The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1)

by Caryl McAdoo

  His eyes did adjust a little, maybe because of the bonfire, but he could at least see some shadows against the blackness. Glancing behind, he made out his sister and brother. No matter how much he wanted to run—which was exactly what he would’ve done if alone—he forced himself to walk slowly across the street.

  McKenzie held his right hand—without asking, she’d just taken it—and Cooper walked beside him on his left, so close that he brushed him every few steps. Reaching the far building, he pressed against it and allowed himself his first full, deep breath since stepping out of the apartment.

  Even in the dark, he found the chain-link fence that separated his complex from the school’s property. Wasn’t like he hadn’t walked the path a thousand times in the three years he’d gone to Lamar Middle School. That year, he’d moved up and loved high school, even though being a freshman meant taking a lot of smack.

  Hmm, would he ever walk the halls at Nimitz again?

  Without words, he led them across the football fields. He didn’t see anyone or much of anything though his eyes could distinguish a little better as he went. More than just shapes at least, still no details though. Stopping at the big cedar guarding the field’s far end, he searched Helmet Street in both directions best he could.

  Like all the lifeless cars and trucks that littered the neighborhood sitting exactly where they died four days ago, nothing moved. Across the road, the houses started.

  He pulled his siblings in close. “I’m thinking the drainage ditch is our best bet.”

  “Aw, that nasty ditch? Really?”

  Cooper put his mouth to Jackson’s ear. “I’m thirsty.”

  He pulled his two-liter bottle of water from his backpack then held it while both his siblings each took a quick swig. After wetting his own whistle, he screwed the lid back on tight. “Come on, the gate’s down here.”

  Hating being in the open at all, he led them to the drainage ditch then helped his sister into the dry concrete waterway. She assisted him, easing Cooper down next. The familiarity of the old concrete channel comforted him. The city had installed it a few years back where the creek used to be, and he and his friends had skateboarded all through the hoods in it.

  Once a few months back, he even rode an inner tube down its length after a big rain. Good thing Mom never found that out. She’d have a heart attack.

  He took off with his siblings on his heels through the dark drainage ditch, thankful for the cover it allowed. At a gentle turn in it, twigs and leaves breaking ahead stopped him cold.

  One of them bumped into him.

  “Sorry.”

  He shushed her, plugged one ear with his finger, and cupped the other hand behind his open ear. Barely breathing, he turned one way then another. He could swear he’d heard what sounded like footfalls, but maybe it was only a cat. He hated being on edge every minute. Moving forward again, he walked in a crouch. “Stay low.”

  Bent over at the waist, he slinked along, hoping his profile wasn’t visible.

  “Hey, Fish.”

  Before Jackson could place the voice, a shadow jumped into the culvert right in front of him. It hit him. “What’s up, Bucky?”

  “That’d be Mister Hornbuckle to you, Fish.” The third-year freshman stepped closer. “You don’t get by unless you pay the toll.”

  Of all the people in the whole wide world, it had to be Alex Hornbuckle standing in his way shooting off his mouth.

  McKenzie put her hand on Jackson’s back and spoke over his shoulder. “What toll?”

  “It’ll cost a beer for each one of you; I’d go two for one on your two little snot noses. Or a pint of whiskey would do.” He snickered. “And if you goody-two-shoes ain’t got no alcohol, I’ll take all the food you’re carrying.”

  Jackson slipped his hand behind him and gently pushed his sister back. “I’m not giving you nothing, Bucky. You best get out of our way.”

  Just then, either by providence or coincidence, a little ray of moonlight shone down on Hornbuckle, gleaming off a blade in his hand. He held it out in front of his chest slicing the air, threatening Jackson. “Well, Fish, you either pay up or it’ll cost you everything you got.”

  A righteous rage rose in his gut. The bigger boy stepped closer. Jackson dropped his right shoulder freeing his backpack. He reached across his body, bent at the knees, grabbed the pack and swung. Hard. Aiming high. It slammed square into Hornbuckle’s head. The sound of a jar breaking and the bullseye hit thrilled his heart.

