by Hunt, Jack
She returned with two fingers of Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. “Here you go.”
Alex downed it and set the glass on a small round table with a mosaic glass design. “Thomas said you were experiencing some trouble. That right?”
“We’ve had a few raiders. Yeah.”
“Par for the course I guess. Once folks out there know what you have here, others will come. You should be careful who you invite. You never know.”
“Well I guess that’s the line in the sand that everyone is faced with now. And of course every jackass will have their opinion about what is tactically sound and all that bullshit.”
He scoffed. “It’s wise to be cautious, don’t you think?”
Jodi took a seat across from him. She nursed a bottle of beer. “Sure. But society wasn’t designed to live alone. We were formed for communities. Not hiding in the woods and protecting our property. That mindset leads to a lonely life.”
“I guess it does. What did you do before this?”
“Steven, my husband, was in the army for fourteen years and I used to help at a resort much like this in Colorado. You could say that’s where I caught the bug. Nature. Hospitality. I like being around people. Figured one day I would start my own. I always imagined it would be smaller but after Steven and I got married, we happened to come out here one summer and kind of fell in love with the place. A few years of visiting and the elderly owners told us they were looking to retire and sell off the place.” She took a sip from her bottle. “We decided to put in an offer. It was expensive, as nothing like this is cheap but it was worth every penny. We recouped our initial investment within six years. Less than a year after that Steven died.” Her chin dropped.
The pain was still fresh.
Grief was different for everyone. It never really went away, people just learned to make peace with it and walk through it.
“Was he the one that taught you how to fire that rifle?”
“No, actually he wasn’t. You live in Colorado long enough you soon learn to fire a gun. I spent the better part of my growing up years in the wilderness. My father was an outdoorsman. He would take us out on the weekends and show us how to build campsites, start fires, collect water, you know… basic survival. He taught us how to use a weapon from a young age.”
“And your parents. Where are they now?”
“On the other side,” she said with a smile. “I’m kind of glad they didn’t live long enough to see this.”
He nodded. “Though I imagine they’d be proud of how you’ve managed to survive.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been easy.”
“Each day, or killing people to stay alive?”
“Both.”
They swapped stories of those they’d killed but neither one felt proud of it. They would have been lunatics to think that taking another life, even if it was for the protection of others or themselves, was admirable. Still, sharing helped.
“How’s the foot?”
He raised the cold pack. “Better. I should be heading back soon. They’ll wonder where I’ve got to.”
“Alex. You can use our radio if you like. While you’re at it, you might as well tell them to come out.”
“You want them here?”
She let out a lungful of air. “If that’s all right with you.”
He shrugged. “Sure.” He staggered to his feet and she offered to give him a hand but he said he’d be okay. He hobbled out and she led him down to a room where the ham radio was. As they walked she continued to pepper him with questions. “Your ex-wife. What’s her name?”
“Sophie.”
“Right. And so what’s the deal between you two?”
“The deal?”
“Arrangement.”
“Oh. She does whatever the hell she likes, and likewise I guess.”
“But you’re still on good terms, I mean.”
“As much as you can be.” He stopped walking. “She’s seeing someone. The cop.”
“And you knew about this?”
“After I arrived back in Willits. Yeah.”
“But not before.”
He shook his head and they continued until they arrived at a room full of technology, desktop computers and laptops, and a table with a large ham radio setup. “I had the ham radio in Steven’s office but decided to move it here. It’s the internet room, even though we don’t have internet right now. We used to let guests who stayed use it to contact friends, family, etc.”
He sank into a chair in front of the radio.
Alex stared at the unit. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Sure.”
“If you had divorced, how long would you have waited until you started seeing someone again?”
She blew out her cheeks as she leaned against the wall. “I’ve never been divorced so…”
“Theoretically,” he added.
Jodi shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it varies from person to person. Like when you lose a dog. Some rush out to get one to fill the void, others wait a year or two and some never get another. One thing I’ve learned is not to project what I would do unto others. How they respond has more to do with their background, their upbringing, their life than mine. And besides, it’s your life at the end of the day and it’s a short one. We’re not guaranteed eighty, ninety years. We might only get forty. When I think about Steven. Well, I’m just glad I had the time I did with him. Could we have ended up divorced if he was still alive? Possibly. This place certainly tests your patience.” She smiled at him. “Alex, all we can do is be grateful for the time we get.”
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the reply. Alex turned toward the archaic-looking machinery. “So, how’s this thing work?”
Liam punched the guy in the face for the second time. He fell back in the chair he was strapped into and his head bounced off the floor. Groaning, he lifted his goateed chin which was covered in blood from the repeated beating and spat a glob of blood on the linoleum.
They were inside one of the many abandoned homes owned by residents who had fled Willits.
