No Direction Home (Book 1): No Direction Home

by Mike Sheridan

  A pucker of a smile played on her lips, like she was amused by all the commotion the three had caused. Despite being surrounded by Eddy and three other armed men, none of them looked in the least bit scared.

  Cody spotted Chris hurrying over from the lake. “Who the hell let these people in?” he said angrily when he reached the lodge. “No one is allowed past the roadblock without my permission.” He spotted their weapons. “And why do they still have their guns?”

  “They refused to hand them over,” Eddy told him, looking embarrassed. “They didn’t come past the roadblock. Mark caught them riding past his guard post. They must have sneaked in through the forest.”

  Mark nodded vigorously, delighted to be involved in the unfolding drama. Along with James, he seemed to spend most of his time on guard duty, though neither man appeared to mind.

  “Hey, we didn’t sneak nowhere!” the bucktoothed intruder protested.

  “Absolutely not,” the woman said calmly. “Or we wouldn’t have stopped right away when your men asked us to.”

  “Even though their damn whistles practically deafened us,” Scarface said sourly, reaching a hand up to his ear and rubbing it.

  Puffing out his chest, Chris strode up to him. Barely coming up to his shoulder, Cody couldn’t help but think how comical it looked. If he chose to, Scarface could have swatted him away like a fly.

  “Who the hell are you? You’ve no right to be here. And why would you ride up through the forest unless you were trying to sneak in?”

  Scarface’s lip curled up into a sneer. Before he could reply, the woman pointed to the smaller man. “Because Clete here is from these parts,” she explained. “He brought us through the forest from Devil’s Point.”

  Clete nodded proudly. “Sure did. I know this area like the back of my hand. Been hunting and fishing around here my whole damned life.”

  “Really? Where is your camp?” Chris asked.

  “Nowhere yet. We just drove up from Atlanta this morning.”

  Chris glanced at the two motorbikes. “You three came all the way from Atlanta with no gear?” he said suspiciously. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “We drove up in pickups,” Clete explained. “Parked them down at the Point, then rode up here on our bikes. We were planning on making the lodge our new home.”

  There was a frown on Chris’s face as he digested all this. “I guess I’ll just have to take that on face value. But as you can see, this is our home. You’ll need to move on and find somewhere else.”

  “Plenty of other places for us to go, mister” Scarface growled. He threw a leg over the side of his Harley, then indicated for the woman to get on behind him.

  By this stage, practically the entire camp had crowded around the three strangers. Scarface waved a hand dismissively at them. “Make some space and we’ll be on our way. No need to chase us out like common criminals.”

  “Common criminals!” Clete said with a wheezy laugh, mounting his machine. “That’s funny, Ralph.”

  Walter stepped out in front of the motorcycles. “Now wait a minute,” he said, looking around at the group. “Is it just me, or are we being darned unfriendly? Three people on their own are going to run into trouble real fast around here, particularly seeing as one of them is a woman. Is there any reason why they can’t stay a few days until they get their bearings?”

  “Because I just ordered them off my land,” Chris said, glowering at Walter. “That’s why.”

  “This land belongs to the group, not you,” Walter corrected him. “Remember?”

  “Of which I am the leader,” Chris snapped back. “So I get to make the decision.”

  Greta, whose tall, angular figure stood near the back of the group spoke up. “Walter is right, Chris,” she said in her customary sharp tone. “For heaven’s sake, show our fellow survivors some hospitality. We wouldn’t even be here ourselves if the Benton group hadn’t shown us some kindness and let us through.”

  “Only because they need Walter’s skills,” Chris retorted. “They were about to turn us away otherwise.”

  “Well now, I’m sure we can use Clete’s skills,” Walter said, throwing him a wink. “I’m betting he knows all the best fishing spots around here.”

  “Hell yes!” Clete exclaimed. “In fact, I know a great little trout stream real close by. I’d be happy to show you it.”

  “And hunting,” Cody chimed in. “I’d like his opinion on that too.”

