Before turning right, I checked the rearview mirror for what seemed like the umpteenth time for any sign of the infected, but there was nothing. I suddenly seemed to be living a charmed life. The only infected person I'd seen in the area was stuck in an upstairs bedroom.
To be thorough, I counted the number of homes to the corner. The Josephsons' home was the seventh from the corner, a detail that might prove useful later on.
I abandoned the ATS on a dead-end street, the third street up from where I had turned. A white RV was parked in a driveway halfway down the street. It couldn't have been more perfect. The house was abandoned which made me feel more at ease about stashing the ATS there, and there was expanded RV parking next to the driveway. The motor home was a white Fleetwood Terra. It would easily conceal the Cadillac. I parked the ATS as close to the motor home as I could while leaving enough room for me to exit through the window. Unless the Swimmer came all the way down the street, he wouldn't be able to spot the car. And even if he found the car, he wouldn't know where I was.
I turned the car off and exited out the window. The exit was easier the second time around. Then I reached in and grabbed my backpack. I left the fob on the front seat so someone else could use the ATS. Maybe it would help them as much as it had helped me.
I only had to go through two rows of homes to get to the next street. And the same would be true for the street after that. I was cutting across blocks rather than traveling lengthwise through them. It wouldn't take me long to get to the Sarah and Becky's house.
I breezed through the backyards. With the unfettered growth of nature and the constant clicking of the crickets, the backyards had become almost wilderness-like. The crickets were in rare form tonight. Their rhythmic high-pitched screeching drowned out the distant moans of the infected. And I didn't mind that at all.
It only took me fifteen minutes or so to travel across two blocks and get in position across the street from the Josephsons' block. I kneeled down next to some bushes and took in the cool night air. The temperature must have been in the 60s and the fresh air helped keep me alert. And despite a lack of sleep, I felt vibrantly alive.
I studied the row of homes across the street. Sarah and Becky's home would be on the other side of these homes. I looked across the street for any signs of abandonment. From my vantage point, I could see three homes to choose from. My favorite was the fifth home from the corner. Again, this home wasn't shuttered up at all. A light was on somewhere on the main floor, slightly illuminating the front living room. I thought it might be a hallway light. If its light reached the kitchen, it would make my task that much easier. And there was another home four houses down that I could use as a backup just in case.
If my calculations were spot on, the ranch-style brick bungalow would be right behind this home's backyard. And from there, the Josephsons' home would be two houses over. I was only a few minutes from their house.
I ran across the street, making sure to crouch low the whole way, even though I was fairly certain there weren't any infected around.
Before heading to Sarah and Becky's, I checked out the house I'd chosen for food supply. I knelt on its back porch and scratched at the back door with my nails. I waited and listened intently but never heard a thing. Without the air conditioning on, any infected in the house should have heard the scratching. The only sounds to mask the noise I was making were the crickets. The house itself was remarkably silent. I scratched at the door again, a little harder this time, and waited. I still heard nothing. I worked as quietly as I could with the tension wrench and rake pick and had the back door open in under thirty seconds.
I left the gun in the backpack this time and grabbed my bat. Firing a gun this close to the Josephsons' home didn't seem like a good idea. I didn't want to attract any infected to the area, especially the Swimmer, so the bat would have to do. As I'd suspected, there was a hallway light on. It threw a narrow wedge of light onto the kitchen floor. I stood and listened for a few moments just to make sure I was alone.
There wasn't a lot in the fridge and much of it had gone bad. The cow's milk was spoiled, the yogurt dated, and the lettuce wilted. There was some cheese that was still good along with a half-gallon of almond milk. There were apples too. The freezer had salmon and chicken breasts. The pantry had numerous cans of soup, saltines, peanut butter, boxes of pasta, and lots of bottled water. Not a bonanza, but enough to feed them for at least a few days. I hadn't planned on taking anything now. I just wanted to see what was available. I would empty my backpack at their home and come back for the food.
I left the house and cleared the backyard fence and found myself in the backyard of the ranch-style brick bungalow. The house was dark and shuttered up as if there were people in the home. The bungalow was right where I had expected it to be. I began feeling apprehensive. I went into the next yard without a second thought but balked when I came to the fence leading to the Josephsons' house.
I wondered if it was such a good idea to break into their home in the middle of the night. I thought about waiting till morning. This late, Sarah and Becky would almost certainly be asleep, and the last thing I wanted to do was to spook them. I could always go back to the house I'd just broken into and wait till morning. They weren't expecting me till tomorrow afternoon anyway.
I stood at the fence breathing and trying to relax. And then I began to wonder how late it was getting. I slipped my backpack off and dug my watch out of the small outer pouch. I hadn't worn the watch since my first night out. It was 1:45 in the morning. Not as late as I thought.
I knew they hadn't eaten anything for two days and they needed nourishment. They needed to get something in their stomachs, and they needed it now, not later when I was feeling more relaxed about meeting them. Just then, the sharp crack of gunfire fractured the night air. The gunshots seemed to come from the east, not too far off. I knew there had to be more than one shooter because the gunfire overlapped and the shots sounded as if they were coming from different weapons. Some shots sounded like firecrackers, probably coming from handguns, while others boomed loudly like shotguns. The density of shotgun blasts rolled through the night air like thunder.
