The Indiana Apocalypse Series

by E A Lake

  “And Luke is my deputy?”

  “Was,” Art replied, shooting Morgan a confused look. “I am now because Luke got killed in the first hour of the shoot-out. After that, you took care of it all on your own. Hunted them down in ones and twos and killed them all. I’m as proud as can be to be a deputy to a man like you, Quinn. If my momma was still alive, she’d be so surprised to see what’s become of me, working for a great man like you.”

  “Did I happen to kill her, too?” I asked without thinking.

  “Aw, hell no!” he replied, slapping his own leg like I’d just told a great joke. “She died when the fever went through back in winter year one, just at the start of year two.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t as cold blooded as I thought I might be.

  “You want to get back to work or you want me to show you to your house?” Art asked, beginning to pace a little.

  “Let’s go see what home looks like,” I said, shoving Morgan towards the door. “Aren’t you excited to see where we live, honey?”

  “Can’t wait,” she answered with faux happiness. “Maybe I should run and check on the others first though. They may need medical attention. Charolette’s foot looked—”

  Something she’d said caused Art to roar with laughter. “Hell, they’re in great hands now. Ronnie’s wife DeeDee is probably stuffing them full of food by now. They won’t go hungry. And Jennifer Allen, she lives on the other side of Ronnie, well she was an emergency room nurse before the world turned to shit. That little girl couldn’t be in better hands.”

  For the first time ever, I saw defeat in Morgan’s eyes. She’d been trumped in every away imaginable and had to stay with me just in case I unearthed another of her lies. It was turning out to be a pretty nice day after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  “Well this is cute,” Morgan beamed as we studied my home. Unlike the surrounding places, which were mostly shacks, my small single-story domicile had windows and shutters and a fresh coat of white paint. A red front door even greeted us as we walked inside.

  “It’s wasn’t locked,” I said as I studied the living and dining room. The furniture appeared to be newish and I wasn’t offended by the same odor that had struck me back at the office.

  “Who the hell would break into your place, Sheriff?” Art scoffed, shaking away my concern. “There ain’t no one in town who doesn’t love you. Hell, you’ve kept Pimento safe these past years. People would do anything for you.”

  The kitchen seemed sparse of cooking items, but that didn’t surprise me. Someone else did prepare most of my meals after all.

  My boots echoed off the shiny hardwood floors as I walked past the bathroom, non-functioning I imagined, and toward the bedroom with Morgan in tow. When we reached the door of the master bedroom, Morgan let out a low whistle.

  “Very nice,” she whispered, pointing at the king-sized bed covered with a white bedspread. A blue checkered comforter lay at the foot of the massive piece of furniture just waiting for use on a cold winter night.

  It all looked so different compared to the rest of the town. That confused me. Was I taking advantage of the folks? Or were they all frightened they could be next on my hit list?

  “You don’t seem happy, Sheriff,” Art commented. And I wasn’t.

  “I’m confused,” I admitted. “Why does it seem like I’m treated like a king while the rest of this quaint village lives on the brink of poverty? Were all the sheriffs treated like this?”

  “Hell no,” Art bellowed. “They were a bunch of assholes. They never cared about anyone or anything but themselves. You lived at the office for the first six months. Then when we saw how much you cared about us and Pimento, we started scavenging for decent things for you. We built you this house after you protected us from the Baker gang. Just the right thing to do.”

  “Did Carla ever live here with me?” I asked, almost to myself.

  “Your ex?” he scoffed. “Hell no. You lived in a shack like the rest of us.”

  I turned and faced my deputy. “Can I see it?”

  He shook away my request. “You had it torn down after she left and you became sheriff. You asked a couple men to take care of it and they did.”

  “I wonder why?”

  “Probably because she’s a cheating shit that ran away when the first better offer came along,” Morgan griped.

  Art clapped his hands and I jumped. “Exactly! You didn’t want any scent of her left anywhere once she left. Can’t blame you on that. She was kind of a bitch.”

  Morgan snorted. “Sure, kind of…a total bitch.”

  “Hello?” a friendly voice called from the front of the house. “Anybody home?”

  Art grinned. “That’ll be Sally Piedmont and the first of many deliveries.” He patted my stomach and trotted down the hallway. I stared at Morgan. “Hope you got an appetite, Sheriff.”

  “Does any of this add up to what you know of me?” I asked, wanting the truth for once from her.

  She nodded slowly, glancing back at the massive bed. “It’s not as nice as inside of Shaklin’s place, but it’s a lot nicer than that dump we lived in.”

  I sighed and leaned against a wall. My god, was I Tony Shaklin Jr., just living in a different place, but still exploiting my power like him?

  CHAPTER NINETY

  One nice lady brought us two pies: raspberry and blueberry. Another sweet older woman dropped off 10 jars of canned beef. Someone showed up with a bushel of fresh vegetables and one shy middle-aged man dropped off a block of white cheddar cheese.

  Food seemed to be these people’s welcome back presents. The amount of food was staggering, given that the pantry was still full from before I left. At least that’s what Art claimed.

