Jakarta Pandemic, The (44 page)

Alex arrived at the bottom of the stairs and glanced at the front door curtains, still not seeing anyone.

Mudroom for sure.

He headed toward the kitchen area and saw the shadow of a figure under the blanket covering the slider door to their deck.

Son of a bitch!

He rushed into the kitchen and ducked down behind the kitchen island. Peering over the top of the island, he could see the figure moving around on the deck. It moved toward the kitchen window, which was partially covered with a flimsy, semi-transparent lace curtain. Alex ducked back down as the kitchen darkened slightly from the shadow cast by the figure’s head. The doorbell rang yet again, and Alex wondered if he could move fast enough to blast the head peeking through the window and still catch the guy on the front porch.

Probably not.

The kitchen shadow vanished, and Alex slowly peeked up over the island. He didn’t see any movement on the deck, so he raised himself up and moved toward the mudroom. He deactivated the shotgun’s safety and leaned it up against the pantry door, just inside the kitchen from the mudroom, feeling for the pistol behind his back and tucking the sweatshirt between the pistol and his back so it wouldn’t get in the way of a quick draw.

All set
.

He stepped into the mudroom and stopped a few steps from the kitchen entry, well within grabbing range of his shotgun. He examined the figure standing in front of the door and was glad the shotgun was nearby.

The man stood a few feet back from the door and was dressed in a worn black leather jacket with a blue hooded sweatshirt underneath. His dark brown, shoulder-length hair was stringy and matted, and he wore a brown and gray camouflage patterned baseball cap. The outfit alone disturbed Alex, but not as much as the man’s face.

He stared into the man’s lifeless, bloodshot eyes. He had seen these eyes before, but not for a long while. The man’s eyes flicked to the left, returning quickly to Alex.

This man is capable of anything.

He didn’t need to know anything else about the man. He considered his next move. Having stared at the man for fewer than five seconds, he knew that the best outcome for the entire neighborhood would be for him to shoot the man between the eyes right now. Alex knew that sooner or later, he’d be weighing this option again.

Probably sooner rather than later.

Alex decided to remain silent and let the man initiate first contact. He continued to stare at the man with what he hoped appeared to be complete disinterest.

The man didn’t react to Alex’s silence, and he started to second guess his strategy. He examined the man’s face more closely. His skin was pale, almost grayish, mottled with angry acne scars; broken blood vessels tracked across his reddish-purple nose. Hollow blue eyes sat underneath thick eyebrows and a deeply wrinkled forehead.

“Is this how it’s gonna be around here?” the man uttered loud enough to be heard through the two doors.

“How’s what going to be?” Alex replied and hoped that he sounded convincing.

“This,” he said with a minor hand gesture and a queer smirk, “nobody answering their fucking doors. We’re gonna need some help. It was a long trip up from Mass.”

“Had to change cars a few times?” Alex asked.

The man cracked a sly smile. “The Murrays didn’t exactly leave anything useful behind,” he said.

“I don’t think they were expecting squatters,” Alex said and crossed his arms.

“So, are you gonna help us out, or not?” the man asked, and his smile dissolved.

“Look, you’re not going to find any help around here. Everyone’s struggling, and there’s nothing to go around,” Alex said.

“You don’t look like you’re struggling,” he said, never taking his eyes off Alex’s.

I don’t think he’s blinked yet.

The man’s eyes suddenly darted to the right. A bolt of fear hit Alex, as he remembered the other guy out back. He glanced to his left, at the door to the garage, knowing that the door was locked with a deadbolt. Same with the door to the garage.

No way for anyone to sneak up on me without making some noise.

“You’d be better off heading further upstate. Trust me. No one’s happy to see you here. You, or your friend back there,” Alex said, motioning with his head toward the back of the house.

“So you’re not gonna help?” the man pressed.

“No.”

“I’ll remember that,” the man said, nodding his head. He pulled a folded sheet of slightly crumpled yellow legal paper and a pen out of an interior jacket pocket. Alex recognized the green and yellow pen.

