Afterwrath: Part One - Station

call him back.”

  Burk shook his head. “Sorry, Lauren, but I’ve fixed his mistakes too many times. If I keep stepping in, he’ll never learn-” The phone went off again, startling him. Joey again.

  “Could be a sign,” Lauren said crossing her arms. Burk knew that if he didn’t answer, he’d hear about it later.

  “Fine,” Burk replied. “I’ll see what he wants.”

  Burk slid his thumb across the answer button. “Joey? What could be so important-”

  “They’re after me, Burk,” Joey said quickly. “Bro, I’m runnin for my life. They think I ran one of them over. Killed one of ‘em.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “I didn’t do it, Burk. I didn’t, I swear. But they won’t listen.”

  “Wait,” Burk said, putting up a hand. “Calm down, Joey. Who’s coming after you?”

  “The boss, bro. He sent some guys after me. Red Jim’s men are comin’ to find me.”

  “Joey, you’re not making any sense. I don’t know-”

  “Red Jim! Of the Death Riders! That wanted guy.”

  Terror stabbed Burk like a thousand syringes. “You mean the leader of the biggest bike gang in the midwest? What the hell were you thinking getting involved with them?”

  “I just wanted… for people to respect me, you know? I wanted to be cool, bro. Like you.”

  Burk rose to his feet, looking for his shoes.

  “What is it?” Lauren asked.

  Burk held out his hand in a hold on gesture.

  “Where are you, Joey? I’m coming to get you-” Static inducing gunshots cracked through the phone.

  “Shit, bro! They found me! Gotta be quiet now. Goin east along highway 801. Try to stay ahead of ‘em, ya know? Bye, bro.” There came a click, followed by silence.

  “Joey? Joey! Where are you!” Burk glanced at the screen. Call ended. He frantically punched redial, but his call went straight to voicemail. “Joey, call me when you can. Tell me where you are.” He let the phone drop to the grass.

  Lauren put her hand on his cheek. “He’ll be okay.”

  Burk placed his hand over hers. “You don’t know that. And I…” He struggled at the words. “I don’t even know where he is.”

  “He’ll call back. And then you’ll be there to help him.”

  The call never came.

  7

  The day broke orange and hot like it usually did. When he finally recognized where he was, pain and depression claimed him. His leg looked worse than he’d imagined. It had crusted over in dried blood and dirt. He considered scraping away the particles, but what was the point? He was probably going to die out here anyway.

  His head was already throbbing and his mouth dry before he even set out. Walking was a painful, irritating exercise, but he was no stranger to pain. After a while, the thrumming and throbbing became another sensation that he filed away in his mind, along with the constant migraines.

  Burk couldn’t say how far he traveled that morning. One mile or one block? Ten steps or ten thousand? The scene around him always looked the same.

  The eastward highway rolled on and on before him like a certain endless yellow brick road, one that never seemed to reach the city of green. It rose with the dusty knolls and fell with the desert valleys, like a monstrous black tongue. The cacti and berry bushes had thinned out here; that was something that had changed. And not for the better.

  After a time, he realized he still had the meat strips in his pocket, but didn’t bother eating them. It would dehydrate him even more – this he knew from experience. The arid air had dried out his nostrils, and always smelled of dust. What he really needed was water. There was no saliva in his mouth, and his tongue kept getting stuck in the back of his throat. He couldn’t even lick his chapped and cracked lips because it pained him.

  Step after meaningless step he took on this road that led to nowhere; dry in mouth, sore in throat, empty in stomach. He continued to the do the same thing he’d done all the days since he’d fled into the desert since the Wrath: he stared at the road ahead; watching as his shadow danced first behind him, then underneath him and eventually before him, his only visible companion.

  Day after day this was his routine.

  And those few days, the rare ones, where he ran into some other living creature, tended to be the worse days rather than the better ones.

  8

  Around noon, God cut him a break.

  In the distance, a large rock formation rose from the ground on the right side of the road, standing at least five stories high like the world’s largest middle finger. A few shorter formations branched out in different directions, one even creating a small alcove.

  It would be some time still before he would reach it, but just the sight gave him that tiny glimmer of hope for survival. His vision had doubled again (and not from the alcohol) and he prayed over and over again that the image before him was not a mirage.

