No Direction Home (Book 1): No Direction Home

by Mike Sheridan

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Food and water will run out soon. There may not be many survivors, but they’re all stocking up with as much as they can and leaving the city. Gangs are starting to form too. I see them on the streets as I drive by. They’re not walking around with happy smiley faces either.”

  Ralph shrugged. “There’ll be gangs everywhere, not just the cities. You’re right about the food and water, though. Clete, we should stock up on stuff tomorrow, before it all goes.”

  Maya took a sip from her drink. “Maybe I could tag along with you guys and get my supplies at the same time. It’s not easy being a woman on her own in times like these.”

  Ralph had no problem with that. He could stare at that face all day long. “That’s fine with me. How about you, Clete?”

  “Fine with me too. It’s dangerous out there for a good-looking woman like yourself.” Clete chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with us. Lucky for you, me and Ralph are kinda dangerous too.”

  Maya smiled. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” She raised her glass at the two. “Let’s toast to the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  Ralph lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that…all night long.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Leaning on Pete’s shoulder, Walter hobbled across the hospital parking lot behind Cody, who led the way to the ER center. Unlike the last occasion he was here, there were no National Guard soldiers blocking their way. It was now dusk, and inside the building was eerily deserted. Cody panned his keyring flashlight around the waiting room, the smell of disinfectant strong in his nostrils.

  “All clear,” he whispered, beckoning Pete and Walter to follow him down the aisle where, at the end, a set of double doors led into the treatment rooms.

  By now, Cody’s anger with Pete had subsided. He wasn't a bad person, he just made a terrible mistake introducing Mason to Walter in order to join his gang. He’d no idea just how violent and unscrupulous Mason would be.

  “So stupid of me,” he’d said in the car earlier, shaking his head forlornly. “Guess I was too scared to leave the city with you guys, and too scared to stay on by myself.”

  “You got no choice but to come with us now. You still owe me, buddy,” Walter had said with a chuckle.

  Amazed by Walter’s equanimity and the lack of ill will he felt toward the man who’d nearly gotten him killed, Cody had no choice but to act likewise. Luckily for both of them, Pete had gone on to quickly make amends. Without his help, Cody doubted he and Walter would have gotten out of the gas station alive.

  When he was about to push open the door to the treatment rooms, something in the corner of the room caught Cody’s eye. He shone his flashlight over to witness a gruesome sight. A pile of bodies lay stacked up on top of each other, their faces racked in an assortment of hideous grimaces. Too sick to take the bodies to the morgue, the ER personnel had disposed of them here, Cody guessed.

  “Jesus,” Pete muttered. “It’s like a scene out of The Walking Dead.”

  Walter hobbled forward. “Come on,” he said grimly. “Let’s get what we need and get out of here.”

  They passed through the double doors and walked down a long corridor with ER rooms to either side. Cody pushed open the door to one on his left. Inside, a nurse in blue scrubs lay on a gurney, her face directed toward the ceiling. Beside her, a doctor wearing white gloves sat slumped in a chair, a stethoscope dangling off his chest. Both had the same ravaged faces that Cody had seen on Joe and Chrissie the other day. Stepping slowly back, he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

  They checked the rest of the treatment rooms. All contained one or more dead bodies. Standing by the door to the last one at the top of the hall, Walter pointed into the room. “All right, kid, see that crash cart in the corner? Bring it out here.”

  Cody went in and wheeled out a blue and white plastic trolley. While he aimed his flashlight at it, Walter rummaged through the drawers, pulling out various items. “Scissors…gauze…tape…sterile pads…bandages…better take some sutures and needles too. Once I’ve drained the wound, I might need to stitch it.” He straightened up. “All right, that’ll do. I can pick up antibiotics at a pharmacy tomorrow. Let’s go.”

  The three headed back down the corridor again, through the waiting room, and into the parking lot.

  “Where we going to patch you up?” Cody asked, taking the keys to the Malibu from Pete and opening the driver’s door. “You can both come back to my place if you want.”

