by Jones, K. J.
She went outside to see the team off.
Angela said, “I set up an area for the girls to do their thing.” She pointed towards the back of the property. “A private pop-a-squat area. I don’t know what we’re going to do about number two. Build a privy?”
It was overwhelming. So much to do. A privy, or outhouse, was a major task of digging a deep hole beneath a tiny shack.
Avoiding the issue, Mazy said, “Phebe needs to eat more than canned pasta.”
“Oh. Her prenatal vitamins.”
“No, no. She grabbed it during the bug-out.”
“That’s a relief. The baby needs those.”
“What kind of food do we feed her?”
“No shellfish.”
“Don’t think we can eat that either.”
“Why?” asked Angela.
“Shellfish are bottom feeders. There’s dead bodies all over the waterways.”
Ben presented his SASS riffle to Mazy. “For Pheeb.”
A guard on top of the house was wise. But it meant even fewer personnel.
“I’ll give it to her. Be careful out there, Running Elk.”
He smiled. “Always.”
Jayce closed and bolted the faux piazza door behind the team. He took up his guard assignment.
Nia ran up from the back of the yard. “I set up nests for the chickens in the little greenhouse. Is that okay?”
“That’s excellent,” Mazy said. “Good job.”
“I put down water bowls for them too.”
Mazy politely smiled to her, thinking of how chickens would be on the girl’s plate one day.
7.
A cement levee wall ran around the Battery. A sidewalk built on top of it for people to jog along or whatnot.
Tyler ran up the steps. Mullen followed.
“You can see far from here,” said Tyler. “What’s that?” He pointed.
“That is Fort Sumter.”
“It’s a military fort?”
“No. Well, not for a long time.”
“Why is it a fort then?”
“The Civil War.”
“So?”
“Hey, guys, we need to find him some history books.”
“Later,” said Ben. “You two get back down here.”
They spread out into a diamond formation. At the very end of Historic Battery was a park, where an old cannon sat. Green grass was slowly being replaced by tall weeds. Feathers of many colors from birds killed by the gassing littered the ground. More rats. Scurrying insects. No dragonflies or butterflies. Only various species of roaches and beetles with the buzzing of flies everywhere.
The mouth of two rivers, the Cooper and the Ashley, merged here as they flowed out to the Atlantic. No boats or ships in the distance. A lot of human-made debris thrashed against the shore, intermingled with driftwood and shells.
To the other side of the park, mammoth white houses sat like sleeping giants on postage-stamp-sized land. Their fronts faced front like houses normally did. But they were close to each other. If a person opened his window of one multi-million dollar house, he could play handball against the side of the next one, they were so close. Ben didn’t understand that. In South Dakota, people with money wanted to get away from other people. The white mammoths were never-ending in their ornate architecture. Mullen probably knew the names of the styles.
Stepping over the remains of people and animals, they headed towards the Ashley River side of the town.
Brandon stopped at the sight of a skeletonized horse on its side.
“Go around it, Pell,” Ben ordered.
“Why do they have horses?” Tyler asked.
“Horse and buggy tourism,” Mullen said. “Like Downtown Wilmington had.”
“Why’d the horse die?”
“Couldn’t zoms take them down?” asked Mullen.
“Not a chance,” Brandon responded. “It’s not The Walking Dead. How they had those dead Romero zombies take down horses, even a tiger. Not even close to reality. I couldn’t keep watching that shit.”
“Sounds like you saw a lot of it, though,” said Ben.
Brandon shrugged. “Some guys had it on a lot.”
“But,” said Tyler, “how’d the horse die then?”
They continued to walk, peering down streets. While some streets had sidewalks on both sides, others had barely any. Compact cars parked on the sidewalks of one side, making just enough room for another vehicle to get by.
“Maybe it was infected,” said Mullen. “They had to shoot it.”
Ben gave the fist upright to signal stop. “There’s a pile-up of bodies down this street. C’mon.”
“Are you sure those are bodies?” Brandon followed.
“Silence.”
Ben aimed up at the piazza balconies of a mansion. As they grew closer, they caught the scent of decomp.
“There’s a fragrance. Definitely dead bodies.” Brandon’s face scrunched up in disgust.
Ben signaled all of them close to the wall. He pointed to the opposite wall from the target house. It was riddled with bullets. He then pointed to the second-floor piazza balcony. A machine gun’s barrel jutted out beyond the railing.
He whispered, “We got survivors.”
“How?”
Brandon received a scowl to shut up.
Movement on the balcony. A man leaned out to see them. He aimed a hunting riffle.
“Come out where I can see y’all.”
Ben responded, “You can’t shoot us from there or you would’ve already.”
“It’s legal for me to shoot to kill looters.”
“If you’re the National Guard. Are you?”
“Just come away and let me see you.”
“So you can shoot us? Hell no.” Ben signaled a retreat and to remain close to the wall.
As soon as they went back a few paces, he signaled to cut through an alley. A bullet hit the sidewalk behind Tyler’s foot.
“Hurry,” Ben barked.
Trees obscured the next shot.
