The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

Non-Fiction 

A Writer’s Guide perfect for anyone aspiring to put pen to paper. Learn where to start your story, about point of view, and the difference between passive and active in Story & Style, The Craft of Writing Creative Fiction.

Children of Eber

A Biblical fiction; volume four of The Generations series /
November
, 2015

     Get to know young Abram and Sarai, their lives before marriage and God’s command. Meet Hagar, Ishmael, and Isaac as they all live out their stories.

Just Kin

A historical Christian Texas Romance; book six /
January,
2016

     Charley Nightingale comes home from the Civil War to find Lacey has run off, heading out to join the People of her father and Charley takes out after her alone.

Then Judgement

A Biblical fiction; volume one of new He Who Ascended series /
March 6
, 2016

     The story of what happened the three days Christ was supposedly in the grave. Launching in time for the Passover and Resurrection Sunday. You will not want to miss this one!

Also comin
g
: Days of Dread Trilogy book two The Sixth Trumpet and book three The Kidron Valley; historicals
At Liberty to Love, The Bedwarmer’s Son, The Chief of Sinners, and The Son of Promise in the Texas Romance series
;
and more
Biblical fiction

For your enjoyment…a preview of book two in the Days of Dread Trilogy. If you want THE SIXTH TRUMPET sooner than later, let the author know if you love THE KING’S HIGHWAY and be sure to tell all your friends to read it! Reviews on Amazon help, too! Contact me if you’d like to be an advance reader!

Jackson looked around the table. “I plan on leaving in four days. Right after moonrise.”

To his surprise, no one said anything,

For a minute of heavy silence, he waited, then stood and walked out the front door onto the wide, wrap-around porch. Down the hill from the big house, two younger guys plowed with a team of six mules.

One of the old men followed behind them with an even older tractor pulling a planter. Maybe he should insist Al stay and help get the newer tractors running. Man, that EMP messed up everything.

What would he give for a good old Dr. Pepper right about now?

The screen door slammed. His sister already had her fists on her hips. “Forget it, you can’t go.”

Jackson turned and gave her his best smirky smile, the one she hated most. “McKenzie, I was telling everyone, not asking permission.”

For a bit, she stood there next to him staring off toward the plow boys. They’d reached the north end and were swinging the mules around. You had to give them credit; they were getting the job done.

She turned back with tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t. I couldn’t stand you and Al being gone. We’re safe here. Stay. Please, brother, don’t go back to Dallas and all its craziness.”

“What about Mom? She isn’t safe. She’s in trouble, and I’ve got to go get her.”

His sis crossed her arms. “You don’t know where she is! Maybe she’s almost here already. Just wait awhile to see if she shows up.” Her eyes brimmed full again. A little sob escaped. “Jackson, you don’t even know for sure if Mama’s alive.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Well it’s true! Just because you’ve dreamed about her doesn’t mean she is. It could even mean she isn’t. You just can’t go out there and get yourself killed because you had a stupid dream. Stay here, please.”

“No.” He shook his head. “She’s alive. I know it, and she needs me. Al can stay if he wants. I’m going.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she glared. “If you go, you know good and well he will, too. He’s already told me. Meems and Pop and Uncle Roy need you here. Why don’t you think of someone beside yourself for once?”

He wrapped his arms around her then kissed the top of her head exactly like their father used to do when she got on her high horse. She tried to push him away, but he held on. For a heartbeat, she resisted then melted into him and cried, let him hold her tight. He hated to hurt her.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be back in no time. And with Mom, I promise.”

She shook her head then raised her eyes. “No, don’t say that. I’ve lost Mama and Daddy, and now you’re leaving. It isn’t right!”

An urge grew strong to tell her that he’d stay, make her happy, but he couldn’t do that.

The old man had showed him exactly where his mother was three times now; and not in a dream, because he hadn’t been asleep. Sort of like a movie, except so much more than some flick. He’d seen where the guy held her prisoner. When he tried to talk to her though, she acted like she didn’t hear him.

The whole thing weirded him out. But.…

The screen door opened. “Jackson, for Heaven’s sake. What’s wrong with your sister? Is she crying?”

He turned around. His grandmother stood in the door with little Gracie on her hip. “Nothing, Meems. Sister’s just missing Mom and –”

“Tell him, Meems.”

“Tell him what, child?”

