Jules wondered how Beckerman had found out who AJ was, if he indeed had. In Jules' mind, the most likely source would have been Heath or Dallin. But neither Heath nor Dallin had mentioned anything to her. Could Beckerman have talked to someone else, like Albrecht? The truth was Jules might never know how Beckerman had found out about AJ or if he actually had. The day he called her, he was literally out of his mind.
"What was the deal with Cole?" she asked him. Jules had been curious. "Why did he call Dallin, Chester?"
Heath laughed and shook his head. "Kids stuff," he told her, sounding exasperated. "Chester's a nickname my granddaddy gave to Dallin. Chester was a deputy on some old cowboy show called Gunsmoke. Apparently, Chester would follow the sheriff around like a puppy or something. Chester had a bum leg and limped around. And, as you know, Dallin stutters. And when we were kids, he used to follow me and Caleb around all the time. One day my granddad called Dallin, Chester, a few times and it stuck. But I don't think I've heard it since we were in junior high. Of course, Cole's got a bit of a history with Dallin. Dallin arrested him several years ago on a drunk and disorderly. They scuffled some. You know what Cole can be like."
"Yes. I do."
"The two of them have never gotten along," he added.
"I guess boys will be boys," Jules said.
After that, they rode in silence till they were about five miles from St. George. Heath spotted them first. Jules had been busy watching the landscape and daydreaming.
"What the hell?" he asked.
He slowed to a stop and grabbed the binoculars from the back seat and got out of the jeep. Jules got out too.
Several miles ahead, a large shape-shifting mass was spread out across both sides of the freeway. A faint hum filled the air. As far away as they were, Jules couldn't make out whether they were headed their way or not.
Heath answered her question. "Headed this way," he said. "Some alphas out front. At least, I guess they're alphas. Never seen one before. We can forget about the distribution center."
"Mind if I take a look?" Jules asked.
Heath handed her the binoculars. "Here you go."
Jules couldn't see the end of them. They funneled through a gap where the freeway had been cut out from a long ridge of red rock. The freeway couldn't contain them all. They spilled over onto both sides of the freeway. Three alphas were out front leading them. A male and two females. The alphas moved forward while running in what appeared to be a horizontal figure eight or infinity pattern. An army of infected trudged behind them.
"Got to be ten thousand of them," Heath said.
"Where do you think they came from?"
"St. George or Vegas would be my guess," he said. "Doesn't hardly matter where they came from though. They're headed our way. That's all that matters."
Jules handed the binoculars back to Heath. "How long before they get to Gideon?"
"They'll hit Cedar first. If they move at two miles per hour, human beings walk at three, it'll take 'em maybe twenty to twenty-five hours to get to Cedar. Maybe another six to Gideon. I suspect they'll be spending some time in Cedar. Thirty thousand people live in Cedar City. I imagine they'll be there a while. A week, a month. Who knows? We'll have plenty of time to figure out what to do."
Heath kept his speed above ninety on the drive back.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," she said. "About Josh. Where did he learn to shoot like that?"
Heath glanced at her. "Josh was a Special Forces sniper in the army. Two tours in Afghanistan. Joined up after college is what I've heard. Came home after that and went to work for Hinckley Tech. Then he came to Gideon. Why do you ask?"
"I've been wondering," Jules said. "He has some real skills when it comes to shooting. Not sure I've ever seen anyone that good."
Chapter 22
The Last Supply Run
As Cole drove his Tundra down South Main in Cedar City, Jules glanced up to where the four snipers were setting up their positions on the overpass.
It was six-thirty. The morning was still as could be.
The snipers were hunters armed with rifles. As had been suggested at the town meeting, the supply run was being handled like a military operation. Two teams of four snipers were deployed on each side of the freeway. If cars came from any direction, the snipers would be in position to give support.
A half-dozen cars from Gideon had been used to block the intersection at the underpass to keep cars from the main area of Cedar City from getting through. Those who drove the cars were already being shuttled back to Gideon. Two pickup trucks with armed men were stationed at the South Main intersection this side of the underpass. They'd make it difficult for anyone to use the main road on this side of the freeway. With all the added security, the decision had been made to extend the supply run to half an hour. They wanted to get as many supplies as possible. Over thirty people from Gideon had volunteered for the supply run.
Jules and Cole were assigned to keep any infected past the Macey's area occupied and away from the store and to keep South Main free of the infected for a fast getaway for the teams stationed at the intersection.
Cole had been quiet most of the way. The only thing he would talk about was the supply run, and when he talked about it, he spoke as if he were the expert on everything related to the supply run and Jules was little more than a novice. He warned her on what she should and shouldn't do. He told her things she already knew, things that Cole knew she knew. Jules considered it nervous talk.
Jules noticed throughout the trip that Cole kept stealing glances at her. He hadn't shaved since Sophie's death, and he looked more bedraggled than ever.
Down the second side street, a group of fifty or so infected, looking like ghosts in their dusty-gray clothes, were headed toward South Main.
"Dammit to hell, they must have seen the cars," Cole said. "We need to redirect their zed asses."
