The Doomsday Sheriff: The Novella Collection (Includes Books 1 - 3)

by Michael James Ploof

  “Follow me out past the Walmart and I’ll tell you the ingredients you’ll need for the second half of the remedy,” said Max, closing the window before Pike had a chance to speak. The man glowered at him before stomping off toward a big black Chevy.

  “The second half of the remedy?” said Valentine.

  “There isn’t one, but Pike doesn’t know that.”

  “Then what’s the plan?”

  “To get the hell out of here and flip these dickheads the bird.”

  Max drove out to the intersection leading to the Walmart, where uptown gave way to a long stretch of Route 11 that would bring him out of town. John and Pike stayed close behind, and six more trucks followed. A light snow had begun to fall, and it took a while for the Bronco to warm up. Valentine was dressed for winter like everyone else, but still she shivered in the passenger seat.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be alright. I’ve got a hunch the king of the dipshits back there planned on killing me, so I told him that his wives would need a second remedy,” said Max.

  “I’m not shivering because I’m scared. And what do you mean, his wives?”

  “He had five women locked up in the jail. Screamers. They were all underage, I think.”

  “We can’t just leave them there,” said Valentine.

  “And we can’t rescue them either, not by ourselves. Don’t worry, when we get to Fort Drum, I’ll report everything I saw here.”

  “And what if they won’t help the girls?” said Valentine.

  “They’re military, I’m sure they’ll help.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Me too,” said Max. He slowed down at the intersection that would lead him left to the Walmart and stopped the truck, keeping it in drive.

  John pulled up behind him, and Pike’s driver pulled up beside the Bronco.

  “Alright, Sheriff,” said Pike from the passenger seat of the black Chevy when Max rolled down his window. “What’d they need?”

  “We stumbled on this concoction after the screamers that we thought had been cured began…well, let’s just say they changed. There are two main ingredients; the first one is cherry-flavored cough syrup.”

  Pike eyed him suspiciously. “And the second?”

  “You got a CB?” said Max.

  Pike nodded.

  “I’ll tell you the other ingredient when we’re ten miles away. Tune in to channel twenty-seven.”

  “What you playing at, Sheriff?”

  “Insurance.”

  “Against what? We had a deal. You think I go back on my deals?”

  “No, and neither do I. That’s why I helped you cure your wives, and that’s why I’ll let you know the next part of the cure in ten miles. If I don’t, then you can come after me. Won’t be hard to find, what with the tire tracks and all.”

  Pike spit out the window, but some of it dribbled down his hairy chin. He didn’t bother wiping it away.

  “Alright, Sheriff. We’ll play this your way.”

  “Okay, Pike. Thanks for the tour of your kingdom. I’ll be in touch shortly.”

  Max rolled up his window and got the Bronco moving, watching the trucks in the rearview like a hawk. John followed close behind, but none of Pike’s men pursued them.

  “How’s it looking back there, John?” Max said over the walkie-talkie.

  “I don’t know what you said to him, but they’re not following.”

  “I told Pike I’d give him the other half of the cure when we are safely ten miles out.”

  “There isn’t a second part of the cure.”

  “Exactly. And even if I give them a fake one, they’ll be coming after us, and they aren’t going to wait until we’re ten miles away.”

  “Then we gotta shake ‘em.”

  “Yup,” said Max. “There’s a town coming up called Bangor. When we reach the caution light, I want you to go left and drive up and down as many roads as possible, then continue west with me, alright?”

  “Gotcha, Sheriff.”

  When they came to the light, Max went right after John turned left. Max peeled out and shot down the street, skidding onto a side road and driving to the end before hanging a left again to take him back to Route 11. He did this half a dozen times, as did John, and by the time they were done, the roads all bore their tire tracks.

  “Sheriff to John.”

  “Come in, Sheriff.”

