“Owen, that was amazing,” Jodi said. “Let’s keep going. Get us out of here.”
He nodded, now grinning from ear to ear, and put the truck in first, heading back the way they’d come.
“The kid should’ve been a stunt driver in Hollywood,” Mike said. “If the whole world hadn’t come crashing down, he could’ve had a great career.”
“If they’re still making movies in the future, I’ll think about it,” Owen said. Despite his boast, Jodi saw his hands visibly trembling against the steering wheel. “It would’ve been fun if guys hadn’t been pointing guns at us.”
“For now, let’s just worry about getting home,” Jodi said. “There was a small town a few miles back this way. Let’s find a place to hide for a while, in case those guys decide to follow us.”
“You think they will, Mom?”
“I can’t imagine they’ll want us warning others about their roadblock,” she said. “Anyway, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“What if we set up a trap of our own?” Mike said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what if we put a spike strip on the road—we could make it out of nails or rocks or something—so we can ambush them from the grass and take them all out one by one? Let’s turn it around on these guys.”
“You think any of us are up to that?” she asked.
Mike shrugged. “Probably not, but it would be pretty cool to get the drop on them. Ambush the ambushers, take them out before they even know what hit them. That would be so satisfying. I’m tired of all these criminal weirdos threatening us. Aren’t you?”
“I am,” she replied, “but we’re going to play it safe. We’ll find somewhere to hide and give them plenty of time to either pass by or give up the chase.”
They doubled back to the previous small town, which was little more than a collection of buildings at a single intersection with a flashing yellow light. The only business in town appeared to be a small bar in a rickety old building with wood siding. It wasn’t open at the moment. The Budweiser sign on the front window was dark, and the parking lot was empty. Nevertheless, Mike pointed at it.
“Pull in here, Owen,” he said. “If we park around back, we won’t be visible from the road.”
Owen was going a little too fast and almost missed the turn-in, their back tire dipping into the ditch. He gunned the engine to keep from getting stuck, then cut an angle across the parking lot toward the end of the narrow building. They found an old, battered dumpster at the back of the building, and Owen pulled the truck around behind it. This hid them from both streets, as well as the intersection. He killed the engine.
“It’s a good place to hide,” Mike said, “but we can’t see if anyone’s coming. We’re hidden, and they’re hidden. How will we know if they pass by?”
“With the windows down, we should be able to hear them if they come through town,” Jodi said.
She leaned her head out the open window. At the moment, she heard only the warm late-spring wind, which seemed to swirl around the dumpster, kicking up all kinds of bad smells. There had been one too many scary encounters in the last few days. Jodi could feel something breaking inside her, and when it finally broke, what would happen then? Would she lose her mind? Would she lose her last hold on decency? She wasn’t sure, but it was all becoming too much. She had always been a rational person, but this was no world for rational people. This world belonged to lunatics and outlaws.
From time to time, she thought she heard traffic passing through the small town, but no one seemed in a hurry, and she was pretty sure they were all headed in the other direction. She heard trucks, motorcycles, cars, and other vehicles she couldn’t identify. What would happen when they encountered the roadblock? Maybe all the cars lined up across the road had belonged to people the thieves had stopped and robbed. Maybe they had a pile of bodies somewhere nearby. Troubling thoughts that intensified Jodi’s sense of instability.
“How long do we wait here?” Owen asked. “We might sit for hours and never know if those men are gone.”
“It’s only been maybe ten or fifteen minutes,” Jodi said. “We can wait a little longer.”
“Yeah, but how will we ever know if we’re safe?”
“I don’t know,” Jodi said, sticking her head out the open window again. Her right arm was killing her. She considered getting some painkillers out of the suitcase in the back, but it seemed like too much trouble.
“Even if they don’t follow us,” Owen said, “we can’t go back that same way. The road will still be blocked.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jodi replied. “Maybe we should take the cross street and head farther south. It’ll take us well out of our way, but we’ll avoid the roadblock that way. I hate to add more time to our trip, but we still have enough gas.”
Mike dug the snub-nosed .38 out of his backpack. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said, “but first we need to be sure the coast is clear. I’ll walk around the building and take a look.”
“Why can’t we just start the truck and leave?” Owen said. “I’ll go really fast.”
“If they’re lurking out there, they’ll hear the truck,” Mike said. “I’ll just take a peek and make sure it’s safe.”
“Okay, but do it quickly,” Jodi said. She opened the door and stepped outside so Mike could get out of the truck. “Try not to let anyone see you.”
“Yeah, I got it. I’ll use my ninja skills.”
As he walked away, Jodi observed how frail he looked. He’d lost weight, and his knees seemed on the verge of giving out with every step. His hair hung off his shiny head in wispy tangles, and his old polo shirt hung loosely from his shoulders. The last few days had diminished him. How much longer would he survive? Mike needed plenty of rest in a comfortable bed, lots of fluids and healthy food—and the post-chemo medicines the idiot thief at the gas station had stolen.
He stepped around the dumpster and headed for the far corner of the building as Jodi climbed back inside the truck.