The crickets suddenly went silent.
A few moments later I heard the squealing of tires and the rising whine of an engine hitting its apex before being shifted into another gear. The sounds came from the east side of the freeway, most likely from the Olympus Hills Shopping Center on Wasatch Boulevard and 39th South—less than two blocks away from the underpass near Skyline High. There was a Dan's Foods there and several other businesses, including an Einstein's Bagels and a Barbacoa Mexican Grill. Gunshots continued to ring out sporadically. I heard the car being shifted again right before the sudden screeching of tires that preceded a loud crash. I wondered what had happened, but I had no doubt what the outcome would be. A couple shots rang out after the crash, but that was it. After the last shots, the moans spiked and became frenetic. I couldn't quite reconcile in my mind why they would have been out this late at night. They had to be nuts. Then again, here I was.
I slipped my backpack back on and quietly snapped the buckle shut. I grabbed the top of the fence post and pulled myself up, swinging my right leg up to the top of the fence. Then I pulled myself up all the way. Once balanced, I jumped down easily onto the grass.
The Josephsons had a back porch wood patio built up against the back wall of the house. Maybe fifteen feet deep and fifteen feet wide, bordered all around by a wood railing. The decking was redwood. A glass patio table with a floral umbrella and four chairs resided on one side of the deck. On the other side, two lounge chairs were separated by a small bamboo table.
Three steps led up to the deck level which led to the back door. I decided to avoid the steps. I gripped the railing about halfway up, then stretched my leg up to the deck level and pulled myself up to the deck, bypassing the steps. I walked quickly across the deck hoping for the best, and I almost made it. But as I approached the back door, a deck board groa
ned under my feet. It wasn't much of a sound, no more than a slight creak. I hoped the crickets had helped mask the sound. Not long after the last gunshot, the crickets had returned in full force.
The back door had two locks and the top lock was a deadbolt. I retrieved the tension wrench and rake pick from my pocket and went to work. I picked the knob lock first, and as usual, it was easy. Deadbolts were a different story, at least that's what I had gathered from watching the videos. They were trickier and took more time, and this deadbolt would be my first.
The process was the same. Put the tension wrench in first, keep a little pressure on it, set the pins with the rake pick, then turn the wrench when the pins were set. I kept raking the pins upward, but a few of them kept slipping back down. I couldn't seem to get all the pins to stay up at the same time. I tried to remain patient, but I was afraid the infected might hear my tinkering.
After a couple minutes, I could feel all the pins set, and I turned the tension wrench and felt the deadbolt slide back into the lock housing. I opened the door with meticulous care. I still had my backpack on since I planned to empty it once I got inside. That way I'd be able to fill it up with food. I never even thought about grabbing the bat or the Glock. Once inside, I turned and pushed the door back up to the door jamb but didn't close it.
Now that I was in their home, I wasn't quite sure what I should do. I was afraid I'd scare the bejesus out of them if I tried waking them. And I had no idea where they might be in the house. I assumed they'd be in the basement. But they could have been upstairs in the bedrooms too. Either way, I didn't like the idea of waking them up. I had no clear idea as to what I was going to do, but I felt relieved to finally be at their home.
Chapter 9 – Raj
I didn't hear her at all till her strangled voice whispered, "Who's there?" Her hushed voice trembled wildly as she spoke. "We have guns," she warned. "If you don't leave, we'll have to shoot you."
I couldn't exactly tell where her voice was coming from, though I knew it was close since I could hear her voice clearly. She sounded frightened but determined. Despite her threat to shoot me, I didn't believe she actually had a gun. I wanted to let her know she wasn't in any real danger.
"Sarah, is that you?" I asked quietly.
But she didn't say anything, and a dark silence built up between us. I stood motionless in the bleak shadows of the kitchen, waiting. The only sounds were the consistent hum of the fridge and the muffled clicking of the crickets outside.
I'm not exactly sure what I'd imagined would happen, but this wasn't it. Whatever this was. A Mexican standoff without guns? Mine was tucked away in my backpack and she very likely didn't have one. It was a ridiculous but real dilemma. We were stuck in a fearful stalemate. I had been so hell bent on getting here, I hadn't thought things out very well. I'd never really thought about what I would do when I got here.
I wondered if I should say something else to reassure her, but the longer I stood there, the more paralyzed I felt, far too self-conscious of saying the wrong thing to say anything at all. Thankfully, and none too soon, she broke the silence herself.
"Who's there?" she whispered, sounding apprehensive.
"It's Jake," I said, as if we were long lost friends and the mere mention of my name would trigger her memory. But she had no idea who I was. "We talked on the phone earlier this evening?" I reminded her, letting my voice trail off to make it sound like a question. Then I added, "You called your grandparents' home. Remember?"
And then to cement the connection, "You said you needed food."