  Clete glanced over at him. From the look on his face, Cody could tell he was relishing all the attention he was getting. “Happy to do that, son. Nothing I like better than to talk about hunting. Best done over a glass of whiskey, of course,” he added with a roguish grin.

  “That can be arranged,” Cody said grinning back. Despite his rough appearance, there was something immediately likable about Clete, and while Ralph looked downright scary, it appeared his girlfriend had some control over him.

  “Chris,” Walter said reasonably, “I’m in favor of making friends, not enemies, whenever I can. No reason why we can’t all be good neighbors. So how about a little mutual cooperation here?”

  Out-argued by three of his own group, Chris relented. He didn’t look happy about it, though. “All right,” he said gruffly. “They can stay a couple of days until they find somewhere suitable.”

  From the look on Ralph’s face, it appeared he was about to turn down Chris’s ungracious offer. Sitting behind him on the Harley, the girl spoke up before he could. “Thank you, we appreciate that. I, for one, look forward to getting to know you all.”

  Chris’s demeanor softened. “You better bring your pickups here right away, before somebody steals them. I’ll radio down to the guards at the roadblock to let you through.” With a curt nod, he headed back toward the lake.

  ***

  A short time later, Walter, Pete, and Cody sat three-in-a-row on camping stools outside Pete’s trailer. Before the strangers left to fetch their vehicles, Walter had briefly introduced himself and suggested they bring their trailers over to the west side of the camp where there was plenty of room.

  “I’m surprised you’re in favor of allowing those three to stay here. They’re pretty rough-looking,” Pete said to Walter, staring at him curiously. “The men, I’m talking about. That Maya can stay as long as she likes. She’s a real looker.”

  Walter chuckled. “If ever I saw a couple that resembled Beauty and the Beast, that’s them right there. But like I said, no point in making enemies for no good reason.”

  Pete continued to stare at him. “That it? I think you’re holding out on me, partner.”

  Walter grinned. “You’re getting to know me too well. Seeing as we’re about to leave, I thought I might fuck with Chris a little. Couldn’t help myself. Anyway, some fresh people around here might wake the others up. So far, most of them are walking around like hypnotized chickens. Except for Greta, that is.”

  Pete laughed. “It’d take a lot to hypnotize Ralph. For a start, Chris would need to stand up on a stool.”

  ***

  Down at the lake, Ralph leaned against the side of his pickup, smoking a cigarette and staring out across the water. The trio had just returned to Devil’s Point, this time riding down the lodge’s main driveway, then turning south onto the Cookson Creek Road where, at the roadblock – the one they’d been completely unaware of – they’d been waved through by two armed men.

  They had ridden up from Atlanta that morning in their F-150 pickups. The drive had been uneventful. Reaching the town of Ocoee, Clete guided them along the back roads to Devil’s Point, where he’d suggested that they ride their Harleys through the forest up to the lodge.

  Ralph took another drag of his cigarette before speaking. “That Chris is a real asshole. I’d be happy to blow him off, but we’ll be safer at the lodge until we figure this out. Best not to take any chances.” After the incident in the Hilton the previous evening, he had no intention of being that sloppy again.

  “Absolutel
y,” Maya agreed. “Other than Chris, the rest of them seem all right. Beats me why they elected him as their leader.”

  “Maybe he elected himself. Seems the type.” Ralph flicked his cigarette into the lake. “All right, we stay a couple of days until we get the lay of the land. Clete, you need to figure out this boonie shit real fast,” he growled.

  Maya smiled at Clete. “Us city slickers are counting on you, Mr. Hillbilly. Don’t let us down.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Two hundred and eighty miles out of Orlando, the Nissan Frontier cruised at seventy miles an hour up Interstate 95. Jacksonville was in the rear mirror, with Savannah the next major city the Irish couple would pass. Jonah had been solid at the wheel for nearly four hours straight, anxious for them to leave the south as soon as they could. He couldn’t wait to reach a more bearable climate.

  He stared at the fuel gauge. “Colleen, we’re running low on juice,” he told her. “We’ll need to pull off the freeway soon and drain more gas. Can’t wait to roll under another car and splash petrol all over me face again.”

