The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

Long after his turn should have been over, he kept at it. His legs burned, his back ached, and his hands wanted to do anything else, but the girls hadn’t been able to keep up much of a pace. And the nerd and his brother proved even worse—which he didn’t think possible. Just as the sun touched the treetops, the high-lines stretched across the four-lane blacktop.

He turned north and pulled the cart into a clump of trees fifty yards or so off the cleared path—at least a couple of hundred yards from the real highway.

He eased the poles to the ground. “Al, what’s the moon doing tonight?”

The nerd did his memory searching thing then smiled. “Moonrise will occur at eleven twenty-six.”

Jackson took the rifle back from Cooper again then searched the sky. Pretty cloudless, only a few high ones. “What quarter will it be in?”

“First. I’d anticipate sufficient illumination for travel, sir.”

“Okay. Let’s grab something to eat here, and everyone get some sleep. We’ll pull out at moonrise-thirty.”

McKenzie glared at him like she wanted to argue about traveling at night, but instead she picked up Gracie then pulled out her pack from under the makeshift baby bed. “Can we have a fire?”

“Small one should be fine.”

“I’ll gather some kindling and sticks.” Cooper took off deeper into the woods.

“Wait up,” Al called after him. “I’ll help.”

After splurging on a fine feast of three MREs, a good hunk each of the homemade beef jerky Pop had left for them, and some of Meems’ awesome sweet peaches, Jackson settled in for a nap with strict orders for McKenzie to wake him before she lay down. As she was told, she shook him after what seemed like only a few minutes, but night had fallen.

“Sorry, Brother, but I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“No problem.” He stood and stretched. “Go ahead and get some rest. I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.” She eased close. “You know, I’m so tired. Can’t we just sleep the night through here? We didn’t have any trouble or anything, and we’re in the country. Why do we have to travel at night again?”

Explain, explain, explain. Why did she always have to ask him why?

“We are only about ten miles or so from Paris, Sis. It’s the last big city we’ll have to go through. If we take Eighty-two, we can be on the other side of town before the sun gets up. And that cart should be a lot easier to pull on the highway.”

“Oh, okay. Guess that makes sense.” She patted his arm. “I love you, Bro. Thanks for getting us this far.” Then she eased down on the quilt, where the baby slept next to Aria, and cuddled up to Gracie. She fell to sleep almost instantly if her night sounds proved a good indication.

A mess of coyotes howled out in the woods. Another lot answered from behind him. Sounded like a hundred of the mangy critters surrounded them. When he was little, they’d always put fear in his heart, but along with a certain fascination.

Afar off, Boggs’ deep rumbling bark comforted him. It moved across the blackness, silencing the wild canines as he went. It sure comforted Jackson to know that dog was out there on the job. After a few more howls, the night fell silent.

Shame he didn’t have a cup of sweet hot coffee. He didn’t, but no matter what, he had to stay awake.

Sloppy wetness on his cheek pulled him toward consciousness. He pried his eyes open. Boggs licked him again. Jackson jumped to his feet; the crescent moon peeked over the eastern horizon. Moonrise-thirty, or so it seemed to him. He leaned over and patted the dog’s shoulder. “Thanks, boy.”

The animal gave him his same old, silly grin like he knew exactly what he’d done. Maybe an alien after all? Jackson put who or what the dog was out of his mind. Such information was above his pay-grade as his father used to say. Dad…if only…. Jackson sighed. Might never see his father again.

His people needed to get to Uncle Roy’s. Then Jackson could rest.

Would they be safe there? Was there even such a place anymore?

The cart glided over the asphalt like it had wings, well almost. Jackson took the first and longest turn, then the girls a half turn, then the boys a quarter turn, and then him again. Man, he had to bulk up both of those guys once… No, he let that thought die the death; couldn’t be planning on anything but putting one foot in front of the other right now.

Getting them past Paris before the sun rose, even before first light, was his present goal, and that’s what he had to put his alls on.

First light.

The only time he’d ever beat the sun up before all the craziness started was when he’d gone deer hunting with his father at Uncle Roy’s. Had to be in the stand early, while it was still plenty dark his uncle said, but you can’t shoot one until thirty minutes before sunrise. Jackson never dreamed hunting had so many rules.

He thought you just went out to the woods and shot them.

He learned all about even more rules the next year when he went to the gun safety class. After that, he got to sit in a stand all by himself, but he still hadn’t shot a deer. He’d seen a few, but no legal bucks, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill a doe. Didn’t like deer meat all that much anyway, and his father said you eat what you kill.

The camaraderie of the hunting cabin with all the men though, that was fun even if he didn’t think getting up so early was really worth it.

“Hey, Jackson.” Cooper pointed at a roadside sign. “Paris three miles.”

“Good.” He resisted the urge to run. Three miles; still an hour away. He glanced at the moon that remained on the rising side of overhead. If he got on the road at midnight, then it was probably only about two. So what did he have? Another four hours of darkness? He glanced around. The nerd walked next to McKenzie. “Hey, Al.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time is sunrise today?”

