The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

Why hadn’t she come home?

Racking his brain on what he was going to do if she didn’t, he stared into the darkness. He wanted to go look for her, but knew it was more important to stay with McKenzie and Cooper.

They were his responsibility now.

The last thing he wanted was to drag those two around anywhere. But if Mom didn’t come home soon, he’d have to do something. With each option, he ran the what-ifs as many moves forward as he could, just like in a chess game or something, but every scenario always seemed to end in checkmate.

A scream woke him.

Heart racing, he jumped up and found the door. His hand wiped the wall until he found the light switch. He flipped it, but it still didn’t work. He stood perfectly still, holding his breath. Though straining hard to listen, he couldn’t hear anything else.

Adrenalin outmaneuvered his sleep fog, and after getting his bearings, he realized the scream had at least come from outside the apartment.

The booming in his chest slowed. He swallowed and felt his way into the living room where he found a candle and matches then lit it. His little brother still slept curled on the couch. He checked to make sure the deadbolt was locked then made his way to his mother’s room and eased the door open.

The lump in the bed made the little sounds that usually drove him crazy, but on this night, reassured him.

Had he really even heard someone scream? Could it have been a dream? He felt the wall back to his room, but never could get back to sleep. At the first bit of light brightening the day, he rolled out again and went to the living room window. Sitting next to it, he watched his neighborhood come alive again.

The second day proved harder. The water stopped running mid-morning; then before the macaroni cooked soft enough, the gas stove sputtered out. He covered the pan and let it sit a while, then strained it and added extra butter and milk since it would spoil soon anyway. McKenzie cut up some smoked sausage to go in the mac-and-cheese.

Turned out to be a pretty good lunch.

The last bit of light faded that evening with no sign of his mother. Keeping quiet about it, Jackson refused to give voice to his fears, but it sure seemed to him that something must have happened to her.

Thinking about it soured his stomach. He made himself not dwell on it. No doubt, she should be home by then though.

Walking the fifteen or twenty miles from downtown Dallas to Irving shouldn’t take her that long. The summer before seventh-grade football, he and his father jogged ten miles early every morning. Dad had told him the military considered three miles an hour a forced march. Even at two, she could have been home the first evening.

A whole extra day had gone by.

The second night, another scream—this time followed by a gunshot—woke him. He jumped out of bed and eased to his window, but couldn’t see anything but blackness.

“Jackson? That you at the window?” Her voice sounded scared.

He turned around. A McKenzie-sized shadow stood in his doorway. “Yeah, go back to bed.”

“Was that a gunshot?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but it was pretty far away.” He didn’t like lying to her but –

“Can I stay in here with y’all?”

“Sure; get in bed with Coop.”

With no more gunshots or screams that night, Jackson managed to doze, but woke again before the sun rose on day three. Soon as it was light enough outside and folks started moving about, he left his siblings sleeping and slipped out. The old man with the windup watch sat in a lawn chair outside his ground floor apartment.

With a hot dog swaying on the end of a straightened coat hanger, he roasted his breakfast over a small fire.

“Good morning, sir.”

The old guy glanced up then back to his wiener. “Morning, son.”

“Any news?”

He shrugged. “Guy three buildings down got shot dead last night over a bottle of hooch.” He pulled back his jacket revealing a holstered pistol. “Best arm yourself if your dad left any guns in the place. Things are getting bad.”

Jackson nodded. “Yes, sir, good idea.”

The old man pulled the hotdog back and looked it over. “Your mother get home?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“Guy I know says the grocery stores are all empty, pharmacies, too. Fires are burning all over the place. If I was young like you and had any place to go, I’d get far away from here before the crazies go totally bonkers. It’s only going to get worse.”

Jackson didn’t know what to say. Seemed to him the old man was right, but where could he go? After another guy wandered up, he headed back upstairs and pulled out the little grill Mom kept in the hall closet.