“I’m worried about Uncle Mike,” Owen said. “He doesn’t look well.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Jodi agreed. She started to close the truck door then thought better of it. What if they had to make a hasty getaway?
“Neither do you, Mom.”
She shushed him and pointed to her ear. She listened to Mike’s fading footsteps. At the same time, she thought she heard traffic moving through town, but nothing that seemed particularly suspicious. Surely, they were in the clear by now.
“Let’s just get Mike and leave,” she said. “We can turn south and circle back around to Macon somewhere down the road. Maybe we’ll go all the way to the next interstate.”
“Okay.”
Owen reached for the keys, but at that moment Mike reappeared, dragging his feet as he shuffled around the dumpster. Jodi saw instantly that something was wrong by the look on his face. She had a fraction of a second to realize he wasn’t holding his gun before the other men appeared.
They were right behind him, sunlight glinting on mirrored sunglasses. She recognized them immediately—the same faces that had popped up from behind the roadblock. One of the men was taller and older than the other, gray whiskers covering a prominent chin and cheeks. He wore a camouflage hat and jacket, and had enormous black boots. The second man, though smaller, was stockier, well-muscled, in a matching hat and jacket. He had a scraggly beard hanging like weeds from a bony face. Both the men clutched handguns that were pointed at the back of Mike’s head.
Reacting instinctively, Jodi pulled the door shut and started to roll up the window.
“Get out of the truck,” the taller man said. He had a breathy voice, almost a rasp. “Get out of the truck right now, or your friend is dead.” As if to prove the point, he jabbed the barrel of his gun against Mike’s neck, hitting close to the edge of the bandage. Mike gasped in pain.
Jodi glanced at Owen, feeling sudden, overwhelming despair.
I can’t take it, she thought. It’s too much.
> She started to reach for the pellet gun on the floorboard, then thought better of it. Flinging the door open, she stepped out of the truck.
“Mom?”
“What’s the use?” she said. “The pellet gun won’t do any damage. Stay here. I’m going first.”
“No, Mom. Don’t do it.”
But she stepped away from the truck and kicked the door shut. Steeling herself, she approached Mike and the men.
5
Violet struggled to find some meaningful way to pass the time. At the moment, she was guiding Ruby through Grandma’s house, trying to teach her faithful guide dog the layout. Though she’d visited the house numerous times throughout her childhood, it still didn’t feel completely clear in her mind. The turn from the dining room toward the foyer always threw her off. She kept cutting too soon and running into the end of the couch. Fortunately, the arm of the couch was padded. Ruby caught on after the third pass and started tugging at the harness to pull her away.
“Good girl,” Violet said, when she felt the cold linoleum of the foyer against her bare feet. “Now, take me to my room.”
They made it most of the way down the hall, but Violet jostled her arm against the bathroom doorknob. It made an especially loud sound, and she quickly stepped away.
“Careful, Ruby,” she said. “Go straight. I’ve got enough bruises.”
She was sharing a bedroom with Kaylee, but she wasn’t sure if Ruby remembered. Indeed, as they reached the end of the hall, the dog hesitated, as if unsure whether to turn right into Grandma’s room or left into Violet’s room. Violet finally shook the harness gently, and Ruby made her choice, leading her to the left.
“That’s right,” Violet said, stooping down to pet Ruby. “Good girl. Now, let’s do it again.”
She turned around, intending to head back down the hall, but at that moment she heard the sheriff calling from the guest room.
“Pardon me. Excuse me. Can someone help?”
“Do you hear that, Ruby?” Violet said. “Lead me there.”
Ruby pulled her down the hall toward the guest room. At the door, instead of barging in, Violet leaned in close and spoke.
“I hear you, sir,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” the sheriff replied. “Could you help me, please?”
Violet slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. It smelled terrible. An unbathed person with an undercurrent of blood. Even if his voice had regained some of its robustness, Sheriff Cooley was still not well.
“What do you need, sir?” she asked.
She heard him shift on the bed, as if sitting up. “My throat is killing me. I could use a glass of water.”
“Okay, no problem.”
She started to back out of the room, but he made a strange sound.
“Wait, wait,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’re the…uh, the blind girl, right?”
Violet felt an immediate sinking feeling. “Yes, sir,” she said. Without meaning to, she reached up to adjust her sunglasses, only to remember that she’d left them in the van. Instead, she awkwardly passed a hand over her eyes, as it to draw attention to them. It made her cringe.
“Never mind,” the sheriff said. “I’ll get someone else to do it. I’m sorry.”
His pity, like all pity, made her instantly embarrassed, but she also felt a little knot of anger. “Sir, I can do just about anything. I’m not helpless.”
“I don’t want to bother you,” he said.
Ignoring the comment, she backed out of the room. “I’ll be right back with your water,” she said, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice. He thinks I can’t get a cup of water? How useless do I seem to people?
Seething, she made her way to the bathroom across the hall and felt along the counter for the stack of paper Dixie cups that she knew her Grandma kept handy. In her anger, she knocked them over, but she quickly picked them up and pulled one off the top. It was a tiny cup, but it would have to do. And maybe it was more than he deserved.
