“Like I said, worst case scenario.” He held up a handgun and a clip of ammo. “Pick out a combat weapon to bring with you, whichever you’re most comfortable with. I’ll be outside when you’re done to go over the gun with you.”
Stu stepped out of the trailer and left Nash alone in front of the large assortment of close combat weapons. He viewed each one closely, vetting their usefulness in his head as he looked from piece to piece. He reached for a knife with a long blade, sheathed in a black leather case with a compass situated in the leather. He took it off the wall and slid the blade out, admiring the shape and shine of the clean metal. It reminded him of one he’d lost long ago as he hid with Duncan in an abandoned gas station. He’d had it since the first week of their time on the road and he’d always regretted losing it. A bead of sweat formed and ran down his forehead as he realized for the first time how incredibly hot it was inside the Winnebago. He clipped the knife to the waist of his pants and stepped outside to join Stu.
The temperature noticeably changed as he stepped outside into the open. He coughed from Mark’s foul stench and moved aside as Mark closed the door behind him. Scott had joined Stu outside and smiled as Nash moved away from Mark’s putrid odor. Meghan joined them with a look of disgust on her normally bright face, which made Mark laugh even louder.
“Have you ever fired a gun before?” asked Scott. Nash nervously shook his head no. He looked down at the holstered weapon with a curiosity he never thought he’d have toward a firearm.
“Here, lemme show you,” said Scott as he took the gun from its holster and removed the ammunition clip. Meghan and Stu walked back to the gate together as Scott gave Nash a quick lesson.
Duncan sat near the RV in the same chair he always sat, leaning back as he watched them. Nash choked back excitement as he listened to Scott’s instructions; he knew that Duncan was dying to know what was going on and that filled him with satisfaction. He holstered his gun and clutched the handle of his knife firmly as he and Scott made their way toward the gate.
Stu placed his hand on Nash’s shoulder as they reached the gate, Meghan and Scott ready on the other side. “Be safe, kid. Just listen to them and you’ll do fine.”
“Nothing to worry about,” said Nash as he moved through the open gate to join Meghan and Scott.
“I’m not worried,” said Stu, smiling as he locked the gate behind them.
But Nash felt a twinge of guilt. He was leaving the rest of them with Duncan, Melissa included.
Chapter 11
It didn’t take long for Meghan and Scott to realize that Nash knew what he was doing outside the Fort. Nash was the newest resident in the Treefort, which meant he’d spent the most time surviving on the road, and it showed in the way he carried himself. He moved silently across the leaves and broken branches that covered the forest floor as Meghan and Scott branched out in other directions to search for anything that could be considered a threat to the Fort.
Security outside the walls of the Fort was very much based on the rules he already followed while out on the road. Slowpokes were to be left alone, as they posed no immediate threat. Howlers were to only be handled if they were in the direct vicinity of the fence, which from what he’d heard from everyone, didn’t happen very often. Everyone on the team was given a watch upon leaving and each hour they met at the front gate in order to report anything of concern and to regroup. A few hours had gone by and he already checked in three times; the forth check-in was rapidly approaching.
With the exception of the songbirds and the soft wind that wound its way through the trees, the forest was completely silent. Anything posing a danger would be heard long before it became a threat to anyone outside the fence. He walked slowly through the woods, enjoying the scenery as he scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. After months of hiding out in broken down cities and destroyed towns, the peaceful nature of the breeze reminded him of the times before the fall of the living. Standing in the warm afternoon sun, he had almost forgotten the world that lurked just beyond the woods.
The surprisingly heavy weight of the gun secured in its holster felt as if were pulling him toward the ground, a feeling he wasn’t particularly fond of. He stopped, unclicked the holster, and slid the gun out into his hand. The air around him remained warm as the sun made its slow descent into night, but the metal of the gun against his palm felt unnaturally cold. Compared to the natural feeling and grip of the knife, the gun felt completely foreign to him.
He re-holstered it and snapped the leather strap into place. He shook himself and looked back toward the Fort, shocked at how far he’d wandered.
“Way to go,” he whispered out loud to himself, frustrated by his lapse of judgment. The last thing he needed was to get lost on his first day. He wanted to feel useful and the security team felt like a good fit. He turned to make his way back to the Fort when the echo of running water in the distance registered in his ears.
He walked a few yards deeper into the woods and reached the edge of a shallow, high-banked creek. It wasn’t large, roughly six feet wide and six inches deep, but with banks that rose five feet into the air. It wasn’t the creek itself that demanded his attention, but rather the multitude of slowpokes bent over as they slowly shoveled water into their mouths.
He knelt down fast and scanned the distance around the creek, knowing that oftentimes howlers were attracted to groups of slowpokes. He listened closely for the telltale sounds of a nearby howler but only the symphony of thirsty slowpokes echoed around him.
He counted twenty-one slowpokes loitering, each with a red cloth tied around its left wrist. A male in a tattered business suit crouched next to a teenager in bloody basketball shorts, both were staring into the sky without purpose. Farther down, a younger woman sat with her legs spread out in front of her in the middle of the creek, slowly running her fingers through the cool water. Her toes popped out of the creek like little towers as she gazed at them with a look of wild amusement. Crouched beside her on the shore was an older man that laboriously tried to get water into his mouth as it repeatedly ran through her fingers and down her arm. His long, bony hand reached down for more, only to end up in the same predicament.