Filling it with charcoal, he stepped out the back door then lit it up. The complex had rules about cooking on the balconies, but he didn’t care. What were they going to do? Kick him out? Besides, he wasn’t too eager to be out in the yard with his food, and all the meat in the refrigerator needed to be cooked before it spoiled.

That evening after he wasted a gallon of water trying to flush the toilet that refused to be flushed, he decided to heed the old man’s advice.  

Mid-morning of the fourth day, Jackson unfolded the map he’d found in his mother’s room and spread it out on the coffee table. Real quick, he ruled out traveling by the highways or through any heavily populated areas. Had to find a way east and north passing through the least number of people.

McKenzie and Cooper, who had been playing cards, wandered in. Coop flopped on the couch. His sister stood at the table’s end and stared.

“What’s with the map?”

He looked at her for a minute then shrugged. Dad always said if you had something hard to do, sooner was always better than later. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“We cannot go anywhere, Jackson, not until mother gets home.”

“Kenzie, it’s been four days. She wouldn’t want us to stay. Not the way it is. Not with what’s going on here.”

She glanced at Cooper then back to him. “You don’t know that. And exactly where were you planning on going?”

He resisted the urge to debate exactly what his mother would or wouldn’t want. Neither did he intend to speculate on what had happened to her. “Meems’ and Pop’s.”

“Get real, Jackson. That’s like a million miles away. How do you think…what are you…?”

“It’s only a little more than a hundred to be more specific. I’m figuring we can make it there in two weeks.”

Shaking her head real slow, she pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. He hated those smirky expressions, and his sister was without a doubt the master of smirk. She sank into the oversized chair she counted her own. “No. Way. You’re crazy to think we can make it in two weeks. We need to stay put. Mom will get here soon, and she’ll know what to do.”

“No, Sis. We can’t wait any longer. We’ve got to go.”

She closed her eyes and worked her jaw, gritting her teeth. “We have to stay. If we leave –” She opened her eyes and sat forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “We may never see our mother again.”

He hated hearing her say what he’d been thinking, but the tough decisions fell squarely on his shoulders now. The oldest, he was responsible for them.

“We don’t know that. But what I do know is that we cannot stay here. The goons are getting worse by the day, and there’s no law, McKenzie. It’s my job—in Mom and Dad’s absence—to keep you and Cooper safe. You know that’s true. You’ve heard them say it. I’m in charge.”

She looked toward Cooper who listened, wide-eyed, to the altercation. The tears still ran down her cheeks. “Please. Let’s wait another day or two, give her a chance. The lights could come back on any minute now.”

“Think about it. It isn’t just the electricity. The cars. The phones. Nothing is working. Have you looked around, McKenzie? There’s smoke everywhere because looters and the crazy people are burning everything down, just because they can. The old man said the grocery stores are empty.”

“But…”

“No buts. We’ve got to get to Meems’ and Pop’s. We can’t stay here. We’re leaving tonight soon as it’s dark.”

She wiped one cheek and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s vote on it. I vote stay.” She looked to Cooper. “What about you, Bubba? How do you vote?”

“I’m with Jackson. It stinks here, Sisser. I want to go to Meems’ and Pop’s.”

She slapped the chair’s arms. “Oh, you two! It isn’t fair! You boys always stick together.”

“Okay, then. It’s settled. We leave as soon as it’s dark.” He picked up the map and worked it until the folds fit back perfectly. “Backpacks only. No more than one change of clothes. Pack mostly food, and leave room for a water bottle, too.”

McKenzie drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She hugged herself into the smallest ball possible that it seemed she could. If only Dad were there. He’d know exactly what to say to her. Jackson never figured out how, but some way or another his father could always get through to her.

But an ocean away, he was no help. Jackson mostly wanted to slap her all the time.

Was Dad even alive? Or either of his parents? Would he ever know?

He scooted to the end of the couch and put his hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry, McKenzie. I am, and I love you.”

She nodded. “I love you, too, you big lug.” She looked into his eyes. “Jackson, have you thought that it might be Armageddon? The end of the age?”