After finding Joe’s parents dead and informing the others, Liam had gone back into town to find Joe. Easier said than done. With Harry’s place now stripped bare there wasn’t much reason for Jethro to be in Willits. Still, he’d lucked out in the late hours of the night when he came across a tweaker on the east side of town, just off Trudy Lane, breaking into a house in search of ingredients that could be used to create meth. It had been the screams of the occupants that had alerted him.
The elderly woman in her late seventies never stood a chance.
Her husband was bedridden. Liam was seconds away from the freak massacring them both when he entered the house and caught him off guard.
Wielding a machete, he came at Liam, all spit and fury. Liam shot him in the thigh to drop him. He didn’t want to kill him, at least not yet. He needed answers. A location. Details. After the guy buckled, Liam threatened to put another round in his head if he didn’t let go of the machete. The spindly fella reluctantly tossed the blade, then Liam dragged him out of there.
Of course the tweaker said it was a mistake, the wrong house.
Liam wasn’t buying it.
A few houses down, they entered a home with the door wide open and Liam tossed him into a chair and used zip ties to secure him in place before he shone a flashlight on his face and began his barrage of questions.
Fifteen minutes, give or take.
He’d given him plenty of chances to tell him something but he remained tight-lipped. Eventually when he opened his mouth, he said he had nothing to do with Jethro, that he didn’t know him and that he’d never heard of Joe.
That all changed when Liam unleashed a flurry of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts.
Spitting blood, the man begged him to stop. “I don’t know anything, all right? I’m telling you the truth.”
“I don’t believe you.”
A few more cracks to the jaw, with hi
s face swollen and his lip cut, Liam was starting to wonder if the reason he wouldn’t say anything was that he feared what Jethro would do to him. Maybe beating the man was nothing compared to the horrors that awaited anyone who snitched.
He stood back from the guy, his shadow stretching toward him as the light from behind lit up the dark room. Liam walked into the kitchen and wiped the blood from his knuckles using some paper towel before contemplating what to do.
A wave of guilt hit him.
He’d lied to Elisha that evening, told her that he had gone to bury Joe’s parents out of respect for him.
She bought it. Not that she would have questioned him. She was still reeling from the military showing up and taking her mother. With her distracted, he’d slipped out under the cover of night with one goal — to find Joe.
Liam walked back into the room.
The guy was still, his head angled toward the floor, blood dripping off his face and creating a small puddle between his legs. Liam took out his knife, walked over and lifted the guy’s head. “You see this? You have twenty seconds to tell me where he is or I’m going to slowly push this into your leg. Oh, it’s going to feel like fire. Ready? Where is he?”
He began counting.
The guy bellowed back. “I don’t know. You have the wrong guy.”
“Nine, ten, eleven.”
“Come on man! I’m telling you the truth.”
“Fifteen, sixteen.”
Oh he was about to see how far this guy’s loyalty went.
“Twenty.”
Without hesitation Liam brought the knife down to the open wound on his leg and slid it inside, slowly pushing it down to the bone as the guy let out a bloodcurdling scream. “All right. All right. I’ll tell you!”
Shit. What the hell did this guy fear that he was willing to take this much punishment before he broke?
“Joe is dead. Jethro killed him.”
“How?”
He shook his head and looked reluctant to tell him so Liam brought the knife down to his thigh again. “Okay. Please. No more. He released dogs on him. Tore him to pieces.”
“What the fuck?”
Now it made sense. This guy was willing to take a beating because the alternative was being torn apart by wild dogs. “It’s true. I’m telling you the truth. Jethro killed his folks, then had us jump him the other night.”
“What did he want?”
“Names. The people behind the burning of the labs.”
“Did he give them?”
No reply.
“DID HE GIVE NAMES!?” Liam shouted in his face.
“Yes,” the guy spat back looking at him through a busted-up eye.
Liam took a few steps back.
Jethro wouldn’t stop with Joe.
He would keep coming.
“Where is he?”
“He’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“I think Jethro right now is the least of your concerns, asshole,” Liam said, bringing the knife up under his chin and pressing it hard into his larynx.
The guy reeled off the location in Potters Valley. “A farm. You’ll find it on the west side. Big red barn. It’s hard to miss.” He gave him the closest road. Liam nodded and slapped the guy a few times on the side of the face.
“Thank you.”
He turned to leave.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Why, you want me to?” Liam asked.
“No. Can you let me out?”
“Fuck no. Get yourself out.” Liam made it to the door and had partially opened it when the guy added one more piece of information that made him close it.
“You’re Liam, aren’t you?”
Liam stared at the handle.
“He’s killed more of you. He’s coming for all of you. They all are.” As he let out a chuckle, blood and drool dripped to the floor.
“More?” Liam asked looking at him over his shoulder.
“North of Pillsbury Lake. Two guys in a truck.”
He laughed.
Alex. Thomas.
Liam pulled the knife from its sheath again. “Both?”
“What?”
“Are they both dead?”
“One is for sure, the other got away.”
