Deadlocked 5 by A.R. Wise Read Free Book Online

road to make sure the caravan didn't pass without me seeing it. I had a hotwired car on the other side of the house, and I planned on waiting for the caravan to pass and then following it from a safe distance. I didn't want to risk alerting anyone that I was here by blowing their tires, but I'd rather have that happen then let them pass unnoticed.
    Stubs sniffed at the accordion metal spikes, then lifted his leg and peed on them. I laughed as he stepped away from his puddle and then kicked his back legs at it, scraping his nails on the asphalt as if trying to bury the urine. He was the only dog I'd ever met that tried to kick up dirt to cover his excrement, and seeing his tiny frame attempt such a silly act never ceased to humor me. He looked like a miniature bull preparing to charge.
    "Come on, goof ball."
    I slapped my thigh to signal him to follow and he quickly caught up, his nails clicking on the asphalt until we moved off to the side of the road. I looked back at the dilapidated home where we'd been staying and tried to gauge where the dogs that chased Stubs had first come across. The Juniper tree that had become home to three or four bird's nests was close to where the dogs first appeared, and I moved over to it in search of tracks.
    The Juniper's blue berries littered the ground, shaken free by the multitude of birds that lived there. Birds clucked and fluttered above but didn't take flight as I snuck beneath them, kneeling as I searched for tracks. The tree leaned out to the side, as if the wind had influenced its growth.
    Thunder crashed over the plains and Stubs whimpered at the sound. The storm was coming, and its rain would swiftly wash away the tracks I was hoping to find. Usually dog packs followed a routine path, making tracking them easy simply by looking for the indentations carved into the layer of overgrowth in a patch of weeds like this. But Stubs had enticed the pack into chasing him away from their standard route.
    I grabbed the lowest branch of the Juniper tree and shook it, causing the tree's needles to rain down and the flock of birds to angrily take flight. Then I pulled myself up while Stubs stayed below, watching as I climbed as high as the brittle tree could support me. I pulled out my binoculars and gazed out over the plains in search of any sign of civilization.
    To the south, toward the home that I'd been staying in, a small town had once thrived. The neighborhood was quaint, with the majority of homes being of the ranch variety with single floors, and there was a large lot that had once housed trailer homes - all of which had long ago been demolished and scattered. A new development area had been started on the north side of the road, but the apoca lypse halted the project in mid-construction. Some of the rusted, broken vehicles still stood along the north side of the road, tied in place by the weeds and vines that now snaked their way through the mechanical giants. Further on, a mile or so down the slight slope that led north, was an industrial zone.
    Industrial plants were usually a sign of nearby water sources since they were frequently built on the banks of a river or lake, but I never trusted them. I'd seen too many containment units explode in my time to trust the water that flowed nearby. Still though, Stubs had come from the north, and it didn't look like there was anything else out that way except for the industrial park.
    The storm was moving over the park as I watched, and the telltale grey streaks beneath the clouds warned me that if I went that way, I was going to get wet.
    Stubs barked up at me as I jumped down. "Come on, bud. We're going to take a little trip." I scooped him up, not wanting to be slowed by his stubby legs, and carried him under my arm as I headed north.
    Rain has a distinct smell, especially when it's falling on thirsty plants, and the plains filled with the vibrant scent long before a single drop fell on us. In the early days after the apocalypse, rain didn't