This is the End 3: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (8 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  “I’ll take him to the station and lock him in a holding cell.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Peaches stayed upstairs to keep an eye on Olivia, while I helped Officer Robinson carry Moses’ lifeless body downstairs and into the backseat of his squad car.

  “That’s one heavy son of a bitch,” he said.

  We both stood and watched as a car drove by and stopped at the Haji-Mart across the street. It was Aamod’s silver Toyota. He and Naima got out of the car and entered the store.

  “So I got your voicemail, but service went down before I could respond. As you can imagine, I was pretty busy yesterday when the shit hit the fan. Since then, things have … slowed.”

  “I can tell. Do you know how many are infected?”

  “Most, and not just here. Everywhere. I know of a few other officers who weren’t infected. I tried to locate some of them, but I think they skipped town. Where the hell they went I have no idea.”

  I kept my eyes locked on the convenience store. Naima and her father were still inside. I wondered if Naima was going to tell him that she let me take some stuff in return for dropping her into the hands of a sexual predator.

  “Do you know them?” Officer Robinson asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve spent some time together.”

  “Perhaps we should have a talk with them.”

  “Sure, if you want.”

  “I’m looking to gather as many survivors together as possible. Maybe we can figure out what to do about all this, if there is anything we can do.”

  “Strength in numbers, I like that,” I said.

  “Good to hear it.”

  Aamod came out of the store and started digging through the trunk of his car.

  “How about we go over there and have a chat with them.”

  “Whatever you say, Officer.”

  “You can call me Robbie,” he said, smiling. “Or just Robinson.”

  We began walking across the street, side stepping the deeper puddles left by the rain shower. As we passed the military humvee, I noticed the engine had finally shut off.

  “I see you took my advice,” Robinson said.

  “What advice?”

  “The gun.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I had to keep it secret from my grandma. But so far it’s come in handy.”

  “Not sure how much we’ll be needing firearms anymore though, with the way the world is now. And hey, I’m sorry about your grandma.”

  “So am I,” I said. “How is your family?”

  “Don’t know. They all live out of the area. Lost all communication with them. My dog, Jax, is fine though.”

  Naima joined her father outside. She helped him carry boxes from the trunk of the car into the store. Aamod stopped when he saw us coming across the parking lot.

  “Can I help you?” he said.

  I wondered if it was an inappropriate time to ask him for a hot dog.

  “Just thought I’d come over and introduce myself,” Robinson said, extending his hand. “Robbie Robinson.”

  Aamod shook his hand. “You’re a police officer?”

  “What gave it away … the uniform? I guess you already know my friend here.”

  In Robinson’s eyes, we were already friends. How about that. To think it only took the world going to hell to turn me into Mr. Popular. Aamod, however, wasn’t quite sold yet on my newfound awesomeness. I saved the man’s daughter, for God’s sake, and all he had for me was a blank stare.

  I let Officer Robinson occupy Aamod while I slipped away.

  Naima saw me come into the store and ran over to give me a big hug. “Jimmy, I never got a chance to thank you.”

  “It was nothing, really. How are you? Did he hurt you?”

  Naima bowed her head. “Not much.”

  “That’s … good,” I said. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She raised her head and forced a smile. “Yeah.”

  “I thought you’d be mad.”

  “Mad at you?”

  “Yeah, because we left the hospital without you.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “Did your dad tell you we found a baby at the hospital?”

  “You found a baby? No, he didn’t mention it. What are you gonna do with a baby?”

  “I don’t really know yet. For now, just take care of her as best as we can. Got any diapers here?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “What did you guys come back for?”

  “My dad just wanted to get a few supplies to take back to the house.”

  “Like the shotgun,” I said. I had noticed it was missing from the counter.

  Naima nodded. “Says he’s not letting me out of his sight again.”

  “Lucky you.”

  I helped Naima fill some of the empty boxes and then carried them out to the car. Officer Robinson was leaning against the hood, writing something down on a sheet of paper for Aamod. I had hoped he was giving him a ticket for being so uptight, but it was just the address to his house.

  “If you change your mind,” Robinson said. “That’s where you’ll find me.”

  Aamod took the small sheet of paper and shoved it into his pocket. “Fine. Thank you.”

  “Jimmy, you about ready to go?”

  “Where are you going?” Naima asked.

  “Got to go to the station for something,” Robinson said.

  I was glad he chose not to elaborate further.

  “Oh, okay. Well I hope we can stay in touch somehow,” said Naima.

  “No,” Aamod said firmly, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “I don’t trust him.”

  “What? But daddy—”

  “I said no. We can take care of ourselves.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Robinson. “What did I miss?”

  “He lied to me. That’s all,” Aamod continued. “Now I don’t trust him.”

  “What did I lie to you about?” I asked.

  “Oh, I think you know. Yes, you know what you lied about.”

  It hadn’t hit me yet, what he was talking about, so I said, “No, I really don’t.”

  “You told me you took care of it. When I know you didn’t.”