  “Might be the best thing,” Walter said, after thinking about it. “Mason and his gang hang out on the east side. That’s too close to where me and Pete live.”

  Cody started the engine and pulled out of the lot. Avoiding the freeway, he drove through North Knoxville until he caught the Central Avenue Pike. A short time later, they passed by the Starbucks and Hooters, where Cody turned west onto Merchant Drive and went under the I-75 underpass, heading toward West Inskip Drive.

  “By the way, with all that’s happened, I didn’t get a chance to tell you my news,” he said, pulling into his driveway and killing the engine.

  “What’s that?” Walter and Pete asked in unison.

  Cody grinned. “I made some new friends today. While I was out shopping, I bumped into another group of survivors. There’s eight of them.”

  Walter stared at him sharply. “What kind of group?” he asked warily. “I didn’t particularly care for the one we met today.”

  “They’re not a gang,” Cody assured him. “As far as I can tell, they’re good people. They’re leaving the city tomorrow too.” He hesitated. “Maybe we should go meet them. If we all get along, we could drive out together. Like in a convoy. Safer that way.”

  “Who’s in charge of this group?” Walter asked. “They got a leader?”

  “Yeah. A guy named Chris. He was some corporate bigwig before everything went down. He’s nothing like Mason,” Cody added emphatically. “He’s got principles. He’s looking to set up a community in the wilderness somewhere. They’re real serious about this. They’ve already got themselves Winnebagos and travel trailers. Maybe we should think about doing something like that too.” He looked at them both. “What do you guys think?”

  “A trailer’s a great idea!” Pete exclaimed. “A whole lot better than living in a damned tent. How about it, Walter? We go check them out tomorrow?”

  “All right, no harm in doing that,” Walter said slowly. “But Cody, let’s not be too hasty. We’ll just tag along for the moment. A group provides greater safety, but like I told you, you lose a lot of your freedom for that.”

  “Cool!” Cody said excitedly. “First thing tomorrow, let’s go get pickups and trailers. If you two both get along with Chris, we’ll head out of town with his group. Either way, it’s about time we found ourselves some new homes!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Turned out that before the pandemic, Maya worked at the Cheetah Lounge, a high class strip joint on Spring Street, a few blocks north of the Hilton. A wealthy businessman had taken a real shine to her, “totally besotted”, according to Maya. He’d wined and dined her, then subsequently installed her in his room the whole time he was in Atlanta closing some bigshot deal. He’d bought her nice clothes, took her out to fancy restaurants, even bought her flowers one evening – which Maya had appreciated, especially the diamond necklace he’d popped inside the accompanying envelope.

  “No doubt about it, George was a sweet guy. Tons of charisma,” Maya said, wrapping up her story. Ralph detected a tinge of sadness in her voice. It didn’t make him jealous. George was dead, and Ralph could get her a diamond necklace any day of the week. He wasn’t so sure about the flowers, though.

  “I saw a movie like that once,” he said as the two lay naked in bed, in the biggest room they could find on the third floor of the hotel, a bottle of Laphroig on her bedstand, Jack Daniels and a pack of Marlboros on Ralph’s. Also on his side was his backup pistol, his Sig P225.


  Just in case.

  “It was called Pretty Woman. Starred Richard Gere and Julia Roberts.” He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “Kind of a sweet movie, to be honest.”

  Maya stared at him. “Julia Roberts played a hooker in that movie, I stripped for a living. Big difference.” She let out a throaty chuckle. “Anyhow, I never would have taken someone like you to have a soft spot for rom coms. Did you cry at the end? The truth now.”

  Ralph grinned. “I might have choked up a little. Bank robbers got hearts too, you know.” He glanced over at her. “”If it wasn’t for vPox, would you and George have ridden off into the sunset, just like Richard and Julia?”

  “No, George was married,” Maya answered. “Childhood sweetheart, no prenup. She would have taken him to the cleaners. Nope, it was never going anywhere.” She ran her fingers through the thick black hairs on his chest. “Me and you though, now that might have legs.”

  Ralph reached a hand out lazily for another cigarette. The two had gotten pretty comfortable with one another. In this crazy new world, three hours was a long time.

