“Do you think we’ll make it to California?” Amy asked, her forehead creased with worry.
The same question had crossed Jessica’s mind more than once. They’d left home only that morning, and in the time it usually took to get halfway across Nevada, they hadn’t even crossed the Nevada state line. Not to mention all the times they’d been shot at. She considered them lucky that only one person in their group had been injured. So far.
Even so, she wanted to reassure Amy, who was about ten years younger than she was. “Eventually, yes.”
“Have you been there before?”
“Only to Southern California. You know, to Disneyland and such.”
Amy nodded. “Same here.” She bit her lip. “Do you think Emily’s aunt and uncle will really be okay with all of us staying at their farm?”
Jessica couldn’t tell if Amy was more nervous about the trip or the destination. She wasn’t sure herself which worried her more. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s just focus on what’s in front of us.” After all, they would have plenty of other things to worry about before they ever got there.
Amy nodded.
Matt stuck his head in the door. “It’s been an hour. Derrick’s heading back to talk to Tyson.”
Jessica’s heart lurched. What if this Tyson told them they couldn’t pass? Or worse, what if they killed Derrick? What would happen then?
Chapter 14
Derrick
With each step he took, Derrick’s dread grew. Tyson held their lives in his hands. Particularly Jeff’s life. Derrick had checked in with Emily, and though she’d put on a brave face, when he’d checked on Jeff himself, he could see he wasn’t doing great. Jeff had woken when Derrick had spoken to him.
“Hey man,” Jeff had said with a wan smile. He was pale and his dressings were tinged with blood.
“How’re you doing?”
“I’m awesome.” He lifted his head. “Where are we? Why’re we stopped?”
“Just outside Wendover. Hit a roadblock.” He forced a confident smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.”
Jeff laid his head back. “Okay then. We’ll be fine.”
Now, as Derrick approached the garbage trucks, his gaze swept upward to the overpass. Four men were on overwatch now. Great, they’d doubled their numbers up there. Had they taken men from behind the roadblock, or brought in reinforcements? If he was in charge, he would have brought in more men.
“Stop there,” a voice said in a commanding tone when Derrick was ten feet from the roadblock.
He paused.
“Shirt up and turn around.”
He knew the drill and he did as they asked, dropping his shirt into place when he’d made a full rotation.
The same man who’d searched him before came out and patted him down once again. “This way.”
Derrick followed him, coming around the rear of the garbage truck to find Tyson and a dozen armed men waiting.
Heart pounding, Derrick squeezed his lips together to force away a frown.
“Hope you had a nice break,” Tyson said with a wide smile.
Derrick didn’t respond.
Tyson’s smile faded. “We talked it over and we decided we’d let you through.”
Relief burst inside him.
“However,” Tyson said, squelching Derrick’s hope that they could get through this unscathed, “there is one condition.”
Of course there was.
“We require a tax of two pounds of food for every person let through.” Tyson grinned. “We counted…” He turned to another man.
“Eleven,” the man said.
Tyson faced Derrick. “Eleven people in your group. So, your total tax is twenty-two pounds of food.”
Reminding himself to relax his jaw, it took all of Derrick’s self-discipline not to slam his fist into Tyson’s grinning face. Then he held back a smirk. They actually had twelve people in their group, but Jeff hadn’t left the car the entire time they’d been waiting. Whoever had been watching them and counting had missed Jeff.
“That’s a lot of food,” Derrick said, his tone even.
“Yes. Enough to feed my men dinner tonight.” Tyson’s gaze swept over the men arrayed around them, clearly trying to emphasize the fact that there were many more of them than there were of Derrick’s group.
Derrick did the math. There were sixteen men in Tyson’s group, all armed. Whereas his group had six healthy adults, including Jessica, Amy, and Emily. In all reality, he didn’t think Jessica or Amy would be up to the challenge of a gunfight. He didn’t know about Emily.
Cold, hard math slapped him in the face. They were outnumbered four to one. Fighting their way through the roadblock wasn’t an option.
“That’s more food than we can spare.” In a way, that was a lie. They had a lot of food. But they also had a long way to go. Who knew how many other towns would require a “tax” to pass through? And who knew how long it would take them to arrive at their destination? They had to survive until they got there. Perhaps even after reaching Emily’s aunt and uncle’s farm they would need the food. For all he knew, her aunt and uncle had no extra. They might even be dead. No, he needed to do whatever he could to reduce this ridiculous tax.
“We can spare five pounds.” Derrick grimaced like this offer caused a lot of pain, although it would only be about five cans of vegetables or chili. He hated giving them even that much—it was extortion after all—but they had to get through.
Tyson laughed long and hard, his head tilting back and his mouth opening wide. If it was just the two of them—or even if there’d only been two or three other men besides Tyson—Derrick would take this opportunity to beat the man until he begged for mercy. Instead, he gritted his teeth and waited for Tyson’s laughter to subside.
Eyes watering with tears, Tyson chuckled a moment longer, then smiled at Derrick. “Tell you what. We’ll settle on fifteen pounds of food and two guns plus ammo.” He winked. “We know you must have at least a few guns.”
