The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“T-ball playoffs. Remember? Winner went to the World Series, loser was done.” The corners of her lips turned up a bit. “Right over there. Red All-stars against the mighty Blue team. You played third base, same as me. Remember now?”

A light came on. He chuckled. “Yes, I do. So that was you on the Red team?” He smiled. “They called you The Babe back then, didn’t they? Homerun queen?”

She laughed, and his day brightened. He’d have no trouble listening to that joyful sound every day for the rest of his life. He blinked. Wow, what a thought. But truth was truth.

“Poppy hung that one on me. But it came to me when I saw you trot back there, the same trot you rounded the base on when you hit that walk-off homerun that killed all our hopes.”

He hadn’t thought about that homerun in years. Two hundred and two feet down the left field line. His father bragged on him for months. “Well, didn’t matter much. We lost the first two games in Houston.”

“Maybe, but you got to go. We didn’t.”

“How come you quit playing?”

“Fast pitch softball. Only reason I played with you nasty boys was because the girls didn’t have t-ball.”

A shot rang out. Jackson reached for his pistol. Another one echoed. Two dudes on the bridge hid behind cars shooting at each other. One guy was running to get off the bridge, bicycle man peddled double time a good bit ahead of him. All the other men must have taken cover. Several quick bangs rang out.

Then the one on the Irving side charged toward the other man, firing and shouting.

The other guy stood, gripped his weapon out in front of himself with both hands, and pulled the trigger. The charging man grabbed his chest then slumped to the ground. Double-grip guy walked over and kicked the other man, then knelt beside him, obviously pilfering his pockets. Shortly, he stood and looked around then tucked his new extra gun into his belt.

Aria touched his arm. “Shoot him.”

“What? Who?”

“That guy. I recognize him. He’s one of those horrible bangers who killed my brothers, and probably Poppy, too.”

“It’s too far. Plus, if I shot at him, he’d know where we are.”

“Then follow him, track him down, and shoot him like the rabid dog he is.”

Jackson patted her hand. He understood how she felt, but he had to think about keeping everyone safe. “No, Aria. We stay right here until dark then we go north.”

She scooted away, glaring. McKenzie, crawling on her knees, drew close, and hugged her. “The Lord says vengeance belongs to Him. Don’t worry, He’ll take care of that guy, and all the others, too, who killed your family.”

Aria closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I know all that, but I want them dead now! They don’t deserve to live.”

“You’ve just got to forgive them, Aria, or the Lord can’t forgive you. That’s what the Bible says.”

Jackson kept one eye on the banger and one ear on his sister and Aria. All he needed was for the grieving girl to do something stupid. Man, things had gone totally insane; guys having a shootout right in the middle of Irving Boulevard. Which was worse? The gunfight? Or no one doing or saying anything about it?

Where were all the policemen anyway?

Did they have no sense of duty to keep some order?

Before the flash, cops would have arrived before the third shot, but now, the dead man’s family probably wouldn’t ever know what had happened to him. Much less who murdered him.

For a long time, McKenzie hugged Aria, then the girl must have dozed off or something. His sister laid her down and crawled to where he sat. “Thank you for not shooting at that guy.”

He nodded. “Thank you for helping her out.”

She shrugged. “What do you think? Will there be another hour or so before dark?”

“Maybe.” He checked the bridge. Seemed most of the activity had died down considerably. He looked back. “Mom took Irving Boulevard a lot, especially if the highway was clogged.”

“So?”

“I could be back before the sun is up.”

“No. What are you thinking, Jackson? You can’t leave us.”

“What if mom’s out there on the road? Trapped in her car or something? What if she wrecked when it all shut down, and she’s hurt? You ever think of that?”

She grabbed his arm, like she could hold him back if he decided to go. “Look, I wanted to stay home and wait for her. But you and Cooper outvoted me, so here we are—together. And we’re going to stay together. Understood?”

He figured she’d say that, but he hated being so close to downtown Dallas and not going to look for her. “Okay, but just as soon as I get us to Meems’ and Pop’s, I’m coming back.”

“She’ll beat us there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“That’s what I’ve been praying. If she’d left the day everything went down, she might already be there. Smart as she is, she’d know that’s where we’d head. Or maybe she did go home and find the note and is on her way there right now. That’s what you should be praying.”

He slipped his hand behind her head, pulled her close, and kissed her forehead, just like he’d seen his father do a thousand times when she or his mother got to talking religion. “I love you, McKenzie.”

She pushed him away. “You are not my father. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Fine, then you don’t be telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Don’t talk to me about praying again either. You got it?”

Aria couldn’t believe McKenzie didn’t want Jackson kissing her forehead. Her big brother telling her that he loved her. What was wrong with the girl? Or maybe the question should be what was wrong between the two?

Far as Aria was concerned, he could put his lips on her face anywhere he wanted any time. A part of her hated it that he didn’t shoot that banger, but she understood. He needed to get the kids somewhere safe. But he’d said he was coming back to look for his mom. She would just come with him.

After he got tired of looking, together they could take care of that whole gang.    

Jackson smiled at his sister. “Love you.”

