No Room In Hell (Book 3): Aftershocks

by Schlichter, William

  “Where were you heading?”

  “Thought about south until I found the highway going straight to Springfield,” she says.

  “I hear it was untouched,” Walter says.

  “Then why head north with Captain America over there?” Lindsey asks.

  Chad waves Noah over. He stands guard while Noah loops the wench around the tree.

  “Chad’s home’s safe.”

  “Where is it?”

  “North. It’s all I know and all I need to. If there are more people out there like those who hurt you, then I don’t want to risk my granddaughter’s life. I ask that if you wish to travel with us, you promise to protect her.”

  “It will be my mission.”

  Walter offers his hand to help Lindsey to her feet.

  Under where she sat, a puddle of blood rests on the blacktop.

  “You’re hurt.” Walter knows blood will draw undead.

  “No. Time to change my pad.”

  Then, as nonchalantly as any old married man could be, “The only privacy you’ll get is behind the truck bed, and I’ll turn my back.”

  “Chivalry isn’t lost on you.” Lindsey fishes through her pack for the pads. Glad Walter didn’t ask any follow up questions. Likely he figures I’m ragging. Someone his age would call it that. Lindsey hobbles behind the truck.

  Noah activates the winch as the cable reels in the tree branches, clearing a section of the road wide enough for the truck to traverse.

  “Breaktime’s over.” Chad puts his shield in the bed of the extended cab. “We’re ready to travel.”

  “What about her?” Walter asks.

  Chad glances to the woman adjusting herself behind the truck. “Ethan would bring her along, with…” He marches to her. “You’re welcome to accompany us, but the first time you put my group in danger,” Chad says, “I put a bullet in you. No second chances.”

  She raises her arm, offering a handshake. “I accept. And I promise my life for that baby.”

  Chad grips it as tight as he would any male and pumps. He keeps his grasp, and helps Lindsey into the truck bed, ignoring the blood-soaked feminine pad peeking out from under the truck. “I’ll keep your gun for a while. You’ve your knife for defense.” He considers what Ethan would say. “This way, we build some trust.”

  “As long as if we run into…biters, I get it back.”

  “If there are enough undead I can’t handle them myself. We’ll see how well you shoot.”

  “You know, your shield is a great idea. Armor should make a fashionable and functional comeback,” she says.

  “Leather’s the way to go. And so far, the approaching summer has not had many hot temperatures, so it won’t overheat the body. You don’t know how to tan leather, do you?” Chad asks.

  “I was a FEMA agent. And no, that was never a training course.”

  “We eat a lot of beef and waste the cow hides.”

  “Tanner might be a career choice of the future, but I’m not qualified,” Lindsey says.

  Chad pats the side of the truck. “What about trains?”

  WANIKIYA SHAKES THE metal dog bowl, jostling the dry food.

  “Still won’t come out?” Simon asks.

  “No. I would venture a guess the dog still detects the aftershocks, even if we cannot.” He places the bowl outside the door to his kitchen in the community center.

  “Right after the first reports were…well, believable, I noticed all our four-legged friends disappeared. Poof. Undead. No more dogs.”

  “I was trapped in my office, and when I did escape, noticing pets was not a concern.”

  “I don’t see you as a desk jockey,” Simon remarks.

  “I was attending to student meetings where I taught at university,” Wanikiya says.

  “None of those kids made it.”

  “We must attend to Private Sanchez now that she’s in no danger of hypothermia. And we must get teams to reload the spent shells. We’ll become defenseless without ammo reserves,” Wanikiya says.

  “I have Nick preparing the brass. It’s not the issue.”

  Wanikiya finishes Simon’s thought, “We don’t have the gunpowder to restore our numbers.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “It’s the one item on everyone’s scavenging list. Are they in the library?”

  “All but Emily.”

  Wanikiya address the three people in the library. “This meeting will play on many ‘what ifs’ and assumptions. First, I want Acheron run by a committee. It’s Ethan’s plan…”

  “You believe he isn’t coming back,” Dr. Baker says.

  “If anyone can brave all the undead attracted to the Boot Heel, it’s Ethan. But I don’t expect him to return soon. And a command structure must be in place if something happens to me.”

  “We should have a command structure,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “We’re not the military,” Dr. Baker says.

  “Emily was to be a part of this council. And will be if she recovers. A military rep. Medical and others as the community grows,” Wanikiya says.

  “Odd numbers, so no deadlocks on decisions,” Dr. Baker says.

  Simon interjects, “Make it a farmer. One of the more common people.”

  “Emily is as common as they come.”

  “She’s up. I’ve never heard of anyone recovering so quick from that kind of head trauma,” Dr. Baker says. “She needs rest, and I worry if she relapses, she won’t recover.”

  “She represents the younger age group, as many survivors are younger.”

  “Bring Jada in. She’s respected.”

  “I’ll speak with her,” Wanikiya says. “For now, Major, you and Dr. Baker will function equally in the command structure if something happens to me.”

  “Ethan’s still our leader,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “Until he turns his command over to the council,” Wanikiya says.