They had more than a few. Each person in their group, minus Chris and Amy’s little ones, had a gun either tucked in their waistband or on the seat beside them.
Derrick ground his teeth together. “No deal.” Then, with his heart pounding in his throat—would his bluff work or would he end up with a bullet in his back?—he spun on his heel and stalked away.
He hadn’t gone more than five steps when Tyson’s voice rang out. “Hold up, hold up.”
Biting back a relieved smile, Derrick stopped and turned, his eyes on Tyson as the man strode up to him with a smile he probably thought was disarming, but only looked smarmy.
“No need to rush off,” Tyson said. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
Tyson must have been a politician. Before. Except he still acted like one.
Derrick crossed his arms over his chest. “Eight pounds and no guns. That’s my final offer.” Giving away even that much irked him.
A man tapped Tyson on the shoulder—the same man who’d patted Derrick down both times. Tyson turned to look at him. Some sort of silent message passed between them. Tyson swiveled to face Derrick. “You know, if we wanted to, we could take everything you have.”
Alarmed at the implied threat, Derrick tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
Tyson waved his arms like it was all a big misunderstanding. “Of course not. Just pointing out the facts.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Back to our required tax. Two pounds per person times eleven people equals twenty-two pounds.” He chuckled. “Or maybe you’d like to leave some of your people behind. I’m sure you must have some dead weight in your group.”
An image of each person traveling with him flashed in Derrick’s mind. He’d grown to care about each and every one of them. The idea that he’d leave even one of them behind rankled. “Turns out we’ve changed our minds.”
Tyson’s eyes lit up like he was going to get his way.
&nbs
p; Derrick held back a grin. “We no longer need to pass through your little town.”
Tyson’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.
Shaking his head, Derrick turned to go, but before he took a step, a hand clamped onto his right upper arm. On instinct, Derrick swung his right arm up and around, breaking the man’s grip, while at the same time he swung an uppercut with his left. When Derrick’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, the man fell back with a grunt. It was the man who’d patted him down.
It felt good to land a punch on one of these goons, but before he had a chance to celebrate, he was taken down from behind by at least two men, the side of his face pressed into the rough asphalt.
“That was a mistake,” Tyson said from somewhere above him.
Chapter 15
Matt
It had been fifteen minutes since Derrick had gone to talk to the people on the other side of the roadblock. Way too long. Matt looked at the others in his group, who were all gathered near his truck. All except Jeff, who was still stretched out on the back seat of his truck.
“I don’t like this,” Chris murmured.
Matt glanced at Chris, then let his gaze wander over the rest of their group. With Jeff out of commission and Derrick doing who knew what, he and Chris were the only men left. He was all for women fighting just as hard as men, but there was no way he’d send Jessica—or Amy or Emily for that matter—into the midst of the men blocking their way. They knew very little about these people’s motives or tactics. How many were there? What were they capable of?
Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t either.”
“Attention,” a voice shouted over a megaphone.
Matt glanced at Chris, whose eyebrows tugged together. They all turned toward the source of the voice, toward the roadblock.
“One of you approach. Unarmed.”
Heart rate climbing, Matt shifted his gaze to Chris. “What do you think’s going on? Where’s Derrick?”
Chris shook his head. “No idea, but this can’t be good.”
Matt agreed. Why would they ask for someone else to come over if Derrick was already there negotiating? Unless something had gone awry.
“Now,” the voice demanded.
Matt looked at Chris and Chris looked back.
“I’ll go,” Chris said.
Amy grabbed his arm, her tone shot-through with worry. “No.”
Matt looked at Amy and her two young children. If anything happened to Chris, she would be on her own. Then he looked at Jessica and their children. If anything happened to him, she would be devastated. Still, their children were older, more independent.
It had to be him.
He shook his head at Chris. “No. I’ll go.”
“Matt,” Jessica said, her voice shaky.
Turning to her with a reassuring smile—a false smile—he said, “It’ll be fine.”
Her lips flattened. “You don’t know that.”
No. He didn’t. But what other option was there?
He kissed her, handed his .45 to Chris, then pulled on a face mask. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With a grim smile, Chris nodded.
Forcing confidence he was nowhere near feeling, Matt strode toward the roadblock. Guns, seen and unseen, were pointing at him. And he was unarmed and completely vulnerable. Had they already killed Derrick? Was he next? Was he walking into a trap? Would he leave Jessica a widow before they’d even left the state of Utah?
Heart jackhammering so hard that it made him cough, he nearly stumbled on the asphalt. He glanced behind him at his family. Jessica’s eyes were wide and one hand was pressed to her mouth. Trying to reassure her, Matt nodded, then he faced forward and breathed in and out, slow and steady. He had to get his slamming heart under control before he went into cardiac arrest.
Ten feet from where the garbage trucks met, a voice shouted for him to stop, lift his shirt, and turn slowly. That did nothing to calm him. Regardless, he did as they asked, then a man darted out and patted him down before demanding that Matt follow him.