  Okay, now it hit me. He must have gone back over to Jerry’s house and inspected my work.

  I frowned. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I took care of it. But you … you just stay out of my way from now on. Okay?”

  “Perhaps we should be going,” Robinson said. “I wasn’t aware you guys had some prior history.”

  “Again. Thank you for your offer, sir,” Aamod replied. “But we’ll be okay.”

  “Daddy, I think you’re being unfair to Jimmy.”

  “Get in the car, Naima. I’m through discussing it.”

  I kept my head down as Officer Robinson and I left the parking lot.

  “What was that about?”

  “Long story,” I said.

  “Okay. I won’t pry.”

  “What did you offer him?”

  “The same offer I’m gonna give you … to come stay at my place.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, if you want. Like I said before, I’d like to get as many survivors together as possible.”

  “I’d have to talk to Peaches about it, but I’m all for it. As long as you don’t mind having a baby around.”

  “Not at all. I have a decent size plot of land right outside of town. Jax and I would sure love the company. The world has suddenly become a mighty lonely place. Plus I’ve been told I make some mean barbeque ribs.”

  “Say no more. I’m sold.”

  Before heading into the bookstore, I went around the side of the building and took down the ladder Moses had used to climb through the upstairs window. Then I carried it around back and left it near the dumpster, even though it was unlikely the garbage collectors would ever come pick it up. I met back up with Officer Robinson out front. He was leaning up against his squad car, staring off into space.<
br />
  “So I suppose I’ll just follow you,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring as much stuff as I can, since I don’t know when and if I’ll ever be coming back.”

  “Sure, no problem. Take your time.”

  “I’d also like to eat something real fast. I haven’t had anything all day. Would you like something? We don’t have much, just some snacks, but if you’re offering to make dinner, I figured I could at least offer you something in return.”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that,” said Robinson. “I’ll also help you pack if you’d like.”

  Upstairs, Peaches was lying down on my bed with baby Olivia.

  “We’re gonna grab a bite to eat if you want something,” I said.

  “What are you making?”

  “Stale food in individually wrapped packages.”

  Peaches sighed. “I guess.”

  We headed into the kitchen to rummage through the stuff Naima had let me hand-pick from the convenience store earlier in the morning. Officer Robinson settled on a healthy mix of chocolate and fruit-flavored candy bars. Peaches and I decided to split a big bag of potato chips and a case of French onion dip.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you got cigarettes,” Peaches said, noticing the pack that had fallen to the bottom of one of the wine boxes.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.”

  “You got them for me?”

  “I did. As long as you don’t smoke them around the baby.”

  “No, I wouldn’t dare.”

  “How is she anyway?”

  “She’s still sleeping, but she’ll need to be fed again soon.”

  “I never knew babies slept that much,” I said.

  “At her age, they take naps all day long,” said Officer Robinson. “At least my boy did. They also eat and shit all day long, too.” He started laughing.

  “I didn’t know you had a son.”

  “Yeah, he’s eight years old. Just finishing second grade. Or was.”

  “Where is he? You said you didn’t have any family around here.”

  “He’s with his mother in New Orleans. They moved there after the divorce. She wanted to be close to her family.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry,” Peaches said. “Have you had any contact with them?”

  Robinson took a deep breath. “That’s the hardest part, you know. Not knowing what happened. I talked to them yesterday morning before the phone lines went down, and let me tell you, things were just terrible down there in New Orleans, from everything I heard. Much worse than here. But they were hanging in there, and I hope somehow they still are.”

  “I don’t know what’s become of my family either,” said Peaches. “Most are way up in Kentucky.”

  “This is one time when I feel blessed to have such a small family,” I said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in either of your shoes.”

  After we got our fill on junk food, we got right down to business. Peaches grabbed the pack of cigarettes and went outside for a smoke. She also said she’d get the formula from the car to feed Olivia, who had woken from her nap and wasn’t in the best of moods. Officer Robinson helped me cram as much stuff as I could into my grandma’s old luggage. Clothing. Photos. Bathroom supplies. Ammunition for Sally. Just the essentials. After we were done, he helped me carry all of it down and load it into the trunk of grandma’s Buick. Then he helped me carry grandma down. We loaded her into the backseat instead of the trunk. While Peaches changed and then fed baby Olivia on the steps outside, I loaded up a backpack full of books from the bookstore. Mostly classic science fiction and fantasy stuff from authors like Ray Bradbury, Philip K. Dick, and Isaac Asimov. I also threw in a few zombie books for good measure.

  Then I set the alarm and locked up the doors. As we drove off, following behind Officer Robinson’s squad car, I quietly said goodbye to the bookstore, to the only place I’d ever called home, knowing it may be the last time I ever saw it. My life as I once knew it was officially over.

  How things change.

  Chapter 21

  “Do you think we could stop by my place so I could get some stuff?” Peaches asked from the passenger seat. She had Olivia nestled against her chest.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Like clothes.”

  “You have clothes.”

  “More than the ones I have on. I don’t think I’d fit in yours.”

