No Room In Hell (Book 3): Aftershocks

by Schlichter, William

  “Is he dead?” Nina asks her most feared question.

  “Ethan?”

  Nina draws in three breaths. “If anything might kill him, it would be an earthquake, but chances are, in the middle of the day, he was outside on the road and not in some building that would have collapsed on him. Chances are better than average he survived.”

  “We have no more ammo, and, if people think Ethan’s dead, this place could fall apart.”

  “Don’t bring it up and no one will think about that. If we go around saying he’ll be back, people will believe. I believe,” Nina says.

  “I know. We all do.”

  ETHAN LEANS AGAINST the passenger door of the SUV. Gentarra cuddles under his arm, her bare chest exposed to the night.

  “I never thought I’d be standing outside like this with my tits uncovered.”

  “You’re not a coy person.”

  “You would think. Still, this is nice. Something I never thought I would do again.”

  Ethan kisses the top of her head.

  “Smart of you to stash the guns in case you lost,” Gentarra says.

  “I never lose.”

  “He might have run you through.”

  “I’d have shot him.”

  “I had your guns.”

  “You’d most of my guns.”

  “What’s it like out here?” Gentarra asks.

  “The scariest scenarios imaginable. Be prepared, some of your people aren’t going to make it.”

  Gentarra asks, “You delivered a living baby from an undead?”

  “The mother died during the delivery. The baby still had a chance.”

  “But if it had turned while you were operating?”

  “Babies don’t have teeth. To become infected, the skin must tear, and whatever pollutes has to dribble in.”

  “We’d an elderly couple from Memphis in our camp. He died of a heart attack. He had no bites.”

  Ethan stares up at the stars. His hands slide under her bare breasts.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “The romantic answer would be being inside you again, but that is not a meteor moving across the sky, but a satellite.” Ethan points the reddish dot moving across the starscape.

  “Do you think it still broadcasting some crappie reality TV show?”

  “I don’t know. But it makes me think of the poor souls on the International Space Station.”

  “Do you think they are alive?”

  “It was made to last for decades. I don’t know how much food they have,” Ethan says.

  “I wonder if, when they die, they stay dead?” she asks.

  “I was having the same thought.” He cups her warm breast. “It’s been so long since I had this.”

  “I can’t imagine you haven’t had offers.”

  “I was thinking of the conversation. The sex was great, but to talk, and not about the biters, mostly.”

  “They’ll fill most conversations, but we’ve a new world to explore and speak about,” Gentarra says.

  “We’ll make a better one. The work-for-your-food system seems profitable,” Ethan says.

  “You could become a king to those people. My people.”

  “No. Eventually, an elected council. The number should grow as the population does, but always be odd.”

  “Maybe don’t elect them. Do some kind of lottery, or jury duty-style selection. People who desire power aren’t the best candidates for president.”

  “Lottery?” Ethan asks.

  “Put all the eligible candidates in a hat and draw names. Once they’ve served their year, or whatever term limit, they’re not eligible for the draw again.”

  “It doesn’t represent the people fairly or give them a representative voice. What motivation does the person have if he can’t get reelected?”

  “That hadn’t worked out so well before the end,” Gentarra says.

  “I can’t argue there.”

  “Most people should want to do well because after their term’s up they have to return to living under the rules they introduced or enforced.” She continues, “And you never know who will replace you. You piss everyone off, and you may suffer at the hands of the next council.”

  “You’re smart. I’m going to add you to my cabinet. We don’t need the council always turning over new members.”

  “Stagger the terms. And set the numbers for growth. Say you set a three-year term.”

  “We’re not keeping a calendar.”

  “Spring solstice is easy to recognize. People used the sun placement long before the Gregorian calendar. Make your first group three people. Offer volunteers to accept a one-year posting, a two posting and three. If they all select the three years, draw lots. Then you have a yearly election, and when your population reaches the next level for five, the next spring you vote in two more. Plus the one. Eventually, you have eleven or thirteen, some years you may have selected one person, others five, but you’ve your system. Write a mandatory revocation after ten years. Hell, if we’re still around then.”

  “Many laws should have an expiration date. Not bad. All your brain thoughts make me want to be inside you again. I’ve a thing for intelligent women,” Ethan says.

  “Government’s not romantic. I desire you inside me, too.”

  Ethan nibbles at sex sweat on Gentarra’s neck.

  “My first time, I mean real first time, when I was going to let a boy inside me with his Johnson, I lay there as he kissed my neck.”

  “Fine way to call out my method.”

  “Oh, you’re doing fine. Don’t stop. I’d let another boy kiss me before. But this time, it tickled. I couldn’t stop laughing even though I desired him. I wanted to know what sex was like. Some of my classmates spoke about how great it was, others that it was terrible and they’d no idea how anyone could ever let a boy move up and down on top of her. I’d like to know for myself. But he tickled me, and even when he stopped, I still laughed.”

  “You devastated the boy.” Ethan follows the curve of her shoulder with his mouth and teeth.

  “Yeah, he was rock hard, and later experiences would teach me to be respectable in the male organ department, but he must’ve thought I was laughing at him. He stormed out. Never spoke to me again. Never told anyone either.”

