by Caryl McAdoo
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.” She leaned down and kissed the little one’s soft cheek. She smelled of baby lotion and powder, and McKenzie breathed in as much as she could hold. “You’re so beautiful, aren’t you? I’ll call you Grace because you’re here with me because of God’s grace.”
The tiny eyes sparkled and she cooed up at McKenzie.
“Thank you, Lord.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jackson jerked awake, totally awake. He scanned the sky. No stars or moon or anything lit the darkness. Clouds must be blocking them from sight. He scooted closer to the smoldering fire and tossed on a few more sticks, shivering from the predawn cold. His ladies huddled together with an arm each over a baby-sized bundle resting between them.
Girls.
The only thing he knew that they were crazier about than boys had to be babies. Well, good thing; he didn’t like the idea of changing diapers. At all.
Al lay a few feet away from McKenzie; good man, keeping his distance. He’d hate having to bust the guy up over taking advantage of his sister, but surely would without hesitation. Cooper and Boggs weren’t anywhere that he could see. He whistled softly. His brother answered then came into view with the dog right on his heels.
Man, that dog alone could almost make a person believe in a benevolent creator watching over them. What were the odds that they’d find him the first morning after leaving their apartment? Wow…that seemed so long ago, but only a day short of two weeks. What about all the evil that had been unleashed in the world that forced him to make such a journey?
No benevolence there that he could ascertain.
Copper stopped next to the fire and warmed his hands. “Sleep good?”
“Yes, I did. Anything going on?”
“Naw. Boggs raced off a couple of times, but didn’t catch anything to eat.”
“Since I’m up now, you want to lie back down?”
Cooper sat down next to him in a criss-cross-applesauce manner. “No, I’m good.” He stared into the fire. “Jackson, did you really see Gracie’s parents get shot?”
He looked away. Would he ever be able to forget those images? “Yeah, Bubba, afraid so. But I wish I hadn’t.”
“And.” He stretched out the ‘n’ until Jackson didn’t know if he was going to come out with it or not. “Are you really hearing voices in your head? ’Cause Al says that’s not a good sign.”
He smiled. “Only heard one; and it was the old man telling me that the baby needed me. Two or three times, in my head…I heard…or thought ‘She needs you,’ but I knew it wasn’t me thinking that. Why would I? Besides, I didn’t even know who she was.”
Coop nodded like he understood, but how could he when Jackson had no clue? “So…you’re not crazy?”
Jackson chuckled. “No, I haven’t gone over the edge.”
“Then what do you think happened? Who do you think made you think that? Do you suppose that God really is watching over us like McKenzie says? Think that old man was really an angel instead of an alien? Think Boggs could be one, too?”
“Well, little brother, I wish I knew. On one hand, the evidence suggests that very thing, but then why—if there is a kind and compassionate God—would he allow so much bad stuff to happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t either, Bubba, but if I figure it out, you’ll be the first one I tell. Come on, let’s get everyone up and going. What do you say?”
McKenzie resisted the urge to join into her brothers’ conversation, especially since she didn’t really have the answer to his question.
Matter of fact, she’d wondered about the exact same thing herself. All that night, while she and Aria fussed with Gracie, getting her something to eat, and finally getting back on the King’s Highway, she searched her memory for a Bible verse that would explain it all, but none came.
Then another thought hit her.
If she could come up with one, then Jackson would know that she’d been eavesdropping on their conversation. Well, that was that. If she did think of one, then she would have to wait until the topic came up again. She for sure didn’t want Jackson to think of her as a snoop, not that she had snuck around or anything.
Gracie leaned back and looked right at her then fussed a little whiny cry. Mercy, she was heavy to carry.
“What is it, sweetie? What do you need?”
The baby sucked on her fist a bit then fussed a little louder.
“So you’re hungry again? Okay then. Wait just a minute.”
She scanned the surroundings. Either side of the King’s Highway provided plenty of cover. She slowed until Jackson walked beside her. “Gracie needs a bottle.”
