Fourteen
Asia
It struck me that this position was familiar now—me standing behind Jack, on alert, waiting for God only knew what, telling myself I was ready for it.
Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, but I put on a brave front and clenched my fists as Jack moved quickly up the stairs.
These were also familiar to me.
Officially, I was Judge Hanlon’s clerk, but unofficially, I was responsible for all manner of tasks, which included maintaining his stockpile. So I had run of his house .
In truth, it was kind of bullshit and the type of thing that shouldn’t have been tolerated. But Judge Hanlon had taught me invaluable lessons about the practice, how to communicate with juries, how to manage prosecutors and the police. So while he’d taken his liberties, he repaid them tenfold.
Plus, I now knew his house like the back of my hand.
The garage stairs led up to the main floor with the kitchen, study, dining and living areas, and a guest bed and bathroom. The second floor had three bedroom-bathroom combinations, and the third floor was technically the attic but it contained Judge Hanlon’s stockpile.
We covered the first two floors quickly.
Nothing was out of place.
Judge Hanlon had even loaded and run the dishwasher, something he was notoriously bad at.
“There’s a generator here?” Jack asked as we ascended to the third floor.
“Yes. There’s a utility room in the garage,” I said. “And watch your head. The ceiling is low up here. ”
“Thanks,” Jack said, but he was clearly focused on the surroundings.
The attic was an open space with no windows, and while neatly organized, almost every inch was filled with supplies.
“Big place and a lot of supplies for one person,” Jack said as he scanned the room.
“He has two sons, one in Florida, one in South Carolina.” I wasn’t sure why I added that totally irrelevant detail, but after a moment, I continued. “He always bought enough for them and their families.”
Jack nodded. “Any girlfriends? People who might know about this stockpile?”
I considered for a moment and then shook my head. “No. He was social, but rarely had people over. He also kept his stockpile quiet. Other than his old clerks and maybe a few delivery or maintenance people, I doubt anyone knows about it.”
“Huh.” Jack grunted.
“What?” I asked.
“Well, the house is probably a target either way, but I’m really worried about wildcards. If you had this idea, someone else will, too,” he said .
I huffed out a laugh. “You doubt my singular brilliance?”
“I’d never.” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flashed with amusement.
“Good save,” I said. “It’s possible. But all things considered, I still think this is the best move.”
“I agree,” he said, “but I need to keep my eyes open.”
“You’re not alone, Jackson,” I said.
I wasn’t sure what compelled me to say that, but it felt right. Plus, I relied on Jack so much, I wanted to return that favor, not that I was sure I could.
“Yeah,” he said.
Not the most reassuring words I’d ever heard, but I continued. “The house has some features that should help,” I said.
“Like what?” Jack asked.
“Well, Judge Hanlon said he installed shades that blocked light from showing outside, especially at night. I also know he added certain reinforcements during construction to make the house more durable and fire resistant,” I said .
“He showed you how to work all of that?” he asked.
I laughed. “I mean…I know where the controls are, but I kind of glazed over the details.”
“Not an area of interest for you, huh?”
“Regretfully, no,” I said, smiling.
“Seems like he prepared for everything,” Jack said.
“But…” I asked, hearing something in his voice as he looked around.
“Why did he keep his supplies in the attic?”
I smiled again, remembering that fight well. “Trust me, he didn’t want to. One of my first projects as his clerk was to research land use for the neighborhood. He wanted to dig in a bunker, but the city prohibited it.”
“I’m surprised that a judge would actually follow the law,” Jack said.
“Very funny. But it wasn’t the law that actually held him back. It was the water table. He hired and fired seven engineers before he finally accepted the fact that even the most brilliant design couldn’t elude Mother Nature. So this attic was his consolation prize,” I said .
I stood in one corner and watched as Jack walked through the neatly organized rows, his posture bent to accommodate the low roof. Even though it had been a few years since I had been up here, I still knew the area well.
Food was back left.
Back right was common household items.
Weapons were right up front.
“Not bad. Not bad,” Jack said.
He went to the weapons first and pulled out two handguns and one rifle.
“You know how to shoot?” he asked.
I grimaced. “I’ve shot a gun a couple of times, but I’m by no means an expert. My uncle tried?—”
I cut off when he handed me a gun. “There’s nothing like on-the-job training. Keep it with you at all times. Be prepared to use it. And don’t hesitate.”
I didn’t want it, but I took it.
Common sense said having it should have made me feel better, but it didn’t.
I wasn’t naive or Pollyanna-ish about guns. I knew that they could be essential, but I saw the damage they did every day.
Knew what they had taken from me .
To have one now, to know that my life would depend on using it only underscored the horror of the situation.
Still, I took the gun, checking the safety, and then tucked it in my waistband.
