She stepped away from the late model Malibu, chatting intensely on the phone. As she walked away from the car, she casually reached her free hand over her shoulder and locked the Malibu's doors. Then she slipped her keys into a small leather purse hanging from her shoulder.
He liked what he saw. He guessed her to be around twenty. He only caught a glimpse of her face, but it was enough. She wore little makeup. No lipstick. She had a slender nose and big eyes and a nicely shaped mouth. He couldn't tell in the dark of the parking lot if she had freckles, but he hoped she did. She had beautiful shoulder-length hair, a rich dark mocha-brown, thick and wavy. Her build was perfect too, average height, slender frame. She wore mid-thigh shorts along with sandals and a lacy white blouse, sheer in the back.
He was struck by the way the young woman walked. Not a wasted step. Concise, he thought. Her walk evoked confidence, yet there was restraint too. Her walk wasn't meant to attract the attention of men or to be suggestive in any way, and he liked that about her.
Once she was inside the bar, he started the van up. He parked it in front of the Malibu with the back end facing her front end. She'd parked her car in a perfect spot as if she knew exactly what he'd need. She'd parked toward the side of the building where you couldn't see the front door and no one who came out would be able to see them. Convenient. If anyone came out, he'd have several seconds to get her into the van before anyone would have a chance to see them. He knew she hadn't parked there for his benefit, but he liked to think that she had. Chances were, she'd simply wanted to avoid getting her nice car run into by some asshole drunk.
He slipped into the back seat and opened the side door. When the moment came, he'd soundlessly slide out. He'd removed the overhead light earlier and the van was shrouded in darkness. It was an older van with double doors in the back. He opened one of the back doors and left it slightly ajar.
All he had to do now was wait.
*****
Natalie Jensen opened the door to McGinty's. She scanned the bar for her roommate, Katy. She found her sitting on a stool at the bar.
"I don't know," she said, doing her absolute best to sound bored. "Maybe. Talk to me later. I'm at McGinty's now. Gotta go. Bye."
Natalie was turning the screws on her boyfriend, Danny. She knew he hated her being at the bar without him. Of course, in her mind, he should have thought of that before committing to a night of drinking and poker with his buddies.
He'd be texting her soon. She had no doubt of that. Natalie joined Katy at the bar.
Katy put on a simpering grin. Her blue eyes already had an alcoholic shine to them. "How's Danny?" she asked, insincerely.
"I don't know," Natalie answered, as if she hadn't a clue or didn't care.
The bartender came up, eyed Natalie as he always did and smiled. "What can I get you?" he asked.
Natalie noticed Katy smiling wildly at the bartender. After a few drinks, Katy's inhibitions—the few she possessed—often leapt out the nearest window.
"Pale ale," Natalie told him.
He smiled easily. "Coming right up."
"He's a hunk," Katy gushed, loud enough for him to hear. Natalie thought so too, but she didn't care. She had Danny.
The "hunk's" name was Mike, and he was one of the regular bartenders at McGinty's. Mike had a lumberjack build and a strong face with a full beard. He was thirty or so and moved easily behind the bar. He had light brown hair, meticulously scruffy as if he'd styled it to look that way. The first few buttons of his shirts were always unbuttoned to show off tufts of his chest hair.
"I'm sure he already knows it, Katy."
Natalie played mother hen to Katy all the time, especially when they went out for drinks. She always did her best to keep the hounds at bay. With Katy, it wasn't always easy. But tonight, she wasn't going to play mother hen. She'd be joining Danny soon. Katy would have to survive on her own.
Being a week night, McGinty's was only half full. Natalie didn't like it when it was too crowded. McGinty's was a spacious bar with lots of tables and a dance floor, and a long bar that ran two-thirds the length of the building. Everything in McGinty's was made of one type of wood or another, and it helped give the bar its western feel.
Katy smiled and rolled her eyes at Natalie. "Oh boy. Gotta pee," she exclaimed. "Wanna come?"
"No. I'm going to wait for my beer."
