Dead Highways: Origins (8 page)

After Olivia finished off the bottle of formula, we left the parking lot of the Cancer Care Center and headed back toward the bookstore. First, we’d stop by Naima’s house and make sure she got back okay. I said nothing about it to Peaches, but a part of me was afraid we’d left Naima behind at the hospital. We had agreed to meet back in the waiting room in thirty minutes. But she didn’t have a watch, so I had told her to make an educated guess. What if she had a horrible sense of time? What if she had showed up after Peaches and I went back up to the sixth floor, and then went off looking for us? I felt guilty for not waiting longer, but at the same time, Olivia needed immediate attention. Naima was a grown woman, plenty capable of taking care of herself, right?

Right?

I wanted to think positively. I wished I’d had Tony Robbins there to cheer me on. But I feared the worst. I feared we wouldn’t see Aamod’s car in the driveway. I feared that instead of finding her parents awake she’d found them both asleep. What if
that
was the reason she never met back up with us? What if she was so stricken with grief she completely lost it, and in this vulnerable state of mind, we’d just left her there? What a couple of assholes we’d be.

Negativity for the win!

Since we didn’t have a car seat, Peaches held the baby tight against her chest. In no time, Olivia was fast asleep. I figured the motion of the car had done the trick—at least I’d hoped it was the motion of the car. Yeah, I know it’s dangerous having someone hold a baby in the front seat. But I wasn’t too worried about getting into an accident, being one of only a few cars still moving on the road, that and my top speed rarely broke twenty-five miles per hour. I was even less worried about getting a ticket, seeing as how I’d passed numerous police cars and none of the occupants were in any shape to write tickets. So far that might have been the best thing about this crappy new world.

No.

More.

Bullshit.

Laws.

It might also turn out to be the worst thing.

When we got to Naima’s house, I parked behind Aamod’s silver Toyota in the driveway and let out a big sigh of relief. She’d found them. Thank God. We weren’t assholes after all.

“And here I’d expected the worst,” I said, glancing over at Peaches. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking down, watching Olivia as she slept.

“She’s so adorable, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “But what are we going to do with her?”

“We’ll take care of her for as long as we can. She deserves as much life as she can get.” She now looked over at me. “Don’t you think?”

“I do,” I replied. “Just not always rationally.” She smiled and turned her attention back to Olivia. “Well, why don’t we get the heck out of here.” I put the car in reverse and began to back out of the driveway.

I was about ten seconds too slow.

The front door opened, and Aamod stepped out. Stared at us. I stopped backing up and stared back. He had an even more intense look in his eyes than normal. He was wearing his work clothes with his name embroidered on the shirt. I’d never seen him wear anything else.

“What’s
this
about?” Peaches asked.

“He probably heard us pull up.”

Aamod began to walk over. I shut off the car and got out.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I just came to make sure Naima got back okay.”

He crossed his arms. “Excuse me? I don’t follow. Got back from
where
?”

“From the hospital. Naima didn’t tell you about us?”

“Naima is not here. I haven’t seen her since early this morning.”

Holy motherfucking shit!

I sighed and bowed my head.

“Would you please explain yourself? Starting with how you know my daughter?”

“You don’t recognize me?”

“Not really.”

“I come into your store all the time. My name is Jimmy.”

“A lot of people come into my store. I can’t remember them all.”

“I come in almost every day.”

He studied my face for a moment. “The hot dog boy.”

“That’s me.”

“Yes. Now I remember you.”

Peaches finally came out of the car. “Is something wrong?”

“She’s not here,” I said.

“Oh no. Then she must still be back at the hospital.”

“My daughter, Naima? Why would she be at the hospital?”

“Because we went there to look for you. You see, I went to your store this morning and found her there by herself.”

“Yes. I left her there.”

“But you didn’t return.”

“I did.”

“Not soon enough. She got scared something had happened to you, so I agreed to give her a ride over here.”

“Then when we got here nobody was home,” Peaches said.

“I just came from the store.”

“We must have passed each other somewhere along the way.”

“I admit I may have taken longer to get back than I intended,” Aamod said. “Her mother, my wife, she is . . . well, she’s become infected, and I didn’t know how to break it to Naima.”

“I understand,” I said. “I considered taking my grandma to the hospital.”

