by Lukens, Mark
Again, as he drove, that wave of dizziness passed over him. He felt suddenly light-headed and shaky. He needed to get somewhere safe so he could sleep for a few hours. It had to be only a few hours away from dawn right now.
He wanted to drive farther south, but he wanted to rest for a while before he did so. As he turned the corner onto another street, he saw the house he wanted to check out. It was large and there were no cars or trucks parked in the driveway. There was an empty lot next to it, and it seemed far enough away from the other houses in case Sandy barked.
Slowing the truck down, Luke cruised past the house, studying the windows and the front porch. Everything looked silent and dark. He drove past the empty lot and parked his truck on the street against the flow of traffic. He’d been driving without his headlights on, only the parking lights, but he shut those off and then killed the engine.
He sat there for a moment, his fingers still on the key, ready to start the truck up again and drive away if he heard any noise. The farther south he had driven, the less ripper activity he had seen. It seemed like they had been somewhat concentrated near Valerie’s home, but he didn’t know why, and he didn’t really care right now.
Luke looked at Sandy, and she looked right back at him. She wasn’t growling or whining, and maybe that was a good sign.
“You ready to get some rest and some food?” Luke asked Sandy.
She licked her chops.
Luke grabbed his go-bag and his gun and then opened the driver’s door. He had already smashed the dome light earlier so it wouldn’t come on when he opened the door again. He got out of the truck and looked up and down the sidewalk. He looked over at the empty lot that stood between him and the old house. There was a wooden fence around the back yard, but he didn’t hear a dog barking.
Sandy wasted no time getting out of the truck. She was on the sidewalk in seconds, her nails clicking slightly on the concrete.
Luke hurried across the vacant lot, listening for any sounds. He could still hear the helicopters in the far-off distance, scattered machinegun fire, some of it coming from those helicopters, Luke guessed.
They were at the gate of the back yard fence in seconds. Luke whistled lowly, checking if there was a dog right on the other side of the gate, but he didn’t hear any barking or any noises. He didn’t want to shoot a dog, but he would if one tried to attack him or Sandy. But Sandy seemed to be content that there was no dog, and Luke was sure she would have picked up a dog’s scent immediately.
The gate was locked from the inside, but Luke’s arm was long enough that he was able to reach over the top and unclasp it. He opened the gate and peeked inside, ready in case a snarling dog (or a ripper) came. But there was nothing.
He looked back at the windows at the side of the house, and then at the windows on the upper floor. The windows were dark, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was being watched by someone. He looked across the vacant yard towards the next house, and then out at the street. It was possible there were people huddled together in some of those homes, families hunkering down by the windows, peeking out through the curtains when they’d heard his pickup truck rumbling by.
Luke shook the feeling off. He wanted to get inside and scope the house out, set up a defensive place to sleep and establish all exits. The thought of it made him weary, but it needed to be done.
They went into the back yard and closed the gate. There was a big back porch added onto the old house. It looked like it needed painting, and one of the screens had been knocked out. He climbed the steps and tried the screen door. It was unlocked and creaked just slightly when he opened it. Sandy followed him inside the screened back porch.
The back door of the house led into the kitchen. He checked the doorknob, but the door was locked. He wouldn’t get lucky enough to find two houses with the doors unlocked, would he? There were little panels of glass in the door. Luke elbowed out a square of glass and then carefully knocked out the jagged pieces around the wood frame with the silencer of his gun. He reached in and unlocked the door. He opened the door and entered the home. Once he and Sandy were inside, he dropped his duffel bag on the floor and closed the door, locking it.
Sandy didn’t seem nervous like she had in Valerie’s house, so that made Luke feel better, but he still wanted to do a search of the home.
Twenty minutes later Luke assured himself that no one was there. The house was abandoned, but a family had lived there recently. Luke saw the signs of harried packing upstairs in the bedrooms—clothes and shoes strewn everywhere. In a boy’s bedroom, Luke found a dark blue backpack. He would have rather found a black one, and one that was a little larger and sturdier, but this one would have to do for now. It would be easier than toting the duffel bag around.
The bathrooms and kitchen were a mess, too. Food on the counters, a few drawers open, big bags of Halloween candy ready for the holiday.
On the mantle over the fireplace in the living room, there were a few photos of the family—a dad, a mom, a teenaged boy and girl. There was also a dog in one of the photos, a little white fluffy one, but Luke didn’t know what kind it was. The family looked happy in the photos, and Luke wondered if they were terrified right now, stuck in traffic as they tried to make their way out of the city. Or maybe the soldiers had detained them. Or maybe the rippers had gotten them.
