"Holy shit," Brad spat out slowly. "Looks like the little princess is finally waking up."
Jules played along. She struggled to lift her head and open her eyes.
Brad elbowed her roughly in the arm and laughed. "You been out half the day, princess. Good timing though. The fun's about to start."
Jules didn't respond to Brad's elbowing. She pretended she hadn't noticed. Instead, she let herself feel the pain at the back of her head. She wanted to touch it with her hands but couldn't. She winced and glanced up. They were in the Bronco and two men were in the front. Jesse was driving.
They were nearing the Shell Station. The memory of Big John lumbering frantically down the aisle was still fresh in her mind, and she recalled the human bones scattered on the floor of the market. Jules knew what was coming.
They cruised into the Shell Station and Jesse parked the Ford Bronco away from the front doors at the furthest side of the parking lot. He killed the engine and stared out the window for a while. No one said a thing. He turned and gave Jules a stony-eyed look. Jules wondered if he had any other kind of look. She acted as if she were disoriented.
Jesse had brooding mud-colored eyes. They gave nothing away. He wore the same dark week-old beard she'd seen before. The baseball cap obscured half his forehead. Here and there, swirly tufts of black hair escaped from underneath the cap. He didn't say a word but kept staring at her. Then he abruptly turned back around.
"Time to get out," he said as he exited the car.
The man with the shotgun grabbed Jules hair with his free hand and dragged her out of the car.
Jules stumbled on the asphalt and nearly tripped. She had to grab the shirt of the man dragging her to keep from falling. The back of her head felt heavy, yet she felt light-headed at the same time. There were moments when she felt as if it was the ground underneath her that was unsteady rather than her. She kept blinking her eyes to protect them from the bright sun.
The four men formed a circle around her as if they were bullies in a school yard. Jules noticed her shoulders were still hunched forward, her head still bent down. She thought it was the result of a protective instinct. She wasn't doing it intentionally. She realized there wasn't going to be a perfect moment for her to grab the shotgun. In her wobbly condition, she simply wasn't capable, and there were too many of them.
Jules noticed her red crowbar was perched on Jesse's shoulder. He held it there as if he were mimicking Paul Bunyan holding an ax. The four of them looked at Jules with grim faces and no one said a thing.
They were waiting for Jesse to speak.
"We're going to give you a chance, Missy," Jesse said. "That's why we parked over here. So Big John wouldn't hear us and know we're here. 'Cause if he did, he'd be at the door waiting for your skinny ass, and that wouldn't be fair to you. See, it's going to be you and him, everything equal. And if you get out alive, we're gonna let ya go." He tapped the crowbar as he spoke. "You got my word on that. But you see … the thing is, Big John's at a disadvantage. He don't move as well as he used to. Back in the day, that big hog could move. Should have seen him play the game. Defensive lineman. So, you see, we need to even the odds a bit."
Jesse's movement was cat-quick. Jules could see the arc of the crowbar as it made a blurry descent toward her leg. She watched it with a detached curiosity as if it was happening to someone else and not her. Then she realized it was happening to her. And while she recognized the need to do something, she couldn't get out of the crowbar's way. It struck her in the mid-thigh area of her left leg and Jules screamed in pain.
She looked up at Jesse.
A slow smile formed on his face. "Shhhh, Missy," he warned. "You better hold it down." He pressed a finger to his lips for emphasis. "Big John's gonna hear ya, and trust me, you don't want that."
Jules held her thigh on either side of the wound. The pain was so sharp it made her forget about her head. There were two puncture marks at least a half inch deep. Blood began to soak her jeans below the wound.
"Cut her loose," Jesse said.
The other man who'd been in the front of the car with Jesse pulled a knife from its sheath and cut the cable ties binding her hands.
"Let's go," Jesse ordered.
Brad and the man with the shotgun each grabbed one of her arms and dragged Jules in the direction of the front door. She tried digging her heels into the asphalt but couldn't put any pressure on her injured leg.
