Almawt Virus Series (Book 3): Days Since...Jenny [Day 986]

by Wilson, Robert

  Copyright © 2020 by Power Shift Publishing, LLC.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews—without written permission from the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  I have used the city of Cincinnati as the location for this series. Please understand that this book is fiction and I have bent the settings of certain areas to fit in with what the story needs. The Cincinnati in this book is not completely accurate.

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  PO Box 14131

  Cincinnati, OH 45250-0131

  powershiftpublishing@gmail.com

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  Prologue:

  From west to east, a sustained wind shifted snowflakes from rooftops to tree branches to bushes to the ground—an effort to bury the world from above. Deserted, the street lay untouched, blanketed in white powder underneath tree limbs stripped bare from autumn’s task. Beside the snow-covered cars along the curb, metal poles jutted out from beneath the snow like stubborn weeds. A man with a shotgun slung across his front wiped one of the parking meter domes clean. “Time expired,” he read before looking back to his companions, both with rifles in hand. “Not for us though.”

  “Hey Griff, they say what they wanted?” one of the lesser men asked. “Pretty important if it’s a face-to-face, right?”

  “They want to resume trade again now that they’ve bounced back from their little…” Griffin stifled a snicker. “Setback.”

  “You happy with what happened?”

  “Happy...?” For a second, he considered whether or not it was true. “Naw, not really. Can’t complain about them getting knocked down a peg, though.” Reconsidering the implications of the statement, he turned, scolding them, “But don’t start thinking they won’t try something. Weakened or not, O’Brien held the Butcher under his command and shouldn’t be taken lightly. I know he’s up to something. Just not sure what yet.”

  “I’m more worried about the ones that took him out.”

  “There’s always a bigger fish.” Griffin smiled. “The Butcher found out the hard way.”

  The men swallowed before nodding, then marched onward, storefront to storefront, their bootprints stretching a mile behind them.

  Up ahead, below an awning at the end of the block, a cigarette passed between frigid hands. The strangers’ rifles leaned against the brick wall while puffs of smoke wafted into the air. Both men read cocky. Both without a care in the world. Their faces turned toward the approaching group, and three distinct raps sounded against the framed glass door to the coffee shop.

  The creak of a window from the shop’s second floor caught Griffin’s attention. A muzzle protruded from inside, and all three of the men turned their palms toward the sky.

  The blonde stranger crooked an eyebrow. “You Griffin?” Smoke rolled from his mouth.

  Griffin nodded, squaring up to the man.

  “Leave your weapon there,” the other stranger said, gesturing toward his own. “Not hiding anything, right?”

  “Nope.” Griffin set his shotgun’s barrel to the brick and stepped forward, pressing his hands to the glass door. Without hesitating, the man slipped behind him, handsy with his pat-down. Quick. Intrusive. Then it was over.

  Shaking off the discomfort, Griffin straightened his clothing. “You get a good enough handful down there?”

  “He’s good, huh?” The blonde stranger swept a piece of hair back under his sock hat and popped a single cigarette from its pack. “Looks like you could use a smoke to help you relax.”

  Not amused, Griffin simply glared at the men then deadpanned, “Me and your boss have business. Time to get the fuck on.”

  “Your men gotta wait outside with us.”

  A string of bells jingled as Griffin pulled the door outward. He framed himself in the jambs, cautiously taking in the situation. To his left, in the meager daylight, sat O’Brien, his feet propped atop a long, green crate at the foot of his table. A brisk smile, discreet. “Sit,” he said. “This’ll be brief.”

  Griffin scraped the metal chair across the floor to sit. “Been good?”

  “Good enough. You?”

  “About the same.”

  O’Brien straightened in his chair, taking his feet from the crate. “Got something for you. Got more like it if we can come to an agreement.” He opened the crate. Inside, a bazooka, a few rockets. “Go on.” With a dip of his chin, he urged Griffin to grab it. “See how it feels.”

  Griffin’s chest shook—the laughter stuck in his throat. “You serious?” Beaming, unable to help it, he lifted the bazooka from the crate and onto his shoulder. “Thought it would’ve been heavier.”

  “Simple to operate. It’s finding the rockets that’s tricky, but all this is yours if you want it.”

  “What’s the catch?” Griffin set the impressive weapon back into the crate.

  “No catch. This one’s on the house.”

  Griffin furrowed his brow but said nothing.

  “Trading with us has always been sort of a... guilty pleasure of yours. Believe me, I get why you're hiding your dealings with us from your camp. We can be an unsavory sort. Not everyone tolerates what we do.” He licked his lips. “But, there is another bazooka and nearly ten more rockets for your camp if you can help me out with something.”

  “Winter’s a bit tougher to give up food and fuel.” Griffin exhaled his frustration. “I want to, believe me. We’d be untouchable with two of 'em. I just—”

  “Let me stop you right there. I’m not asking for any of that. We’re rebuilding the Butcher’s operation. You know what I need.”

  Griffin lifted his gaze, eyeing a ceiling fan overhead.

  “A young one. Healthy. Do that and the other shoulder cannons yours too. Like you said, you’d be untouchable with both.”