He went back to the kitchen and set his go-bag on the table, taking everything out. He repacked most of his stuff into the backpack, starting with the weapons and extra ammo first, then the nail gun. He kept an extra magazine for his gun in his pocket along with the penlight. Next, he stuffed his wallet with the fake IDs and the three envelopes of cash down into the backpack. He added the extra shirt and the pair of pants and socks and underwear to the backpack, so he could have one extra change of clothes, but discarded any other clothing. He was already beginning to run out of room, but he stuffed a few cans of food down into the backpack on top of his clothes and then added the can opener along with the other utensils and supplies he’d gotten from Valerie’s house. He added three bottles of water. Now the backpack was almost full. He closed it and secured it. He hefted the pack and slipped it onto his back, adjusting the straps until it felt comfortable. Not the best, but it would have to do until he could find something better. He took the pack off and laid it back down on the table.
He couldn’t fit his laptop, the extra clothes, his extra pair of shoes, or his throwaway cell phone still in the plastic case into the backpack, so he stashed them in a lower cabinet. He didn’t want to leave them here, but he really didn’t have a choice.
After a quick search of the kitchen, Luke added a few smaller supplies to the pockets on the outside of the backpack: a box of kitchen matches, the extra batteries that he’d found in Valerie’s house, another small flashlight.
He was getting pretty tired now, but he wanted to eat something before he tried to sleep. He opened a few cans of food and found some doggy treats that used to belong to the little white dog in the photos. Sandy gobbled the treats down and then watched him as he opened a can of chili and ate it with a plastic spoon he found among the utensils in the drawer next to the refrigerator. He opened a can of beer and drank it with his food. After the chili, he opened a can of beef stew, ate half of it and then gave the rest to Sandy.
After they were done eating, Luke chose the couch in the living room for his bed. He wanted to be downstairs and in a corner of the living room where he had a view of the front door and the archway that led to the kitchen. He grabbed a blanket from the master bedroom upstairs and crawled underneath it, taking his leather gloves off and stuffing them into the pockets of his hoodie.
He had his backpack beside the couch on the floor. He had his gun on the coffee table next to the couch, a bottle of water next to the gun. Sandy lay down on the other end of the couch next to his feet. Luke was afraid he might accidentally kick the dog in the middle of the night, but he didn’t have the heart to make her get off the couch.
They both l
ay there in the darkness for a few minutes. Luke listened to the silence, wondering if he was going to be able to fall asleep . . . and that was the last thing he remembered before drifting off.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 10
Luke woke up with a gun pointed at him—his own gun.
Judging by the golden light filtering in through the closed blinds over the living room windows, it was late afternoon. He had slept through most of the day.
The woman pointing the gun at Luke stood at the other end of the living room.
“What are you doing in my house?” the woman said.
Moving very slowly, and with his hands in full view the entire time, Luke maneuvered himself up into a sitting position against the arm of the couch. In the few seconds that it took him to sit up, he tried to clear his groggy mind as the cobwebs of sleep faded away. He had been dreaming about something, but all he could remember about the dream was that there had been a beautiful blond woman in it. She had a glow of light around her, and she’d had dark glasses on her face, like she was blind. And then the dream had turned into a nightmare when he saw a tall man hiding in the darkness, like he was a shadow himself. Except for his eyes—those were shining brightly in the dark, like two pinpoints of bright yellow light. But those bits and pieces of the dream were fading away quickly as he assessed the situation he’d suddenly found himself in. He stared at the woman. She was the only other person in the living room, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others with her somewhere else in the house. He listened for any other voices or noises.
Luke’s backpack was on the floor beside the woman.
“Why are you in my house?” the woman asked again. Her voice was even, not panicked or frightened. She stood with her feet slightly apart, her stance balanced, the gun steady in her gloved hands—obviously an experienced shooter. And that wasn’t good for Luke.
The woman looked small, maybe five foot four inches and a hundred and twenty pounds. She looked to be in her late twenties. She was dressed from head-to-toe in black: a hoodie sweatshirt, tight black pants, combat boots, fingerless gloves. A black headband held her dark hair back. She had her own backpack on, but it was much smaller than Luke’s. He could tell that she was lean and athletic even with all the clothes she had on. He could also tell she was confident and tough.
“I needed a place to crash for the night,” Luke said. His tongue felt swollen from thirst. He really wanted a swig from his bottle of water, which the woman had so graciously not stolen from him.
This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that someone had aimed a gun at him. First it was Jacob, and now it was this woman.
Luke looked at the end of the couch, but he didn’t see Sandy. He looked back at the woman who still hadn’t moved a muscle. “My dog.”
“Lab mix?”
Luke shrugged. “I guess so. I’m not a dog expert.”
“You don’t know what kind of dog you have?”
“Well, she wasn’t exactly my dog. I found her last night in a looted store. She just started following me around.”
“That’s sweet. Your dog bolted out the back door as soon as I came inside.”
Luke tried a smile on the woman. “Some watchdog she turned out to be.”
The woman didn’t say anything, and she certainly wasn’t falling for his smile. Luke was a little dismayed that he had slept through someone entering the house, taking his gun and go-bag from right beside him. He wasn’t normally a heavy sleeper, but he must have been passed out. He couldn’t believe that Sandy hadn’t barked, or even growled. She could have done something to wake him up.