He looked to both boundaries then whistled at Cooper and pointed north. Her little brother nodded then turned to his left. Soon, she had the baby cuddled in her arms, sucking a bottle and wearing a dry towel diaper. She loved being mama to the sweet little one and would be happy to sit there all day holding her.
Soon as the baby sucked the bottle dry, she turned to her big brother and smiled. “Isn’t she precious? Listen, I’ve got maybe a day’s worth of formula left and only one more clean diaper. I need a place to wash the nasty ones then somewhere to hang them out long enough to dry. And what are we going to feed her after the formula’s gone?”
He looked skyward; the sun would soon break over the horizon. “We’re not far from Meems’ and Pop’s.”
“Really? How close do you think?”
“If I’ve got it figured right, two, maybe three hours.”
“Wow, so we could be there by lunch?” She handed the baby to Al, who took her as though a porcelain doll that would break at any minute if he did anything wrong. She wanted to laugh, but why hurt the guy’s feelings? She stood, swung her backpack on, then leaned over and took Gracie. “Let’s get to it then; time’s a wasting.”
Cooper held his hands up. “Hang on there, sister of mine. What about us? That baby isn’t the only hungry one. We need to eat some breakfast, too. And quoting Pop doesn’t make you the trail boss either.”
Jackson shook his head. Both of his siblings were right.
Sitting there moved them no closer to Honey Grove, but for sure, his little army marched on its belly. “Coop’s right. Let’s grab something to eat before we head back out. Will everyone be okay with moving on without stopping to sleep?”
“I’m fine.” Aria pulled out two MREs. “I’ll get something ready to eat.”
The two army meals and a few pecans were all he would allow, even though Meems’ and Pop’s wasn’t that far anymore. He hated being the food police, but watching everyone going hungry would be way worse. So ready to not be the one in charge, he could hardly wait to get to his grandparents’ place.
And they had to be there, they just had to.
He stood. “Let’s get going, people.” He smiled at McKenzie. “Time’s a wasting.”
She smiled back but it seemed somewhat hollow. He understood exactly.
Genuine mirth levels were practically nil in him, too. Couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. Would he ever be carefree again? Man, he needed to take better control of his thoughts and stop thinking so weird. Five people depended on him; they were his responsibility and his alone.
For sure, he wasn’t a kid anymore, not that he’d been one for a while now. “Thanks, Dad.”
“What’s that?” McKenzie’s eyebrows arched high.
“Nothing.” He grinned at himself for thinking out loud. For sure his father preached manning up, being responsible, always doing the right thing. That was the main reason Jackson didn’t resent him for volunteering to do the tough job overseas, except he sure could use him home.
Operating as his dad’s second or third in command was way better than being the one making all the decisions.
The morning sun felt good on his back and shoulders. After a good hour of cutting through farm fields and light woods, Cooper stopped and looked back. Jackson jogged ahead and joined h
im; a raised highway blocked their path. He pulled out the map. “That has to be Highway Eighty-two.”
The high-lines crossed over the two-lane country thoroughfare.
He stowed the map then eased out and checked both directions. A truck sat a mile or so to the east, and the west looked clear, nothing he could see. “Okay, let’s go. We’re getting real close.”
Waiting until everyone else got to the far side, Jackson checked one more time then dashed up the bank and across the highway. He hurried everyone along until the high-lines cut back into woods then turned toward the east. In no time, he recognized his grandparents’ road. He literally wanted to break loose and run up the dirt county road the last mile or so.
But he didn’t. Had to keep his head.
“Jackson!” From McKenzie’s expression, he’d think she discovered a winning lotto ticket or something. “Isn’t this Meems’ road?”
Coop pointed. “It is! That’s Pop’s pond over there. Look!”
“Yes, be quiet.” He looked at the others. “Stay together.”
Everyone nodded agreement.