“No way. And don’t start that stuff. We’ve got to stick together.”

“I know, and we will, but I don’t like it. I think we should wait, and I’m praying for God to tell you that.”

“Well, I hope you don’t hold your breath. The food is running out. The water won’t last another day. The toilet quit flushing. And there’s been two murders right here on Tudor Lane that I know of. We can’t wait any longer.”

She unfolded her arms and put her feet back on the floor. “Can I at least leave her a note?”

“Of course. Tell her where we’re headed and when we left.”

She made a face at him like she knew all that. “Really?”

The last bit of daylight silhouetted the tree tops; Jackson sat by the window watching. With the time to go almost there, he really didn’t want to leave either. But no matter how he tried, he could not come up with a better plan. Way he saw it, his options had all run out. If he stayed, they would all be dead—or worse.

Once the autumn day finally died, he slipped out the back door. He closed his eyes and listened for a moment. An eerie quietness hung on the still, cool fall air. He whistled softly. McKenzie eased out holding Cooper’s hand. Each carried a loaded backpack. Jackson led them quietly down the stairs, one step at a time.

He walked straight to the wall, hugging it with his full length, giving his eyes time to adjust if they would. He might as well keep them closed. The darkness was blacker than black. Before stepping into the four-plex’s small courtyard, he stopped and peeked around its corner. A bonfire raged a couple of blocks down on his right. Several folks milled around it.

The useless cars and trucks blocked a good view. He scanned the sky but couldn’t make out anything. Either there was no moon yet, or it was sufficiently overcast to hide it. He hoped it wouldn’t rain before he could get them to shelter, but then they could probably find an abandoned car to stay dry in.

Would the rain be radioactive? He’d heard something about that somewhere; in science or maybe on
The Discovery Channel
. Should have listened more closely, but then again, he had no idea if it really was a nuke that caused the flash and turned his world upside down.

His eyes did adjust a little, maybe because of the bonfire, but he could at least see some shadows against the blackness. Glancing behind, he made out his sister and brother. No matter how much he wanted to run—which was exactly what he would’ve done if alone—he forced himself to walk slowly across the street.

McKenzie held his right hand—without asking, she’d just taken it—and Cooper walked beside him on his left, so close that he brushed him every few steps. Reaching the far building, he pressed against it and allowed himself his first full, deep breath since stepping out of the apartment.

Even in the dark, he found the chain-link fence that separated his complex from the school’s property. Wasn’t like he hadn’t walked the path a thousand times in the three years he’d gone to Lamar Middle School. That year, he’d moved up and loved high school, even though being a freshman meant taking a lot of smack.

Hmm, would he ever walk the halls at Nimitz again?

Without words, he led them across the football fields. He didn’t see anyone or much of anything though his eyes could distinguish a little better as he went. More than just shapes at least, still no details though. Stopping at the big cedar guarding the field’s far end, he searched Helmet Street in both directions best he could.

Like all the lifeless cars and trucks that littered the neighborhood sitting exactly where they died four days ago, nothing moved. Across the road, the houses started.

He pulled his siblings in close. “I’m thinking the drainage ditch is our best bet.”

“Aw, that nasty ditch? Really?”

Cooper put his mouth to Jackson’s ear. “I’m thirsty.”

He pulled his two-liter bottle of water from his backpack then held it while both his siblings each took a quick swig. After wetting his own whistle, he screwed the lid back on tight. “Come on, the gate’s down here.”

Hating being in the open at all, he led them to the drainage ditch then helped his sister into the dry concrete waterway. She assisted him, easing Cooper down next. The familiarity of the old concrete channel comforted him. The city had installed it a few years back where the creek used to be, and he and his friends had skateboarded all through the hoods in it.

Once a few months back, he even rode an inner tube down its length after a big rain. Good thing Mom never found that out. She’d have a heart attack.

He took off with his siblings on his heels through the dark drainage ditch, thankful for the cover it allowed. At a gentle turn in it, twigs and leaves breaking ahead stopped him cold.

