“Maybe get your own private quarters in the Mayor’s office. Offer to be her protector, right? The only one with a gun around this place.”
Hodge grinned, “yeah, something like that. As it happens, I’m not so sure you’ll be wanting to step in to offer your services, if you know what I mean. Not when you see her. Not that Justice Hayes gives a fuck, especially if the rumors about that guy are true. Ah well, why not allow the old man a final chance to get his dick wet. What is he, eighty-five? Good luck to the old prick.”
Jeff slapped Hodge again. “It’s good seeing you, sergeant, maybe we can get together for a beer when this is all done.”
His eyes narrowed on Jeff and was just about to say something when his two-way radio cracked to life.
“Sergeant Hodge, possible z in the woods to the west. I repeat, possible z in the woods to the west. Over.”
“Fuck,” Hodge rolled his eyes, “sorry about this. Some paranoid retard sees a deer and now I’m expected to trek off into the woods all on my own? I don’t think so. Anyway…” he grabbed his radio and spoke into it. “Roger that, coming down. Over.” Finally, he dashed in the direction of the stairwell and called over his shoulder, “I might just take you up on that beer, sarge.”
Jeff shook his head, “I wouldn’t count on it,” and moved in the direction of the singing.
There were at least a couple hundred people in the council chambers. At first glance, the activity appeared lethargic but that was because most people taking refuge were elderly, disabled, children, or women. Jeff had to look hard for any man who appeared capable of acting against him. There were two, maybe three who had anything resembling youth and stature and they were occupied unbolting seats from the floor, presumably so they could make room for the bunks that would soon be taking up the space. The last time that had happened in Redding was a couple of years back when forest fires had destroyed a few thousand homes. Now it was zombies.
A ring of sycophants were surrounding what had to be the old country star, who clearly thought she was still in her prime performing an ensemble on Broadway as she squawked into a mic gripped in a withered hand. Jeff still didn’t know who she was, although the song was vaguely familiar. To give her credit, even with the drilling permeating the music, she stoically kept at it while a duo of locals strummed the tune on guitars so that the entire chamber began to take on the feel of a camping trip. Tonight, no doubt, they’d be telling ghost stories. There was the familiar figure of Justice Hayes standing close, clapping, enthralled, looking almost normal when not togged in his robes. Judge Taylor wasn’t with them.
An entire wall of the chamber was given over to food, drinks, all kinds of good stuff, wine even. Bunks were now being dragged in by children and those who were too young to work crowded around various gaming stations in the corner. Mothers sat feeding their babies, whereas most of the older men, if not engaged in various menial tasks, were content to sit reading. It was hard to imagine there was anything wrong with the world.
Jeff moved slowly through the room, mostly unnoticed, but those who did see him gave lingering glances. The law of the jungle. In the absence of authority, the strong are the ones in charge. People might still assume order existed but without strong men around to enforce it, that order was only an illusion. These important city employees and their families might like to think otherwise but by the way they regarded him deferentially, the stares, the stepping aside to let him pass, that spoke more than their laws ever could. In the end, people were governed by instinct.
Though Jeff was under no illusion this state would last. The strong men would soon return, put down what zombies were scavenging for human meat outside, they would regain control and then exact the full retribution of the law upon those who’d used the temporary hiatus to do wrong. What Jeff was about to do, kidnap a fucking judge, was about the very last thing that would be overlooked. Jeff could still leave, go back to his vehicle and live out his life as he had the past few years. The worst he’d done so far was don his old uniform and impersonate a still serving soldier. That wasn’t even a crime. Claiming to be in false possession of orders, however, might mean more time in the labor camp, but he’d been made to do so many stints lately that such a prospect was hardly a deterrent. Either way, with zombies threatening, such crimes might be overlooked. In the absolute worst case scenario, the authorities might one day decide to catch up with him but for now, they had bigger fish to fry.
But kidnapping a judge? As soon as he attempted that, there’d be no going back, and it would be a lie if Jeff was to say that he did not consider turning around and walking away, despite everything.
