Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  Slowing as they passed the SUV, Macy could see the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Though the girls could not see the face, they both knew what had happened; and now reality was settling in.

  “I hope Dad’s okay,” Macy said, never having thought of the possibility that he, too, could have become a victim of the virus.

  Driving through the intersection that led to the highway entrance ramp, the girls noticed several cars in the way. As Marcy snaked their car through, it scraped a Suburban; the horrible screeching continued as the Grand Am forced itself through the space between the other car and the guardrail.

  Marcy continued to wind her way, having somewhat gotten the hang of this driving thing by now and squeezing between parked cars. Macy sat high in her seat to help navigate ahead until the cars became so crowded that there was no longer much space between them.

  Marcy, unsure of the next direction to take, killed the engine. After scouting around the area for dogs, Macy rolled down her window. She pulled herself through the narrow opening to stand on the windowsill, gaining a better view of what lay ahead. With wide eyes she returned to the passenger seat and rolled up her window.

  “What? What’s out there?” asked Marcy.

  “The road’s blocked, we can’t get through this way. We’re stuck, Marcy. We’ll have to walk from here.”

  “No! What about the dogs?” Marcy asked. How could Macy have forgotten them so quickly?

  “That’s what I’m saying. We can’t stay in the car. There are big concrete barriers up ahead with police cars on the other side with their lights on. We’re not going to make it this way,” Macy said.

  Sitting in silence, both girls tried to solve the dilemma, knowing they did not want to leave the safety of the car.

  “I think we should take our stuff, leave the car here, and walk to the barricade. Climb over and see if there is a car on the other side that we can take. The road is clear over there,” Macy said.

  Marcy’s jaw dropped. “We can’t steal a car. Are you crazy? You can go to jail for that. The police are over there. Maybe they can take us the rest of the way.”

  “Marce, things are different now. Look around you. We’ll leave a note or something to let the owner know that we’re borrowing it. This is an emergency and, like you said, we have to make new rules now. They’ll understand. They’re probably dead by now anyway. In fact, we haven’t seen anyone alive since that guy ran from the dogs last night, remember? It’ll be okay. Dad can explain it to them if the police come. Or if someone’s alive in the car, we’ll ask them to take us to Dad’s, okay?”

  Pausing in the silence to give it a little more thought, Marcy conceded. “Well, I can’t think of anything else better, so let’s get started. The sooner we get to Dad’s, the better.”

  As the twins gathered their belongings, Marcy said, “We need something to fight with in case those dogs come at us again.”

  Looking around in the car for potential weapons, they came up with an ice scraper on the floor by the backseat and Macy’s metal ruler. She’d been looking for it a while back; it must have dropped out of her backpack.

  Then Macy lowered her window once again and scouted out the easiest path of escape through the cramped cars ahead. She saw a few places they’d likely have to climb over bumpers while they wound their way to the concrete barrier.

  Climbing back into the car, she said, “Okay, it should not be too hard. Just follow me and we’ll run as fast as we can. Stay close and don’t make any noise. We don’t want to attract the dogs’ attention.” She added a second thought. “You need to come out my side since you don’t have any room over there. Don’t slam the door, just push it in softly.”

  “Okay, that sounds like a good plan. How far is it?” Marcy asked, scared.

  Macy had thought about this before she jumped back into the car. “From our front door to Mr. Sanchez’s house,” she said. Explaining the distance in this way was an old habit, one that Marcy would accept, and thus she would not be too afraid. Macy thought the distance was actually more like from their front door to the Christensons’ house, which was quite a bit farther, but she did not want Marcy to know that or she might opt to stay in the car indefinitely.

  Looking again to make sure there were no predators present, Macy opened her door and Marcy scooted over the center aisle controls to exit on that side. The area between their car and the one to their right was just barely enough for their petite frames to pass through. Marcy closed the door with just a click.

  Macy led them in a crouch as they scurried along, armed with only the metal ruler and plastic ice scraper. With overnight bags flung over their shoulders, they made their way through the tiny passages left open between cars. They leaped up and over the hood of an Escort that had rammed against a 4Runner. Checking behind them for any threat, they stopped occasionally to listen carefully before resuming their escape to the concrete barrier.

  Finally, when it was within sight, Marcy pulled Macy’s sleeve. “I thought you said to Mr. Sanchez’s,” she protested breathlessly, “but this is way farther!”

  “Come on, Marcy. It’s not much longer—look!”

  They were squatting behind the rear bumper of a dirty white Impala. Standing up slightly to get a better view, they were shocked to see several dead bodies. They looked like they’d been struck down in an attempt to confront whatever officers might lay beyond. There were dark blood smears where animals must have fed on them. Their scattered remains were all over the roadway.

  “Oh God,” Marcy said, and covered her mouth before she bent to heave.

  Macy just stared beyond the carnage, forcing herself to plan a route. Patting Marcy on the shoulder she said, “I know it’s bad, but look over this way. We can make our way over to the edge where there’s a crack between the barrier and the railing. We can push back the barbed wire above it. I think we can squeeze through there to the other side.”

