“Girl, did Mike touch you?” Kelsey demands. I need Mike. I’ve never traveled alone.
The boy’s flailing limbs contact Mike’s filleted section of skin. The painful grunt informs the boy of a weak spot. In a repeat of slamming fists, Mike falls to a knee, unable to take the pain.
Water clouds his eyes.
The little girl shakes her head no. “But he will,” she blurts.
The boy increases his struggle. “Some men stopped before. They ate some of our chickens.” He goes limp, and in tears says, “In the middle of the night, they did things to us. To my sister. I won’t let you touch her.”
Mike releases the boy. “I never touch…any…child…girl.” He slumps over.
Mike drifts off. Kelsey keeps watch. He needs some sleep to drive in the morning. His eyelids droop. He fights to stay awake.
“Fuck.” Kelsey falls from the car. She keeps the gun on the boy as she uses the door to support herself. “Get something to put pressure on the wound,” she orders the boy.
“He’ll hurt us!”
Kelsey swings the barrel at the little girl. “If he dies, we all die. I need him to get to my home.”
The little girl grabs a towel and races to Mike. The boy struggles to roll a full-grown man over.
“Lady, take him to the plane!” the girl screams.
The boy gets Mike onto his back.
“Pressure on the wound,” Kelsey orders. “What about the plane?”
The boy lets go of Mike. “The men who fly the plane. They give us candy to pick rocks out of the airfield.”
“Put your weight on the chest wound!” Kelsey pulls herself into the El Camino. She must put the gun down to use both hands to put one leg in the car.
Mike’s chin falls to his chest. The pain shoots him awake. Kelsey presses on the gas pedal with the broom handle.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“I never touched those kids,” Mike mumbles.
“I know.”
“Where are they?”
She doesn’t answer as she steers the El Camino.
“Kelsey, where are the kids?” Mike touches the spot where the knife penetrated. The towel, duct taped, soaked with blood.
“I did what I had to, Mike,” she says.
“You left them?” I hope she left them. They were doing fine on their own, and might do this to someone else, but they are kids.
“No. I gave them mercy.”
“They were kids.”
“And the girl who tried to eat you?” Kelsey steers toward the airfield.
“She was older.”
“They turned on me. I had no choice,” she says.
Mike fights to stay awake. “I don’t envy what you had to do. Poor kids.” No one is a kid anymore.
“The last adults tried to take away their chickens. They raped them both. The boy said after they finished with him, they attacked his sister. They made them slaves. The kids cooked them eggs with rat poison. He was able to stab them while they were sick.”
“He told you?”
“Then he ran at me with the knife. I didn’t have the strength to fight. I shot him. She jumped me.” Kelsey unbuttons the shirt. The top of her neck and chest are covered in scratches. “I had to shoot one of my family after they turned. I could never shoot a child. My God! This world. I don’t want to live anymore.”
“All you’ve been through, don’t give up on me now, Kelsey,” Mike pleads. “I need you to find Acheron. Won’t I need you to get in?”
“No, but they’ll make you strip down and ask a lot of questions about where they cut away some of your skin. I’d bet they’d keep you chained to a bed until they’re sure you won’t die.”
“I need you to want to live.”
“I need you to live. The boy said they work for the plane pilot. He pays them in candy to keep the airfield free of rocks.”
Spike strips shred the tires.
The broom slips from her hand in a jarring bump. Kelsey’s limited leg control won’t allow her to reach the brake. The car slides to a stop, wheel rims gouging ruts into the blacktop.
Ten men in tactical gear and automatic weapons surround the El Camino.
“I’M HUNGRY.” GRACE tugs at Karen’s pant leg.
She scoops up the little girl. “If I give you a treat, you promise to be quiet? People can’t know we’re here.”
“The dead men aren’t here,” Grace protests.
“Not everyone in this city is nice.” Karen slips an MRE from her pack and tosses it to Kalvin.
