by Brown, TW
They had come over what used to be Interstate 205 and been greeted by a half dozen bodies hanging from nooses at each end. It had not been lost on Jason that they were all men, and that they’d all been stripped from the waist down and their manhood rather unceremoniously removed.
Jason ducked low and used the hedge that ran parallel to the walkway as his cover. He was really glad, and not for the first time, that he lived in Oregon where plant life was abundant and a regular part of most business landscaping. Reaching the end, he could now hear the discussion taking place.
“…Larry said they are just a drag on resources and we have to let them go,” a young woman’s voice said. It was clear from her tone that this conversation was over and done in her mind.
Apparently the younger sounding woman with her was either ignoring the verbal cue or simply not ready to concede the point. “But they had that whole car full of supplies. They certainly brought enough that they can’t be called freeloaders.”
“And how do you think we continue to stay ahead of the game?” the other woman asked. “We do it by bringing in more than we use. It is called running at a surplus.”
“Yeah, well if Larry keeps killing all the newcomers—”
“Just the men,” the other woman corrected.
“Fine, if he keeps killing all the men, we are gonna be a tribe with a ratio of ten women to every man. That makes the pickings, rather thin. Have you seen some of those guys? Seriously.”
“And if you would pay attention, you would realize that we need more women for the genetic pools,” the second woman stated, seeming to basically ignore what the first one said.
Jason almost barked a laugh out loud. Apparently this mysterious “Larry” was not choosing his females based on their brains. Glancing over the hedge, he could see the two women.
Sure enough, one of them was more of a plastic surgeon’s construct than an actual woman. Her parka was unzipped to reveal more than ample breasts shoved up and together in some sort of bright pink Lycra top that was also partially unzipped. If he had to guess, Jason would peg her as having been a stripper in one of Portland’s many strip clubs. Her blond hair could be seen around the fringes of her knit stocking cap and even in cold weather gear, it was obvious that she was skinny. Not that all strippers were vapid wastes of human flesh, but he’d met enough to know that the smart ones were as rare as a vegan Republican from Texas.
The other woman was short. Unlike her friend who seemed to be more concerned about how she looked versus staying warm, this one was bundled from head to toe. She even had a scarf around her that she kept wrapped around the lower half of her face. He was surprised that it did not do much to muffle her voice as he had been able to hear both sides of their conversation quite clearly. Her dark hair stuck out from one of those caps that was in the shape of some cartoon character that he did not recognize. It was bright yellow and the flaps hung down in a way that Jason saw as being dangerous since they would allow for something (or someone) to grab them and jerk her head down or back.
The two women actually appeared to be standing watch. They were posted next to an old green car of some sort that was mostly covered with snow except for the area that had been brushed clean, presumably by them, and used to rest a pair of beverage containers that had steam trickling from them. The whole scene did not seem right to Jason, but he had to assume there was a method to such madness.
He turned to Erin. “Okay, I guess I will try to approach them?” He hadn’t really meant it as a question, but it had certainly come out that way.
“You do realize that they are probably bait,” Erin stated.
“I can feel that something is off, but I sure can’t figure out what.” With that, he shouldered out of his pack and handed over his rifle. He checked the pistol tucked into his belt and patted the handle of his machete as if seeking some sort of reassurance. He gave a hand sign to one of the other pairs and indicated where he wanted them to move towards. Once he was confident that everybody was in place, he stood up.
Once on his feet, Jason started walking towards the women. His first surprise came in just how fast they drew their weapons. He had not even seen the two assault rifles leaning against the car they were standing next to as they spoke. He certainly saw them now.
“You can stop right there, mister,” the dark haired one snapped.
Jason froze, but he also made a few more observations now that he was a bit closer. For one, the woman had brought the rifle to her hip, not her shoulder. While that sort of thing looked cool on screen, it made for lousy aim. If she was holding a shotgun, it wouldn’t much matter, but this was an assault rifle. Yes, she might hit him, but held to the shoulder at this range, a shot aimed center mass would almost certainly strike home. Second, she had amazingly beautiful eyes that were a striking blue that was in drastic contrast to her dark hair.
As for the one he currently called “Blondie”, she was holding her weapon, but it was thrust out in front of her like she might be more inclined to try and jab him with it instead of shoot him. Also, he could see a visible tremor. The gun was almost vibrating.
“I don’t want any trouble.” Jason put his hands up and came to a halt. “I just heard voices and…well…it’s been so long since I heard a human voice, ya know. I just—”
“Save it,” the dark haired one snapped. “You need to just turn around and find someplace else to crash. We ain’t got nothin’ here for you. And we don’t take in freeloaders.”
“I’m not a freeloader!” Jason insisted. He pointed to his pack. “I got food and stuff. I was just looking for someplace to stay until this damn snow clears out. I’m on my way to Salem. That’s where my family is…or, at least that is where they were. But I gotta go myself and see, know what I mean?”
