Dead Highways: Origins (9 page)

Authors: Richard Brown

“The hell you will,” Jerry said.

“Watch me. Give me the gun.”

“No. For the last time, I’m not giving you the gun,” I said. “This is getting out of control.”

“Fine. I don’t need a gun to do it,” Aamod replied, and took off down the hall.

“Where is he going? Tell him to come back.”

“You brought this upon yourself,” I said.

“Tell him to come back here now!” Jerry yelled. He took the knife off Naima’s face and was now waving it at me as if it were some magical wand that could make me do things. Turns out, it was the moment Naima had been waiting for.

She bowed her head and then quickly threw it back in Jerry’s face. I couldn’t remember seeing a more perfect reverse head butt. It didn’t break his nose or even split open a lip, but it gave her some room to wiggle out of his grasp. He stumbled backward against the wall, rubbed a small amount of blood away from his nose. It wasn’t anything like the time I was hit with the soccer ball, the gusher from seventh grade, but it still had to suck.

Naima fell to the floor in front of him and tried to crawl away, made difficult by the rope on her hands and feet.

Jerry shook the cobwebs out of his head and wiped the blood off his free hand onto the curtain behind him. The other hand still held the knife.

I pointed the gun at Jerry and yelled, “Drop the knife!”

I felt like I was on
COPS
, barking orders at some poor white trash, only no one was here filming it.

Jerry didn’t listen. He didn’t think I’d shoot. I didn’t think so either.

Then he made a move toward Naima, and I pulled the trigger.

At first, I didn’t know if I hit anything; all I could think about was the intense ringing in my ears. I had never shot Sally before without ear protection, and never in such a cramped space. I’d be lucky if I didn’t have permanent damage to my hearing. But I was still glad I pulled the trigger. Naima crawled up next to me, out of harm because of my swift action. She looked up at me and said something, but all I heard was ringing. Aamod came up behind us and began untying Naima’s hands and feet. Jerry, on the other hand, fell onto his side, dropped the knife, and with both hands applied pressure to his right leg. That’s right, I shot the bastard in the leg. I kept the gun on him just in case he wanted to make a second go at it. He curled up against the wall and whined in pain.

After being freed from the twine, Naima ran out of the room. Aamod stood beside me watching Jerry unsuccessfully try to stop the blood from exiting his thigh. Finally, Aamod said, “Finish him.”

Finish him?

What was this
Mortal Kombat?

“Get out of here,” I said. “Go get your daughter.”

“Not until you—”

“Go. I’ll finish it.”

Aamod left. Once I was sure he was out of the house, I slowly bent down and picked up the knife off the floor. I set it down on Jerry’s messy twin bed. It looked like he hadn’t washed the sheets in many months.

Jerry looked up at me and said, “Are you gonna kill me now?”

“I probably should.”

But I’d already made up my mind. I grabbed one of the pillows, placed the muzzle of the gun into it, and fired a shot through the bed. The pillow muffled some of the sound, but not as much as I had hoped. Again, my ears cursed and complained.

I looked back at Jerry. He had a confused look on his face.

“That was for Aamod,” I said. “I’m not a killer.”

“Thank you.”

I shrugged. Then I turned and began walking away.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna help me?”

“I just did,” I replied, not looking back.

“Please. You can’t just leave me here,” Jerry pleaded.

As I reached the doorway, I finally looked back at Jerry lying bloodied and defeated in the corner. The look in his eyes was one of mounting desperation. I pitied him.

“There’s a hospital just down the road,” I said. “Maybe you can find help there.”

Then I left the house.

That was the last I saw of Jerry.

Chapter 20

Outside, I saw no sign of Aamod or Naima, so I jogged back down the street to where I’d left my grandma’s car. Dark rainclouds hovered high above, small webs of lightning flashed among them.

Peaches and Olivia were in the driver’s seat when I arrived back at the Buick. I opened up the passenger door and got inside.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I shot him.”

“So he had her?”

“No, I just felt like shooting him,” I said sarcastically. I placed Sally back between the seat and the center console.

“Well, is she okay?”

“Yeah, I think. She’s been reunited with her father.”

“Thank God.”

“How’s Olivia?”

“She missed you.”

I smirked. “Sure she did. She’s probably been asleep the whole time.”

“I can be sarcastic too, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me hold her.” Peaches carefully handed Olivia over to me. She stirred a bit then quickly fell back asleep against my shoulder. “Drive us back to Naima’s.”

When we got back to the house, Peaches took Olivia and followed me up to the front door. While we waited for someone to answer, I kept my eyes glued on Jerry’s house across the street. I had left the gun in the car, but I wouldn’t let the car out of my sight. Just in case.