Aamod frowned. “I did not take my wife to the hospital.”

“You didn’t?” Peaches asked.

“No,” Aamod said, shaking his head. “So why would you take Naima there looking for me?”

I met eyes with Peaches, wondering if she had the same sinking feeling as me.

“Jerry, your neighbor, said he’d spoke with you,” Peaches said. “He said you told him to tell Naima that you took her mom to the hospital if he saw her.”

A frightening look bloomed on Aamod’s face. It was like an atomic bomb had gone off. “What? Are you kidding?”

“So you didn’t . . .” I began, then stopped and joined the two of them in looking across the street at Jerry’s house. The car that had been under the carport earlier was no longer there.

“I haven’t spoken to Jerry in weeks.”

Holy motherfucking shit!

“That fucking bitch,” Peaches said. Good thing Olivia wasn’t old enough, or awake enough, to understand curse words. “He lied to us.”

“Peaches,” I said. “A word with you in private.”

“Not so fast. We are not done talking,” Aamod said. “You took Naima to the hospital and just left her there?”

“No, we went in with her to look for you, but then she disappeared. We figured she’d found you and left.”

Aamod began pacing in front of the car.

“Why would Jerry tell us to go to the hospital if he knew you weren’t there?” Peaches asked.

“Jerry worked at the hospital as a janitor,” Aamod said. “I’m sure he knows his way around well.”

“What are you saying?” I asked. “That she’s with
him
?”

Aamod stopped pacing, took a deep breath. “I told you I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. The last time I did was to tell him to stop harassing my daughter.”

“She mentioned that he had asked her out before,” Peaches said.

I nodded. “I think she said a bunch of times. But what difference does that make?”

“You don’t understand,” Aamod said. “Jerry is a convicted sex offender.”

Holy motherfucking shit!

“Oh, my God, really? She didn’t tell us that.”

“She didn’t know. I never told her. His parents took him back in after he got released from prison a few years back.” Aamod stared back across the street at Jerry’s house. He had a dead look in his eyes. “My wife gets infected and he gets to live, where is the justice in that? And now he thinks he’s going to take my daughter from me . . .”

I had no idea how to ease the tension, so I didn’t try. Peaches copied me.

“I will kill him,” Aamod said, and rushed toward Jerry’s house.

Did I get Sally out of the car before following Aamod across the street?

You bet your ass I did.

“Stay here in the car,” I said to Peaches, handing her the keys. “If anyone approaches you, leave immediately. Go back to the bookstore. We don’t want to take any chances with Olivia.”

For once, Peaches didn’t argue with me.

“I feel responsible,” she said.

“How were we to know he was some weirdo?”

“Cause he looked like one.”

“Well, I never judge a book by its cover. This time I guess I should have.”

By the time I got across the street, Aamod had already begun banging on Jerry’s front door.

I ran up behind him—a gun named Sally clenched in my hand. “I don’t think he’s home. His car’s not here.”

Aamod ignored me and hustled around the side of the house. Thick curtains covered all of the windows. It was impossible to see anything inside. I decided not to follow Aamod into the backyard. Instead, I stayed on the side of the house and kept lookout just in case Jerry pulled up in his car. This also allowed me to keep my eyes on my grandma’s Buick and the precious cargo inside.

Moments later, Aamod returned from the backyard.

“If he grabbed her at the hospital,” I said, “then he’s probably still there.”

“Then I’ll go,” he said and walked away.

I rolled up next to him. “You mean we’ll go. All of us.”

“You don’t need to go. You’ve done enough already.”

I don’t think he meant that in the nicest way.

“Look, I’m sorry. There’s no way we could have known. I was just trying to help her out. In case you haven’t noticed, things are a little out of control with the world.”

Aamod turned and grabbed my arm like he wanted to rip it off. “You think I’m blind? Tell me why I should trust you.”

“What are your options . . . rush in there like a maniac? How are you gonna find him all by yourself? And even if you do, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do. Worse, you’re gonna get Naima killed. I consider her a friend now. Please. Let me help you.”

He let go of my arm, looked down at the gun in my hand.

“Is that gun loaded?”

“Of course it is. A wise man once told me an unloaded gun is about as useful as a pecker on a priest. Do you have a gun?”

He shook his head. “Not here. Not at the house. At the store, yes.”