  While Morgan cleaned up with a basin of hot water in the bathroom, I nosed around the house trying to find anything that might jog my failing memory. I searched almost every drawer and cupboard but found no pictures, notes or mementos anywhere. It was as though I’d purged my life at some previous point.

  “You need to come here for a minute,” Morgan called from the bathroom. When I stood in the doorway, she waved me inside.

  “I’ve seen water before,” I joked. “And I figured I’d clean up in a bit.”

  She shook her head and took my hand, stopping me before the sink.

  “Look up,” she whispered. “Tell me what you see.”

  When I did look up, I was looking into a mirror. The reflection was something I’d never seen before.

  “Who the hell is that?” I asked, not sure of my own face being mine.

  “That’s Quinn Reynolds,” Morgan answered, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Do you recognize yourself?”

  I scowled because the face staring back was a foreign to me as the rest of the world.

  “I’ve never seen that face before,” I sighed. And I hadn’t.

  Morgan rustled my hair and then my beard. “Your hair is longer; I kind of like it like this. A few specks of gray, but still mostly dark brown. The beard…I’m not so sure about that part.”

  If I had to guess, I’d say it was two month’s worth of growth, maybe two or three inches long. It was just as dark as the hair on my head with some gray strands here and there.

  “I’ll have to find out if it’s something new or if I’ve always had one,” I answered, studying my small dark eyes. Were they the eyes of a kind and gentle man, or were they what people saw right before I gunned them down?

  “You clean up a little and I’ll go check on the others,” Morgan said. “They’re all next door at Ronnie and DeeDee’s. Maybe they can join us for a bite.”

  I signaled yes with a nod and continued to stare at my reflection. So that’s what Quinn Reynolds looked like. Go figure.

  “Sheriff!” Art shouted as he pounded on the front screen door. “Sheriff, you’d better come outside. There’s a man here to see you. Says he needs to talk.”

  Morgan and I exchanged a brief glance and I headed for the front door. As I wen
t by the kitchen, I paused and grabbed my gun from the counter. I wasn’t sure why; it just seemed like the right thing to do.

  “I’m coming with you,” Morgan said just before I went outside.

  I peeked back, stuffing the gun through my belt in the center of my back. “Suit yourself. But if it’s Shaklin or one of his men—”

  Morgan shook away my concern. “I don’t give a damn. I’m never going back.”

  “Okay,” I replied casually. “Let’s go see who it is then.”

  The man standing at the end of my walkway was odd in my mind. He wore tan boots, tan pants and a tan shirt under a thin, light-weight, tan duster. On top of his head was a tan ball cap with faded words that I couldn’t read.

  The oddest part of the tan man was his blond mustache. It was a fu manchu type of thing with the ends hanging a good inch past the edge of his chin. He was medium build, like me, and was conversing casually with Art. That changed when Morgan let the screen door slam shut. Then we had his full attention.

  “Sheriff Reynolds,” the man said with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me. I promise I won’t take but a moment of your valuable time.” I could tell already he was a slick one. I needed to watch what I said to him.

  “My name is Palmer,” he continued. “I hear you’ve been gone for a number of weeks from your fine village here. Would you care to share with me where you might have been?”

  Wow, we’d been back maybe three hours and people were already after us.

  “Can’t see where that’s any of your business, Mr. Palmer,” I replied tightly.

  He smiled and nodded once. “Okay, perhaps you can tell me if you might have gone south in the direction of Hymera.” His eyes narrowed and his smile faded. “Specifically, in the area of Tony Shaklin’s farm.”

  Oh yeah, he was going to be a problem alright.

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  I slid the gun from behind my back and let it hang by my side. I noticed him sneer when he saw the weapon. I couldn’t tell if that was a bad thing or not.

  “There’s no need for violence, Sheriff Reynolds,” Palmer said, pointing at my gun. “I’m simply making inquiries for a client.”

  “Shaklin,” Morgan muttered loud enough for all to hear.

  Palmer nodded and tipped his hat at Morgan. “Yes, Mr. Shaklin has asked me to track down some of his property that he believes to be stolen.”

  “So you’re a bounty hunter?” I asked, making sure to sound like I was as uninterested in him as possible.

  He smiled broadly. “No, I’m what they call a tracker. I help track down missing things. I wouldn’t associate with that kind of vermin scum that resorts to violence when honest conversation usually clears things up.”

  It was my turn to smile. “Do you have a gun, Mr. Palmer?” He nodded several times. “Do you feel the need to pull it out right now?”

  “Given your reputation, Sheriff,” he replied somberly. “I don’t believe that would be wise. I simply carry a gun to protect myself from people on the road that might think about causing me harm. I prefer not to use it.”

  He was quite a talker, but I wasn’t interested in what he might be selling. It was time for him to leave.

  “Might I ask,” he said, pointing at Morgan, “are you perhaps one of Mr. Shaklin’s missing employees? Are you here on your own volition or were you forced to leave?”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Morgan answered, stepping beside me.

  He grinned and looked back at me. “I see, I see.”

  “Maybe it’s time you hit the road, Mr. Palmer,” I said, motioning to Art. “Deputy Art here can show you the way out of town.”

  His head dropped forward and when he looked up again, he had the cold eyes of a man who wasn’t used to rejection.

