“I don’t know,” Owen said, shoulders slumping. “There’s only one body here. What happened to the other guys? What happened to Mom?”
As Mike backed away from the tents, he spotted another glittering object nearby. When he approached, he realized it was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He picked it up, shaking out the last drop, then held it up for Owen to see. Staring at the empty bottle, he began to imagine a possible scenario.
“Maybe…just maybe they all got drunk,” he said. “All but Jodi.”
“And she attacked the lead guy after he passed out,” Owen added.
“Right.” Mike tossed the bottle aside. “Only three bikes. Maybe she stabbed him, slashed the tires so his goons couldn’t follow, and rode away on his bike. You think?”
“I don’t think Mom can ride a motorcycle.”
Mike wagged a finger at him. “See, that’s where you don’t know your mom as good as you think. She went on a motorcycle road trip with her boyfriend in college. Before she met your dad, she was dating this bohemian dork who loved the open road. I didn’t care for him. Picture a dude with a thin little beard that’s got a rubber band around it, a tattoo of a swan on his forearm, white guy dreadlocks. I mean, seriously, Jodi, what were you thinking?”
A brief sour expression passed over Owen’s face. Clearly, he didn’t like imagining his mom on a road trip with another man.
“Don’t worry, Owen. I’m pretty sure the road trip was the beginning of the end of their relationship, but she learned to ride a bike pretty good. As I recall, it was this hot little Honda, white with a kind of blue squiggle on it. I was a tiny bit jealous, I have to admit.”
“Okay, enough about that,” Owen said. “What happened to the other gang members here?”
Mike shrugged. “My guess is they’re hoofing it. We might find them down the road somewhere. If we spot them, you can flatten them with the pimp-mobile. I’m telling you, I think she killed the leader and got away.”
Owen pumped a fist in the air. “Oh, man, I hope you’re right, Uncle Mike. That would be pretty awesome, you know?”
“Yeah, definitely. If so, she’ll head to Macon. We won’t catch her on the road. If anything, she’ll beat us home.”
“I hope so,” Owen said, heading for the LTD. “If Mom did this, if she managed to escape, it’ll be the most amazing thing ever.”
“Your mom is a smart, educated person,” Mike said, “and the losers who kidnapped her were knuckle-dragging subhumans. I wouldn’t put it past her. Those guys had no idea the danger they put themselves in when they took her.”
They got back in the car, and Owen reversed out of the trees. They got back on the road, heading south. Within a few miles, they spotted a sign for Interstate 16. As they approached the highway, they saw no sign of the other kidnappers.
Maybe she killed them, too, Mike thought. Suddenly, it seemed more than possible. Watch out world. Don’t mess with Jodi McDonald.
12
Mounting the solar panels on the roof was a simple task, especially with Corbin’s help, but the late afternoon Georgia sun was relentless. By the time he climbed down off the roof, Shane was sweating like crazy, and he’d sunburned the back of his neck. Standing near the mailbox to examine their handiwork, he noted how small the solar panels looked.
“Not all that impressive,” he said.
“Well, they’re designed for RVs and cabins,” Corbin replied, “but they’ll supply enough power to charge the batteries.”
“It’ll have to do,” Shane said.
He grabbed the ends of the trailing wires and ran them through the window near the front door. They’d set up the batteries on a folding card table in the living room. Shane taped the wires high on the wall and ran them to the table. While he was doing that, Corbin went to the kitchen and got them some bottles of water.
“Thanks,” Shane said, twisting off the cap.
He was about to take a drink when he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. It was a big engine by the sound of it. Shane was instantly alert. He waved Corbin back and approached the front door, his hand going to the Glock.
“We should’ve gotten that fence up before the solar panels,” Corbin said.
“It’s fine,” Shane said. “Stay here.”
He drew the gun and opened the front door. The car pulling into the driveway caught him off guard. A huge neon green Ford LTD with a red interior and fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. It was so absurd, he almost burst out laughing. Then he remembered the danger and drew the Glock, keeping it behind the door.
