No Direction Home (Book 2): Eastwood

by Mike Sheridan

  CHAPTER 23

  The younger girl, Laura, was nine years old. The older one was seventeen-year-old Jenny. Both sat with Maya in the back of the truck while Pete steered it back toward the highway.

  “Where are you girls from?” Maya asked after she had introduced everyone.

  “Athens,” Jenny replied, untying the remains of the rope from one of her wrists and throwing it out the window. She was the more subdued of the two. Being older, she was aware exactly how dangerous their predicament had been, and it appeared she’d shielded Laura from the reality of the situation.

  “Did you know each other before the pandemic?”

  Laura bobbed her head vigorously. “We lived in the same apartment block but we weren’t really friends. After my mommy and daddy died, Jenny came over to help me.”

  “I heard her crying when I passed by her door,” Jenny explained. “So I brought her back to my apartment. We’ve been together ever since.”

  Laura smiled at her serenely. “I’m so lucky you found me.”

  With her pale skin, bright blue eyes, and golden curls, Ralph couldn’t help think just how like a little doll she looked. “How long ago did you leave Athens?” he asked.

  “Yesterday. When our food ran out,” Jenny replied. “There was no choice.”

  “We got so hungry!” Laura piped up again. “We just had to leave.”

  Jenny stared at Ralph, holding the Bushmaster between his knees in the front seat, both hands on the barrel. “I can’t believe you found us. When you first got out of the car…I…I thought you were Bob and Joe’s friends.”

  Ralph turned sideways in his seat to stare back at her. “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “Well, because, you…you…”

  “Because you look so mean and ugly,” Laura interjected. She poked her head through the front seats and frowned. “Are those real scars or is that special effects? You know, like in the movies.”

  “They’re real, little doll. Sorry, I can’t just peel them off.”

  Laura stared at him intently a moment longer. “Cool.” She tilted her head back again and faced Maya. “Bob and Joe were bad. They tied Jenny up, then they tied me up too. They said if I tried to run off, they would hurt her.”

  “Bob and Joe aren’t going to be bad no more,” Ralph grunted.

  “I’m glad!” Jenny blurted out. “If you’d let them go, they would have gone off and found some other girls, I’m sure of it.”

  Maya stared at her with a look of real concern. “Jenny, you sure you’re all right? They didn’t…you know?”

  Jenny shook her head. “They only caught us a little while ago. They’d just finished putting up the tent when you got there.”

  “Where did they find you?”

  “In a town called Dawsonville. We were in a supermarket looking for food. At first they were nice to us, but when we didn’t want to go with them, they grabbed us and took us up to the lake. They said if I let them do what they wanted with me, they wouldn’t harm Laura. I couldn’t have them hurting her, so I agreed. I-I didn’t know what else to do. It was awful.” Jenny broke off into a sob. Her shoulders shook, and the tears that had been threatening to come all this time poured down her face.

  Maya put a hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s all right, precious. You’re safe now.” Other than the sound of Jenny’s sobbing, all was quiet in the car.

  “Where are we going?” Laura finally asked. “Are you taking us back to your house?”

  They had reached the junction of the highway. Pete turned left and headed in the direction of Ellijay. “Not yet,” he said, looking up at Laura through the rearview mirror. “We’re looking for recruits to take back to our camp. When we’ve got enough, we’ll head back there.”

  Laura’s brow furrowed. “What’s a recruit?”

  “You know, fellow survivors who want to join our group. Good people we feel will contribute to the camp.”

  “Cool!” Laura chirped. “Can we be your recruits? We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Jenny?”

  Jenny wiped the tears from her face and smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  Pete glanced over at Ralph and winked. “What you think, partner. You cool with that?”