  “You continue down the road for a mile and then turn back. Keep within your old tracks when you come back. I’m going to do the same. When you get back to town, hang a left onto Factory Street and follow it to the end. Farm to Market Road runs parallel. We’ll take the rest of the way to the next town.”

  John headed down Route 11, and Max took the road that would lead them to another parallel roadway, Route 11b.

  “You think this is going to work?” Valentine asked.

  “I sure as hell hope so,” said Max. “I mean, it’ll work for a time. I just hope they didn’t set out after us already.”

  “If he was smart, he would have sent someone after us a few minutes after our taillights disappeared.”

  “Good thing he’s not very smart, isn’t it?” said Max. “Besides, I think he enjoys the hunt. He’ll let us get a little lead. I’m sure of—”

  “Stop!” Valentine screamed.

  Max jerked his head back to the road and slammed on the brakes when he caught sight of something standing in the road. It was a howler, and it looked confused by the glaring headlights.

  “Yeah, I was going to turn around here anyway,” he said, putting the truck in reverse.

  The howler’s three mouths opened, and it let out a cry that was loud even in the cab. Max peeled out, hooking an arm around the passenger seat and navigating through the back window. It was times like these he appreciated his advanced driver training that the state provided local law enforcement.

  “How we looking?” he asked Valentine, not wanting to take his eyes off the road illuminated by his reverse lights behind them.

  Valentine let out a scream as something heavy hit the front of the Bronco. Max cranked the wheel and floored it enough to whip them around. He looked out the broken front windshield and saw the howler smiling back at him as the Bronco spun a one-eighty in the street. He hit the brakes, and the monstrosity flew off the hood sideways.

  He hit the gas before the howler hit the ground and left it in the dust, flying toward Main Street and drifting back onto Route 11. John was coming back from the west, and he followed Max’s lead. Together they headed north.

  Chapter 12

  B-Town

  It had been fifteen minutes since Max and the crew left Pike and his cronies in Malone, and it was time to hold up his end of the bargain. He tuned to channel twenty-seven on the CB and brought it to his mouth.

  “Breaker, breaker, this is the Doomsday Sheriff. You there, Teddy Bear?” Max could just imagine Pike glancing around at the others with mild frustration.

  “Pike here,” he said, sounding impatient.

  “Well, I kept up my end of the bargain,” said Max. “You hold up yours? I thought I saw headlights behind us a few miles back,” he lied.

  “Wasn’t us, Sheriff. Me and the boys are waiting with my terrified wives. You got the second ingredient?”

  Max glanced at Valentine. “You hear the truck engine on his end?”

  She nodded. “What a moron.”

  “You think?” Max brought the CB to his mouth again as he pulled onto Farm to Market Road and hooked a left, heading west once more. “Alright Pike, listen close, because this is very important.”

  “I’m all ears, Sheriff.”

  “More like all teeth,” said Valentine.

  She and Max fist-bumped.

  “You know the first ingredient, cherry cough syrup. This second one is going to sound strange. But trust me, it works.”

  “Spit it out, Sheriff.”

  “Kisses.”

  Static answered when he let go of the button.
/>   “You’re going to regret this, Sheriff.”

  “What?” Max checked the rearview and, seeing nothing, he grinned at Valentine. “I meant Hershey’s Kisses, that’s the second ingredient. I’m not being a smartass. You’ve got to give them cough syrup and Hershey Kisses.”

  Pike didn’t respond.

  “Teddy Bear? Come in, Teddy Bear,” he said, feigning concern. “Teddy Bear!”

  He laughed to himself and hung up the CB before rubbing his grainy eyes.

  “You probably shouldn’t have pissed him off like that,” said Valentine, though she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

  Max grabbed the radio. “You there, John?”

  “Yup.”

  “Alright, in a few miles we’re going to reach Brushton. Now, it’s got one of those old-school covered wooden bridges. Just a small one, but without it there’s no getting over the river without going miles out of your way.”

  “Lemme guess,” said John. “We’re going to burn it down.”

