Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 3): Liberation by Philip A. McClimon Page B

guards and knee pads.
    Beverly looked at him, confused.
    “Where are you going?” she asked.
    Jacob did not look over at her. He grabbed his Ruger Mark I and screwed on the suppressor. Laying it on the tailgate, he retrieved four magazines and began to stuff them into the pockets of his leather jacket. Satisfied, he grabbed a full face black motorcycle helmet and put it on. Jacob leaned in and grabbed two final items, a bottle, and a coil of rope with wooden handles affixed to either end. This he put his arm through and hung off his shoulder. The label on the bottle read Deer Urine Spray. He applied it liberally over all his clothes. Without saying a word, he tossed the bottle in the back of the Jeep. He went to the driver’s side and leaned in, pulling the keys from the ignition.
    Sensing something was happening, Tommy stopped crying and looked up at Jacob as he approached. Beverly and Tommy both fixed their eyes upon him as he stood there, holding out the keys to the Cherokee. Their noses crinkled as the foul smell of the Deer Urine scent hit them.
    “If I don’t come back…” he said.
    Beverly reached up and took the keys from Jacob. Before she could say a word, Jacob flipped the dark face shield of the helmet down, turned and started down the tracks toward Centerville.
     
     

 
    Fifteen
     
    …Just Go!
     
    …You’ve got the keys! Drive!
     
    …You’ve got to do what you have to, Tommy will understand!
     
    But one look at her son and she knew in an instant that he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t understand and he wouldn’t get over it. There was even a chance that he wouldn’t forgive her.
    As if reading her mind, Tommy mouthed the words, “No, Mom…”
    Beverly released her white knuckle grip on the keys, the tension in her body relaxed.
     
    Jacob walked, shadowing the horde as it moved through the center of town. This was not his kind of work. It wasn’t practical, wasn’t efficient.
    It wasn’t safe.
    From his vantage points above the horde, he could see them, through the scope, differentiate the mass from those he felt a debt. He knew he had to get ahead of them, but going around them wasn’t the way to do it. It would take too long. The deer urine would mask his scent, make him appear as something besides a meal, but it didn’t mean he could stroll along with them like it was a Thanksgiving Day parade. He knew Tommy’s Dad was in the rear and he hoped that in the bottle neck that was the town, he had remained so. Still, he wouldn’t know until he was practically among them.
     
    Jacob crouched behind a Dumpster in the back of B ubba’s Big Chicken Diner . The deer urine mixed with the smell of garbage and he felt confident that, for the moment, he was undetectable. Once inside the town limits and with the rear of the horde in sight, he had cut down a side street looking for a place to watch them. He glanced down the alley. Through the gap between the walls of two buildings, he watched as the horde shuffled by. Where he was now was not a place to take his target. Once he located it, he could anticipate where his best chance might be. To do that he knew he had to get higher.
    Jacob sprung from behind the Dumpster and crept to an access ladder fastened to the wall across and down from the Dumpster. The horde was close. If they noticed him, and if even just a few funneled down the alley, the rest would sense it. He would be surrounded and cut off. The shuffling and moaning of the horde gave him some cover, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Jacob tucked the Ruger into his jacket and began to climb.
    He moved to the edge of the building and looked over at the horde below.
     
    Red shirt… Cargo pants…
     
    Jacob let the words echo in his mind as he searched. Finally, as the horde continued to move past, he saw him. Jacob tracked his gait, trying to determine where his path would take him, what building might he stray close to, in what darkened recess could he seize what was once Mark Sanders