  Ralph pretended to consider things a moment. “Well, Walter didn’t exactly say what sort of recruits he was looking for, now did he? Only that they should get along with everybody. Laura and Jenny fit the bill, so yeah, I’m cool with that.” He turned in his seat and grinned at the two. “Congratulations, girls. You are officially Camp Eastwood’s very first recruits. We’re thrilled to have you on board.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Leaving Camp Benton’s main checkpoint, Papa Three behind him, Rollins strode down the driveway toward the Cookson Road junction. He was alone, armed with only his police-issue Smith & Wesson concealed in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

  He was tense. Tired too. Since his early morning conversation with Mason, he hadn’t been back to sleep. As soon as their talk ended, he’d doubled the guards along the camp’s perimeter, then convened an emergency council meeting.

  A short time after that, Liz, the only survivor from the attack on the lodge, arrived at the camp. He and Mary Sadowski talked to her for over an hour, trying to get a sense of how well-armed Mason and his gang were. They gleaned little from the distraught woman other than there had been a least a dozen men, all carrying rifles.

  An hour ago, Mason had been back in contact with him. The two agreed to meet on Cookson Creek Road at the midpoint between the two camps. Immediately, Mary had prepared for the meeting, positioning her best marksmen in the trees behind the road. Farther south, they’d seen Mason’s men making similar preparations.

  Reporting back, Mary informed Rollins that three bodies had been dumped at the top of their driveway. She recognized them immediately as members of the Camp Knox group. Rollins had been shocked. Things didn’t bode well for Ned Granger, and he shuddered to think how his friend might be being treated.

  Mary had been concerned about the meeting. “John, this could be a trap,” she warned him. “You have to wait for Mason to get within shooting range of the snipers before you show yourself. After the meet, you make sure you leave first, you hear? This sonofabitch is hellbent on taking out as many of us as he can before attacking our camp.”

  Reaching the end of the driveway, Rollins peered around the junction in the direction of the lodge. It was 11:55 a.m. In five minutes, he would meet the killer of three of his men. One who still held his friend Ned Granger captive.

  At 12:02 p.m., a black pickup truck emerged around the next bend and came to a stop. Rollins took out a pair of compact binoculars from his jacket pocket and raised them to his eyes. Five hundred yards away, the driver’s door swung open and a huge bald man wearing digital camo pants, black boots, and a gray T-shirt stepped out.

  He stooped over and talked into the vehicle briefly, then slammed the door and started up the road toward Rollins. Remembering Sadowski’s instructions, Rollins waited until he passed a blue ribbon she’d tied to tree as a marker before stepping out onto the road and walking toward him.

  When the two men came to within twenty feet of each other, the man stopped and placed his hands on his hips.

  “Morning, Sheriff,” he said in a distinct low-toned voice that Rollins immediately recognized from their previous conversations. “Glad to see you could make it.”

  “Before we go any further, you need to show me Ned,” Rollins replied tersely, “or this conversation is over before it even begins.”

  If Mason couldn’t prove Granger was still alive, Rollins intended killing him on the spot there and then. He’d take his chances on making it back to safety afterward.

  Mason leered at him. “The suspicious type, huh? Well, guess I’d be the same in your situation.”

  Turning around, he waved his arm. Moments later, from around the back of the pickup, two men dragged a figure out. Rollins pulled out his glasses again to see a haggard but ver
y much alive Ned Granger step into view. His clothes were rumpled and mud-stained, and he had a white bandage around his right forearm. The bottom part of his left jean leg had been cut off, and there was a second bandage wrapped around his shin.

  “As you can see, we’ve been taking care of Ned. My girl patched him up real good.”

  “You killed three of my men in cold blood, now you’re holding my friend prisoner,” Rollins said. “You expect me to thank you?”

  Mason shrugged. “I got sixty men to take care of. I do what I have to do.”

  Rollins held his gaze. “I got a lot of people to take care of too, but I don’t go around murdering people. All right, Mason, what’s this all about?”

  “It’s pretty simple, Sheriff. You got something I want. Thought you might want to trade it for Ned.”

  Rollins hesitated. He was sure the terms for saving his friend would be high. He couldn’t afford to sound overly keen. “Depends on what you want. I got other folk to consider here, not just Ned. There’s only so much in the way of supplies I can give you.”

