by Caryl McAdoo
She could feel her face flushing, or maybe the fever coming back. She sure hoped not. That would mean more infection.
“Well, I suppose since we’re so close, we can check it out. The ammunition alone would be worth the detour. Then we’ll head on to Meems’ and Pop’s. No more side treks.”
Boy, that guy really did think he was king.
Still, he appeared to be level headed and smart. A good leader.
She for one intended to follow.
Boggs hated the way the new female talked to Jackson, but his Bubba liked her something fierce, so he guessed she would stay. At least the girl didn’t eat much, not like the new boy. That kid gobbled down the pig like plenty of fat porkers rolled over for the catching. Well, indeed a whole sounder ran the bottoms, but they usually stayed together.
The boy probably never looked up the wrong side of those sharp tusks though.
The little piggy roasting must have gotten left behind napping.
He closed his eyes enjoying the warm pig innards all over again. It always amazed him when people preferred the tougher parts, and to make it worse, they cooked it until it lost almost all its juices. Jackson tossed him a bone. Though still full, but gnawing on a bone might not be a bad idea.
Besides, he would never want the kid to think him an ungrateful dog.
Long into the night, the children took turns putting sticks on the fire. All except for Bubba, who fell asleep pretty quickly. Jackson stayed awake first when the others napped, then he woke Al up. He kept the fires blazing while Jackson went to sleep, then he woke McKenzie, and she took a turn.
The sister shook the new girl awake as the night sky lightened.
The fire warmed Boggs, and he rested well, but a bit before sunup, he decided he best check out the surroundings. He’d lost scent of the big cat before night settled on the camp. Best to go make sure the old boy didn’t hunt anywhere close.
After a wide arc around where his children slept and not even a whiff of the overgrown feline, he decided to ease on back. Should be light soon. A far off sound he’d not heard for a long time froze him; he held his breath as the rhythmic whoop neared. He spotted the noisy speck heading right for his kids then raced to the campsite.
The boys must have heard them, too. All three stood next to the biggest fire facing the sky.
“There it is.” Al pointed then jumped up and down. “It’s a Blackhawk. The marines have landed.”
Jackson shook his head. “No, my friend, look again. That helicopter is Russian.” He pointed as the whirlybird flew by. “See the hammer and sickle? It’s Russian for sure.”
It flew over as if the boys went unnoticed, but how, Boggs would never know. Maybe the master threw out a screen. Standing by that fire, he couldn’t understand how the blaze and its smoke didn’t alert the big mechanical bird that carried men inside its belly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jackson watched until the helicopter disappeared heading south. “What’s going on?”
“Appears enemy forces invaded. There’s that Naval Air Station not far from here in Grand Prairie.”
“Yeah, I know the place.” He looked at the nerd. Man, he hated it when the know-it-all was right. “But why would they attack us?”
“Probably the war.” Aria hugged herself against the morning chill. “Poppy heard on his ham radio after the flash. A big war started in the Middle East.”
War? In the Middle East? So had the Russians done this? He glanced at McKenzie then faced Aria. “How come your dad’s radio worked after everything went down?”
“He kept it down in the bomb shelter along with his little generator and batteries, so they were protected from the flash.”
Al nodded. “Intelligent man, your father. Anticipating an EMP.”
“Well.” McKenzie pointed at him. “Puts me in mind of Armageddon!”
When his sister sounded so sure of herself about stuff he knew good and well she didn’t really have a clue about…he hated it. And where she got all that fanatical sounding information, he’d never know. He looked at the nerd waiting for him to dispel her theory, but he remained silent. “No comeback?”
With a sigh, he shook his head just a little. “If one takes literally the Biblical Book of Revelation—written by John on the isle of Patmos—then her hypothesis has merit. But…” Al shrugged. “I personally don’t.”
Things were getting weird. If a war raged in the Middle East, that could be a logical reason why the Russians invaded the U.S., but whatever the Commie’s reasons, sounded to him that the world had gone crazy. He hoped his father made it over there. Maybe Pop knew a ham radio operator and could get some news.