“Okay.” Ben regrouped them on the next street. “We got an armed survivor there. Where are the street signs? We gotta mark this. Where’s a damn map of this place?”
Up another street, an upside-down US flag hung in front of a house. It was clean and fresh. He signaled them to aim and take defensive positions. Derelict cars helped.
“What do you see?” Mullen whispered behind a dust-covered BMW.
“The flag. It’s new.”
Brandon whispered, “How the hell are all these people surviving?”
They looked around, noting Ben was right in his observation. Everything else was disheveled. Flags and windsocks dirty from several storms through the previous months. Some were thread-worn at the ends.
Some properties told of fights. Front doors or piazza doors wide open. White picket fence panels laid on tiny front yards. Rectangular window boxes hanging by a single screw. Clothes-wearing skeletons laying here and there.
Mullen pointed at a car with an open door. A clothed skeleton hung out of the driver’s side. “Should I check for keys?”
Movement from the presumed occupied house.
“Negative. We’re being watched,” Ben said.
“Look.” Brandon pointed to the top of the house. “That ugly antenna.”
“That’s a HAM radio antenna,” said Ben. “Long-range.”
“Should we befriend this guy?”
“Guy or girl, we’ll probably get our asses shot. Currently without a medic. We can’t get shot, men.”
Tyler chuckled. “Pheebs would have to deflesh us to examine the bullet holes in our skeletons.”
Brandon stared at the kid with a pinch of fear and a large dollop of concern.
Ben whispered, “Look at the SUV in their driveway. It’s Mad Maxed out. Definite survivor here. Mark it.”
“On what?” Mullen asked.
“Your memory.”
“Wish I brought paper and pen then.”
“Just every
one remember, for Christ’s sake.”
“Okay. No need to get testy.”
“I’ll smack you in a minute.”
“Geez.”
“We’re backtracking. Keep low. Eyes on the house for a gun.”
They reached the next cross street without incident and stood up straight to walk.
“How did they survive the gassing that obviously killed everyone at the cruise ship?” asked Brandon.
“And the birds in the park,” added Mullen.
“Why are there so many seagulls left?” Brandon added to his questioning.
“Oh, that,” said Mullen. “It happened at the marina too. Seagulls died, but then a bunch of new ones showed up. It’s some weird seagull thing.”
“Rat’s of the sky,” Ben said. “They’re fantastic opportunists. Hunting and foraging grounds opened up by the kill off. They came from further inland waterways. Just like the sharks moved to the coast and gators took to rivers closer to the river mouths. They’re filling vacancies. Including ones left by the human die-off.”
Up another street.
“Did you see that?” Mullen’s voice high pitched with excitement. He pointed.
“Yeah,” responded Ben.
“That was a girl. She ran into that house.”
“Got it, Mullen. Stop pointing.”
“What do we do, gunny?” asked Brandon.
“Mark it and move on. This is just recon.”
8.
“That was the march of death,” Mullen complained as he entered the dining room.
Mazy smiled. “Why’s that, kid?”
“Raven made us walk the whole place.” He dropped shopping bags on the floor.
“Hey. Don’t leave those there.”
“I have to go die from exhaustion.”
“Get over it. Ben, what’s with the shopping bags?”
All of them walked in with plastic bags hanging off their hands.
“We found some stores. Mul, pick that up off the floor. It’s in the walkway.”
“Aye-aye, gunny.”
“Two seconds away from getting slapped, kiddo.”
“Kiddo? How old are you?”
“I can be as old as I want. Prerogative of a superior.”
“Oh. Is that how it works?”
“Unpack the bags.” Ben turned to Mazy and pulled out a map.
“Yay. You found one.”
“Found several different kinds. This is the touristy one with historic houses and shit labeled.” A black Sharpie came out. “I’ve marked the houses that we can confirm are occupied.”
Her eyes widened. “Occupied? Survivors?”
“Yup.”
Mullen sat down. “Yeah, I was surprised too.”
Brandon and Tyler took seats.
“Raven wouldn’t let me get candy,” Tyler whined.
“Yeah,” she responded. “Or we pull out your rotten teeth with plyers.”
He dumped the contents of his bags on the table.
“Toothbrushes,” she cheered. “Finally.”
Ben pointed to the map. “We got a machine gun nest here.”
“Whoa. Really?”
“I’m thinking a Browning from what I could see.”
“Really? Total antique time.”
“Sure looks to be working. It shot a pile of zom bodies. Possibly healthy, too. It was a hostile situation.”
Mullen dumped out packages of men’s boxers.
“Took care of yourself, I see,” Mazy said.
“He marked the store. There’s girl stuff, too. But I don’t know how to loot for girls.”
“Because you have to take our tentacles into consideration?”
“Huh? Isn’t that a Phebe thing to say?”
“Yeah. I’m stealing her material.”
Tyler asked, “Did the guys show up?”
“No.” Her face softened. “Sorry.”
“They will.”
“Take a bottle of water and brush your teeth.”
“Why?”
“Because you got stank breath.”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
She turned to Ben. “Do we have a count on survivors?”