McKenzie pushed away from him then walked to her and took the baby. “Tell him not to go. He’s crazy. He thinks he knows where Mama is, and he’s so sure that he can save her.”

“Calm down now, ‘Kenzie girl. Nothing’s been decided yet. The Commissioner’s Court meets tomorrow morning.” She shrugged. “Pop and your Uncle Roy…well, we’re not sure what’s going to happen.”

“But they can’t let them go.”

“Them? Who else is thinking of going?” She looked to Jackson then furrowed her eyebrows. “Not Aria.”

“No, ma’am. Not her. Al said flat out that he was going if Jackson went.”

“Oh, yes, I can see that. It’s obvious he thinks very highly of your brother.” His fluffy, favorite old lady reached over and tapped the baby’s chin. “Are you Meems’ sweet baby girl?” The little one smiled her bright, happy, toothless grin. “Yes, you are.”

All females were alike with babies, age made no matter.

She looked back to McKenzie. “Well, one thing’s for sure, you girls can’t leave. Little Gracie and I need you two here.”

Jackson nodded, but didn’t say anything. His grandmother was absolutely right about that. No way would he haul the spoiled Latino beauty or his mule-headed sister back to the Metroplex. One know-it-all was enough, and the nerd already proved his worth. As company went, Jackson would actually rather take someone else.

But he didn’t see that happening.

The commissioners might nix him even taking Al. The boy genius amazed everyone with his knowledge and abilities. Man, the guy already had a shortwave working and a wind generator with a solar panel to power it. And all from what Jackson would’ve deemed junk.

The rest of that day, while he went about marking off his assigned chores, a gray cloud settled over his soul. By the time the sun set in a blaze of amazing glory, the cloud of dread had blackened into a full blown thunderhead. Little tornadoes spun and twisted in his chest, ripping at his resolve, tearing at his gut and his heart.

A rolling rumble intensified then boomed what an idiot he was. Lightning spelled out fool’s errand across the black sky of his mind. Could it be that the dreams were some sick joke the devil played on him like his sister claimed? But then, he didn’t believe in Satan any more than he believed in God.

Did he?

He wished he could figure out the strange man—what he was all about. How would anyone explain the old geezer? And if an angel like McKenzie thought, why would he be helping Jackson anyway? He had to have some kind of angle. He grinned. An angel with an angle.

Humor might as well take first chair, reason and logic were definitely out the window.

That evening, an hour or so before dark, the daydream came again—if that’s even what it was. He hadn’t told anyone the bizarre imaginings came when he was wide awake. Or that they played out so real. He could even smell his mother’s perfume, that fragrance she always saved for when dad came home, the one Jackson loved best.

What was the name of it and how could it be that she wore it in the dreams? The bottle sat on her dresser back in Irving, on that little mirror tray. He’d seen it plain as day when he’d been searching for candles that first night before dark. And if the visions were true, she was locked in a jail cell, so how could she get it?

Why couldn’t she hear him? He wished he could talk to her, get her advice.

He opened his eyes, and she was gone. He hated seeing all this horrible stuff. Why couldn’t he dream of the old days, envision how wonderful his world was before the flash, before the power went off and everything electronic died? He sure had taken those days for granted.

Man, what would he give to have them back? Didn’t matter. Whatever he might be willing to part with couldn’t undo the EMP, its affects, or the invasion. The Commies exploded that electromagnetic pulse bomb, and he lived in a new, terrible world where people in the big cities had gone mad in the absence of law.

After a delicious supper—why did the old folks called it that instead of dinner? He couldn’t get used to Dinner and supper instead of lunch and dinner. At least breakfast remained the same.

The next morning after another huge, scrumptious meal, more than he could even eat, Uncle Roy had a couple of men hitch two mules to the big wagon. Most everyone climbed aboard, including his little brother’s Great Pyrenees. It surprised him the women didn’t object, but no one said anything about it.

The driver jerked the reins across the team’s backs and headed to town.

Jackson hated the looks McKenzie kept shooting his way, but the way Aria kept acting, he hated even worse. Something was definitely cooking in that beautiful head of hers, but he could not put his finger on it. And she obviously avoided any time to talk things through. 

When the driver pulled onto the fairgrounds, it looked like everyone in the county had come. Wagons and teams and horses were everywhere. Folks meandered into the huge metal building where every fall they’d once shown off first place quilts and art and the biggest, best vegetables.