“The shotgun. Naima showed me.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have time to go there and get it. We need to leave now. I’ll drive.”

We loaded into the car, Aamod in the passenger seat, Peaches and Olivia in the back, and then headed in the direction of the hospital.

“How were you going to kill him?” I asked.

“What?”

“Without a gun,” I said. “How would you do it?”

“Oh, with my bare hands,” Aamod said, with the straightest of faces.

Just as I began to wonder how in the heck we were gonna find Jerry at the hospital, I realized we might not have to. About a hundred yards ahead, a car that looked similar to Jerry’s ran a stop sign and passed through the intersection. And it was going about twice the neighborhood speed limit.

“Somebody’s in a hurry,” I said. “That might be him.”

“How many people were in the car?” Peaches asked.

“Hard to tell. Too far away. At least one.”

She smirked. “Well, obviously, genius.”

“It looked like his car,” Aamod said. “He’s probably going back around the opposite way.”

That was enough to make me turn around.

“We can’t risk him seeing us. He sees this car, and he’s gonna run. And this car ain’t exactly high speed chase material.”

I slowed down as we came back upon Aamod’s street. We waited at the stop sign for Jerry to appear at the other end. Moments later, he turned down the block and out of view into his driveway.

I backed up and pulled the Buick up into the grass on the corner lot.

“What are you doing?” Peaches asked.

“We’re leaving the car here. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.” I looked at Aamod. He nodded in agreement. Then back to Peaches. “Same as before. You stay here with Olivia. If anyone comes near you, get the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

She was scared. It showed.

I was going to ask Aamod if he was ready, but he was already out of the car.

How things change.

One moment I’m working at a used bookstore, not a care in the world. My concerns—minimal. What book to read next? What to have for lunch? How many more episodes of
The Walking Dead
until Lori dies? How many more years until I lose my virginity? No worries, though; I’ll figure it out. I have hundreds of books on my to-read list on Goodreads. I’ve got Cuban sandwiches and hot dogs and taquitos filled with all kinds of mysterious ingredients to choose from for lunch. I just
know
Lori’s days are numbered. And that little virginity problem, hell, one of these days a hot girl is gonna walk through the door and ask for a new paranormal romance, and I’m gonna give it to her.

The next moment I wake up and find all of those things circling the drain. The world as I once knew it is gone, over, finished, like Harrison Ford’s career. I’m in a strange place with strange people, making the most unlikely of friends. I have a newborn baby to protect. I’ve got a gun in my hand, and I know how to use it. Or I think I do. I’ve spent countless hours shooting at paper targets, mere outlines of people, trying to improve my aim. I hope it’s good enough, cause if it’s not, I might die, and dying sounds rather displeasing.

How things change.

“What’s the plan?” Aamod asked.

He was walking a few steps in front of me. Understandably, he was in more of a hurry than I was. We were about halfway down the block, halfway to the perp’s—or
perv’s
—house.

“What happened to rushing in and killing him with your bare hands?”

“If I get the chance, believe me, I will do it.”

“Great. Anything to get me out of shooting somebody.”

We stopped at Jerry’s next-door neighbor’s house and hid behind some bushes.

“Give me the gun,” Aamod said.

“How about no. You’re likely to do something stupid and get us both killed.
And
Naima.”

Aamod tried to threaten me with an angry stare, but I wasn’t having any of it. After a moment, he let it go. I think he realized I was the one with the gun, and he needed me more than I needed him.

“What do you suggest then?” he asked.

“I say we split up.” I thought about the last time I’d suggested splitting up. At the hospital. How great that turned out. “There’s two of us and one of him. I say we ambush him. He probably has her in one of the back rooms. I’ll sneak around the side of the house and see if I can locate her, maybe find another way in. You go knock on the front door. That will hopefully draw his attention long enough for me to find her. If he comes to the door, talk to him. Ask him if he’s seen Naima. Be calm. Play dumb. Don’t give him any reason to suspect you’re up to something. Can you do that?”

Aamod said nothing. I could tell he was analyzing the plan in his head. He wasn’t an idiot by any means, just bullheaded sometimes. Finally, he sighed and said, “I guess I can do that.”

“You guess?”

“I will do it.”