Or…if only the whole situation could possibly be some insane dream, and he just hadn’t woke up. As much as he tried to wrap his mind around the limited facts available, he knew a night vision wouldn’t be so real.
Plus, dreams didn’t last a week.
War or not, he needed to see if Aria’s drum full of survival stuff remained intact and waited for his retrieval. Past that, stick to the task at hand. “Okay, people, let’s get it together and get gone.”
McKenzie handed Jackson a slice of cold pork. “Whatever, but you guys need to give us girls a moment.”
“Alright, but hurry.”
He hated leaving the fires smoldering. The guys stomped most of it out, but no way was he about to put any of their water on them. Hopefully, the perimeters he and Cooper cleared around them would be wide enough to contain them until the embers died. Al assured him that the cleared borders would work fine to achieve their purpose.
For all his annoyance, the kid usually knew what he was talking about. Couldn’t argue with right.
It hadn’t rained in a while—for sure not in the week since he’d taken his siblings away from the apartment. Even though everything always got pretty crispy in summer, the wind wasn’t blowing too strong. Much later than he wanted, everyone finally got packed and ready.
He kept to the side of the King’s Highway until the cover played out right before what had to be the Loop. Seemed he had two choices, go south to where the service road cut back under the highway or go north to where Shady Grove crossed over it. Only thing visible on the loop were the stalled cars, trucks, and big rigs.
Trash littered the areas behind the eighteen wheelers where looters had obviously broken in and stolen the contents.
Nothing moved on the six lane thoroughfare. He searched back and forth several times. No movement at all. He studied the situation for a bit then decided to go south, even though it was the longer way. The idea of going under sounded much safer; there’d be more cover, less exposure. Until he made it to the other side of Dallas, he’d stick to the shadows as much as possible.
He gathered everyone. “Okay, people, we need to work our way south. We’ll cross there.” He pointed to the underpass. “Let’s go one at a time again, and be ready to take cover at the first sign of anyone.”
Using the strewn inoperable vehicles as cover, Jackson worked his way under Loop Twelve. He hurried along, bent at the waist for a lower profile, from car to car. The high-lines crossed on the far south side then swung back north. As soon as the others gathered together on the east side of the highway, Jackson worked his way back to the King’s Highway and followed it for a quarter mile or so east. He pulled out the map. “If I’ve got it right, the golf course should be due north.”
Aria nodded, but didn’t seem right about something.
“What is it?”
“Just thinking about Poppy.” She forced a quick smile and shrugged. “The course was his pride and joy.”
Compassionate McKenzie wrapped her arm around the girl. “I’m so sorry, but he was a Christian, wasn’t he?”
The newest traveler looked at her for a moment as though considering the question, then nodded. “Yes. We went to mass every week at Saint Mary’s.”
“Well, I don’t know much about Catholics, but if he believed in and confessed Jesus and asked Him t
o live in his heart, then you will see him again. If not in this world, then at the resurrection.”
Jackson wanted to say something, but the last thing he needed right then was a noisy religious debate. Experience had taught him that if he kept his mouth shut, she’d not climb up on her soapbox. “Okay, people, let’s go see if it’s Aria’s birthday.”
She laughed for real that time. “Not mine. I’m a summer baby, June twenty-second.”
He smiled. “Okay, it can be my birthday.”
McKenzie sidled up to her and spoke under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s lying. His is February fifteenth.”
Coop grinned his adorable big-front-teeth-smile of that age when permanent teeth have come in but kid’s face size hasn’t caught up. “My birthday’s next! In December! It’s the eleventh!”
Just like Jackson figured, he ran into the course.
The mostly brown fairways contrasted with the well fertilized greens, making them appear all the greener. A little shaggy maybe, but still playable. Not that he was much of a golfer, not like Granddad. Still plenty athletic, the old man had taken him a few times, but Jackson kept trying to use his baseball swing, and his father’s father soon resigned himself to his only grandson being a duffer.
