A second quick peek to get his bearings provided the answer he was looking for. And that came in the form of a loud boom from a pump-action shotgun. Buckshot tore into both sides of the corridor, the bulk of it punching a wide hole in the wall at the top of the stairs.
Skinny racked his weapon and waited.
He couldn’t stay there forever, Nate knew. Eventually he’d run out of food, water and maybe even ammunition. Complicating the matter were the people being held prisoner in the basement. Nate couldn’t leave and return with reinforcements or pick Skinny off outside as he tried to flee. In that case, Skinny might very well slaughter everyone downstairs to cover up his many crimes. Nate was quite sure the court system in the United States was mostly on hold right now. But judging by the looks of them, this couple appeared to have more teeth than brain cells.
“You killed my wife, you sonbitch,” Skinny yelled. The man had an accent. Sounded like he was from Georgia or South Carolina.
“You’re a long way from home,” Nate said, his voice echoing down the empty hallway. “What’s a nice boy like you doing kidnapping folks and holding them in your basement? What would your parents think of that, eh, Skinny?”
“Shut your mouth,” the man said, firing three angry salvos, striking the same patch of drywall.
“I’ll bet Biscuit was the one who led you astray,” Nate went on. “The one who suggested you steal Jay’s house and then grab those innocent people. That’s the name of the man whose place you took, in case you didn’t know. He’s a hard-working American. Built much of this place with his bare hands and now here you are tearing it apart. But I guess losers like you only know how to break the nice things smart people put together.”
“I told you to shut your stinking mouth!” Skinny shouted in a white-hot rage. He stomped down the hallway, firing three more times towards the voice he wanted nothing more than to blast apart. Nate counted in his head. Skinny turned the corner to find Nate crouched on the stairs. For a moment, the two men looked at one another, fear and curiosity all rolled into one strange, inexplicable emotion. Skinny pulled his trigger first. His shotgun clicked empty, just as Nate had known it would. Skinny’s eyes grew with a sudden dreadful understanding.
“Don’t you just hate when that happens?” Nate said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
Squealing with terror, Skinny rotated, intending to flee back to the safety of the darkened room. But not before Nate put a bullet into each of his legs.
Skinny howled in pain, flopping to the ground.
A second later, Nate was hovering over him, patting him down for any other weapons. Finding none, Nate asked him for the keys to the locks in the basement.
Skinny only wailed in reply. Clearly, he’d never been shot before.
Nate introduced the lowlife to the same pistol-whip he’d fed Biscuit. “You want the pain to stop, don’t you? Then start talking.”
“Bedroom dresser,” Skinny bellowed through grit teeth. “Bottom drawer.”
“Good boy. Now, tell me why’ve you got people chained up in the basement.”
The man refused to look at him or answer the question. He only lay on his side, clutching at his wounded legs and rocking back and forth.
When it was clear no amount of beating was going to get Skinny into a speaking mood, Nate told him not to move and went into the bedroom. After opening one of the blinds, he started searching. It didn’t take long. A sock with twelve keys was sitting in the bottom drawer, just as Skinny had said it would be. Nate held up the sock with one hand and unclipped the walkie on his belt with the other. “Hey, Ralph, you still out there?”
A crackle of static filled the radio before Ralph’s reply. “Sure thing, bud. You ready for an extraction?”
That made Nate smile. Here the world was falling apart and a guy like Ralph was having the time of his life. There was something innocent, almost admirable about that.
“I’m ready,” Nate said. “Except I found Jay and nine others, so it may take a few trips to ferry them to safety.”
“Eleven altogether?” Ralph asked.
Nate looked down the hallway at Skinny’s tiny frame. He wasn’t moaning anymore or moving at all. Even from here, Nate could make out the lake of blood pooling around him.
He brought the walkie to his mouth to confirm and stopped. There was another sound, different from Skinny’s blubbering. Although muffled, it was steady and high-pitched. Nate rotated, fixing in on its location. Was someone else in the house, waiting to jump out at him?
“Nate, still waiting on your response,” came Ralph’s voice blaring over the walkie.
Nate twisted the volume knob down a few notches and pulled out his SIG, moving purposefully toward a door on the other side of the room.
He realized in this case it was better not to issue a warning. With a twist and a tug, he flung open the door and got the second major surprise of the day. Partially hidden under a pile of blankets was a pink-faced baby girl. For several seconds, Nate stood staring down at the child in disbelief.
Finally, he brought the walkie to his lips. “Uh, Ralph, better make that twelve.”
Chapter 12
The baby cooed as Dakota rocked the little girl in her arms. Doris had tried to calm the child for nearly half an hour with no luck. It had taken Dakota less than two minutes.
Jay and the nine others they’d rescued from the cellar were in the police station lunchroom, being examined by a local nurse. They probably needed a hospital, but the closest functioning facility was either in Chicago or Rockford. The danger of entering the city quickly nullified that option. Likewise, the encroaching aura of radiation now engulfing all of Rockford had meant for now, staying here was their only option.