With that recalling memory expression of his, he turned his face to the sky then smiled. “Six fifty-three.”

Jackson nodded then stretched out his stride. If he pushed it, they should make Reno, maybe even Blossom, before everyone got up and about. Surely, there would be somewhere they could hole up in one of the little towns, whichever one they got to. Reno sat right up next to Paris on the far side. Blossom only a few miles farther. What a funny name for a town.

He thought on names for a while, but the burn in his legs and ache in his shoulder soon crowded out all other thoughts. The road dipped down, crossed a creek, then rose toward an overpass. Man, that was quick. Then it dawned on him that the sign measured to downtown Paris, not the outside loop he needed to take.

An arrow on the highway sign pointed left for going to Clarksville.

On the map, it looked about the same distance either way, but he remembered turning the opposite way and asking Pop why he’d gone the wrong way when the sign said to go left. Pop had told him that the southern route didn’t have as many traffic lights and businesses. He pulled the cart to the right.

“Hey, genius, where do you think you’re going? Cause that way is not the way to Clarksville.”

He closed his eyes, stretched his neck, and huffed. “I know you think you are so much smarter, McKenzie, but I have actually been here before and know which way’s best.”

“But the sign clearly said Clarksville was the other way.”

“It’s either way, Sis. Why do you think they call it a loop?”

She didn’t say another word, so she must have either figured it out or decided to trust him. He hadn’t meant to make her sound like a dunce, but the girl flat drove him crazy sometimes thinking she knew it all. Maybe someone as smart as Al would be the only kind she’d ever be able to get along with.

The cart proved to be a huge help on the asphalt, and he didn’t feel bad about turning it over to the girls after the first overpass ramp. A bit after Paris’ deserted new high school complex, the boys took the job. Way too soon, his turn came around, and he was back, dragging the cart, dodging the dead trucks and cars. Would they ever run again?

The nerd walked beside him, carrying the rifle. “Seems to me, sir, if we had canvas shoulder straps, analogous to those enlisted by those men who towed the Phoenix in that old Gary Cooper film, logic suggests our efforts would be eased. Perhaps we might appropriate several seatbelts from some of these abandoned vehicles, stitch them together.”

He glanced at McKenzie as though because she was female, she carried a sewing kit in her backpack. Jackson smiled at the guy. “A leather harness and any beast of burden would be even better.”

“Boggs could do it.” Cooper walked up next to the nerd.

“For sure, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to try hooking him up.” The image of some idiot wrestling a harness on the huge white ball of fur tickled Jackson; he’d hate to ever be on the receiving side of Boggs’ wrath.

“Wouldn’t be no trouble. He’d do it for me.”

He glanced at his little brother and nodded. “No doubt.” He made a mental note to ask Cooper—once it was just the two of them—why Al carried the twenty-two.

The highway looped back north, and he handed the cart’s poles over to the girls again. Man, he needed a sit down. Then again, if he sat, he couldn’t promise to get back up. After a quarter mile or so, the road rose sharply going over another highway. He and the boys helped get the cart up and over, then there it was.

The Clarksville exit. Highway Eighty-two East. Seeing the sign was almost like a long guzzle of blue Gatorade on a hot summer baseball game day. Man, he was getting close. Didn’t matter much now; he had what? Another two hours before the world woke up and traveling the highway wouldn’t be safe?

The boys took over when the road ran in front of Walmart. He couldn’t even imagine what kind of chaos the giant retailer experienced once everyone realized the power wasn’t coming back on. He shook his head. Across the street a Chicken Express made his mouth water. Oh, for the days when a person could drive through and get a box of fried chicken.

Meems might have some chickens to fry, and no fast food tasted as good as Meems’.

He relieved the guys at the Reno’s city limit sign. An hour or so outside of the little town that bordered the not so big Paris, the eastern horizon grew less gray with each step. Fewer stalled vehicles sat farther and farther apart. Blossom would be coming up next. Almost as he thought it, a sign on the side of the road confirmed his supposition.

Blossom, three; Clarksville, twenty-three.

Excellent.

After Blossom, Detroit—the first town in Red River County.

Paris, Reno, Detroit; like the old folks couldn’t think of something original—well, Blossom might be original, but it didn’t sound like a town. Anyway, guess they took after the guys who named New York or New Orleans. The road curved south, then dropped down and crossed a wet-weather creek before rising again with a pretty steep climb for at least a quarter mile.

He looked both ways then nodded north. “Let’s get off the road and find us a place to rest.”

Took all the others’ help to get the cart over the barbed wire fence and through the tangle of underbrush growing along the creek, but Jackson finally got them deep enough into the trees to where he couldn’t see the road.

McKenzie handed him a hunk of jerky and a plastic bottle of water. “Gracie’s up, so I’ll take the first watch.”

“Okay.” He leaned the rifle against the cart’s wheel, found a spot under a fair-sized oak, slumped down, and leaned against the tree’s trunk. He’d never been so tired or sore in his life. Even two-a-day football practices were nothing compared to pulling that cart. He tried to picture the road from there to Clarksville, but it was all a blur.

