Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  I have to find him, he thought. I have to make this right. If Pike hurts anyone, I’ll never forgive myself.

  He’d never made such a mistake in his long career in law enforcement. No criminal had ever gotten the drop on him or escaped on his watch. All those years of service would mean nothing, however, if he didn’t catch Pike quickly.

  As he drove past the school, he saw Memorial Park in the distance. The park was a triangular space with a slope leading down to a tree-lined creek along the back edge. The muddy, brown creek eventually met up with the Ocmulgee River.

  James saw the disordered array of tents in the middle of the park, a few children dashing about, but his attention was drawn toward the back of the park. Two or three dozen people were gathered in the open space above the creek, where they had already begun to prepare the land for the first community garden. The sheriff recognized the head librarian, Zoe, moving in the midst of them, pointing and directing people. She was wearing a large straw sun hat and had a book tucked under her arm. Beyond her, he saw Violet, her head down so her hair was in her face. She had her guide dog at her side, and the faithful Labrador seemed to be guiding her in a straight line. Every few steps, Violet stopped and gestured at a young man behind her, who would then kneel and jab a wooden stick in the ground.

  There was no sign of Pike. That didn’t surprise him, of course. He didn’t expect Pike to march boldly into a park full of people. Still, he had to warn them.

  James parked his Crown Victoria at the back of the parking lot nearest the garden, touched the holster to make sure his old 228 was handy, and got out of the car. It looked like they’d marked out just about half an acre for their initial garden plot. If they wanted to increase it to a size that would actually make a dent in the community’s food needs, the city would have to relocate the tent camp. James didn’t relish that idea. However, at the moment, it was the least of his concerns.

  Since Zoe seemed to be the one in charge, he made a beeline for her. Three young men were using hand tillers to dig up the soil, while another group of men and woman followed behind and picked rocks out of the ground. Most of the people here were locals, but there were a few faces he didn’t recognize that he assumed were from the tent camp, including an older couple holding hands and chatting.

  “Sheriff, nice of you pay us a visit,” Zoe said, as James approached. “Things are coming along just fine.”

  “Is everything going okay here?” James asked. “Have there been any disturbances?”

  She either saw something on his face or heard something in his voice that caused her concern. Suddenly, she leaned in close, studying him.

  “Sheriff, is something wrong?” she said. “It looks like you’ve got a fat lip.” She tapped her upper lip. “Right here. Are you hurt?”

  He only became aware of the dull, throbbing pain in his face when she mentioned it. Reaching up, he touched his lip and realized it was tender and swollen.

  Pike got me good, he thought.

  “I’m fine,” he told Zoe. “You haven’t seen anyone unusual roaming around the park, have you? Or maybe walking down the street?”

  “No, I don’t believe so,” she replied. “Sheriff, what’s the problem?”

  “I need to talk to Violet,” he said. “It’ll be best if I explain it to both of you.”

  Violet, at the back corner of the garden plot was now on her knees with some other volunteers. Ruby, her dog, padded back and forth nearby, sniffing along the roots of the trees, as if seeking a good place to pee. It looked like the volunteers were pulling the weeds that had crept out of the overgrown area around the trees. For environmental reasons, the strips of land on either side of the creek were allowed to grow wild, heavy underbrush filling the spaces between the trunks, but the wild growth often encroached into the park. It seemed Violet was determined to keep the weeds in their place.

  “Come with me,” James said, beckoning Zoe as he started across the garden. He didn’t want to ruin the nice lines the volunteers had dug with their tools, so he moved outside of the boundary Violet had marked off with her colored sticks.

  “Are we in danger, Sheriff?” Zoe asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he replied. “We may be.”

  She hurried to keep pace with him, almost dropping her book in the process. When she shifted the book from her left arm to her right, he caught a glimpse of the title: Vegetable Gardening for Dummies. Under normal circumstances, it would have made him chuckle, but nothing was funny at the moment.

