Jake's Law: A Zombie Novel (15 page)

“No, no. This guy keeps a few goodies locked up in back. You know, AK47s, M16s, the good stuff.”

“You’re sure of this?”

Justin smiled. “I brought a load across the border from Agua Prieta once. He showed me.”

“Take four men and bring back something nice. If you do, you become one of my lieutenants.”

Justin almost fell over himself getting his friends up and moving. Most were still suffering from hangovers, but a few judicious kicks and shoves got them dressed and out the door. A truck cranked and pulled away squealing tires. With his offer to advance Justin for a successful run, he felt confident they would find weapons somewhere.

To two of the women still lying on blankets he yelled, “Get off your asses and clean this pig sty. It stinks in here.”

They glared at him but said nothing. One, a skinny blonde, began walking around the room naked, picking up dirty clothes and discarded plates of food. When she bent over in front of him, purposefully giving him a close up view of her narrow ass, he said, “Get that thing out of my face. Save it for the others. They’re less discriminating than I am.” The second girl, barely out of her teens, chuckled. To her, he snapped, “Shut the hell up or I’ll feed you to the zombies.”

Satisfied he had inspired them to work, at least until he disappeared, he went outside.

The explosions had quieted, but a cloud of black smoke still billowed in the north. If Justin managed to find automatic weapons, all was well and good. If not, there were other places to obtain weapons, other arsenals. The thought of having .50 caliber machine guns or even an armored half track to play with gave him an erection. He reached down and rubbed his crotch.

“Isn’t that my job,” Hawk said, as she walked up beside
him.

Damn, she walks light.
He wanted to throw her to the ground and fuck her, but he couldn’t spend all his time in bed. “Not at the moment. I’ve got things to do.”

“Here?” she asked. Her eyes were on the two sluts visible through the window still picking up garbage in the living room.

“No, I feel like scouting around a bit.”

“Need company?”

He stared at her. What was behind her offer? Did she want to get him away from the others to kill him? He decided that she didn’t
, at least not yet. “What’s it to you?”

Her eyes returned to the two girls. “If they see that you need me, they’ll leave me alone. Otherwise, I’m going to kill the blonde bitch. She
bad mouths me behind my back.”

As much as he would like to see a fight between Hawk and the blonde, he knew who would win, no contest. “Sure, tag along if you like.”

He had chosen a new white Ford Explorer from a dealership for his vehicle of choice. It still had the dealer’s sticker on the side window. It gave him a thrill each time he saw the MSRP of twenty-nine thousand dollars. He turned west onto Tangerine Road and drove to I-10. Heading north on the access road, weaving through a sea of parked cars, he got close enough to confirm that it was indeed the National Guard Armory on fire. He was certain it was the group in the jeep. They were becoming an itch he longed to scratch. If Justin came through for him, he would even the score.

“You look like you’re contemplating something nasty,” Hawk said.

He jerked his head to stare at her. He hadn’t realized he had let his anger show. “It’s time to start a war.”

“
With whom?”

He nodded at the column of smoke.
“The ones who did that.”

“Why do they matter so much? You’ve got twenty men.”

“Because they’re smart. I’ve got clowns to work with.”

She pursed her lips, stung by his comment. “Am I a clown?”

He shook his head and grinned. “You might be the only bright spot in my otherwise dreary life, if I thought I could trust you not to kill me.”

In response, she set her weapon on the rear seat and began stripping off her clothes. When she was completely naked, she lay back on the seat and said, “Do I threaten you now?”

Forgetting where they were and throwing caution to the wind, he dropped his pants and crawled over to her. She accepted him inside her eagerly, rising to meet his thrusts. This was not lovemaking. It was release, pure and simple. He pounded her until he came, and then moved back to his side of the SUV. 

As he zipped his pants, he said, “Not as much.”

The intimacy lasted only a few minutes. Zombies clambered over car hoods and crawled from ditches toward them. Any other time he would have stopped to kill them for fun. This time, satisfied, he cranked the SUV and sped away.

14

June 16, 2016    Marana, AZ –

To avoid the clogged interstate and congested access road,
Jake directed Jessica to a dirt road leading to Red Rock, a small town a few miles north of Pinal Air Park. Backtracking on dirt roads would require a roundabout approach to reach their destination but would avoid built up areas and the risk of more zombies. He had had enough of zombie killing for one day. The community of Red Rock had almost completely reverted to the desert upon which it had been built. A fire had leveled many houses in the major neighborhoods. Entire streets were lined with ash-filled ruins. Wind-blown sand reached window high in those houses remaining unconsumed by fire. The boulevard running between neighborhoods was now a flat ribbon of brush-filled desert with patches of asphalt showing through.

As they forded the Santa Cruz River in a shaded stand of trees, Jessica stopped the jeep in the middle of the shallow river.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked.

L
aughing, she removed her shoes and jumped into the water, wading downstream, kicking and splashing in the water like a child in a puddle.

Exasperated by her actions, Jake called to her,
“We don’t have time for this.”

She stared at him. “What? No time to wade a river on
a sweltering summer day? Let’s
make
time.”

“She’s right,” Re
ed said, removing his own boots and socks.

Outvoted two-to-one, Jake
relented. “All right. We splash awhile.”

He removed his boots and socks, rolled up the legs of his jeans, and climbed out of the jeep. He kept his AA-12 with him. The water was cool and refreshing on his feet. Spying the cow piles along the bank, he warned, “Don’t drink the water.
It’s not clean.” He scanned the trees, hoping to spot a stray cow for dinner, but saw nothing.