“Why aren’t they nice? They’re safe. People who are safe should be nice,” Grace says.
“It’s not the native Springfield people as much as those who keep pouring in. They’re zealots. They think anyone not bitten are chosen by God, and this rise of undead is the end of days spoken of in Revelations,” Kalvin says. He hands Grace the cookies from the MRE.
“Really?” Karen snaps at him.
“She’ll keep asking unless you explain it to her.” Kalvin seals the open MRE in a Ziploc bag. “A better question is what about our stash?”
“You’re welcome to retrieve it,” Karen snaps.
“In the dark?”
“You scared?” Grace munches on her cookie with slow nibbles.
“Not if you’re here to protect me,” Kalvin says.
“Maybe we should send the little girl in,” Harley says.
“You miss your coffee,” Frank says.
“I miss coffee,” Kalvin says.
“You had coffee?” Karen asks.
“The hospital had a stash,” Harley says. “It was a perk.”
“You have it good here,” Karen says.
“No. This place is going to hell. They use the Bible as a rule book,” Harley says.
“How does that work?” Kalvin asks.
“What do you mean?” Karen says.
“Have you ever read it? It contradicts itself. God’s rules state no killing, but his followers never follow it and kill in God’s name.” Harley’s voice raises in register.
“You never struck me as atheists,” Frank says.
“Keep it lower. We don’t want to attract attention,” Karen says.
“Work a call where some father has abused his daughter and corn-holed his five-year-old son, and you ask why a loving God would allow this to happen to children who have no choices. Life flight an infant with cancer and you’ll ask where He is. Where is He now?” Harley breaks down, tears covering her cheeks. Frank grabs her shoulder.
“What’s taking Alec so long?”
Alec peers behind a dumpster. Where are those girls? I know they don’t trust me, but one is nearly naked and neither have shoes.
He hangs in the shadow along the right side of the street as he tracks east.
A trash can rattles as a cat meows and races across the street and up a tree.
Damn girls, where are you? I’m so fucked. If I leave, Karen won’t take me out, and if the girls are caught, then I am screwed in my position here. No talking my way out of here. He whisper-yells, “Paola…Sonya.”
A broken chair leg meets with his shoulder.
It knocks Alec off balance. He flings his leg wide to recover his stance over dropping to a knee. His gun slides from its holster.
“Easy.”
“You take it easy, cowboy. I have no trust in you.” Paola sneers. She raises the chair leg, prepared to brain him.
“Wait.” Sonya clicks the hammer. “I’ve got him covered.”
“Take me to my sister,” Paola orders. She lowers the makeshift club.
“It’s the plan.” Alec raises his arms. “Keep the gun, but you don’t have to point it at me.”
“You demand a lot of trust, cowboy.”
“I’ve got a bag for you. We need to get off the street and find Sonya some clothes.”
“This nighty has no protection,” she agrees.
“Move, cowboy,” Paola orders.
Alec shuffles forward. The girls tra
il behind, smart enough to remain out of his reach if he decided to lunge for one of them. He cuts down an alley, whispering, “The police station is the next street. We’re better off not being seen.” He pulls a backpack from beneath a dumpster, leaving it as he marches on. “It’s your clothes and gear.”
Paola unzips the pack. She pulls out a college sweatshirt. She hugs it, burying her face in it and drawing in a deep breath through her nose to soak in the fragrance. “Harley.” She strips off her prison top, replacing it. “I smell Harley.”
She drops to the pavement and takes out jeans and hiking boots. The mild trust Alec gained wanes. “These aren’t mine.”
“Your sister said they would fit, and you’ll need them.”
Paola changes in the middle of the alley. She tosses the scrub-like prison garb to Sonya. “Those will help until we get you something better.” She shoulders the pack.
Alec peeks around a building. He waves to Paola. “When I signal, run across the street. Head behind the building and wait.”
Paola grabs Sonya by the wrist, and when Alec drops his arm, they run.