  Ethan works around her arm with each kiss.

  “I decided I’d give up my V-card. It was something to get out of the way. I turned to a friend of my father’s. He wasn’t as old as my dad. That would have been gross, but he was twice my age I’m sure. He kissed me, and I giggled. He didn’t get angry. He changed how he kissed until I relaxed and was comfortable enough to accept him.”

  “I guess it beats two virgins groping, fumbling, hoping you hit the mark.”

  “My point is, maybe Emily needs someone who knows what he’s doing for her first time, then she’ll move on to a more age appropriate boy.”

  “Wow. I share way too much with you.” He bites down on her nipple.

  Gentarra pops his back. “That hurts.”

  “So does this conversation.”

  “I know you need a few minutes before you’re ready to go again, stud.”

  “This isn’t exactly conversation I was hoping for. Emily might be close to sixteen now, but I don’t find it appropriate. Nothing along my trip to Memphis changed my mind to make me jump into bed with a young girl. And now I have someone of your talent. No jailbait ass has what you offer.”

  “Fine. You don’t want to discuss your current prospects, how about your ex-wife?” Gentarra asks.

  “Another conversation designed to get me excited.” Ethan frowns. “Why do you need to know about her?”

  “Sometimes dealing with other people’s problems over your own is better.”

  “She’s not a problem, anymore,” Ethan says.

  “Sometimes, in bed, it’s a three-way. Me, the guy and the ghost of the girl he was last with,” Gentarra says.

  “I dated one or two girls like that.”


  “What about the one you married?”

  “I couldn’t make that story up if I tried. She was a Russian mail order bride.”

  “You don’t seem the desperate type to have to select your dates from a catalog.”

  “Beats swiping left. But I didn’t order her. My neighbor did. He was this seventy-year-old man. He bought her. Or he thought it was buying a wife. He brought her over, and then she wouldn’t do whatever he asked. He got mad, delayed the marriage, messing up her green card, attempting to blackmail her to succumbing to his perversions. Without the marriage certificate, she’d return to Moscow.”

  “What did he… Better a butt fucking here than a butt fucking there,” Gentarra says.

  “I think it was more twisted than rough anal. I got the impression some BDSM mistress would blush at what he desired. I don’t know if she was willing to give in or not. The bastard up and stroked out on her. His death ensured she was going back. I, like a fool, was young and dumb and fell for her charms. She pretended to be my perfect girl. And I didn’t have much time to consider my choice before her visa expired. I married her. She should have a couple of Oscars, because she wasn’t who she pretended.”

  “How did she change?” Gentarra asks.

  “At first, it was a constant romp fest. We fucked for days. And every chance we had a moment. It blinded me. Once she conceived, it was done. She was pregnant, and then all affections ceased. She claimed it was hormones, but slowly I figured it out.”

  “She had to stay married five years to earn her citizenship,” Gentarra deduces.

  “I left out all the technical aspects, but yeah. And a baby would cement her here even if we did separate. In Missouri, you can’t even file for divorce until after the child’s born. She was golden. I was screwed for the next twenty years.”

  “But you had a baby.”

  “No, we had twins, and she used my love for those two girls to get whatever she demanded. It was why I was so far away working when the end of the world happened.”

  “And they were gone when you made it home.” Gentarra knows.

  Ethan’s body stiffens.

  “I’m sorry.” She kisses the closest patch of his skin she’s able to reach without messing up their comfortable position. “No one should have to bury their child.”

  “I only buried one.”

  Gentarra bites her bottom lip.

  “I’ve accepted a lot of this in the last ten months. I lie to my people. I use precious gas to search when they think I use shoe leather. I found one. It took all my love. I don’t know what their mother was thinking. She kept going to evacuation shelters, then coming back to the house. At least she escaped the evacuation before they were overrun, but…”

  “There’s a chance your other daughter’s still out there…”

  “I ran out of places to search. I put all my soul into it. I resolved to help and save people, hoping someone would do the same for her. I figure she’s alive. Her mother would do whatever she needed to have someone protect her.”

  “You can’t shoot her,” Gentarra says.

  “What?”

  “If you find her, and your child’s among the living dead, you’ll shoot her. I’ve seen you. You’ll kill anyone who prevents you or those you love from being safe. And not just the undead.”

  “Not a bridge I’m ready for, and if she’s alive, and my girl isn’t, then she’ll have a hefty toll to pay.”

  “You‘ll protect my people with the same passion?”

  “All the way to Acheron,” Ethan promises.

  “And if one of them screws up?”

  “If they can’t live under camp rules, then they’re free to leave.”

  “I meant along the way. Would you kill one of them if their actions put us is in danger?” She circles her index finger through his chest hair. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’ve shot more than one person whose actions almost cost me my life. I won’t hesitate. Out here is the new wild west, and none of the old-world rules apply.”

  Outside the fortified telephone pole walls of the camp, two semi-trucks with flat, long bed trailers house the belongings and people. Several support trucks and SUVs surround the semis.

  “Technically, each truck has enough gas for a four-hundred-mile trip,” Shayne says.