“Do you? Really?”

“Of course, I do.” He stuck out his hand. How many times had one or the other of their parents made them makeup by shaking on it?

She gave him her dead fish shake then pulled her hand back. “I love you, too, but –”

“No buts. We can agree to disagree. Deal?”

“Fine.”

“Sir?”

Jackson looked from his sister to the nerd. “What is it?”

“I’ve been looking at this lunar chart, sir.” Al extended a piece of cardboard.

“Okay.” Jackson took it and studied it a minute. “Looks like we’ll have plenty of light tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Not a bad idea. Instead of just getting under Irving Boulevard then trying to find a spot to camp, maybe he should push on, eat up some miles by night and hole up during the day. At least until they traveled well out of the Metroplex. He handed the chart back. “So, who won the chess match?”

Al grinned. “Inconclusive. Currently, Cooper is two games up.”

“That would be two wins to none.” His brother smiled. “I’m skunking him.”

“Told you he was good.” Jackson turned his attention back to McKenzie. “Let’s eat something. We still have some time before dark. No fire though.”

“We don’t have much pork left.”

He shrugged. “We can finish it up and break out one of the army meals. That will have to do.”

Finally, he got everyone fed and back on the move. It’d been a good thirty minutes since he’d seen anyone on the road. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving McKenzie and Aria gasping at the sunset’s pinks, purples, and golds. Granted, it did create quite a sight, but sister always went overboard talking about God painting the sky.

Cooper and Boggs went first, then the others. One at a time, he sent them out with instructions to stop under the bridge. He brought up the rear. Once he caught up, he repeated the process to the first group of trees about a hundred yards or so on the other side.

A couple of miles north, he reached Carpenter Freeway and scanned the major freeway from Irving that traveled south to downtown and north to Carrollton. Other than all the crashed and dead vehicles—one had obviously gone through the barriers off the overpass—nothing moved. He decided to keep everyone together. The cover along the river didn’t play out until right before the bridge then picked right back up on the other side.

The high-lines stayed close to the water that bent around where the old Texas Stadium used to be. All he could make out was a tall crane. He’d never forget the day they imploded the landmark. One day the stadium stood proud, then it was gone, only a pile of rubble to be hauled away.

But not his childhood memories of his dad taking him there to watch the Cowboys play; he’d always have those.

Cooper had wanted to go watch it get blown up, but Mother wasn’t interested. The nationwide news channel played a video of the implosion, but it would have been way more fun to see it in person. Dad would have taken them. But mother couldn’t help being a girl. 

A bit after high moon—was that midnight? The nerd would know, but Jackson didn’t care enough to ask—the lines crossed over a raised railroad track. Right on the other side of that, they spanned a wide lake surrounded by heavy woods. “McKenzie, let me see the old man’s note.”

Handy as a pocket on a shirt, she retrieved it from her book. It appeared she was almost finished with that story. Had she brought another novel? Maybe he could find a bookstore or library somewhere along the way.

“Sis, look at this.”

She leaned close. “What?”

“I don’t remember this being there before, do you?” He touched the note.

“N on RR…Norman on Rough Riders? I don’t know. I don’t think so. That is so weird how it keeps changing, but what does it mean?”

“Everyone wait here.” He slipped off his pack and jogged back to the last pylon. The number matched. He returned. “Seems like from here we need to go north on the railroad tracks.”

McKenzie held her hand out. “What? Let me see the note.”

He pointed to the fourth row of numbers. “See there? That’s the last pylon’s number, and right after that, N on RR. Don’t you think it’d be more logical than Norman on Rough Riders? North on the railroad?”

She made that puckered face he hated.

Boggs, who had been staying right with Cooper, bolted, raced up the side of the tracks, then sat on his haunches and looked at him. Jackson couldn’t see for sure, but he’d bet the dog wore that funny grin he put on every time he was proud of himself.

Maybe he was a shift-shaping alien after all. Him and the old man, or maybe he was the old man. Jackson didn’t know, but why not? Weird couldn’t get any weirder, could it? Much as he might hate admitting it, someone somewhere obviously helped him. Maybe his dad had been killed and come back as a guardian angel?

No, not unless it happened after the flash. If before, he would have heard about it. Plus, his father didn’t believe in all that religious hocus pocus stuff anymore than he did.

“Let’s move it, people. We’re going north on the rails. Let’s hurry, but be careful.”

“Really, quit calling us people, Jackson. You sure about this?”

Pulling McKenzie a few feet away from the others, he put his mouth close to her ear. “No, but it feels right and…” He put a hand on each of her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Trust me; I think we need to follow the old man’s note.”

Her eyes widened. “So, you believe it is from the Lord, and He is guiding us.”

“I didn’t say that, but between the note and the dog, I can’t deny someone is. It could be Coop’s shape-shifter aliens as far as I know. That explanation’s about as logical as you declaring it’s God.”

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. “Yeah, right. But you’re thinking the railroad is part of the King’s Highway now?”

“Looks that way; leastwise, it might get us back to another part of it. I don’t know but N on RR seems clear enough to me.” He wanted to tell her about seeing the old man at the golf course, but of late doubted he really had. Might have been his eyes playing tricks on him. But what about the bags?