  “Nah, I got enough food and ammo to last me a while,” Mason responded. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

  “What then, medical supplies? I could spare a little, I guess.”

  “Got them too.” Mason looked past Rollins and pointed toward the camp driveway. “I hear you got a real nice spread up there by the lake. Good facilities, plenty of cabins. Perfect place for a group my size. Like I told you, I got over sixty people to take care of.”

  Rollins stared at him disbelievingly. “You want me to trade our entire camp for Ned?”

  “I’m taking it one way or another. Thought you might want to spare any more bloodshed.” Mason eyed Rollins up and down. “So…what do you say?”

  “You’re crazy,” Rollins replied, barely keeping his temper under control. “There’s no way I can agree to that.”

  Mason shrugged. “There’s probably other people you need to speak to for a decision like that. Go talk to them.” He stared back at his pickup. “Radio me by five this evening, otherwise it’s not looking good for your friend.”

  For a brief moment, Rollins was tempted to whip out his M&P9 and plant a bullet in Mason’s forehead. Only the vague hope that there might be some way to save Granger held him back. “I’ll do that. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  Before Mason could respond, Rollins turned and walked briskly back toward the junction again, just like Mary Sadowski had told him to.

  “You got until five o’clock, Sheriff, then Ned’s dead!” Mason’s deep voice bellowed out after him. “Soon after that, so are you!”

  ***

  “He wants us to do what?” Bert Olvan exclaimed, both eyebrows shooting up. “He must be out of his goddamned mind!”

  Immediately after returning to camp, Rollins and his three deputies had gone straight to the staff room to discuss what had transpired during his encounter with Mason.

  “He’s trying to keep us off balance,” Rollins replied. “Told me he had sixty men. Maybe I’d have believed him if he hadn’t said it twice.”

  “You sure he’s lying?” Henry Perter asked nervously. “We don’t stand a chance against that many.”

  “I can’t say for sure. Let’s hope Kit has some news when he gets back.”

  Before the meeting, Rollins had sent one of his men on a scouting mission to Wasson Lodge to assess Mason’s strength and, with a bit of luck, find out where he was holding Granger. It seemed an ideal time to do it while everyone was preparing for the encounter on Cookson Creek Road.

  Though it was dangerous, Kit Halpern, a young man in his twenties, had immediately volunteered for the assignment. He had been close to the three murdered men, and was determined to do whatever he could to avenge their deaths.

  “Then what?” Mary Sadowski asked grimly. “You got a plan to turn this thing around?”

  Rollins paused a moment to think, aware that all eyes were on him. The situation between the two groups had quickly turned into a cat and mouse game. Instinct told him it was up to the Bentons to make the next move.

  “Soon as we get a better idea of Mason’s numbers, we go on the offensive and catch him off guard. It’s our best shot at saving Ned. The camp too.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Making as little noise as possible, Kit Halpern paddled out of the main lake and steered his one-man kayak into a narrow inlet no more than thirty feet wide. After a few more strokes, he lifted the two-piece paddle and glided toward where a stand of pines marked the end of the channel. Five hundred yards due south of his position lay Wasson Lodge.

  The bank was too steep to drag the kayak out onto. He grabbed a short length of cord attached to the stern’s grab handle and tied up to an overhanging branch. Placing his hands to either side of the cockpit, he pulled himself out and clambered up onto the rocks.

  Armed with a nine millimeter pistol and a tactical knife, Kit knew just how dangerous the mission he’d volunteered for was. Mason and his bandits had murdered three innocent men and taken Ned Granger hostage. Since then, they’d occupied the lodge, killing most of its occupants.

  The loss of his friends at the ambush had been a huge shock. Over the course of the past ten days, Kit had come to know them well. Granger was an experienced soldier, tough but fair. He’d learned a lot from him, also from Bob Harper and Joe Macey. Not only how to fire a weapon, but how to be strong—inside, where it really counted. Bob Harper in particular had taken him under his wing and coached him daily, stressing how even though he was still young, he had to remain brave and steadfast in these perilous times. Humanity was counting on it.