  Colleen grinned. “Smells better than your aftershave.” She consulted the map. “We’re coming up to a town called Richmond Hill. We can exit there.”

  “All right, let’s see if we can find another Chevy pickup. Stick to what we know, eh?” The vehicle Jonah had previously drained had been a Chevy Silverado. There was more space to work underneath a pickup than a sedan, making the task easier.

  Ten minutes later, they pulled off I-95 at exit 87, taking the off ramp down to the T-junction of a large highway. Turning right, they passed a Motel 6 on one side of the road, a Travelodge directly opposite it. Next came a Domino’s Pizza joint, followed by a Waffle House, then a Denny’s, and a Smoking Pig.

  “Smoking Pig?” Jonah chuckled. “Didn’t see them in Orlando. Ah well, missed me chance now.”

  “Focus on the job at hand,” Colleen scolded him. “We’re here to collect fuel.”

  Ahead on the far side of the highway was a Food Lion supermarket. Jonah spotted movement in the parking lot. “Hey, there’s people over there, look!”

  He pointed across the road, straining his neck to get a better view to where a group of men stood by a red pickup. They stared back at the Nissan as it drove by.

  “Keep going,” Colleen said in a tight voice. “I don’t like the look of them.”

  At that moment, a woman darted into view from behind the men. She ran across the lot and headed toward the grass embankment that bordered the highway. She had long brown hair and wore a T-shirt and jeans. As Jonah drove past, she waved a hand desperately at him, a pleading look on her face.

  Two of the men had sprinted after her. One caught up with her as she ran between two trees and out onto the road. Seizing her roughly by the hair, he dragged her up the grass incline again and back into the parking lot.

  “Oh my God!” Colleen exclaimed. “That poor woman. Jonah, what are we going to do?”

  Jonah put his foot down on the pedal, and the Nissan immediately picked up speed. “We’re minding our own business, that’s what. There’s at least five of them. We got to put ourselves first.”

  “Really?” Colleen asked uncertainly.

  “Yeah, really.”

  The pickup sped down the highway at ninety miles an hour. Half a mile farther was a junction with a turnoff for an Argos store on their right. Jonah slowed down, pulled into the entranceway, and came to a screeching halt. “Or at least, that’s what we want them to think.”

  “So we’re going back?”

  Jonah faced Colleen, a grim look of determination etched on his features. “Look, love, remember the geezer who saved our lives the other day when we were out shopping?”

  Colleen nodded.

  “We’re going to do the same. I couldn’t live with meself otherwise.”

  Colleen buzzed down her window. “Me neither.” She grabbed her M-15 and stuck the barrel out the window. “Come on. We need to be quick about this.”

  Jonah backed out onto the freeway, crossing the junction and onto the far side of the road. He threw the vehicle into drive and headed back toward the Food Lion.

  “All right, here’s the plan. Soon as we get to the car park, you start shooting with all you got. I’ll head straight for those bastards and mow down as many as I can, all right?”

  Colleen looked at him nervously. “All right, but the entrance to the supermarket is on the far side of the lot. They’re going to get plenty of warning we’re coming.”

  “Don’t worry. I got that covered.”

  The Nissan zoomed down a dip in the road. Coming up the far side, Jonah steered around a long bend to see the supermarket come into view on their right. He got as far over on the left hand side of the highway as he could, then increased his speed.

  When they reached the embankment bordering the supermarket lot, he swerved across the road and headed for it, trying to get as straight an angle as he possibly could. The wheels clattered over the low curb and raced up the side of the incline. Moments later, the Nissan sailed over the top, all four wheels in the air.

  “Jonaaah!” Colleen screeched.

  “Jaysuuus!” Jonah screamed.

  With a jolt, the front wheels hit the concrete, followed a moment later by the back wheels.

  Jonah tugged hard at the wheel, trying desperately to control the vehicle. Miraculously, he weaved it safely through a group of abandoned cars.