“Have you spoken to Jay?” Chief McGinley asked. “And gotten to the bottom of what exactly was going on in that house?”
“Not yet,” Nate said, removing the badge he’d been wearing around his neck and setting it on the table. “Honestly, my days of playing policeman are done. If I’m gonna be honest, I half expected to find Jay’s body in the backyard, sticking out of a snowbank or something.” He looked over at Dakota and the baby. “I certainly didn’t expect to find…”
Doris approached them. “I’m sure both of you are wondering where the kid came from. When we were at the house, I took a moment to examine the woman you called Biscuit and I can confirm she recently gave birth.”
Nate nodded, somewhat surprised.
“I can also tell you she was twenty-two.”
Ralph poked his head into the conversation. “And you got all that from looking at a dead body? Modern science, ladies and gentlemen, is a marvel to behold.”
“That may be so, but her age I got from the driver’s license in her wallet,” Doris said, grinning.
“Wow,” Nate replied. “I could have sworn she was somewhere in her forties or fifties.”
“Meth’ll do that to you,” McGinley offered. “But there’s still no word on the identities of the two deceased, is there?”
Doris shook her head. “And there likely won’t be, not unless someone comes in to report a missing person. Even then, at least half the country is probably missing at this point.”
As Nate had suspected, Skinny had bled out. That meant the four who had died in the house were all brought to the station and placed temporarily in a shed out back. After removing the prisoners’ chains, Nate had gone through any documents he could find in the house. A ledger in the kitchen had painted a rather chilling vision of what Skinny and Biscuit were up to. It had become clear on the first page that the two considered themselves entrepreneurs and the extended blackout as a prime opportunity. Like anyone with some business savvy and a sick mind, they had recognized that in a world without supply trucks, food and in particular meat would soon be in high demand. Nate proceeded to fill in the others on their grisly plan. “Seems they were intent on carving people up and selling them to hungry, unsuspecting survivors, with the claim that it was deer meat. Mos
t probably wouldn’t have known the difference. Given enough time and hunger, some might not have cared. But neither one of those lowlifes was blessed with enough brains to realize that keeping twelve people alive would require more food than they were willing to provide. So what to them started as a promising business opportunity quickly turned into something depraved and almost…”
“Demonic,” Chief McGinley threw in, his face contorted with disgust. “I’m just glad I didn’t need to book either one of them.”
“But why target your friend Jay?” Dakota asked, circling the perimeter of the conversation.
“Seems the two men knew each other,” Nate said. “Least that’s the way Jay described it on the way here. Said Skinny would do odd jobs for him. Help him with renovations here and there in exchange for a little money under the table. He and his wife were living in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Apparently, they thought they were due for an upgrade and saw their chance when the power went out. As depraved as this plot was, I’d be willing to bet we’ve only just scratched the surface of what’s going on out there.”
The idea sent an icy chill through an already cold room.
McGinley tapped the leg of his pants. “Well, the good news is Jay’s already starting to get some color back in his cheeks. By tomorrow, I suspect he might just be able to take a look at that snowmobile of yours.”
“That’s very kind, but we shouldn’t put him under any more strain,” Nate said, meaning it, in spite of his eagerness to move on. Hearing about the buses passing through town a few days ago had only magnified his overwhelming determination to reach Amy and the others. “Jay’s already been through enough.”
“Hogwash,” Doris snapped. “Jay’s a trooper. I’m sure once he finds his strength again it’ll be the least he can do.”
“If there’s one thing Jay knows,” Ralph said, folding his arms over his chest and wearing a wide grin, “it’s snowmobiles.”
“All right,” Nate said, defeated. “You win.”
A short time later, Nate was sitting by a window, watching the snow fall and taking a moment to let it all sink in. Dakota showed up and sat next to him.
“What, no more baby?”
She grinned. “Taking a break. It’s not easy on the arms.” She flexed her left elbow, holding her biceps.
“I wouldn’t know,” Nate said. “Not yet at least.”
“Soon enough,” Dakota said. Although intended to offer a tinge of hope, the comment had left a bittersweet taste in Nate’s mouth. She noticed this and apologized.
“Nah, it’s not you. It’s just hard to see everything you’ve built over the years snatched away in the blink of an eye.”
“A home in Byron,” she said. “Was that your dream?”
He leaned back in his chair and scratched at the ample scruff growing on his chin. “Not really.”
“What then?”
“If I could have anything, it’d be a plot of land where we could raise our own food and not have to rely on anyone else.”
“There’s a word for that,” she said, smiling.
“Heaven?”
“Maybe, but that wasn’t the one I was thinking of.”
“Self-sufficient,” he said, peeking at her from the corner of his eye.
“Technically that’s two words, but I know what you mean. The more we rely on others for basics like food and shelter, the more danger we find ourselves in when things go bad.”
“And you?” he asked. “What’s your idea of heaven?”
“A family,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation. “But this is pretty nice too.”
Nate grinned and looked back outside. He couldn’t agree more.