TerraFlu. Must have lifted it from Greg’s.

He unfolded the paper and started writing.

He’s making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice. Shitball man is coming to town. He knows if you’ve been eating, he knows if you have heat…

Alex started to smile as the tune played out in his head.

“Something funny?” the man stopped writing to yell.

“Nope,” he said and paused, “I don’t want to see you guys around this house again.”

“Or what?” the man said. He folded the paper back up into his jacket pocket.

Alex just shrugged his shoulders. He considered telling the guy to stay away from Ed’s house, but decided against it. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but his gut told him that it would be a mistake, that it could possibly have the opposite effect. The man stared at Alex with dead, cold eyes for a few more seconds before he turned around and left the mudroom stoop.

Emotionless, but calculating
.

Alex watched him walk through the bushes in front of the walkway toward Ed’s yard. A second man dressed in black jeans and a faded woodland patterned camouflage jacket joined him as he reached the far left edge of Alex’s house. The second man’s bright red and blue knit cap stood in stark contrast to both of their outfits.

Patriots fan? Come on in, boys!

Alex scrambled back into the kitchen, nearly knocking over the shotgun, and grabbed the cordless phone. He dialed Ed’s number.

“What’s up, man?” Ed answered.

“I don’t have time to explain, but whatever you do, do
not
answer the door in the next couple of seconds. Don’t even go downstairs. The nutcases we saw last night just cased my house and rang my doorbell for like ten minutes. The guy I talked to at the door looks like a pure sociopath. Real scary.”

“I’ve been watching them work their way around the block. One guy goes to the front door, and the other guy snoops around the back. I don’t think anyone’s answered their door,” Ed said.

“We need to start calling around the block to make sure no one does. I’m telling you, man, the guy at the front door looked scary. I’ve seen his look before and it scares me to see it again. This is not the kind of guy you want setting foot inside your house. Trust me,” Alex said.

“I believe you, man. I didn’t plan on letting him in—”

“I wouldn’t even show your face. A guy like this feeds on fear. If he senses hesitation, a lack of confidence, any weakness at all, he’ll act on it immediately. At the minimum, he’ll exploit it later, when he’s truly desperate, which might not be too far away. I don’t think they brought any food with them.”

“Shit, he’s already ringing the doorbell. Alex, I’ll call you in a little bit. I need to make sure no one answers the door.”

“Gotcha. I’m gonna let these assholes know you’re not going to answer. That nobody is. Start making calls to everyone on the outside of the loop. I’ll take the inside,” Alex said.

“Okay, will do. Later.” Ed hung up.

Alex returned to the mudroom and contemplated what he had just told Ed.

I’m going out there?

He deliberated for a few more seconds. He had two main concerns. His first consideration was the third male adult that Charlie had seen in the car. If a third guy was following a few houses behind the first pair, he could be taken by surprise from behind. Ed had only seen two guys, but Ed probably wasn’t looking for a third.

He doesn’t think like that
.

He reached behind his lower back and adjusted the sweatshirt to cover the pistol, just in case the third man was watching.

The other concern was less immediate, but no less troubling. He was fairly confident that he’d already made this man’s shit list, but by drawing even more attention to himself, he was likely to end up at the very top of the list.

If I don’t do this, someone will get robbed or killed today.

He slipped on his sandals, unlocked the mudroom door’s deadbolt, and stepped through both doors onto the mudroom stoop.

Wow, that’s cold.

A frigid wind whipped into the semi-enclosed stoop, biting into his hands and stinging his face.

Once again underdressed.

He looked down at his feet. “At least I have socks this time,” he muttered.

He stepped down onto the walkway and turned left, facing the Walkers’ house. The Walkers’ mudroom stoop was blocked from his view by their garage, so he moved several feet into his own front yard. He could see the backside of one man standing at the Walkers’ mudroom door, the man’s outfit confirming that he was the same man that had rung Alex’s doorbell.