"Suit yourself," she said, and she was off.
Mike set a coaster in front of her and placed the pale ale on top of it. "On the house," he said.
Right after Mike walked off, a toady man with small dark inset eyes approached Natalie. He was thickly built in his upper body and wore a powder blue dress shirt unbuttoned at the top. He had to be twice her age.
Natalie looked straight ahead and ignored him.
"Hello," he said, leaning casually against the bar. "Having a good night?"
"Fine," Natalie answered without looking at him.
Where the hell was Katy? Natalie sipped on her pale ale and stared at the wall behind the bar. The wall was crowded with antique photos of old western heroes all dressed up. Many wore ten-gallon Stetsons and white shirts with leather vests—nattily dressed for their photos. They sported thick handlebar mustaches and stared from the photos with grim, steady eyes.
The man leaned towards her, almost touching her, an overly-sweet smell wafting from his body.
"If you're lonely," he whispered, "I have a room nearby." His voice trembled as he spoke.
"I'm not lonely," she nearly shouted. She glanced nastily at him, then quickly went back to staring at the cowboys on the wall.
The man moved off without another word.
Just then she got a text from Danny. "Lost my shirt. Not much else left. Please come save me."
"Why should I?" she texted back, though in her mind, she was already out the door.
"Because I miss you," he texted back.
Natalie gave up on busting Danny's chops. She wanted to leave. "All right. Whatever. Be there shortly," she texted him.
Katy made her way back from the bathroom.
"Have to go pick up Danny," Natalie told her.
"Of course, you do," Katy responded sarcastically.
"Watch out for the creep sitting at the other end of the bar," she warned Katy. "The one in the blue shirt. He tried to hit on me while you were gone."
"Not to worry," Katy told her. "I'll be too busy with Mike."
"Wonderful. Try not to get in too much trouble."
*****
He licked his dry lips and tensed when he saw the shaft of light. Maybe it would be her this time. For several seconds, a conical- shaped beam of light extended well out from the front door into the parking lot. He never felt more alive than in these moments.
She came into view near the corner of the building as the light vanished. She walked quickly. She held her phone in her right hand and fished into her purse for her keys.
He unscrewed the cap to the bottle of chloroform and turned his head aside as he doused the folded dish cloth. He screwed the cap back on and slipped silently out of the van. He crouched low and crept toward the front of the van, staying out of sight.
He heard her car locks plunk open. He waited and listened. Her sandals made soft sucking sounds on the hardened earth as she walked toward her car. He waited till she was abreast of the van, and then he moved cat-quick around the front of the van, keeping low and out of sight. He glanced toward the front of the bar. No one was coming. She was only a few feet ahead of him now. He straightened up as he moved toward her.
She stopped and suddenly canted her head as if she'd heard something out of place.
Before she could turn around, he was on her. In one swift movement he reached his arm around her, pinning one arm to her side and clamping his hand on the bicep of her other arm. At the same time, in perfect concert, his other hand moved to cover her nose and mouth with the dish cloth. She dropped her phone and her keys to the ground. She struggled in his grip and the straps of her purs
e slid off her shoulder and down into the crevice of their arms. He stifled her writhing body in his grip. He could feel her panic, her fear. It thrilled him and made him stronger. She wrenched her head side to side to escape the chloroform, but it was no use. He kept the cloth firm over her mouth and nose, and soon her muffled cries dissipated in the folds of the smothering dish cloth. It wouldn't be long now.
He glanced behind him. There was no beam of light stretching out from the front door. They were alone. A scent of strawberries from her hair teased his nostrils. A final moan floated up her throat and she went limp. He lifted her and carried her to the back of the van and gently laid her down.
He retrieved her keys, her phone, and her purse. Never leave anything behind.
In the van, he positioned her on her stomach. He removed the hypodermic from its leather case and carefully injected the needle at a downward angle at the base of her neck on the right side.