  It happened the moment he looked up. In a burst of leaves, twigs, and vines, a lanky shape lunged out of the bushes along the tree line. A big face with a prominent nose, pockmarked and ugly as sin. His shirt was still spattered with vomit, and he looked like some kind of cartoon monster bursting off a comic book page.

  Violet was inches away, and Pike managed to grab her before she could react. As James fumbled for his gun, and Violet cried out, Ruby barked and tried to lunge at the attacker. One hand clamped around her right arm, the other thrust under her left armpit, Pike fell backward into the bushes, dragging Violet along with him. In the process, she inadvertently kicked Ruby, which caused the dog to yelp and back away.

  “Get out of the way,” James shouted at the volunteers as he rushed toward the trees. “Move aside. Move!”

  The cluster of volunteers at the back corner of the garden, clearly confused by the sudden attack, turned and stared dumbly as the sheriff ran toward them. He finally got his gun out of the holster, and when they saw it, they began to move. Ruby had resumed barking at the bushes, pacing madly back and forth.

  “Help me,” Violet cried from somewhere in the underbrush. “Help me!”

  The sheriff leapt at the bushes, tearing through them. He felt limbs and vines ripping at him, clawing his clothes, scratching his face and hands. When he hit the ground on the other side, he lost his balance and went down on one knee, sliding in the mud. Pike had backed up against a tree near the water, Violet held against his chest. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her fast as she struggled. In his other hand, he held the gun.

  “Don’t come any closer, Sheriff,” he said. “I’ve got her, and she’s coming with me.”

  Violet thrust her head forward and bit down hard. Pike howled in pain, and James used the opportunity to rush forward, bringing his own gun up. As he did, he heard movement through the brush on either side. Soon volunteers from the garden project appeared, men and women coming from both sides. The sheriff was impressed to see that most of them were armed, and soon Pike was surrounded by a ring of people, all pointing guns at his head. He thrashed as Violet continued gnawing on him, and James managed to snag his gun arm and twist the gun out of his hand.

  “Okay, okay,” Pike shrieked. “You got me.”

  He let go of Violet and flung her to the ground. She fell on her hands and knees and immediately began crawling away. Pike looked at the ring of guns around him and raised both hands, the marks of Violet’s teeth visible just above his left wrist.

  “Damn, I didn’t expect a bunch of suburbanites at a garden party to be armed,” he said.

  “Well, aren’t you just about the dumbest criminal that ever lived?” James said, grabbing him forcefully by the shoulder. “You could’ve left town and got away scot-free, but you just had to do something stupid.”

  As he shoved Pike up against a tree, the criminal laughed. It was a low, breathy laugh, not for show. There was genuine glee in it.

  “You won’t be laughing soon,” James said, slapping cuffs on Pike and tightening them just enough to make them uncomfortable. He looked at the volunteers around him. “Thanks for the help, folks. I’ll take it from here. Please, look after poor Violet there.”

  “Was it Pike? It sounded like Pike,” Violet said. She was sitting on the ground, rubbing a sore spot on her arm. Her voice quavered. “How did he get out of jail?”

  “I’m sorry about that,” James said. “It won’t happen again.” He forced Pike to
march back through the brush and into the park.

  As he did, he heard the volunteers helping Violet get up. Ruby finally found a way through the underbrush and began to whimper, clearly distressed by the whole situation. This only made James angrier, and he tightened his grip on Pike’s upper arm until the criminal gasped in pain.

  “You really are an idiot,” James said.

  “Am I?” Pike replied. “I got the drop on you, so I guess I’m not as dumb as you think.”

  “Yeah, and here you are not three hours later back in cuffs.”

  Pike laughed again, so James squeezed his arm harder.

  “Enjoy it while you can, Sheriff,” Pike said. “A big surprise is headed your way.”

  James marched him back across the park as volunteers and residents of the tent camp watched.

  “A big surprise, huh?” James opened the back door of his cruiser and forced Pike onto the seat. “Well, maybe I’ve got a big surprise for you, Pike. Let’s go find out.”