Farm fields and cows and woods whizzed by his mind’s eye, but nothing stood out. He loved passing signs that said Clarksville was so many miles away, fewer and fewer with each one. Meems and Pop had to be there.

Trying to figure out exactly how much time it would take to make twenty-three miles and repeating the first mathematical calculation at least three times, his mind gave up and slipped into sweet unconsciousness.

A bray knifed through him.

Had he heard that or had it been in his dream?

Where was McKenzie?

He sat up and shook off the sleep fog, searching the campsite. No donkey, only three still lumps under the patchwork quilt and the nerd resting against a tree with the rifle across his lap. Al smiled.

Jackson nodded then stood.

Every fiber of his being protested, but he ignored the aches and pains. Movement would cure what ailed him, not lying about. He walked deeper into the woods. The sun had maybe another hour, hour and a half at the most. Shortly, Al joined him. Without a word, he handed the rifle over.

“You get any rest?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you hear a donkey earlier?”

“No, sir.”

“Must have been dreaming.”

“Possibly. Could be your subconscious. You know, the incongruity of you pulling the cart.”

Jackson smiled at the nerd’s psycho babble. “Maybe, who knows?”

Al stepped closer. “Sir, I need to apologize.”

Jackson faced the nerd. His fists balled involuntarily, and his eyes bore into the younger boy’s. “What’d you do?”

He held his hands up. “No, no. I haven’t done anything. Well, I did misspeak, but the story about Gracie shocked me. I told Cooper that it wasn’t a good sign.” He shrugged. “I apologize for failing to think things through thoroughly before giving voice to my opinion.”

“Okay, you misspoke. So what do you think? Am I crazy? Or do you believe I really heard the old man talking to me? Telling me she needed me.”

“Sir, the baby is real. That’s all the substantiation I require that you were directed to our little Mercy Grace.”

“Do you have an opinion by whom—or should I say what—directed me?”

The nerd smiled. “Your sister makes a powerful argument for the Divine Father, the Creator, God, if you will, sir.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, sir. I must confess I am questioning my original skepticism of a higher power.”

Jackson nodded. Maybe he was too, although he wasn’t ready to say it out loud. He looked skyward. “What time is moonrise?”

“Twelve-eleven.”

“I’m up, if you want to lie back down.”

“Yes, sir, I’d like that.” Al smiled then returned to the campsite.

The sun sank into the west as it had done every day of his life and for how many countless millions or billions of years? But right then, in the fifteenth year of his short life, even though the world had gone crazy, sunset and sunrise remained.

He looked skyward. “If you’re up there, why’d you let this happen?”

Of course, no answer came. But did that prove anything? Jackson didn’t know.

What he did know was that he hated this new reality.

The thought of never seeing his parents again was horrible. And it would be even worse for McKenzie and Cooper. At least he hadn’t had to watch his siblings and father get shot like Aria.

The beauty’s image danced across his mind’s photo gallery. Different shots of her face, her silhouette…he smiled…her eyes. Why had she said she loved him? He knew about loving family, but loving a girl? He wasn’t even sure he liked her yet. And she was older, though not a whole year. Still, he didn’t cotton much for it even if it didn’t really make a difference.

He laughed at himself, using the old folks’ corny slang just because he was in the sticks.

A whimper pulled him from his rumination and back to the camp. McKenzie worked in the last of the daylight at changing the baby. “Hey, get my pack, would you? It’s in the cart.”

He didn’t like her bossing him, but did as she asked. She dug around inside, then as though she’d been doing it for years, had a bottle made, and the baby sucking it contentedly. He’d still be on trying to pin Gracie’s diaper right. Girls must have babying implanted in their genes same as boys wanting to play with cars.

“It’s getting chilly. How about building a fire?”

“Okay.” He grinned. “But you’re not the boss of me.”

She returned his smile then kissed the baby’s forehead. “Your Uncle Jackson thinks he’s a stand up comic, yes, he does.”

The evening dragged on. Eating, gathering firewood, playing with the baby, and listening to his little brother and the nerd play chess only distracted Jackson for a small part of the last hours of the fourteenth day. It even amazed him that he’d made it in the two weeks he’d predicted.

How could everything change so drastically in such a short time?

Finally, the eastern sky lightened a bit. By full moonrise, he had his little troupe back on the black top. It proved even more difficult getting the cart back out to the pavement in the darkness. Stickery Texas ivy caught his ankles and even tripped Aria so that she fell once. He hated it taking so long.

One thing to be thankful for though; because of the cooler evenings, everyone had their jackets on. At least the thick, long sleeves kept their arms from getting all scratched up.

After two full turns of pulling the cart, and still well before false dawn, the green ‘Welcome to Red River County’ sign came into view. The Gateway to Texas, it claimed. Then right behind that semi-small fancy one, a bigger, hand-painted one stood high for all to see.