by Lukens, Mark
“Good,” Crystal answered.
“We should collect books when we’re out on these runs. How-to manuals and history books.”
“We’ll raid the next library,” Crystal said.
“I’m just saying we should keep an eye out for that kind of stuff,” Lance said. He glanced at Crystal as they passed a side road. “Farmington Road. Check the map. See how far away we are.”
Crystal checked the map. “Seems like it’s a few more miles.”
“This place is way out here. Pretty far north. It better be worth it.”
Moments later they turned down the next side road that ran through a thick patch of woods, the land sloping down gradually with another line of mountains in the distance. The trees gave way to a small clearing with a gravel driveway meeting the road. In the clearing sat a two-story house.
“No Dark Angels spotted so far,” Tyrone said on Crystal’s walkie-talkie.
She picked up the walkie-talkie and answered him. “Yeah, we didn’t see any sign of them. No rippers, either.”
Lance followed Tyrone’s Dodge Ram pickup down the gravel drive. The Ram pulled off into the grass then veered back over to Lance’s van. They parked together in a V. Petra remembered Lance and Dale parking their vehicles like that in the road when she and the others had broken down after leaving Kate’s parents’ house with a herd of rippers following them.
Dale parked his truck on the other side of Lance’s van. He got out of the driver’s side, wearing his baseball cap and paintball mask, his rifle in his hands. Tyrone was out of the other pickup with his rifle aimed at the house. Tamara was out and backing up to the back of the vehicles to cover them from behind.
Lance rolled down the windows and waited, listening to the silence all around them.
“I’m in position in the woods by the end of the driveway,” Tamara said on the walkie-talkie. “I don’t see anyone on the road.”
“Thanks,” Crystal said. “Keep on the lookout.”
“Copy that.”
Lance still waited, watching the front of the house. It was a newer-looking home with white siding and dark trim. A two-car garage was built on the right side of the home with a pad of concrete in front of it. The house looked well-kept. The front door was painted red and it didn’t look smashed in. The windows were all intact.
“What do you think?” Crystal asked Lance.
“Seems quiet so far. Just want to make sure Jeff’s uncle’s friend isn’t in there with a rifle, watching us.”
Petra knew this situation was pretty tricky. They needed to be both decisive yet cautious. If the man in this house was a doomsday prepper like Jeff had seemed to believe, then he could have a cache of weapons inside and he might be ready to use them against a perceived threat. Or the house could even be booby-trapped.
But these were the risks they had all been willing to take on these runs.
Lance opened his driver’s door and got out, his pistol still holstered to his hip. Crystal got out on the other side. Petra slid the side door of the van open and got out.
The three of them walked to the front porch while Dale, Zak, and Tyrone covered them, all three of them fanning out toward the corners of the front of the home.
The front porch was neat and tidy. Two rocking chairs flanked an old wood table probably meant for lemonade on warm summer afternoons. Faux antique lights were fastened to the wall on either side of the front door with a welcome mat in front of it.
Petra was beginning to get a strange vibe about this house. Jeff said this was a hoarder’s home, maybe even a prepper’s house. Petra had expected something different, something not so suburban, more junk piled up around the house and porch, maybe old cars and trucks and parts. For some reason Petra had assumed the man lived alone, but this place looked like a family’s home.
Crystal moved to one end of the front porch and Petra moved to the other end. Lance approached the front door, but he stayed to the side of it like he expected a gun blast to come through the door at any second. He tried the doorhandle, twisting it gently.
“Locked,” he whispered, glancing back at Crystal and then at Petra. He turned back to the door and knocked on it.
Petra hadn’t expected the knocking to be so loud. The pounding seemed to echo out to the woods. She was sure that the sound would alert every ripper within two square miles. She saw a quick picture in her mind of rippers standing up straight and alert like meerkats, all facing in the same direction the sound had come from.
Crystal nodded to Dale.
Dale darted around the front corner of the home, running down the side yard to the back.
Lance knocked on the front door, not as hard this time.
“I don’t think anyone’s here,” Crystal said.
“You sure this is the right place?” Petra asked. The neat and tidy front porch was still bothering her.
“Same numbers on the mailbox that Jeff wrote down,” Lance said. “Same street name. Same city. This has to be it.”
Crystal’s walkie-talkie crackled with a burst of static and then Dale’s voice came from it. “I got in through the back door. I’m inside the house and coming to the front door. Hold your fire.”
A few seconds later the front door opened wide. Dale had pulled his mask down and it hung around his neck. He beamed at them.
Petra understood Dale’s excitement. She felt the same way, addicted to the adrenaline rush. She was afraid she’d go bat-shit crazy this winter if they were cooped up in the store and didn’t have any runs to go on.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Dale said, stepping aside and making a sweeping gesture with his arm to invite them in.
Petra glanced back at Zak who was still near the other corner at the front of the home. Tyrone had fallen back by the vehicles. They both had their rifles in their hands, both of them ready to fire if they needed to. And Tamara was somewhere in the woods watching the road for anyone coming.
