Part 4 (1/2)
Even though the going would be much slower and would sometimes involve backtracking, Ben decided to stay on the secondary roads. They would afford him so many more ways to twist and turn in case Campo and his men were chasing them.
And Ben felt sure they would be.
Ben and Judy pulled out just after dawn, angling more west than north. At a small town in West Tennessee, Ben stopped at the public library-or what was left of it-and found some books for Judy.
A book on creative writing, a good dictionary, and Fowler's Modern English Usage.
On the road again, Judy opened the dictionary at random. ”Ga-vo-t.i.t,” she said.
”I beg your pardon?”
She repeated her p.r.o.nunciation.
”Spell it, Judy.”
”G-a-v-ocommentcomment-every.”
Ben hated to admit he didn't have the foggiest idea what the word meant. ”What does it mean, Judy?”
”Well, h.e.l.l! I don't know. I'm askin'
you.”
”See all the smaller words to the right of the bold-type word?”
”Huh?”
Ben slowed the truck and took a quick look at the word. ”An old French dance,” he read. ”Since I never wrote the types of books where that word would be used, I am not familiar with it.” ”So you don't know everything after all?”
”Who in the world ever said I did?”
”Lots of people have. I seen-was ”I have seen.”
She looked at him.
”I have seen lots of shrines and stuff like that built for you. Lots of the Underground People wors.h.i.+p you.”
”So I heard,” Ben said through gritted teeth.
”I am not to be revered or wors.h.i.+pped, Judy.
I am not a G.o.d. Would a G.o.d do the things we did last night?”
”They would if they was h.o.r.n.y.”
”Jesus!”
Ben muttered. ”That's not what I mean, Judy.”
”I.
know that, Ben. Look! There's the sign pointin' the way to Missouri. Let's go there. I ain't never been to Missouri.”
”I have never been.”
”Whatever.”
Ben drove into Dyersburg, Tennessee, and after carefully parking the truck on the street, enabling them to keep an eye on it, they began their search of the stores. Over the years, though, the stores had been looted many times, and anything of any value was long gone.
”Have you gotten used to the skeletons, Ben?”
They had just opened a broom closet door and two old skeletons had fallen out, clattering at their feet.
”A long time ago, Judy.”
A noise from the street spun them around and sent them running through the littered store to the sidewalk.
A crowd of ragged men and women had gathered around the pickup.
They were armed with clubs and axes and knives and spears.
”The welcoming committee,” Ben said.
”What do you want?” a woman shouted the question at Ben and Judy.
”We don't mean any harm,” Ben called.
”We're just traveling through.”
”Why did you stop?” a man called. He held an axe in his hands.
”People on the roofs with bows and arrows,” Judy whispered.
”I see them. If shooting starts, you take the south side of the street, I'll take the north.”
”All right.”
”We don't want any trouble,” Ben called, as they walked closer to the truck.
”You say!” the woman spokesperson said angrily. ”That's what they all say. Then they rape and kill and take away the young girls and boys.”
”Who takes them? Where do they take them?”'
”Who knows?” the woman said. ”We never see any of them again. The attackersor our young.”
”My name is Ben Raines,” Ben spoke softly.
About half of the knot of people drew back in fear.
They whispered and muttered among themselves. The spokeswoman stood firm, glaring at Ben, her hands knuckle-white from gripping the spear tightly.