Down the creek in the direction he wasn’t looking, one of the slowpokes fell face first into the water, sending ripples in every direction. The rest of them up and down the watering line hardly paid notice as she slowly struggled to get back to her feet. Standing beside her, looking directly up at him from the edge of the water, was a slowpoke that immediately demanded every bit of his attention. He was wearing tattered pants with a button up shirt, both covered in old dirt and grime. The buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned halfway, which revealed his dirt-covered chest underneath, and a well-worn denim jacket hung loosely from his torso as he stared up at Nash.
The slowpoke’s eyes bored into Nash from behind a collection of thick, brown, dreadlocks. He smiled at Nash with a set of well-cared for, gleaning white teeth. When its grin widened into a deep, dumb chagrin and he stiffened his gaze on Nash.
“How’s it going, rookie?’ asked Scott as he joined Nash at the creek. Some of the slowpokes stopped to look at them as Nash told Scott to be quiet by placing his index finger over his lips. The look on Scott’s face turned to concern as he slowly crouched down beside Nash.
“Oh my,” whispered Scott, looking down at the mass of slowpokes drinking, many of them now staring at Scott and Nash from the creek bed. The slowpoke with the dreadlocks hadn’t looked away.
“Have they always been here?” asked Nash as he tried not to make too much eye contact with the smiling slowpoke.
“We usually find a few huddled around the water drinking, but not this many.” Scott continued to look up and down the creek in awe of the group. “I was down here three days ago and there was only three or four of them. They’re either just following the waterline or they’ve been herded here.”
“I assume you see what I see,” asked Nash, knowing Scott would have already noti
ced the red strips.
“First thing I noticed,” he said as he stood from his crouched position and locked eyes on the slowpoke with the dreadlocks. “He’s kind of creeping me out. I’ve seen them smile before but seriously, his eyes are on fire!”
Nash thought back to the slowpoke on the road that had been killed by the sniper. It’s happy, clueless face was something he would never forget, nor the sound of its body hitting the ground after the bullet tore through its skull.
“It’s getting close to final check in,” said Scott, his eyes still fixed on the raggedy slowpoke. “We should head back.”
The two turned and walked back toward the Fort in silence. Meghan was already waiting for them when they reached the gate. She looked disapprovingly at her watch as they approached.
“Honestly, let me explain before you start in on us,” said Scott as he held up his hands in surrender. Dianna and Stu opened the gate and joined them as Nash and Scott explained what they’d found at the creek.
“If it wasn’t for the red strips, I wouldn’t be worried in the least,” said Dianna. She had deep, black bags under her eyes that showed the level of exhaustion she’d felt since Sullivan’s departure. The smallest noise had her twitching, her hand immediately finding the handle of her knife at her hip. She was scared.
“Finding one or two every so often wearing those damn things is stressful enough, let alone a whole group of them meandering around together,” said Stu, his arms folded across his chest. “It’s starting to feel like some sort of message. How many were there exactly?”
“Twenty-one, by my count,” said Nash. He could see across the Fort that Melissa was sitting alone waiting for him to join her.
“That’s concerning. That’s too many at once,” said Stu as he ran his fingers through his beard nervously. “Assuming that tomorrow we still haven’t heard from Sullivan, Meghan and I will continue the security detail around the Fort. Nash and Scott, I’d like the two of you to follow the creek in the direction that they came from. Try and see what you can find.”
“Let’s just keep this between us for now,” said Dianna. “Get some dinner, have a relaxing night and then start back up early tomorrow.” The group nodded in agreement and broke off into the Fort to recharge. Dianna grabbed Nash by the forearm as he tried to walk away. “Good find today. That amount of them all in one place, moving together, that could be a big break in figuring this out.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile.
They both looked over to where Melissa sat as she tried to pretend she wasn’t watching them. “She’s been nervous all afternoon.”
Nash’s face flooded with color. And as pleased as he was to hear she worried for him, he was more concerned with Duncan.
“How was Duncan while I was gone?”
“Noticeably agitated,” said Dianna with a grin. “You didn’t tell him what you were doing today, did you?”
“Should I have?” he asked as he second-guessed his decision to not tell Duncan about his training. He felt no obligation to fill Duncan in on anything he did around camp, but he hadn’t thought about the drama he could have created for himself by keeping him in the dark.
“To hell with ‘em,” chirped Dianna as she broke into a loud chuckle. “He can leave whenever he is good and ready.” She gave him one last smile before she nodded in Melissa’s direction before wandering away.
He locked eyes with her as he walked, soaked in her smile and sent one back in return. Her face turned to concern as she looked over his left shoulder.
“Where were you today, Buddy Boy?” sneered Duncan as he came to a stop in front of him. Nash tried to move to the side to go around him, but Duncan grabbed him hard by the forearm and spat his putrid breath into Nash’s face.
