Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 55

DAY 13: April 21st, Wednesday

It had been four days since we drove around the backroads to Albany, and sleeping on the humvee made me miss the cold nights back in the cathedral.

The good news was, we never encountered a vector since West Point.

We were lucky to find a campground with a working shower and some cabins, one of those KOAs, saw that the employees had closed it down once shit hit the fan. We got to use showers and managed proper hygiene after days without one, so I was happy that it boosted morale. I didn't think that stocking up on three boxes of toothpaste and two toothbrushes was too much. Even without showers, having clean minty teeth felt like my entire body was clean.

As the days went by, I was sure that Luke's military disguise plan was the right call. Towns opened up for us (avoided us, mostly), and we get to cut in line on gas stations that had some long lines. We sent the humvees out, collected the oil, and then rendezvous to a secluded location to put gas into the bus and the Jeep. I felt so ashamed because of this, seeing as I had to look desperate people in the eye and told them to back off.

The uniforms served as control and intimidation tactics. Whenever we saw a car on the road, they would stop and moved out of our way as if they saw an ambulance barreling through. They would avert their eyes if I so much as looked out the window and peered through their vehicle. If we happened to stop on the side of the road to take a break, cars would veer off to the other direction, or if they cannot avoid it, slowed down, said a polite hello to us out of their window with gritted teeth, but gazed at our weapons with contempt and fear.

Though others were braver.

"I demand you to escort us to the city!" One woman said. She was in her forties, caught her cowering three children at the backseat, and her husband desperately trying to pry her out of my face. I could best describe her as someone who most likely screamed for the manager when she didn't have her way in a department store.

The internet would call her a Karen.

The shoes fit.

"We are on a scouting mission," I said. "Our way isn't to the city, ma'am. We're heading south."

She wouldn't fall for the lie. From where I stood, the road connected to one of the main ones leading to Albany. Our humvees were pointed north. Still, I hoped her anger clouded her judgment.

"Who are you calling, ma'am? I am not that old! And you have no right to refuse me! I am an American citizen. Do you get that? I paid your taxes just so that you can eat, shit, and sleep!" She shoved a finger on my chest. Her nails dug in, but I didn't move. "You are supposed to help us, and you cannot say no! If the governor hears this...if the president hears this, he'll get you, motherfucker!"

"I have my orders, ma'am."

"You have a nerve, don't you? Ha! I don't give a fuck about that! I will write a complaint to your CO. My father is a former officer, and he will have your hide once he hears of this! You will be stripped off of your precious rank! Just you wait, Lieutenant Miller! Ha! My father will chew you a new one, boy, because that's what you fucking are. A scared little boy who is not brave enough to save good, god-fearing, real Americans like us."

The woman shot an accusatory glance at Yousef standing behind me. Yousef caught the slight, but I was impressed when he held his composure, standing as menacing as possible with that rifle in his hand. For a guy who had no idea how to use it two weeks ago, he sure looked like a veteran.

A part of me still agreed with the woman. Soldiers were supposed to help everyone, but in the past few days, that hadn't been the case. As for the rest of her argument, well, she could fuck off. Like Armas, I wondered if more soldiers had deserted their posts once they heard of what happened to New York. All I could do to her was hardened my gaze. She didn't even flinch—tough woman.