The moment Jillybean saw this, she slowed even more, letting the Ram extend its lead. Zoe didn’t notice as she was busy practicing with her gun. She also didn’t see, Jillybean reach down to her left and arm the radio-controlled detonator. When the girl depressed the trigger there was nothing but a click that went unremarked on, if it was even heard at all.
A bang from outside was heard and Zoe froze. “What was that? Was that a gunshot?”
Ahead of them, the Ram’s brake lights came on, but the truck didn’t slow appreciably. Luckily, it hadn’t been going fast to begin with and David was able to stop it by running along a guard rail with a screech that made it through the armor.
“What is he doing?” Zoe asked leaning over the console to see the front monitor.
“He hit the rail for some reason,” Jillybean said. “Ooh, he looks mad.”
David was out of the truck and squatting down next to it. The expression he wore wasn’t a pleasant one and Jillybean was sure that if he saw the remains of the blasting cap and the detonator attached to the brake line, there would be hell to pay. It had been easy enough to put in place. Anita had started an impromptu game of hide and sneak just minutes before they were supposed to leave and no one had thought it the least bit out of the ordinary that Jillybean had hid against the front wheel of the truck.
“Maybe you should go see what happened,” Jillybean suggested. “I’ll watch Emily.”
Zoe stepped out of the Camry and the moment she did, Jillybean pressed the door-lock button and as the young woman beat on the armor, she calmly detoured around the broken down truck and sped off down the road.
Chapter 44
Captain Grey
Finally, the herd began to move on. For an hour they had been stuck, strung out in a long, dangerously situated, curving line, while a thousand or so zombies slowly ambled along the road. The creatures would stop every so often to eat the wild flowers growing on the side of the road or to stare into the windows of the parked trucks.
There was never anything to see. The sixty-six people, the last of the refugees out of Estes, knew better than to peek out from beneath their blankets, even if they were stifling, and in some cases, gasping from the heat.
Grey was one of the latter and it wasn’t just the heat. The long chase coupled with his recent wounds had worn him down to the nub. The chase had been going on so long that he was just about numb.
“How the hell is she still going,” he mumbled, lifting the blanket slightly and trying to peer through the cracked window. The day before a zombie the size of a refrigerator had appeared out of the dark and pounded the glass with the meaty part of his hand. A single hit had sent cracks all through it. A second hit would have covered Grey in glass and rendered him vulnerable to even the smallest scratch, but, inexplicably, the beast had then tried to bite the glass and had done nothing but leave a greasy smear.
Just then, the closest zombie was a hundred yards down the hill and disappearing into the forest. He passed a hand across his sweaty forehead. “The coast is clear, finally.”
“Jillybean is crazy,” Deanna said, giving the simple answer to his question. “Crazy people can do impressive things because they’re fueled by…” She twirled a finger next to her ear. Deanna was far from numb, but not necessarily in a good way. Her love for Emily burned just as bright as it always had, however her hatred for Jillybean was an inferno that Grey could see quite clearly in her eyes.
“Maybe she finds it in her to keep going because she believes this is the right course,” Neil countered. Within the group, he was the girl’s only vocal cheerleader. Most of the others wouldn’t dare say a word crosswise to Deanna, who would more than likely lay into them with her acid tongue.
Before Deanna could make a rebuttal, and there definitely was one coming, Grey said, “Enough, you two, we’re supposed to be on the same side. We will keep going, find Jillybean and save our baby. That’s what we’re about.” As Neil and Deanna sat back, casting sidelong glances at each other, Grey rubbed his eyes and shook his head wearily as again the thought came to him: How the hell is she still going?
They had left Estes Park eight days before and had driven in an endless grind, through and over zombies, around car-eating potholes, down into new canyons where the road had once been, and across rivers that were nowhere on any map. Hour after exhausting hour they had driven and, as tough as they’d had it, it must have been hell on Jillybean—she was making the same trek, alone all the while watching over Emily.