  “Like you say, all the good-looking men are dead. A guy like me’s got to fancy his chances.”

  Maya smiled. “Behind those scars, you’re not so bad looking. How exactly did you get them?”

  Ralph shrugged. “I’m forty-three-years old. Spent fifteen of them in the joint. Shit happens when you do time.”

  “That’s one thing you never need to worry about again. Doing time.”

  “Damn straight. I could be dead by tomorrow, but it won’t be in a cage. This is a one-day-at-a-time world we’re living in now.”

  Maya shook her head. “No it’s not, Ralph. I was serious about what I said earlier. We need to start planning. We got to get out of the city, and soon.”

  “Yeah? And go where exactly?”

  “Somewhere there’s food and water. And I don’t mean out of a bottle, or off a shelf. I’m talking about a river for drinking water, a forest for hunting. Like it or not, that’s what’s coming next.”

  Ralph looked doubtful. “I hate the damned countryside. Lived in cities my entire life. Don’t know nothing about hunting either.”

  Maya looked at him quizzically. “How come? Seeing as you’re a bank robber and all?”

  “They’re two different things, that’s why. Bank robbers live in cities, ‘cos that’s where the banks are. Hillbillies live in the boonies, ‘cos that’s where the squirrels are.”

  Maya laughed. “You’re only forty-three. You’ll learn soon enough how to hunt.”

  Ralph mulled this over. “Now, Clete, he’s from Tennessee. A certified genuine hillbilly. Grew up hunting, fishing, and trapping. In the can he never shut up about it.”

  “Where in Tennessee?”

  “Can’t remember exactly. Somewhere near the Blue Ridge Mountains if I remember right.”

  “Maybe we should gather supplies and head there,” Maya mused. “I’m sure Clete will be more than happy to get back to his old stomping grounds. What do you say?”

  Ralph looked at her suspiciously. “Will I have to chew ‘baccy and wear flannel shirts and dungarees?”

  “That’s up to you. If you go down that route, you’ll need a mullet haircut to go with it. Personally, I prefer your biker look.”

  Ralph patted the bed. “Wherever we go, let’s get a bed just like this.” He grinned. “They’re a lot of fun.”

  “Unfortunately, we’ll need to be practical. Get something that actually fits in a trailer.”

  Ralph stared at her in alarm. “A trailer? You really are talking hillbilly shit, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right, baby, I am.” With one deft move, Maya rolled over on top of Ralph’s waist. Straddling her long legs to either side of him, she leaned over. “In the meantime, let’s make the most of our big comfortable bed, shall we?”

  CHAPTER 12

  Early the following morning, Jonah left the hotel, leaving Colleen behind with strict instructions not to even as much as poke her nose out the door until he returned. Having grown up in the flats, Jonah didn’t scare easily. However, his encounter with the skangers the previous day had shaken him. He shuddered to think what might have happened to Colleen had the passing stranger not helped them out. He vowed never to let himself get caught out like that again. Today, he intended to tool up. Big time.

  Jumping into his Taurus rental, he headed out of the tiny parking lot at the back of the Sun Ray in search of a gun store. With the Internet down, in a city he barely knew, that might prove difficult. Hopefully, he would come across a sign in a window somewhere that said: GUNS. That would make things easier.

  Jonah had never handled a pistol before. People didn’t own them in Ireland. Not legally, anyway. Only bank robbers and drug lords had them. He’d come across a fellow showing one off in the flats once. Jonah had refused to handle it. Only a gobshite would risk leaving his dabs on a shooter.

  He drove north up Kirkman Road in the direction of the Pines Shopping Center. He and Colleen had visited it when they’d first arrived in the city. To either side of him, the streets were deserted. People had either left town or were keeping a low profile. It was too dangerous out there to be lollygagging about the place, that was for sure.

  Passing Eagle Nest Park on his right, he spotted a tall, gangling figure fifty yards ahead. With short, dark hair thinning on top, the man wore a striped-blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals. As he got closer, Jonah recognized him. It was Klaus, from Room 22 at the Sun Ray.