  Marcy began to sob in fearful desperation. “It really smells bad, and there are all these bodies. Let’s get out of here before the dogs come back.”

  Macy realized this could be the beginning of one of Marcy’s famous breakdowns and pulled her behind her at a crouch. “Come on, Marcy. We have to get through here,” she said.

  Macy knew she and her twin were always on the too-thin side, something they had often been teased about. But now this enabled a hasty escape, squeezing in between and under the coiled barbed wire traversing the top of the barrier. Holding their bags out to her side, Macy went through first. She pulled her bag through and then reached for Marcy’s. She looked around at the scene before her on the police’s side. After Marcy had come through, they both stayed hunkered in their corner before coming up with the next plan of action.

  At least the bodies were behind them now, though the twins could still smell their stench. Before them were four police cars, arrowed inward on each side, with blue strobe lights working on one of them.

  Waiting and listening, they remained in their spot to assess the situation. Finally, Macy said, “I don’t think there’s anyone here. We should go over there to the last car on our side and see if we can find the keys. Then we can back it up and take off from there.”

  “You can’t steal a police car, Macy.”

  Ignoring her sister, Macy took off, scurrying to the end of the first car. Rather than be left behind, Marcy quickly followed.

  Seeing no live souls nor roaming dogs in the vicinity, the twins inched their way past the first car. They squatted down next to the one beyond it on the passenger side. Then, they slowly stood and noticed a decaying form, lying back on the reclined driver’s seat; Macy declared this guy “way dead.” With the driver’s door left open he looked like he must have passed right there, on duty, days before.

  Macy bent low and around the back of the car, where they came abruptly face to face with a panting German shepherd who scared the hell out of them both. Panicked, Macy jumped backward into Marcy, causing the two of them to scream out and
land in a heap.

  The dog had spotted them long before they’d crossed the barrier. He had not seen humans without the smell of sickness in a long time, so he had come over to check them out, leaving his guard post.

  To Macy’s astonishment, the dog simply sat there, head cocked to one side, regarding them as if they were an oddity. Then, he stood slowly and padded over to them, sniffing them, but without seeming to threaten in any way. Still, Macy remembered the weapon in her right hand and thrust her ruler out at the dog. He sat again on his haunches, panting and tilting his head.

  “Get back!” Macy yelled.

  Looking confused, the dog lowered his head down to the pavement, as if to show he meant no harm. Then he huffed and lay still, though he never took his gaze from them.

  “Stay!” Macy yelled. She’d heard other people order their dogs to do that and, to her surprise, the dog stayed. She pushed herself up and off her sister as she stood. Her ruler shook with the adrenaline rush.

  The dog rolled over to his side.

  Totally bewildered by this reaction, Macy reached behind her to help Marcy up to her feet.

  “I think it’s okay, Marcy,” she said, “He’s not trying to eat us.”

  “Don’t trust him, Macy. He could just be playing and then turn on us,” Marcy warned.

  As if she just remembered her ice scraper, she looked around where they’d fallen to find it. Seeing it several feet away, she watched the dog cautiously while she reached for it. He did not move a muscle, only watched her movements with his eyes.

  Macy, seeing this, decided to take a chance and reached over with her left hand to let him smell her. Her dad taught her to do it this way when approaching animals she didn’t know.

  “Don’t do it, Mace,” said Marcy.

  The German shepherd merely studied her hand. He sniffed her, and then licked her. Macy began to pet his head and found that he had a black collar around his neck with a sheriff’s badge hanging down to his chest.

  “Look, he’s a police dog,” she said, holding up the badge for Marcy to see, then continued to pet the dog.

  “Maybe that’s why he has not turned mean,” Marcy answered.

  Macy noticed he had bite marks on his haunches, and as she ran her hand over chest, his ribs stood out. “No wonder he’s panting a lot, he’s thirsty. Let’s see if we can find him some water.”

  “Come on, Sheriff, do you have water in the car?” she asked him as she got up. He rose from the pavement, trotted over to the open door of the car, and whined a little before the dead officer.

  “Oh, sorry, Sheriff, is he your owner?” Macy asked.

  The dog just sat down on his haunches. “He wants us to help him,” Marcy said.

  “Oh, so sorry, Sheriff, he’s gone. We can’t help him now,” said Macy. She looked into the backseat window and noticed a gray blanket on the seat. Slowly reaching in, she pulled it out, unfolded it and showed Sheriff as she draped the blanket over the decomposing body of his former owner. Then Sheriff lay down on the pavement in front of the doorway and rested his head on his paws again. Macy stroked his fur; she knew his sadness and felt sorry for him.

  Turning to Marcy, she said, “I think we should try to see if that car is available instead. If not, we’ll have to move this guy, and I don’t think Sheriff would like that very much. What do you think?”

  Macy nodded. It was stupid to take the chance of aggravating the dog. They walked over to the other car across the road. There were no occupants, alive or otherwise, and the keys were on the passenger seat. Macy offered the keys to Marcy, who said, “Your turn. You’ll find out it’s not so easy.”

  By this time the sun was going down. “It’s going to be dark soon,” Marcy said, “so we really need to hurry up.”