Of course the woman must have been sneaky about her entry. She looked like she was trained in this kind of thing. She wasn’t with the police, but she seemed to have served in some kind of authority position, maybe she was ex-military.
“I didn’t see you in any of the family photographs,” Luke said, nodding over at the fireplace.
The woman glanced that way for a second and then looked back at Luke.
“You said this was your house,” he reminded her.
“It’s my cousin’s house.”
Luke didn’t believe that, either.
“Is there anyone else with you?” the woman asked.
“Just me and Sandy.”
The woman raised her eyebrows a little.
“That was the dog’s name. So it’s just me now.”
“You have quite a few weapons on you,” the woman said, nodding down at the backpack next to her feet.
Luke didn’t answer. It didn’t appear to be a question.
“What kind of guy runs around with a silencer on his gun?”
Luke just shrugged. “A guy who wants to be quiet.”
“What’s with the nail gun?” Again, she gave a slight nod down towards the backpack at her feet.
“I was going to build a doghouse for Sandy,” he said. There, that did it. That got her to crack a smile, maybe he could soften her up a little more, get her to let her guard down just a bit. “What’s your name?”
The woman’s smile slipped away as quickly as it had come. She just stared at him for a second. “Look, it’s been a real blast talking to you, but I’m going to have to take your stuff and go now.”
“You’re not leaving me much to protect myself with.”
She hadn’t moved a muscle yet, still aiming his gun at him. She seemed to be thinking over his statement. “I’ll throw this gun somewhere in the back yard when I leave, but I’m taking the other guns and everything else in this bag.”
Luke didn’t believe that the woman was going to throw his gun away in the back yard; it was just a ploy to get him to waste time looking for his gun while she got farther and farther away.
“Could you leave me the change of clothes from the backpack?” He didn’t really want them; he was just trying to stall a little longer so he could think of some way to get his weapons back. “You can keep everything else in my backpack: the weapons, the ammo, the nail gun. Even the cash.”
“I don’t want your money,” the woman said. She seemed to finally be growing a little weary of Luke’s mental games. “Money’s no good anymore since the collapse. I don’t want your clothes, either. I’ll leave them on the street a few blocks from here.”
“Which direction?”
Her smile returned. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
Luke tried to think of a way to stall a little longer. He tried to think of a way to gain the woman’s trust or gain some kind of slight advantage. He had the keys to the pickup truck in his pants pocket, so at least the woman hadn’t forced him to stand up so she could search him—she seemed satisfied with the backpack of weapons. As soon as she left, Luke planned to go out the front door, get in his truck, and follow her. He planned on getting his weapons back.
“How many others are with you?” Luke asked the woman.
“You don’t believe I’m by myself?”
Luke wasn’t sure.
“My boys are right outside,” she said.
Luke knew she was lying now. He was sure now that this woman was alone.
“I’m going to leave now,” she said. “But first I need you to stand up very slowly and dig into your pockets for the keys to that pickup truck outside.”
Luke didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of hiding his shock. It was like the woman had read his mind.
“Yeah, I was in the house across the street last night when you parked there,” the woman said. “I watched you and your dog enter this house, and I watched and waited for the right time to come pay you a visit.”
Luke remembered feeling like he was being watched last night as he opened the gate to the back yard.
“Okay, stand up now.” There was a sudden impatience in her voice. She could joke around for a little while, but now she was all business.
Luke stood up.
“Reach into your pockets and pull everything out.”
Luke did as he was ordered. T
he keys, the extra magazine of ammo, his balled-up leather gloves, and the penlight fell out onto the carpeted floor.
“You can keep your flashlight and the gloves. Bend down and throw the clip to me. An underhand toss.”
Luke hated it when people called magazines clips, but he decided not to confront her about it. He moved slowly as he picked up the magazine and tossed it to her. She caught it with one hand and stuffed it into the pocket of her hoodie.
“Now the keys. Slowly. An underhand toss just like last time.”
He picked up the keys and tossed them to her. She caught them in the air with one hand, just like she had done with the magazine. She was smiling again.
“Sit back down on the couch.”
He followed her instructions, sitting back down on top of his rumpled blanket.
“You just sit there and be cool for about fifteen minutes.”
“I’m cool.” He lowered his hands just a bit. He was pissed at himself for allowing himself to get into this situation, but it could have been worse, the woman could have shot him while he’d been sleeping, or she could even shoot him right now. She definitely looked like she had the nerve to do it.
The woman backed up towards the kitchen. “Count to one hundred before you get off that couch.”
“What makes you think I can count that high?”
The woman had backed up into the dining room now; she was almost to the kitchen.
“Can I at least get your number?” Luke asked.
“Cute,” she answered back, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Start counting.” And then she disappeared into the gloom of the kitchen. “I want to hear you.”
“One. Two. Three. Four.”
Luke stopped counting. He looked towards the windows of the living room. He heard footsteps out there, and then he heard screeches and whoops from out in the street. The rippers were out there now, maybe a lot of them.
The back door in the kitchen slammed shut, the glass in the door rattling.
