The King of Clayfield - 01 (23 page)

As we approached the stairs, I noticed a yellow business card on the counter. The name on the card was Frankie
 
Jakes--a
 
real estate leasing agent. Then I saw a purse in the floor behind the counter. There was a
 
McDonald's coffee cup on its side next to it. The coffee was spilled out
 
forming a dark little evaporated puddle around its mouth. I
 
opened the purse and
 
looked in the wallet
 
for the driver's license. It was the woman upstairs.
 
The name on the license said Frances Ann Jakes.

"Maybe the person she was showing the place to is still inside," I said, handing the card to Somerville.

"Let's hope so," he said.

We separated into two groups at the second floor landing.

Jen stepped into the room full of furniture and stopped at
 
Ms. Jakes'
 
body.

Jen didn't mention the corpse.

"Did you search this room?"

"No, actually, I didn't make it in any farther than this window."

We stepped around the body and wound our way through the furniture to the window on the courthouse side of the building.

Frankie hadn't been sick the whole time. It looked like she'd been hiding here for a little while. There was a spot on the floor beneath the window where she'd made herself a pallet out of
 
a couple of
 
antique quilts. She'd slept there at least one night.
 
In the corner near the old bathtub was a
 
drawer from a piece of furniture. She'd
 
used that as a toilet.
 
The only
 
sign that she had anything to eat
 
was a
 
Snickers wrapper.

I felt even sadder for her than I had before. Jen stepped on the quilts and looked out the window.

"It must have been horrible to look out there and see all those things waiting in the street," she said.
 
"No way out. Nobody to help."

"Let's look on the third floor," I said, eager to get out of the room.

We took the stairs
 
to the third floor.
 
There was
 
a door
 
on the landing
 
accessing it, but it was locked. Jen knocked.

"Anyone in there?"

She knocked again.

"I'll go up the fire escape and see what I can see," I said.

I went back down to the second floor,
 
did my best not to step on
 
Ms. Jakes, then out the window, and back up to three.

There were no curtains on the third floor windows. I cupped my eyes and pressed my face to the glass. The room was completely empty except for a small table lamp sitting in the floor next to the door. I broke the window with the rifle and climbed inside. I opened the door for Jen, but she wasn't there.

"Jen?"

I found her down on the second floor landing talking with Somerville. She looked up at me as I came down the stairs.

"They found
 
another woman," Jen said. "But we'll have to carry her."

"Let's carry her out, then," I said.

"She's really heavy,"
 
Somerville said. "I don't know if we can carry her down the stairs."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know.
 
Sara found her in a back room. She's
 
not conscious, and her
 
ankle is bruised and swollen."

"I don't mean to sound callous," I said, "but can we take care of her even
 
if we get her out?"

"We can't
 
just leave her," Somerville said.

Sara cleared her throat.

"Maybe a sled? We could get her down the stairs like that."

Somerville and Jen looked at her with confused expressions, but I knew what she was getting at.

"Okay," I said. "There are some old beds in here. If we can get her on one of the headboards we can slide her down the stairs on it. We could tie something to it to lower her down slowly. But once she's down there, we'll need a way to get her in the car. Then after that....I don't know.

She was a big woman,
 
but not that big.
 
Maneuvering down the stairs with her would have been difficult, but once down, I didn't see any reason why the four of us couldn't carry her to the car.

Jen
 
and
 
Sara got the
 
old quilts
 
from the other room.

Tugging on her clothes on one side, Somerville and I were able to lift her up
 
enough
 
for Jen and Sara put the quilts under her.

We dragged her to the landing on the quilts.

Somerville and I went
 
into the other room for a headboard.

"These
 
are all too wide to go down those stairs," he said.
 

He looked around the room. Then he went over
 
and picked up a couple of bed slats.

"We might just have to make a stretcher and try
 
carrying her--"

Then he parted the curtain on the window.

"Damn it all to hell,"
 
he said. "There are
 
two of them out by the vehicles, and I see
 
two more coming
 
down
 
the street."

"Are they headed to the siren?"

"Nope."

CHAPTER 23

"Everybody grab a corner!" Somerville said as he pushed past me onto the landing. "We have to go right now!"

He grabbed the corner of the quilt by the woman's right foot and looked back at us until we'd all grabbed our own. It was a bumpy ride for the woman. It was a good thing she was unconscious.

Once we had her on the first floor, Somerville reached inside his jacket, pulled out three
 
12 gauge shells, and started loading his gun.