Oh God, what sort of weirdos are going to climb out of a car like that? he wondered.
And then the driver’s door flew open, and his son, Owen, stepped out. Shane was so startled he almost dropped the gun. He crammed it into the holster and ran outside. They met at the edge of the porch and embraced, Owen crushing Shane in his arms so hard that Shane momentarily lost his breath.
“How’d you get here?” Shane asked. “Where’d you get that car?”
“It’s a long story, Dad.”
Shane disentangled himself from his son in time to see his brother-in-law, Mike, approaching. He looked terrible: pale, sweaty, patchy hair, a plastic IV port in his forearm. Mike had lost quite a bit of weight. Shane was afraid to even shake his hand, so he settled for a gentle pat on the shoulder instead.
“You like our taste in cars?” Mike said. “Owen picked it out. It was sitting behind an auto body shop just waiting for someone to adopt it.”
“Its…unusual,” Shane replied.
Mike gazed over his shoulder toward the open door. “So where’s Jodi? We figured she would get here before us.”
Shane felt a jolt of fear. “Isn’t she with you?”
Clapping a hand to his forehead, Mike sat down on the hood of the LTD. Shane looked at him for a moment then turned to Owen. His son stared back, wide-eyed, but neither of them answered the question.
“She was with you guys,” Shane said. “The last time I spoke to her, she was with you, right?”
“She was…she was kidnapped by some biker gang,” Mike said, “but we have reason to believe she stole a motorcycle and escaped.”
“I want to hear the whole story,” Shane said.
Mike nodded, then proceeded to recount the entire horrifying tale, from spotting the roadblock to hiding behind the bar to finding the remains of the camp beside the storage building. Shane listened with a feeling of mounting horror. It was worse than he’d feared, and his immediate desire was to get the AR-15 and plenty of bullets and hit the road to find her.
“What was her last known location?” he asked.
“The camp, I suppose,” Mike replied.
“Can you provide directions to this place?”
“Dad, you won’t find her,” Owen said. “We looked and looked.”
“I don’t accept that,” Shane said. “Can you provide directions to this camp?”
“Take Interstate 16 to the Allentown exit,” Mike said with a sigh. “Head north on State Route 112. After a few miles, you’ll see a big storage shed on the left with some tents in the parking lot. That’s the last place we know she was at.”
“Good enough,” Shane said. “I should be able to find it.”
“I really hoped she’d be here already,” Mike added. “In fact, I’m surprised she’s not. I can’t imagine what happened.”
Shane couldn’t decide if he was more angry or scared, but his course was set. He turned and marched back into the house, followed by Mike and Owen. Corbin had been standing at the front door, but he moved aside then fell in beside the growing posse. In the kitchen, Shane grabbed a plastic bag from under the sink and began to pack some food and water.
“There’s more food in the car,” Owen said. “We brought it with us. You’ll find it in the back seat.”
Shane barely heard him. He looked for Corbin and pointed at him.
“Go and get the AR-15,” he said. “Grab a few boxes of a
mmo for the rifle and the Glock, and bring it all to the dining room.”
Corbin saluted and ran out of the kitchen. Owen and Mike watched quietly as Shane filled the plastic bag. He kept expecting them to say something, but they didn’t. Finally, he moved past them into the dining room. Corbin returned shortly, boxes of ammo stacked in the crook of his left arm, the AR-15 dangling from the right. He set everything on the table.
“Are we going creep-hunting?” Mike said. “Is that the plan?”
Shane looked at his brother-in-law. Mike seemed on the verge of collapse. Just standing in the kitchen seemed to take a fierce act of will, and he kept dabbing his face with the hem of his filthy polo shirt.
“Not you,” Shane said. “You need to stay here and recover your strength. Same goes for Owen and Corbin. All of you stay here. Beth, Violet, and Kaylee need your help. I’m going to handle this by myself.”
There was immediate protest from everyone in the room.
“Dad, we’re not letting you go out there alone,” Owen said.
“Terrible idea,” Mike said at the same time. “You need someone watching your back.”