  A sinister grin consumed Griffin’s face. “I know just the one.”

  “Give us a couple days, and we’ll be there to pick her up.”

  Chapter One

  The floorboard let out a sharp crack. Matt’s head spun around, his eyes wide as he mouthed, “Be careful!”

  Jenny couldn’t help but wince. Her head creaked up and down with a slow nod. She forced a hand to her chest, trying to keep the pounding of her heart from echoing beyond her body. Deep breaths. She pressed each subsequent board lightly with her boot, testing each one before moving forward.

  Matt waved for her to hurry. Jenny threw her hands in the air. “Which is it?” Her whisper was fierce.

  “Both,” he snapped back. Matt reached for her, and Jenny grabbed hold—their pulses racing together, hand in hand. She mirrored each of his steps toward an open door at the end of the hallway. “Stay close…”

  No shit.

  Jenny kept low behind Matt as he peeked through the gap in the door, attempting to clear the bedroom before deciding on whether to enter. The bathroom and office down the hallway were passed by—there was nowhere to hide. Matt gave her hand a squeeze and tried to ease his way between the door and its frame. The door moaned as his oversized coat caught the doorknob, pushing it inward. He pulled Jenny through and faced her. “Through the window there.” He tried to bring her with him, but she freed her hand from his.

  “We need to hide.” Her eyes scanned the bedroom. The gap below the bed was too small. Too predictable. “What's in here?”
She opened the door. A closet—a nest of laundry filled the bottom—the smell of mold and body odor. Above the pile, a steady trickle of water from the ceiling pecked at a windbreaker jacket. Can't afford any noise. Not a sound. She pitched the jacket to the side.

  “That closet's a bad idea.” Matt raced over to the window and jerked it open. A gust of wind swept through the opening, carrying a drift of snow that spread across the floor. The sudden breeze caused Jenny to shudder. She looked over to Matt—his intentions made clear with one foot lifted from the floor and rising toward the sill.

  “Where are you going?” she hissed.

  He set his foot down. “It shouldn't be too bad a climb down from here,” he said, craning his neck through the open window. “We'll just drop down on the garage's roof and to the ground from there.”

  “No.” She scowled at him. “You trying to get us killed sliding off the roof? It's not worth it. Just help me with this.” Through her thin gloves, she could feel moist spots among the clothing she dragged out into the bedroom. “We'll bury ourselves in here.”

  He shook his head before taking another look outside.

  “It'll be fine. Trust me.”

  “I do... It's just...” His eyes met with hers. “We need to keep going,” Matt urged. “That's all there is to it.”

  A loud bang from downstairs.

  “Quick.” She waved him toward her. “That door won’t hold.”

  Another bang followed by a crash and dishes breaking.

  “You’ve had long enough!” a man’s voice echoed through the house.

  “Shit!” Matt snatched the blanket from the bed and placed it inside the window frame, then shoved Jenny into the closet. “Stay down!”

  She looked on as he scooped the laundry from the floor and began covering her with it. The odor became overwhelming. “You're coming in here too.” She squeezed the words through the last gap in the clothing before everything went dark. Her breaths shortened until eventually she held it. Her adrenaline surged. She could feel the pile shifting—Matt working his way into the opposite side of the closet.

  “Last chance guys!” his voice rang out again from downstairs. He must have been right below them. The words shot right through the floor.

  Jenny snuck a few breaths and wriggled her hand through the laundry, sorting, reaching for Matt. There. Their fingers laced together. “Ready?” Her question muffled by the layers of clothing and an unwillingness to fully open her mouth, fearing the stench might knock her unconscious. “Matt?” she tried again.

  He mumbled something back, but she couldn't be certain what it was.

  “Seek!” the man yelled.

  A few loud barks followed the command.

  Jenny forced a deep, sickening breath in. Don't throw up. Her nerves caused a violent shake, anticipating the likelihood of being found. This smell has to keep us hidden, right? There’s no way that dog finds us in here. Hopefully, the open window and blanket will trick them. Her hand tightened within Matt’s. He squeezed back, the two reassuring one another they weren’t alone.

  From downstairs, Jenny could hear the loud clack of the dog’s claws against the hardwood—its whining while it paced along the walls, making quick searches through the rooms below them. Even the persistent sniffing, she swore, could be heard through the wood floor. We’re going to be found. I just know it. I can’t do this. Her breaths sped up, became shallow as her nerves continued to get the best of her. The pile of clothing pumped in and out as she stirred. Matt squeezed her hand again, but it wasn't enough to calm her. I want to be right… just once.

  “Downstairs is cleared!” the man called. “Won’t be too long now!”

  The panting of the dog came too quickly—it raced straight for the bedroom. Its claws clacked through the room. By the bed. The window. Back toward the hall. Then it whined and stopped. Silence. Did he leave? Maybe we're— Scratching at the closet's door frame prevented her from finishing the hopeful thought. Damn it! It began to circle just outside the door, begging to be let in. Three loud barks jolted her, her hands sweating, her chest cinching down around her lungs—too much pressure. She broke through the filth for some air. Another bark.