He slipped in behind the tree line that guarded the county road and eased toward his grandparents’ house. At the sight of their L-shaped roof, his pulse quickened, then he stepped past a row of cedars. A man he didn’t know carried an armload of stuff out the front door heading toward a two-wheel pull cart. A fire erupted from Jackson’s gut.
What had happened? He backed up a step and handed the rifle to Cooper. “Cover me.”
“What?” McKenzie whispered too loud and the baby stirred. “What do you think you’re going to do?”
Jackson dropped his pack and pulled out the revolver. “Everyone stay here. And keep Gracie quiet.” He turned back. The guy had disappeared into the house. Jackson eased closer, the pistol hanging to his side. A woman emerged with her arms full of stuff. Jackson aimed over her head and fired. “Get out of here.”
He sprinted toward the house.
The lady dropped her booty into the cart. “Zach! Come on!”
Boggs bolted past him bellowing his deepest, meanest sounding bark. The guy ran out the front door. He didn’t look much older than Jackson. He stopped at the bottom step, looked at him for a heartbeat, then picked up the cart’s double handles and pulled. The woman grabbed the back and pushed.
Jackson stopped. He leveled the pistol and double gripped it with his other hand. The sights rested on the fellow’s head. “Stop! That my grandparents’ stuff!” The guy dropped the handles and took off running toward the back woods.
The woman followed with Boggs on her heels barking like he hated her. “Wait! Wait for me, Zach!”
Something in Jackson wanted to shoot. His insides boiled. Had the pair hurt his grandparents? But he couldn’t pull the trigger. They were running away, and he wasn’t a coldblooded killer. He holstered the pistol, whistled the dog back, then turned around. The others huddled together right where he’d left them.
Waving them in, he trudged toward the house, dreading what he might find.
He stopped on the porch. So familiar. Yet so strange. His feet seemed glued in place. He hated going in. Meems’ and Pop’s had always been such a fun place. He turned and held out a hand. “Y’all hang back.”
They definitely weren’t out there greeting him and his weary travelers. He stepped inside and let his eyes adjust from the bright sunlight. Searching the living room, he didn’t see anything too disturbing. Drawers stood open and the old fashioned television lay face down in the floor. He walked through to the kitchen.
Cabinets stood open and mostly empty, but no blood or sign of any struggle. He stepped to each door and checked every room, more relieved with each one, then made his way back to the front.
Holding the screen door open, he nodded at the others waiting in the front yard. “Come on in. They’re not here.”
“There isn’t any food in the cart. Mostly bathroom stuff, and some pillows and blankets. Anything left in there?” McKenzie hefted the wide-eyed baby onto her hip.
“Not much.”
Cooper handed the rifle back. “Want me to look in the barn?”
“We’ll do that together. Al, you and the girls check out the house. See if there’s anything we can use. The cart will come in handy.”
The nerd nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The barn had been rummaged through. Most of Pop’s hand tools were gone, but the tractor and his old farm truck sat exactly where they were the last time Jackson had seen them.
“Where are they?” Coop hung his head. “I was so sure they’d be here.”
Jackson looked to his brother. “Me, too, Bubba, but I don’t have a clue what happened to them.”
“What are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out.” He looked away, wanting to cuss or kick something, but instead, he walked out and looked back toward the south. The high-lines weren’t visible, but he knew where they were. “Let’s go see what the girls found.”
Cooper ran ahead toward the house, but the dog hung back. Jackson scratched his head and the animal looked up. A gloom settled over Jackson like one of Meems’ heavy quilts. He’d done what he said. He’d got everyone there safe, against all the odds, even the three extras. But then what?
He shook his head and stared at the Pyrenees. Bogg’s big black eyes seemed to hold understanding and sympathy. “So how about it, boy? What do you think comes next?”
He plodded toward the house.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jackson, what now?
That question played and replayed in his head as he surveyed the meager bit of stuff Al and the girls had gathered that might be of some use. He picked up a baby spoon from the small pile of goods on the kitchen table. “I remember this one.” He grinned at McKenzie. “You didn’t want anyone using your special spoon but you.”
