The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

Boggs hated cats, but that big one, he hated more than all the others put together. That morning while the monster had stalked the shoreline waiting for the children to get out of the water, Boggs stayed on his tail from a distance, ever mindful to keep out of claw-swiping range. He assumed he wouldn’t have much chance in a nose to nose fight, but he also figured he could outrun the old boy. The cat was plenty fat and very old.

Finally, while his kids ate that swell-smelling brown stuff in those little cans, the cat caught a fat hopper—maybe he was faster than Boggs thought—and found a sunny spot to take a nap. He kept an eye on him until his breathing slowed then eased away.

Upriver from the children, he counted an extra person as they waded through the water toward the north bank. Where had the new female come from? He could follow them with his nose and preferred to stay dry if able. He hated water baths, and for sure hated swimming, not that he liked being dirty any better.

Whatever. A good licking, in his estimation, proved way better than a nasty-smelling soak in that water.

When they neared the far shoreline, he found a little clearing pretty close. “Over here,” he barked. Not that he expected them to understand, not like his master, but the sound of his voice should bring them to where he wanted them.       

“Hey, boy! Look everyone! It’s Boggs.” The big one sloshed toward the shore. Cooper took the new one’s hand and tugged.

“Aria, come meet my dog. His name is Boggs.”

He let the new girl pat his head, but things weren’t right. She had a bad smell. And he couldn’t put his paw exactly on what else, but he felt it in heart.

This new one had changed everything.

Way before he wanted, Jackson stopped for the day. The new girl looked beyond tired, and a nice spot surrounded by cedar elms stood just off the King’s Highway. “We need to gather a lot of dead fall, people.”

McKenzie dropped her pack and slumped to her knees. “Why? I thought you didn’t want a big fire.”

“Tonight, I do. We’ll need enough to keep it going until morning.” He hated her questioning him at every turn. Man, if she wasn’t his sister… He let that thought die. She was, and he loved her. He took off his own pack, retrieved the pistol, and stuck it in his belt. He also hated only having one bullet, but one was better than none. He gathered some twigs and dry grasses and got a fire going.

Aria almost immediately melted down against a tree trunk. Cooper patted her shoulder. “You just rest. I’ll get enough for both of us.”

“Thank you, Coop.”

After thirty minutes or so of gathering, McKenzie dropped a big limb on the wood pile. “Is that enough?”

Jackson shrugged. “Looks like it. We can hope so.”

“You’re still concerned about that big cat, aren’t you?”

“A little; but Al said a good fire should keep it away.”

She nodded toward the far side of the clearing. “How about we put the blanket up over there? I’d really like to change my clothes.” She hugged herself. “I’m still damp.”

“Sure.” Jackson grabbed the blanket and helped her make the cloth wall. “I’ll take the guys out a ways. Whistle when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” She extended her hand toward Aria. “Want to get out of those wet clothes?”

She smiled. “I’ll just have to sit by the fire until I’m dry. I don’t have any others.”

Jackson herded the boys out to the far edge of the King’s Highway and sat down criss-cross-applesauce fashion, like in kindergarten again. Man, those were fun times, learning all that new stuff and getting to play t-ball in the spring. He sighed. Would things ever be normal again?

“Hey, what was that?” Cooper pointed west.

A brown blur followed by a white streak raced toward them. “Boggs is chasing something.”

Al jumped to his feet. “Look at that guy go.”

The Pyrenees closed in then grabbed the neck of a pig. Wait. What was a pig doing out there? Jackson, with the others on his heels, raced toward the dog. Squeals and grunts aplenty sounded before the silence, then nothing; except for Boggs sitting beside the little dead hog wearing that same, arrogant, self-satisfied expression of his.

Man, oh man. He loved that dog. First rabbit, now pork.

After field dressing the shoat—how Al knew what a young pig was called, Jackson would never know—he guessed it weighed around thirty pounds or so. Maybe enough meat for three or four days. “Al.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know anything about smoking pork?”

He looked away, seemingly doing his brain searching thing. Or was he weighing how much hooey he could spread without getting called on it?

“I recollect that it takes an extended time.”

“How extended?”

“Like a week in a smoke house at ninety degrees.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what the guide said.”

“Okay, how do you know?”

Al shrugged. “Simple. You see, my good friend, I possess total recall and spent countless hours on the internet.” His shoulders rose and fell a second time. “My brain retains extensive quantities of information. Consequently, I know lots of stuff.”

Jackson eyed him hard; same thing his father used to do when trying to ferret out the truth. The boy didn’t blink, didn’t seem to be lying, but Jackson couldn’t bring himself to trust his assessment. He just needed to know the kid better to be for sure.

“Well, let’s get this guy back to camp and get him cooking.” He grabbed a back leg. “Al, you help me. Coop, you go make sure your sister is dressed.”

Cooper gave him a mock salute then hurried off.

“Hey, Bubba.”

His brother stopped and turned. “What?”

“Don’t bust in on them. When you get close, whistle.”

Cooper smirked like he didn’t need to be told dumb stuff. Jackson faced Al. “You ready?”

The boy picked up the other end of the shoat, though it seemed to tax him to his limit.

Soon enough, the quartered pig roasted over the fire. The folding spit and stand McKenzie had found among the old man’s stuff cooked one hunk of the porker, and Jackson stuck the other three on sticks and propped them at the edge of the fire. The fantastic aroma caused his mouth to water so much, he might actually drool.

What would his mother think of him feeding the kids a pig he cleaned and gutted himself over an open campfire in the middle of who knew where?

But its smell alone almost made it beyond his ability to withstand. He couldn’t feed them undercooked pork though, that wouldn’t do. While he couldn’t remember the exact disease you could get—Al probably knew if Jackson cared to ask—he totally recalled his mother telling him how important it was to cook pork thoroughly.

