Jules didn't know how she should feel. Till this morning, she'd only fired her weapon once in the seven years she'd worked for the FBI, a warning shot for a suspect who was attempting to flee. There was a part of her that didn't want to own what she'd done. But Glickman was trying to kill her.
"My ears are ringing. Shouldn't we get out of here?" Addy was practically yelling even though she wasn't more than ten feet away.
Before Jules could answer, she noticed Glickman looking up at her. His face had taken on a puzzled expression. His head rested on the cement floor, and he didn't seem to have the strength to lift it. "You," he stated accusingly in a weak, faltering voice. "What did you have to go and do that for?"
Jules blinked. "You were trying to kill me, Mr. Glickman," She told him.
"You were in my house, you crazy bitch," he whined. "What were you doing in my house?"
Glickman's breathing was ragged and every breath turned into a labored wheezing. His hands now rested quietly on his chest.
"Those murders in Tempe and Las Vegas and St. George. Was that you, Mr. Glickman?"
"What?" he asked, sounding confused, his voice fading. "I told you before that wasn't me. You … you came here and killed me over something I didn't do? Is … is that what you're saying?"
Jules regained her composure. She looked at Addy, then back to Glickman. "You've done plenty," she told him.
Glickman started to say something but coughed up blood instead. He tried to catch his breath, but there was none left. A last feeble wheeze and he was gone.
The basement became silent. All Jules could hear was the ringing in her ears. She stared at Glickman, fascinated by the still nature of his face as if it might become animated again at any moment. She'd seen several dead bodies during her seven years in the FBI, but this was the first one she'd been directly responsible for.
"Can we get out of here now?" Addy pleaded.
"Yes, okay," Jules said, but she didn't move. She stared at Glickman, thinking there was something she needed to do. But there was nothing to do. She suddenly realized the flurry of gunshots would attract any infected nearby. Though she hadn't seen many infected in the vicinity, whatever grays were nearby would be heading for Glickman's house. The realization shook Jules from her stupor.
She knelt down and rummaged through Glickman's pockets and located a set of keys in his jeans. The high-beamed flashlight was on the bottom step of the stairs and Jules grabbed it and turned it back on and headed over to Addy. She shined the flashlight on Addy's wrist shackle and selected a small key and fit it into the keyhole. The key fit perfectly. Once free of the shackle, Addy rubbed her wrist vigorously for a few seconds.
"We better get going," Jules told her.
Addy stood hunched down, shyly covering her breasts and genital area.
Jules suddenly remembered her gun. She didn't want to leave it behind. "Stay here, Addy. I have to find my gun." She touched Addy's arm lightly to reassure her. Addy flinched from the unexpected touch.
Jules found her Glock on the floor next to a stack of cardboard boxes propped up against the wall. She slipped the gun back into its saddle holster. Having the gun back in her holster made Jules feel better as if things were somehow back to normal.
She went back for Addy and they hustled upstairs. Addy needed something to wear, but she refused to wear any of Glickman's clothes or the dresses in the closet, and she wouldn't step into the bedroom to look for her own clothes. Jules rifled through the drawers and searched Glickman's closet but didn't see any clothes that might have belonged to Addy. She figured Glickman had tossed them.
"I have some clothes in my car that should fit you," she told Addy. "We have to get going."
The ringing in Jules' ears persisted. She realized she'd been talking louder because of it.
Addy's eyes had a wounded look in them, and she wasn't as talkative as she'd been in the basement. In the aftermath of the shooting, Addy seemed to have drifted into a state of shock or depression, maybe both. Jules couldn't even begin to imagine all that Addy had been through.
Jules avoided looking at the half-dozen crusted nicks on the left side of Addy's face and neck where the point of Glickman's knife had broken Addy's skin.
"Do you think you can walk on your bare feet out there?" Jules asked.
"Yeah. I think so," Addy said glumly.
Before they left, Jules checked the bag Glickman had left on the kitchen counter. There were several cans of food in the bag and Jules took the bag with them.