Jessica sat on a boulder in the middle of the stream and let the water circle her legs. She dipped her cupped hands in the water and poured it over her head. “That feels good.”

Reed did her one better by plopping down on his backside in the water and rolling in it. Jake watched on with muted anger at his inability to relax long enough to enjoy a simple wade in the river. Where they saw cool flowing water, he saw a disease-laden stew. Where they saw a thick copse of trees along the sandy banks, he saw hiding places for zombies. Where they saw an opportunity to relax, he saw wasted time.

After ten minutes, he herded them back to the jeep. “We
still have shopping to do,” he reminded them.

Passing through downtown Marana, they attracted the attention of
several zombies, but Jake did his best to avoid them. Even Reed, perhaps made tranquil by his dip in the river, seemed uninterested in killing them. A small tendril of smoke rose from a window in the elementary school. As they neared the building, he caught the aroma of soup cooking. Someone was still alive and taking refuge in the school. The parking lot sun shelters were topped with solar panels providing power. The steel fences were an effective barrier to roaming zombies, but not against human predators. For a moment, his eyes locked with Jessica’s, and he knew she wanted to check on the survivors. He shook his head. She turned away disappointed.

“If they have weapons, they might shoot first
and ask questions later,” he explained in a futile attempt to justify his decision.

She turned
back to face him. The track of a tear ran down her cheek. “And if they don’t? Shouldn’t we help them?”

“They’ve got a good location. It seems secure enough.”

“You don’t care if they live or die,” she accused, crossing her arms across her chest in that millenniums-old gesture of rejection and denunciation.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he replied harshly.

He didn’t feel like trying to explain to her that whoever was inside, whatever their condition, he didn’t want to risk a confrontation. It was difficult enough to cope with his two current wards. Adding more strangers would upset the dynamic of their little group. In the backseat, Reed coughed.

“What?” Jake
snapped, staring at him.

He looked surprised at the question.
“Nothing.”

T
hey continued down the road for several minutes in silence. He could feel Reed’s gaze on the back of his neck. If they were trying to induce guilt, it was working. Finally, he said, “Turn around.”

Jessica swung the jeep around
in the road and headed back the way they had come. At the entrance to the school, he said, “Pull in here.”

At the chain
gate across the entrance, Jessica stopped the jeep. He fished out the Maxim Versa shotgun, filled a bag with shells, and pushed them beneath the gate where they would be plainly visible. He no longer needed the Maxim. He had the AA-12. The shotgun might make a difference to whoever was inside. It was the best he could do without taking on their problems.

“Let’s go.”

Jessica smiled at him. Reed chuckled with delight. He ignored them both.

The Tractor Supply store in Marana was
just off the expressway on the access road between Cortaro Farms Road and Ina Road. Of all the area stores, it would have durable clothing, tools, and oil and filters for the vehicles and was far enough away from any neighborhoods to be zombie free. The nearby buildings were businesses and unlikely to harbor zombies. The parking lot was empty of vehicles. He directed Jessica around the side of the building, past the ten-foot-high wrought iron fenced enclosure containing rolls of barb wire, fence posts, and plastic water tanks for cattle. A side door and a roll-up garage door were both closed and the windows unbroken, which was a good sign that the store hadn’t been plundered. They continued to the rear of the building. A second roll-up door was partially open and boxes lay scattered across the asphalt parking lot. His first assumption had been wrong. Someone had been there before them. His first thought was to leave the area, but the building was still their best choice to find what they needed, and the boxes looked weathered, as if they had been there awhile.

They
parked out of sight behind the store in the empty parking lot near the fence’s iron gate. Jake pushed the rear roll-up door higher and led the way inside with the AA-12 shotgun. He winced as the squeaky wheels of the door echoed loudly in the cavernous room. The interior was dark, musty, and stifling hot. The windows were dirty, allowing in very little sunlight. A thermometer on the wall read 118 degrees. Jake didn’t doubt it. Each breath of hot, stale air was a challenge. He clicked on his flashlight and played it around the darkened interior.

“Reed, you stay here and keep watch.” To Jessica, he said,
“Stay close to me.”

The looters had been haphazard in their pillaging
, damaging more items that they took. Jessica zeroed in on the clothing section. While she shopped, methodically rummaging through every shelf, he quickly picked out two pair of jeans, underwear, and tee shirts for himself and tossed them into a shopping cart. He added a case of oil and wiper blades for the jeep, extra paper targets, and arrows for his bow, and a case of mason jars for canning. By the time he had the cart full, Jessica had picked out her wardrobe, including a wide brimmed straw hat and rugged work boots. She pushed the hat onto her head and modeled it for him.

“The perfect thing for gardening, don’t you think?”

“Very chic,” he replied. “That reminds me. I need to pick up fertilizer and work gloves.”

“Why not a rototiller?”

“Rototillers need gas. Besides, hoeing is good exercise. If you’ve got what you need, go relieve Reed so he can shop.”

Before she could leave, two quick
rifle shots from the rear of the store reverberated like thunder in the metal building. Jake glanced at Jessica, motioning her to remain where she was, and then rushed to check on Reed. His heart was pumping, his mind racing through different scenarios, expecting trouble. The last thing he expected was to see a smiling Reed proudly displaying a headless six-foot rattlesnake dangling from the barrel of his rifle.

“Bastard almost got me. He was curled up in a
coil of rope near the corner of the building. If he hadn’t rattled, I might have stepped on him.”

“Why did you shoot it?’
Jake demanded, relieved to learn that Reed was all right but angry that he had resorted to shooting the snake.

Reed stared at him. “What did you expect me to do, adopt it?”