  Though he burned with anger over their senseless deaths, he knew he had to remain calm and focused if he hoped to help Granger. And Sheriff Rollins’s parting words rung in his ears.

  “Kit, your first objective is to assess Mason’s strength. We need to know how many men he has. Mary will do a head count on Cookson Road, you try and gauge how many men he’s left at the camp. If Ned’s still alive, Mason will bring him to the meeting to show proof of life. Afterward, when he brings him back to the lodge, see if you can find out where they’re keeping him.”

  Rollins had then placed a hand on his shoulder, staring at him intently. “The most important thing is that you minimize risk. No point in finding out everything only to get yourself killed, you hear?”

  Kit set off into the forest. Keeping away from the foot trails, he worked his way through the trees. After two hundred yards, he slowed down. He’d been told that tripwire had been lain around the lodge, and he needed to be careful. Every step he took, he lifted his boot off the ground before placing it slowly down in front of him again.

  Ten minutes later, he reached the edge of the forest. Ahead, he could make out the lodge. Outside, a man sat slouched on a stool smoking a cigarette, a semi-automatic rifle leaning against a stack of sandbags next to him.

  In front of the building, several pickup trucks were parked in the forecourt while behind, facing out onto the lake, was a large open field. In the middle were four trailers in a neat row. Scattered untidily around them were several more RVs—an assortment of camper vans, Winnebagos, and travel trailers, in front of which people either stood chatting or sat at tables, drinking from coffee mugs.

  Kit squatted behind a large tree and took out a notebook and pen. He began the head count, also sketching out the defensive configuration of the camp. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, he added to the count as several other men, and a few women, came in and out of the trailers. In total, he counted eleven men and four women.

  He had to wait a while longer before he heard the sound of engines. Moments later, a black GMC Canyon appeared on the driveway, followed by a bottle-green Ford F-150. Tailing them was a big-engined motorcycle of some description.

  All three vehicles pulled up directly in front of the lodge. The door to the GMC opened and an enormous bald-headed man got out. Simultaneously, four armed men jumped out of the load be
d. Or, at least three of them were armed. Squinting, Kit recognized the last one to gingerly haul himself down off the tailgate as Ned Granger.

  His breath quickened as the group headed in his direction, toward where the guard now stood attentively at his post. Kit pressed his body close against the tree, not daring to stick as much as his nose out.

  As they got closer, he could hear them perfectly. “Russ, you need to get to work on Ned,” a deep-toned voice spoke out. “I need information before we hit their camp tonight.”

  “Tonight?” A higher-pitched voice replied in a surprised tone. “You plan on taking the camp that soon?”

  “Nah, we’ll just do a hit and run, shake them up some more. Just see to it that Ned helps us out. You can do that for us, can’t you, Ned?”

  “Go to hell, Mason. You won’t get anything from me, you sonofabitch!” the defiant voice of Ned Granger retorted.

  There was a chuckle before Mason spoke again. “Guess you’re going to need that blowtorch after all, Russ. Told you.”

  The second man laughed. “Not sure if I can find one that easy. Don’t worry, I got everything I need to make him talk.”

  “Good,” Mason grunted. “Grab some lunch, then take him back to Old Fort where no one can hear him scream. I don’t want Tania complaining about it. Women are kinda squeamish about that sort of thing.”

  There was some more laughter, then the voices receded as they headed farther into the field.

  Kit crept back from the tree and stole away into the forest. His job was done. Now all he had to do was make it back to his canoe without setting off the tripwire. He had plenty of information for Rollins. He couldn’t risk blowing things now.

  CHAPTER 26

  At Zephyr House, its four inhabitants got started on the garden. Reminding Fred that she was the only real farmer among them, Marcie made the decision on what vegetables they should plant.