“You can use my help,” Corbin said. “You probably need me, like you did with the Eddies. Two can coordinate and flank an enemy.”
“I’m not discussing it,” Shane said, slinging the rifle over his back. He picked up boxes of ammo for the AR-15 and the Glock. “I don’t want any of you getting killed. Let’s be frank, guys, this might be a suicide mission.”
“Dad!”
“I won’t let my wife stay out there alone,” Shane continued, speaking over Owen. “Whatever she’s dealing with right now, I’m going to face it with her. That’s it. You guys are needed here.”
He gave a stern look to each of them in turn. Mike resigned himself first, nodding sadly and sitting down at the dining table. Owen and Corbin both looked like they wanted to say more, so Shane gave them the sharpest look he could manage, even as he stuffed boxes of ammo in either pocket. In the end, Owen hung his head, and only Corbin dared to speak.
“You really could use my help, though,” he said. “You don’t know how many you’re up against.”
“If I don’t come back, this household will need you, Corbin,” he said. “More than ever. Not just to fend off attackers, but for the solar power, the fortifications, any repair work. You have to stay.”
Before he could say more, Shane pushed past him and headed across the living room, digging the Westfalia key out of his pocket. Corbin and Owen followed him to the foyer.
“Dad, are you sure?” Owen said softly. Suddenly, he sounded very young.
Shane turned and hugged his son. As he did this, he noticed that Corbin averted his gaze, as if the show of affection made him uncomfortable.
“Your mom would do the same for me,” Shane said.
“I know she would,” Owen replied. “Please be careful.”
“Help take care of things until I get back.”
And with that, Shane stepped outside and shut the door behind him. Owen didn’t try to follow. Shane opened the driver’s door to the van, pulled the rifle off his back, and set it on the floorboard between the seats. Then he pulled the ammo boxes out of his pockets and slid them into the pocket of the driver’s door. As he climbed into the van, he saw Owen watching him from the window, grimacing, probably wishing he’d tried harder to talk his dad out of going. Shane gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Help take care of the place until I get back,” he called, unsure of whether or not Owen could hear him.
As he put the key in the ignition, the front door opened. Thinking Corbin had decided to try to force the issue, Shane braced himself for an argument. He was surprised to see Sheriff Cooley shuffle outside, followed by Beth and Violet. They approached the van.
“Guys, it’s what I have to do,” Shane said, hoping to stave off any debate. “Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. Jodi is out there somewhere, and I intend to find her.”
“I quite agree,” the sheriff said. He looked like a man who’d been lying in bed for weeks. His thinning hair was wild, the bandage on the side of his head bloody, and he had salt-and-pepper whiskers all over his cheeks and chin. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that Beth had scrounged up for him—they’d no doubt belonged to her deceased husband—but he’d put on his black boots. “I’m coming with you.”
“What are you talking about?” Shane said as the sheriff walked around to the passenger side of the van. “You’ve barely been out of bed for two days.”
Only as he opened the door did Shane realize the sheriff was holding his service revolver in a holster in his right hand.
“I feel strong enough,” Sheriff Cooley said. “Anyway, I’m law enforcement. It’s my job to rescue people, and it sounds like your wife needs rescuing. You can fill me in on the whole story as we go.”
Beth came up to the open driver’s door, blocking it so Shane couldn’t close it. “James, this is outside of your jurisdiction.”
“Not today,” James said. He snapped his fingers suddenly. “Wait a minute. I forgot my stuff.” He turned and put a finger in Shane’s face. “Now, don’t you go anywhere, Shane. Don’t make me follow you in my cruiser, because I will. Be right back.”
He got out of the car and headed across the yard toward Mrs. Eddies’s house. Shane watched him go, and, in fact, if Beth hadn’t been holding his door open, he would have driven away. Sheriff Cooley didn’t need to come with him. Nobody did. He wanted to handle this alone, risks and all.
“Shane, have you thought this through?” Beth said. “If something has happened to Jodi—”
“Then I need to be there for her,” Shane said, cutting her off.
“And what about your children?” she said.