  “Maybe Officer Robinson has something you could wear.” She gave me a look that said—I’d punch you in the face if I didn’t have this baby in my arms. “I’m just kidding. We’ll go get your stuff after we finish up at the police station.”

  “Thanks”

  The police station was about ten miles north of the bookstore, but it took almost forty-five minutes to get there. Officer Robinson led the way, as I had no clue where it was located. As expected, all of the major highways were congested, so once again we had to find a creative way through the traffic. For the most part, Robinson did a fine job navigating. Being a cop, he obviously knew the network of roads well. When we reached the station, I parked the Buick behind him right outside the main entrance.

  “Hold on. I’ll be right back,” Robinson said, and entered the building.

  While he was gone, I scanned the surroundings. There was a large retention pond on the other end of the parking lot.

  “You ever been here before?” Peaches asked.

  “No, first time. You?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think maybe … yes.”

  She nodded. “Even spent some time up at the county jail.”

  “Really?”

  “Wasn’t too bad. Just a few nights. They usually went easy on gals like me.”

  “Bet it wasn’t the same for the guys.”

  She laughed. “Not so much.”

  Robinson returned a few minutes later pushing a wheelchair. It looked a lot like the wheelchair at Jerry’s house, only this one had safety cuffs on the arm and leg rests.

  “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to carry him again,” I said, referring to Moses’ massive two-hundred plus pound body slumped over in the backseat of Robinson’s squad car.

  “I thought you’d approve.”

  I helped lift and secure Moses into the wheelchair, told my grandma we’d be back in a jiffy, and then followed Robinson into the building.

  The police station wasn’t nearly as crowded as the hospital but was just as quiet. Numerous officers and other staff lay around blocking up the corridors. The whole place stunk of coffee and government paperwork.

  Robinson led us down a long corridor, past interrogation rooms and dispatch offices, and then through a set of double doors into a rectangular room with two holding cells. I expected the cells to have iron bars like on The Andy Griffith Show, but instead they were just ordinary rooms with small viewing windows on the doors. Robinson grabbed a clipboard off the wall and flipped through some pages, then unlocked the first cell and pushed Moses inside.

  Peaches decided to stay back with Olivia, while I slowly followed Robinson into the cell.

  Moses would have the whole place to himself, all one hundred and fifty or so square feet. He even had such luxuries as a toilet and water fountain, should he eventually wake up, which I secretly hoped he would only so that he could die alone in this awful room. He deserved no less for putting a gun to my grandma’s head.

  “That’s that,” Robinson said, shutting and locking the cell door.

  As we were about to leave, someone began banging on the cell door and yelling, “Help! Get me out of here!”

  Great, he did wake up, I thought. And not a moment too soon.

  “Is that … Moses?” I asked.

  Robinson narrowed his eyes. “No, it’s coming from the other holding cell.”

  Damn! How I would have loved to taunt Moses through that little window.

  I stayed back with Peaches while Robinson walked up and peered into the second cell.

  “You’ve got to be kiddin
g me,” he said. “I don’t believe it.”

  I took a cautious step forward. “What?”

  Robinson drew his pistol and yelled, “Sit down on the bench,” to the occupant of the cell. Then he opened the door and pointed the gun at the muscular black man with a bushy beard who sat across from the door with his hands up.

  I instantly recognized him. Kevin, the kid who gave me my first joint, had called him Bowser.

  Robinson kept his gun sighted on Bowser. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing here,” Bowser said. “Couple of your boys brought me in yesterday.”

  “I’m sure they had good reason.”

  “Actually, they didn’t.”

  “Sure. Sure. How ‘bout I check?”

  “Fine,” said Bowser.

  “You stay put,” Robinson said, strolling back over to the clipboard on the wall. Again, he scanned through the pages. “Says you resisted arrest.”

  “And…”

  Robinson hung the clipboard back on the wall and walked back over to the second holding cell. He kept his gun lowered. “Why’d you resist arrest?”

  “They tried to keep me off the streets. Said I needed to stay indoors. I wasn’t having none of that.”

  “Sounds like you.”

  “I don’t work the streets, I don’t get paid.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I know your game.”

  “Plus, I don’t think your boys liked the way I look.”

  “I don’t blame them. I don’t like the way you look either.”

  “Nigga, you know what I mean.”

  “I ain’t your nigga,” Robinson replied. “Ain’t been your nigga for a long time. So drop the routine. I don’t need to hear it right now. We grew up on the same streets, went to the same school, were both born with the same color skin, and you don’t see me complaining. You know why?”

  Bowser shrugged.

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You never cared about nothing but yourself. Well I’m gonna tell you anyway, cause I think you deserve to hear it for once in your life. You don’t see me complaining because I worked hard for everything I got. I worked hard to earn this badge. Worked hard to buy a house. Worked hard so maybe my boy can have it a little easier than I did. Worked hard not to be a statistic. And I’ll be damned if I let the color of my skin be the excuse that holds me back from achieving my dreams.”