"No!" she yelled at them.
They laughed and in no time had Jules at the front door. She could see Big John halfway down the front aisle, his head dangling to the side, staring curiously.
"You're on your own," Jesse said.
They opened the door and threw her in.
Jules landed hard on the floor. She yelped in pain and tried to catch her breath. Each inbreath came with a shrill grunt, mirroring the pain in her leg. She reached for her thigh but didn't want to touch it. The pain was intense but made her more alert.
Big John leered at her like some lunatic, his head tilted at a ridiculous angle as if one side of his head were heavier than the other. His head kept bobbing toward his right shoulder. Jules noticed his jeans were badly-soiled underneath the red and yellow smock, and she could smell his foul odor.
Suddenly, he moved with great urgency toward her.
In a panic, Jules used her hands and arms to drag herself into the second aisle. She knew she had to get up. She'd never get away from him by crawling.
"Get up, Jules!" she yelled at herself. "Get the fuck up!"
She could hear them laughing outside.
Jules propped herself up onto her hands and knees. She had to get up. She heard his shoes scraping noisily against the linoleum. He was coming for her.
Jules grabbed a shelf to help pull herself up. She grunted and pushed herself up off the floor with one hand and pulled herself up with the other—her leg little more than dead weight. As she struggled to get to her feet, the shelf partially gave way and several bottles of cold medicine crashed to the floor.
She took a first step and howled in pain and determination. She hobbled down the aisle, stepping gingerly on her injured leg but moving faster with each step. She grunted from the pain and the effort. If she wanted to survive, and she did, Jules knew she'd have to put the pain out of her mind.
He was in the same aisle now. Each of his breaths were drawn-out hysterical moans. Jules began to move faster. She looked back and he was ten feet behind her. He moved determinedly, but Jules was creating separation.
A weapon was what she needed. She had to find one. Jules was thinking logically. It was a good sign. She looked around but didn't see anything she could use. Just candy, chips, cold medicine and other odds and ends. She had to find something to help her kill him.
She wondered if they would really let her go if she managed to kill Big John. Jules knew believing or trusting Jesse would be a mistake. She had to assume that even if she were to kill Big John, she'd still have to deal with the four of them outside.
Jules kept having conversations with herself as she trudged around the service mart.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself. One thing at a time. It was something her stepfather had drilled into her over and over again growing up. She needed to focus on Big John first. If she couldn't kill him, the four men outside wouldn't matter.
Find a weapon!
Jules moved hurriedly down the aisles, grunting fiercely with each step. She kept looking around to see if she could spot some kind of weapon. Anything. Then she got an idea.
She glanced back. She was a full aisle ahead of him now. She went around to the next aisle and waited till he was halfway down the aisle. Then, with every ounce of strength she could muster, she tried to lift and push over the shelving at the end of the aisle. If it worked, she'd hobble down to the other end and push the shelving over there too. Trap him. But the shelving didn't budge, and the thought crossed her mind that the units might be bolted to the floor.
He was
getting closer.
Jules gave it one last try, but the shelving wouldn't move. He was getting too close now. She turned to run but stepped on something hard that skidded forward. Jules lost her footing and fell hard against the shelving to her right. She bounced off the shelving and fell to the floor. She knew she was in trouble. "Get up, dammit!" she yelled.
"That's it! That's it!" she heard Brad yell. "Big John's gonna get her."
She grabbed at another shelf but her hand slipped off its edge, and then she shrieked and grabbed at the shelf with both hands and pulled herself up to her knees. She'd heard him round the aisle and sensed he was right behind her. She grunted through clenched teeth and managed to get to her feet, but he fell into her legs from behind, and she was back on the floor again. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her left calf with both hands, and she couldn't get away from him.
"C'mon, get her!" someone yelled excitedly. They were all yelling now, cheering Big John on.
Jules rolled onto her back and tried to twist her leg free. It was impossible. He was too big and strong and had a firm grip on her calf. He reached up and grabbed her thigh right below her wound and Jules screamed in pain.