“Get off me!” yelled Nash, pushing back hard enough that it almost made Duncan lose his footing. The look of shock on Duncan’s face after Nash’s retort was quickly replaced by determined anger.
“You’re not in charge here, asshole!” The words were spewing from Duncan’s mouth with a quiet hatred, only loud enough for the two of them to have heard. “You don’t leave these walls without me. All these people here might be making you feel like Mr. Bigshot, but you and I know you’d have been dead long ago if it weren’t for my fucking generosity.”
“Get away from me,” said Nash sternly, using his other hand to push hard against Duncan’s chest, but the grip on his forearm did not relent. The sadistic smile Duncan had shown Stu that morning crept on his face, his lips peeling away from his teeth.
“I’ve got a promise for you,” he whispered into Nash’s ear. “I’m gonna fuck that little girlfriend of yours.”
The demented smile left Duncan’s face the moment Nash’s fist connected with his bottom jaw. Duncan’s fingers peeled away from Nash’s forearm as he rubbed his mouth, opening it wide as if to verify it still worked. Stu and a few men from the group came sprinting over to defuse the situation, as Duncan pulled Nash close by his shirt collar.
“Right in front of you, dickhead. Front. Row. Seat.”
Duncan released him and stormed off toward the RV, as Stu and another man followed after him. Melissa was at his side in a flash and knelt beside him as she threw her arms around him.
“It’s fine,” said Nash, watching as Stu stopped Duncan before he could get into the RV. They exchanged some choice words before Duncan stepped into the RV, leveling more insults about Stu’s weight and hairline before he slammed the door shut behind him.
“He’s awful,” she whispered to him, her voice full of nervous tension as they watched.
“I know. Stay away from him, okay? If he even so much as talks to you, let me know right away.” Duncan’s threat rang in his ears as he held her in his arms.
“If Sullivan isn’t back soon, we’re gonna have to make a decision on what to do with him,” said Stu as he furiously marched up to them. Melissa released Nash from her embrace as he approached.
“What have you done in the past with people like him?” asked Nash.
“That’s the thing, we’ve never had anyone like him here. If Sullivan isn’t back tomorrow, I think the safest thing is to exile him before he causes any real damage.”
“Fine by me. I want to be part of it though,” said Nash as he looked at Stu with determination. If they were to be rid of Duncan, he wanted to be there to see it through. He needed to see it through.
“Of course,” he said. “Melissa, take the night off. We can handle feeding the masses tonight.”
“Thank you!” she said as he walked toward the food truck. “Looks like my night’s free! Got any plans?”
“Well, I’m definitely moving into one of the other RVs, but other than that, I think I’m wide open,” he said with a smile. They put their arms around each other’s waists and walked to the middle of the Fort to the main fire.
The temperature dropped as sunset came quickly, which basked the Fort in the familiar firelight glow.
“So how was your first day out in the woods?” Melissa asked as she leaned into Nash.
“It was good, actually. It feels like a good fit for me.”
“You were safe, I assume?” She looked up at him with false, comedic concern.
“I made it back in one piece, didn’t I?”
“Don’t be a jerk!” Melissa chuckled. “I haven’t seen anyone even close to our age since I got here. I like having you around.”
“What? You don’t like all the old-timers?”
“Who you calling old-timer, sonny?” said Dianna from across the fire.
“Well you’re no spring chicken, Dianna,” Stu said, putting his hands up expecting her to land a punch on him…which she did with a smile.
They all chuckled together as Nash reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture he’d taken from Melissa’s room and handed it to her. “Never did I imagine I’d end up sitting here with you.”
She held the picture as they both looked at it in the pale light of the roaring fi
re. Tears welled in her eyes.
“It was so much easier then. I miss them horribly.” Nash raised his arm and placed it around her, his hand resting on the top of her right shoulder. Before long, she was asleep and breathed nervously onto his chest as she made her way through some mysterious dream.
Dianna and Stu stood up together as Dianna expelled a booming yawn. She stretched her arms high above her head as her back popped loudly. “I’m so glad Sullivan found you, but you should get her to bed.”
Stu and Dianna walked off together and disappeared into the night. Nash spoke softly to Melissa and gently squeezed her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled up at him, the glow of the fire beautifully illuminated her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her in that moment, but thought better of it. He knew things were moving quickly and he didn’t want to scare her off. “We should get you to your bed.”
She nodded in agreement and removed herself from his shoulder as he helped her to her feet. She slipped her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. They walked with her head still rested on his shoulder, moving carefully through the darkened Treefort. He could see movement inside his RV, and he realized he wasn’t prepared to deal with Duncan’s wrath. After the altercation earlier that day, he knew his move to one of the empty RVs would not be an easy thing for Duncan to accept.
They reached Melissa’s RV, the sounds of snoring flowed freely from inside. She looked at him with a sour face and knew that because she had stayed up later than everyone, she’d now have to tip toe through the sleeping campers to get to her spot. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug before they parted for the night.
“Goodnight,” she whispered to him.
She kissed him softly on his cheek before pulling away. The small, sweet kiss sent his mind into a tailspin and made him instantly regret not kissing her first at the fire. Everything about that moment had been perfect. So perfect, he didn’t want to chance ruining it.
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