The other guy’s already peeking through windows.

“Here we go,” he said to no one in particular. “Hey, Manson!” he yelled over the wind.

The man turned around slowly and took a few steps toward Alex. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d react if the man continued to move toward him. The man didn’t answer, only nodded his head upward once, and stared at Alex.

“The word’s out, and nobody’s gonna answer. You’d be better off moving on to a happier hunting ground,” he yelled at the man.

“And I have you to thank for this hospitality?” he asked, reaching quickly into his coat pocket.

Alex stiffened and fought every impulse to grab his pistol. In a fraction of a second, Alex’s logical side overrode the irrational. His hand only managed to move a few inches back along his right leg during the mental battle. He knew that if the man drew a gun, he could negate the man’s advantage by darting to either side and pulling his own weapon. At that point, it would be an even shooting match…or maybe not. The man could be an excellent shot, or he could have no experience at all. Alex figured it more likely that the man knew his way around firearms. Either way, his instinct was to actively avoid a pistol duel at twenty meters with anyone, especially out in the open.

A flash memory of the man’s yellow legal paper, located on the same side of the jacket settled the struggle, and his hand stayed alongside his leg. The man pulled the notepad and pen out of a pocket inside his jacket, and Alex felt his body start to relax.

He started to write in the notepad again.

He’s making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice. Manson Claus is coming to town.

“You gonna give me a ticket for my lack of hospitality?” Alex asked with the start of a grin.

“Just keeping track,” Manson said and put the notepad back inside his jacket.

Alex watched the man’s movements closely and decided to head back toward his house.

“Not much left here to go around. You might have better luck up north. Less people, less problems…”

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not with a storm coming in,” the man interrupted, looking up at the thick gray sky.

Alex’s eyes followed skyward as another gust of frigid northern air washed over the neighborhood, bathing him in arctic air. He fought the urge to shiver and thought about the impending storm, a low pressure burst of warm, tropical air, soon to collide with this stationary high pressure system.

Disaster for sure.

He shrugged and started to back up toward his mudroom door, never turning his back on the man. Just as he reached his mudroom, the second man came into view from around the far side of Ed’s house. He walked up to Manson, and they started talking. They both stared at Alex with intense hatred for several seconds before walking across Ed’s yard to the Andersons’ house.

I hope Todd already warned them.

He stepped inside the mudroom and locked both doors, then entered the garage to verify that the garage door was still locked and deadbolted. He also tested the three windows to make sure they were secure.

Don’t need any surprises.

Satisfied with the garage, he walked back into the mudroom and locked the door behind him, doorknob
and
deadbolt. Then he walked back over to the mudroom entrance door and checked the locks again, despite the fact that he locked them less than two minutes before. He looked at his watch.

“Captain’s log. 8:27, Saturday, December 1st, Alex Fletcher is officially declared paranoid,” he stated aloud.

Just as he finished his proclamation, an overwhelming urge to recheck the garage rose within him. He glanced at the garage door again and shook his head, kicked off his sandals, and headed upstairs to check in with Kate. After that, he’d start making some calls to the neighbors on the inner loop. He rounded the bedroom corner and saw Kate and the kids burrowed under the covers. He heard Kate’s voice surface.

“What was going on out there?”

“Oh, nothing. Just the new neighbors. The Manson family replaced the Murrays,” he said.

“That bad?” she asked, poking her head out of the covers.

“Maybe worse. Their front man looks extremely dangerous. I haven’t seen a wild look like that in a long time. We’ll need to have a serious talk about nighttime security around here. Hey, I gotta make some calls. Ed and I are warning the neighbors not to open their doors to these guys,” he said and started walking out of the bedroom.

“How about some heat before you start riding your horse around the block? The kids are frozen,” she complained.

“Just for the Paul Revere reference alone, I give you heat,” he said and adjusted the thermostat before he left the room.

“Not because I’m the love of your life?” she asked.