Harry did, but that wasn’t the reason. He just didn’t think he had it in him to see another dead body ravished by the flu or anything else for that matter. Especially if it was someone he knew.
Again, Harry shook his head. “I’d just rather not.”
Staring down, Harry saw through the corner of his eye that Tyler was gripping the box tighter. He lifted his eyes to see that Tyler’s head hung low as well.
“Hey.” Harry reached for him. “It’ll be okay.”
Thump, thump, thump!
The quick, triple hard hits on the driver’s side window made them both jump and scream.
Harry grabbed his chest and opened the window. “By God, it’s a living person.”
A younger man, probably in his mid-twenties, wearing a baseball cap was frantic. “Mister, ya can’t leave the car in the road. Ya got to move it now.”
“I’m sorry, move it?” Harry asked.
“Unless you’re going. If you’re going, you got to go. If not, you got to move.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Harry whispered out. “What in the hell are you saying?”
“Is you passing through or is you staying?”
“I’m looking for George Miller. Know him.”
“Everybody does.”
“Is he alive?”
“Last I checked.”
Harry grinned and turned to Tyler. “George is alive.” He returned to the young man. “We’re staying.”
“Ah, Gees, okay.” He adjusted his cap, shuffling some. “Head a block up, no gunning the gas, turn at the station into Mort’s storage units. I’ll run up. Meet you there, Ok?”
“Why am I going to Mort’s?”
“Mister, ya got to square away your car. Come on.” The young man darted a half a block, poked his head into the ‘Running Tap’ saloon, backed out and quickly ran in the direction he had told Harry.
Harry followed the dictate and when he arrived at Mort’s the young man stood by an open storage unit waving Harry forward.
Figuring the young guy wanted him to hide his car, Harry pulled forward and into the storage unit. He shut off the car and stepped out.
“Do you have belongings?” the young man asked.
“Yes, we do.”
“Can you hold off until dark to get them?”
“Well we’re just gonna head to George’s house.”
“Not until dark you aren’t. There’s a curfew right now, have to stay off the streets and inside.”
Harry blinked. “Aren’t curfew’s usually for night?”
“Not now, they aren’t.”
Harry nodded. “I understand. Should we just wait it out here?”
“No, you and the boy can come on down to
“
“Don’t much matter now, does it,” the young man said.
“Guess not. Lead the way.” Harry placed his hand on Tyler’s back and kept the boy between him and the other man, just to be safe.
They were led from the storage area, quickly across the street and through the side door of a Laundromat. The windows were boarded up. A woman folded laundry and waved as if nothing was peculiar about them passing through.
From there they headed out the back door, staying close to the buildings and it was another half a block before they entered into the back of The Tap.
No sooner did they walk in than the young man secured the back door and led them down the hall.
Music playing at a soft level carried to Harry and Tyler, along with voices.
Tyler reached up and grabbed Harry’s hand. He held it tight.
“It’s okay,” Harry said to Tyler. “I promise.”
They then emerged into the back portion of the Tap. The interior lights were on, some red and blue. People played pool; some threw darts. Others filled the tables and there were children running around.
The man behind the bar gave an up motion of his head. “I see you got them, Rick.”
Rick nodded. “Didn’t quite understand about hiding the car, but they’re looking for George.”
“Miller?” the bartender asked.
Harry nodded. “Do you know him? Have you seen him?”
Another nod of his head and the bartender pointed.
Harry turned.
George emerged from the men’s room, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He wasn’t a tall man like Harry, but had a barrel chest and thick gray hair that was neatly combed and styled. “Harry? Well I’ll be a son of a bitch!” The man was a few years younger than Harry. He moved toward him and gave him a hearty embrace with a chuckle.
“George, can’t tell you how happy I am to see you and that you’re alive.”
“Me, too.” George reached out and rubbed Tyler’s head. “This your grandson?”
“No. no. But I’m gonna call him that from here on in. He’s my buddy.” Harry pulled him closer.
George tilted his head. “What brings you here?”
“Didn’t know where else to go. Gave it a shot and hoped things were better up here,” Harry explained. “Tyler and I were on a train. It crashed in New York. We were stuck underground, when we came up…”
George’s single, slow, knowing nod, told Harry he understood.
“George, we made it out of New York, into Connecticut…” Harry said with desperation. “What the hell happened?”
George motioned his hand toward table. “Sit down. Get comfortable. Let me see if I can fill you in.”
You are weak.
You’re such a coward.
What is wrong with you?