"No!" she howled defiantly. "No!"
Jules wasn't going to give up. She grabbed a plastic can of motor oil off a shelf and threw it at him. It glanced off his head and for a moment he looked confused.
She kicked him in the head with her free foot several times, but he barely seemed to notice.
Jules kept looking around for something, anything. She spotted something down by her hip. A tibia bone lay on the floor. It had to be what she'd stepped on. The bone brought up another image in her mind. A memory.
Jules reached for the bone as Big John awkwardly climbed up the left side of her body. His head was at her stomach now. She shoved her other hand into his neck to keep him at bay.
The stench from his body was dense and suffocating. Jules coughed and nearly choked from the odor. Big John reeked of stale urine and feces and rotting flesh. A gooey string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto her blouse.
He groaned and knocked her hand away from his neck and pinned her arm to the floor with both hands. His eyes grew wide and he went to bite her arm. As she tried to wrench her arm free, she smashed him upside the head with the bone, and then she did it again.
Big John stared her as if there was something wrong with her. There was a sudden roar outside that grew louder by the moment. Jules heard Brad and Jesse and the others shouting obscenities. Gunshots erupted and there was the squealing of tires.
Big John grunted and turned to look.
Jules took advantage and clubbed him again on the head as hard as she could, grunting as she hit him. She hit him again, and this time dark blood sprayed against a shelf of chips behind him. A few drops landed on Jules' cheek. She closed her eyes and struck him over and over again till he went limp and collapsed. His head struck the floor with a sickening thud.
Jules opened her eyes and examined herself. Several drops of blood had found her arm and her blouse. There was blood on her hand that had held the bone too.
Outside a door slammed shut and several more shots were fired at intermittent intervals. Five shots in all from the same gun.
Her left leg was still underneath him and Jules pushed him off her and carefully pulled her leg out from underneath him. She lay quietly in the aisle and didn't move. She couldn't.
She told herself she had to get up, but she didn't move a muscle. Instead, she remained motionless on the floor. She was spent.
Not long after the shots died out, she heard the pneumatic hinge. Someone was inside the mart.
She struggled to get up but all she could manage to do was to sit up with the support of her arms. Her legs were stretched out in front of her. She heard steps heading toward the aisle she sat in. She didn't have the energy to defend herself.
Caleb Sanderson appeared at the end of the aisle, a ready-to-fire Glock in his hand. "You all right?" he asked. "You kinda look like hell."
"No," Jules said testily. "I'm not all right." She wasn't sure why she was so angry at Caleb. His showing up had almost certainly saved her life.
"I'm sorry," she added. "I'm not having the best day."
"Let's get you the hell out of here," he said.
"Be careful. I've got some of his blood on me," she said.
Caleb kicked Big John in the gut once to make sure he was dead, then helped Jules get to her feet.
Outside, Jesse's men lay in the parking lot, none of them moving. At least three of them had been hit by Caleb's bull bar. Brad had taken the worst of it. His long limbs were twisted at crazy angles like a rag doll carelessly tossed to the ground. Jesse lay on his back staring into the sky with his mouth open and a bullet hole tucked neatly in the center of his forehead. His Yankees' cap was missing.
Jules leaned against the truck for support. The nerves in her thigh screamed at her. She breathed slowly and tried to calm the pain down. A thought came to her.
"Wait," she said, feeling confused. "How did you know I would be here?"
"Cole. He overheard everything. I guess they thought he was dead. He says they never checked on him. He heard them mention going to the Shell Station on 89 and something about Big John. He kept pestering me till I agreed to go after you."
"He's all right? I saw him get shot in the head."
"Bullet grazed his temple pretty good. Lucky as hell. He wanted to come with. I told him no. Didn't want to put anyone else at risk. Besides, Cole never knows when to shut up."
"Thank you for coming for me," Jules said quietly. The words didn't come easily for her and were accompanied by a wave of emotion she kept at bay.
