The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

Holding the screen door open, he nodded at the others waiting in the front yard. “Come on in. They’re not here.”

“There isn’t any food in the cart. Mostly bathroom stuff, and some pillows and blankets. Anything left in there?” McKenzie hefted the wide-eyed baby onto her hip.

“Not much.”

Cooper handed the rifle back. “Want me to look in the barn?”

“We’ll do that together. Al, you and the girls check out the house. See if there’s anything we can use. The cart will come in handy.”

The nerd nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The barn had been rummaged through. Most of Pop’s hand tools were gone, but the tractor and his old farm truck sat exactly where they were the last time Jackson had seen them.

“Where are they?” Coop hung his head. “I was so sure they’d be here.”

Jackson looked to his brother. “Me, too, Bubba, but I don’t have a clue what happened to them.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out.” He looked away, wanting to cuss or kick something, but instead, he walked out and looked back toward the south. The high-lines weren’t visible, but he knew where they were. “Let’s go see what the girls found.”

Cooper ran ahead toward the house, but the dog hung back. Jackson scratched his head and the animal looked up. A gloom settled over Jackson like one of Meems’ heavy quilts. He’d done what he said. He’d got everyone there safe, against all the odds, even the three extras. But then what?

He shook his head and stared at the Pyrenees. Bogg’s big black eyes seemed to hold understanding and sympathy. “So how about it, boy? What do you think comes next?”   

He plodded toward the house.

Jackson, what now?

That question played and replayed in his head as he surveyed the meager bit of stuff Al and the girls had gathered that might be of some use. He picked up a baby spoon from the small pile of goods on the kitchen table. “I remember this one.” He grinned at McKenzie. “You didn’t want anyone using your special spoon but you.”

She shifted the baby then held her hand out palm up. “Still don’t, except Baby Gracie can; I got it for her.” She turned to the smiling baby and spoke in a high goo-goo tone. “Cause you have a itty bitty mouth, don’t you, precious one? Yes, you do, and you can use my wee baby spoon because I love you.”

Jackson shook his head and handed it to her. “Okay, but I think you should talk regular to the child. You don’t want her growing up talking like an idiot, do you?” He waved at the table. “And really, I don’t see much else worth the weight.”

“Well, sir, we deduced that if we utilize the cart, we could carry a bit more; make Gracie a bed on top of the goods.” He scrunched his shoulders. “And…bearing our packs’ weight would become superfluous.”

A no formed, but Jackson didn’t speak it. Maybe he should employ the cart; but was that stealing? Doing exactly what those looters had been doing? Taking stuff that didn’t belong to him even if its thieving owners abandoned it?

“I guess I’ll have to think on that.”

“What’s to think about? You haven’t been taking a turn; Gracie gets really heavy after a while, especially when she’s asleep. She can’t walk.” His sister looked across the table to Aria. “Tell him.”

She nodded. “That’s true, but where are we going anyway? If this is your grandparents’ place; I mean this was where you were coming the whole time. I don’t understand why we just don’t stay here.”

He shook his head. “No, we need to find somewhere better. There’s water here alright, but not much else.”

The back door burst open. Cooper and his big white shadow rushed in. “Jackson!” His little brother was breathless. “Where’s the key?”

“What key? To what?”

“The storm cellar. The door’s locked, and there’s two holes in it. Looks like bullet holes, like someone shot it!” He looked at McKenzie. “Or maybe the aliens made ’em with their eyes.”

“Pop never locked the cellar door.” Realization hit Jackson. His stomach rolled, and his heart flipped.

His grandparents…they were in the cellar, rotting like that other old couple. Glancing at McKenzie, he figured she thought the same thing from her sour, sad expression. He searched his memory. The key. The key. Where would it be?

As much as he hated the notion, but if it turned out to be the truth, they deserved a decent burial. He owed them that and so much more. Man, he hated being in charge. Hated having to always man up; do whatever had to be done. “Fan out, people; we need to find that key.”

For too long, Jackson searched for it, but like the needle in that pesky haystack, it eluded him. While he looked though, another thought struck him. What if Pop had the key with him? What if he didn’t want anyone to get in there and find them? No, Jackson needed to know for sure. He’d take an axe to the door if that’s what it took.