Lance and Crystal entered the home. Petra followed them inside. Crystal had an empty duffel bag, ready to fill it with any supplies they might find. They had more bags in the van. They needed to work quickly because it had taken them a few hours to get here and it would probably take them a few hours to get back. That gave them about an hour and a half to search this house and get what they could.
But as soon as Petra was inside the house she knew something was very wrong with the place.
CHAPTER 53
Kate
Kate knocked on the door to Jo’s office.
Jo opened the door and seemed a little surprised to see Kate. “Hey, Kate.” She frowned just a bit like she was bracing herself for bad news. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh . . . yeah. I just wanted to talk to you about something. If you’re up to it.”
“Yes. Of course.” Jo’s eyes dropped down to the sketch pad Kate had tucked under one arm.
“These are drawings Brooke did,” Kate explained.
Jo smiled, but didn’t ask why Kate was carrying around Brooke’s drawings. “Come on in.” She opened the door wider.
Kate hesitated. “If you’re trying to rest . . .” She knew Jo was taking a break, but she also knew this was probably her only chance to talk with Jo alone. With Lance, Crystal, Dale, and Zak on a run, it was an even better chance to catch Jo alone; it seemed like one of those four, or even all of them, were always around Jo, like they were protecting her or maybe feeding off of her energy.
“No, it’s fine,” Jo said, closing the door to her office after Kate stepped inside.
Jo’s office was larger than the assistant manager’s office, which was now the doctor’s office, and not nearly as cluttered. Jo had kept her desk and chair in the office, and the two chairs in front of her desk. She had set up an air mattress on one side of the room with a blanket, sheets, and pillows. There was also a three-shelf bookcase (probably a piece of furniture they used to sell at this store), and Jo seemed to be using it like a table. There were flashlights, batteries, one lamp, a
few books, some balled-up papers and other trash, a few water bottles, and one air-freshener stick.
Jo gestured to the chairs as she sat down behind her desk. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain.”
Jo nodded at her to go on.
“It’s like a bad feeling I’ve been getting.”
“Bad feeling?”
“I don’t feel good about this run Petra and the others went on this morning.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I’m getting. Like something bad is going to happen.”
“What? Like a psychic feeling? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“I’m not a psychic,” Kate said quickly. “I never believed in that kind of stuff before. But lately . . .”
Jo clasped her hands together in front of her on the desk like a psychiatrist might do. She leaned forward, her large shoulders hunched; it made her seem bigger than she already was. “Look, I understand your fears. I have the same fears every time they go out on a run. It’s dangerous, no doubt about that. That’s why this will probably be the last run for a while.”
“I know it’s dangerous, but it’s more than that.”
Jo didn’t say anything. She was still hunched forward like she knew Kate had more to say.
“You’ve been having bad dreams since the Collapse, haven’t you?” Kate asked her.
“Uh . . . yeah. I guess it’s understandable . . .”
“Dreams about the Dragon.”
Jo just nodded.
“Yeah, I think we’ve all had dreams about him. But have you had dreams about other people?”
Jo seemed to be thinking it over.
“How about a blind woman? She’s young and pretty, long blond hair. Dark glasses. She seems to have a kind of glow around her.”
“No. I don’t remember any dreams like that.”
“What about a man and his eleven-year-old son? Another man with real short hair. And a thin guy with long hair down to his shoulders and a mustache and beard and tattoos.”
“I can’t say for sure. I really can’t remember.”
“Did you see any of us in your dreams before we came here?”
Jo looked shocked by the question.
“Me or Brooke?” Kate pressed. “Or Max or Petra?”
“No. I definitely don’t remember dreaming about any of you. Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I’ve had dreams about the five people I just mentioned. And maybe they’ve had dreams about me.” She laid Brooke’s sketch pad on the desk and opened it up. “It might be easier to explain if you look at Brooke’s drawings.”
Jo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Brooke did these?” She pulled the tablet closer to her, studying the drawings. She flipped the pages gingerly, then looked at Kate. “This is a man and his son. And the other two men you described. The blind woman.”
Kate nodded. “Brooke also drew drawings of Max and Petra before she met them. At first I thought she had drawn her parents or some people she knew. But then when we met Max and Petra, I recognized them. But the drawing tablet with those drawings in them got left behind when we had to run from two Dark Angels and a bunch of rippers at a motel.”
Jo just stared at her.
“I’m telling the truth. I swear. In that tablet she also had a drawing of me before I met her. And look at the last drawing.”
Jo flipped another page and nearly drew back.
“The Dragon,” Kate said.
Jo shook her head like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing.
“You haven’t seen any of those other people Brooke drew in your dreams?” Kate asked her. “Any of us?”
“Not that I remember. What do you think this means?”
Kate shrugged. “Maybe it means that all four of us were supposed to be together. Maybe it means that the four of us are supposed to be with the five of them.”