Forcing one leg in front of the other, he followed the man past the back of the garbage truck and around the side. That’s when he saw Derrick lying helpless on the asphalt, hands bound behind his back and duct tape covering his mouth.
Panic blasted through him. Why had they tied Derrick up? What were they going to do to him?
Mentally pointing out that Derrick was still alive, he let his gaze glide over the men standing in a loose semi-circle. All were armed, and all looked angry. Then he noticed that one man was holding his jaw like he was in pain. Had Derrick punched the guy?
In all the horrible events Matt had been in with Derrick, he’d never seen Derrick hit someone. What had happened?
Matt’s eyes went back to Derrick. His face mask was nowhere to be seen. And these guys weren’t wearing any protection on their faces. Were they all healthy?
Swallowing over his panic, he looked at the assembled men. “Which one of you is Tyson?”
A man stepped forward, his expression less than friendly. “I’m Tyson. Who are you?”
“Matt.” Matt let his eyes slide to Derrick to get some indication of what was going on, but with his mouth covered with duct tape, Derrick only stared back. Matt shifted his gaze to Tyson. “What happened?”
The corners of Tyson’s lips tugged upward. “Negotiations broke down so we decided it might be helpful to have a new negotiator.”
Oh crap! If Tyson didn’t like Matt’s answers, he’d end up on the ground next to Derrick. He shoved down his fear. “I see.”
“Like I told your friend Derrick,” Tyson said as he glanced toward Derrick, whose eyes narrowed in obvious anger, “we require a tax from all those who wish to pass through.”
It felt like a boulder had been deposited in Matt’s stomach. “What kind of tax?”
Tyson glanced at Derrick again before facing Matt. “Three pounds of food for each person passing through.” He grinned. “Once you deliver the tax, we’ll let your friend go.”
Derrick made a noise like he was trying to yell something. Matt desperately wished he knew what it was.
“That’s thirty-three pounds,” Tyson said, his voice calm like he was in complete control, which, since he had a dozen armed men backing him up, he was.
Though Matt knew very well that they had twelve people in their group, Matt wasn’t going to point out Tyson’s mathematical error. “We don’t have that much,” he said instead. That wasn’t true, but he wasn’t about to let on to how much they actually had.
Sighing heavily, like he’d been through all of this before, Tyson shook his head. “Come now, Matt. You and I both know you’re lying.”
What exactly had Derrick told him? There was no way Derrick would have told these people any more than the bare minimum. No. Tyson was bluffing.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, putting as much sorrow into his voice as he could muster, “I wish we had that much, but we simply don’t.”
Tyson’s nostrils flared. “Do we need yet another negotiator?”
Tamping down the panic that pushed at the edges of his mind, Matt took a step back. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“I hope so. This is getting tiresome.”
Matt wasn’t exactly having a good time either. This was reminiscent of the neighborhood cooperative coming to his house and taking twenty percent of all he had. That hadn’t ended well.
As much as it infuriated Matt to be strong-armed by anyone, he was eager to get this resolved. “I can offer you twelve pounds of food.”
Without even thinking it over, Tyson shook his head. “That’s not enough, Matt. Not nearly enough.”
Gritting his teeth, Matt said, “What’s the least amount you’ll accept?”
Tapping his chin with his finger, Tyson thought it over. “I suppose an even two dozen pounds would do it.”
Derrick thrashed on the ground as he shouted something against the duct tape.
>
With the sinking feeling that he was being taken, Matt didn’t know what else to do besides give in to Tyson’s demands. The man held all the cards, and, Matt told himself, at least he wasn’t asking for weapons or the RV.
Sighing audibly, Matt nodded. “Okay. I’ll get the food, then you let Derrick go and let us pass without harm.”
A wide smile curved Tyson’s lips. “You have a deal.”
Chapter 16
Derrick
Furious that Tyson had managed to get more food out of Matt than he’d originally asked for from Derrick, Derrick felt his blood start to boil. Making matters worse, his hands were zip-tied behind his back. He was no action hero. There was nothing he could do but wait for Matt to come back with the coveted food. Besides, they were so close to getting past Wendover, he didn’t want to screw it up by doing something stupid. Instead, he would have to force himself to chill.
He lay on the hard asphalt for a long time—thirty minutes, he guessed—before Matt came back with a box filled with cans of food. During that time, Tyson’s men had never talked about anything useful, much to Derrick’s disappointment. He’d been hoping they would say something that he could use against them, but no luck.
With a wide smile, Tyson took the box from Matt. He didn’t even say thank you.
Watching the exchange in forced silence, Derrick looked at Matt’s pinched lips and tight expression and knew he was just as angry as Derrick was. Then again, people taking his food had led Matt to take a stand back home. This was different though. These people had greater numbers, superior position, and better cover. And no right.
It rankled. Badly. But there was nothing they could do but swallow their pride and get on with their lives.
“I brought the food,” Matt said, “now, let Derrick go.”
Tyson laughed. “Not yet, friend.”
Matt scowled. “Why not?”
Forced Exodus (Pandemic Book Two) Page 6