Aamod answered moments later. “Did you take care of it?”

I nodded.

He nodded back his approval.

“How is Naima?” Peaches asked.

“She will be fine. She is resting.”

“Is there anything else we can do?”

“No, I can take care of her. Thank you.”

“What are your plans?”

“I don’t know.”

“Same as ours,” I said. “Same. As. Ours.”

We left Aamod to tend to his family and headed back to the bookstore. I doubted that I’d ever see either of them again.

I took back the Buick’s reins and steered us through the traffic like a pro. Still not a scratch on grandma’s car. Halfway home, a light rain began to fall. By the time we pulled up in front of the bookstore, the light rain had turned to heavy rain, and the thunder and lightning was just getting warmed up. We sat in the car waiting for it to die down, mostly for Olivia’s sake.

“What did Aamod mean when he asked you if you took care of it?”

“He wanted to know if I killed Jerry.”

“And you did? You shot him, right?”

“Yeah, I shot him in the leg.”

“That doesn’t sound too convincing.”

“It was all I could do.”

Ten minutes later, the rain finally began to slow down. I stuffed Sally back in my pants and left the car. Peaches waited until I had the door unlocked and then brought baby Olivia inside. Then we headed upstairs to check on my grandma.

Climbing the stairs, a strange feeling grew inside my gut, and it wasn’t just because I was hungry. It was the same feeling that had come on suddenly earlier in the morning, the one that had told me not to leave Peaches behind. It had come back. When we opened the door to grandma’s room, I understood why.

Bad Moses sat in a chair next to the bed. He had a gun in his right hand pointed at my grandma’s head as she slept.

I was struck speechless. Peaches, however, screamed so loud it woke the baby. Olivia immediately began crying.

“Surprised to see me,” Moses said. “You shouldn’t leave the window open. You never know when a bad man might want to come inside.”

“What are you doing here?” Peaches asked.

Moses smiled. “Speaking of coming inside. How you been, darlin’?”

“I ain’t your darling.”

“But I came back here for you.”

“Too bad I don’t need you anymore.”

“I think you should reconsider,” he said, slurring the last word. “You think this little pipsqueak is gonna be able to take care of you?”

“He could do no worse than you,” Peaches said.

“That’s not nice. Where’d you get the baby?”

Olivia had begun to settle down and stop crying.

“None of your damn business.”

“Now, now, no need to get angry,” said Moses.

“What do you expect?” I said.

“Well, look who finally decided to speak up. What do you think of my gun? Pretty nice, huh?” He pressed the end of the muzzle into my grandma’s temple. “Yours ain’t so bad either. Now go ahead and hand it over nice and slow.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” Peaches said.

“Shut your mouth, whore. I wasn’t talking to you.”

I don’t think I ever wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted to take Sally out of my waistband and empty the rest of her magazine into his ugly redneck face.

“You deaf, boy? I said hand it over to me.”

I still felt a little deaf after firing those two shots an hour or so earlier, but I had heard him just fine. I quickly pulled my gun out and pointed it at him. “How’s this?”

He looked at me with so much surprise I thought his head might explode. He was the schoolyard bully who wasn’t used to someone standing up to him. I had surprised myself, too.

“You’re something else,” Moses said. “Think you’re some . . . he—ro . . . but you ain’t.” He had begun to breathe harder. Words and sentences became more and more difficult for him to spit out.

“Are you drunk?” Peaches asked.

Moses didn’t answer, but his eyes momentarily rolled back into his head.

“Not drunk,” I said. “Infected.”

“I think you’re right,” Peaches said.

Moses began to lose the grip on his gun when there was a loud banging noise coming from downstairs that spurred him back awake. “What was that?”

Peaches looked at me. “Jimmy?”

“Someone is knocking on the door,” I said.

“Who could it be?”

“Maybe one of his friends,” I said, nodding at Moses.

Then we heard a voice. I could just barely make it out over the slight ringing still present in my ears. “Hello, is anybody home?” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“You called the . . . police,” Moses said. He was now having trouble keeping his head up. “Didn’t . . . you?”

“There is no police,” Peaches said. “Don’t you know what’s happened?”

“I don’t think he does, nor will it matter soon. But I think there might be at least one cop left in this wasteland.”

Officer Robbie Robinson, one of the cops who had come the night Moses wrecked the place. I figured it out. That’s the voice. That’s who was downstairs banging on the door. The black cop who looked like Carl Winslow. He had come to return my call in person, and had impeccable timing.

“Go get the door, Peaches,” I said.

“No . . . you won’t,” said Moses. “Don’t . . . you . . . move.”

“Don’t listen to him. Go,” I said.