“Listen, mister,” the dark haired one stepped forward, making it sort of clear to Jason who was running things at this location, “you don’t want to stop here, you—”
“You’re kinda cute…in a biker sort of way,” Blondie cooed, stepping up beside her companion, her gun still being held in a haphazard manner.
“Can it, Mercy,” the dark haired one hissed. “Trust me when I tell you, you don’t wanna stop here.” The woman looked Jason in the eyes and made her attempted warning as clear as she could.
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with them bodies hangin’ back at the overpass would it?” Jason asked casually.
The reaction that he received was very interesting. The dark haired woman’s lips tightened, as did her grip on her rifle which was now inching its way up to her shoulder. The blonde’s mouth had popped open to a surprised ‘O’ that indicated she might not be entirely clued in on how things were running in her camp.
“That is none of your concern, now please, do as I advised and just move on.”
By this time, the woman with the dark hair had her rifle to her shoulder. She meant business, and that was really the part that would haunt Jason. The woman was trying to save him. She knew that he would be “welcomed” in and then stripped of anything valuable and probably hung like the others.
She never heard the figure move up behind her, and only had a brief instant to register that she had been duped as a hand covered her mouth and the knife made its way across her throat. Blondie was taken down in much the same manner, however, for whatever reason, Jason forgot her almost as soon as he stepped over the body that was bleeding out in a crimson spray that made a mess of the almost pure white snow.
“Everybody move fast,” Erin hissed as she caught up and started towards the long building at the bottom of the gently sloped drive, making a point to stay down low and not actually cross or enter where she might be seen by anybody on top of the warehouse.
The lead group had already made their way around the back side of the small complex and cleared the roof of any possible lookouts. This was proved by the gray piece of cloth that fluttered from the cell tower situated on a lot that bordered the rear of this place. Jason and Erin waited
until they spied a figure stand up on the roof of the building and wave a green flag. Actually, it was a green tee shirt tied to a golf club, but this was a time where you simply made what you needed out of what you had on hand.
The pair moved down the driveway and to the gate with four others. As soon as they reached it, Jason stood watch as Erin produced heavy cutters and snipped an opening into the fence.
“This is a terrible location,” Jason observed as they made their way through the hole. “The back side is all brambles, trees, and high brush that blocks your field of vision. You are at the bottom of a hill. I am surprised they lasted this long, and I can bet that, if it wasn’t us doing this now, somebody else would do it later.”
“Tell yourself whatever you need to, but let’s move,” Erin snarled. “I told you, things are gonna change. You have to be ready to adapt or you die.”
They reached the metal door. Jason held his breath as Erin reached down and tried the handle. He was only a little surprised when the thumb latch pressed down and the door opened with an audible click.
If Jason was surprised, then the man standing in the entry hallway between a door that likely opened to the warehouse proper and a window that showed some sort of office, was even more stunned. In the office, a woman sat at a desk with a book in her hand and a large binder of some sort open on the desk before her. Both were absolutely shocked into immobility.
The man recovered and was turning for the door just as Jason lunged and tackled the scrawny figure who looked like a cast off from Revenge of the Nerds. They landed on the concrete floor of that entry hall with a nasty thud. Jason quickly went about the task of slitting the man’s throat. Erin had her arm in the open window of the small office and was shoving it back so she could climb through as the woman seated at the desk fell backwards and got tangled in the chair she had just been occupying.
A moment later the six of them had hurried down the long hallway. Obviously these had once been offices of some sort. Now, they were bedrooms. The ones that were occupied had people at card tables in some cases, or asleep in sleeping bags in others. They had slipped into an obvious false sense of security or perhaps even a degree of boredom. Whatever the case, Jason was amazed at how easily they moved from room to room and executed its inhabitants.
He had shut off the emotional part of his brain. That was how he had managed to function during his criminal days where he embarked on more than a few home invasions. Of course, in those instances, he and his gang had a rule. Women and children were not hurt with the exception of what it took to restrain them. (He would learn later how much of a lie that was that he had managed to convince himself of as his victims testified in court and recounted their terror; many demonstrating the effect of an injury that might not be seen, but was very real none the less.) Nobody was ever killed in those days.
As he ended the life of a young man barely into his teens and the two young women who had been asleep in that room as well, he felt things try to slip in and bruise his conscience. His only defense was to picture Gabriel sitting there, waving to him as he and the others left. His mind painted a picture of a boy near starvation with hollow cheeks and an overly gaunt frame.
At last, they reached the end of the hallway and were faced with a pale brown door. They could hear an incredible ruckus on the other side. For a moment, Jason was certain that they had been discovered and that the group that was supposed to wait for their signal to rush in from the back had come early and been revealed. Then a heavy thud sounded as if something had physically struck the door he was now facing.
“Man! You suck!” somebody bellowed from the other side of the door. “That was right in your hands!”
They were playing a game, and that sound had obviously been a ball or something that hit the door. Jason turned to the others and gave the nod after confirming that this door was also unlocked. Almost in unison, everybody sheathed their blades and brought up a variety of rifles. Erin held up her hand and counted off.