  “I was hoping to find a peaceful resolution to this issue,” he said quietly. “Mr. Shaklin has assured me that if his property is returned right away, there will be no hard feelings. I believe you’ll find he’s a reasonable man to deal with.”

  “There’s no property here that belongs to Tony Shaklin,” I growled. “There are people here, and they’re all free to come and go as they please.”

  We each took a step closer to each another, staring into each other’s narrowed eyes.

  “I may be the first person who’s come looking for the five women,” he said just above a whisper. “But I won’t be the last. I think you’ll find most people doing Mr. Shaklin’s work to be rather gruff. I’m giving you an opportunity for a non-violent end to this. Others won’t be so kind.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I replied, pointing at Art. “Now if you don’t mind, we’d all like to go back to enjoying our day without someone threatening us.”

  He spat between us. “It’s your town, Sheriff. Enjoy your day, while you can.”

  Art took him by the arm, which he pulled away and Morgan and I watched him disappear to the south. When he was gone, I turned to find her already staring at me.

  “We need to let everyone know that there’ll be people coming, looking for us,” she said with a frown. “This makes me a little nervous, to be honest. You?”

  I guided her back into the house and closed the screen door quietly. Oddly, I didn’t have one concern about someone like Palmer. I knew, somewhere inside of my soul, that they’d have to be taken care of promptly. And for some reason, that didn’t make me nervous at all.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  Sara and Liv seemed to understand the threat without any question. When Morgan mentioned they shouldn’t go outside without an armed chaperone, both agreed instantly. I wish I could have said the same was true with the other two runaways.

  “He knows we’re here,” Sasha cried, clutching at my arm. “You have to do something; something right away.”

  “There’s nothing to be done at this point,” Morgan replied in a crabby voice. “It’s not like Quinn is going to go find everyone that could come after us and gun them down. Don’t be stupid.”

  “But you could post armed guards everywhere,” Charolette added, jumping on Sasha’s hysterics train. “They could just shoot anyone that came close.”

  I’m sure in their minds they would be stolen from their beds and dragged back to Shaklin’s farm by someone bad. Once there, they’d be punished within an inch of their lives and chained to a post for the rest of eternity. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Ronnie told me he and his brother will take turns keeping watch for a while,” I replied, trying to sound calm. “No one is going to waltz in here and take anyone. Don’t worry. Art has already rounded up 10 volunteers to watch the roads coming into town 24/7. You’ll be safe.”

  “How long will we be safe for?” Charolette asked, still quite shaken. “Shaklin has a long memory, and lots of people on his side.”

  I took the trembling girl’s hand tightly. “We have lots of people on our side, too. Try to not worry.”

  That was dumb advice and I knew it. Sasha and Charolette probably wouldn’t eat for days, but at least they’d been told to expect trouble.

  The next morning, I awoke just after sunrise and found Morgan clinging to me in bed. She wasn’t scared I figured, she just wanted to be held. And if I was honest, I kind of liked it myself.

  “You getting up?” she whispered.

  That was a good question; a great question actually. I needed to get down to the office and figure out what it was that I did around Pimento. Thus far, Art had been fairly vague as to my usual daily duties. I needed to change that.

  “You stay in bed and get some more sleep,” I replied, kissing her forehead before I got up. I heard her roll over and found her staring at me when I looked back.

  “You want me to make you some breakfast?” she asked nicely. “Someone brought over some coffee, real coffee. They told me how to make it and I wrote it down. Can’t be that hard.”

  I sat back down on the squishy bed and stroked her hair. “Morgan, you don’t need to wait on me or do
anything for me. I don’t know what our roles are yet and you probably don’t either. You don’t have to play the dutiful wife for me; I like you just the way you are. And hopefully when my memory comes back, I’ll remember what we were planning together.”

  She sighed and fussed with the covers on her chest. “I can cook, just so you know. I know how to do wash, split wood, bandage wounds…all kinds of stuff.”

  I reached for her hand. “I’ve already seen you do all of that. I know you’re an amazing person. You don’t have to wait on me though. I don’t think I’m like that.”

  She seemed saddened by something I’d said. “Amazing, just not amazing enough for you. Is that what you’re saying?”

  I smiled. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. Just give me time to try and remember, okay? That’s all I’m asking for. I promise there’s no one else waiting in the wings. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

  That seemed to comfort her enough to where she gave me a soft smile. If I’d only had a memory, I would have known that what I’d told her wasn’t necessarily true. Not by a long shot.

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  I sat at my desk, studying my office surroundings; surroundings that didn’t mean a thing to me. If I had thought that waking at Shaklin’s farm back on that first day was odd, Pimento trumped that times four.

  The roller chair I sat in had an awful squeak every time I moved. It was comfortable but alerted my deputy to the point where he looked at me each time it made the loud piercing noise, as if wondering if he could help me. If only he could.

  The wooden desk was old and had lots of chunks missing from the top and sides. What the chair hadn’t knocked away, someone had finished the job with what looked to be a knife. That made the writing surface nearly unusable; not that I recalled ever writing anything in an office I’d only seen for the first time the previous day. It was all new to me in my post-head injury state.