Or that was their hope. Part of what had him numb was the idea that Jillybean was even crazier than Deanna suspected, and that maybe Emily’s tiny corpse was rolling around right then in the trunk of whatever car she was using. Whenever those sorts thoughts struck him, he died a little inside.
But Jillybean just kept going and going. He had been certain they would have found her broken down on the side of the road by then or perhaps snoring away in some cheap motel. And yet, the only sign of her were the daily notes that kept stringing them along. The last two notes had been rough. Two hundred and forty miles of going back and forth, and back again along a rutted road that had been seeded with zombies by carefully placed Bumble Balls.
Grey feared that a mutiny would take place if Jillybean sent them on another wild goose chase. “How much further?” he asked, pulling back onto the road.
Neil had the map, not that he knew how to use it properly. The only time he was really sure of their position was if they were traveling due west, then the map was perfectly positioned. If they were going in any other direction, he would turn the map back and forth as though it were the steering wheel of a car.
The odd little man squinted at the creased map. “Ten miles I think. It’s hard to tell. There hasn’t been a sign on this road since we got on it. Really, I don’t even know if this is the same road.”
“It is,” Grey said, tersely. He tried not to show his anger. He understood Neil’s position but it didn’t mean he liked it and, as long as Emily was not with him and Deanna, he didn’t much like Neil, either.
“Okay, then it’s ten,” Neil replied, with just as much ice in his voice.
It turned out to be closer to eleven and the last mile was an utter struggle. Grey couldn’t keep his eyes open, while next to him, Deanna lolled in a stupor. In the back, Neil was so tired he could barely keep the drone from falling out of the sky.
Grey was just beginning to think that Colton was an imaginary place, existing only in Jillybean’s head, when they crested a rise and looked down on the town, just as the little girl had done the day before. The view astounded him. The town was perfect. It was a jewel, an unexpected oasis of humanity. It looked almost as though the apocalypse had bypassed it completely.
There were overflowing farms, and herds of cattle, and flowers, and people, some of whom were in the fields and some in their yards and some simply walking down the road as if they didn’t have a care in the world. “Are you seeing this, Neil?”
“Yes, I am,” he answered in an awed whisper. “It’s just like Jillybean said.”
At the sound of the girl’s name, Grey frowned. “Keep an eye on your drone. I’m going to need a heads up if trouble begins to brew.” It didn’t seem likely there would be trouble. The people they passed had not gone running for cover or had scrambled for their guns. A few, mostly women, had hurried inside, but most had lifted a hand to wave.
Grey waved back and then glanced in his side mirror to see whether his people in the following vehicles were waving as well. Some were, while others had guns poked out their windows. “Deanna, have everyone stow their weapons. The town seems peaceful.”
“A little too peaceful,” Deanna remarked, before picking up the CB handset to broadcast Grey’s instructions. What she said struck a chord in Grey and if it hadn’t been for the way that Jillybean had talked about Colton: Perfect, but not right for us, he would have suspected that he was driving straight into the most sophisticated trap ever conceived.
T
o be on the safe side, he kept to the dawdling pace they’d been traveling at, and very slowly they caught up to a man in bib overalls walking a donkey down the center of the road. When they got close, the man, who looked to be about forty, turned and tilted the brim of a sweat-stained baseball cap in Grey’s direction as he shouldered the donkey off the road.
“Hi there,” the man said, pleasantly, nodding to Deanna and Neil. “You people doin’ some tradin’ or are you lost? That’s pretty much all we get way out here.”
“Actually, we’re looking for a baby,” Grey said.
The man was no poker player. His face went through a number of quick contortions before settling into an uneasy smile. His eyes, however were sharp and nervous as he gave Grey’s battle-hardened exterior a closer look. “You’re gonna want to talk to Sheriff Woods. Maybe I should bring you to him.”
He took off the baseball cap and gave the donkey a smack on its hindquarters to move it off the road and then, without asking, climbed into the truck to sit next to Neil in the back. Neil scootched over, asking, “Aren’t you worried about your mule?”
“It’s a donkey,” the man said, giving Neil’s mangled and scarred face an uncertain eye as if he didn’t know precisely how to talk to someone who looked the way he did. “And it ain’t mine, and why would I worry? You think it might come up missing?”