"Are you two loaded?"

We nodded.
 

"Are you ready? Here we go."

We dragged her from the stairs to the front door. Somerville pulled the door open.

"Sara, darlin',
 
hold this door for us."

Then he stepped outside and pumped off two rounds, dropping both of the close ones.
 
The other two that were up the street came toward us in a trot. He fired again, and
 
caught one of them in the face.
 

Jen and I
 
got the woman onto the front sidewalk, while Somerville reloaded. There was a drop from the sidewalk to the pavement.

"We'll never
 
be able to lift
 
her into the car," I said. "We'll have to
 
put her in the back of the truck."

I ran to
 
Somerville's pickup and backed it up to the sidewalk. Somerville shot the fourth one. Jen let down the tailgate. It was above the sidewalk about a foot, but that was doable. The shotgun fired again. I looked up and there were three more coming from the east down South Street.

Jen, Sara, and I pulled the woman into the back of the truck.

"Sara, hop in and drive," Jen said. "Pull us up behind city hall next to the red and white pickup."

Somerville fired again, and I got out of the truck to help him.
 

As the truck pulled away, Jen was wrapping a quilt around the woman to keep her warm.

I put the rifle to my shoulder. I didn't like the scope; it was awkward trying to aim. I did my best to get one of the
 
approaching figures in the crosshairs
 
and squeezed the trigger. It wouldn't shoot. I tried again.

"It won't shoot!" I said.

"Get in the car," Somerville said. "We'll just leave."

He took the rifle.

"You never ejected the last shell," he said.

We
 
got in the police
 
car and drove to city hall.

"What now?" Jen said.

"We need to get this woman some medical treatment," Somerville said. "I'm guessing since there are cleanup crews clearing bodies, there must be medical help, too."

"There ain't no crews!" Jen said. "This is it, dammit! We're it! The people are getting up and walking away."

"I know what you say," Somerville said. "But we should at least take a look over at the hospital."

"No," Jen said. "There won't be anyone at that hospital. We might want to go out there for medicine, but there ain't no help. Ain't nobody going to save us."

Somerville stared at her.
 

"Okay," he said. "Cover her up good, and I'll take her to the
 
doctor by myself."

"Jen's right," I said. "It'll be a wasted trip, probably a dangerous one, too."

"I said okay,"
 
Somerville said, angry. "I'll take her by myself."

"Why don't you come with us? We're staying out at a friend’s place
 
out in the county. We've got a
 
wood stove and--"

"No,"
 
Somerville said. "I'm going home this evening.
 
Judy is expecting
 
me back before dark."

"What?" Jen said. "Your wife? Is she safe there?"

"She'll be fine," he said. "She's got a three fifty-seven and a taser."

"Do you have booze? You've been exposed, you know."

"We can't stand around here shooting the shit all day," Somerville said. "They're coming down the street.
 
Sara, are you coming with me?"

Sara was over at the police car digging through the trunk.

"Look what I found," she said, holding up a large first aid kit. She bent over the trunk again and pulled out a black 12 gauge with a pistol grip.

"Better let me have that, darlin'," Somerville said.
 

Sara slid the
 
fore stock back slowly.
 
A shell poked out of the ejection port, and she pushed it
 
back in.
 
Then she clicked it back into place.

"Nah," she said. "I think I'll keep it."

Somerville grinned, "Okay then. You coming with me?"

Sara nodded and climbed into the passenger side of
 
his truck.

He looked at us one more time.

"We'll follow you out to the hospital," I said, "but we're not staying in town tonight."

He grinned again and winked at us.

I looked over to Jen. She rolled her eyes.

Jen and I followed behind him in the old pickup. We had our
 
water and wine
 
from Brian's house in there, and we didn't want to leave that behind.

"Maybe we'll get out there and find some more survivors," I said.

"Whatever," she said, looking out her window.

"We need to stick together," I said. "There aren’t many of us."

"Sounds like he has a convert," she said.

"What's the problem?"

"The problem," she said, "is that you keep
 
letting
 
him call all the shots. And he's going to do it, too,
 
because he's used to doing it."

"What do you have against him?"

"It's nothing personal," she said. "I just don't like getting bossed around."

She looked over at me.
 
From the look in her eyes, I thought she was about to
 
apologize for being so grumpy. Instead—

"Damn, you need a bath."

We took a left onto the bypass, and the woman in the back of Somerville's truck sat up.