  He slammed the door and got behind the wheel. As he did, Pike leaned his cheek against the mesh wall that separated them. James started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, and Pike started making a weird guttural sound.

  “Don’t tell me you’re pretending to be sick again,” James said.

  Pike made the sound louder, and finally the sheriff recognized it. Pike was trying to imitate the sound of a revving motorcycle. He did this for almost a full minute before he burst out laughing, flinging himself back against his seat. James felt his anxiety, his regret, and the burning sense of shame curdle into something dark and hateful. In all his years as a sheriff, he had never felt such a dangerous mix of emotion.

  “I hope you rinsed the floor for me, at least,” Pike said, still laughing.

  “Do yourself a favor and quit talking, my friend,” James said.

  He was driving faster than he should have, tires squealing as he rounded corners. Soon the park and high school disappeared behind them. Pike began muttering under his breath, periodically chuckling. Either he had lost his mind, or he wanted James to think he’d lost his mind. James glanced at the gun in his hand.

  No, not that way, he thought. That’s too easy.

  He dumped the gun onto the floorboard of the passenger seat.

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Pike said. “I had my fun. You can’t fault me, right? It was worth a try. You’d have done the same thing in my place. Now, I’ll just sit tight and wait for the surprise.”

  They came in sight of the sheriff’s office, the small yellow building across the street from a shuttered mechanic’s shop. Instead of slowing down to make the turn, James sped up, revving the engine so that he blew past his office. Pike stopped chuckling and leaned forward again.

  “Uh, Sheriff,” he said. “I think you missed it.”

  “I didn’t miss anything,” James muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Pike asked. When the sheriff didn’t answer, he asked again, louder, “What does that mean, Sheriff?”

  James ignored him as he drove west toward the city proper. Along the way, he saw a couple other functioning vehicles, but with gas running out, he was practically alone on the road. He used that to his advantage, turning his flashing lights on and driving at a high rate of speed. If he didn’t do what he intended to do quickly, his nerve would fail.

  “Hey, Sheriff, you’re not handing me over to the Macon city police, are you?” Pike said. “I’ve heard the city jail is a dump, and that was before the power went out.”

  Just before the sign to the park entrance, he saw a massive tent camp set in the trees just off the road. It looked a hundred times worse than the small camp at Memorial Park, but it wasn’t his problem, not today. His attention was drawn to a sign in the distance: Ocmulgee Mounds National Historical Park. He slowed down and made a sharp left turn into the park.

  “This is weird, Sheriff,” Pike said. “What’s going on here? I think you at least owe me an explanation, don’t you think? Isn’t that sort of a requirement of law enforcement?”

  James followed the gradual curve through the park to a familiar parking area and pulled into a space within sight of the mounds. They looked like big grassy hills that had been cut and trimmed to give them sharper edges. He killed the engine and got out of the car, even as Pike continued to demand as explanation. When he opened the back door, Pike leaned away from him.

  “Let’s go,” James said, reaching in and grabbing the criminal’s arm. “We’re going to take a little walk. It’ll be nice. Lovely scenery.”

  “Hell, no,” Pike replied. The tinge of laughter had completely left his voice. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Sheriff, but I’ve still got rights. I’m not getting out of this car.”

  He dragged Pike toward him, even as the criminal thrashed and tried to slip from his grasp.

  “You can’t make me walk, Sheriff. You can’t make me!”

  Finally, the sheriff opened the front passenger door and retrieved the 228 from the floorboard. Pike saw it and curled up on his seat, as if to make himself a smaller target, but instead of pointing the gun at him, James pistol whipped him in the side of the head. The bottom edge of the gun handle connected with a spot right above his ear. Pike’s head rocked to one side, and he gasped in pain.

  “Get out and walk,” James said, holstering the gun.

  “Okay, okay.” Pike climbed out of the car. As he did, James noted a small trickle of blood running down the side of his head, tracing the edge of his sideburn. “I’m walking. Calm down.”

