Reduced

by Robin Tidwell

  REDUCED

  Robin Tidwell

  Rocking Horse Publishing, St. Louis, Missouri

  First printing, August 2012

  Second printing, October 2012

  Third printing, September 2014

  Copyright © Robin Tidwell, 2012

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 10: 1479196134

  ISBN 13: 978-1479196135

  Cover design by Shannon Yarbrough, St. Louis, Missouri

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  www.RockingHorsePublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  To my fantastic husband, Dennis—who, from the very beginning with our first computer and through all the others that followed, still believed that I’d someday write a book.

  Yes, honey, now you can say you were right!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Besides my wonderful husband and family, I want to especially thank my awesome editor/proofreader, Peggy Linhorst, and my very supportive beta readers, LeAnn Areford, Bart Baker, Ann Hinds, Sharon Hopkins, Mike Williams, and Shannon Yarbrough.

  Special thanks to LeAnn Areford, who kept yelling at me to “finish the book already, so I can read it!”

  CHAPTER ONE

  She took the phone call out in the hallway.

  “No names. It’s time. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’ll be taking the side roads.”

  “Good. Someone needs to be picked up. See you soon. Good luck.”

  Abby tapped her Bluetooth and disconnected. She stepped back into the locker room and cautiously peered around the corner. The office at the far end of the room had the curtains pulled shut tightly; she knew what that meant. She closed her eyes for a moment, saying a prayer, but only for a moment. It didn’t pay at all to be unobservant.

  She jumped when the curtain in the shower cubicle to her right moved slightly. A scarred, bleeding face looked out, directly into Abby’s eyes, and a pale hand clutched at the curtain.

  “Go,” said the dying girl. “You can’t help us.” Abby turned and left.

  She hurried down the hallway, ever vigilant. Her ears strained for the sounds of the living, her eyes moved rapidly as she watched for survivors. Or anyone. Finally outside, she broke into a run for her black truck parked in the back of the lot. She scanned the area, realizing how glad she was to have stopped in this particular parking space earlier in the day; there were almost no other vehicles nearby.

  Checking both the bed of the truck and the cab before opening the door , Abby jumped into the seat, locked the doors, and strapped on the seatbelt. Making a rather wild turn and gunning the engine, she pulled out onto the road.

  Be calm, she told herself; you have to think in order to survive. Once you get to where you’re going, maybe you can relax a bit. Maybe. Everyone else will be there too; you’ll be among friends—old friends, and good ones. The best. Well, most of them. Probably.

  Abby raced down the street. There were a few cars on the side of the road, not many. Schools were still on summer vacation right now, but sports practices were starting up this first week of August. That’s why Abby had been at the gym, starting her coaching job for the fourth straight year.

  It was hot and humid, the sun bright overhead. Abby tried not to think of her boss and longtime friend, Deb, whom she’d left behind in that back office. She knew it was too late, even Deb had told her so. Get out, she’d said. Leave now. Go. And Abby had done so.

  She pulled into the first gas station she saw ahead. Quickly she scanned the area. Two cars at the pumps, unoccupied. One, a red Camaro, by the door to the convenience store, engine idling. She parked by the pump farthest from the building, jumped out and automatically scanned her card in the machine. While the gas began flowing into the truck’s tank, she realized that, in all likelihood, there was no one alive in that store. Certainly, she could see nothing from her vantage point.

  Impatiently, Abby waited for the tank to finish filling, wishing that she had a couple of gas cans in the back. She knew she didn’t have much time. Staying in one spot too long probably wasn’t smart.

  Abby clicked off the hose and, making sure that her .357 was tucked securely in the back of her jeans, walked towards the door of the convenience store. She opened it slowly, scanning the interior.

  Surprisingly, there was a clerk behind the counter. A live one. One who was functioning, and appeared to be perfectly healthy albeit scared to death. Of course, thought Abby. Everyone is scared to death. Or should be.

