Eastwood: Book Two in The No Direction Home Series

by Mike Sheridan

  NO DIRECTION HOME

  EASTWOOD

  BOOK 2

  By MIKE SHERIDAN

  Copyright © 2017 by Mike Sheridan

  NO DIRECTION HOME is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Editing by Felicia Sullivan

  Proofreading by Laurel Kriegler

  Cover art by Deranged Doctor Design

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  EXCERPT FROM ON THE EDGE

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  On a residential back street in Old Fort, Tennessee, the next town south of Ocoee, Mason Bonner and Russ Willis sat in the front garden of a large corner house. Though the lawn was in need of mowing, the garden still looked good. Bright orange anemones and magnolias lined either side of the center walkway leading to the front porch, and in one corner was a paved courtyard, where the two men sat at an expensive-looking patio table.

  Give it another month, this will have all turned to jungle, Mason thought to himself idly. Just like the rest of the world.

  That morning, he and his crew had made the two hour trip from Knoxville in a combination of motorhomes, campervans, and trailers. Over the past couple of days, he’d worked hard preparing for the move, stocking up on as much food, guns, ammunition, gasoline, and medical supplies as he could. Once he left the city, there would be no going back.

  Russ had rendezvoused with the group in downtown Cleveland, where he’d guided the convoy along the back roads to Old Fort, lessening the chance they would be spotted in the area. With such a large gang, it was best no one got wind of Mason’s arrival.

  He leaned over the table, studying a local map Russ had brought with him. It was his first chance to examine the area in detail. Along with Russ’s sketch of Wasson Lodge, it gave him a better idea of what he was up against. Later that day, he would drive up and get a firsthand view for himself.

  The YMCA camp was closer to the lodge than he had previously imagined. The properties were set on either side of a large headland that jutted out into Lake Ocoee, and Russ informed him that the two camps were in constant communication with each other. Once Mason took over the lodge, they would make uneasy neighbors.

  That meant only one thing.

  On the map, Russ had marked the positions of the two roadblocks on the Cookson Creek Road.

  “How often do people come in and out of the camp?” he asked.

  “Every day,” Russ told him. “They’re still collecting supplies as far as I can tell.”

  Mason let out a satisfied grunt. “Good.” He took the pen out of Russ’s hand and jabbed the ballpoint at a spot farther west, where the Cookson Creek Road intersected with Sloans Gap Road. “If anyone goes to Cleveland or Chattanooga, they need to come this way, I’m guessing.”

  Russ nodded. “It’s the most direct route to the 411.”

  Mason made a mark across the road, similar to the ones Russ had made on the Cookson Creek Road. “Somewhere here, we’re going to set up our own position. An ambush point. We’ll pick off anyone leaving the YMCA camp, see if we can’t whittle down their numbers a little.” He grinned at Russ. “I run a big crew, we need space. After we take the lodge, I plan on taking here next.”

  Russ’s eyes lit up. “Great idea! They never leave camp without at least three people in a vehicle, so we’ll get a few of them for sure. This afternoon I’ll scout out the best place to set up the ambush.” His eyes narrowed. “When do we take the lodge, Mason?”

  “Tomorrow night. We’ll attack at four in the morning, when they least expect it.” An unpleasant smile came to Mason’s lips. “This is going to be Walter’s worst nightmare. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees us.”

  Russ hesitated a moment before answering. “Uh, Mason…Walter left the lodge yesterday afternoon. He was towing his trailer, so I think he’s left for good. Pete and the young kid went with him. I recognized their pickups.”

  Mason frowned. “Where the hell did they go?”

  There was another hesitation. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure.”

  “Why not? Didn’t you follow them?”

  “Of course. Problem is, I lost them. I had to drive the long way around the roadblock so I wouldn’t get spotted. By the time I got back onto Cookson, they’d disappeared.”

  Mason’s face darkened. “You couldn’t catch up with them on your motorbike?”

  Russ shook his head. “You don’t understand. I drove all the way back to the highway without coming across them. They must have headed south, not west, otherwise I’d have caught up with them for sure.” He smiled nervously. “Good news is, it means we should find them pretty quick when we want to.”

  Mason stared at Russ, trying to figure out whether he was lying or not just to save his ass. “Why do you say that?”

  Russ pointed back down at the map and traced a finger along the Cookson Creek Road. “South heads deeper into the Cohutta,” he explained. “There’s nothing there but forest. They must plan on staying in the area.”

  Studying the map again, Mason took his point. The Cookson Road followed Lake Ocoee’s southern shore deeper into the forest. It made no sense for Walter to go that way unless he planned on staying in the area.

  “All right,” he said finally. “For the moment, looks like Walter’s got a reprieve.” He scowled at Russ. “Not for long, though. He’ll be dead meat soon enough. That goes for Pete and the boy too. I’ll make them pay for what they did. Big time.”

