by Bible, Jake
Then I get it and, oh, the motherfucking irony!
“Bums,” I sigh. “We’re the bums.”
“What’s that?” Amy asks. “What’s he talking about?”
“Back where we lived in Asheville, our subdivision was walled and gated,” Stella explains. “Anytime survivors would come by, we would turn them back. We called them bums.”
“Now we’re the bums,” I repeat.
“What happened if they didn’t want to leave?” Amy asks.
“What happens if we don’t want to leave?” I respond.
“Point taken,” she nods.
She looks up at the sun and shakes her head.
“We better hurry if we’re going to get you all moved in and secured before night,” she says. “You don’t want to be exposed at night.”
“Is night worse than day?” I ask.
“That’s when the crazies come out,” Amy replies.
“The gangs?” Stella asks.
“The crazies,” Amy says, shaking her head.
“Oh,” Stella and I say at the same time.
Crazies suck.
IT TAKES A WHILE TO shuttle us all to Buckley Air Force base, but Nick and the other chopper finally get us moved from the hospitals and into a huge aircraft hangar close to the center of the base.
We got a good look and the fence system seemed to be in place when we flew over. That’ll slow down any Zs that decide to come hunting for a midnight snack. Of course, being an experienced survivor of the zombie apocalypse, I don’t trust any fence system. Not even one I design. Not 100%. Fences are always breached. Always.
The second chopper lifts off and is gone, heading into the setting sun with Amy, leaving Nick behind to tuck us in and sing night night songs.
“We’ve used this hangar a lot,” Nick says. “It’s a good place to get to before we make a push through Denver if we’re on foot. I’ve done more than a few repairs on my bird inside here.”
He points to the open hangar doors.
“Pull those shut and you’ll see the system of levers and bars,” Nick says. “It’s self-explanatory and designed so that even if it was only kids stuck in here, they’d figure it out and stay safe.”
“Of course kids would figure it out,” I snap. “That’s what kids do. Figure shit out.”
“Cut the crap, Long Pork,” Critter says. “Let the man explain how we’re going to stay alive.”
I roll my eyes, but shut up. Lourdes, Stuart, Melissa, Critter, Stella, and John stand in front of Nick as he uncomfortably starts pointing out the features of the hangar.
“Bathrooms are over there,” he says. “We keep rain barrels on the roof, so the toilets should flush. If not then grab a bucket from those shelves and do it manually. Water barrels are in that corner. Blue are potable, grey are, well, grey. Runoff and the like. Use that. Try not to waste too much, if you can. We’re in Colorado and things can get dry here. If it’s yellow, keep it mellow and all that.”
“Yeah, we’ve been living in the apocalypse too,” I say. “We get the conservation thing.”
“Long Pork, hush,” Critter snaps. “Damn, boy, let the man speak.”
I hurt like a motherfucker and I’m just not in the mood for the camp counselor speech. I’m also really pissed they didn’t even ask one of us to go up into the Stronghold and represent our group. Fuckers. They’re gonna have their little vote and ninety-nine percent of them won’t even have a clue that we are real people. Just anonymous bums put in an old hangar.
Nick keeps talking and I zone out. No point in listening. He’s doing his best to show everyone what the hangar has to offer, but really he looks like a guy that’s been playing with a stray dog in the park all day and now wants to get home to his real pets back at his nice, plush condo.
“Condo?” Nick asks. “I live in an airstream trailer with no A/C.”
Everyone is looking at me. Shit.
“How much of that was out loud?” I ask.
“Was there much before the stray dog in the park bit?” Stuart asks.
“Nope, not really,” I reply.
“Then we heard it all,” Stuart says.
“Sorry,” I say to my people. Not so sorry to Nick. Fuck this guy.
“Still out loud,” Stuart says.
“Dammit!” I yell then wince as daggers made of glass rip through my head.
Nick looks at me like I’m the wild homeless guy outside McDonald’s. I don’t blame him.