After a few moments, she responded, "But you said you'd come tomorrow afternoon." And she sounded suspicious.
"Yes," I told her. "I said that. But they attacked your grandparents' home. I had no choice. I had to leave."
She paused again, then asked, "How did you get here?"
"I took the Cadillac," I told her.
"But you said you couldn't drive. You said it was too dangerous."
I couldn't understand why she was peppering me with questions. I began to feel defensive, though I knew there was no reason I should. I was there to help them.
I tried to remain as patient as I could. "I didn't have any other choice," I explained to her. Then I took a breath and spoke to her as calmly as I could, as if I were talking to one of my fifth graders. "They had the house surrounded," I whispered to her. "Taking the ATS was the only way I could get away. I was lucky to get out."
Then, all of a sudden, I caught a glimpse of her, at least I thought I did. She was immersed in dark shadows. So much so, for a moment I wasn't sure if she was actually there or not. She had leaned her head around the corner of a wall adjacent to the kitchen. She'd been much closer than I had imagined, no more than ten feet away on the other side of the wall. I could just make out her head and the tip of her shoulder, though I couldn't see her clearly. She appeared to be checking me out. I raised my hands up and showed her the palms of my hands as if to let her know I wasn't armed. I didn't know what else to do. A few seconds later, she curled around the corner of the wall and stood in the wide entryway next to the door jamb.
She stood quietly in the darkness, her lithe figure erect, arms folded across her chest. Her hair was remarkably short, maybe even shaved. "Did you bring food?" she asked hopefully.
"No," I told her. "But there's a house nearby that has food. I just need to empty out my backpack and go back to get the food. I already checked the house out."
I couldn't see her face clearly, but I could sense her wariness. I saw it in her stiff posture and the way her arms were folded so tightly across her chest. And who could blame her? I'd just broken into her house.
I thought it best to keep her mind off the breaking and entering. "Is there a table where I can unload my stuff?" I asked. "The sooner I get my things out of the backpack, the sooner I can get some food for you and Becky." It was the first time I'd mentioned her daughter's name, and I thought it was a good idea.
"In here," she whispered quietly. She motioned with a slight nod of her head for me to follow her.
I followed her into a dark room. It was a simple dining room with an oval table surrounded by four chairs perfectly centered underneath a four-lamp chandelier. She was standing just a few feet away from me, an intimate distance, but she couldn't have been more remote. She was clearly uncomfortable with my presence in her home. And the way things were going, I wasn't too thrilled to be there either. I wondered what had possessed me to come here in the first place. I could have been on the other side of the freeway sleeping on a comfortable couch or bed in someone's basement, just one day away from being out of the valley. Instead, I was here.
I hoped my less-than-threatening physical presence might help her relax.
She watched me closely as I took my backpack off and set it down gently on the table. I unzipped the main pouch zipper and began to pull out the items from my backpack one at a time. I took the bat out, but left the Glock stashed in its pouch. I didn't want her to see the gun. No telling how she might react.
I glanced in her direction and asked if she and Becky would be interested in the almond milk I'd found. I didn't know whether they would care for it or not. But she nodded affirmatively. I thought she might be warming up to me. My eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and I could see her more clearly now. She had thick dark hair, probably black, no more than a quarter inch in length, and I could see the shape of her skull with its gentle smooth curves. Her eyes were dark and slim, shaped like almonds. She was willowy thin with a long, slender neck. I guessed her to be around five-foot seven. She had on sweat pants and a halter top and was in her bare feet. She was Asian, maybe Chinese, which caught me off guard. I hadn't expected that.
After emptying everything out, I slipped the backpack back on and grabbed the bat off the table. I suggested she leave the back door open for me and I told her I'd be back in about fifteen minutes. She nodded again. And maybe it was just my imagination, but she seemed far less stressed than she had be
en earlier. I was feeling more relaxed too.
I was leery about crossing the wood deck again, but there really wasn't a better alternative. If I left by the front door, the infected might see me. While there didn't appear to be any infected nearby, you could never know for sure. Leaving by the back door, they might hear a deck board creak, but then again they might not, especially if there weren't any infected in the area. Leaving by the back door was the best option. I was sure of it.
Once out on the deck, I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to be outside again. I had decided it would be easier to walk along the deck next to the house. The distance was shorter and I figured the deck boards would be less worn and less likely to creak. It was just a guess, but it panned out. I moved silently across the deck, then stepped over the railing and jumped down onto the grass.
I was back in fifteen minutes and she was waiting for me in the kitchen, arms dangling awkwardly in front of her as if she didn't know what to do with them. Her hands had settled onto her thighs. She looked anything but comfortable. Still, I took it as progress. I placed the backpack on the counter next to the fridge and opened it for her, then I stood back. She rooted around in the backpack's main pouch inspecting everything. She put the salmon and chicken breasts in the freezer and put the cheese and the apples on one of the empty shelves. The rest of the food—cans of soup, crackers, almond milk, and peanut butter—she left in the backpack.
When she was done, she motioned for me to take the backpack. "We need to go downstairs," she whispered.
Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) Page 15