  They opened the doors and the trunk to see if there was any water. Luckily, in the trunk they discovered a half carton of bottled water. Macy took two bottles out and walked over to the dog, opening one of them and offered Sheriff water in the palm of her hand. It tickled her terribly as his rough tongue slurped the water down easily. She repeated this process many times, pouring water into her hand, until Sheriff had drank the contents of both bottles.

  Macy walked back to the opened car to close it up, but Sheriff jumped into the backseat, surprising both of them. “Um, he wants to go with us?” Marcy asked.

  “Well, it’s up to him I guess. I’m not going to tell a police dog what he can and cannot do, are you?”

  Shutting the trunk and doors and seeing no protest from Sheriff, Macy started the ignition. Having had the benefit of watching her twin, she smoothly guided the car into reverse. She then applied the brakes carefully and stopped to adjust the seat to the closest position possible so that she would not compromise her vision. She began again and swung the car around, heading toward Issaquah. Now that the road was wide open, they should be there in no time.

  8 The Madman

  Horacio Campos had just finished pounding the last sign into the persistently damp earth surrounding his domain. It read no trespassing in big letters above violators will be shot, followed by see mayor campos for supplies.

  Now that he’d posted it, everyone would know he owned this town, complete with all the homes and buildings, including their contents. No excuses would be accepted from any trespassers who ignored the rules and failed to pay the toll he established. “No more free rides, like those two bozos who thought they could just walk right through here without paying a fee,” he grumbled aloud. There’d been rules even before he’d posted the signs. There must always be rules.

  Just because most folks were dead didn’t mean the few that lived could run off with everything else. After all, he kept the wild animals out—including the wild dog packs. He also kept the electricity on and the water running. If they paid, he’d even sell them gasoline. He had homes ready, complete with cars for those few he thought would be good citizens. They just had to pay in either work or trade. If they wanted supplies or a way through his town, they needed to prove they could pay.

  Campos, having grown up here, where his father was the town’s electrician, knew that people often took advantage if you let them. He didn’t let them. Before Daddy’s time, Granddaddy owned this land, including a gas station where he worked.

  The government stole it from their family after Granddaddy refused their first offer. Back in the 1970s they claimed the tract of land, which they held was required for “urban renewal” or some such nonsense. What really happened—after they offered only half of the land value and Granddaddy refused—was that they stole it through eminent domain. That caused Granddaddy to get so upset, after spending his entire life farming here, that he up and died of a heart attack from the stress of it all. That had left Daddy fatherless at the age of fifteen.

  With bitter resentment, Daddy had told of holding Granddaddy, dying in his arms, and watching Grandmama cry her eyes out. But not for long; soon after, she went whoring around, leaving her son, Campos’s father, alone to fend for himself. Campos remembered Daddy swearing that he’d get the land back someday.

  Daddy had gone into the navy. He learned to become an electrician and then came back to his childhood home. He resented providing service for those men who had once worked for his own daddy on the dairy farm. So when this virus struck and everyone began dying off, including his own father, Campos decided the time had come for payback. This land belonged to his family once again, and he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away. If only he’d survived the virus to see what his son had done for him, Daddy would be so proud of him. He wouldn’t get mad at him anymore.

  Night and day Campos cleaned the place up. It took several days to round up all the dead bodies and burn them. He also killed family pets to keep them from becoming feral like the rest; he burned them right along with their owners. Since he owned this place now, he wanted it to look nice. He wanted it to look like it was back in the old days, just as his daddy remembered it.

  From sunup to sundown he worked t
o put things back in order. He’d even gone through all the homes and stripped the beds, washing sheets and blankets, vacuuming mattresses and flipping them before making them up again. In the same manner, he went from room to room tossing belongings, cleaning and renewing each home so they could accommodate new citizens once he approved of them.

  His daddy hadn’t been one for charity, so Campos wasn’t either—especially not for those last two who’d roamed into town. He offered them work, but he wouldn’t put up with lazy asses. He knew his daddy would not approve of them.

  One thing was troubling Campos since the virus had struck and the groceries had begun to run out: so too had his medicine. He broke into the pharmacy lockup, but couldn’t find any Trilafon—the name on his bottle. The good thing about not having the meds meant that his face didn’t twitch so much. So maybe he didn’t need them after all.

  But when things were real quiet and he wasn’t so busy, he could hear the voices of those coming for him again. That’s why he kept really busy all the time, from morning to night; mowing the lawns, cleaning the houses, power-washing dried blood off the sidewalks: the endless work meant he could keep the voices away.

  His daddy would be real mad that he wasn’t taking his medicine, but if he could see how nice the town was now he might not mind. Just in case Daddy was keeping an eye on him from the beyond, Campos stayed busy as hell. He really hoped Daddy wasn’t one of the voices; that thought scared the hell out of him, more than anything else. “Please, no,” he whimpered, because even the very idea made him shake. I’ll have to search some more to find them pills, he thought. He’d checked all the houses already because surely someone else took the same drugs.

  He’d have to check out the apartment building across the way. He hadn’t made his way over there yet, and contemplated burning the whole thing down to the ground because of what had happened there once.