They went out the back door. Jules took the nose clip off and stuffed it into one of her pockets. She kept an eye on Addy as Addy stepped gingerly across the hardened ground. When they got to the fence, Jules helped Addy avoid the barbed wire.
As they rounded the corner of the house, Jules stopped in her tracks. An infected man was peering inquisitively into the opened door of the Cherokee. He had dingy hair wildly ratted and wore a ripped navy t-shirt covered with a silvery dusting. The t-shirt hung loosely over his emaciated frame.
When he realized they were there, his sad droopy eyes became animated and he moved toward them.
Addy started to scream but covered her mouth to muffle it.
Jules worked quickly. She put the bag and the shotgun on the ground and drew the Glock from its holster. She raised the gun into a firing position and waited. She would wait till he was twelve to fifteen feet away. Next to her, Addy was trying to stifle a whimper.
The infected man had backed away from the car and was stumbling unevenly toward them. Jules thought he must have been amongst the first wave of infected. The longer they were infected, the slower they moved. He was twelve feet away now.
Addy began to whine.
Jules hesitated before squeezing the trigger. The bullet struck him above his right eye and he collapsed to the ground.
"C'mon. We need to go."
Once in the car, Jules set the bag of cans into one of the boxes and placed the shotgun in back within easy reach. She grabbed the travel bag and dug out some underwear, a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt she thought might fit Addy. While they were both five-five, Addy looked anorexic.
As Addy slipped into the t-shirt, Jules asked her where her parents lived. Addy finished putting the t-shirt on and stared into her lap. She fidgeted with the bottom hem of the shirt. She turned and tried to smile at Jules, but her face broke up and she started to cry. "They're dead," was all she managed to get out.
Jules made a quick u-turn and headed south toward the freeway. She floored it. A block and a half ahead of them, three grays lumbered resolutely in their direction. Jules didn't give them a second thought. She was more worried about what to do with Addy.
"Is there someone you can stay with, Addy?" she asked.
Addy was crying softly. She brushed her tears away with her hand. She didn't look at Jules. "No, not really."
"Addy, I'm headed to Utah, a place called Gideon. If there's somewhere you can go, you need to tell me now."
"Can't I go with you?" she asked.
The high-pitched tone ringing in Jules' ears persisted. It was like a static tone from a Tibetan bowl and Jules found it annoying. She swerved around the three grays in the road and wondered what she should do with Addy. A larger group of infected loomed a few blocks ahead. Jules turned left at the next intersection to avoid them.
Jules didn't want to take Addy with her. She wasn't used to dealing with teenagers and Addy was emotionally damaged.
"There could be some trouble where I'm going. It might not be safe. You might be better staying here with someone you know."
After she'd said it, Jules felt a ripple of guilt pass through her. Addy had lost her parents and been chained up and raped by a monster. In her mind, Jules tried to rationalize her stance but was losing the battle.
Addy continued to cry softly. "I won't be any trouble. I promise."
The freeway was less than a block away.
"All right. You can come with me. But when we get to Gideon, if t
here's a family there that can take you in, you'll have to stay with them. Understood?"
"Yes. I understand."
Chapter 3
The Shell Station
Jules pulled the jeep over not long after they'd left Kingman. They had to eat. Addy went through a can of baked beans along with a bag of Fritos Corn Chips and washed them down with two bottles of water.
She was sleeping soundly now and Jules stole a look at her travel companion. Addy's head rested against the window, her mouth opened slightly. Her arms were folded across her chest in the same self-protective posture as earlier.
Jules guessed Addy to be around seventeen. She had dyed wildfire red hair, not quite touching her shoulders, with an inch of brown roots showing. Her complexion was severely pale as if she'd never seen the sun. Jules thought Addy's best feature were her eyes—she'd noticed them earlier. They were beautiful. Addy's eyes were the light translucent green of a lacewing which perfectly complemented her pale skin.