  As she walked over to a display of beef jerky and other snacks, Abby tried to give the clerk a reassuring smile. She began gathering packages of jerky, pretzels, chips, a few candy bars. In a quick moment, Abby saw another reason for the clerk’s fear: three other people were standing by the beer case. Her green eyes narrowed.

  They were survivors, yes. But they weren’t normal. Probably hadn’t been normal for some time, mused Abby, and it had nothing to do with what was happening now. The apparent ringleader was waving around a handgun and laughing loudly; he had slick, dark hair and pale skin. Eh, good-looking enough, thought Abby. Seems the two girls with him thought so, anyway. They were posing and giggling, couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15. For a moment, Abby almost felt sorry for them. Then they turned, all three, and stared at her.

  Her sympathy fled, and all her senses went on high alert.

  These three weren’t trying to buy booze, they weren’t just hanging out. They were evil, all of them, with soulless eyes and carefully blank faces, looking for trouble. Abby wasn’t thrilled to be the one to bring it to them, but she certainly wasn’t going to back down.

  “So,” said the kid, obviously younger than Abby by a few years at least. “What brings you here this fine day?” His sidekicks/girlfriends/accessories just giggled. “I mean, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here all by your lonesome?” He gestured with his sidearm, seemingly unaware of its presence.

  Another careless gesture of the gun, and the blond girl hanging on his free arm moved swiftly to Abby’s side, knocking the snacks out of her arms and onto the floor. Abby’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

  The second girl, mousy brown hair in her eyes, looked at Abby and smirked. But Abby saw something else there now: the telltale signs, in her eyes, on her face. The girl brushed back her hair and Abby gasped.

  In one swift movement, Abby shoved the blond girl to the floor and whipped out her gun. She shot the boy first; he was armed after all. Then she took careful aim at the second girl. Whispering, “I’m sorry,” she pulled the trigger. She’d heard what would be in this girl’s future and she wanted to stop it. The girl dropped like a stone. The blond was on her feet and running for the counter. “Stop!” shouted Abby. The girl spun in her tracks, and Abby fired again. It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Abby took several deep breaths and willed her heart rate to slow.

  The clerk stood up shakily from behind the counter. She’d disappeared as soon as the kids had started hassling Abby. “Are you okay?” asked Abby. The clerk nodded. “I have to go,” Abby told her. “I suggest you do the same. Find someplace safe.” The clerk nodded again, as Abby headed for the door.

  “Wait,” the clerk said, finally finding her voice. “Take whatever you need; no one else will be in today.” She smiled crookedly. “I mean, it’s all just going to sit here . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Abby didn’t need a second invitation. She grabbed a plastic basket from a stack near the door, looking quickly out the bank of windows for any new arrivals, and began loading it up with peanut butter, beef jerky, and canned soups. She set the full basket by the door and started filling another.

  Within minutes, she heard the sound of a revving engine and looked up to see the clerk’s car leaving the lot, gravel
flying. She ran outside and pulled her truck up to the door, loaded several baskets in the bed, then dragged out a couple cases of bottled water. She hesitated, then ran back inside.

  Knowing she had to keep a clear head, Abby resisted opening a cold beer from the case she’d added to her stash, but she did pause long enough to light a smoke before pulling out onto the road. Her hands were shaking. Three people. Dead. How many more, she wondered, before it was all over? And how many more would leave blood on her own hands? She had to make it to Emmy’s house. Alive, she added to herself, strapping on her seatbelt.

  Traffic was light. Duh, she said. At that moment, it hit her: the sickness, the death, her friends, her family, the escape, the shoot-out at the gas station. Abby pulled over, dropped her head to the steering wheel, and cried.

  Some minutes later, she stopped. Just like that. She had a job to do, probably several jobs yet, and she had no time to be sentimental. Or to remember. Get it together, she told herself. Now. So she did. She popped open a can of Pepsi, lit another cigarette, and got back on the road. Her cell phone rang.