Cole turned down the street.
"Might be better if we went down the next street and came up from behind them. Draw them to us from behind. Might be safer," Jules suggested.
"I know what the hell I'm doing," Cole said defensively. "I've actually done this shit before. This ain't no FBI operation, Jules. And you sure as hell ain't the one in charge here."
Cole was acting strange, even for Cole. While he was being his usual abrasive self, he'd also called her Jules for the first time.
"No one said this was an FBI operation, Cole," Jules said calmly. "I thought it might be best if we considered what the best strategy might be."
"I'm driving," he said. "That there's the best strategy."
There was no point in arguing with him.
Cole veered onto a driveway on the left side of the street where there were no grays. He drove roughly through the front yards and sailed past the infected who turned their heads to watch them.
"There. See how simple that was," Cole said.
The infected had already turned around to follow them.
They drove to the end of the street and Cole turned right. At the third house down to their left, four men were walking from a house toward a Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. They all saw each other at the same time. Two of the men looked familiar to Jules. One wore a baseball cap with a flat bill, the other was tall and skinny. She realized the tall, skinny man was Brad, the same man who'd tried to talk Jules and Addy into pulling over the first day of their trip. The man in the Yankees' cap had been the driver, the one in charge.
One of them, a stout thick-bodied man in a crew cut, had a shotgun. He held it at waist level and aimed it at the Tundra and fired. The pellets struck the front grill and the engine made a high-pitched whistling sound followed by a hard knocking.
The man in the baseball cap ran around the Bronco and opened the passenger side door. He reached down, came out with a large gun, and walked calmly in the direction of the truck, stopping every few steps to aim and fire at them. His first bullet blasted a hole in the windshield, another pinged off Co
le's door, a third shattered Cole's door window.
"Holy shit!" Cole wailed. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?"
Jules drew her gun from the holster. "Floor it, Cole," She yelled. "Get as far down the street as you can. We need to get as far away from them as possible."
Cole ducked his head below the level of the window and hit the gas hard and the truck sputtered past the four men.
Brad stood with his long legs apart, arms extended, both hands gripping a revolver. He fired several wild shots at the truck.
Cole brushed tiny shards of glass out of his hair.
From the passenger side, Jules had no decent shot to take. She didn't have a good look and didn't want to waste bullets.
A second blast from the shotgun pelted the back bumper and blew out the back tire.
The shredded rubber flapped loudly against the asphalt. A few moments later the back wheel began screeching against the asphalt and the truck careened sharply to its left. The truck hit the curb and bounced onto a front yard.
They were three houses past the four men.
"Get back out on the street, Cole," Jules barked.
Cole jerked the steering wheel to the right, keeping his head down, but overcorrected, and they crossed the street as the engine died and the truck coasted onto another front lawn.
Jules looked back and the four men were running back toward the Bronco.
"Get out of the truck now," Jules yelled at Cole. "Keep low."
"All right," he whined. "I'm getting out. Just stop yelling at me."
Jules crawled out on Cole's side of the truck to give her cover. The Bronco roared down the street. She looked for the snipers on the freeway, but the two-story homes across the street were in the way. They wouldn't be getting any help from the snipers.
"We need to get into the backyard."
They ran for the gate to the backyard on the side of the house. Cole was still hobbled by his sprained ankle, but he moved quickly. Jules shut the gate behind them and surveyed the backyard. No cover anywhere.
"We'll have to go over the fence," Jules told him. "Call Caleb and tell them we're in trouble. And please, make it fast. I doubt the snipers can help us. Looks like their view's blocked."
Cole got on the walkie-talkie. "Caleb? You there? C'mon. Pickup. We're in some real shit here."
"That you, Cole?"
"Of course, it's me. Got four hostiles with guns after us and the truck's deader than a doornail. We need help."
"Where are you?"
"I don't know. We're in some backyard, and they're coming for us. Wait. Wait a minute. I know. We're two blocks past Macey's. Take a left. Down a block, then a right. Halfway down the block you'll see the truck in the front yard. That's where we're at."
Jules heard the Bronco enter the driveway. The tires squealed as the car braked, and she heard the four doors crack open.
"Time to go, Cole," she told him. "We can't wait. We need to get over that fence, and we need to do it now."
"Gotta go, Caleb. They're coming."
They ran to the back fence and Jules motioned for Cole to go over first. He tossed his gun and walkie-talkie over the six-foot wood fence. Then he reached for the top of it.
Jules depressed the trigger safety and aimed her Glock at the gate door. After Cole was over, she'd fire a couple warning shots at the gate and then climb over herself.
She heard the four men talking in hushed voices as they approached the gate. Jules knew she'd have to shoot anyone that came through the gate.
Jules glanced back. Cole's right leg was halfway up, but he was struggling to pull himself up all the way.
"You need help?" Jules asked.
Cole grunted. "I can do it," he told her.
The men had stopped talking but Jules could hear their footsteps. She clenched her teeth and took aim. A moment later, the gate door creaked open. Brad peeked through the opening, crouched down, his revolver positioned under his chin. He stopped when he saw her, his mouth open. He seemed stuck in limbo not knowing what to do.
