Push Back: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (The Disruption Series Book 2) (38 page)

“Well, that’s something, anyway,” Howell said. “We may be able to bring in our folks without drawing undue attention.”

“Bring ’em in where?” Earl Gillespie asked.

“To the ship, Pop,” Jimmy said. “
Pecos Trader
is anchored in the river down near the reserve fleet. We came ashore to get everybody and take them to the ship. We got plenty of food and water—”

“You mean you’re not staying here? You can’t leave, Jimmy! You just got home,” his wife said.

Jimmy turned to his wife. “I’m not going back by myself. I want y’all to come with us—”

“This is my home. Our home,” Earl Gillespie said. “It might not look like much to some folks, but I’ll be damned if I let a bunch of convict trash run me off. Besides, we’re way off the radar here, and I’m thinkin’ a ship in the river’s gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

Howell nodded. “You’re right, Mr. Gillespie. Earl. In fact, we’ve already had some run-ins with the convicts, so we’re very much on their radar, and coming with us might be more dangerous in the short run. But even if you stay here, you can’t be invisible forever. And when the cons get strong enough, I think you can expect a visit.”

Earl Gillespie shook his head. “I can’t say I like livin’ like a scared rabbit in a hole, but this is pretty sudden. We need to think on it.”

The rest of the family all started talking at once, and Howell raised her hands. “I know it’s a big decision, folks, and I’m sorry I can’t give you more time, but we’re burning daylight and I need a decision one way or another. However, we will give y’all some privacy. We’ll wait in one of the cars while you folks talk it out.”

Earl shook his head. “It’ll be hot in the car. Y’all wait out here in the shade and we’ll go in the house to talk.”

There were murmurs and nods of agreement, and the family followed their parents up across the deck and to the back door of the house, Jimmy in the rear. He gave Howell an apologetic shrug.

“Ten minutes, Jimmy. No more,” she whispered.

***

At twenty minutes, Howell glanced at her watch and was about to start across the deck just as the back door opened and Earl emerged, followed by the rest of his clan. He approached slowly, a solemn look on his face. She prepared herself for bad news.

Then he grinned. “So tell me, y’all got anything to eat on this ship besides noodles and assholes?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Beaumont Yacht Club

560 Marina Street

Beaumont, Texas

Day 29, 4:35 p.m.

Howell bit back a curse as a small boy ran past her down the enclosed dock, squealing as he was chased by a second. She grabbed the second kid’s arm and pulled him up short.

“Get back to your boat, NOW!” she hissed, and the boy’s eyes went wide in his dark face, and his lip started trembling.

Howell immediately regretted her action and softened her tone. “I know it’s tough,” she said, “but there are very bad people close by, and if they hear you, they might find us. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded solemnly and glanced over at his brother, subdued since Howell had captured his sibling.

“I didn’t mean to be loud, ma’am. Me and Clarence was just playing chase, that’s all,” the boy said.

“I know you didn’t,” Howell said, “but you have to be real quiet, and you have to tell your friends, okay?”

“Yes’m,” the boy said and motioned his brother to follow and turned down the dock. They were running again inside of ten steps, but no longer screaming.
That’s something, at least
, thought Howell.

“Not exactly a low-profile operation,” said Alvarez. “I didn’t figure on so many.”

Howell shook her head. “Neither did I. I guess success has its downside. How many so far?”

“Over fifty, with more sure to come,” Alvarez said. “Way too many to keep under wraps for long, especially if the cons have men stationed up at the foot of the bridge.”

“Did you get ’em all fed?”

“Jones and I passed out food,” Alvarez said. “Since it looks like we’re headed back tomorrow anyway, I gave ’em all they wanted. Some of ’em were near starving.”

Howell nodded absently. “Good.”

“What’s the problem, ma’am?” Alvarez asked.

“Just wondering how pissed the captain’s going to be at the number of new mouths to feed,” she said.

Alvarez grinned. “Well look at the bright side. If we need help getting out of here, we have a lot more shooters. Everyone that’s come in so far has been well armed.”

Howell laughed. “God bless Texas.”

Alvarez chuckled as well and Howell turned her attention back to the line of rapidly filling boats.