He studied me for a moment. “Gun in the waistband?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Because that’s TV shit. Only assholes and fakes do that in real life. But you do know your way around them, I suppose,” Jack said.
He sounded almost impressed.
“What, you think I wouldn’t?” I said.
“Yeah. I know your type—liberal do-gooder. Crayons, not guns, or some shit like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. But you strike me as a man who’s seen enough to know that the world is nuanced. So yes, crayons, not guns—unless the dead come back to life,” I said.
Jack paused, then looked at me.
“Is that what’s happening?”
I tilted my head, kept my eyes focused on him .
“Are you condescending me, or is that a serious question?”
“You’ll know if I’m condescending you, Counselor,” he said.
I stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “What else could it be?”
All that I’d seen flashed through my mind.
The courthouse.
The walk here.
That cop crushed under his car but still moving.
There was no other conclusion.
“You saw what I did. Like that woman on the monitors with her intestines hanging out. Jorge with his chest covered with blood but still trying to get me. That cop on the walk over.”
“Yeah, I saw it. And it’s true. A bonafide zombie apocalypse.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of my throat.
High-pitched, hysterical.
Jackson’s expression was the same nonplussed semi-scowl I’d come to expect from him.
It made me laugh harder.
He just waited until I finally sobered. “I wish I could pretend this wasn’t happening. But I don’t have the luxury of pretending.”
“No, you don’t,” he finally said.
“So we agree the impossible is happening. Where does that leave us?” I asked.
“We can’t change it. We can’t control it. All we can do is be prepared and react. This is a good first step,” he said, returning his attention to the judge’s stockpile.
Our stockpile now, I supposed.
He went through the weapons more meticulously this time, and after a moment, I joined him.
It was good being close to him again. Pathetic to admit, but true nonetheless.
I crouched down and grabbed a clear plastic clipboard off the bottom shelf. “Right where I left it.” I smiled, unreasonably excited by the discovery.
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“The judge’s inventory. He checks it every quarter, rotates stock, and resupplies.” I looked down at the paper. “See? He signed and dated it last month. So this should be a fairly accurate representation of what he has.”
Jack took the paper from me, and I watched as he studied the list and compared it to the weaponry on the shelves—taking a quick glance at the other supplies.
“This might work,” he whispered.
“What might work?” I asked.
He looked up quickly, and for a moment, he seemed surprised that he spoke out loud.
“Just taking stock,” he said before looking back at the list.
This was new.
Jack was being evasive, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. He also tried to shut me down, no doubt his attempt to avoid talking about something he clearly didn’t want to.
As was my nature, I wanted to push back against his dismissal, but something—maybe it was fear—held my tongue in place.
I couldn’t expect anything from him, but I needed him.
Wanted him to stay.
I wouldn’t ask it of him, but I wouldn’t push him, either.
That didn’t sit well with me. I abhorred being vulnerable. Hated relying on anyone. To need him, a complete stranger. And not just need him but to acknowledge that quite literally my life was in his hands.
Yeah, no.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so interested in this conversation anymore.
I drifted toward the household items, ostensibly to catalogue them, but honestly more interested in putting distance between us. As I studied that list, I had a thought.
“Hey, I just remembered something,” I said.
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“When we go back downstairs.”
He nodded, then finished his survey of the weapons, the food, and then the other items.
About thirty minutes later, we went back down to the second floor.
During his inventory, we talked about it and decided that we would stay on the garage level. There was a bedroom and bathroom down there, and not as many windows.
On our way down, I stopped.
“Almost forgot this,” I said, moving to the console that held the judge’s TV.
“What is it?” Jack asked .
I pulled out a small radio. “Weather radio. He has them stashed all over.”
Jack took the radio out of my hands and flipped it on.
This is not a test…
Those fucking words I hated more than anything.
I looked at Jack, desperate to see something like hope in his face.
I saw nothing.
I looked back at the radio, listening.
Repeat. Shelter in place. Martial law is in effect.
Deadly force authorized against noncompliant civilians ? —
Static swallowed the rest.
Jack snapped the radio off.
I risked looking at him again.
Still saw nothing.
The silence was thick, intense, and I almost wished for something to break it.
A wish I regretted when I heard gunshots off in the distance.
“Guess that’s not a coincidence,” Jack said.
“You think the military is shooting people? ”
It seemed too horrible to contemplate, but what other choice did I have.
“If money were worth anything, I’d bet my life savings on it.” Jack’s gaze was on mine, stoic.
Unwavering.
Undeniable.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Jack was kind enough to give me an almost smile.
“Expected. And necessary if there’s a shot they’ll get control of this shit,” he said.
I didn’t dare ask if he thought that was a possibility. He’d tell me the truth, and I couldn’t handle that now.
Instead I looked around the judge’s familiar living room.
“So we’ll make the best of it?” I finally said.
Jack nodded. “That’s our only choice.”