"Yeah. Sure," he said.
Jules gestured to where her crowbar lay on the ground not far from the truck. "I'd like my crowbar back. Could you get it for me?"
Caleb chuckled softly and shook his head.
It was the first time she'd heard anything resembling a laugh from Caleb.
He set the crowbar on the hood of the truck near where she was leaning. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said.
"The blood on my leg's mine. The blood on my face and arm and hand are his. My blouse too."
Caleb retrieved a clean white rag and the bottle of rubbing alcohol from his truck and cleaned Jules' off. He started to clean the drool and blood from her blouse but stopped. He stared disapprovingly at her blouse and shook his head. "The blouse has to go. Best not take any chances," he said.
Caleb pulled his short-sleeved henley off and handed it to Jules. "Lose the blouse … just to be safe."
He turned around to give her privacy.
After she'd put on Caleb's henley and discarded the blouse, Caleb helped her into the truck. Shotgun pellets had peppered the upper part of the windshield and there were two bullet holes on the driver side. Jules thought Caleb must have ducked at just the right time. She realized Caleb Sanderson had risked his life for her.
Caleb climbed into the truck and looked at Jules. He appeared to be mulling something over. "Back in a minute," he told her and headed back into the mart.
He came back with three plastic bags of assorted items. He handed Jules a bottle of Tylenol along with a bottle of water. "Might take the edge off."
He handed her the bags to put on the floor. "Not sure the sandwiches are any good. The rest of the stuff should be fine."
One of the bags was filled with bottles of water. The others contained an assortment of sandwiches, candy, and chips. After downing a couple Tylenol, Jules grabbed a Snickers bar.
"Might want to flush that wound out with some water. You can use one of the white rags in the back there. They're clean."
Jules looked in the back and grabbed one of the rags. "Yes. They'll do fine. Thanks."
They rode in silence for hours and Jules watched the desert fly by. The desert terrain seemed like a broken record to her. She kept fingering the walnut-sized knot she'd found on the back of
her head. It felt as if a rock were embedded there. Jules suspected she had a slight concussion.
Jules realized how close she'd come to dying and was puzzled as to how she should feel about it. All she knew for certain was that she felt grateful to be alive.
The pain was constant, but she felt better. She thought about Caleb. For the life of her, she couldn't figure him out. He often came off as blunt and cold, and a few hours ago he'd killed four men without blinking an eye. Was he a sociopath? Jules reasoned that they were trying to kill Caleb, her too, and he was justified in killing them. What she couldn't get past was his coming after her. The skeptical part of her couldn't help but wonder why he'd come after her. She didn't believe he'd come after her simply because Cole had nagged him into it.
And then there was Addy. She still didn't know what that was all about. Caleb hadn't gone anywhere near Addy since that day.
"There's something you ought to know," Caleb said suddenly.
Jules glanced at him. Caleb kept his eyes on the road.
"Okay," she said, curious.
"I've got your Glock. It's in the glove box."
Jules opened the glove box and retrieved her gun.
"Cole told me your Glock didn't fire." He paused, then turned to look at her. "I took a quick look. Firing pin's missing. Seems like someone might want you dead, Jules. Have any ideas who that might be?"
The only one who made any sense was the Calligrapher, but she couldn't tell Caleb about the Calligrapher.
She shrugged her shoulders but didn't look at him.
"I've been thinking," he said coolly. "Has to be a reason you came to Gideon, Jules. And I'm not thinking it was for the fishin' or huntin'."
The pain in Jules' leg begged for attention. She grabbed two more Tylenol and downed them with water.
"No offense, Jules, but you're not exactly the outdoorsy type," he said. "I'm guessing your being in Gideon has to do with some FBI case you were working on."
He paused. "I'm figuring it would have to be something pretty damn serious for you to travel all the way to some no-nothing town in the middle of nowhere. I mean, the world's gone all to shit and here you sit."
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 18