  CHAPTER 2

  At Wasson Lodge, the remnants of the Camp Knox survivors group convened in the living room for their daily brief. Five strained faces stared anxiously at their leader, a far cry from the nine that had sat cheerfully around him only the previous day.

  Chris had barely slept. The entire night he had replayed over and over in his mind the events leading to the exodus of five members of his fledgling community, as well as the three new arrivals from Atlanta. Led by Walter, they had gone off to form their own group, one that was now larger than his own.

  The turn of events had stunned him. A combination of bad luck, and if he was to admit it, bad judgment, had defeated him. He had allowed his anger over Emma’s involvement with Cody to cloud his reasoning, and it had been his fracas with the youngster that had sparked the whole thing off.

  He had been unlucky in his fight with Walter, however, where he’d been knocked out by a lucky punch. It still hurt
like hell. Not the punch—he’d quickly recovered from that—it was his bruised ego that would take longer to heal.

  He looked around at the five glum faces, and knew he had to turn this thing around fast or else others might choose to leave and join Walter’s group. In a situation like this, things could change quickly.

  “All right, people,” he began in a calm, measured voice. “Yesterday was not the best of days. No point in pretending otherwise. While I never felt comfortable with Walter or his two friends, for that matter, losing Greta and Emma is a setback.” He leaned forward in his seat and gazed around the room, looking each person in the eye. “But this is a survival situation. We just have to get on with it. We have a great camp with excellent facilities. We’re not going to have any problems finding other survivors to join us. Right now, though, the most important thing is security. We need to make sure we hold onto this place.”

  Sitting next to him, Liz spoke up. “Chris, that’s going to be hard. There’s simply not enough of us to keep a constant guard.” There was a look of real concern on her face. Staring at her closer, Chris realized it was more than that. She was scared. “All I hear about is the gangs. It sounds like they’re everywhere now.”

  What she said was true. And with only six of them to defend such a prize possession as the lodge, the camp would be vulnerable to attack. Many of the gangs that roved the lakeside were more than fifteen-strong.

  “In the next few days, we’ll bolster our numbers back to where we were before, perhaps even more,” Chris reassured her. “And once we finish work on the perimeter fence, no one is going to bother us.”

  Liz’s eyes wavered uncertainly. “Are you sure we’ll find more people?”

  “Absolutely. Anyone traveling on their own will be desperate to come to a place like this, a sanctuary with civilized people. Remember, they’ll be lonely and afraid. Some will have run into trouble already. That’s going to make them even more keen to join us.” He smiled. “Stay strong, Liz. This is all going to work out, trust me.”

  On the coffee table in front of him, the radio crackled to life. “Chris, this is Sheriff Rollins. Do you read me? Over.”

  Chris hesitated. This was a conversation he’d prefer to have in private. Nonetheless, it might appear weak if he ignored Rollins or switched the radio off. Reaching over, he picked up the handset and pressed the Talk button. “Read you loud and clear, Sheriff. What can I do for you, over?”

  “I’ve been informed that there’s been a change of situation at your camp. We need to meet right away to discuss it, over.”

  “Sheriff, everything is fine here. Right now I’m busy. I’ll contact you later in the day, over.”

  “Chris, your change in status impacts us here too,” Rollins replied curtly. “I’ll be over within the hour. Over and out.”

  Trying not to show any visible signs of annoyance, Chris put the handset back down on the table. He composed himself and stared down at his notes.

  “All right, let’s discuss camp security. We’re over halfway done with the perimeter fence. No reason why we can’t have it finished in the next couple of days. Eddy, what’s the status? Do we need to make another run into Cleveland today for supplies?”

  As his security chief began his update, Chris’s mind wandered back to something he’d sworn to himself before finally dropping off to sleep the previous night. When Camp Knox was back up to full strength, he’d set about getting his revenge on Walter. He’d take care of Cody too while he was at it. What that revenge would be, he wasn’t sure yet, but Chris wasn’t a man who took defeat lightly. It would be something…substantial.

  CHAPTER 3

  Late morning, a silver Nissan Frontier pulled off Route 411 and into the town of Benton, Tennessee. Inside the vehicle was Jonah Murphy, his wife Colleen, and their new friend, Monica Jeffreys. Weaving through the back streets, the Nissan turned onto Station Road and parked outside the First Volunteer Bank.

  “All right, now what?” Jonah said, peering through the windscreen at the deserted streets.

  The previous day, he and Colleen had come across a gang of men in the process of assaulting Monica outside a supermarket in Richmond Hill, Savannah. Thanks to some scary driving on Jonah’s part, combined with some deft sharpshooting on Colleen’s, the couple had saved Monica and journeyed on toward Benton, the town she was from.

  On the way, they’d stopped in downtown Chattanooga. Monica needed to restock on everything she’d lost back in Richmond. By the time they left the city, it was approaching dusk. In a small wood on the outskirts of town, they’d driven up a forest track and set up camp for the night. That morning, after a quick breakfast of instant coffee and dry biscuits, they’d packed up and made the final leg of their journey to Benton.