“But I haven’t seen all of you in my dreams and you haven’t seen me, but all of you are here.”
“I don’t know,” Kate said with a sigh.
“Does that mean we’re not supposed to be together here, or that the four of you are supposed to be somewhere else? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No, I don’t think of it in a negative way like that.”
“It’s strange, though, because we have all seemed to share the one dream—the Dragon,” Jo said.
Kate was beginning to regret that she’d brought this up to Jo.
“But you said you wanted to tell me about the bad feelings you’ve been having.”
“I know there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Kate answered. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Jo surprised Kate by reaching across the desk and taking her hand, holding it gently, like a mother would hold a daughter’s hand to ease her anxiety. The gesture made Kate think of her mother’s note in her jacket pocket, the one valuable thing she had from the old world, the one thing she would always keep with her.
“They know what they’re doing,” Jo said. “They’re strong and smart. They’ll all make it back. You have to believe that.”
Kate nodded and almost felt tears brimming. The only problem was that she didn’t believe they were all going to be fine and that they were all coming back.
CHAPTER 54
Petra
Petra knew something was wrong with the house as soon as she stepped inside. The front door, still wide open, led to a living room with a set of stairs off to the left leading upstairs to a landing and then making a sharp turn. A sitting room was off to the left beyond the stairs. The dining room and kitchen were beyond the living room.
“Still seems quiet in here,” Lance said, his voice just above a whisper. He had his gun in his hand. “I’ll go check upstairs.”
Lance didn’t wait for a reply—he rushed up the steps, fast but quiet.
Crystal glanced around the living room and then was off to the kitchen.
Petra moved slower than Lance and Crystal, taking in the details of the living room. Everything seemed to move in hyper-real slow-motion for her. She heard Lance moving around upstairs, no longer trying to be quiet—obviously he hadn’t found anyone up there.
“I don’t see a door to a basement,” Crystal called out from the kitchen.
Because there’s no basement here, Petra thought as she walked over to the fireplace, concentrating on the mantle where framed photographs were lined up.
“I don’t see anything in here,” Crystal said in a disgusted voice as she came back into the living room with her empty duffel bag.
Lance bounded back down the steps.
Petra stared at the photographs on the mantle of Jeff, his wife, and their two daughters.
“Maybe Petra’s right,” Crystal said. “Maybe this is the wrong house.”
Lance pulled out the folded-up piece of paper from his front pants pocket. “This is the address Jeff gave me.”
“It’s the right house,” Petra said, turning around to look at them. She had one of the framed photos in her hand. “It’s Jeff’s house.”
Lance and Crystal rushed over to her. Crystal took the photo, staring in disbelief and then she passed it to Lance.
“Why would Jeff send us to his house?” Crystal asked.
“Maybe he’s got some weapons stashed here,” Lance said. “Hidden somewhere.”
“This is a set-up,” Petra said, that tingling sense tickling her skin, warning her that she was in danger. “We need to get out of here.”
Lance and Crystal weren’t moving.
“Wait,” Lance said, refusing to give up. “Maybe he wanted us to find something here.”
“Then why not tell us we were going to his house?” Petra asked him. She felt antsy and jumpy, ready to move, ready to run. “Why make up a story about his uncle’s friend, a doomsday prepper?”
They didn’t have an answer for her.
“Because he’s the m
ole,” Petra said more to herself than to them. “It wasn’t Neal, it was Jeff all along. He wanted us here, far away from the store.”
Petra was getting a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach, that feeling you get when you’ve put yourself into actual danger with the very real possibility of death looming. She saw that Lance and Crystal felt the same way she did.
The walkie-talkie on Crystal’s belt crackled with static. She jumped, grabbing it with lightning-quick reflexes. Tamara’s voice screeched from the speaker: “Get out of the house! It’s a trap!”
“Tamara,” Crystal yelled into the walkie-talkie, already running for the front door.
Lance dropped the framed photo of Jeff and his family, the glass shattering and sounding like a gunshot, but it was only a prelude to the real gunshots that sounded from outside and on the walkie-talkie simultaneously.
“Tamara!” Crystal screamed as she dropped down behind the living room furniture.
Petra was right beside her as bullets shattered the windows at the front of the house.
Lance was up and running at the front door.
“Lance, no!” Crystal screamed, ready to follow him out into the gunfire.
Petra grabbed Crystal, stopping her, guiding her to the back of the house, into the kitchen, both of them keeping low. “Out the back,” she told her.
They went out the back door, running for the edge of the backyard where the woods began. The gunfire had stopped at the front of the house and there was no one in the backyard. They got into the cover of the trees.
Petra was breathing hard from the adrenaline and the short run across the backyard, but even over her breaths she heard sounds from the front yard: a truck skidding to a stop on the gravel drive, people running around, a man yelling and telling someone not to move.
“Lance,” Crystal moaned. “They’re going to get him.”
“Don’t do it,” Petra said, trying to grab her before she took off, but Crystal was too quick.