But as soon as he saw her, all his resolve returned.
Judge Taylor was busy stacking the assembly chairs against the wall, which was a surprise, someone in her position pitching in with the graft, but that’s what disaster situations can bring out in people. A sense of community. Individuals sharing the burden, as well as resources. People at their best.
But Judge Taylor was not a good person.
It was the first Jeff had seen of the cunt in nearly eight years. To see her was to know none of his anger had subsided. She still had that same look about her, that everyone else was beneath her, even as she stooped to pick up another chair before carrying it across to the wall and stacking it atop another. It was all in the way she held her head, her nose, the way it turned up into an annoying snub you just wanted to tear off, how her crinkly lips were in a constant pout like a permanently puckered sphincter. Time to see how superior she really was.
“Ma’am,” he said, the bile building in his throat, “I have an order to take you to a more secure location.”
She turned around and stood straight to look at him. If she remembered Jeff’s weather-beaten face and distinctive crooked nose sustained in Afghanistan then he was about to find out. He’d changed since they’d last dealt with each other. How could he not have. He’d lost most of his hair and what little now existed was thin and gray. Jeff had lost near half his weight, though that process had been underway since throughout their dealings. His posture had become bent, a consequence, he was sure, of living in his car, and he’d engaged in more brawls with his fellow derelicts than he knew, lost teeth, brain cells, sense. The drink had hardly helped his appearance either. He was, Jeff accepted, considerably older looking than his forty-seven years. Not surprisingly, the judge passed over Jeff’s aspect with no hint of alarm registering upon that asshole for a mouth.
She folded her arms. “You have an order?”
Jeff nodded. “If you’d like to come with me, ma’am. I’ll see you outside.”
“An order for whom?” Her voice still reeked of privilege and Jeff found his hand balling unconsciously into a fist.
“Ma’am, I have an order to take you, Judge Taylor, to a more secure location. That is all I’m at liberty to say.” Jeff tried to maintain control over his temper, not easy considering, and was thankful he’d once been extremely practiced at such tasks, of giving orders, even if that had always been to his fellow soldiers, who had a duty to obey.
“That’s all you’re at liberty to say?” Her face didn’t move. “And how, sergeant,” she now glanced at his crumpled and faded jacket and spoke the word disparagingly, “can you be so sure that I’m Judge Taylor?”
It was then Jeff knew he’d fucked up. And who could blame him? This whole zombie thing had happened so fast and it wasn’t like it had been expected, that he’d had chance to run over his plan, to find some techie kid to make a convincing enough job Photoshopping a fake order, to wash and press his uniform, clean his boots, shave his fucking face, apply deodorant, brush what was left of his teeth. With Hodge, he’d at least been able to use his wits to think his way past but now, being faced with the bitch who’d destroyed his life, he found himself unable to think on the spot.
His belly churned. “You are Judge Taylor, are you not?”
She waited for a cessation in the nearby drilling. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m
not. My question is, sergeant, how did you know to come straight to me?”
Jeff finally found some semblance of wits. “I spoke with the sergeant downstairs, he told me.”
The harpy did not give an inch. “He described me in detail, did he? All from our very brief introduction?”
There was no need to play this game. He had his orders, such was his line, which meant that if she resisted he should just grab her arm and drag her out. “Ma’am, would you…”
“And where exactly do you intend on taking me? My office is here. My wife is here. My dog is here. This is the first I’ve heard of such nonsense. Might I see this order.” It wasn’t phrased as a question and Jeff wondered if she had just cause for being so paranoid. Probably. It was hardly likely Jeff was the only man she’d fucked over throughout her career.
Jeff shook his head and reached forth for her elbow, squeezing and giving her a tug in the direction of the exit. The feel of her limb was odious to him.
“Get off me.” She shrugged her arm away and then Jeff became aware that a crowd was forming. The singing had stopped.