“Good.” I switched off the pistol’s safety and pulled back the slide to chamber a round. I had fourteen more ready to go after that, even though I hoped I wouldn’t need the first one. “Ready?”

Aamod nodded.

We left our hiding spot behind the bushes and went off in different directions, Aamod toward the front door, me toward the side of the house. There were two windows on the right side, both still blocked out by curtains. I got in position between the windows with my back against the wall, waiting for Aamod to knock on the front door. I heard no sound coming from either of the rooms. Then I heard a doorbell.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Aamod was one of those people who didn’t understand proper doorbell etiquette. He was impatient, and that made me nervous.

Thirty seconds passed before Jerry came to the door. They began talking. I could hear both of their voices, but I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying.

I lightly tapped on each of the windows with the edge of my fingernail and whispered, “Naima, are you in there?”

If she was, she had no way of responding to me, and there was no time to wait around. Aamod still had Jerry successfully engaged, so I lightly sneaked into the backyard.

Jerry’s backyard looked as though it hadn’t been tended to in quite a while. There were weeds up to my knees. Scattered anthills. Piled up garbage bags with rat holes in them. Moldy patio furniture. On the far side was a rusty old shed, probably where they stored the lawn equipment they never used. Might also be a good place to store the latest victim. With most of the world asleep, who would hear her scream?

I stayed close to the house, being as quiet as I possibly could. I could no longer hear Aamod and Jerry talking, but as I made it up to the sliding glass door, I could
see
them talking. No curtains blocking the view here. I saw straight through the living room and down a short entry hall to the front door. Not surprisingly, Jerry hadn’t invited Aamod into the house for tea and crackers. But his body language told me he wasn’t at all concerned about Aamod showing up at his door either.

That’s odd,
I thought.

Once Aamod mentioned Jerry was a registered sex offender, I was certain he had kidnapped Naima. Aamod was certain. Peaches was certain. Jerry worked at the hospital. He knew his way around, most likely had keys to back doors and other service entrances. And for no discernible reason he had lied to us. All strikes against Jerry. Yet, for the first time, I considered the possibility he might not have done it. Maybe we misjudged him. Maybe Jerry was as harmless as the garter snakes that sifted through the tall weeds in his yard. I’ve heard you can be listed as a sex offender for masturbating in public. What if that was all he did—a little alone time with himself on a park bench? What if Aamod was wrong about him being in prison? Aamod certainly never gave me the benefit of the doubt. I don’t know how many times he’d followed me around his store like I was gonna steal something. Was it possible his daughter was still at the hospital trying to look for a way back? I wasn’t going to put holes in someone unless I knew for sure, definitely not in a man’s back.

I continued peering through the glass, examining the living room. There was no sign of Naima or anyone else hiding under all the dirty laundry. I started to wonder if it would have been smarter to have gone to the front door with Aamod. I could have stuck the gun in Jerry’s face while Aamod searched the house. It was easy to second-guess the plan now that it was in motion.

I went to the shed on the other side of the yard. There was a lock on the doors as big as my fist. But like with the windows, if Naima was in there she had no way to alert me, not even by stomping her feet.

Then I heard shouting.

I ran back up to the sliding glass door. Aamod was attempting to force his way through the front door, while Jerry was trying to close it. Aamod eventually won the struggle, but as the door fell open, Jerry landed a clean right hand to the side of Aamod’s head, dropping him. Then Jerry proceeded to kick and stomp him from above.

So much for Jerry being harmless.

I threw open the sliding glass door, amazed it wasn’t locked. Jerry heard me and fled out of sight around a corner, while Aamod lay on his back in the entryway, barely moving. Suddenly, everything got deathly quiet.

I gradually moved through the living room, making extra sure there wasn’t a second pervert hiding behind the couch. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the interior looked worse than the exterior. In fact, it was filthy. There was trash everywhere. Empty cans of beer and soda. Open bags of potato chips. Paper plates with food stuck to them. All manner of dirty dishes. It was a cockroach’s paradise. But the worst part was the smell. It was like someone had stuffed a dead rat into a dirty sock, let it heat up in the dryer for an hour, and then hung it under the ceiling fan as an air freshener.

I made it down the front entranceway to Aamod. He was trying to roll over on his side, groaning the whole way. Before leaning down to help him, I checked around the corner where Jerry had disappeared. The room was a small dining room that led into an equally small kitchen. Jerry was in neither.