She shifted the baby then held her hand out palm up. “Still don’t, except Baby Gracie can; I got it for her.” She turned to the smiling baby and spoke in a high goo-goo tone. “Cause you have a itty bitty mouth, don’t you, precious one? Yes, you do, and you can use my wee baby spoon because I love you.”
Jackson shook his head and handed it to her. “Okay, but I think you should talk regular to the child. You don’t want her growing up talking like an idiot, do you?” He waved at the table. “And really, I don’t see much else worth the weight.”
“Well, sir, we deduced that if we utilize the cart, we could carry a bit more; make Gracie a bed on top of the goods.” He scrunched his shoulders. “And…bearing our packs’ weight would become superfluous.”
A no formed, but Jackson didn’t speak it. Maybe he should employ the cart; but was that stealing? Doing exactly what those looters had been doing? Taking stuff that didn’t belong to him even if its thieving owners abandoned it?
“I guess I’ll have to think on that.”
“What’s to think about? You haven’t been taking a turn; Gracie gets really heavy after a while, especially when she’s asleep. She can’t walk.” His sister looked across the table to Aria. “Tell him.”
She nodded. “That’s true, but where are we going anyway? If this is your grandparents’ place; I mean this was where you were coming the whole time. I don’t understand why we just don’t stay here.”
He shook his head. “No, we need to find somewhere better. There’s water here alright, but not much else.”
The back door burst open. Cooper and his big white shadow rushed in. “Jackson!” His little brother was breathless. “Where’s the key?”
“What key? To what?”
“The storm cellar. The door’s locked, and there’s two holes in it. Looks like bullet holes, like someone shot it!” He looked at McKenzie. “Or maybe the aliens made ’em with their eyes.”
“Pop never locked the cellar door.” Realization hit Jackson. His stomach rolled, and his heart flipped.
His grandparents…they were in the cellar, rotting like that other ol
d couple. Glancing at McKenzie, he figured she thought the same thing from her sour, sad expression. He searched his memory. The key. The key. Where would it be?
As much as he hated the notion, but if it turned out to be the truth, they deserved a decent burial. He owed them that and so much more. Man, he hated being in charge. Hated having to always man up; do whatever had to be done. “Fan out, people; we need to find that key.”
For too long, Jackson searched for it, but like the needle in that pesky haystack, it eluded him. While he looked though, another thought struck him. What if Pop had the key with him? What if he didn’t want anyone to get in there and find them? No, Jackson needed to know for sure. He’d take an axe to the door if that’s what it took.
His grandparents deserved to be laid to rest properly, and the family cemetery wasn’t that far. He’d be glad to have the cart after all, at least put it to use for a while. He hated funerals. He’d been to so many services there over the years, too. Mostly old aunts and uncles he barely knew. And one cousin who died still in his teens when the car he was working on fell on him.
That was the worst one.
It might take a couple of days, but he would dig their graves good and deep. And have McKenzie read some scripture and say a prayer or something. He shook his head. Shame he couldn’t enlist anyone closer to a chaplain than his thirteen-year-old sister. Hey, make the best of a situation and use what he had; that’s what he had to do.
The best he could. No one expected more.
Searching the house a while longer, he soon ran out of places to look. Seemed to him the time had come to find that axe and get to chopping. As he walked to the barn, he tried to remember if he’d noticed an axe. Didn’t recall seeing one at all; only mind photos he could conjure showed empty table tops and wall pegs where Pop’s tools should have been.
All those cool old hand tools pillaged by the likes of that couple he’d come up on earlier.
He stepped inside and let his eyes adjust; then it hit him. The truck! Pop kept an extra set of keys in a little box with a magnet that he stuck under the front fender. He kneeled beside the tire and felt up under the metal’s edge. There it was. He pried it off then slid the box open. Instead of a set of keys inside, he discovered a folded piece of paper.
