by Hunt, Jack
It was nonsense. Most of society were ordinary folk, reliant on the system. The system though flawed continued to operate, overcome and adapt to natural disasters, and that was why people trusted the government.
Heck, he’d gone to work for the government.
The tax dollars of California had paid his salary for years.
That was the reason why people would hunker down in the city when they should have been escaping it. That was the reason why people would die.
But not him, he knew better. Although his parents hadn’t sat him down and forced him to learn about survival, they had taught him enough to think outside the box and never work alone. That’s what had drawn him into becoming a K9 handler, that and his love of dogs.
Except this was no ordinary dog.
Kane thrived on having a job to do. It’s when he was most alive. Since he’d gotten Kane, fully trained, he’d never once let him down. Friends, they’d come and gone, some even stabbing him in the back, others taking him for a ride. Family, well, that was a whole other story.
“You know, I should have got myself one,” Daisy said as she sidled up to him, trying to keep up. “The amount of headaches it would have saved me…”
Kane stopped and went in a circle as if he’d lost Alicia’s scent, as though she’d figured out they were following and had done something to get the dog off her track. She hadn’t. The dog crossed to the sidewalk and in no time was back on the trail.
“She’s gone over the fence,” Colby said as they cut into an alley and made their way down to a steel barrier that was around six feet high. Daisy hopped over with all the ease of a gymnast and helped him get Kane over. The dog was known to jump high fences but one slip and he could have been impaled on this one.
They continued and turned right out of the alley and left on to Harvard Boulevard.
She was heading north. Where are you going? he thought. They picked up the pace and when they turned the corner onto 15th Street, they saw her. She wasn’t running, or even jogging. She must have figured there was no way in hell they could find her.
There was no desperation.
That soon changed.
“Alicia!” his voice cut into the noise of windows being smashed.
She cast a scared look over her shoulder but instead of taking off, which she knew would lead to Kane chasing her, she did a smart thing. There was a group of Asians and Latinos using baseball bats to smash up vehicles. She hurried over to them and although he didn’t hear what she said, he had a feeling he knew by her actions.
She lifted handcuffed wrists to them and then jerked her head in their direction. The group stopped what they were doing and began moving his way.
“Are you serious?”
He watched as she jostled her way through the group, using them as a barrier.
“I’m always up for a fight but not that many,” Daisy said.
“I agree.”
Without missing a beat they crossed the road and as soon as they were around the corner, both of them broke into a sprint going south down Harvard Boulevard. It didn’t take long to hear the sound of the angry mob.
He imagined Alicia had told them that he’d kidnapped her or was a cop — both were equally bad and having a dog with him and Daisy geared up in tactical only made it worse.
They sprinted, thighs burning.
They had a good fifty yards’ head start on the mob as they turned left, heading east on Cambridge Street. “That woman is pissing me off,” Daisy said.
“Welcome to my world,” he said. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d had to turn tail and run. There were many times in the LAPD that cops were outnumbered or outgunned. Pulling back was for their safety. “In here!” he yelled as they darted through a gate and plunked themselves down behind an RV. Colby kept a strong hand on Kane’s muzzle to prevent him from barking as the crowd raced by.
Someone batted the fence with a piece of metal, others hooted and hollered. Glass was broken, the smell of fumes from a downed plane filled the air. This was pure anarchy and some had waited their whole life for this. The nation was already teetering on the edge. Suicides had been up since the pandemic. People were losing their minds, losing their jobs, losing their family. There was little reason left to follow rules.
Of course, that wasn’t everyone. The peaceful of society would still toe the line, they would turn their nose up and balk at the thought that anyone would begin looting and killing, but that’s because they hadn’t witnessed the dark underbelly of the city. He’d seen it long before the blackout.
Some images from his previous work were hard to push from his mind.
“I bet she thinks she’s really smart,” Daisy said.
Panting hard, they took a moment to catch their breath. While sitting there he considered the pros and cons of chasing a suspect through the streets of L.A. Under any other conditions, it might have made sense but the city had been turned into a damn war zone.
“You know, maybe I should let her go,” Colby said.
Daisy balked. “What? Now?”
“Yeah.”
“And give up twenty grand?” Daisy asked. “Screw that!”
He offered her a confused expression.
“Twenty grand? He’s paying me eighty.”
“Eighty? That sonofabitch!”
It was a lot of money, a far cry from the low numbers they were used to. It only took a second for the penny to drop but then Colby realized. “He hired you to find her, didn’t he? He didn’t send you to help us.”
“No, he told me where you were.”
“Yeah, right before you agreed to bring her in.”
“A girl has to make her money.”
“Daisy, you slimy piece of crap.”
“Hey, you were about to get shot. This piece of crap saved your life.”
There was a pause as he mulled it over. There was nothing worse than being indebted to someone and Daisy was the worst. “So how were you gonna do it?”