“Negative. Only of their houses. Those we can confirm.”
“We need to think of how to further secure this property. How many zoms did you spot?”
“None. Weirdly.”
“None?”
“Not a single one.”
“Think they’re dead?”
He shrugged. “Makes sense they would be. It’s been a minute. They only live a certain amount of time, right?”
“That’s my understanding. Without new victims, yeah. The virus would die out. Burn out, I guess the language is.”
“Speaking of which. Where’s everybody?”
“Well, the smell of cooking indicates Angela’s in the kitchen. We had an army of a conveyor belt moving clean water from the Molly to get cooking water.”
“That needs improvement.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Shouldn’t you college graduates figure that out?”
“Hmm. I missed the one with an engineering degree.”
He smiled. “It’s probably more of a trade school thing.”
“Yeah. So Angela is cooking beans and rice. She’s a whizz at this. Really impressed. It would be canned pasta and burnt Spam otherwise.”
“That’s the best you could do, New Orleans?”
She laughed. “You think I can whip up some gumbo?”
“Yeah. Then we puke our brains out from food poisoning.”
“Hey!”
“No, no. From the shellfish. Don’t beat me.”
“Better. Thought I’d have to hurt you. I’m a damn fine cook. Just not on a centuries-old fireplace.”
“Where’s everyone else? Are the chickens happy?”
“They’re the most important members. Yeah. Nia’s tending to them. The rooster seems to like her.”
“Good. That makes one person he likes.”
“I don’t know where Emily went, but Phebe is upstairs to lay down. She found peanut butter, so that’s good protein.”
“Making a brand new human being is tiring work.”
“That’s for sure. We’re worried about her getting the nutrition she needs.”
“Yeah. That is worrisome. Can’t the baby end up messed up?”
“Think it’ll probably miscarry if something’s wrong. But not being a mother, not sure.”
Tyler raced towards the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Ben yelled after him.
“To the indoor pool.”
Mazy and Ben looked at each other.
“At least we have a pool.” He smirked.
“They better not pee in it. We may have to use it like it’s the Ganges River.”
Chapter Two
Day two in Charleston.
1.
Phebe hardly slept through the night. The other side of the bed was too empty. Her feet kept searching for Peter’s, then she’d startle awake at not finding him.
Exhausted, and wearing underwear left at the boat – the big girl underwear rolled several times to stay up – she went downstairs in the search of food.
“Ravioli.” Brandon dropped a can in front of her on the counter.
“Cold ravioli.”
“It’s the healthy version.”
She lifted the can and examined the label. Some brand name she had never heard of. “Is there no more canned chicken?”
“Saving it. Diversify the diet.” He spooned ravioli into his mouth with happiness. “There’s tons of bottled water in that closet.”
She shuffled over to it.
“Emily was asking about the, um, bathroom facilities. I got no problem pissing and shitting out back. But her …”
“Can you not talk about this while I’m eating?”
“Oh.” He laughed. “Sorry. Heard about your poo issues. They said it’s your … what’s a clown-pig?”
She choked as she laughed.
“Shit. Need the Heimlich there?”
She swigged water. Once the ravioli cleared her windpipe, she croaked, “It means your worst fear.”
“Shit is your worst fear?”
“Shut up. What’s yours?”
“I’m so not telling anyone. People think it’s funny to scare ya with it.”
“Scare me with poo and I will shoot you.”
“No doubt. But you can’t avoid poo in life. Everyone poos. Didn’t you read that book?”
Finishing her can, she left it on the counter. “Nice talking with you.”
“It’s everywhere, Phebe.”
She yelled over her shoulder, “Go fuck yourself, Pell.”
He laughed.
She hurried back. “Where’s my Tyler?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t seen him?”
“Since when?”
“Dunno.”
“Shit. I’m a crappy mother. I have to find him.”
“Good luck. This house is fucking huge.”
* * *
Tyler was in the pool. She found him floating on a raft.
“Did you eat?”
He startled at her voice and fell into the water.
“Sorry,” she said when he came up.
“Don’t do that.”
“I tried to stomp my feet.”
He swam to the side. “Didn’t hear it. Fell asleep.”
“Did you sleep last night?”
“No. No one relieved me from Molly guard.”
“Oh. Oops.”
He pulled himself out of the water by the side. She noticed he was a muscular thing, for having a thirteen-year-old bird chest.
“Where did you find a towel?”
He had an Egyptian cotton bath towel.
“There.” He pointed to a closet. “Hey, do I get a room?”
“Pick one. Gotta stand up for yourself, Ty, being as shy as you are.”
“When people leave me outside all night.”
“Sorry.”
“Not you. You need to sleep. The … ya know.” He vaguely pointed in the direction of her abdomen. “But the others.”
“Talk to them.”
“Can’t you?”
“Is this part of my guardianship role?”
“Since you leave me outside all night and don’t even notice.”
“Aw.” She opened her arms. “Are you feeling unloved and neglected?”
She meant it as a joke, but he came into her arms and hugged her. He was being very un-Tyler-like.