Shame Pawpaw wasn’t into a real sport.
“Looks like your dad did a good job.”
“Thank you, Jackson. He loved working here.”
Letting Aria take the lead to the eighteenth hole, soon enough, she had them to the metal shed. The side man door stood open, hanging all wrong, one hinge broke in two, the other gone. The insides looked ransacked, and his hopes fell. But Aria squeezed between the front barrels of fuel then wiggled and climbed all the way to the back. Right where she said, behind the diesel drums, the special one rested undisturbed.
She pointed to the work bench. “I need a pair of pliers or a flathead screwdriver to get the lid off.”
Cooper shot by Al who looked lost staring at the mess of tools. He searched for just a second then held up a big screwdriver. “Here, catch.”
He tossed it to Jackson who handed it to Aria.
With deft sureness, as though she knew her way around tools, she had the top off the drum. She smiled at him. “Seems it’s all our birthdays.” She pulled out a green army blanket like the one the old man had, then kept handing him stuff. Insulated coats, sealed food packets, water bottles, a first aid kit, ammo, knives, army backpacks, a small tent, and so much more.
He passed it on back to the others who laid everything out on the floor. By the time she emptied the barrel, there was so much, he began to wonder how he was going to carry it all. He took off his backpack and held it out. “Al, you take mine. Aria, you wear McKenzie’s. She and I will take the bigger ones.”
Al didn’t look too keen on the idea, but shrugged. “Yes, sir.”
After a couple of restarts, Jackson got it going on. With not much left to pack away, he noticed Boggs move toward the door. The dog barked once then bolted.
Jackson pulled out the pistol and waved for the others to take cover. He eased to the doorway. Why hadn’t he put more bullets into the revolver? Two men walked from the tee box up the eighteenth fairway. Each had a bag of clubs slung over their shoulders. Boggs raced toward them, but his tail wagged as though the men posed no danger.
Could he know the guys?
Slipping out, Jackson hid behind an oak that guarded the maintenance shed and watched. As the dog neared the golfers, he went to acting like a puppy or something, jumping and twisting all around. Finally, one of the guys put his bag down and held his arms out. Boggs leapt into them.
The guy hugged him then patted his withers before he pushed him down then picked up his clubs and headed toward the green. Boggs ran circles around the guys, his tail beating double time. They neared Jackson’s position.
The closest man looked right at him and smiled. What? How could it be? The old man? Or the dead guy? Maybe even the gentleman at the apartments, but he stood right there grinning like an old best friend. Then as sure as anything, with him standing right there staring at them, they were gone.
Both men vanished into thin air.
Only the dog remained. Boggs sat on his haunches and looked around.
Stepping out from behind the tree, Jackson searched in all directions, walking to where the dog still sat. Two sets of golf clubs lay on the ground.
He knelt beside the dog and hugged him. “You saw him, didn’t you, boy? The old man your master? I’m not going crazy. Am I?”
The dog didn’t answer, but if he had it wouldn’t have surprised Jackson any more, not after what he’d just seen. Maybe that whole morning had been a dream, the Russian helicopter, the loaded drum, and now ghosts or aliens or whatever they were. He didn’t have time for crazy. Four other kids needed him to be sane. But what other explanation was there?
An image of Cooper and McKenzie huddled together somewhere without food and water waiting for whatever evil befell them pulled him upright.
Okay, son of Jonathan Woods Allison, time to put the weirdness behind you. Get your people back on the move.
Boggs walked beside him back to the maintenance shed. Once inside, it pleased him that the kids and all the stuff were well hidden. “Okay, guys, all clear. Y’all can come out now.”
“What was it?” McKenzie stood then stepped from behind a diesel drum.
“Don’t know, exactly, but whatever, it’s gone now.”