  “Abby, where are you?” came a whispered voice. “Hurry up!”

  “Almost there, Emmy, hang on . . . about ten more minutes if all goes well.” Abby pushed the accelerator, hearing an edge of fear in Emmy’s voice and not liking that one bit. Emotions were running high. Both girls had forgotten the “no names” rule, but Abby was fairly sure that was a little overdramatic anyway. I mean, she thought, it’s not as if “they” know who we are anyway.

  The truck careened off the highway onto a lesser road, a two-lane blacktop. Abby righted the truck and pointed it in a straight line down the middle, really the only way to avoid the few scattered, abandoned vehicles on the shoulder. She pressed the accelerator, moving almost too quickly to take note of a few drivers slumped in their seats; most likely it was too late for them.

  She pulled into a gravel driveway, ready to click her Bluetooth and call Emmy, but the front door of the old frame house flew open and her best friend came rushing out towards the truck. Abby lowered the window just enough to push the muzzle of the .357 through. “Stop,” she said. Emmy skidded to a halt, and Abby studied her face, her dark blue eyes. “All right,” she said. “Come on!” She lowered the window so Emmy could check as well, standard procedure in which they’d been drilled the last few weeks. Just this morning, it hadn’t been standard at all.

  Emmy ran around to the passenger door. Abby unlocked it and relocked it almost in one motion, and stuck her gun back between her seat and the console. The girls hugged, clinging together for a brief moment, then Abby spoke.

  “Deb’s gone. And Sam. The rest are waiting.”

  Emmy bit her lip, her eyes began to fill. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “We better go.”

  Abby turned the truck around, pulled back onto the two- lane, and turned right, avoiding the highway. From here on out, they were fugitives from whatever-the-heck was happening and the lower a profile they kept, the better for everyone. Once they all gathered, the situation would improve; how could it not? Friends for years, those meeting today at the prearranged site came from all walks of life, each bringing a different skill set, yet all united by one common goal: survival.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The sun was in their eyes as they headed southwest out of the metropolitan area. The two-lane blacktop wound through the hills, thick trees on either side. Abby could remember this drive as a child, too excited to doze off as the car continued on for what seemed like a very long time.

  Years later, when she drove herself down here, she was always just as eager to arrive. Under the circumstances, this time she was more apprehensive. No one really knew what was going on, except perhaps Cal, and she had been rather secretive from the beginning.

  It was well into the afternoon when Abby and Emmy finally approached the old camp gates. The rusty metal hung crookedly and the stone posts were crumbling. It had been many years since the camp was in operation but, to them, it seemed like yesterday when they were last here.

  Abby’s phone rang. She tapped her Bluetooth. “We’re here.”

  “Yes. Turn off the vehicle and step outside. Keep your hands visible, in the air.”

  Abby complied, but left the truck running. SOP again, unusual until a few hours ago. “Now the other one,” said the voice in her ear. Abby motioned to her friend, and Emmy stepped outside too, careful to keep her hands high.

  “Abby!” boomed a loud voice, as a woman stepped out of the trees. “We’re so glad you could make it!” The woman stopped within feet of Abby, peering at her face, shotgun trained on Abby’s midsection. Another figure had approached Emmy, similar weaponry quite visible.

  Abby studied the woman’s face, just as cautious.

  Megan slung her shotgun over her shoulder and grabbed Abby in a tight hug. “I was so worried when I heard from Deb this morning.”

  Abby stared at her. “Is she . . .”

  Meg shook her head. “No. She called right before she . . . right before.” Abby took a deep breath and bit her lip.

  “Come on,” Meg said, “Let’s head on inside. No one else is expected for a couple hours and there’s a lot to do. Sandy here will keep an eye on things.” She jumped onto the running board as Abby and Emmy climbed back into the truck. Sandy pulled open the gates as the truck rolled slowly through. Abby could see her in the rearview mirror, closing them back up and covering the shiny new hinges. More security. Few would think that there was anything behind the old gates, but they were still functional.