Peaches hurried out of the room.

“You made . . . a mis—take.”

“No, I think you made the mis—take.” I could see his eyes begin to roll back again—the gun slowly slipping from his grasp. “What kind of man would point a gun at a little old lady?”

“I should have . . . should . . . have . . .”

He was fading fast.

“You should have what?”

“Killed you . . . before.”

“Too late now.”

I was sure he didn’t have the strength to pull the trigger, even if he wanted to.

I was wrong.

In one last flurry of energy, he swung the gun away from my grandma and fired it in my direction. Instantly, his limp wrist folded open at the recoil and the gun fell out of his hand. I had no idea where the bullet went, but it didn’t hit me.

He began mumbling incoherently as I picked up his gun off the floor.

“Is it safe?” Officer Robinson yelled from the hall.

“Yes.”

Officer Robinson came into the room. He held a gun out in front of him, pointed at Moses. “Is he dead? Did you shoot him?”

“No, he tried to shoot me.” I held out the attempted murder weapon. “Here’s his gun.”

Officer Robinson took the gun and removed the magazine.

Peaches now came into the room. “I put Olivia on your bed. Don’t worry, I closed and locked the window.”

“Okay, good.”

I walked over and stood beside Officer Robinson examining Moses. “He’s infected. What are we going to do with him? He can’t stay here.”

“I’ll take him to the station and lock him in a holding cell.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Peaches stayed upstairs to keep an eye on Olivia, while I helped Officer Robinson carry Moses’ lifeless body downstairs and into the backseat of his squad car.

“That’s one heavy son of a bitch,” he said.

We both stood and watched as a car drove by and stopped at the Haji-Mart across the street. It was Aamod’s silver Toyota. He and Naima got out of the car and entered the store.

“So I got your voicemail, but service went down before I could respond. As you can imagine, I was pretty busy yesterday when the shit hit the fan. Since then, things have . . . slowed.”

“I can tell. Do you know how many are infected?”

“Most, and not just here. Everywhere. I know of a few other officers who weren’t infected. I tried to locate some of them, but I think they skipped town. Where the hell they went I have no idea.”

I kept my eyes locked on the convenience store. Naima and her father were still inside. I wondered if Naima was going to tell him that she let me take some stuff in return for dropping her into the hands of a sexual predator.

“Do you know them?” Officer Robinson asked.

“Yeah, we’ve spent some time together.”

“Perhaps we should have a talk with them.”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I’m looking to gather as many survivors together as possible. Maybe we can figure out what to do about all this, if there is anything we
can
do.”

“Strength in numbers, I like that,” I said.

“Good to hear it.”

Aamod came out of the store and started digging through the trunk of his car.

“How about we go over there and have a chat with them.”

“Whatever you say, Officer.”

“You can call me Robbie,” he said, smiling. “Or just Robinson.”

We began walking across the street, side stepping the deeper puddles left by the rain shower. As we passed the military humvee, I noticed the engine had finally shut off.

“I see you took my advice,” Robinson said.

“What advice?”

“The gun.”

“Oh. Yeah, I had to keep it secret from my grandma. But so far it’s come in handy.”

“Not sure how much we’ll be needing firearms anymore though, with the way the world is now. And hey, I’m sorry about your grandma.”

“So am I,” I said. “How is your family?”

“Don’t know. They all live out of the area. Lost all communication with them. My dog, Jax, is fine though.”

Naima joined her father outside. She helped him carry boxes from the trunk of the car into the store. Aamod stopped when he saw us coming across the parking lot.

“Can I help you?” he said.

I wondered if it was an inappropriate time to ask him for a hot dog.

“Just thought I’d come over and introduce myself,” Robinson said, extending his hand. “Robbie Robinson.”

Aamod shook his hand. “You’re a police officer?”

“What gave it away . . . the uniform? I guess you already know my friend here.”

In Robinson’s eyes, we were already friends. How about that. To think it only took the world going to hell to turn me into Mr. Popular. Aamod, however, wasn’t quite sold yet on my newfound awesomeness. I saved the man’s daughter, for God’s sake, and all he had for me was a blank stare.

I let Officer Robinson occupy Aamod while I slipped away.

Naima saw me come into the store and ran over to give me a big hug. “Jimmy, I never got a chance to thank you.”

“It was nothing, really. How are you? Did he hurt you?”

Naima bowed her head. “Not much.”

“That’s . . . good,” I said. “You sure you’re okay?”

She raised her head and forced a smile. “Yeah.”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“Mad at you?”

“Yeah, because we left the hospital without you.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Did your dad tell you we found a baby at the hospital?”

“You found a baby? No, he didn’t mention it. What are you gonna do with a baby?”