The uncertain look had given way to accusation. Neil was taken back by the raised eyebrow. “Uh, it might run away, I guess. But if you’re worried that we might take it, I assure you that won’t happen. I’m not even sure what you do with a donkey. You can’t eat them, can you?”
“You can, but why would you want to?” the man asked, back to being uncertain. He then tapped Grey on the shoulder. “You’ll wanna keep going on this road. It’ll lead you right where you want to go.”
The road led into the central part of a town that wasn’t just pre-apocalypse perfect, but also seemed as though it had been lifted straight out of the 1950’s. There was a drive-in theater that had seen better days, a malt shop, a crowded farmer’s market and perfectly clean streets. The man directed them to the post-office, where a number of trucks were parked.
A couple of dozen men were standing around the trucks. Most of them were armed, though not well; deer rifles or pistols; nothing that alarmed Grey. They didn’t react in the friendly way as the farmers on the outskirts of town had and Grey really hadn’t expected them to. Men were men, no matter where they were from or how they were raised, and when two groups, armed as they were, met, there was a process.
Or there usually was. Neil Martin sometimes didn’t act the part of a normal man. Grey had stopped the truck across the entrance to the post office parking lot. He and the sheriff gazed across the fifteen feet that separated them, sizing each other up. Woods didn’t wear a star pinned to his chest, but Grey knew him as the sheriff, regardless. He knew in the way he stood and in the way the others deferred to him, and in…
“Hello,” Neil said, cheerfully, breaking in on Grey’s thoughts. Without regard for the “process,” Neil popped right out of their truck with an extended hand. “You must be Sheriff Woods. My name is Neil Martin.” Woods took the hand, though he did so warily, casting a quick look Grey’s way to make sure Neil wasn’t trying to act as a distraction. Neil didn’t notice. He dropped the sheriff’s hand and then shook some of the others hand, saying, “Hi, Neil Martin, nice to meet you. Neil Martin…Neil, nice to meet you.”
“Can I help you, Mr. Martin?” Woods asked.
“They was askin’ about a baby,” the man in the baseball cap said. Neil’s pleasantries had diffused the usual nervous interactions of strangers, but with the statement, the tension between the two groups amped up. Guns were suddenly gripped with more intensity, while eyes began to shift back and forth.
Neil’s smile dimmed and the easy look he’d been wearing gave way to a hard stare. “We’re asking about a baby that was taken from her mother. Stolen, in fact. Clearly, you have information as to the child’s whereabouts.”
Woods nodded slowly. “I do, but I don’t know if it’s information I plan on giving out except to the mother of the child. You see, I don’t know you from Adam and from what I know of the situ…”
Deanna suddenly began to struggle, first with her seatbelt and then with the door. “I’m her mother!” she cried, bursting from the truck. “Emily is my baby. Where is she?” Woods turned to her, suspicion in his eyes. She saw the look and reared up. “Would you like to see my stretch-marks?” she challenged.
The fiery anger of a beautiful woman wasn’t something many men knew how to deal with. Woods backed away with his hands in front of him. “No, that’s okay. Maybe if you could explain what happened.”
“First, tell me that she’s okay,” Deanna demanded, striding forward. “Tell me my baby is…is good, that she hasn’t been hurt at all.”
The sheriff’s eyes shifted down for just a blink before he said, “She’s fine. She was given a checkup by our doctor just yesterday and according to her, Emily is healthy. There’s not a mark on her.”
Neil had caught the shifting eyes the same as Grey. “What aren’t you telling us?” Neil asked. “Has Jillybean left again?” Woods looked pained, which was all the answer Neil needed. He let out a long, tired breath and then sat down on the truck’s side runner. “Son of a gun, that’s it, isn’t it? When?”
“About four hours ago. We were supposed to be going to Ba…I mean, we were supposed to be going to a certain destination.”
