want us to have it?”

  “Uh ...yeah,” Robi answered in the same way. “And as long as we are all together, we’ll all do it.”

  Jeb
waved out his hand. “That’s what you say, but the female in you will take over and you’ll …”

  “Hey!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be such a male chauvinist.”

  “Ok.” Jeb shrugged.

  “And she’s done. I think...” Robi said as she lifted the child from her makeshift highchair, “I think I’ll call her Martha.”

  “Martha? Martha?” Jeb laughed. “You can’t call a baby Martha.”

  “It’s better than Hey You.”

  “True.”

  “She’s needs a bottle,” Robi said. “Did you guys pick up the bottles and the canned milk?” she asked as she carried the baby across the room.

  “Yes. In the kitchen. I don’t know why you need that though. Don’t your breasts do that?”

  Robi only glared, and kept on walking.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Do I look like a fuckin’ farmer to you?” Those words said a lot about Jeb Hoyt’s personality. Manny had merely complimented him about how nice his farm was and that was the response he got.

  The Hoyt brothers were complete opposites in some ways and identical in others.

  Robi had a hard time believing they were really brothers. Tate was the younger of the two. He had a pleasant personality, smiled a lot and was handsome in a boyish way with his blond hair and blue eyes. It was hard to tell how old he was. Tate was the type of man that took everything in stride … at least that’s what Robi thought.

  Now Jeb was a different story. Definitely not as easy going as Tate, he had darker features. He was a large man in height and with a slight bulk to him—not too much. His black hair might look stylish if it weren’t buzzed so close to his scalp. He looked forty-five, claimed to be thirty-five and acted eight.

  Both brothers were the product of a military family and were in the service themselves. Both were stationed in North Carolina when the drop occurred. They’d headed home to Ohio afterward to look for their father—no luck. It was then they decided to turn around and head back to this farm which they had seen on their way up.

  It was luck. Their plan was to tend and harvest the crops, although they hadn’t a clue on where to begin.

  And with a well-stocked truck, they, too, planned to eventually head to So-Cal, or rather ‘the other coast’ as they called it. They’d heard the signal calls as well