Page 39 of His to Burn

“Interesting story, Asia,” Jack said.

He tapped his fingertips against his biceps, the only sign of his impatience outside of the dryness in his voice.

I felt myself smile. “Am I losing you?” I asked.

It wasn’t generally in my nature to tease, but when he wasn’t being scary, something about him brought out a more playful side. Maybe even because of the confusing, deadly situation we were in.

Still, I was never known to be the most easygoing person in the world, but Jackson gave me a run for my money.

“Asia, get to the point,” he said.

Despite the underlying harshness in his words, I got my desired response. He looked incrementally less tense than he had just moments ago, and that was something.

“Anyway, in Judge Hanlon’s personal injury practice, he ran across all types ofpeople. Some good…others, less so,” I said.

“In personal injury? I mean, we’re talking about fender benders and chiropractors. What’s shady about that?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, that’s true, and for the most part, personal injury plaintiffs are just people who’ve been hurt trying to get what little compensation they can. A lot of those people are broken and will never be whole again. But there are scammers. In fact, there were rumors about twenty years ago that Judge Hanlon was a part of a ring. They’d go around the Southeast staging car accidents and skimming ten, fifteen, twenty thousand from insurance companies who thought the cases were more trouble than they were worth pursuing. It was a nice little racket for him,” I said.

“But?” Jack asked.

“But it made him paranoid. He was sure that eventually, someone would catch on. Or worse, the people he worked with would turn on him.”

“And so?” Jack arched a brow.

“And so he really got into self-defense. Started taking martial arts and swears to God that he is an expert in Krav Maga.”

Jack’s lips turned down. “The guy who sat on the bench today?”

“Yeah, him.” I chuckled. “Anyway, that unleashed something in the judge, and he fell deep down the rabbit hole. Became a prepper and said he was going to be prepared for whatever might come,” I said.

“Meaning?” Jack asked.

“Meaning that when I was his clerk, in addition to my legal tasks, I was responsible for ensuring his stockpile was properly updated and maintained and that items were rotated out. Clearly the highest use of my legal degree.”

That got a smile out of Jack, and then he turned serious. “So you think the judge’s house might be the place to go to try to ride this out?”

“Yeah. In fact, it’s the only place I can think of. Like I said, my place is out of the question, your hotel is out of the question, and I don’t think wandering around the streets hoping to find somewhere safe is a good idea. But if we can get to Judge Hanlon’s, he’ll take us in,” I said.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“I am. He’s…eccentric. But we always got along, and even though he has never, not once, cut me any slack in court, he thinks fondly of me,” I said.

“So what’s the catch?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t really say it’s a catch, but there was one piece of advice Judge Hanlon didn’t take from his prepper friends,” I said.

“And what was that?” Jack asked.

“Everything I’ve read said to really make it for the long haul, you need to get away from population centers. But while he waited for the end of the world, Judge Hanlon definitely enjoyed the creature comforts of city life. So his house is on a half-acre, but it’s right in midtown. One of those population-dense areas,” I said.

“One of those fancy McMansions I drove by on the way here?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean one of those places that screams, ‘Come loot me’?”

I nodded. “Yes, exactly that kind of place. But Judge Hanlon did make modifications. I don’t know all the changes, but I know he has custom windows, the walls have been fortified, and he has plenty of supplies. And it’s better than staying here.”