“Which one?”
“How the hell should I know? I wasn’t there. I heard about it today.”
He was glib, cocky, and even looked amused.
Elisha. His mind went to her. What if they’d killed Alex? Did they know where they were? Would Joe have told Jethro about the cabin? His heart started beating faster. “You said he’s coming. They all are. Who’s all?”
“Someone far worse than Jethro. There’s over a hundred of them. They know about that resort too. Yep. You fuckers are dead meat! Now, c’mon man, I told you what you wanted to know. Let me out of here.”
Liam nodded. “Sure.”
He walked around the back of the guy as if he was about to cut his zip ties. He paused for a second, his thoughts drifting to Travis, to Joe, to Alex and Thomas. “C’mon man. Are you going to release me or not?”
“Release? Yeah.” With that said he slit the man’s throat from ear to ear.
15
Willits
Earl had redeemed himself. Under the cover of darkness Jethro peered through night vision binoculars at the resort that was illuminated by solar lights. He watched as the silhouettes of people walked by windows, and two armed individuals patrolled the grounds.
This would be his opportunity to make amends.
After making promises to Rudy and falling short, there was more hanging in the balance than his drug empire — his neck was on the line. He could still feel the pain in his hand even after he’d bandaged it up. The damn thing would take months to heal. He’d be lucky if he regained use of his fingers. If Rudy wasn’t surrounded by so many he would have fed him to the dogs.
“Well done, Earl. Well done.”
He and two others had returned to the north side of the lake and searched for tracks. It didn’t take them long to find ATV tire marks in the wet ground. From there they’d put a drone into the air and pushed it out as they followed the tracks. It had picked up an orange glow emanating from a location near the shore. While the property was remote and they had taken precautions to create smokeless fire pits, there was no hiding the flames. They were easy to pick up from the sky.
“And you are sure this is the same group who ambushed our guys?”
Earl gave a nod. “It has to be. Joe said the broadcast had mentioned a safe zone near Pillsbury Lake. We couldn’t find any other activity around the lake besides here.”
“A resort. Why didn’t I think of that? There are lots of those around these parts. I imagine most are well stocked.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming. “That place has to be loaded with supplies, food, and water.” He narrowed his eyes. “What a great location. Certainly beats my parents’ farm.” He sucked on the cigarette that was hanging out the corner of his mouth. Smoke spiraled up into his right eye. “Well boys, I think we will be relocating.”
There were eight of them crouched in the undergrowth, unseen, thanks to all the gear they’d taken from Harry’s place. What a steal that had been. That old man didn’t know what had hit him.
“You want us to attack tonight?” Earl asked.
Jethro stared. “Not sure. We don’t know how many are in there.”
“I doubt there is more than Rudy’s crew. What if he helped us?”
“We could or we could handle this ourselves.”
Earl shook his head. “No, they made short work of the last guys we sent. With all due respect, Jethro, for the safety of you and the guys, let’s observe tonight and tomorrow morning and then make a decision.”
He nodded. Earl kept him in check, he was one of his closest friends. He’d been with him since the start of his meth business. Although he didn’t listen to the others around him as most were users, Earl had proven himself reliable time after time even if he did screw up occ
asionally.
He brought the binoculars down. “Or we could speed this up.”
“What did you have in mind?” Earl asked.
Jethro pointed into the dark. Walking throughout the grounds of the resort were two guys with rifles. They looked young, inexperienced, certainly no threat to them. “Grab him,” Jethro said pointing one out. Without hesitation three of his guys including Earl moved forward through the tall underbrush, pursuing him like cougars ready to pounce.
The kid had no idea until it was over.
In a sudden and frenzied attack, they swarmed him, one covered his head with a burlap bag, while another pulled the gun away, and the other kicked the back of his legs out. It was controlled and beautifully executed. They dragged him to the ground and dragged him out of there squirming. Jethro looked through a haze of green at the other guy on the far side.
He hadn’t seen or heard a thing.
He was still walking.
Oblivious to it all.
By the time they made it back he could hear the kid mumbling something. His muffled words wouldn’t be heard until they were far away, deep in the forest, out of sight, out of earshot.
They marched him a good thirty minutes into the heart of the bush.
The sounds of the forest were alive, the chorus of Mother Nature.
Tree frogs croaked and small animals scurried away as they pulled the stranger into a clearing and removed the bag from his head. His eyes bulged revealing his fear as they encircled him like lions ready to devour. He couldn’t escape. There was nowhere to go. He could cry out but no one would hear him. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. He was breathing hard. “What do you want?”
Jethro wasn’t one to toy with people.
There was no time for that.
“Numbers. How many are in that resort?”
“Why?”
Jethro backhanded his face then crouched beside him. “I ask the questions, you answer them. It will go much smoother for you. Okay? Now what’s your name?”
“Shaun.”
“And what’s your association to the resort?”
“My mother runs it.”