Alec leads them through the backyards of dark houses. As they approach a lit street, he leads them into an alley. “I’ve got a truck parked here. This next section of town has people and power.”
“What about clothes for Sonya?”
“We’re on a timetable to get out of the center of town. Get in the truck.”
Paola climbs in, putting herself between Alec and the gun Sonya holds.
“Be prepared to duck.” Alec drives at a slow speed. “There’s a curfew.”
“Why don’t you have to obey it?” Sonya asks.
“Part of my job. West of Kansas Expressway has been cleared of people to keep power consumption at a minimum. I patrol it.”
“Why would you want to leave if you have a position of authority here?”
“Because I’ve seen the snake in this paradise.” Alec turns down a street and behind a strip mall. He parks the truck by a back door of one of the shops. “Try and find comfortable boots. They shouldn’t be snug. Your feet will swell the more you walk.”
“You want her to go in and shop?” Paola protests.
“We’re on a timetable. I had no plans to help her. Nothing will happen to her,” Alec says.
Paola slides from the truck. “Give me the gun. I’ll guard you while you get some clothes. Bastard man.”
Sonya hands over the weapon.
“Get a single change of clothes and extra socks. Remember, they shoot looters.”
“Harley, did you ever speak with your patients about what jobs they held?” Karen asks.
“Not much small talk was allowed.”
“I thought some might mention what they did before the outbreak,” Karen says.
“People were grateful the virus didn’t spread here. And those who did speak about it mentioned how it seemed to happen in cities across the country at the same time. Viruses don’t function in such a manner. I tuned most of it out. Lots of tears over dead loved ones. Hearing how they had to put down a child like a rabid dog leaves you cold.”
Frank checks his watch. His glance at Karen expresses how late Alec is.
“Kalvin, you want to scout our path west.”
He knows Karen wasn’t asking. He takes his rifle and marches deeper into the trees.
“We won’t leave without her?” Harley asks.
“No. I told you I’d go after her. But in…” She flashes her eyes at Frank.
“Seven minutes.”
“They’ll miss you, and they will search for you,” Karen says.
“Why did you people come here?” Harley asks.
“I explained—”
“To establish trade…you’re here for more.”
“We were hoping to locate someone who understands trains,” Karen says.
“Brilliant!” Harley glows. “How safe would you be on a constantly moving train? What happens if you don’t find an engineer?”
“Nothing like on-the-job training,” Frank says.
“Had you told me, Frank, I could’ve investigated. They were compiling a list of job skills,” she says.
“No one had train engineer on the list. I checked. No risk for you, Harley. We hadn’t established trust between us yet.”
The hum of a car engine tenses the group. Karen raises the shotgun.
After it shuts off, two doors open and close.
Frank waves his hand, extending three fingers.
Karen pushes Grace and Harley behind her. Frank raises his shotgun.
“Karen,” Alec speaks clear, but not loud.
She raises a hand for Frank to wait. They don’t know who the other two people are with him.
Harley doesn’t wait. She flings herself at Paola in a bear hug. They kiss.
“Oweee. They kiss like Mommy and Daddy,” Grace whines.
Karen holds her weapon on the strange girl.
“This is Sonya. I pulled her out before…well she was about…” Alec stumbles over explaining.
“I get it,” Karen spares him. “Does she know what she’s signed on for?”
Alec drops two backpacks. Frank grabs one. From the weight, he knows it’s full of water bottles. He doesn’t bring up the extra mouth they’ll have to quench.
“Anything’s better than what they were going to do to me in the jail,” Sonya says.
“Where we’re going, that won’t happen. You up for following orders?” Karen asks.
Sonya nods.
“Then we move.” When whatever giant wakes to discover Karen absconded with both his goose and harp, she must be well beyond the city border.
YELLING OVER THE diesel engines of two Caterpillar bulldozers, Barlock inquires of the towering Sioux, “When was the last time you slept?”