As he quietly pulled out of the parking lot, he checked the rearview mirror and glanced one last time at McGinty's. He was certain no one had seen him leave. He accelerated steadily as he headed down St. George Boulevard. Twenty minutes to the spa in Ivins. An easy smile came to him, and he began to hum Highway Don't Care. He couldn't help himself.
Chapter 11
New Plans
As they'd walked along the river bank, Jules had given Nichols an accounting of the morning's supply run. The mayor expressed his concern over how dangerous the supply runs were becoming.
After a while, they settled on the east bank of the Gideon river. They stood quietly, not talking. Jules couldn't help but be struck by the stark beauty of the summer day. High above them, a flawless blue sky, bright and deep, stretched to the edge of the horizons. Jules felt the sun's pleasantly warm rays caress her face like a sheer silk scarf, soft and weightless. The day was breathtakingly beautiful, almost surreal, and it reminded Jules of her childhood days back in Wisconsin. It was the kind of day you could get lost in. Jules had forgotten how a summer day could mesmerize you with its intoxicating beauty.
Mayor Nichols stood with his hands behind his back in a relaxed pose. He took in a deep breath and gazed across the river at the town of Gideon, beaming like a proud parent.
"Gideon is a great town, Jules," he said.
"I'm sure it is," Jules agreed with him.
He took in another exaggerated, deep breath, and let out an "ah" as he exhaled.
Jules let Lawrence Nichols have his moment. She waited a few minutes before launching into small talk. "By the way, there's something I'm curious about," she started. "Your wife is Mormon, but you're not?"
"Yes. And, even after twenty-seven years of marriage, she's still trying to convert me. To keep her happy, I accompany her to church a few times each year on special occasions. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter."
Lawrence Nichols wore an ivory-colored Henley and the same khaki shorts he'd worn the other day. He was all smiles.
"I'm not sure I've ever know any Mormons," Jules noted.
"Before I moved to Utah to teach at Southern Utah, I only knew a few Mormons in passing. They prefer to be called LDS by the way—Latter Day Saints. If you're interested, the official title is, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
"I grew up in California, went to college at Berkeley. Wasn't aware of any Mormons there. I didn't know what to expect when I was hired at Southern Utah. I lived in Cedar City for a few years, then moved to Gideon. Cedar City is definitely more diverse, at least for Southern Utah, but I found Gideon to be more serene, and I liked that. Both are quite picturesque, as I'm sure you've noticed. And, as I'm sure you've also figured out, Gideon isn't for everyone. I suppose you could say Gideon is an acquired taste. It's one I acquired."
"So, half the town is Mormon?"
"Yes. When I first moved to Gideon, it was probably closer to eighty percent. Over the years it's changed. Five years ago, Hinckley Tech relocated one of their software divisions here. That changed virtually everything in Gideon. Before then, most people in Gideon worked in places like Minersville, Cedar City, and St. George. Local businesses in Gideon were barely getting by. When Hinckley came, it was an economic boon for Gideon. It really helped prop up the local economy. They guaranteed a hundred jobs for locals, good paying jobs, and even provided training. In addition, a hundred and fifty Hinckley employees relocated from California. Turned out to be a godsend for Hinckley Tech and Gideon."
"How did they find you," Jules asked.
Lawrence Nichols smiled. "Well, I suppose you could say I found them. I went to Cal-Berkeley with Daniel Hinckley. We were friends at the time. So, I guess you could say our past friendship gave me an 'in.' After an exploratory process and some negotiations, we came to an agreement. We provided Hinckley Tech with some serious tax breaks and other incentives. They provided us with quality jobs. The increase in population was a real boost for our local businesses. It all came together quite nicely. And it may have played a small part in my becoming mayor.
"As for Mormons, I'll say this, they make for great neighbors. Personally, I wouldn't want it any other way. Clean, hard-working, industrious, law-abiding. And they don't smoke or drink." He paused and shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps a bit overzealous at times."
Jules grinned curiously. "Overzealous?"