Jules turned onto highway 64 to avoid Flagstaff. An hour later they were approaching Grand Canyon National Park. Jules had planned the route to avoid as many cities and towns as possible. Page in northern Arizona would be the first real town they hit and Page was a small town. If things went well, they could be in Gideon by early evening.
Grand Canyon Park loomed ahead of them like a rock planet drenched in sunshine. For a moment, Jules considered stopping but quickly dismissed the idea. She'd never been into sightseeing. Other than images on the internet, this was her first time seeing the Grand Canyon. She thought of it as beautifully crafted in a rugged sort of way.
Jules reasoned her sudden impulse to play tourist had to do with Addy. She had no clue whatsoever what to do with Addy and felt perplexed about it.
Even on the park's outskirts it was a majestic sight, and Jules might have been able to enjoy it if it hadn't been for the image of Andrew Glickman that kept intruding into her mind's eye. It was the befuddled look that nagged at her. As Glickman lay dying, he seemed genuinely mystified that Jules would have asked him about the Calligrapher killings. He came off as indignant and seemed offended Jules would have killed him over something he didn't do. She felt a residue of guilt and tried to shake it off. She reminded herself that Glickman was trying to kill her and shooting him was a clear-cut case of self-defense. And then there was what Glickman had done to Addy. Still, the feelings persisted.
As she drove, Jules toyed with the black thread tied around the base of her little finger. Her thoughts shifted to Gideon and George Albrecht. He didn't fit the profile either, but Jules was certain there was a connection there. Beckerman believed there was.
Her hopes of finding the Calligrapher rested on the crazy phone message from Beckerman. She was sure there was something there, but Jules had struggled to decipher Beckerman's message.
Highway 64 turned east right before the park's entrance and Jules took the turn. The highway would trace the border of the South Rim area.
Addy stirred and shifted in her seat. She mumbled in a petulant tone as if she were talking back to someone. A few moments later, her eyes fluttered open. She looked around in a panic till she remembered Jules.
She yawned exaggeratedly and gave Jules a grumpy, just- awakened look. "Where are we?" she asked.
Jules nodded left toward the mountain range. "Grand Canyon," she said.
"Oh," Addy responded, sounding bored or tired.
Jules let Addy wake up a few minutes before asking her the question that had been on her mind. "Want to take a look?"
"Huh?"
Jules glanced at Addy. "The Grand Canyon. Do you want to take a look?"
Addy shot her a look as if she were crazy. "No. You're kidding, right?"
"Never mind," Jules told her.
They settled into silence as they skirted the south border of the park. Jules focused on her driving and Addy drew her legs up and hugged them against her chest.
Jules noticed the ringing in her ears had nearly subsided.
After a while, Addy broke the silence. "I have to pee," she blurted out.
Jules couldn't see a good option anywhere, so she pulled off the road thirty yards and stopped. "The jeep will give us cover."
Addy gave Jules a sheepish look. Jules dug out a roll of toilet paper from a box of odds and ends and joined Addy outside. The midday sun was blindingly bright and the heat was oppressive. Jules couldn't wait to get back in the car.
Once they were on their way again, Addy asked Jules a question. "What's in Gideon?"
Jules had hoped to avoid this conversation. "I'm looking for someone who lives in Gideon," she said.
Addy sat huddled in a tight ball and looked out the window. "You mean someone like Mr. Glickman."
Jules chose her words carefully. "Maybe. I don't know if he's like that or not. That's why I'm going to Gideon. I need to find out if he's the one we've been looking for."
"If he is, will you kill him like you did Mr. Glickman?"
"Addy, I didn't want to kill Mr. Glickman," Jules said. She could feel a rush of blood tingle her cheeks. "He didn't give me a choice. I think you know that."
"I know," Addy said, her voice remote and light as a feather. "It's all right. Mr. Glickman deserved to die."