  The boy staggered back and leaned over. Blood stained his white face when he looked up. He stopped himself from falling forward with his hands on his knees.

  Like kicking a football, Jackson drove his boot toe into the bully’s chest. The blow straightened him up then reeled him backwards. Jackson stepped forward and impelled his fist into Bucky’s nose. The troublemaker stumbled. His hind end and head hit the concrete with successive thuds.

  Jackson quickly relieved him of his knife. The stunned boy probably never even knew what happened. With his foot on Hornbuckle’s neck, he held the point of the blade in the loser’s left nostril. In the moonlight, the terror in the bully’s eyes so satisfied his anger.

  McKenzie grabbed his free arm. “Don’t kill him, Jackson!”

  He looked back at his sister. “You take Cooper on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  She only hesitated a few seconds. “Come on, Bubba.” She took her little brother’s hand and did exactly as he instructed.

  Jackson leaned closer to his enemy’s face. He poked the tip of the blade into Hornbuckle’s nostril. “Don’t even think about following us. I won’t let you off so easy if I see your ugly mug again. You hear?” He withdrew the weapon, folded it and stuck it into his back pocket. “Thanks for the knife, Bucky.” Removing his foot off the older boy’s neck, he backed away, watching him.

  His enemy lay there making no attempt to get up. Jackson figured all the fight was gone out of him. He sidestepped and retrieved his backpack. Just like his father had told him, if you have to fight, use anything you have handy as a weapon. Don’t bluff. Don’t even talk. Wait for an opening then strike hard. And don’t fight fair.

  Trotting after his siblings, he caught up quickly and moved them along at a good pace again. Hardly any time passed before he led them under Shady Grove Road. He hated leaving the ditch, but it turned east, and he intended to go south through one last neighborhood before he could get them to the Trinity River bottoms.

  He wanted to check his map again, but had to trust his memory. He climbed out, keeping low, and checked both ways. Nothing moved. McKenzie hoisted Cooper up to him, then Jackson gave her a hand. He used the dead cars and trucks as cover, moving east a short distance. At the first street into the neighborhood, he turned south.

  Sure enough, it went just as he remembered. On the west side, the houses faced the side streets that ran off the feeder. A few bonfires raged here and there, but thankfully burned far enough away from the road he followed that they never threatened to expose his position.

  At the end of the feeder street, more useless vehicles jammed the bigger crossroad. To the east, the biggest fire he’d seen raged with maybe two dozen folks milling around it. That left Jackson no choice but to go west. At the bottom of an S-curve in the pavement, he spotted a dirt road illuminated only a moment by a moonbeam.

  It led to a metal gate.

  Ahead, another bonfire shown in the distance toward Beltline, a major thoroughfare, so he turned south again on the dirt road. He needed to go that direction anyway. If he had it figured right, the river shouldn’t be too much farther.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Boggs heard them first. Then the wind shifted, and their stink filled his nose. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, but the old man patted his head.

  “It’s okay, boy. I called them here.”

  Boggs wanted to go meet the trio and get a look, see if his eyes agreed with his smeller, but being a good dog, he obeyed his master. He laid his head
on his front paws and closed his eyes, but he’d keep track of the intruders’ progress. They followed the dirt road, turned after the creek, came closer along the big green space, then through the people area.

  Hearing their chatter, he figured they were young humans. Soon after they slipped into the second barn, Boggs smelled food. The children talked softly with one another. He stayed vigilant until their breathing slowed. Sensing no danger, he decided to lay his head in the old man’s lap and catch a nap.

  All the noisy birds bragging about a new day awakened him from his rest. He glanced at his man who seemed to still be sleeping and decided he’d take care of business. Maybe ease on over to the other barn and check out the newcomers, too, while he was up and about. He stood and padded softly toward the big double doors that had been left open.

  “Don’t be gone long.”