  Ethan checks the tie strap on the pickup. “We’ll burn fuel, and not every road’s clear. Plenty of unexpected detours. Does everyone have a rifle?”

  “And two boxes of extra ammo.”

  “I’d prefer everyone had more training with the M16, but we’ve wasted enough daylight. Time to move out.” Chad faces the super herd. I no longer notice aftershocks, even if others claim they can. Time to move before the biters break up or bridges are too damaged to cross. Ethan marches to the flatbed stocked with crates and supplies, checking more tie-down straps. Residents who claim they can shoot ride shotgun.

  Between the semis, a Dodge tows an extended stock trailer for the knights and their horses. Not my plan. I don’t like the horses trapped if the undead corner us. Most of the residents on the first trailer hug all their worldly possessions.

  Gentarra marches along the opposite side of the trailers, checking the tie-downs. “Interesting how Chet scrounged these vehicles up so fast.”

  Chet sits with two black eyes and his broken nose taped in the third-row seats.

  “Doing good there, Chet?”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Edwards.”

  “Glad to hear it. You’re my number one scavenger on this trip.”

  Ethan climbs into the driver’s side of the SUV. Gentarra takes shotgun. In the middle seat, behind him, Serena rolls down her window. “It smells like all-out vag. Hope you too got all your fucking out of the way.”

  Ethan ignores her.

  Corduroy buckles his seatbelt.

  “We may need to change up the people in the trucks to deploy quick to clear the road.

  “I can shoot,” Gentarra says.

  “So can I,” Serena says.

  “Not me,” Corduroy admits.

  “You might be better on the trailer. Keep your people secure.” Ethan turns the key. He waves his left arm out the window in a cowboy move-them-out gesture.

  “They were never much for having me around. They liked clean water,” Corduroy says.

  “You’ll find a place with my people.” He shifts into gear and rolls forward.

  “And the knights?”

  “We’ll use them, but they won’t have the same control. They’ll work and scavenge for the good of all, not only them. Your place might have worked if they hadn’t been selfish.”

  “You bring this up now?” Corduroy questions.

  “I’m being selfish. I need your people to complete the plans I have for my camp,” Ethan admits.

  “You never said what your plans are for us.”

  “Maybe make Soylent Green.” Ethan smirks.

  “Not funny, Charlton.” Gentarra punches him in the shoulder.

  “My people are constructing twenty miles of fence from the electric source to train tracks.”

  “You’ve an operating train. Brilliant way to travel,” Corduroy says. “Do you have the engine functioning?”

  “My people were working on it when I left. I don’t know how far they got. Can you operate a train?”

  “I understand engines. I would be of some use.”

  “You just became my second priority to get back to Acheron alive.”

  “Who’s your first?” Serena asks.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not me,” Gentarra says. “His people rescued a baby he feels responsible for.”

  “He told me about the baby.”

  “I don’t know if the way I told my team to take is the best for us. But we keep an eye out. Unless I missed my guess, the outer layers of the super herd will dissipate as the aftershocks lessen.”

  “That was the motivating factor in convincing our people to move. It wouldn’t hurt for them to witness, firsthand, the herd. Remind them
they made the correct choice.”

  “I’m all for tough love, but we get too close and bring the wrath of the super herd down on us, all this is for nothing. Better we stick to the plan.”

  “A plan only you know.” Gentarra never liked that part.

  “We move north. What else do you need to know?”

  “If I’m navigating, I need a better instruction than north,” Gentarra says.

  “Get us up Highway 63 until Thayer, Missouri. Then we’ll move from there.”

  “You want to go through Jonesboro?”

  “No. But I figure the undead from that city have moved into Missouri. The highways will be congested. Stick to smaller two lanes. With any luck, there’ll only be a few cars to push out of the way.”

  “If not?”

  “Then this thirteen-hour trip turns into days. I’m also swinging out a bit in the hopes the bridges aren’t damaged by the quake.”

  “I hadn’t considered bridge damage. When the bridges collapse, we’ll return to the lifestyles of the 1880s.”

  “Steamboats. Aren’t there dozens in mothballs along the river?” Corduroy asks.

  “There are a few that did tours. But even with 1880s tech, we still have to deal with the undead.”

  “Right now, you’re going to have to deal with the professor.” Chet breathes through his mouth.

  “Not what I was expecting. A bit psychedelic, even for Willy Wonka.”

  Clad in purple buddha robes, the bladed man, with a beard envious of most wizards, steps before the SUV.

  “You let this guy dictate policy?” Ethan puts a hand on the door handle.

  “Don’t shoot him.” Gentarra claps her hand onto Ethan’s.

  “You need to deal with him?”

  “Not anymore. He’s all yours.”

  Ethan slides from the seat.

  “You shall not pass!”

  “Really, Gandalf.”

  “You lead these people on a path to their death.”

  Ethan shoots Gentarra a glance of “how the fuck was this guy in charge?”

  “They’re aware of the dangers. But it beats starvation. I’ll give you one shot to gather anything important to you and bring the rest of these people with us.”

  He raises his arms like Moses parting the Red Sea. “I give my people one chance. Return to your homes and duties.”