“Are you okay?”

The left side of Aamod’s head looked a little swollen, but nothing that a little rest wouldn’t heal. He seemed to be more concerned with his ribs, where Jerry had kicked a series of field goals.

“I am fine.”

“What the hell happened?”

From somewhere beyond the kitchen came a scream.

Help!

It was a female voice; one Aamod instantly recognized. He tried to get up, but I pushed him back down.

“Stop,” he growled.

“I’ll go check. You stay here.”

“No. She is my daughter,” he said. “Give me the damn gun. I will take care of him.”

“You had your chance,” I said, standing back up. “Now it’s my turn.”

I left Aamod in the entryway and hustled through the dining room and kitchen. The kitchen led into a narrow hallway with three doors, all on the left side.

The first room was an old couple’s bedroom. I could tell because of all the fake potted plants, wicker baskets, matching plaid bedspread and drapes, pictures of family and friends proudly displayed on every inch of wood and wall, and of course, the two old people lying in the bed facing the ceiling, resting their eyes. Jerry’s parents. His mom’s wheelchair was in the corner. She’d never have to sit in it again. This was where she would die, in bed, next to her husband. Just where her son had posed them.

The second door led to a bathroom. Nothing special. Toilet. Bathtub. Towels on the tile floor. A dozen empty toilet paper rolls nestled amongst them. The usual.

Naima screamed for help a second time, pulling me from the bathroom onward to door number three. Jerry also made his presence known. I could hear him tell her to shut up or he’d slit her throat. He tried to say it quietly, but it carried out into the hall.

I stopped outside the last door and took a deep breath. I checked to make sure Sally was ready to fire. Round in the chamber. Safety off. My hands were shaking more than Shakira’s hips.

While it may not sound like good news, the fact that Jerry threatened to slit her throat instead of shoot her was good for me. Jerry may have come to a gun fight armed with a knife. One more deep breath, then it was time to find out.

I turned the knob and shoved open the bedroom door.

Jerry stood behind Naima on the opposite side of the room, clutching her with his right arm, using her as a shield. He had tied her arms and legs with some kind of twine. In his left hand was a knife. He held it up to her face, his hand shaking more than mine.

I pointed the gun at him, wondering if I had the skill to pull off the same shot as Liam Neeson in
Taken.
Fuck it, who am I kidding? I knew I didn’t. I’d have to wrestle him away with words.

“Jerry . . . why are you doing this?”

“Put the gun down, or I’ll cut her face off,” he shouted. “I swear I will.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Naima said.

“Shut up,” Jerry said, pulling her tighter.

“I’ll put down the gun when you put down the knife.”

“No way.”

“I just want to talk. No reason anybody has to get hurt.”

“You’ve got five seconds to put down the gun. I’m serious.”

“How do you think this is going to end, Jerry?”

“The way I want it to end,” he replied, pressing the blade against her cheek. “Now put down the gun. Five. Four. Three. Two . . .”

“Fine, you win,” I said, surrendering my hands. “I’m putting down the gun.”

“No,” Aamod yelled, interrupting us. He had come up behind me in the doorway, hunched over holding his side. “Give me the gun.”

“Daddy,” Naima said. “You’re alive. I thought you were—”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up,” Jerry snarled.

Aamod snarled back. “Let go of my daughter.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands,” Jerry said.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nobody needs to die,” I said. I slowly stood back up but kept the gun lowered. “We can settle this peacefully. Somehow.”

Aamod shook his head. “There will be peace when he’s dead.”

“You always have to be in the way,” Jerry said. “You couldn’t let Naima make her own decisions.”

“Is that what you’re doing right now Jerry?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Give me the gun,” Aamod said again.

“No, you could accidently shoot her.”

“Better listen to him, old man,” Jerry said.

Aamod looked at me and said, “I’m not going to shoot her. And I’m not going to shoot him.” Then he looked back at Jerry hiding behind Naima. “I’m going to shoot his parents.”

“What?” I said, shocked Aamod had gone to such a dark place, though I couldn’t really blame him. He had just learned this morning his wife was infected, and now a maniac was holding his daughter hostage, threatening her life. He would sacrifice anything and everything to save her, even if it meant throwing his morals into the abyss.