After convincing the Gillespies to join them, she’d been faced with a decision. All three of the Gillespie men volunteered to help, and Jimmy argued persuasively that with the extra vehicles and manpower, it made more sense for Howell and the Coasties to go back to the yacht club to protect the families and get them settled in as they arrived. Unable to fault the logic, Howell had reluctantly conceded the point.

They were three for five so far, with Jimmy and Pete having safely collected their own families and one other. More than ‘families’ actually, as groups of survivors generally included extended family, friends, and neighbors grouped together for protection. Thus a significant portion of the people she’d collected had no connection to the ship, and she was worried about Hughes’ reaction.

Of the missing families, one was gone without a trace, their home abandoned. The second were apparent victims of the cons ‘ethnic cleansing,’ and the weeks-old crime scene was beyond grisly. Jimmy could only describe it in general terms as ‘horrible,’ and Pete wouldn’t speak of it at all, shaking his head with jaw clenched and rage in his eyes. Given the condition of the remains and their lack of tools, burying multiple bodies was impossible. After an impromptu prayer in the front yard, the late arriving ‘rescue party’ burned the house to the ground; a crematorium of sorts and the best they could do for a shipmate’s family.

Howell shook her head to clear the tragic image from her imagination and turned at the sound of tires on gravel outside.

“I hope they got the other families all right,” she said.

Alvarez nodded as the door to the enclosure swung open and Jimmy and one of his brothers ushered in a group of new arrivals.

“Where you want them, ma’am?” Jimmy asked.

“Wherever they can find room on one of the boats, Jimmy. They’re all pretty full.” She looked toward the door. “Any more?”

Jimmy shook his head. “No, ma’am. The other house was … we had to burn it.”

Howell felt a lump in her throat. Unable to speak, she nodded, and Jimmy hurried his charges down the dock just as Pete came in.

“I … I’m really sorry, Pete,” she said.

Pete nodded but didn’t speak.

“How’s the gas in Mr. Gillespie’s truck?” she asked.

“About half a tank. Why?” Pete asked.

“Because I have one last job to do.”

Pete nodded. “The chief’s wife?”

“Ex-wife,” Howell corrected.

“We’ll come with you,” Pete said.

Howell nodded, and Pete walked down the dock to where the new arrivals were wrangling with the occupants of the largest cabin cruiser while Jimmy tried to keep things under control. Howell ignored the altercation, happy to let Jimmy and Pete handle it.

“How you want to do this?” Alvarez asked.

“I’ll take you, Pete, and Jimmy,” she said. “We’ll leave Jones in charge, with the Gillespies to help. They all seem pretty capable, Earl in particular. Let’s put them to trying to organize our getaway while we’re gone. If they can keep these folks undercover and busy, the less chance they’ll do something stupid to call attention to themselves.”

“Works for me,” Alvarez said. “You think there’s enough daylight to get to this woman’s house and back?”

Howell nodded. “She lives in town, and if she’s not there, we just come straight back. Trust me, I’m not gonna waste time on this bitch.”

***

They made good time, using a technique Jimmy and Pete perfected during earlier forays, avoiding main streets to parallel them in residential areas. When they couldn’t avoid a major intersection, Jimmy scouted ahead, silent on the bicycle they carried in the truck bed. A double-click on his radio signaled all clear.

They stayed north of I-10 and crossed under US 96 on Delaware Street, a route scouted earlier. They ducked south off Delaware as soon as possible and made their way westward on secondary streets before Howell stopped a block from their destination. It was an upscale area of large homes set on larger lots, with privacy fences hiding backyard swimming pools.

“According to Dan, it’s the next left,” Howell said. “1616 Windsor Court at the end of the cul-de-sac.”

“This Trixie’s done all right for herself,” Jimmy said, looking around. “These are some nice little shacks.”

Howell grimaced. “Dan paid for it. He signed it over as part of the divorce settlement. According to Captain Hughes, he didn’t even fight it. He said it meant nothing to him if he had to live in it alone.” She shook her head. “Even after he caught her …” Howell trailed off. There were few secrets on a ship, and the whole crew knew of the well-liked but socially awkward chief engineer’s short-lived marriage, at least in a general way. But as angry as she was at her friend’s situation, discussing a fellow officer’s private life with crewmen was straying out of bounds.