Jules aimed for his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, but the only sound the Glock made was a faint click. Jules pulled the trigger again and the same thing happened.
Emboldened, Brad pushed the gate open and walked toward them. He had his revolver pointed at Jules, a wide grin breaking out on his face.
Jules slowly placed her gun on the ground and raised her hands and interlaced them behind her head.
"Hey, where ya think you're going?" Brad suddenly asked, raising the angled trajectory of his revolver well above Jules head.
The others followed Brad into the backyard, guns raised. Brad fired twice.
Jules ducked and turned around, keeping her hands on the back of her head. Cole had finally made it to the top of the fence. He wobbled atop the fence drunkenly as if he couldn't make his mind up which way to go. Blood spurted from a head wound, and then Cole toppled over to the other side.
"See that," Brad said excitedly. "I got him. Shot him right in the fucking head."
Jules turned back around and got down onto her knees. She stared at the ground. She wanted to appear as docile and cooperative as she possibly could. Stay alive as long as you can, she told herself.
Maybe Caleb and the others would come for her.
Laughing, Brad turned his revolver back on Jules. They all had their weapons leveled at her.
"Hello, Brad," she said, not looking up.
"What?" he asked. He squinted his eyes as he approached her.
"Holy Shit," he exclaimed. "I don't fucking believe it. Jesse, it's that bitch that ruined your car."
As the others walked over to Jules, Jesse placed his gun into the back of his jeans. When he reached her, he squatted down and put his finger under her chin. He lifted it up and turned her head both ways to get a good look at her profile. "Yeah," he said flatly. "That's her."
Jesse's expression never changed. Jules made sure to never look him directly in the eye. She wanted him to think she was frightened.
He reached down without saying anything more and drew Jules' crowbar out from her belt.
Jesse had a burly, athletic build with broad shoulders and a dark olive face. Besides the Yankees' baseball cap, he wore a plain black t-shirt and jeans.
He walked around and stood behind her.
Jules didn't like him standing behind her. She sensed there would be no rescue.
"What should we do with her?" Brad asked.
Before Jesse answered, Jules felt a sharp crack at the back of her skull. A moment of searing pain was followed by an all- enveloping darkness. After that, she didn't feel a thing.
Chapter 23
Jesse
Jules' senses were coming back as if she'd awakened from a deep sleep. A heavy, dull aching had taken up residence in the back of her skull, and the aching felt as if it had become a part of her.
It took her a few moments to recover the memory of what had happened. The faint, empty click of her Glock. Rhythmic spurts of blood from Cole's head wound. His falling over the fence. The ridiculous smirk on Brad's face. Jesse getting uncomfortably close.
Jules was riding in a car. She was certain of it. She could hear the whirring of the engine and the sound of tires spinning on the pavement. She could feel the movement too. They were going fast and Jules wondered where they were headed.
She couldn't let them know she was conscious, but she needed to assess the situation. She fought against an impulse to lift her head. Her shoulders and upper back sagged forward, and her chin bone dug mercilessly into her clavicle. Jules cracked her eyelids open a split-second, long enough to get a glimpse.
She was in the back seat between two men. A shotgun was propped between the legs of the man to her right. He was the same man who'd fired the shotgun twice at their truck and disabled it. He held the mid-point of the barrel loosely with his right hand. The man to her left had long, skinny legs. She assumed it was Brad.
Jules had also noticed her hands. They were tight
ly trussed up with cable ties.
"Ah … listen, Jesse. I was wondering …"
"Don't ask," a man in front cut him off, his voice gravelly and low, authoritative. "You know better."
The first voice had belonged to Brad.
"I thought since she, ah, ruined your car and all …" Brad said, his voice trailing off.
"Don't matter none. How many times do I have to tell you we don't do that kind of shit. She'll get hers, and it'll be fair."
After that, there was no more talking.
A few minutes later, Brad leaned in against Jules and put his hand on her thigh. He whispered in her ear, "You sure are one lucky bitch. If it was up to me …" and he lowered his voice even more. "You see, something happened to Jesse's sister back in high school, and he don't truck with none of that shit. Now, if it was up to me … we'd be partying."
Jules pretended she hadn't heard a word Brad had said, and she ignored the movement of his hand on her thigh.
She had to focus on what she could do. She was certain they were on a highway or a freeway. They had to be going seventy or eighty, and there'd been no slowing or stopping. Jules wondered how long she'd been out. It could have been hours.
She thought about pretending to wake up to get some idea of where they were headed. But she knew it wasn't a good idea. Not yet.
A bad feeling engulfed her, and she did her best to ignore it. Focus on what you can do, she told herself. Jules wasn't sure if there was anything she could do. She was tied up and there were four of them, and they were all armed. If she pretended to be groggy, maybe, at just the right moment, she could get her hands on the shotgun.
The car slowed. Whatever was going to happen would happen soon. Jules groaned softly as if she were regaining consciousness.
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 17