“If you have radios, stay off them,” Nick says. “Seriously, folks, stay off them. The last thing you want is for any of the crazies, or others, to zero in on your location. And they will. The dead aren’t the only ones that like to hunt.”
“We can help clear them out for you,” Lourdes says. “Clear out the crazies and the others. We have worth beyond just adding to your numbers. I doubt you have folks trained like us.”
“Ain’t nobody trained like us,” Elsbeth says, as she saunters up to us. She smacks John on the ass and gives him a huge smile. “You. Me. Later. Yum.”
Then she turns around and walks away.
“Hey! El!” I call out. “Wait up!” I glance at Nick. “We done here?”
“Yeah,” Nick says. “I know Amy told you we’d have the vote first thing in the morning. So expect a chopper to arrive sometime in the afternoon. We’ll bring some food along, no matter what the outcome of the vote. We aren’t cruel people, just cautious.”
“Understood,” Lourdes says. “And thank you for letting us keep our weapons. Not all groups would have done that.”
“What would have happened if we’d tried to take them away?” Nick asks.
“Nothing good,” Lourdes admits.
“Then letting you keep them is better for everyone,” Nick says. He starts to say more then nods, turns, and walks out of the hangar.
“Bye now!” I call out.
“What you want, Long Pork?” Elsbeth asks, grabbing my wheelchair and rolling me towards the back of the hangar.
“I want to talk about the help we got today,” I say. “Those shooters that thinned the Zs out for us.”
We get to the bathroom door and Elsbeth turns us around and pushes the door open with her back as she wheels me in backwards.
“Uh, El? You need to use the bathroom?” I ask.
“Yep,” Elsbeth says and parks me in front of a stall. “We can talk while I go.”
I don’t care. I’m used to it. Jesus, El’s dropped trou and pissed in front of me a hundred times. At least now I’ll have the stall door between us.
“Were those your sisters helping us?” I ask. “They sure did know how to shoot.”
“Lots of people know how to shoot, Long Pork,” Elsbeth replies as her pants hit the ground and I hear her settle in on the commode. “This is America. Ain’t no shortage of shooters. Nope.”
“This is the apocalypse, El,” I reply. “Plenty of shortage of— Jesus! Are you taking a shit?”
“Yep,” she replies. “Feels good to use a toilet. I’m tired of digging holes.”
“Damn, El,” I say as I cover my nose. “Warn a guy next time, will ya?”
The bathroom door opens and Dr. McCormick walks in. She sees me outside the stall, hears Elsbeth doing her business, then turns around and walks back out. I’d go with her, but a one-armed man is useless with a wheelchair as we have established. I ain’t going nowhere.
“Be straight and tell me if those were your sisters, please,” I say. “Stop being all secretive and shit. I need an actual answer.”
She flushes and opens the stall, her pants still around her ankles. At least she pulled up her underpants. She smiles at me, moves past, and tries one of the sinks, but it doesn’t turn on. She sighs heavily as if this is the biggest disappointment in her life.
“You can wash up outside,” I say. “But first, answer my question.”
Elsbeth looks at me for a while then nods.
“Sure,” she says. “They were probably my sisters. I can’t say f
or sure, though, Long Pork. I was busy killing Zs. All I saw was heads going pop, pop, pop.”
“You said back at the bookstore that your sisters were waiting for the signal,” I say. “What signal? Why wait? Why not join us now?”
“Long Pork, you sure are dumb,” Elsbeth says. “What happens if they join us?”
“Uh, we add some bad asses to our numbers?” I reply.
“Nope,” she says and shakes her head. “They get stuck. You and Stella. Critter and Lourdes. Stuart. Even John. Everyone will want them to do as they’re told. Everyone will want them to fall in line like nice little soldiers. We ain’t soldiers, Long Pork. We is people.”
“Stop with the we is and we ain’ts,” I say. “I know you only do that for effect.”
“Maybe,” Elsbeth shrugs. “Maybe nots.”