  “I hate to, but it’s gotta be done. Anything in your rearview?”

  “All clear, Sheriff.”

  “Good.”

  They continued into Brushton and turned right back onto Route 11. The bridge came up a few minutes later, and Max pulled over on the side of the road once he’d crossed it. He waved John on before putting the Bronco in reverse and backing onto the bridge once more and parking sideways.

  “I love this old rig, but when it’s time to say goodbye, well, it’s time,” he told Valentine. “Help me get this stuff into the Hummer.”

  With John’s help, they hurriedly transported everything from the Bronco and stowed it away in the Hummer. Five minutes later, Max was spreading gas all over the beautiful wooden bridge. He really did hate to burn it down, but it was them or the bridge, and, well, bridges could be rebuilt.

  When he was finished soaking the bridge, he pulled out the gas cap and stuffed a gas-soaked rag into the hole and walked over to the others.

  “John, you do the honors. I just can’t bring myself to kill Chuck.”

  “Chuck?”

  “The Bronco.”

  “Right.” John took the matchbook from Max. “You want to say a few words?”

  Headlights suddenly appeared on the hill leading toward the bridge.

  “We’ve got company!” said Max.

  John and Valentine looked up, and John lit a match, caught the book on fire, and tossed it on the soaked wood.

  They all rushed back to the Hummer, and Max jumped in the driver’s seat. Valentine called out shotgun and hip-bumped John into the passenger side door. They all filed in, and Max put it in gear as the first of the headlights broke over the hill. The bridge caught quickly and went up in a wild pyre as Max peeled out.

  Half a dozen sets of headlights appeared on the hill leading down to the bridge, and Max grinned to himself as the Bronco finally exploded, likely scaring the shit out of Pike and his men.

  He floored the four-wheel drive Hummer and tore through the ten inches of snow on the road, blasting through the two-foot drifts.

  “Shit!” he said, slamming the dash and making Valentine jump.

  “What?”

  “I forgot the Hip CD.”

  “This one?” she said with a smirk and popped it in the CD player.

  “Ahead by a Century” began to play, and Max grinned at Valentine.

  “Attagirl!”

  Chapter 13

  The Mohawk Militia

  Max drove through the sleepy towns of Northern NY as fast as he dared given the snow covering the roads. The Hummer was a four-wheel drive beast, but some of the drifts were over two feet high on the road, and the last thing they needed right now was to go off the road. Max guessed that Pike and his men were only a few miles behind them at this point, and with the tracks left behind, there was no way to thwart them.

  His best bet was the Mohawk Reservation.

  The Akwesasne Mohawk Reservation spread across parts of Northern New York and Canada, and as a result, its people enjoyed dual citizenship. There was a casino located on “The Rez,” which provided a lot of jobs for the area, but there had always been and was still a lot of illegal activity. The St. Lawrence River provided a means for the natives to smuggle drugs, guns, and even people to and from Canada. Most natives looked down on such activities, but where there was opportunity, there were people willing to take a chance to make big money for dangerous work.

  Max knew that the natives would have the road leading into town blocked off. By now they would have locked down the area, and there was no way Pike and his men were going to get through.

  The army boys hadn’t gone this way to get to Fort Drum, but Max knew it was his only shot. He didn’t doubt that a good number of the Mohawks had been just as sauced as the rest of the country on the night of the meteor shower, and there would be hundreds of survivors. He regretted that the screamers had started creating the strange howler cocoons, for he might have helped to cure more people, but now it looked like that stage had passed.

  As he drove into the rez, he saw the telltale sign of life—light emanated from the top of the incline leading from the valley, and Max knew it wasn’t the lights of the casino. Power had died before he woke up on Sunday morning, but there was still plenty of fuel and generators.

  “You two sit tight and let me do the talking,” said Max.

  “You think they’re going to let us through?” said Valentine.