  He looked behind him. The corners of his master’s lips drew up and spread wide. His eyes twinkled, too. Boggs loved that look and the soothing sound of his man’s voice, but didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want him to get eyes on the intruders. Still, as commanded, he hurried back after lifting his leg a good long time next to a tree’s trunk.

  In his rightful place again, he settled down and laid his muzzle on the ground next to the master’s leg. The old guy patted Boggs’ shoulders and rubbed his head a couple of times gently, pulling the near ear all the way out. It really felt good.

  The new day got brighter by the breath, and he couldn’t imagine why his master wanted to stay any longer. Hadn’t he had plenty of rest? Instead of leaning against that stall wall, he should be ready to get up and eat, get going. But he eased his hand over Boggs’ side and tucked him into his leg nice and snug.

  While he waited for the young newcomers to wake, a coyote slipped down the creek and crossed into the woods. He hated the mangy wild canines, but wasn’t allowed to catch them or even chase them off. The ways of men weren’t always easy for him to understand, yet he’d learned not to lean to his own understanding and trust the master.

  After good light shone, the last two horses still at the stables came close to the other barn, but didn’t go inside or stay long. With the big lumbering beasts, old habits obviously died hard. Long as it had been since they’d been fed, the equine still showed every morning seeking a hand-out.

  A body would think enough time had gone by to keep them from coming every sunup on the chance a human might be passing out grain.

  Across the river, the report of a rapid string of shots echoed, but they sounded plenty far away. He couldn’t smell the gun’s smoke; so really no concern. The old man must have heard them, too. He rubbed Boggs’ shoulder a couple of times as if to reassure him everything was fine.

  Didn’t he know that whenever he was in his master’s presence, nothing could ever be wrong?

  The biggest of the intruders stepped out of the other barn, followed closely by the two smaller ones. Boggs stood.

  “Easy now, my friend. Stay put.”

  He glanced at his man who rewarded him with that look he loved so much then settled back down as told. Real quick, the trio came close. The old man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket then clutched it tight in his hand and held it over his heart. With his eyes shut, he rested his chin on his chest.

  Spit dripped from the corner of his mouth, down through his chin stubble, then onto his shirt.

  The three intruders reached the double doors.

  The biggest one, still a boy but getting close to full grown, stepped inside and stared right at him. The next, a female about shoulder high to the oldest gave Boggs a look similar to his master’s, turning her lips up and showing her teeth in a friendly sort of way. The smallest, a mid-size fellow almost as tall as the female, stepped out from behind the other two.

  Boggs bared his fangs, but the old man applied the slightest pressure to his side, so he closed his mouth and laid his head down on his paws, keeping a wary eye on the interlopers.

  “Hey, mister, you okay?” The big one stepped closer.

  “Don’t go near them, Jackson.” The girl grabbed hold of the boy’s shirt sleeve. “I don’t think that dog wants you to. Besides, something’s wrong with the old guy.”

  But she must not be in charge of him because he didn’t let her keep him back. He pulled his arm away and took another step toward Boggs and his master. “He looks dead; may have some food though. Or clean water we could use.”

  The hang-back smallest one scooted apart from the other two then stopped short of Boggs with his open hand extended. “Hey, there, boy. You a good dog?”

  The old man pressed his hand into Boggs’ fur ever so slightly.

  Easing closer, the boy talked in soothing tones. Boggs looked away and kept his place next to his master. When he faced the little fellow again, he stretched his neck a bit and sniffed the hand stretched toward him.

  Then the female stepped up behind the boy. “Don’t, Coop. That is one big dog. Looks like he could tear your hand off if he was a mind.”

  The small one paid no attention to her. She must not be his master either, or else he was not a good boy. The smallest eased his hand ever closer, palm down, until he placed it softly on Boggs’ head and petted him. “There now.” He turned back toward her. “He could, but he won’t.” He faced Boggs again with one of those pleasant showing-his-teeth expressions. “He’s a good dog. See, Sisser?”