“Do what?”
“Take her out from underneath my nose?”
“You know I wouldn’t do that to you, Colby.”
“You already did it once.”
“That was different.”
He looked around the corner of the RV. There was less noise. No one had passed by in the last few minutes. “Yeah, right.”
“I’ll share the finder’s fee. I get sixty, you get twenty,” Daisy said.
He laughed. “Like hell.”
“All right. I’ll take 50 percent.”
“Hell no.”
“You’re alive because of me,” she shot back.
“Fifty-thirty,” Colby said.
“C’mon! That’s daylight robbery.”
“He’s paying me more so that’s still more than he offered you.”
She grumbled. “Shit. All right, we have a deal. Anyway, how did you find her in the end?”
“How do you find your toilet in the middle of the night?”
She snorted as they got up and checked to make sure the road was clear. Colby took out the bloody rag and put it in front of Kane’s nose and without missing a beat, he was back at it, back in the game, hunting her down.
TWELVE
JESSIE
Humboldt County
The thrill of breaking the law gave a high that few drugs could offer. Law-abiding citizens, the judgmental, the pious would never understand it. How could they? They were governed by rules that perpetuated guilt. He felt none of that. From an early age, he and his brothers had grown up among the worst of society.
Crime was their baseline.
Their guiding light.
A default.
It was as normal to them as not lying on taxes was to law-abiding folk.
Jessie inserted the specially designed bump key into the lock, falling short of full insertion. A quick bump and the key pushed inward working its magic.
Within seconds the door was opened.
The beauty of it was when done rig
ht the lock wouldn’t even appear damaged. The specially designed key worked hand in hand with a pin tumbler lock. Without a key or with the wrong one inserted, the door wouldn’t open as pins would misalign, preventing the cylinder from turning. It was a marvel to behold every time — simple, and effective almost 100 percent of the time. Although security experts knew the threat and had been harping about the technique used by criminals, few people even knew it existed. Even fewer did anything about it.
Once inside, they crouched by the door, listening for movement.
The plan was simple.
They would each grab a cart – Dylan would handle the pharmacy while he and the other two went aisle to aisle and collected canned goods, pasta, rice, anything that could be stored for a while. Then if all went well, it was out the back door and within minutes they would be at Alby’s house.
Once the goods were required, they’d haul it back to the farm.
Jessie took out a small tactical light, clicked it on, and set the brightness to the lowest. He held down, using it only to guide them in the pitch black of the storage area. They were a few feet away from the loading area and could see pallets of boxes wrapped in stretch wrap. He wished they had a large truck. It would have made life easier.
They could have taken the whole damn lot.
After doing time that would have been like giving the town the middle finger.
Ray’s Food place was the only grocery store in Garberville, except for some health store. They’d been inside multiple times, they knew the owner, and they knew where to go.
Dylan streaked away into the darkness, heading for the pharmacy while each of them collected carts. “This is like taking candy from a baby,” Zeke muttered. No power meant no alarm and no security. When they entered the main store, Jessie switched off the flashlight and let his eyes adjust. They didn’t want anyone at the front of the building to see beams of light dancing around inside. “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they show up and see the shelves bare.”
“They won’t know,” Jessie said. “We’ll take what we can. Maybe do two trips tonight but that’s it. We’re not taking everything.”
“Why not? Who’s going to stop us?”
“Don’t be a fool.”
It wasn’t that he wouldn’t take everything. He cared very little for anyone in the town. What had they done for him or his family? Was he supposed to care just because he was part of this community? Screw them. He chuckled at the thought as he went down an aisle and swept armfuls of canned goods into the cart, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the front windows. One aisle over, Lincoln was opening packets and taking a bite. “Hey Jessie, try some of this,” he said before lobbing a packet of beef jerky over. He laughed.
“Stop messing around.”
“Ah, live a little. No one is here.”
Over the next ten minutes, they loaded up food and medicine, then carted it out. A glance to the north and south end of Locust Street and they were out, carting away four huge loads.
Although they knew Alby well they’d never been invited inside his home. He’d always come up to them. He’d have a meal, chat with their father, drink a little too much and take off on his ATV. “Anyone see you?” he asked as he opened the garage door and they rolled the carts in.
Jessie shook his head. “Not that I’m aware.”
“You get my meds?”
Dylan lifted a bottle and tossed it to him. Alby studied it and smiled.
“Gotta love it when the world goes to shit,” he said.
“It just went?” Lincoln replied, making a sarcastic remark.
Of course, the rattle of wonky wheels on aging shopping carts would have been heard by homeowners on either side of the road, but they’d covered up what they had taken using tarps they found inside the rear of the store.
Jessie ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “We’re going back for another load.”
“Hold on. Your mother said only once.”
“Well, my mother says a lot of things,” Jessie replied. “No, we only get one shot at this. By morning they’ll have that place locked down. I’m surprised it hasn’t already been.”