“Funny,” I sigh. “So your sisters are just going to stay out there on their own? For how long? Do they ever plan on joining us?”
“I don’t think so,” Elsbeth says. “We’ve decided that outside is better for everyone. Too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous? For us or for them?” I ask. “Never mind, you’ve pretty much answered that already. But, apparently, not too dangerous for you to use my boy as bait.”
Elsbeth waves me off and walks by. “Let that go, Long Pork,” she says as she gets to the door. “Charlie did good. Be proud.”
She opens the door and walks out.
“Hey!” I yell. “Where are you going?”
She ducks back in and grins at me then waves her hands about.
“Poopy hands,” she says. “Gonna go wash then come get you. Unless you want me to grab your wheelchair with poopy hands?”
“Nope, I’m good,” I say. “Go get clean, but don’t forget about me.”
She smirks and is gone. After a minute, Dr. McCormick comes back in.
“Why are you still here?” she asks.
“Elsbeth had poopy hands,” I say. “She’s going to wash up.”
She grabs my wheelchair and rolls me outside the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I say as the door shuts.
I look around and everyone is getting out sleeping bags and other gear they find stacked against the walls. Elsbeth is nowhere to be seen.
Dammit, she totally forgot about me.
“DADDY? YOU AWAKE?” Greta whispers.
“Yep,” I reply. “Can’t really sleep this way.”
I’m propped up with a sleeping bag over me with my back against a stack of crates. Stenkler still insists I have to sleep sitting up. I’m sure Kramer would have agreed, but he never made it to the hangar. Amy made sure he stayed in the chopper and went back to the Stronghold with her.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” I ask.
I glance around and it doesn’t look like our talking is disturbing anyone. We are hardly the only ones still awake. Candles burn here and there, along with some hand crank flashlights that are getting dimmer as the night goes on and people get tired of cranking. There are small pockets of our people having hushed conversations while others are bundled up to their ears in sleeping bags, trying to get some sleep and stay warm at the same time.
The hangar isn’t heated, which makes sense since it would take a shit ton of energy, or firewood, to heat such a huge space.
“What happens if they don’t let us stay?” Greta asks. “Do we take the convoy and keep going?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I honestly don’t. There are a lot of factors to think about. Number one being getting up over the Rockies in winter time. I have a feeling the passes haven’t exactly been kept clear by the DOT.”
“We could go south,” Charlie suggests, joining the conversation. He’s in a mummy bag and all I can see are his mouth and nose. “Go down through New Mexico into Texas then across to the West Coast.”
“Then what?” Greta asks.
“Kids, don’t worry about it,” Stella says, her voice sleepy. “Just close your eyes and get some rest. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“I can’t rest,” Greta says. “I have to know what’s going to happen.”
“Me too,” Charlie says. “At least we have the sisters watching our backs.”
“Hey, about the sisters,” I start.
“Nope,” Charlie says. “El said she’d cut my nuts off if I talk to you about them. She looked really serious when she said it and I really like my nuts where they are.”
“She’d never cut your nuts off,” I reply. “And I’m not sure I like her threatening to cut someone’s nuts off.”
“She threatens to cut yours off all the time,” Greta says.
“But that’s me,” I say. “I’m not cool with her saying it to your brother.”
“I know she won’t cut my nuts off,” Charlie says. “But I’m not going to break my word and tell you what I know. You’ll just fuck it all up anyway.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. Stella chuckles. “What’s so funny?”
“He’s right,” Stella says. “If El has a reason for you not to know about something then you should respect that. Odds are you will fuck it all up.”
“I am highly offended by the lack of support from my family right now,” I say. “Highly offended. So offended that I might just move someplace else and sleep all alone.”
There are a couple of hushes from those close by that are trying to sleep.
“I don’t think there’s anywhere to go, Dad,” Charlie whispers. “And good luck getting there if you do go.”
“Fuckers,” I mumble.