“What is going on here?” It was Justice Hayes, the most senior member of the Supreme Court for the People’s Republic of California, and about as close to the Supreme Leader as you could get. A tumble of white hair was standing beside him and an aged hand slipped inside his elbow. Her name was Nancy-Jo Cartwright, Jeff finally recognized, a big star from forty years back but now with a cocaine and age-ravaged face she’d attempted to cover up with so much cosmetic surgery that nothing much moved when she attempted to frown at the intruder’s forlorn form.
“Justice Hayes, I have an order to transport Judge Taylor to a more secure location.” He could feel his narrative wilting under their stares and struggled to maintain a level tone, one of control and authority. More people gathered.
“Yes, I heard that part, where are you taking her?”
“Sir, I’m not at liberty to say. Orders.”
“You can say to me, you know who I am.”
Jeff didn’t respond. If he gave a location then he was giving up the ruse, his supposed authority, that he had the right to march into this room and take whoever’s name was supposedly written on his fictional document. Still, Jeff could feel the heat now and when he didn’t respond, the Justice raised his voice.
“Very well, if that’s how you’re playing it, then if you have the order, you must produce it. That, at least, is the process.” He was an old man, eighty-five, at least, but he still possessed an astonishing natural authority that could only come from a lifetime of high achievement. The man oozed power and Jeff had to remind himself it was all hollow, that there was nothing behind it, because there was not one person present who was physically capable of enforcing the old man’s wishes, not one person in the room who could make Jeff produce what he did not possess.
But still, Jeff found himself on a knife-edge. He could not continue holding firm under this pressure because he didn’t have anything to back up his story, his entire plan relied on this phony order and they’d called his bluff, he was done, he knew it, they knew it. He could run. That would be best. But he’d never get another shot at Taylor. In the moment, he very nearly succumbed to his visceral fury by concentrating years of pent up hatred into one devastating fist aimed right at her stub nose. He could do it. Still. He might even get clean away from the building but after raising such an awesome stink as that, it’d be unlikely he’d evade capture long enough to deal with the surgery after, even with all the men far to the south. He couldn’t allow that to happen, to deny them a visit. Like a traitor in the besieged fort, they’d give Jeff priority even over the zombies. They’d come for him, shit, it might only require Hodge to see it done. Jeff’s revenge only partially complete.
“Mabel,” Justice Hayes spoke with urgency, “phone that Hodge man, this minute. I want him up here and this sergeant removed.”
“Maybe order him to stay?” The botox interjected. “We could do with some extra muscle around here, just in case.”
Hayes’ top lip twitched at that. “Oh, no dear, he wouldn’t be much use. He doesn’t even have a weapon.”
“Still,” she squeezed his arm, “there are women and children up here, and weren’t some of those creatures spotted in the redwoods? Wendy says she saw movement around the market. What if they come inside?”
His jaw jerked and he waved away her irrational woman’s concerns. “Right now, dear, I’m more concerned with discovering this man’s identity. You understand, don’t you? If he looked like the sort to be carrying out important orders, which he doesn’t, but even if he did, he must still produce the paperwork,” Hayes spoke the last to Jeff, “especially when we were all advised to remain safe up here.”
“Agreed,” Judge Taylor took a step closer to the justice, safety, she assumed, “there’s something not right about him.”
“Right,” someone in the crowd agreed and then the last thing Jeff hoped to happen, did, “ain’t he the guy who was on the news a while back?”
Necks bent forwards as the scrutinizing gazes were renewed.
“I’ve … I’m sure I’ve seen you at the mission,” came a different voice, which prompted Jeff to check who’d spoken. It was an old man and volunteer he recognized from the homeless shelter.
“Fuck,” Judge Taylor’s hand came up to her mouth, “it’s that abusive shit I dealt with … wife beater…”
“Mabel,” Hayes cried out, throwing down Nancy-Jo’s arm, “get on the phone to Hodge, this minute.”
Taylor began backing away. “I know him now, it’s Jeff Harper.”
Jeff wasn’t particularly infamous but in a town the size of Redding, news gets about. It wasn’t his name that caused panic but rather how the judge had acted, the shrill way she’d spoken his name that prompted people to assume the very worst. The shouting began, pointing, and then the lights went out.