No, he wasn’t trying to offend you, she reminded herself. He didn’t mean it.
She filled up the small cup and brought it back into the bedroom, letting Ruby lead her to the side of the bed. He took the cup from her hands.
“Sorry it’s so small,” she said. “I can get you a bigger cup, if you want.”
“No, this is fine,” he said. “My throat just gets a little dry.” She heard him swallow the water in one gulp. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings, girl. I wasn’t sure if…” He let the comment hang.
“It’s fine,” she replied, taking the empty cup from him. “Most people assume I’m helpless. It bothers me, but I know they don’t mean anything by it.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” he said, “have you always been blind? If you prefer not to talk about it, just forget the question.”
“It doesn’t bother me to talk about it,” she said. “If anything, it’s worse when people tiptoe around me, like maybe I don’t even realize I can’t see.” She crumpled up the Dixie cup with what might have been a bit more force than necessary. “To answer your question, sir, I was born this way.”
“Are you a hundred percent blind?” he asked.
“I can see bright lights, but that’s about it.”
“And there’s nothing doctors can do about it?”
“Well, actually, before all of this stupid stuff happened, we’d talked to my doctor about some kind of bionic implant,” she said. “There’s a company that’s been testing an implant for blind people. They put electrodes on your brain and attach them to a bionic eye. Apparently, they’ve been granted conditional approval to test it out on some patients, and I was maybe in line to be one of them.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing,” the sheriff said. “Real cutting-edge tech.”
“Yeah, but I guess it won’t happen now,” Violet said, feeling a moment of intense regret.
“I’m sorry. You must be very disappointed.”
Violet shrugged. “No point feeling sorry for myself,” she said. “I just have to accept the situation and get on with my life. I’ve lived my whole life without sight, and I think I do fine.”
“And you’ve got your furry companion there to help,” the sheriff said. Violet could tell by the sound of him that the sheriff was leaning over to pet the dog, and she gently moved out of reach. Ruby didn’t need distractions when she was learning.
“Ruby is great,” she said. “She helps me get around, and she warns me about obstacles. Heck, I can walk in the city if I want to. Ruby watches out for cars and pedestrians and streets signs and all kinds of things. She’s very talented.”
“She seems like a good doggy,” the sheriff said.
“She is. Sir, do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine for now,” he said. “Thank you.”
Violet turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
She let Ruby guide her back down the hall and through the living room again. This time, Violet made it all the way to the sliding glass door in the dining room without bumping into anything. She heard Kaylee squealing with excitement in the backyard, so she opened the door and stepped onto the back porch.
“You have to run, Violet,” her little sister called. “You have to run from the tornado!”
“Tornado?”
“Yeah, it’s a little bitty one, and it’s right in our backyard. Run or it’ll get you!”
“Uh-oh, that sounds dangerous.”
Kaylee paused, as if unsure whether or not Violet understood the game. “It’s not for real, Violet. It’s just a pretend tornado.”
“Well, in that case, we’d better run away from it,” Violet replied, “so we don’t get pretend blown away.”
Violet joined her little sister in dashing about the yard. It was good practice for Ruby, who did a great job of keeping her clear of the edges of the garden. She ran around with Kaylee for a few minutes, enjoying the exercise. The bright sunlight hovered in the distance,
a shifting blob of colorless brilliance to her eyes. The warmth of it against her face felt nice.
As she was running past the back porch, she caught a snatch of conversation between her father and the nice young man named Corbin.
“So you know what we’re looking for then?” Shane asked.
“What we need to find is a portable solar power kit,” Corbin replied. “It’ll be easier to set up. We’re not looking for full-size solar panels. We don’t have a way to transport them, and they’d be a nightmare to install.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Shane said. “Are you ready to go?”
Violet pulled Ruby to a stop and doubled back to the porch.
“Dad, are you planning on going into the city again?” she asked.
“Yes, Violet,” he replied, somewhat hesitantly. “We won’t be gone long.”
Violet felt a flutter of anxiety. “Are you sure it’s safe? Mom hasn’t arrived yet. What if she comes back while you’re gone and needs help?”
“We’ll be fine,” Shane said, “and your mother will be fine. I’m sure she just had to take a detour to get here. Probably had to find a way around a traffic jam.”
He didn’t mean it. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was as worried about Mom as she was.
“Solar panels will give us power,” Corbin said. “It’s worth the risk. Plus, maybe we can pick up some other stuff we need, like a generator or…I don’t know. There’s all sorts of stuff we could use.”
“I want to come,” Violet said. I want to be useful, is what she really meant to say. “I can help carry the solar panels. Remember how I helped with the food buckets?”
“No, you need to stay here,” Shane replied.
“Why do you always tell me that? Because it isn’t safe? You just said it’ll be fine.”
Her father sighed. “I’m not sure if it’ll be safe for you, sweetheart. Anyway, we might need all the space in the back of the van to bring back the solar panels.”
“I don’t take up much room,” she said. “How big can the solar panels possibly be? We fit dozens of big food buckets and cardboard boxes in the back of the van, and there was still room for people.”
Surviving The End (Book 2): Fallen World Page 4