Jimmy nodded. “It’s strange how a man can be so smart about everything else and so dumb about women. I reckon the chief was just thinking with the wrong head.”

She ignored the remark. “Take the bike and check it out. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises.”

Jimmy nodded, unloaded the bike, and pedaled away.

Howell waited tensely for the double-click, impatient to complete an unpleasant task and secretly hoping they’d find another vacant house. She was fairly sure ‘rescuing’ Trixie was a mistake, but she’d promised to make the effort, and a promise was a promise.

Ahead, Jimmy rounded the corner at full speed and skidded to a stop beside her open window.

“There … there’s a police cruiser,” he said, breathless.

“Where?” she asked.

“In the friggin’ driveway.”

They all got out of the truck.

“We obviously can’t just roll in beside them,” Alvarez said. “Let’s check it out on foot.”

Howell nodded, looking around. She spotted a long driveway across the street, which turned to disappear behind a large home.

“We need someplace to stash the truck. Alvarez, you and Pete check out that house. Give me two clicks on the radio if it’s vacant.”

Alvarez took the radio from Jimmy and the men took off as Jimmy threw his bike into the truck bed. Minutes later, she heard the all clear and pulled into the driveway to hide the truck behind the house.

They moved down the cul-de-sac cautiously, to positions overlooking Trixie’s driveway; Alvarez and Jimmy on one side behind a parked car, with Howell and Pete opposite, hidden behind a hedge.

Howell shook her head. “We need to figure out what’s going on here. I don’t want to go in blind.”

She’d hardly finished speaking when the front door opened and two uniformed men came out, trailed by a blonde with an obviously enhanced anatomy, wearing sandals and a see-through negligée. The woman had her arm around the shoulders of a similarly clad girl of perhaps fifteen. The girl’s body language telegraphed fear and shame.

Howell swallowed her rage. Trixie. She had no use for the bitch, but she’d thought her better than this.

“She’s just learning,” Trixie said. “She’ll be better next time.”

“She better be,” one of the cons said, “and a helluva lot more enthusiastic. You got a good setup, Trixie, and if you expect to keep eatin’, you best make sure these little bitches get trained up right.”

Trixie laughed and fondled the con’s crotch. “Don’t worry about that, big boy. Besides, I made up for it by taking care of you both, didn’t I? Was I enthusiastic enough?” She draped herself over the con and stuck her tongue in his ear, then jumped back playfully as he grabbed at her.

Pete whispered, “Murderin’ bastards.”

“Yeah, and obviously Trixie doesn’t need rescuing,” Howell whispered back, still watching the driveway. “We’ll wait until they go and then get the hell out of—”

BLAM!

Blood and brains splashed Trixie as the con beside her dropped like a rock, and Trixie started screaming. The second con stumbled back toward the patrol car, looking in all directions and clawing at his holster.

Howell whirled to see Pete standing, his dark face a mask of hatred, the M4 at his shoulder.

“DAMN IT, PETE!”

BLAM! BLAM!

The second deputy dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

Howell cursed and rounded the end of the hedge, running toward the screaming woman. “Trixie! Shut the hell up!”

Trixie stopped, confused. “Who the hell are—”

The other three were in the driveway now, and Howell pointed to the dead cons.

“Drag them into the garage and pull the car in after them,” Howell said, glaring at Pete. “We’re gonna be real lucky if those shots don’t draw a crowd.”

“You ain’t seen what we seen, Mate,” Pete said. “All these sons of bitches need killing.”

Beside Pete, Jimmy nodded agreement.

“Sure they do,” Howell said. “But we still have to get the families back to—”

“Hey! You’re that bitch from Danny’s ship,” Trixie said. “You’re going to be sorry you ever—”

Howell turned. “Get inside. You got some explaining to do.”

“I don’t have to explain a thing to—”

Howell backhanded her, and Trixie stumbled back, catching her sandal on the edge of the sidewalk to sprawl on the overgrown lawn.

“That was my backhand,” Howell said. “If you’d like to feel my rifle butt, keep it up. Now get inside.”

Trixie scrambled up and fled into the house. Howell looked at the frightened girl and motioned her after Trixie with a nod.

Trixie tried a different tack in the living room. “I’m gonna tell Danny how you treated me. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh, bitch.”