  “I’m worried. Even if Ethan has yet to reach Memphis, he’s in the general area, and all the undead are heading in his direction. We must explore the option he won’t return,” Dr. Baker says.

  “We give him time. We say nothing other than he will return. Some people will panic without him. We deal with current issues. Dartagnan says we need six hundred thirty-seven people to build to the railroad tracks.”

  “Four hundred more people?”

  “His calculations involve maintaining other camp operations. We’ll need more people to raise more food to feed more people. And that will require a dictator or a ruling council,” Wanikiya says.

  The group glances at each other in turn.

  “The only resident capable of ruling with an iron fist and not sparking a revolution has always planned to turn Acheron over to a small group of equal leaders,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “We can’t put four hundred people in the gym, and growth plans don’t include many houses.”

  “If we get that many all at once, we’ll have to shift to some of the homes.”

  “What are we going to do for transportation? That’s a twenty-mile stretch of fence, and gas is staling. How do people get work? They can’t hike that far.”

  “More horses. They’re out there. Back to our priority.” Wanikiya glances at Simon. “Chief.”

  “Our recent defense cut our ammo reserves to nothing. We suffered no casualties at the teeth of the vectors. If we get hit again, we’ll have to use knives, and then there’s the chance of a fence breach. We must use what ammo is left to protect the cleanup crew burying the undead. It will take days, with Nick’s assistance, to have any reloads.”

  “I’ll give you as many people as you request,” Wanikiya says.

  “It’s not the number, it’s the equipment. We collected all the brass. All of it. I have enough supplies to reload a fourth of what was spent, which should give us enough rounds to forage for more. But this will wipe out our reserve of quality gunpowder.”

  “That must stay among this group,” Dr. Baker says. “It will cause panic. It
makes me panic.”

  “What does it mean for our scavenging?” Wanikiya asks.

  Dr. Baker interrupts, “What if another wave hits?”

  Major Ellsberg uses his full commander voice. “They’ll head south and get caught up in the Missouri River. I don’t believe we’ll see another mass herd. Even once they tire of chasing the earthquake noise, we thinned them out enough we can pick off any interested in the gates.”

  “We make guns and ammo a priority. It’s Missouri. It’s a prideful hunting state. There must be guns. Farm houses have to be full of them,” Simon adds.

  “Those people also ran off for the hills—with their guns,” Dr. Baker says.

  “As many homes as we’ve checked, I confirm your assessment,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “It still won’t hurt to search. We know the biters are attracted south. Ethan had teams avoid the bigger towns. Now we’ve a window to scout cities.”

  “Mexico,” Simon says.

  “A little farther south than I wanted to go.” Wanikiya chews the end of his nail on his right middle finger, a nervous habit he quit in his teens.

  “Mexico, Missouri. And the train tracks run through it. Might be the engines and cars we need are there,” Major Ellsberg says. “We send trucks.”

  “The noise brings the undead. Sanchez’s first mission failed,” Simon reminds the group.

  “Food and ammo. This will demand our timetable in preparing for winter.”

  “It’s the end of May.”

  “June and we’re not warming up. If you’d have asked me even a week ago, I’d say planning for the winter was crazy. How do we make long-term plans in this world? But now I think this place will survive.”

  “Too bad we don’t know how many undead are in the area. It would be nice to have a count.”

  “We don’t even know how many people have turned. I don’t think Dartagnan could even do the math with those variables.”

  “I doubt we keep our loss of ammo a secret.”

  “We won’t discuss it,” Wanikiya says.

  “Then a team must go now to Mexico, before the aftershocks cease and the undead turn around,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “Who do we send?”

  “A military contingent. Only because they’ve been trained to concentrate fire and not expend rounds needlessly,” the Major says.

  “Agreed,” Wanikiya says. “Which brings me to my next issue. What do we do with Private Amie Sanchez?”

  “Reporting as ordered, Major,” Sanchez speaks at full attention, holding her salute at the committee.

  “For a soldier whose first mission was a clusterfuck, you may have saved this compound,” Major Ellsberg says.

  “Totally against our standing procedures,” Wanikiya adds.

  “Permission to speak, Sir?”

  “Considering the gravity of your offense, I’d like to know the Private’s mind,” Wanikiya says.

  “It was the only way to keep the gate intact and prevent the undead from entering the compound, Sir.”

  “By letting them inside?” Major Ellsberg snaps. “What kind of tactic was opening the door and allowing the enemy to march in?”

  “I used the tank to block the bridge, gunmen to pick off any undead who found a way around the tank. I was the only person at risk of being bitten, Sir.”

  “You opened up the camp to invasion,” the Major accuses.

  “What I did, I did to control the incursion. After the river swept away most of the herd, we cleaned up the stragglers. We didn’t move the tank until everyone involved stripped and was checked for bites.”

  “We have but one option.”

  “I agree with the Major,” Wanikiya says.

  “Private Amie Sanchez, there hasn’t been a battlefield promotion since Vietnam, but the end of the world must allow for extenuating circumstances. I explain this because once we rejoin with the US Military, my recommendations may not stand, as I’m not the approving rank of General,” Ellsberg says.

  “I understand, Major. But I’m confused, Sir.”