I wait, but my family doesn’t say anything else and soon all of them are asleep, their breathing nice and even. It says a lot that we are all at a place in our lives during this zombie apocalypse that my family can drift off and sleep while we are basically captives in a strange place.
Sure, we could open the hangar and all leave, so we aren’t really captives. But our vehicles are back in Denver, along with most of our gear. We wouldn’t last very long out there without some serious supplies. Not in this environment and not during the winter. Nope, we’re rats in a cage with the door open and a bunch of cats sitting outside waiting for us to make our move.
Rats in a cage... Hmmm... There’s something there. It stirs an idea—
“Shut up,” someone moans and a few voices echo the sentiment.
“Sorry,” I whisper loudly. “My bad.”
THERE ARE ONLY THE core handful standing outside the hangar when the chopper lands. Mainly because we know the chopper will draw attention to us and even though the hangar is well away from the fence line, we don’t want to risk a bunch of Zs catching site of a crowd of people and suddenly thinking it’s buffet time.
Also, it’s chilly as fuck out and the wind is cutting hard. Our people ain’t dumb. They know when to stay out of the cold.
We can all tell how the vote went as soon as Amy hops down out of the chopper. Her face is set and her mouth is a hard line. She’s wearing aviator glasses, so it’s impossible to see her eyes, but I’m sure I can guess what look she’s giving us.
Pity.
“Let’s get inside out of this shit,” Amy says as she reaches us. “We need to talk.”
“Just lay it on us straight, lady,” Critter says. “We in or we out?”
“Inside,” Amy says as the chopper powers down behind her.
It’s not Nick flying today. They sent the B team pilot.
Yeah, I am pretty sure we’re out.
Critter grumbles some more, but Stella nods to the hangar and starts walking. Amy is right on her heels. Stuart pushes me, with Melissa, Lourdes, John, and Buzz close behind. We get inside and the hushed conversations going on end instantly. All eyes are on us and I can see Amy squirm. I have a feeling she wishes she’d brought some backup in case things get nasty.
Stella is obviously thinking the exact same thing as she says, “Just be honest and I’ll make sure no one blames you and gets out of hand.”
“I appreciate that,” Amy says. “I took a huge
risk even coming back here to talk to you in person. But my vote was for you to stay, so I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror if I chickened out and dropped a note as we did a fly by.”
“What kind of note?” I ask. “Because if it was written on a bowling ball then that would have been cool.”
“It would shatter on impact, Dad,” Charlie says. “Bowling balls aren’t indestructible.”
“Leave it,” Stella says as I get geared up for a pointless debate. “Amy? Tell us what you need to so we can get on with things and start planning.”
“First, let me say that it was close,” Amy begins, all attention locked onto her. “It was almost an even split down the middle. But, there were enough nays that we didn’t bother with holding a second discussion like we sometimes do on close calls.”
She takes off her sunglasses and I can see she is genuinely upset that the vote didn’t go in our favor.
“I’m going to lay out the reasons why so you know what happened then I’m going to list your options as we see them,” she says. “I’m hoping you listen to my advice since I know this area and I know what you can and can’t do.”
“Sounds fair,” Stella says. There are some grumbles, but as soon as she holds up a hand the grumbles quiet down. “Why were we rejected?”
Amy’s eyes go to Mr. Flips immediately and he nods. We all nod.
“You just can’t fight prejudice,” Mr. Flips says, doffing his hat towards Amy. He dons it quickly and doesn’t say anything after that, respectfully taking a few steps back and waiting for her to finish.
“It’s not just the cannibals,” she says. “There are several other reasons. I don’t have time to go into things, but you have to know how sorry I am we can’t accommodate your people.”
“We’ll need Kramer back,” Lourdes says.
There are a couple groans. Okay, there is one loud, long groan. It comes from me.
“He’s an asset we cannot give up,” Lourdes responds to my epic groan. “He has medical and scientific skills that are essential to our survival.”