  In the back seat, Monica peered out her window. “There’s no sign of activity. It doesn’t look like there’s a single soul here.”

  Behind the wheel, Jonah shrugged. “Dead as a dodo. Same as every other town we’ve passed through.”

  “I know,” Monica replied worriedly. “It’s just that, now we’re here, I don’t really know what to do. You don’t think everyone is dead, do you?”

  Sitting in the front passenger seat, one hand gripped on the barrel of her M-15 Armalite rifle, Colleen shook her head. “Impossible. From everything I learned before the Internet went down, the virus has roughly a two percent survival rate. Who knows how many more managed to avoid it? No reason why Benton should be any different. You say the population here was around fifteen hundred?” Monica nodded. “That means there should be at least thirty survivors.” She turned in her seat to face Monica. “They’ve obviously gone somewhere. Any idea where?”

  Monica thought for a moment. “I suppose they may have gone to one of the farms outside town, or maybe up to the lake.”

  “All right, let’s see if we can find them. Jonah, start the car.”

  “Okay, boss.” Jonah turned the ignition key and the engine coughed smoothly to life. He looked up at the rearview mirror. “Which way, Monica?”

  Monica pointed left. “Let’s head east out of town. That’s where most of the farms are. It’s our best bet.”

  Jonah shifted the gear selector into drive and pulled out onto the street. He drove no more than twenty yards before coming to an abrupt stop again. “You know what?” he said, looking over at his wife. “Maybe there’s no need to go searching for anyone.”

  Colleen frowned. “Why is that?”

  Jonah glanced in his side mirror where an olive-green Mitsubishi Pajero had come to a stop fifty yards behind them. “Because we got company, that’s why. With a bit of luck, it’s someone from around here.”

  Colleen swiveled in her seat and stared out the rear window. Immediately, she pulled her Glock 21 out of her holster and handed it to Monica. “You know how to use one of these?”

  Monica nodded, taking the weapon.

  All three got out of the car, Colleen armed with her M-15, Jonah and Monica with their .45 pistols. Behind them, three heavily-armed men did likewise and stood behind their vehicle, which they’d parked lengthways across the street.

  One of them, a big burly man with a thick beard and a protruding belly, called out to them gruffly. “Hey, what are you people doing in our town?” He wore plaid flannels and overalls, and looked like he was about to go off to work cutting down trees in the forest. All he was short of was the axe, Jonah thought.

  He was about to reply when Monica stepped away from the Nissan toward the man. She stared intently at him as she got closer. “Bert…is that you?”

  Lowering his rifle, the man peered back at her. An amazed look came over his face. “Monica? Well, I’ll be…” He gestured for his companions to lower their weapons, then stepped out from behind the Mitsubishi with a big grin. “Heck, sure is good to see you safe and sound.”

  “You too, Bert.”

  The man glanced at Jonah and Colleen briefly before returning his gaze to Monica. “Charles and the kids…they didn’t mak
e it, did they?”

  Monica shook her head. “These are my friends, Jonah and Colleen. We met in Richmond.” She paused briefly. “Bert, where is everybody?”

  “Everyone’s up at the lake. We’ve taken over the YMCA center. There’s thirty-seven of us in total.”

  By now, Jonah and Colleen had joined Monica. “Any room for a couple of friendly strangers?” Jonah asked, deciding it was time to stick his oar in. “Monica told me there’s good fishing at the lake.”

  “That’ll depend on Sheriff Rollins,” Bert replied curtly. “Monica was born and bred in Benton.”

  “Bert, these two risked their lives for me back in Richmond,” Monica cut in. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. By the way, who is Sheriff Rollins? I don’t think I know him. I remember Sheriff Dudley. I take it…”

  Bert shook his head. “Karl didn’t make it. John Rollins is the new sheriff now. Don’t worry, he’s a good man.”

  “So he’s the geezer we need to butter up. Is that what you’re saying?” Jonah asked.

  Bert smiled briefly. “He and his four-man council make the decisions around here. Just so happens, I’m one of them.” A serious look came over his face. “I’ve known Monica since she was twelve years old. Her father was a close friend of mine. The fact you two risked your lives for her means a lot to me. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you.”

  “Thank you, Bert,” Colleen said quietly.

  “Not at all, ma’am. Truth be told, there’s plenty of room at the camp, we still got a few empty cabins. Most people have chosen to lodge in the dorms together. For company and the like, seeing as they don’t have families anymore.” Bert hooked a thumb back at his pickup. “Me and my men have a few supplies to get, then we’ll be heading back. Why don’t you guys follow behind me and I’ll take you there.”

  Jonah rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Magic! I can’t wait to check out this lake of yours. Monica tells me it’s hopping with catfish. Soon as we get there, I’m going to go out and catch one, just in case the sheriff decides to boot us out after all.”