Would they ever have County Fairs again? Probably, right?

It quickly filled, leaving standing room only. Of course, the old folks got the seats. He and the other kids leaned against the back wall. Good thing Meems had baby Gracie. No doubt, McKenzie and Aria would be expecting him to take a turn holding her if not. She was a cute little baby and everything, but…. 

His little brother tugged on his sleeve. “Jackson.”

He leaned over and put his ear close to Cooper’s mouth. “What?”

“Boggs says he’ll go with you guys, but I can’t.”

Jackson straightened up and nodded. Who was he to say dogs couldn’t talk to nine-year-olds in the new normal? Maybe that EMP had done more than knock out the power. Definitely seemed to have a bad effect on a lot of people, why not a good effect on dogs?

Anyway, at least it sounded like Cooper wouldn’t be pitching a fit over not going along.

A deputy held his hands up. “Let’s come to order, folks. There’ll be order in the Commissioner’s Court.” The loud buzz died to silence. “Thank you kindly. The Honorable Roy B. Buckmeyer presiding.” The man called out each of the commissioners. Probably, Jackson should have paid attention, but he didn’t care much about names on that morning.

He loved it that his uncle was the man in charge of the whole county. Even the sheriff answered to him. And he held the reins over the commissioners, too. But not like a dictator or anything. After coming all the way to Red River County, a hundred and fifty miles—give or take—through the horrors of dysfunctional lawlessness, Jackson gained a whole new appreciation for law and order.

He loved being here.

The meeting droned on with a bunch of talk; some boring, some cool, especially the hog hunting and patrol reports. He’d have to go with the hunters when he got back, sounded fun. Hearing how the southern guard repelled the looters was the best.

Shame he hadn’t been in on the fire fight when the bangers crossed the Sulphur River, but maybe it was a good thing, too. Could he really shoot someone?

“Jackson Allison and Albert Hawking, please come forward and address the court.”

His heart skipped then burst into double or triple time, beating like his chest was a bongo. Address the court? Why hadn’t Pop said anything about that? Told Jackson what to expect? He sure could have used some warning. He’d never talked in front of a bunch of strangers before.

His uncle smiled, and his breath came a bit easier. He returned the comforting gesture and walked forward with Al on his heels.

“It’s a free country, Jackson. You boys can leave at any time, but what’s at question is whether or not we’re going help you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give us the short version of why you think you can find your mother. I hear tell Dallas has gone crazy.”

Jackson launched into his story.

He told them of the strange old man, how he had helped him find his way to his grandparents’ in Honey Grove then on to Red River County. He left out the part of the note changing miraculously—he was pretty sure with his sister’s assistance, even though he didn’t know her to be liar—but did mention how the number sequences matched those on the electric power lines and substations along the way.

“The note said to follow the King’s Highway, and the land beneath those high wires sure looked a lot like a green highway, no underbrush, all mowed. Have to say it sure made for easy traveling, away from the crowds, with cover along the edges when we needed it.”

Trying his best not to make himself sound like a crazy goofball, he replayed seeing Gracie’s parents murdered, and how the old man sent him to rescue the baby. Then he launched into the vivid dreams of his mother, and he called them dreams keeping quiet about being awake when they came.

“I can’t ignore them, sirs. I know where she is, and she needs me. I’ve got to go help her. She’s my mother. My sister McKenzie and my little brother Cooper shouldn’t have to grow up without their mama. Meems and Pop need her. And I need her, too.”

His uncle nodded. At best, he’d label the expressions on the faces of most the commissioners as skeptical, maybe a little suspicious, too. No doubt they thought he was crazy or worse. But they didn’t matter. He’d go with or without their help.

Uncle Roy turned his attention toward Albert Einstein Hawking who’d been standing by Jackson’s side. “What about you, Son? What’s your story?”

Al stepped forward. “Your Honor, Distinguished Commissioners.” He bowed slightly. “I consider Jackson Allison my captain. I’m indebted to him for saving my life. Though my own parents are lost to me, I can only hope they’re alive and that one day, I’ll see their faces again. But sirs, if Jackson says he knows where his mother is, I believe he does. My confidence in him is absolute.” He faced the men sitting and, stopping briefly, nodded at each one. “I have no agenda but to serve my captain. I go where he goes.”