It was only the evening but still, there was enough darkness to frighten people, the loud clank that accompanies a sudden cutting of power, the shock, the fright, amplified by the fact people’s nerves were already shot, not merely by Jeff’s presence but everything else, the dead. Screams. Shoving. Jeff felt a hand wrap around his arm. He batted it aside and lunged for the judge.
“Get the fuck off me, this minute,” she yelled before being jerked forwards with such force that she fell onto her side.
More people were around Jeff, angry frowns, mostly, but one hand did clasp lamely upon his shoulder, and he instinctively raised his elbow to meet the source. It was Justice Hayes, and he fell back bleeding from the mouth, falling into Nancy-Jo Cartwright and landing upon her, cracking her skull against the floorboards.
Jeff strengthened his grip on Taylor’s wrist. “Move it or I’ll pull your fucking arm off.”
She commencing wailing and slid across the deck on her hip, those who were dumb enough to get in the way received a growling, or else a boot. She wasn’t the largest of women and could be dragged easily enough but it was a damned impediment, especially when she wriggled her wrist out of his grasp, which because of his sweat was a problem. Jeff stopped, warned everyone to stay clear, and took a moment to wrap the bitch’s sweater sleeve around his hand. He continued pulling her across the floor and made it as far as the doors before she was able to cast off the garment. The double doors happened to be on one of those spring-loaded hydraulic closers and because of the sheer size and grandiosity of them, they were particularly powerful. He had to let go of the judge to open them out from the center and she was shockingly quick to scramble away. Jeff lunged for her ankle and swung her into the door, smashing her head, taking a moment to survey the rest, shouting, yelling, pointing, threatening, but knowing their place, kids laughing, he pulling her up, she sinking back down, knee to the belly, slap to the head, shouting in her face, move, move, move or die, wrestling with the fucking doors, her neck crushed in his arm, fucking doors power-assisted, no fucking power, squeezing through a small gap, ripping her bo
dy through afterwards, tying the doorhandles together with the discarded sweater, she running for the stairs, slipping on her heels, tumbling down, fucking herself up, really bad, stopping on the glue, damned boobytrap, some fucking luck for once, running after her, standing on a fucking nail, screaming, sliding his foot off, damp boot, bitch semi-conscious, tugging her up, glue tearing her shirt clean off, fucking barbed wire, hurling her over it, smacking face on ground, searching for something to lay across obstacle, nothing, taking run up, foot excruciating, landing on barbs, shredding ass, grabbing judge, pulling her outside, car in sight, gentle slope, unsure if she’s alive, heavy breathing, she moans, resistance gone, dead weight, Hodge stumbling out from the trees, discarding someone’s entrails, hobbling closer, belly ripped open, appalling wound, nearing, reaching…
Jeff shoved the judge straight into Hodge, who took a chunk of meat straight out of her exposed arm. That roused her better than anything else and her scream was truly diabolical. Hodge’s M16 was slung limply over his shoulder and Jeff managed to slip a finger on the trigger. A burst of three bullets was sent vertically down the length of his thigh, shredding everything, exploding the knee, and embedding somewhere in the calf. He fell to the ground, still alive, and commenced clawing himself forwards whilst white fat oozed down his chin from the hunk of wobbly tricep clenched between his teeth. Jeff grabbed the judge and a minute later he was unlocking the trunk and bundling the bitch inside.
She saw the gag and length of rope he’d stashed in the spare wheel cavity and the sight of those things, if she hadn’t already known it, were enough to help her recognize the trouble she was in.
Jeff set to work applying the bonds behind her back. “If you haven’t guessed it by now, let me tell you. This is for what you did to me, to my beautiful boy, for destroying my family.” He slipped the gag around her neck and crammed the ball inside her mouth. “I just wanted you to know the reason, in case you die too early. You’ve had this coming a long time. You get your power from us. If you fuck us over, don’t be shocked when we come looking for you. My only surprise is that I got to you first.”
The Day After: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller Page 4