His grandparents deserved to be laid to rest properly, and the family cemetery wasn’t that far. He’d be glad to have the cart after all, at least put it to use for a while. He hated funerals. He’d been to so many services there over the years, too. Mostly old aunts and uncles he barely knew. And one cousin who died still in his teens when the car he was working on fell on him.

That was the worst one.

It might take a couple of days, but he would dig their graves good and deep. And have McKenzie read some scripture and say a prayer or something. He shook his head. Shame he couldn’t enlist anyone closer to a chaplain than his thirteen-year-old sister. Hey, make the best of a situation and use what he had; that’s what he had to do.

The best he could. No one expected more.

Searching the house a while longer, he soon ran out of places to look. Seemed to him the time had come to find that axe and get to chopping. As he walked to the barn, he tried to remember if he’d noticed an axe. Didn’t recall seeing one at all; only mind photos he could conjure showed empty table tops and wall pegs where Pop’s tools should have been.

All those cool old hand tools pillaged by the likes of that couple he’d come up on earlier.

He stepped inside and let his eyes adjust; then it hit him. The truck! Pop kept an extra set of keys in a little box with a magnet that he stuck under the front fender. He kneeled beside the tire and felt up under the metal’s edge. There it was. He pried it off then slid the box open. Instead of a set of keys inside, he discovered a folded piece of paper.

He dug it out and unfolded it.

‘Ha! Thought I hid my keys here, did you? Best jump through the worm hole; see if you can find ’em there. Pop’

A ray of bright light peeped through his dark mood. He could just hear Pop saying it. And it bolstered hope in his heart. He shook his head and grinned. Just like him to be joking around. A heavy weight lifted. Looked like his grandfather wasn’t dead in the cellar after all; more than fine with him.

He hurried to the spot where he and Pop always dug their fishing worms under the rabbit hutches. Sure enough, a mason jar rested just under the surface. That was a great sign.

Heading straight for the cellar, he stopped long enough to scan the farm all around to make sure no one was watching then opened the door. No odor. Excellent. He eased down the four steps into the fair-sized concrete room. An oil lamp rested on the table between two straight back chairs on the side wall.

A box of kitchen matches lay next to it, and under that, a piece of notebook paper.

He rested the rifle against the far chair, then lit the lamp and immediately knew why they’d left it locked. The cellar was stocked full with all kinds of great stuff. Like the shelves of a small grocery store. He chuckled. Who would have thought Pop was a prepper?

Naw, must have been Meems. Jackson would get the girls down there and see what they needed. He held the paper up in the soft light.

‘Blessings, dear family. Glad you found the key. We stayed a little longer than a week, but Pop decided it was best to leave, so we’re headed to Uncle Roy’s farm. Hope to see you there. Take whatever you can use, then leave Pop’s note under the fender and put the cellar key back in the worm bed. Love and hugs, Meems’ 

They were alive! He’d barely missed them, too.

Blowing out a deep breath, he let the news wash over him. They’d gone to Uncle Roy’s farm; that was what? An hour away? Couldn’t remember exactly, but it wasn’t that bad. Just farther east. He grabbed the rifle then hurried out. At the top step, he whistled the three-note tune his father used to call him and his siblings.

Boggs showed first; then Cooper followed with the others.

He nodded toward the cellar.

“What’d you find?”

“Check it out; they left us all kinds of good stuff.”

Cooper scooted past him. McKenzie, with Gracie on her hip, followed. “Praise the Lord. I thought…” She didn’t finish, and he figured he knew why. The nerd and Aria stopped next to him. “Sir, is there room for all of us down there?”

“Sure, it’s big for a storm cellar. Pop built it himself.”

“Aria, come look!” His sister called from the shadows. “Meems left us baby formula and real diapers and plastic pants and even some jars of baby food. This is great!”

Al descended into the cellar. The beauty smiled at Jackson and put her hand on his forearm as she eased past. A tingle ran up his arm down to the pit of his stomach. He looked to the dog. “You coming in or not?”

Boggs turned his back then sat down, like he’d assigned himself to guard duty. Jackson ruffled his fur and bent to give his thick sides a series of hearty pats. “You’re a good dog. No, a great one!” Then he joined the others, too. They’d spread out, examining all the stuff that rested on the shelves that lined every wall.

His sister looked around. “So where’s Uncle Roy’s farm again? I remember going once, but –”

“Outside Clarksville, east of here.”