  The man’s boots traipsed along the floorboards from down the hall—each creak a reminder to Jenny that they had lost. It was over. Only a matter of time.

  “Good boy.” The man's feet shifted, squaring up to their door. A knock. “Hello...” He laughed. “I wonder if they're in there.” The metal clasp pinged as the man secured the dog back to its lead and guided it to the other side of the room. “Matt. Jenny. Come on out of there.”

  They both sprung out from the clothing and opened the door. “That dog makes it too easy for you,” Jenny gasped, taking in some fresh air from the open window.

  “Why the hell'd you shut in like that?” the man asked. “You two know better than that.”

  “I tried to tell her, Danny”—Matt raised his eyebrows and stared at Jenny—“but she doesn't listen.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes. “First off, this is training and falling off the roof seemed like a stupid idea, Matt.” She glared back at him. “If you were so concerned about us hiding in the house, we should’ve just come in through the back door and straight out the front. Hiding in the closet seemed like the only thing we could do. And, with it smelling like it did, I figured there was no way in hell that Sherman would find us in there.”

  “Well, you were wrong.”

  “Jenny,” Danny started, “it doesn't work like that. Come on... think.” He dropped his rucksack to the floor, shaking his head in disappointment. “Remember the chili? People smell chili, all of it together. But a dog smells the beans, the meat, the onions, every bit of it separately. Even with that closet smelling like it did, Sherman can still get your scent. You guys know the only way to beat the dog is to keep going. You can't stop.” He took a breath. “How many times do I have to tell you before you get it down.”

  “Only had to tell me once,” Matt grumbled to himself. “That's why—”

  “I get it, whatever. Won't happen again.” Frustrated, Jenny snatched the blanket from the window and wrapped herself in it before plopping down next to Sherman. “You're just too good, boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears, using the retired police canine to keep herself from any further criticism. “Just too good.” She caught Matt staring. “Jealous?”

  Breaking his gaze from her, Matt offered a halfhearted smile. “Not quite.”

  Liar. “Don't listen to him, Sherman.” Her fingers scratched over the short, brown fur of her favorite Belgian Malinois. His leg began to kick as all dogs do. “That's the good spot, huh?”

  Danny palmed a few treats. Sherman took them without hesitation, leaving Danny to wipe the slobber to his pants. “Don't know where I'd be without you, pup,” he said. The proud canine rolled onto his side, and Jenny began scratching along his belly.

  “They're both just jealous you like me better,” she joked. “Always are.”

  Danny began rummaging through the room, and Matt took the cue, joining him.

  “Jenny, don't take it personal,” Danny said, his hands flicking through a stack of magazines on the nightstand. “It's why we train. We can make mistakes now, so they aren't made later. It's when we make them more than once or twice that they become habits. Bad ones.”

  “But—”

  “Just say okay.” Blunt words of irritation from Danny.

  Jenny nodded, conceding, but refusing to actually say okay—a partial win in her mind.

  “We’ll get this house cleared and one more before we head back home.” He tossed a half-empty bottle of Tylenol toward his rucksack while making his way across the room. “We do it the right way next time. Right?”

  “So...” Jenny smirked, bending an eyebrow, knowing Danny had backed himself into a corner. “For us to do that, we just need to run right through the house and keep going?”

  Danny ran a hand down his cheek and across his mouth. “Point taken,” he mutt
ered under his breath as he sifted through a few drawers of a dresser. “How about this? Next house, you two can clear”—He coughed—“practice clearing it after Sherman makes his first pass through.”

  “Deal!” Matt nearly shouted.

  “Slow and methodical, not rushed.”

  “I know...” Jenny avoided eye contact with Danny as she stood, shrugging the blanket from her back. It briefly covered Sherman before he managed to wriggle out from underneath. “I'll get the bathroom and office down the hall.”

  “Matt, go and help her.”

  “No!” she shouted. The others stood gaping at her. Jenny even shocked herself with the outburst. “I mean—I'm pretty sure I can handle searching through a couple of rooms by myself. Quit trying to hold my hand with everything.”

  Although both of them were guilty of it at times, her statement was directed more toward Matt than Danny. Without a doubt, the death of Xavier was Matt’s excuse for being overprotective of her. She had heard him explain it so many times before. But, Danny... She could only assume he felt a woman needed it, desired it. Not this one. I learn and do.

  “Okay...” The two of them let their responses trail off as she left.

  They don't get it.

  “Matt,” Danny said, “hold up a sec.” His request piqued Jenny's interest, and she remained just outside the room, taking full advantage of leaving the door cracked. “I need you to finish up here in the bedroom, I'm heading downstairs. You hear something, you let me know before you do anything.” Danny handed over his leg holster, pistol included. “You've been training, right?”

  What the hell, Danny? I train with you every day.

  “Only by dry firing and doing Airsoft.” Matt wrapped the holster around his thigh and ran his belt through its top strap. “Griffin said I'm not worth wasting bullets on.”

  “Griffin’s just messing with you, but I'll tell you what. If we find some ammo on this run, I'll make sure you get the chance to put some live rounds downrange.”