  The bigger one, Jackson she called him, stepped beside the old man and put two fingers against his motionless master’s neck. “I don’t feel a pulse; maybe he had a heart attack or something.”

  “Poor old man. I hope he was a Christian.” She pointed toward his chest. “What’s he got in his hand there?”

  Jackson eased the crumpled paper from the lifeless grip and opened it.

  “Nothing I guess.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “Nothing. It’s weird. Has a bunch of letters and numbers, but they don’t make any sense.” He turned back to the man. “The old guy sure does look familiar for some reason.”

  “Here, let me see it.” The girl held out her hand and took the paper. “What do you think they mean? All these numbers. You think it’s some kind of code or something?”

  Coop nodded toward Bogg’s man. “Does he have any food?”

  For the next bit, the big one carefully rifled the old man’s pockets. “A compass! And here’s a cool hatchet on his belt. Help me get it off, Coop.”

  The little boy joined the effort and pulled out a knife from the master’s pants pocket. “He’s got lots of good stuff. Can I keep it?”

  “That’s just gross. Y’all shouldn’t be touching him! And it’s stealing, too.”

  “McKenzie Michelle! You’re such a girl. He won’t be needing any of this stuff.” Jackson showed his teeth and closed one eye real quick at the one called Coop. “If you don’t want to watch, take a look around the barn and see what you can find.”

  Took all Boggs could do to keep from objecting. She found his master’s water bottle and his neatly stacked pile of canned meals, including the ones with the great smelling fish inside. He hoped they’d give him one, but he wouldn’t beg. He hadn’t begged since he was a pup.

  “Here’s a good green blanket. A bit itchy maybe, but it looks plenty warm.” She stepped outside the far end of the barn. “Hey, Jackson, there’s a cool fold-up skillet out here where he’s been cooking.”

  The big one went and loaded all the cans into his pack while the little guy continued pilfering through the master’s pockets. Jackson took a sip of water, studying the man’s face. He held the bottle toward the girl when she walked back inside. “I know who he looks like! That new neighbor back at the apartments, remember?”

  “Yeah, he does! That guy Mom sent me and Sisser to give him those cookies she’d baked.”

  McKenzie traded him the skillet for the water bottle. “He does. Yeah. Wow. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was his brother.” She took a sip and handed the bottle to the littl
e one.

  “How do you?”

  “How do I what, Coop?”

  He sipped a drink then held his hand out and poured a tiny bit into it. “Know better. You said if you didn’t know better. They really could be brothers.” He offered the water to Boggs. He lapped it off the boy’s salty palm even though he wasn’t really thirsty. But he liked this fellow.

  “I guess so.”

  The big one put his pack on then stood. “We should get on out of here.”

  ”What about breakfast?” She passed the water back to the big one. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Coop piped up. “I’m hungry.”

  “Let’s just go, we can eat later.”

  She looked at the man, and her shoulders shivered like trying to shake water off. “Fine with me. I say it’s a great idea to eat far away from the dead guy.”

  Coop kneeled beside Boggs. “What about the dog? We can’t just leave him all alone.”

  “Sorry, Bro.” Jackson shook his head. “We don’t need another mouth to feed.”

  The girl frowned at the little one. “Especially such a big one! No telling how much it would take to fill him up.”

  “Anyway, he’ll never leave his owner. You’d have to drag him away.” The leader turned and walked away.

  McKenzie Michelle pulled on Coop’s arm. “Come on, now. We’ve got to go.”

  He rubbed Boggs’ head again then walked backwards. At the door, he patted his leg. “Come, boy.” He whistled a funny weak sound. “Come on with us.”

  “Stop it, Cooper. Leave him be.”

  As they left the barn, the boy waved at him then turned and joined the others.

  Go with them, Boggs. Keep them safe.

  He looked at his man. He hadn’t heard the words with his ears, but in his heart, and it made no sense. Why would he ever leave his master? The old man patted his shoulder real easy, gently pushing him toward the door, then took his hand away and laid it in his lap.