  They drove past the old office and staff buildings, further into the camp itself, and crossed a rickety wooden bridge. The smell of cedar was heavy on the warm, still air. Off to the left, Abby could see the beginnings of a flickering campfire and a few tents already in place. Several figures moved around, setting up a kitchen area and a first aid station.

  Abby parked at the end of a row of vehicles, mostly trucks similar to hers, all facing out. She noted at least one sentry keeping watch, high in a tree near the bottom of the hill by which the campsite was located.

  The meadow itself was large and open, the center of the old camp. In better times, it was the place they all gathered to start the coming week, play games, and sometimes arrange to meet before a night out. The old fire circle was being put to good use once again, but the number of those coming together on this day had sadly dwindled.

  Meg jumped down and hollered for some help unloading. Several people hurried over and emptied the truck bed. Abby and Emmy knew most of them; too many, however, were missing.

  “Come on,” Meg said. “I’ll show you around and then we’ll get your assignments.”

  The camp had a simple layout. Meg explained this was temporary until they had a full head count. Later, they’d spread out and incorporate more of the property itself into a defensive mode.

  Two rows of tents were arranged parallel to each other. At the far end of one was the kitchen area, a large concrete pad with a raftered roof but no walls. Two stone barbeque pits were along one side, and a second wall held a plywood counter and several cabinets. Opposite it was the first aid station, similar in construct but much smaller.

  The campfire that Abby had seen upon their arrival was now roaring and was the central gathering spot. One tent, larger than the rest and nearest the fire, was the command center.

  They entered the tent, and were immediately enveloped in a hug from Calypso. “Abby and Emmy!” she exclaimed. “Two of my most favorite people!” She ran her hands through her short, red curls and waved her arms around. “As you can see, we’ve been busy getting set up, and now that you two are here, we can get down to business.”

  “Meg! Show these two to their tent and give them a chance to get cleaned up. We’ll have dinner in about 30 minutes and then come back here to strategize.”

  The three left the tent and Cal went back to her lists and notes, promising to make time after the meeting to catch up with them and hear their news.

/>   Meg took Abby and Emmy to their tent, just across from where they’d left Cal, then pointed to the low frame building on the far side of the meadow. “Showers are rigged up in the lodge. Sorry, three-minute limit,” she grinned. “Oh, and the water isn’t exactly hot . . . See you at dinner!” She stalked off, heading for the perimeter of the camp.

  Abby and Emmy walked back to the truck to get their bags out of the back seat and headed for the showers. A few short, chilly minutes later, they emerged and, after a quick stop at their tent, joined the others in the kitchen area.

  Dinner was served buffet style, some sort of stew and biscuits; Abby was so hungry at this point that she didn’t much care what she ate but, after finding a spot at a long table, discovered that she had little appetite.

  Few of her fellow diners were eating much. Most looked shell-shocked, and conversation was minimal. The only group who appeared even slightly animated was the cooks, mostly teenagers. A few children played quietly nearby in the grass. Several men were cutting and stacking wood, keeping the fires burning.

  Abby pushed her food around on her plate for a few minutes, then resolutely ate. She knew she needed to, she knew all the things that she had to do, she just didn’t really feel like it. Then again, she also knew that didn’t matter. Her feelings. She couldn’t afford to have any right now.

  Finally, she dumped her empty plate into a tub of hot, soapy water and made her way to the central campfire. She paused to warm her chilly hands. Even with daytime August temperatures in the 90s, on the inside Abby felt like a block of ice.

  She walked over to Cal’s tent and slipped inside. Cal was there, of course, and Meg. Sandy was sitting in the back, her feet propped up on a stool. Emmy scooted over on a cot to make room for Abby. There was an impressive rack of weaponry standing by the open tent flap. One by one, the others drifted in: Lorie, Ted, Noah, Janey. That was all of them. No one else. So far, anyway.