Jules wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't know what would be appropriate. All she could think to do was change the direction of the conversation. "Addy, when we get to Gideon, we might not be able to tell them why we're there. We'll have to wait and see what it's like when we get there. I'll decide if it's safe to tell people why we're there."
Addy stared blankly out the window.
"One more thing, Addy," Jules began. "Could you look at me, please."
Addy turned.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Addy. That's a promise."
Addy didn't say anything and she went back to looking out the window.
Jules sped up. She wanted to get going. Addy's emotional state had Jules feeling unsettled. She wanted to help but dealing with teenagers was outside her comfort zone. Jules was used to adults, colleagues mostly, and she'd made it a practice never to become emotionally entangled with them. Jules eyes drifted to the gas gauge. They needed gas. There was a quarter tank left, not nearly enough to get to Gideon.
*****
A half hour after they'd turned onto Highway 89 heading north, Jules spotted a Shell service station less than a mile ahead. There were two vehicles at the station, a pickup truck parked in the back and a sedan in the front. She wondered if anyone was around. It didn't make sense that the vehicles would be abandoned, though if the owners had been infected, they might have wandered off.
Jules slowed as they approached the station. The sedan in front of the Mart was a late model black Camry. The pickup truck in back was a large white Ford F-250. Jules cruised to the front part of the store and tried to see inside. The store was dim from a lack of lighting and Jules couldn't see much. She drove past the Camry and parked at an angle that would allow her to pull away without hindrance.
"Stay here, Addy. I'll be back in a minute."
"You're not going in there, are you?" Addy asked.
"I'm just going to take a look."
Jules left the keys in the ignition and left the door open in case they had to leave quickly. At the glass door, she cupped her hands over her eyes to shade them from the overhead sun. She peered inside. The back of the store was dark and shadowy, but she could see the front area clearly. It was a mess. Items were scattered everywhere on the floor and a food carousel had been toppled. Surprisingly, most of the store's products were still on the shelves. The Food Mart hadn't been ransacked for supplies and Jules found that surprising. The Shell Station was in the middle of nowhere, but a few travelers must have stopped by.
Jules sensed something wasn't right.
She drew the Glock from its holster and pushed the door open as quietly as she could. She felt tense and briskly alert. A hint of something out of place caught her attention. It b
arely registered at first—something in her peripheral vision. She turned and saw what appeared to be a human bone lying on the floor, half covered by several bags of chips. She hadn't looked that closely at the floor, but now she did, and she noticed more bones scattered here and there amidst the debris.
A sharp knocking sound startled Jules. It was Addy. She was rapping her knuckles on the car window trying to get Jules' attention. She was trying to mouth a message to Jules.
Jules held a hand up to let Addy know it was okay. Before she could turn around, she heard a shuffling noise in the back near the refrigerated section, accompanied by a throaty cry that echoed through the store. The hairs on the back of Jules' neck bristled. She heard movement but saw nothing. A few seconds later, he appeared at the end of the aisle in full view—a big man dressed in a red and yellow employee smock with multiple patterns of blood spatter across the front of it.
He lurched helter-skelter down the aisle toward Jules, rasping deliriously. Jules tried to close the door but the hinges were pneumatic and the door wouldn't close. She stumbled backwards and raised her gun, ready to fire. Right before he got to the glass door, the door closed shut with a soft hiss. He slammed hard into the door and it clattered but held together.
The man leaned his head against the door and leered at Jules with dull, sickly yellow eyes. He grumbled incoherently and smacked the glass with the palm of his hand.
Jules realized she'd stopped breathing and took a breath. The man appeared to have been the store's clerk, probably in his early twenties. The nameplate on the smock spelled out the name John. He was six-foot three with a thick build like a wrestler. His facial skin looked thin as crepe paper, its coloring a moldy gray. He was different from the infected Jules had seen. He didn't have the weather-beaten look most of them had, and he looked well-fed.
Keeping an eye on him, Jules walked back to the car and slid into the front seat. She'd been spooked by the young clerk.
"Why did you do that?" Addy asked accusingly.
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 3