"Well," he said, lowering his voice. "Let's just say they'd like it if everyone joined their club. They're well-meaning, of course. Promise of salvation and all that. Stick around here long enough, Jules, I'm sure you'll get an invitation too." He gave her a wickedly humorous grin. "I'm kidding, of course. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention any of this chitchat to Barbara."
"I'll keep it to myself."
"Really, when it comes down to it, they're pretty much like everyone else. And you may not realize it, Jules, but you already know several Mormons. There's the Hafoka twins. You sort of met them the day you came to Gideon. There's Gordo and Josh from Caleb's crew. Josh is a convert. He converted after he'd been in Gideon for a year or two. He came here from California with Hinckley Tech. And there's Heath, of course. Well … sort of."
Jules looked at Nichols. "What does that mean?"
"I suspect Heath attends church mostly for the benefit of his daughter. I don't think he's all that serious about it. And, of course, his wife isn't LDS at all. That makes for an interesting dynamic. One I'm quite familiar with. Well, enough gossip. Look, Jules. I know you didn't ask me to take a walk with you to talk about Gideon and Mormons."
He picked up a stone and skipped it across the river.
"No. You're right. There's something I needed to ask you, and I wanted to keep it between the two of us. I'm wondering if there's a therapist here in camp."
He turned and looked at Jules. "I'm afraid we don't have a therapist in Gideon, Jules. Even before the virus, we didn't have one. If someone needed help, they would usually go to Cedar City or St. George."
Jules didn't share the details of Addy's problems, only that she had issues she needed to work through.
"I couldn't help but notice those nicks on her face. That have anything to do with it?" he asked. He was probing gently but wasn't insistent.
"I really can't say," Jules told him. "Are you sure there's no one she could talk to?"
Nichols combed his white beard with his fingertips. "Well, actually, there might be someone. Sharon Gleason. She was a counselor and assistant principal at Gideon High. She helps out with the older kids. As a counselor, she's used to dealing with teenage problems. She might be able to help. I could talk to her if you wanted me to."
"A school counselor?" Jules asked. She wondered if it would do any good and didn't know if Addy would even go along with it.
"Yes. She's great with the kids," he said.
"Okay," Jules told him. She wasn't thrilled but didn't see an alternative. She thought about asking him if there was a family Addy could stay with but decided to hold off.
"Maybe it would be best if Sharon talked to you first," he suggested
.
"Sure. I think that's a good idea."
*****
After lunch, Jules met up with Caleb's crew at the same picnic table to go over the morning's events and decide what the next step would be. Other than Caleb, the only other one who appeared fairly calm was Josh. He sat stiff and quiet as if he were sitting reverently on a pew at church.
Everyone sat in the same place at the table as they had the night before. It occurred to Jules she was likely sitting in the same place on the bench where Joel had sat before his demise. Dead man's seat, she mused to herself, not that she was superstitious.
A sudden gust of wind swayed the overhead canopy of branches, shifting the dappled sunlight back and forth across the table.
"How in the hell did they know we was there?" Cole asked, echoing what everyone else was thinking.
Caleb sat hunched forward, scratching away at a bubble of chipped paint on the surface of the table. He stopped and lifted his head and fixed his eyes on Jules. "Maybe they've got some kind of surveillance going on."
"But there ain't no electricity in Cedar," Cole objected in a complaining voice. "How they gonna have surveillance?"
Everyone followed Caleb's lead and looked expectantly to Jules, waiting for her to share her expertise, not that she had much where surveillance was concerned. But Jules knew there weren't that many options. "There are two likely possibilities," she started. "First, they could place spies in a home near the stores to keep an eye on things. But the problem with that is that they'd have to sleep sometime. They could do shifts, but there's a simpler solution. Battery-operated surveillance equipment. Most likely a motion-sensor alarm with a receiver. That way they wouldn't have to watch. They'd only have to listen. The moment you walk in, they know you're there."
"Only happened these last few runs," Gordo added.
"We need to figure out what we're going to do," Caleb said calmly. "Cedar's our best option for food, and we still need more food for the winter months."
No one said anything at first.
Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ Page 11