3
The last time Charlie had been on the road he was doped up on self-prescribed pain killers and in a bad place. His wife had been murdered, his daughter was missing and in a confused daze he wandered the aisles of the nearest service station, looking for supplies to keep him and John alive for just a little while longer. Nothing much had changed in the intervening months. His wife was still dead, his daughter still missing and there was still a lingering trace of the narcotics keeping him afloat.
Although there was one thing that was different. There were three of them now. Adopting Rachel had been a decision made out of circumstance and because of what she was. Just like him she was a Reacher and the bond between them was instantaneous. He couldn't allow her to be hurt, it went against every feeling he had, and leaving her in S'aven would undoubtedly have been leaving her for dead. People knew what she was, it was only a matter of time before they tracked her down and forced her to use her powers. Before she got caught and killed.
Charlie watched her disappear into the cafe apprehensively. She was a smart girl, and she probably had more sense now than Charlie had ever had. She was young, nine years younger than Charlie, five years younger than John, but s he had escaped Red Forest and walking through a warzone like that aged a person beyond years. Rachel was a fighter – she had to be. Charlie just wasn't sure if she was ready to fight his battles with them. And even if she was, he wasn't sure he wanted to burden her with the responsibility.
He went into the kiosk and reached for a basket. His outstretched hand was trembling. It had been over a day since he'd last taken his medication. He checked around to see who was watching. Thinking he was in the clear he reached into his pocket to retrieve his pill bottle.
"What's that you're putting in your pocket?" The old man appeared at the till in the corner. "Tim, get over here, we've got a thief!"
Tim, the guard, was in the kiosk before Charlie could show them what he was hiding. The barrel of the rifle followed his hand as he removed his pot of pills and rattled them.
"Just getting my meds guys."
Tim snatched them, reading the label with interest. Then he made Charlie turn around while he checked his other pockets. Eventually Tim shook his head, finding nothing that could incriminate Charlie. He let Charlie go but kept hold of his pills.
"I need those," Charlie said.
"Then we can trade for them," the old man said. "Think of it as insurance. I'll be watching you."
"I told you, we don't mean you any trouble."
"Son, if I had a pound for every goddamn thieving bastard that said that to me I wouldn't be sat here waiting for winter."
Charlie conceded the point. "I'll be as quick as I can."
He turned to the shelves. They were well stocked, not like most places this time of year. This station had everything they needed; protein meals, water purifiers, even thermal clothing. Charlie started filling his basket, his fingers picking up item after item greedily. Then he stopped, midway through the protein meals. It didn't matter that he could pay for it, if he took too much there could be trouble.
"You got plenty of stock for the winter?" Charlie asked out of courtesy.
"What's it to you?" the old man snapped.
"Just don't want to clear you out."
"There's no chance of that."
"Never seen shelves this full this time of year before."
Neither the old man, nor Tim, answered. Things don't feel right. He heard Rachel's voice roll over in his mind.
The world outside of S'aven was barren and wild. Things were different. People were different. And Charlie adapted accordingly. He'd suffered winters in the wilderness and bustled with the chaos of the city. He understood the service station, the caution they had towards him, the steps they would go to if they thought their lives and livelihoods were threatened. He respected them. But Rachel was right. Things didn't feel right.
Carefully he put the basket of supplies down. He'd made a mistake. Rachel was in another room. John was outside. They should have stayed together. Charlie closed his eyes and listened. There was noise throughout the station; people, machinery, the hum of the generator keeping the place alive. They could easily be outnumbered. Service stations were normally well armed, with large store rooms potentially filled with guards. Charlie flexed his fingers. Things were going to get messy.
He turned to the old man as the sound of a vehicle shook the outer wall. The old man fought a smile, the hint of smugness betraying what was about to happen. Charlie shook his head.
"You can stop," Charlie told him. "You can call it off, we'll pay for what we want and leave without trouble."
"Now son why would we do a thing like that?" the old man chuckled.
Charlie smiled. "Because in ten minutes these floors are going to be red and I'll be walking out of here anyway."
The old man, his hands hidden below the counter, tensed. But he was cocky, this was an old scam and he'd dealt with wise guys before.
"You don't do much steady walking as it is, I don't think we've got much to worry about."
It was Charlie's turn to laugh. "Well it's not just me you have to worry about is it. My brother out there is not a man you should underestimate." Charlie paused, thinking about Rachel. She wasn't defenceless either. He started to grin. "Nor is my sister." The last word gave Charlie a surge of energy.
The old man's eyes flicked to Tim. He hadn't seen a woman. Now he was worried.
"You're bluffing and even if you weren't do you think some tart would concern us?"
Two shots fired in the car park. John had a rhythm Charlie would recognise anywhere. Then a car horn blared. Flexing his fingers Charlie stared at the old man.
"You should be concerned my friend, because she is just like me."
He raised his hands and the shelves lifted into the air. The old man had enough time to draw his gun before the metal frames hurtled into him. He was pinned. His shotgun out of reach. Charlie dropped to his knees before Tim could get a good aim. He swiped his crutch and knocked the rifle out of Tim's hand. But it was still strapped to the guard's shoulder and just spun around his back. Charlie dived at the man, knocking him back into the corridor. The pill bottle hit the floor and shattered. What was left of Charlie's medication was lost in the debris of the kiosk. Tim writhed underneath Charlie and Charlie lost his temper. He slammed his fists into Tim's face over and over.
Tim's body went limp, his bulk rendered useless under an addict robbed of his next fix. Charlie rolled off him and shook the rifle free. He'd taken a few hits and as he tried to get up he felt the full force of the fight in his legs. The gunfire outside grew louder – something automatic. Charlie glanced at the exit. Help his brother or find Rachel? For a moment he was torn. Then the automatic firing stopped. Mind made up he lunged towards the door to the cafe.
"Rachel!" he shouted as the butt of an identical rifle smacked him across the face.