One of them bumped into him.

“Sorry.”

He shushed her, plugged one ear with his finger, and cupped the other hand behind his open ear. Barely breathing, he turned one way then another. He could swear he’d heard what sounded like footfalls, but maybe it was only a cat. He hated being on edge every minute. Moving forward again, he walked in a crouch. “Stay low.”

Bent over at the waist, he slinked along, hoping his profile wasn’t visible.

“Hey, Fish.”

Before Jackson could place the voice, a shadow jumped into the culvert right in front of him. It hit him. “What’s up, Bucky?”

“That’d be Mister Hornbuckle to you, Fish.” The third-year freshman stepped closer. “You don’t get by unless you pay the toll.”

Of all the people in the whole wide world, it had to be Alex Hornbuckle standing in his way shooting off his mouth.

McKenzie put her hand on Jackson’s back and spoke over his shoulder. “What toll?”

“It’ll cost a beer for each one of you; I’d go two for one on your two little snot noses. Or a pint of whiskey would do.” He snickered. “And if you goody-two-shoes ain’t got no alcohol, I’ll take all the food you’re carrying.”

Jackson slipped his hand behind him and gently pushed his sister back. “I’m not giving you nothing, Bucky. You best get out of our way.”

Just then, either by providence or coincidence, a little ray of moonlight shone down on Hornbuckle, gleaming off a blade in his hand. He held it out in front of his chest slicing the air, threatening Jackson. “Well, Fish, you either pay up or it’ll cost you everything you got.”

A righteous rage rose in his gut. The bigger boy stepped closer. Jackson dropped his right shoulder freeing his backpack. He reached across his body, bent at the knees, grabbed the pack and swung. Hard. Aiming high. It slammed square into Hornbuckle’s head. The sound of a jar breaking and the bullseye hit thrilled his heart.

The boy staggered back and leaned over. Blood stained his white face when he looked up. He stopped himself from falling forward with his hands on his knees.

Like kicking a football, Jackson drove his boot toe into the bully’s chest. The blow straightened him up then reeled him backwards. Jackson stepped forward and impelled his fist into Bucky’s nose. The troublemaker stumbled. His hind end and head hit the concrete with successive thuds.

Jackson quickly relieved him of his knife. The stunned boy probably never even knew what happened. With his foot on Hornbuckle’s neck, he held the point of the blade in the loser’s left nostril. In the moonlight, the terror in the bully’s eyes so satisfied his anger.

McKenzie grabbed his free arm. “Don’t kill him, Jackson!”

He looked back at his sister. “You take Cooper on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

She only hesitated a few seconds. “Come on, Bubba.” She took her little brother’s hand and did exactly as he instructed.

Jackson leaned closer to his enemy’s face. He poked the tip of the blade into Hornbuckle’s nostril. “Don’t even think about following us. I won’t let you off so easy if I see your ugly mug again. You hear?” He withdrew the weapon, folded it and stuck it into his back pocket. “Thanks for the knife, Bucky.” Removing his foot off the older boy’s neck, he backed away, watching him.

His enemy lay there making no attempt to get up. Jackson figured all the fight was gone out of him. He sidestepped and retrieved his backpack. Just like his father had told him, if you have to fight, use anything you have handy as a weapon. Don’t bluff. Don’t even talk. Wait for an opening then strike hard. And don’t fight fair. 

Trotting after his siblings, he caught up quickly and moved them along at a good pace again. Hardly any time passed before he led them under Shady Grove Road. He hated leaving the ditch, but it turned east, and he intended to go south through one last neighborhood before he could get them to the Trinity River bottoms.

He wanted to check his map again, but had to trust his memory. He climbed out, keeping low, and checked both ways. Nothing moved. McKenzie hoisted Cooper up to him, then Jackson gave her a hand. He used the dead cars and trucks as cover, moving east a short distance. At the first street into the neighborhood, he turned south.