  Straight ahead was the red pickup where the group of men stood. Seeing him approach, they scattered in all directions across the lot. Some already had their pistols out and began firing.

  “Shoot the fuckers!” Jonah yelled.

  Colleen opened fire, repeatedly pulling the trigger to release a stream of bullets at the men. One on Jonah’s right fell to the ground, while two others ducked around the back of a group of cars.

  To his left, he spotted the woman. She was being dragged by the hair by one of the men, heading toward a motorbike parked in the middle of the lot. In his other hand, the man held a pistol.

  There were no other vehicles nearby, and he had to break cover to reach the motorbike. As soon as he did, Jonah picked up speed. The man jerked his head back to see the Nissan bearing down on him. He stopped running and faced the pickup, leveling his pistol.

  Taking advantage of the situation, the woman managed to break free. She stumbled to the ground, got quickly up again, and started running.

  “Swing left!” Colleen cried out.

  Jonah turned the wheel at a hard angle so the Nissan was broadside with the man, giving Colleen the perfect angle to fire. The M-15 spewed out a hail of bullets, several of them catching the man across his waist.

  “Nice!” Jonah yelled gleefully as the man buckled, dropping to the ground.

  Spinning the wheel to his right now, he drove after the fleeing woman, who was still running in the direction of the parking lot entrance. He tooted hard on the horn several times.

  “Stop!” he shouted out the window.

  The woman whirled around to see the stricken man on the ground and stopped running. Colleen reached a hand back and flung open the back passenger door as Jonah screeched to a halt beside the woman.

  “Get in!” Colleen shouted.

  The woman threw herself inside. Jonah put his foot down again and raced up to the exit. He yanked the wheel hard and turned left onto the street.

  The highway junction was fifty yards away. Reaching it, he pulled onto the freeway and headed in the direction of the off-ramp they’d driven down less than ten minutes ago.

  Colleen shoved her head out the window to see if any of the gang were giving chase.

  “They coming after us?” Jonah asked anxiously.

  Colleen shook her head. “I don’t see them.”

  Jonah glanced quickly back at their new passenger. “You all right, missus?”

  The woman nodded her head. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, still panting from her exertions. “I don’t know what to say…I…I can
’t believe you did that.”

  In the mirror, Jonah grinned at her. “No problem. This is what we do.” He glanced at Colleen. “Right, love?”

  Colleen pulled her head away from the window to stare back at him. “This is what we do? Jonah, I think that’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  Jonah shrugged. “It’s the new me, baby. Start getting used to it.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Monica Jeffreys was a thirty-eight-year-old housewife who had lived in Richmond Hill for over fifteen years. Part of the overall Savannah Metropolitan Area, Richmond had been a quiet town prior to the pandemic. Her husband Charles, a local businessman, owned a deli and a pizza parlor at Parker Square, the town’s main mall. Though she’d helped part-time with the business doing the bookkeeping and ordering supplies, Monica spent most of her time looking after their two young children, aged seven and nine. All that had changed five days ago when Charles, Jason, and Sophie all died.

  There was no hospital in Richmond, the nearest one being St. Joseph’s in Savannah, fifteen miles away. Monica had driven there straightaway when Sophie had first gotten sick, only to be politely but firmly turned away. By that evening, both Charles and Jason had come down with vPox symptoms. Three days later, she’d spent the entire day digging three graves in her back garden.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. These are terrible times,” Jonah said quietly, keeping the Nissan at a steady seventy, passing parched summer fields to either side of the highway in terrain as flat as a pancake.

  They were back on I-95. Earlier, Monica had guided them through Richmond’s back streets to neighboring Georgetown, where they’d pulled up behind a Mitsubishi Pajero and refilled the gas tank to the halfway setting.

  Draining the Pajero had been easy. Just like on the Silverado, under the rear of the truck Jonah had found the tank’s drain cock, and with a flathead screwdriver had pried the plug half out. Splashing his face and clothes, he’d slid a plastic pan underneath to catch the petrol, and after several goes, had filled up two gas cans. Perhaps Dr. Arthur Bradley wasn’t such a bad geezer after all.