  Jonah buzzed down the front passenger window and drew up alongside him. “Yo, Klaus!” he called, leaning across.

  The startled German stopped in his tracks. Stooping over, he stared in through the window. “Jonah!” he said in his heavily-accented English. “You gave me a terrible fright.”

  “Sorry bud, but you shouldn’t be walking around here on your own, it’s too dangerous. There’s mangy-looking skangers all over the place. Me and Colleen ran into some yesterday.”

  “My car is out of petrol. Without power, I can’t fill it up.” Klaus pointed up the road. “I need to get to the shopping center and get supplies.”

  Jonah patted the seat beside him. “Just so happens I’m passing that way. Hop in. I’ll give you a lift.”

  Klaus gratefully pulled open the door and got into the car. “Thank you,” he said, sitting down and immediately putting on his safety belt.

  Jonah chuckled. “Ah now, there’s no need for that. It’s not like someone’s going to give us a ticket. Though with my driving, maybe yer better off leaving it on.”

  “Yes, just a habit,” Klaus replied stiffly, making no effort to remove the belt.

  As they drove on, a thought occurred to Jonah. “Yer not packing a shooter by any chance, are yeh?”

  Klaus stared at him blankly. “A shooter?”

  “A gun…a pistol. Have you got yourself one yet?”

  Klaus shook his head. “Why, are you looking for one?”

  “Sure am, bud. The streets are getting meaner every day. We need to protect ourselves. Yeh fancy coming with me and finding a gun shop?”

  “I don’t know. I…I’ve never fired a gun before,” Klaus said hesitantly.

  “You, me, and the Pope, bro, but if there was ever a time to learn, this’d be it.”

  They reached the top of Kirkman and were approaching the shopping center on their left. Jonah looked over at Klaus questioningly.

  “I think you’re right,” the German said. “There’s no longer the police to protect us. We can’t rely on anyone but ourselves.”

  “Good man,” Jonah said, delighted to have some company. Even if it might be with quite literally the dullest man on the planet. “Right, keep yer eyes peeled and let’s see if we can find one of these gun store jobbies. Watch out for the skangers while yer at it. No telling what they might be up to.”

  The two men cruised the streets looking out for a gun store. “Jonah? That’s a funny name,” Klaus said after a wh
ile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one before.”

  Jonah chuckled. “I got given that name when I was in the merchant navy. I used to get into all sorts of trouble, always dragging me friends into it too. After we’d been hauled in front of the captain for the umpteenth time and given a right rollicking, they told me, ‘Brendan, we’re keeping away from you, yer a right bleedin’ Jonah.’ The name kinda stuck after that.”

  He stared over at the blank expression on Klaus’s face.

  “Sorry,” the German said apologetically. “But you talk so fast, and your accent…it’s very strong.”

  Jonah grinned. “Yer a fine one to be talking about accents. Tell yeh what? Say Vorsprung durch technik mein liebchen, drei times and we’ll call it quits.” He craned his neck forward. “Wait a mo…what do have we here?”

  The two were downtown now, in an area called South Division. A few hundred yards away, two men walked down the street. Though they had their backs to him, Jonah could make out that each held a rifle in their hands, the muzzles pointing toward the ground.

  Getting closer, he saw both were muscular, with close-cropped hair. They wore camo pants and tight fitting T-shirts, and walked with a certain gait. Jonah took them for military men.

  “How about we have a word with these lads? They don’t look like skangers,” he said slowing down. “Maybe they can help us.”

  Klaus looked at him in consternation. “Jonah, they’ve got guns.”

  “And what are we looking for right now? Don’t worry, I’ll give them a quick toot of the horn first so we don’t scare them.”

  With the edge of his palm, Jonah gave the horn a slap. The switch on the steering wheel must have been stiff, however, because the horn didn’t sound. Pressing on it harder, it suddenly blared out a long, loud blast.

  “Jaypers!” Jonah cried out in alarm.

  In front of them, the two men swiveled around. Spreading out, both raised their rifles to their shoulders and pointed them at the Taurus.