No matter how good it smelled, he refused to pull it early and chance getting them all sick.

He found it a bit amusing that McKenzie hadn’t said one negative word about eating the pig Boggs killed for them. She also had totally ignored the dog when he came back with a full belly and pink stains around his muzzle. Maybe the rabbit sandwich he’d saved for her had changed her mind.

Once the sun dipped below the western horizon, Jackson decided to light a second fire. Hopefully, the deadfall pile would last until morning. Then it dawned on him. Someone needed to stand watch and feed the fires to make sure it kept burning through the night. Otherwise, it wouldn’t keep the lion away—if that’s what it was.

“This part looks done to me.” McKenzie turned the spit, leaving the most cooked section of the quarter right side up.

He smiled at his sister and resisted teasing her about her past repulsion over eating what the dog dragged in. “Okay, here.” He handed her his trophy—Bucky’s knife. “Slice off a few thin layers.”

Al took a deep breath, sucking air through his nose. “The bouquet. It’s so enticingly succulent.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “My salivating glands are certainly operational.”

McKenzie did as Jackson told her, without calling him king. Both sides of the meat looked plenty done, and she went to handing out steaming slabs.

For the next few minutes, no one said anything. Cooper finished his piece first. “Can we have more?”

Jackson nodded. “Yes, eat all you want, Bubba. Get full.”

Aria nibbled on her share, studying Jackson. Was he one of the good guys?

She couldn’t be certain; then again, what choice did she have? Whether or not to tell him, that’s what. Should she? Only if she intended on going with them. Should she, or should she stay and try to find Poppy? See if he had survived; but as much as she hated the thought, he was probably dead.

And she definitely did not want to be alone.

Her fever seemed to have gone down some, but that might only be because she’d been wet most of the day. The temperature dropped fast as the sun dove toward the western horizon, painting the sky in beautiful bright pinks and golds. Her side still hurt, but felt better all the time.

Cooper handed her another piece of pork as soon as she took the last bite of her first. The little guy was so cute, but not the one who concerned her.

“Jackson?”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“What caliber is your pistol?”

“A thirty-eight, why?”

“Have you got plenty of ammunition?”

“Not near enough. Again, why do you ask?”

McKenzie cut off another thin slice then rotated the spit. “See? I told you he thinks he’s king.”

She smiled at his sister then at him. “No, I don’t mind you asking at all. I’m just trying to help. I know where there’s some stuff, not too far from here. Probably has a box or two of bullets.”

“Really? What else? What kind of stuff?”

“There’s a fifty-five gallon drum of things my poppy hid away. I’m not sure exactly what all’s in it, but he favored ought-six rifles and thirty-eight revolvers.”

“Yeah? Where is it? How far?”

She hated saying. If it was still there, then all that she had left in the world filled that barrel. But if King Jackson and his little troupe hadn’t come along… She shivered at the thought. “In the golf course maintenance shed. Right behind the eighteenth green.”

“That one off Shady Grove? By those softball fields?”

“Yeah, that’s the one, just on the other side of Loop Twelve.”

He retrieved his backpack and pulled out a map. Soon, he had it spread then pointed to a spot. “I think we’re somewhere about here.”

She eased over to his side and brushed her arm against his shoulder. “There. See where it’s marked?”

“Yes, and you’re right. I’d say it’s maybe two miles or so from here. Not far at all.”

“Looks like that.” She scooted back to her place. The last thing she needed was for the dude to think she was interested. Not that he wasn’t handsome.

He accepted another piece of pork from his sister then turned back to Aria. “So, your dad was one of those prepper guys?”

“Poppy didn’t much like being called that. He preferred survivalist.” She smiled, remembering her father. Time sure proved him right. He’d always told them it would come. “But yes, he thought it very important to be prepared, and he was. If only he’d kept it to himself, but his heart—it was too big.”

She closed her eyes, and the last image she had of him—looking back over her shoulder as she ran away, flashed across her mind’s eye. She winced at the thought of each bullet that tore into his body. Her eyes filled again, and a tear escaped. She swiped at it. “Anyway, he hid stuff all over the place. He took care of the golf course.”

Al pointed at her with his greasy hand. “Greens’ keeper?”

She smiled at the nerd. “Yes, he was. How’d you know?”

“Oh, just a supposition; I endeavored to play the gentlemen’s game a few times, but my efforts fell woefully short of standard play. Kept missing the ball, and when my club finally connected, the pesky little orb never went the correct direction.”

What a weirdo. She gave her best sorry-but-don’t-ever-talk-to-me-again smile then faced Jackson. “So, what do you think?”

“You sure it’s there?”

“No. I mean, I’m sure it was. But … Why wouldn’t it be? He said it was stuck in the back of his shop with all the other diesel drums in front of it, and it looks just like the rest. Except it isn’t. It’s packed full of good stuff. He made a point of telling me about it, right before he insisted that I run.”

She could feel her face flushing, or maybe the fever coming back. She sure hoped not. That would mean more infection.

“Well, I suppose since we’re so close, we can check it out. The ammunition alone would be worth the detour. Then we’ll head on to Meems’ and Pop’s. No more side treks.”

Boy, that guy really did think he was king.

Still, he appeared to be level headed and smart. A good leader.

She for one intended to follow.

Boggs hated the way the new female talked to Jackson, but his Bubba liked her something fierce, so he guessed she would stay. At least the girl didn’t eat much, not like the new boy. That kid gobbled down the pig like plenty of fat porkers rolled over for the catching. Well, indeed a whole sounder ran the bottoms, but they usually stayed together.