Aria turned toward him holding up a Ball jar of Meems’ home-canned peaches. “How far is that? You’ve been there, right?”

“A couple of times.” He grinned. “Less than an hour if we could take Pop’s truck.”

“Very funny.” McKenzie shook her head. “And by our new standard of travel?”

“I’m thinking around sixty miles; maybe forty-five or fifty, but we’ll check the map. It’ll take us at least a couple of days.”

She tapped on the baby’s chin and used that silly voice of hers. “Well, hadn’t we best get going then? Huh? Yes, we should. Isn’t that right?”

“No, Googoo Gaga Queen. I think we ought to all get some rest and start out again tonight.”

“Oh, come on, Brother. We’re so close, and I want to see Meems.”

“I’m fine to push on, sir.”

“What about you, Aria?”

She looked tired, but smiled. “I’ll be fine. I can make it.”

He’d like to rest from traveling himself, maybe even spend the whole night there, sleep in a bed, but it might be smart to go ahead and press on to Uncle Roy’s, especially since Pop considered it the thing to do. With more than five hours of daylight left, he might even add three more days to the journey.

If everyone else wanted to go… “Okay then. I’ll bring the cart around, and y’all can pack it up.”

It amazed him how little effort it took to pull the cart. The looters had run off and left it on his grandparents’ property. Guess that made it theirs, so he’d decided he could take it as his own. Wheels looked like a bicycle’s and the tires still held air. Sure didn’t make any sense to leave it.

Once loaded and having checked the map, Jackson returned the Mason jar with the key and the metal box with Pop’s note to their hiding spots. He then gave the old home place one last look over, hoping it wouldn’t be long before he’d see it again. He’d always loved picturing his mom growing up there.

Maybe they could all come back together.

Or would that ever be possible?

The longer he lived in this new world of no electricity, no transportation, no stores, and so much lawlessness and disorder, the less likely it seemed that things would ever be back to the old normal.

He shook off the morose thoughts; had to keep going and get his people to safety. Hopefully, that meant his great-Uncle Roy’s ranch.

Surely they’d be there.

He handed Cooper the rifle and grabbed the cart’s handles. “I’ll take the first turn. Let’s head back toward the high-lines.”

Little Gracie sat up in the cushioned spot the girls had fixed up for her with feather pillows and Meems’ quilts in the oversized stroller. She fussed some but soon quieted down once he got to rolling. She smiled and giggled and looked all around, talking her own special gibberish.

“See? She loves riding.” Aria put her hands together under her chin and talked with the silly voice. “You do, don’t you, sweet baby?”

What was it with girls? The little one sucked in air and clapped with the dark-skinned beauty.

McKenzie waved and spoke like she was six months old herself. “Yes, she does! Hi, sweetie. You love not having to be carried, don’t you, peep?” She nodded to Aria and raised her eyebrows. “But not as much as we enjoy it, right?”

The girls laughed together. Everyone’s spirits were light again, even after the disappointment of Meems and Pop not being there and having to go farther. That alone lifted his spirits. Renewed hope…such a good thing.

The gravel road took them to the King’s Highway. Why the old man had called it that remained a mystery. Didn’t guess it mattered though. Jackson liked the name well enough. Once off the road, the going got harder, especially pulling the cart across the farm fields that had been recently plowed. After what he figured to be an hour or more, he stopped.

Gracie whimpered once then snuggled back into her soft bed for a nap. McKenzie covered her with a light blanket. “I’ll take a turn now.”

“Good, I was about to suggest that.” He grinned at his sister, appreciating that she didn’t sass him at every turn. And she was always willing to help; he had to give her that. He took the rifle from Cooper then rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. Maybe that cart hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He didn’t much like being a beast of burden.

And after taking a turn at it, he figured his sister would change her mind, too.

She pulled then stopped after a half-dozen steps or so. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Here, let me help.” Aria took one pole, and McKenzie scooted to the outside of the other. “Ready?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Half an hour later, give or take a quarter, Al and Cooper gave the girls a break and took a turn pulling. When the nerd and his brother slowed to almost a crawl, Jackson relieved them before he was ready. Seemed to him the time not having to carry his pack didn’t make up for the extra effort of pulling that cart.

On the other hand, he hadn’t been helping carry the baby. And she definitely liked the cart more. She’d hardly fussed at all the whole evening.