  James dragged him away from the car, bumping the door shut with his hip. Then he frog-marched the criminal, following a trail past the Indian mounds toward the distant trees. He made sure to keep a firm grip on his upper arm.

  “You try to run, I’ll shoot you in the back so many times, your heart will get a suntan,” James said.

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Pike said. “You’ve lost your mind. You can’t do this.”

  “Apparently, I can. I’m doing it.”

  They stepped into the woods, the ground turning squishy beneath their feet.

  “I don’t get it, Sheriff. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Just put me back in my puke cell. I’m done trying to escape. Come on. Let’s be pals.”

  “Oh, we’re pals all right,” James said, “and we’re off on a little adventure.”

  They came out of the woods and in sight of the highway. The trail continued on the far side. As they crossed, Pike looked around wildly, as if expecting some kind of ambush. James could feel his resolve slipping.

  “Walk faster,” he said, dragging Pike across the open lanes.

  “This is nuts,” Pike said, struggling not to fall. “I can’t figure you out, Sheriff. Why go to the trouble of bringing me all the way out here?”

  On the far side of the highway, they reentered the woods. James could see the lazy, brown water of the Ocmulgee River at the bottom of a gradual slope. He turned the prisoner to the left, following a path roughly parallel with the water’s edge.

  “What’s the plan, Sheriff,” Pike said. “Talk to me. You’re not just going to shoot me. You could have done that in town.”

  “You’re right,” James replied. “I’m not going to shoot you.”

  As they passed a familiar fallen log, the sheriff scanned the water.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Pike said. “I knew you hadn’t completely lost your mind. For a cop, you’re a reasonable sort of fellow. I can tell. Look, I had to try to get revenge, didn’t I? Anyone would have done the same in my place, but nobody got hurt.”

  Finally, James spotted movement near the water’s edge, and he moved closer to the river, the mud becoming thick and soupy beneath his feet.

  “Somebody got hurt,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Pike said. “That little punch I gave you? Oh, that was nothing. There wasn’t a drop of blood. Come on, man. Don’t overreact.”

  James let go of Pike and pushed h
im toward the river. Pike stumbled forward, and the sheriff planted the sole of his shoe against his back. He kicked, and Pike went flying. Arms straining against the handcuffs, he took a few stumbling steps, his shoes sinking deeper into the mud. Finally, he fell forward, landing on his knees in the shallow water.

  “Get up and run,” James said. “This is your chance, Pike.”

  Pike looked at him over his shoulder, eyes so wide his pupils were like little inky dots. He tried to rise, but muck hindered every movement. Shapes moved in the water nearby. Pike finally rose, but he’d sunk all the way to his knees. When he tried to pull himself free, he fell forward again, splashing in the water.

  “You’re crazy, Sheriff,” he said. “An absolute loon.”

  “That’s true,” James replied. “You helped me get there, friend. Thanks.”

  The alligators came at him from two directions, left and right. They were enormous animals, moving with surprising speed. With a shriek, Pike tried to scramble out of the muck, but there was nowhere to go. One gator grabbed his right arm between its enormous jaws. The other locked onto his left shoulder.

  “Sheriff,” he wailed. “Sheriff, help me!”

  As he stood and watched, James felt his resolve finally crumble, but it was too late to do anything. Even as he reached for his gun, the gators dragged Pike into the river. The criminal’s shrieks became a bubbling last breath as he disappeared beneath the brown water.

  And then he was gone.

  James drew his gun anyway, holding it at his side. After a moment, he put it back into the holster, turned, and walked back the way he’d come.

  11

  Mike couldn’t stop pacing. He was practically wearing a trail in the carpet as he went from the dining room to the front door and back. Shane watched him from the dining room. He felt his brother-in-law’s eyes boring into his back when he walked to the front door. Corbin and Owen were seated on either end of the couch. Corbin busied himself cleaning the shotgun, which he’d disassembled and placed on the end table. Mike heard the soft whisk-whisk of the brush. Really, how often did one have to clean a gun? The old double-barrel shotgun was ancient, and it had never misfired.