And Boggs. He saw him, too.

“Okay, I’m with you, big lug.”

Not needing her to accuse him of trying to be her father, he resisted the urge to kiss her forehead. Even if he did carry his father’s authority in that situation. Man, if only it could be his dad leading the little army instead of him. He smiled at that thought. Some army he had: two girls, a nerd, and his little brother.

Well, he did have the dog.

“Okay, Cooper, you and Boggs take the point.”

“Come on, fella.” The little boy started up the middle of the tracks stepping from crosstie to crosstie. It only took a blink of the eye before the dog immediately walked behind him. Jackson’s heart swelled. That kid was such a trooper.

For the next hour or so, the tracks cut through heavily wooded bottomland, then they reached a narrow asphalt road. If he held the map just right, he could read it in the moonlight. Seemed he’d reached California Crossing. Finally, he’d got them out of Irving. Not even a stalled car in either direction on this almost country-like road. He hurried everyone across.

The railroad then cut through what appeared to be an industrial district. Here and there in the distance, a fire flickered, but nothing too close. He liked traveling in the woods and their great cover even better, but following the tracks still beat going through neighborhoods. The note had kept him out of the populated areas so far.

The note.

What was he to think of that crazy, changing note? Who could be doing it? Who could know where those high-lines went and the best route to take? An electric company man? But why would some random man even care, much less spend the time to work it all out and get the information to them? And how would he know the destination?

Weird his sister had called it, and so it was.

Bizarre, peculiar, and baffling indeed.

He pressed them on. According to the map, it looked that on the other side of the next road, he’d be back into the Trinity’s bottomland. After walking way too far on crossties, he reached the edge of LBJ Freeway just as the moon neared the horizon. A nice patch of woods on either side of the ten-lane monstrosity offered a good place to stop.

Soon, he had them off the tracks and into thick cover again. Much better.

Cooper and Al slumped down and were asleep in minutes. Boggs lay down between the two. Jackson loved it that the dog had taken to Coop, almost like the animal took at least a part of the responsibility of the group’s smallest member off his shoulders or something.

He faced McKenzie. “You and Aria go ahead and get some rest. I’ll take the first watch.”

Before long, everyone’s breath had slowed, and all of his charges made various sleep sounds. He found a tree that he could lean against and see a small part of the raised freeway. He sat cross-legged and leaned back. In no time, he changed his position to one less comfortable.

With each breath, it got harder for him to keep his eyes open.

Finally, the soft glow of predawn lit the sky. The sun getting up over the treetops good helped, but man, he needed a nap, and none of the others even stirred. Boggs raised his head, looked at him as though assessing the situation, then belly crawled to his side. The dog positioned himself right next to his leg and stretched out his front paws.

The animal seemed to stare at the exact spot Jackson had been watching.

He patted the dog’s head. “Okay, I get it. You’re on the job.” He closed his eyes. “Thanks, boy.”

With every intention of only resting real quick, he fell headlong into a black hole, and fatigue sucked him deeper and deeper. A hand on his shoulder pulled him awake. The old man stood in front of him saying something, but Jackson couldn’t make it all out—not exactly.

Beware?

Of whom?

The old dude backed away a step and cupped his hands over his mouth. His lips moved but no sound came out. Jackson tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t or couldn’t work. He shook his shoulders. His eyes popped open. For a second, he thought he saw the anomaly in the shadows of the trees.

Then it was gone. Or had he even been there?

Boggs hadn’t moved, still laid next to him, head up and alert, ever watching. Jackson glanced at the sun, high overhead. He pushed himself to his feet and slipped a ways out to take care of some personal business. Man, what he would give for a hot shower and another hour or three in his own bed.

Circling around the still sleeping kids, he found a hidden spot with a good view of the freeway. A few folks moved along it, all carrying loads or pushing grocery carts or pulling little wagons. Felt good all over to stand. He worked the muscles in his shoulders then his back; hadn’t been this sore since early in the football season.

Thinking of sports made him sad. Would he ever play another game?

He didn’t see how.

Even if the Russians hadn’t invaded, how long would it take after one of those EMPs for things to get back to normal? And if the Ruskies really were responsible…oh, he couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not until he got the kids somewhere safe and found his mother.

He pondered on such.

Could he really do it? Get them to Honey Grove then find his mom if she wasn’t already there? Maybe that was all just wishful thinking? But if she wasn’t, if her parents hadn’t heard from her, should he really go back? How likely would it be that he’d ever find her?

And the strange old man….

What was he all about? Had the man tried to warn him against some future danger, or was Jackson’s mind only playing tricks on him? If only he could remember exactly what he’d said.

A peculiar feeling pulled McKenzie awake. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but whatever or whoever stared at her made her feel icky all over. She needed for them to stop. Her right eye opened just a fraction. Albert, on his side with his head propped up on one hand, lay only a few feet from her. He bore holes into her with his piercing brown eyes.

“Exactly what are you doing?” She kept her voice low, but hoped she put enough outrage in it for him to get the message