Chapter 13
It was dark already by the time Manny pulled the snowcat up to a quaint two-story structure and killed the engine. Although they’d already made it a few miles, they were still technically on the outer edges of Chicago proper.
“‘Peaceful Grove Senior Care Facility,’” Holly said, reading the sign over the front door emblazoned in fine gold lettering.
Below the name was the home’s motto. “‘A place for living,’” Johnny said, a healthy dose of skepticism in his voice.
Despite the building’s size, the dormer windows and canopy out front added to the warm and homey feel of the place.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Manny said, undoing his seat belt. Manny’s grandmother was a resident here and since it was on the way, he had wanted to check in and make sure she was all right. He closed the door behind him, leaving Johnny, Holly and Dillon in the snowcat.
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Johnny complained. “Didn’t he say his sister and brother-in-law probably came by already?”
“Not really,” Holly replied. “He said he hoped they had. That’s not the same thing as actually doing it.”
Dillon blew air through his closed mouth, flapping his lips.
“Honey, don’t do that. It isn’t nice.”
The boy ignored her and did it again.
Johnny sat up straight and wiped dots of Dillon’s saliva off his jacket. “Kid, this jacket cost more than you.”
“I wanna get out,” Dillon said, touching the side of his head. “Wanna get out.”
“Manny won’t be long,” Holly told her son, worried another episode was on the way. She had given him the final half tablet of Zoloft a few hours ago, but it seemed to be wearing off.
“Can you take him for a walk or something?” Johnny asked, annoyed.
“He isn’t a dog,” Holly snapped.
“Wanna get out,” Dillon cried, louder this time.
Johnny crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, then maybe he needs another pill.”
She grimaced, unwilling to tell this selfish excuse for a human being she had run out. That was when she had an idea. She’d asked Manny to swing by a pharmacy on the off chance it hadn’t been completely looted.
Yeah, right.
He had agreed, but maybe that stop wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe she could find what she needed here.
“Wanna get out.”
“Okay, honey,” she said, zipping up his jacket. “Let’s give Johnny some peace and quiet.”
“That’s a great idea,” Johnny said, lacing his fingers behind his head and reclining.
They stepped out into the cold, hurrying along a rough path Manny had already carved in the deep snow. Entering the front lobby, they came to a desk where a single candle was burning. Holly leaned over the desk, half expecting to find someone there. But it was empty.
Another sign overhead listed the benefits of life at Peaceful Grove. ‘Caring staff twenty-four seven; fully licensed medical professionals on hand; daily exercise and activity.’
“Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” Holly said. “Maybe we should move in.”
Dillon’s eyes dropped to his boots. “I don’t like it.”
“I was kidding, honey. But we do need to see if we can find some medicine for you.”
With no luck at the front desk, Holly and Dillon went through a push door that led deeper into the facility. Their breath plumed before their eyes, which wasn’t all that unusual given the heat was out.
But the moment they opened that door something new greeted them, an odor that struck them like a slow-motion punch to the gut, a mix of two contrasting smells—on the one side, ammonia from festering diapers; on the other, a not-so-subtle hint of death.
They passed a room with an elderly man and a large black woman tucking a heavy quilt under his shoulders. A lone candle on a side table threw shadows against the walls.
“Excuse me,” Holly said.
The woman jumped, startled. She held onto the bed’s guard rail with one hand and clutched her heart with the other. The woman’s name tag read ‘Louise’. “Oh, Lordy, you frightened me.” Her eyes dropped to Dillon. “Miss, you shouldn’t be back here.”
“I’m after a friend who came in a few minutes ago. He was searching for his grandmother.”
; A sudden flash of concern streaked across her face. Or was that fear? “What’s her name?”
Holly opened her mouth to say something before realizing she didn’t know. “He never said. Um, his name is Manny.”
“Look, we got nearly two dozen patients left and only ten percent of the staff left to care for them.”
“Patients left?” she repeated.
“I woulda run off with the others if I had any faith I’d get home in one piece,” the woman said. “There are two kids and a pretty useless husband back home probably scared out of their minds.”
Holly began to leave. “I think I’ll just look around for my friend. Sorry to have disturbed you, Louise.”
“Lady, you need to go find Mr. Earl. He’s the one in charge of this place now.”
She stopped. “Mr. Earl?”
“Francis Earl Duncan. Goes by Earl. He used to be the accountant before the head administrator, Sally Johnson, took off. Since then, nothing gets done here without Earl’s say-so. If your friend Manny wants to find his grandmother, I suggest you talk to Earl.”
Holly decided to follow that advice. It sounded as though Earl was running a tight ship here at Peaceful Grove. It followed that if anyone around here had the authority to get the Zoloft she needed, it was him.
Holly continued down a long corridor, scanning one room after another. Most of them were dark, and the few she could make out looked empty.
Manny, where the hell did you go?
Far from a chance to resupply, this place was starting to give her the creeps.
She came to a pair of swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Inside, a thin man with a white apron was wrestling a large can of tomatoes.
America Offline (Book 2): America Offline [System Failure] Page 9