One…two…three.
The door flew open and Jason charged in with his group on his heels. Unlike the sentries, all of the people with Jason had rifles at their shoulders as they scanned and located the next target. It was over so fast that it almost felt anti-climactic. Bodies were strewn about the concrete floor of the long warehouse. Some were still moving, and each of them was quickly dispatched with a blade.
The other team of six had come through the back door, cutting off retreat and taking down the few who actually had enough reflex to try and attempt an escape. Large hatches on the roof opened, and the four up top climbed down and did a walkthrough using the catwalk some fifty feet above. Once the “All Clear” signal was given, Jason set everybody to task.
Just as had been promised, a pair of large UPS trucks were parked just inside the rear bay. They were brought forward and the loading began. Standing beside Erin, Jason sighed and said, “Well, looks like we are the bad guys now.”
“You don’t get it.” Erin spun to face the man, her face an emotionless mask. “There is no black or white when it comes to survival…only varying shades of gray.”
***
Jason pulled up to the gate and waited for the person swaddled in winter gear to open it up, lower the handmade drawbridge that crossed the massive trench, and then wave them in. He pulled up as the person signaled him to stop before he was all the way over.
A handful of people emerged from some of the assorted cover that was in place around this main entrance; also, he looked up to see a rifle from the tower pointed directly at him.
“Hey, Jason,” Cherry said as she pulled back her hood and smiled.
“Glad to see that the new security protocols are being put in place.” Jason gave a wave to the person up in the tower. The person gave a curt salute, but the rifle never came down.
“Did everything go well?” Cherry asked as three armed individuals came forward with guns at the ready.
Jason watched them slide past the cab of the big, brown truck and make for the rear door. There was a pause as they set up in defensive positions at the rear doors to the cargo area, and then one person stepped forward and threw the doors wide, making certain to jump clear of the large opening. There was another pause before they moved in slowly and started to pull back some of the cargo. Once it was determined that the load was clear, the exact same procedure was repeated for the second van.
By nightfall, the vans had been completely emptied and all the goods were being inventoried. Jason stopped by Ken’s cubicle long enough to produce a pint of some generic brand of whiskey that he’d never heard of, but Ken accepted it like it was fine Kentucky bourbon. The next day, the man was found, dead in his bed with an empty container of pills still clutched in his fist. Jason noted that it was perhaps one of the first times (besides being the last) that he had seen Ken with an honest-to-goodness smile on his face.
Even more peculiar was the fact that the Golden Retriever was curled up on the floor beside the bed, tail thumping slowly when Juanita entered that morning to make the discovery. The dog stayed in the room until Jason and a few others came, wrapped the man up in a blanket, and took him out to one of the bonfires that sat in the clearing between the fence line and the trees.
This had actually been one of the first rules brought to the small community. It was suggested after a group of five that were barely able to walk when they arrived all died within an hour of being admitted. Since burying people was considered to be a waste of time and energy, everybody was asked to agree that his or her body could be taken to the bonfires in the event of death. It had seemed like such an odd thing, but most people saw the sense.
People had complained at first about some of the measures that had been decided upon by a handful of individuals, but as word continued to slip in about some of the conditions that people were being found out in The Wastelands, mouths shut and grumbling ceased; at least in any sort of public manner. Jason knew that people would always bitch and moan when they felt they
had some sense of privacy.
As winter continued and the weather alternated between dreary and rainy, to clear as a bell and so cold it hurt your face, and then with a few more snow events mixed in just for good measure, the number of survivors that straggled in dropped dramatically. With them came tales of madness, inhumanity, and even a few examples of dramatic heroism. Many brought in stories of starvation and cannibalism.
While such things seemed like an impossibility to most of the folks living in this compound, they were certainly not ignored or dismissed by a small group, mainly Jason and a few of the others with knowledge of their own inventory and how precarious it had become until that warehouse run.
Even with that massive influx of supplies, things remained very tight as winter dragged on. The levels of depression rose with the degree of confinement, and more than once, either Jason or Erin, the de facto leaders of this little community, were called to deal with a body of somebody who had taken the steps to end their own life. One time in particular, that had almost ended in disaster as a person chose to slit their wrists.
The woman in question had been a bite victim that, like Gabriel, had not taken ill and turned. However, at some point after her suicide, she rose and wandered out of her little cubby/stall that made up her semi-private living quarters. Fortunately, she staggered out and bumped into one of the off going roving sentries who promptly stuck his blade into her temple and then went and woke Jason.
After that, there was a mandatory check-up of all residents. The biggest surprise was that they discovered three more individuals who had been bitten and were immune. They were noted in a security manual and it became part of the rovers’ routine to stroll by their little stalls. Perhaps that was why it was also no big surprise when one of the immune let loose with a scream one night that brought almost everybody in the compound running.
Star Walker was a pretty young lady who was one of the immune. At some point, as people allowed themselves to start to return to some sort of sense of normality, she became enamored with a young man named Arris Blom.