  If running had been an option, he gladly would have, even if it would have killed him. Though the sun couldn’t possibly get any hotter, there was only so much skin cancer a man can take before it drives him mad.

  Gotta reach it, he said over and over again in his head. Gotta reach it. Gotta reach it.

  Step after agonizing step, he pushed himself onward to reach his new goal, and three hours later, reach it he did.

  9

  The late afternoon sun was beating him over the head with its rays when he finally fell into the shadow on the rocky monolith. By this time, he was dragging his feet, and he fell to his knees into the shade. The darkness had never felt so good. Slowly, gradually, he crawled on his hands and knees, careful to avoid contact with his wound, to the tall formation, where he put his back to the wall.

  The obstruction of the heat alone was life-saving. He closed his eyes, taking long, slow breaths, letting his body cool. When he opened his eyes, he saw a snake slithering towards him a few feet off.

  His mind registered the event, but he was so tired that he found he didn’t have the strength to reach for his gun. Slowly, purposefully, the snake came towards him. A trespasser had come into its territory.

  Helplessly, Burk watched as it slid its rough, scaly body along the desert floor, weaving between the weeds that grew here and there, eyes locked on its prey.

  Burk blinked and grunted and forced his right hand to move, but it only made it to his waist.

  Funny, ain’t it? Finally reach the shade, only to die in its embrace.

  The snake had nearly reached its victim, when there came a scratching sound from Burk’s right. With heavy conscious effort, he turned his head enough to see a dark grey form bounding towards him.

  Awesome. The wolves have come to take what’s left…

  He blinked again, a blink that felt like a thousand years long, and when his eyes were open, he saw the form dive before him. He heard a hiss, and saw the form shake the snake from it jaws. The snake flailed and hissed, but the form shook its head aggressively, growling.

  Squinting, Burk could scarcely make out the snake as the small dog tossed it into the air. He followed it with his eyes as the snake twirled in the air, helpless, and then slammed to the dirt. Before it writhed away, the dog was upon it, rolling back and forth, back and forth, crushing the life out of the would be predator. The dog tossed it up in the air again, where it twirled and fell like a belt, and when it hit the ground again, this time it did not move.

  But Burk didn’t have a chance to be glad. The dog howled into the afternoon air, a sound that somewhat consoled him, and when it’s song was done, it stalked its way towards him.

  Burk closed his eyes and waited for the end.

  10

  It felt like sandpaper against his cheek, but it did not hurt.

  The coyote licked his cheeks, his chin, his eyelids, until it was too much. Burk found enough strength to push the mutt’s muzzle away, but as soon as the hand fell away, the beast came right back, rubbing his face raw.

  Throat hoarse and cracked, all Burk could whisper was ??
?go away.” The pup seemed not to hear him.

  Heat. Snakes. Now rabies.

  Moving proved unachievable, so sat there he did, whilst the coyote licked his face a dozen more times. It only became a problem when the damn thing nudged Burk’s leg. A sudden gust of energy burst through him. His boot caught the coyote square in the throat, sending it back a few steps. The pup howled in pain, and turned its body away. Burk pulled his leg up close.

  The pup whined, giving him a dejected look. Burk’s hand slowly went for the gun. It smells the open wound. He removed the gun, rested his elbow on his knee and took aim. The gun swayed and shook. Even concentrating best as he could, the gun would not sit still. The pup continued to regard him with those sad eyes, whining that noise that that irritated Burk so much.

  “Shut up!” Burk fire a round. The sound nearly deafened him when it ricocheted off the rocks around him. Instantly, the pup shrank down in form, hiding its nose under its paws, whimpering even louder now. Burk had missed his mark by a clean foot. He didn’t bother wasting another round.

  Burk relaxed his body and sat back. Damn thing. The pup whimpered a few seconds longer until it realized the danger had passed. It trotted off a few steps, and came back with the snake dangling from its maw. “Don’t want it,” Burk said quietly.

  The pup whined again and dropped the snake in front of him. It nudged the lifeless creature toward him. “I said…” His voice cracked, he cleared it. “I don’t want it.” He found enough energy to toss the snake a few feet off. The pup looked from