His brothers exited the garage. He had turned to leave when Alby placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jessie.”
“Yeah?”
“Your mother told me about what you did tonight. Trent. I know she was against it but I’m proud of you. Your father would be proud.”
That was the story of his life.
As kids, they were never applauded for the kinds of things other kids were – awards at school, involvement in after-school sports, or projects they brought home. No, praise was best kept for illegal activity. Being a lookout. Helping distribute black market weed. He couldn’t say it bothered him now but it did confuse him when he was young. Jessie had thrived from receiving small things like a pat on the head from a teacher, a “well done” when having his work returned to him. He’d seen other parents show up, hug their kids and congratulate them. Not his mother. She came from the school of hard knocks. His father had told him it was because their mother believed it made them soft and there was no room for that in their world.
No one special. No one gave you anything. You had to take or go without. That was her way.
But here he was getting praise for killing someone.
That kind of praise screwed a person up.
“Right,” Jessie said, walking away.
Back inside the store, they repeated the process. This time Jessie went into the pharmacy. He gathered up everything that would be of use not just medically but for bartering. Dylan helped. Next to food, medication was crucial. People could live without food for a while, they could adapt, fish, hunt, but medicine? That would be gold if the grid didn’t come back on.
“What was it like in the pen?” Dylan asked.
He glanced at him, holding a large bottle of headache tablets. He tossed them in the cart. “It had its moments.”
“Did uh…”
“No. You think I would let that happen?”
Dylan crouched and opened some boxes. He aimed his flashlight down, cupping a hand around the lens to prevent it from illuminating too much.
“You know things were hard with you inside.”
“How so?”
“Next to Colby, you were an anchor point. They relied on you. Father. He drank a lot more.”
“And that was different from?”
“Things changed between them, Jessie. Mom and dad, I mean. I don’t know what happened but she stopped sleeping in the same room. Rumor has it that she was in talks with the Stricklands.”
“Bullshit. She hates them.”
“Or maybe that’s what she wants us to believe. Do you believe what she said about Trent?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I know I don’t believe her. Though I just can’t figure out what her end game is if she was responsible. Around here that’s an act of war.”
The last time a Riker had killed a Strickland member was ten years ago, and the events of that night had made both sides rethink and pull back. That’s why it puzzled them that Trent blamed his mother for the death of Ryland. That would have been akin to tossing a grenade into the enemy’s camp.
Zeke appeared at the counter.
“Jess. We got company.”
Bright lights flooded the front of the store, and they heard the guttural growl of engines.
Working ATVs.
That could only mean one thing — the Stricklands.
While a large number of them lived in Garberville, they still owned two farms on the mountain and a store in town. Having a cousin in the sheriff’s office would not only benefit their business operations but it would put a dent in the Rikers’. There was no time to move the carts so they left them in the aisles and made their way to the rear.
As they entered the storage area, a bright floodlight lit up the room and the sound of guns racking could be heard. All of them swung up their ri
fles, turning, back to back as they found themselves penned in by multiple Strickland family members, all of them armed. “Put it down!”
“Hell no,” Jessie said, preparing to squeeze off a round.
All of them were yelling at each other. Shifting, turning, guns aimed at heads.
Many were there: Derek, Marco, Seth, Donnie, Jared, even several of their sisters, Ruby and Faye, and their cousin Nina. It didn’t take long for others from the front of the store to make their way to the back.
Obviously, someone had seen them and told the Stricklands.
There were a tense few seconds as they each stared down barrels.
As much as the Stricklands could have wiped them out right then, they knew they couldn’t do it without losing a few of their own. It would have been a blood bath.
Luke Strickland walked in, all cocky swagger. A green bomber jacket, a tight black shirt, and buzzed hair. He could have been mistaken for an ’80s skinhead. A cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was six foot, built like an NFL player, with huge shoulders and a tapered waist. A good-looking kid that had left town for a few years to pursue a career in the army. He wanted to shoot shit up and act all macho. That was until they gave him an other than honorable discharge. No one knew the exact details but enough people had heard him gripe about the military not paying him any benefits. Still, that didn’t stop him from walking around acting like he was some old war hero. The idiot hadn’t been deployed once.
He was a few years older than Jessie. Thirty-seven. They’d crossed paths many times. The last was at a bar two weeks before he went inside. It was the reason why he got arrested that night. Words exchanged. A lack of respect. They’d ended up in a brawl outside, neither one getting the better of the other. Maybe that’s why he hated him so much. It was like trying to fight himself.
Rumors had floated around that Luke had gotten a little too friendly with his then-girlfriend. Some called it rape. Others said it was consensual. He didn’t buy any of it but the girl he was dating left town. Jessie had grabbed his rifle and was on his way to find out the truth when he was arrested.