Although she eyed him hard, she didn’t give voice to her obvious suspicion that he’d just lied. He hated it that she knew him so well and could read him like that. According to her and his mother, there was never a good enough reason to lie. But sometimes, it seemed appropriate to him not to tell everything he knew—or thought he knew.
Not that he knew anything about what he just saw…or didn’t see.
She tilted her head down a notch staring at him from concerned eyes and mouthed ‘you okay’?
He nodded. “So, have we got everything packed?”
His little brother popped up and held out the tent. “What should we do with this? And shouldn’t I get your old pack and give Al mine?”
Taking the tent, Jackson hefted it. Didn’t weigh that much, but it was bulky. He looked at his brother. “Think you can handle the bigger one?”
With a snort, Cooper glanced at the nerd. “I could carry Al and your pack.”
The know-it-all offered a nervous chuckle. “He may be correct, sir. I’ve never exhibited a proclivity for athletics or been known for my strength.”
“Whatever, no problem. We can try that.” The boys swapped backpacks, and Cooper smiled like he could carry the extra weight just fine. “Anything else?”
No one said anything.
Checking his pack, he found a place to tie on the tent then picked it up. Wow, thirty pounds or more. Well, he’d just have to carry it. Sure didn’t want to leave anything behind. Getting this bunch to his grandparents looked like it would be tough enough. He shouldered his load and looked around one last time.
Not seeing anything worth lugging, he pronounced the end of the detour. “Okay then, let’s get gone.”
“Wait.” Al held his hands out. “I almost forget. We have some triple antibiotic ointment now in the first-aid kit.”
“So?”
“I should put some on Aria’s wound and change her bandages.”
“Sure, but let’s get to it.”
Aria didn’t much like the nerd messing with her, but also knew he was right. Her poppy had seen to it that she always had whatever medicine she needed and insisted she should use it. She slipped off the pack, pushed back the jacket from the drum she’d claimed as her own—not that all of it wasn’t hers—then lifted her shirt.
Al grabbed the edge of the bandage. “Fast or slow?”
She looked at him. “What?”
“Would you prefer I remove the tape swiftly or leisurely?”
“Swiftly, uh, fast.” She looked awa
y. She wished she’d told Jackson that she’d rather he do it, but it was probably better for the nerd to handle it. He seemed to enjoy the doctor role without anything personal getting in the way. She really didn’t want the leader getting the wrong idea, but having him touch her side would be way better than the brainiac fussing over her.
“There, all done.”
She pushed her shirt back down. “Thanks.”
“What’s that?” Al pointed to her chest.
She glanced down. Something white poked out of the little inside chest pocket on her jacket. She pulled it out and unfolded it. With each word she read, her breath came harder. Tears welled and overflowed racing down her cheek.
McKenzie stepped beside her and held Aria’s arm. “What is it?”
CHAPTER NINE
Girls crying gave Jackson the heebee-jeebies. He hated it. Man, they could get weepy over almost anything, too. McKenzie went to boo-hooing over a baby miniature donkey picture one time that she thought was so cute. He eased closer. A part of him wanted to hug Aria and tell her everything would be okay, but he didn’t know that.
Besides, she might take it wrong. Cooper would for sure.
Al leaned, looking at the piece of paper. “What is it? What does it say?”
Sniffing, she swiped at her cheeks. “A note. It’s from Poppy. He says he loves me and for me to be strong for him and my brothers.” She sniffed again, looked at the note, then carefully folded it up and put it back in her jacket’s inside pocket. “I’m sorry. I’m ready now.”
While his sister and little brother fussed over Aria, Jackson waited, albeit anxiously. The minute they finished, he stepped off. “Okay, people, let’s move on.” Cutting straight across the course to the King’s Highway, he followed it for quite a ways, then it split, going in two different directions. Great. Which one was he supposed to follow?
The shade a group of elm trees offered just off the wide green highway afforded a great stopping place after the march he’d had them on. “McKenzie, you still got the old man’s note?”