  “I’m hoping they’ve got a few screamers locked up that haven’t yet joined the howler cocoon party. If so, then we’ll trade. There’s no way Pike’s getting through. Look.”

  As they crested the hill, a barricade of big trucks came into view, illuminated by powerful floodlights that were aimed at the road to blind anyone approaching. It worked. Max pulled the visor down and put on his sunglasses as he approached, and that’s when he noticed the men on the sides of the road. The Mohawks were known for their illegal guns, and now they stood with machine guns trained on the Hummer, eyes and faces obscured by masks.

  There were at least a dozen men and women around the barricade with similar weaponry, and one walked forward holding a stop sign.

  Max stopped and shut off his headlights. He then put his empty hands out the open window, urging Valentine and John to do the same. The men on the sides of the road moved in as two more walked up to the Hummer. One man, who wore an Akwesasne Mohawk Police jacket, shined his flashlight in Max’s face as he came around to the driver’s side.

  “You lost?” he asked in a thick native accent.

  “No sir,” said Max, squinting against the light. He could only make out the man’s build: average height, stocky. Given his voice, Max put the man in his fifties.

  “Anyone else witcha?”

  “Just the three of us,” said Max as the man ran the light over Valentine and John before sweeping the Hummer. “But we’ve got a bunch of crazy rednecks after us. Thought maybe you’d grant us passage and—”

  “How many are after you?”

  “Dozens, probably six or seven truckloads of assholes.”

  “Turn around, go home.”

  “Listen, Oaks, is it?” said Max, catching a glimpse of the jacket once more.

  The man stood motionless, waiting.

  “I’ve got something to offer.”

  Oaks glanced at Valentine, but Max saw no hunger in his eyes. “We don’t need nothing. Go home.”

  “I bet you’ve got a few screamers locked up. Maybe kids that you’re trying desperately to help? Loved ones? Well, I can cure them, make them normal again. In trade, you let us through. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds like white man promises to me,” said Oaks. He lifted the flashlight and glanced at Max’s jacket. “You sheriff? Or you steal that from a dead man?”

  “I’m a sheriff. We drove down from Lake Placid. The army came through and took all the survivors. We’re headed to Fort Drum.”

  A nod
from Oaks, but his eyes gave away nothing.

  Lights caught Max’s attention in the rearview, and some moments later, headlights crested the hill. “That would be the rednecks,” said Max. “We got a deal?”

  Oaks squinted at the distant lights and glanced at Max suspiciously. “We’ll get rid of ‘em, then we’ll see if what you say about a cure is true. If not, you leave the way you came.”

  “Thank you,” said Max.

  Oaks gestured to the men around the barricade before opening Max’s door. “Walk hands up toward the trucks.”

  They all filed out of the Hummer and walked into the blinding floodlights. Soon men and women rushed out to pull them past the barricade. The trucks filled in the space once more as Pike and his men drove up behind the Hummer. Max watched from behind the trucks with anticipation as Oaks and his men approached Pike and his little army. He didn’t know what to expect—sudden gunfire, an explosion, perhaps an angry army of howlers suddenly tearing into both groups. His nerves were beyond frazzled, and his sense of danger was tipping the scales toward sheer panic.

  Max took a few steadying breaths, and soon the mood passed. He had seen combat in the army, lots of it, and he had gone days without sleep before, but that was when he was a young man. Now, the impending doom was starting to get to him.

  He caught Valentine looking at him worriedly and offered her a reassuring nod.

  In the distance, Pike and his men turned around and angrily peeled out. But to Max’s disappointment, they stopped on top of the hill and parked once more. Oaks walked back to the barricade, taking his sweet time as the trucks parted before him.

  “Alright, Sheriff. Time to see if what you say is true,” said Oaks.

  “Why are they waiting up on the hill?”

  Oaks turned and glanced back before offering Max a dead stare. “If you’re lyin’ about the cure, then you go back the way you came.”

  “And if not?”