“Bainbridge Island,” Neil said. “It’s okay, we know. Jillybean has been guiding us there, so to speak. She took Emily, knowing that we would follow and, to keep us safe, she’s been leaving us notes. The last one sent us here.”
Sheriff Woods listened, nodding along. “And the young lady who had been with her? What was her name?”
A shadow passed over Neil’s face and so Woods looked to Deanna, but she was also struck by sadness. Grey spoke up as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Sadie Martin. She was Neil’s daughter; same with Jillybean. Sadie had dark eyes, short black hair and usually dressed in a goth manner like the teens used to. From what Jillybean told us, you took them in and treated them properly the last time the two of them came through here.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Woods agreed. “Too bad she didn’t repay us in kind. A few of us were supposed to go to Bainbridge with her this morning, but she tried to blow up my truck. There was this bang from beneath it and the next thing I know, I couldn’t stop and ended up crashing.”
Neil glanced over at Grey and gave him a quick smile, saying, “I’d call that good news. The fact that she still hasn’t gone completely over, I mean. A little sane is better than the alternative.”
Woods thought this was preposterous. “Didn’t you hear me, she tried to blow up my truck. If she hadn’t mixed up the fuel line and the brake line, I’d be dead. Here’s what’s left of the detonator.”
He tossed a mangled unit of plastic, scorched copper wire and duct tape at Grey who caught it neatly. Grey gave it a glance and tossed it back. “If there’s one thing you should know about Jillybean, it’s that if she wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
Chapter 45
Captain Grey
“Jillybean just wanted you out of her way,” Grey said. “Trust me, she knows how to disable a car. Cut brake lines are unpredictable, they could go at the worst possible time, but a blasting cap connected to a radio detonator is precise. No one got hurt because she likes you.”
“Yeah, she’s a saint,” Deanna said with a sour, disappointed tone. “Did she leave a note or some directions?”
Woods, who looked rattled, shook his head. What Neil asked next, shook him even further. “What about with your daughter, Corina?”
“How the hell do you know about her?”
“Jillybean mentioned her a number of times. She said she was the sweetest girl she had ever met and all that. So, was there a note?”
Woods shook his head
a second time. “Corina would have told me. She doesn’t keep secrets.”
Neil had been smiling up at the tall sheriff and now he looked as disappointed as Deanna. “Can we see her? And maybe her room? Jillybean has left us a note at every one of these stops, we just have to find it.”
The sheriff was reluctant until Deanna went down on her knees and begged him. Embarrassed by the spectacle, he agreed. Only the three of them, plus Sheriff Woods, left to search for the note. Neil had Veronica prepare the rest of the group for some much needed sleep.
With fuel at a premium they walked the quarter mile. Grey found it good to stretch his legs, while Neil struggled. Although it had been six weeks since he had been shot, the previous eight days spent cooped in a truck had set him back and now he limped.
“We could have our doc take a look at that leg,” Woods said. “She’s a real doctor from before. We’re lucky to have her. I hear all sorts of crazy things from different groups. You know dental techs and nursing assistants and eight-year-olds trying to be doctors. You ever hear of anything like that?”
“Are you testing me, Sheriff?” Neil asked. He got a grunt of “maybe,” in reply. “Then, yes I know of an eight-year-old who is one of the best doctors left alive today. Perhaps that’s not saying much now, but she’ll only get better with time and practice.”
Woods made a face. “Not if she’s insane. There seems to be some sort of question concerning her sanity, and not just with you. Doctor Danahy prescribed her these.” He dug out a pill bottle and tossed them to Neil. “I was supposed to give them to her twice a day. You know what they’re for?”
Neil looked down at the bottle and shrugged. “Just a guess, but I suspect they’re supposed to treat the symptoms of psychotic conditions such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.” When Grey shot him a questioning look, Neil explained, “Jillybean showed me the bottle back in Estes and I looked it up, but it doesn’t seem like she’s taken any since then.” He opened it, shook one out and then grunted out a laugh. “These wouldn’t have done her much good one way or another. You sure your doc is all that good?”
The Undead World (Book 10): The Apocalypse Sacrifice Page 47