It was the one thing she could have said to reach him. Shane turned and saw Violet standing behind Beth, frowning, her eyes tracking back and forth as they often did, and he felt a moment of guilt.
“Beth, what can I do?” Shane said. “If she’s out there somewhere, I have to try to find her. She might be in danger. Would you rather I sat at the house, crossed my fingers, and hoped for the best?”
“No,” she replied, “but you don’t have to go alone.”
He turned to look for James. The sheriff had opened the garage next door. Apparently, the Eddies boys had stored his patrol car there. It was silver with yellow lettering along the side that said, “SHERIFF Bibb County.” James opened the trunk and rooted around inside.
“Well, Sheriff Cooley seems determined to come with me,” Shane said, “so your wish is granted.”
“No, he needs to be in bed,” Beth said. “He hasn’t fully recovered. Take Corbin.”
“I’m not taking that kid into danger, not again. It’s not right. He’s sixteen. Sheriff Cooley is a professional. This is what he does for a living.”
Beth had no argument for this, but Shane could tell by the sour look on her face that she still wanted to disagree. He wondered if her concern for Sheriff Cooley was about more than his injury. She did seem rather fond of the man. The sheriff started back across the yard, carrying items in the crook of his arms. As he got closer, Shane realized he was holding a pair of handcuffs, a shotgun—though Shane was pretty sure it was his riot gun—and a broad-brimmed sheriff’s hat.
“Well, at least watch out for him,” Beth said, conceding the point. “He’s still in rough shape.”
“I will,” Shane replied.
“I’m ready,” Sheriff Cooley said, sliding his riot gun onto the floorboard beside the AR-15. He clipped the handcuffs to his belt and settled the hat on his head. “I always keep a spare hat with me. In my line of work you’re prone to lose them.”
He shut the passenger door and clicked his seat belt into place. Then he turned to Shane and nodded.
“Let’s go find your wife,” he said.
“Sheriff, does your radio still work?” Beth asked, pointing to the portable radio mic clipped to the sh
oulder strap on his shirt.
“No, I’m afraid it doesn’t,” he replied, reaching up and touching the mic, as if to make sure it was still there, “but I’ve got a shortwave radio at my house.”
“Good. Before you head out to find Jodi, swing by and get it,” she said.
Despite his best efforts, Shane couldn’t stop himself from groaning loudly. “We’re wasting time. Can we just get out there and start looking for her?”
Beth spoke in a measured tone that Shane knew meant she was a lot angrier than she let on. “We need to stay in touch, if possible. James, let’s trade call-signs and radio frequencies so we can talk. Wait here just a second.”
As she went back to the house, she put her arm around Violet and guided her to the door. Shane was so annoyed at the delay that his whole body felt like it was tingling with electricity. He desperately wanted to hit the road as soon as possible. Every minute his wife was out there felt like an eternity. Still, he could see the value in having radio communication. Beth returned shortly with a small notebook. She wrote her call-sign and a frequency they could use, tore out the paper, and handed it to James. Then he gave her his own call-sign.
“Stay in contact, if you can,” she said.
“We will,” James replied.
“Okay,” Shane said. “We’re good? Great. We really should get going now.”
Beth stepped away from the car door, and he closed it. They had lingered long enough. As he backed down the driveway, he saw Owen and Corbin watching him from the window, Kaylee staring at him from the front door with Violet hugging her, and Beth standing in the driveway with a frown on her face. So many sad, fearful, and frustrated faces watching him drive away.
Maybe I’m doing wrong, he thought, but I can’t leave Jodi out there all alone.
“You know where my house is?” James said.
The sound of the man’s voice broke him out of his reverie.
“No, you’ll have to guide me,” Shane said. “Let’s hurry.”
“It’s not far,” James said.
As he reached the end of the street and turned, heading east, he couldn’t help thinking the sheriff wouldn’t be much help. He was seriously injured, as the bloody bandage on the side of his head made clear, but even without the head wound, Sheriff Cooley was easily sixty years old and not in the best shape.
Surviving The End (Book 2): Fallen World Page 11