  “I’ll prepare a document and my justification for your battlefield promotion to Corporal. You’ve demonstrated you have leadership skills in the face of this new world. I don’t know if any promotions I make will stick, and I won’t make you a Sergeant.”

  “Sir. Thank you, Sir. Are we going to be court-martialed upon our reintegration into the service?”

  “We were given orders by Colonel Travis. Someone had to distract the civilians, or none of the helicopters evacuating troops would have been safe.”

  “You’ve a hard sell. We don’t leave our fellow soldiers behind,” Simon says.

  “We know the truth. Travis sent soldiers here in preparation for protecting his daughter. He read the writing on the wall. He sent Privates so no officers would attempt to take over.”

  “The military left us to fend for ourselves, and in the eyes of a legitimate government, those might be illegal orders,” Wanikiya says.

  “There’s no reason to debate this. We’re here now, and we’re doing what must happen to keep this community thriving,” Dr. Baker says.

  “There have to be new rules to cover this new enemy. This council is the legitimate government, and with their authority, I’m justified in reinstating battlefield promotions when they are necessary or earned. You’ve earned your new rank, Sanchez. I need a Sergeant, but I won’t overstep to that level of promotion. Some of the men, and mean men, still have issues with females in command.”

  “I’ll make sure I earn their respect, Sir.” Sanchez drops her arm, completing her salute.

  Corporal Nick Jameson picks an empty brass case from a bucket full of spent shells. He inspects each one in turn.

  Hannah twists her blonde hair into a bun. “You need help?”

  “I won’t tell you no.” Nick drops the brass into a tumbler full of silicone sand. He selects another round. “I’ve got people separating the spent casings outside. These are all nine-millimeter.”

  She picks one up. “What am I supposed to notice?”

  “Discard any with cracks or excessive dents. No bulges and if they have deformed primers. We don’t reload those; they could blow up on someone.”

  She selects a casing. “No pressure.”

  “I thought you were on patrol?”

  “Don’t you desire my company?” she asks with a fluttering of her eyelashes.

  “I want the perimeter secure. And to finish what was going on in the horse barn before the earthquake.”

  “Me, too. The horses are still spooked. We came back to eat and take out a Jeep. Thought I’d spend my break with you.”

  “Thanks. I should go with you. Your father did entrust your safety to me.”

  “And he’d kill you for where your hands were on me when we were in the barn.”

  “You didn’t complain.”

  Hannah kisses him on the check. “We get Acheron secure, we’ll finish. I’m ready for you.”

  MARY SLIDES OUT of her white top and tosses it on the bed. She admires her naked breasts in the mirror before reaching for a bottle of baby oil on the vanity.

  “Don’t bother.”

  She spins to face the voice, leaving herself exposed. “Kale, your brother would not approve of you being in our bridal chamber.”

  “He won’t approve of much, Regina. But your attempt to rule here is at an end,” Kale says.

  “These people don’t trust you the way they did your brother. They won’t follow you.”

  “They will when they see what you did to Kaleb’s men.”

  “Milton betrayed me.” It wasn’t a question. It’s the only way Kale would know my birth name.

  “I caught him with a young girl. Guess you were occupied, and to protect his balls, he sold you out, Regina.”

  “She couldn’t have been too young. He’s not into children.”

  “She was a teen. You’re deflecting, and it doesn’t matter. It gave me a reason to gain the information I required. You
two had an unnatural chemistry. Kaleb was too enamored of you to notice. No girl ever rejected him the way you did.”

  “And you don’t desire these.” She squeezes her breasts, sliding her hand to pinch the nipple in a teasing display.

  “I have no desire to procreate with you.”

  “You a homo?” she asks.

  “No. I don’t bow to my baser desires. Knowledge is my lover.”

  “Then you’re smart enough to know you don’t have the charisma to bring Kaleb’s men to your side, even if you do have evidence against me. If you could win them over, you wouldn’t be here now. You’d drag me before the community and expose me.”

  “It would upset what I’m building here. The quake has destabilized everyone’s calm.”

  “And overturning me would cause panic,” she says.

  “I don’t know all the variables.” He tosses a backpack before Mary. “I want you to leave.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll expose you.” Kale points out the window.

  Mary slides to glance out.

  John drives a post hole digger into the ground. Armed men witness his struggle as he scraps at the hard pan some four feet down.

  Mary avoids glancing at the sweat soaked man. “And digging a grave is your form of punishment?”

  “It’s not a grave. It’s a hole. People are a resource and one we can’t afford to spend fruitlessly. I’m installing a whipping post.”

  “I don’t approve of such barbaric…”

  Kale shuts her down. “Regina, I don’t care what you approve of.”

  “I’m not Regina,” she snaps. “I’m the wife of your brother and in his stead—”

  “Regina—”

  He chews on her given name in the same manner as her mother did before she would blister her ass.

  “Dress in boots and jeans. I would select a flannel shirt, for the nights are still cold. You’re leaving,” he orders.

  “And the good preacher?”

  “Why worry about him? You convinced my brother the camp would have no more assaults on women. Our good pastor here was caught with an underage girl. And I doubt the proles would approve,” Kale says.