Wanikiya blinks his eyes until moisture softens his gaze. “There are still ground tremors, and I worry about the dam.”
Teams of people pull the undead bodies from the dog run at the main gate, tossing them on a flatbed, gooseneck trailer. Others stack the cadavers like cordwood as high as possible.
“I’m no expert, but didn’t Sanchez save us twice? She rid the north gate of biters and released pressure on the dam.”
“The engineers assure me there’s no structural damage.”
“Trust them and get some sleep,” Barlock says.
The two Caterpillar bulldozers dig a pit from the corner of the highways converging on the entrance to Acheron. They push away trees, creating a no man’s land.
“How many of our people are outside the fence?”
“Fifty.”
“Too many. And no way to bring them all in under our guidelines for inspection in case of an emergency. We do not have ammo reserves, and we’re making as much noise as an AC/DC concert. I’ll sleep when they’re inside safe,” Wanikiya says.
“Fifty working. I sent a team to scout. If we attract biters, they’re to radio and we move the workers inside.” He pats a flare gun. “I only had a single red or three green. Green flare means go inside.”
Chainsaws roar. A new team chews through the fallen tree trunks.
“We’re asking for attack,” Wanikiya says.
“There are thousands of corpses outside the gate. I don’t know why they don’t rot when they’re shambling around, but once the brain goes, they turn toxic like any decomposing body.”
“There are too many for a mass grave; burn as many as possible. Then cover over the firepit.”
“Clearing out those trees will increase security,” Barlock says.
A Jeep parks before the truck where Wanikiya and Barlock confer.
“We should be out there guarding.” Hannah drops from the Jeep, her legs not long enough to reach the ground. She swings her rifle over her shoulder. “We inspected the fence again. No damage. No holes.”
Bert joins her, followed by the redheaded Jessica. “We’re secure. Unless a massive aftershock occurs.”
“Earthquakes don’t
always dissipate, and the first one’s not always the largest. Sometimes it’s a precursor to an even larger one,” Wanikiya says.
“Then we keep patrolling, but until the horses have calmed, we’re burning fuel,” Bert says.
“Cut back your patrols. Unless we have another massive tremor,” Wanikiya says.
“Even as frequent as we check, we can’t ride every inch of the fence at once,” Jessica says.
“What we have will make us a target. The people who hurt Emily are dead. Two at her hand, and nothing anyone could have done would have prevented the assault. The gate was property over anyone’s life.” Wanikiya wonders if his Star Trek logic will be misconstrued as some ancient Sioux wisdom.
“I’ve no idea how to inspect building foundations, so give me a job. We could spell the guards outside,” Hannah offers.
“No. Your father…” Wanikiya stops his chastisement. “Your duty’s the inside fence patrols.”
“We’ve pulled too many off their jobs for cleanup,” Barlock says. “The lake levels have dropped. No telling what might be along the new bank.”
“Fine.” Followed by a typical teenage “meh.” Hannah knows they won’t allow her outside.
“When you report back to the community center first, check on Emily,” Wanikiya orders.
“The librarian?”
“She’s in the infirmary. The men who scaled the fence damaged her. She might need an ear close to her own age.”
Nick carries a table with crayon-shaped legs into the library.
Hannah follows him in. “What are you doing?”
“Making room for Dartagnan’s next project. He’s calm—finally. Dr. Baker sent him back to the farm. But they don’t want him to stay alone until Ethan returns.”
“Isn’t there anyone else to move furniture?”
“Most of the staff are cleaning up the undead. I had to take a break from brass inspection. I don’t want to miss a blemish. I was seeing every brass piece as deformed.”
“After you get the kid situated, are you off duty?”
“You want to grab dinner?”
Hannah hugs Nick. She runs her hand down the outside of his pants. “I was thinking more, like, dessert.”
No Room In Hell (Book 3): Aftershocks Page 17
