by Edward Crae
“Max, Eric, Travis,” Cliff said. “This is Dan and Drew. I met them up in Oolitic. There’s some crazy shit going on there, but they helped me get out.”
“How’s it going, guys?” Travis, the older man, said.
“Travis here’s a doctor,” Cliff said. “Or, he used to be. Eric is his son, like I said, and Max is the resident genius.”
Dan and Drew shook their hands. They seemed pleasant.
“Where is Melanie?” Cliff asked.
“She’s pouting in the office as usual,” Travis said. “But I’m sure she’ll be out soon.”
“Speaking of Satan,” Max said.
They all turned to see another figure walk out the door of the nearby building. She was about Dan’s height, slim, and somewhat unpleasant looking. Her face was curled into a scowl, and her posture was aggressive and guarded.
“Who are these guys?” she asked, accusingly, as if blaming Cliff for bringing mutants into the gates. Her voice was just as unpleasant as her face.
“This is Dan and Drew,” Cliff said. “I met them on the road.”
Melanie shook her head, scowling even further and shaking her head in anger. “And you just brought them back without asking me?”
“They have supplies that we need,” Cliff replied. “And they need a place to go. They have weapons, too. Lots of them.”
“We don’t need any more guns,” Melanie said. “And we especially don’t need any more rednecks running around carrying them.”
Cliff sighed. Dan felt uncomfortable, and he noticed that Drew seemed to be shifting, too.
“We need more people,” Travis spoke up. “They’ve obviously survived for a reason.”
“Whatever,” Melanie snapped, scowling at Travis for a moment. Eric put his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground and kicking his foot. He wasn’t about to speak up.
“Do you guys have medicine?” Travis asked.
“Just about everything,” Dan said. “Whatever you might need.”
A dog came strutting out of the building, boldly approaching Dan and Drew and sniffing them. It also seemed unpleasant and growled a bit when it returned to Melanie, growling threateningly at the two of them like an annoying, poorly-disciplined dog does.
“We have plenty of weapons and food, too,” Drew added. “And other things to help us all relax and get to know each other.”
Melanie said nothing, but folded her arms across her chest and turned away. The dog followed, giving them one last smart ass look before skulking off with its master.
Travis snickered, shaking his head in disbelief. “She doesn’t like you,” he said, grinning. “But who cares? Come on in and enjoy the fire.”
“What’s her problem?” Dan said, truly repulsed by her attitude, and her face.
“She’s a troubled soul,” Travis replied, leading them toward the center of the camp. “We all are. But I think maybe she had problems before.”
The fire was small but cozy. Wooden deck chairs of various types were arranged around it, and there were opens cans of food here and there. Travis sat down on one of the chaises, picking up a bottle of water near him. Eric sat down in an arm chair beside him, still quiet. Max remained standing, nervous and darting his eyes around.
“Have a seat,” Travis said. “Whatever you’ve got, we can worry about it later. You boys look tired.”
Dan was definitely tired, and the thought of just relaxing in one spot for a while sounded good. He and Drew had been without a home since his house was destroyed, and even compared to the shit they had gone through to escape from Bloomington, being homeless was probably the worst part.
Now, with a place to rest, he might be able to get some real sleep—and a nice buzz.
“Hey Drew,” he said. “How about some beers buddy?”
“You have beer?” Travis asked, his eyes lighting up.
Dan chuckled, nodding. “Yep,” he said. “Like Drew said, plenty of things we can use to relax.”
“Come on, Max,” Drew said. “Help me grab some stuff.”
Max nodded, but hesitated, seemingly shocked that someone has asked for his help. “Alright,” he said. “But I feel I must warn you, I’m not very gifted in the strength department.”
Dan grinned at Drew as the two left. Max seemed like an odd person, with an odd manner of speaking. His voice and his movements were somewhat robotic and awkward, as if not used to socializing. He was probably a gamer, or a comic book collector.
“He’s a little weird,” Cliff said. “But he’s alright. He’s a real smart dude, and he got me out of some trouble before we came here.”
“What about you, Eric?” Dan said, looking over to the big guy.
Eric smiled slightly, keeping his head down. Travis chuckled, slapping him on the knee.
“Eric’s alright, too,” he said. “He’s just a little quiet. A gentle giant. He’s always been that way; an ogre with a heart of gold that wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“That could be dangerous,” Dan said.
“I can be dangerous when I need to be,” Eric said. “I just don’t like it.”
“He’s scared shitless of guns,” Cliff said. “He could probably rip an 80mm cannon off a tank and throw it a hundred yards. But try to get him to shoot one… MmmMmm.”
Eric’s face reddened as everyone laughed. Travis gave him another pat on the knee. Drew and Max returned with a few bags and set them down, taking a seat. Travis’ eyes lit up when Drew pulled out a bottle of Miller High Life and handed it to him.
“Oh my,” Travis said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these.”
“Drink up, buddy,” Dan said, taking one and cracking it open.
Drew handed one to Max, who shook his head and stuck his lip out. “I do not partake,” he said.
Drew shrugged and took a seat. Dan leaned forward to warm his hands by the fire. He could hear Travis taking a swig and letting out a satisfied sigh.
“That’s good,” Travis said. “A little warm, but good.”
“I never drank much,” Eric said softly. “But when I did it was usually something like this.”
“Melanie’s not gonna like this at all,” Cliff said.
Dan took another swig. Inside, he could feel the urge to pop a few pills; that little twinge in the stomach that cried out for opiates. He ignored it for the moment, hoping he would find the time later. Or maybe he could sneak off for a minute and go back to the Hummer. For now, he leaned back in his chair, enjoying the night. The fire was cozy, the sky was clear, and for the first time in a while he felt comfortable with other people.
He looked around the camp as the others laughed and talked. The sheds where everyone slept were arranged in random fashion, it seemed; not very strategically placed. He was sure it had something to do with privacy, but knew that the camp would be much more secure if the sheds were arranged in a circle by the fire. The infected would be able to see the fire the way everything was arranged now. But if the sheds were all around it, at least their bulk would mask most of the glow.
“Where does Melanie sleep?” he asked.
“In the office,” Cliff replied. “Just her and her dog.”
“What’s the dog’s name, anyway?”
“Mami, I think,” Cliff said. “Or something like that.”
Travis leaned forward. “It’s too dominant,” he said. “She treats it like a human, so it treats everyone else like a submissive dog. That’s dangerous. Always.”
Dan nodded. “Cliff told me about the two women that died because of her.”
The camp got quiet then. Eric lowered his head, swallowing loudly. It was then that Dan heard the squeak of a door opening nearby. He turned to look, seeing a silhouetted figure in the doorway of one of the sheds. It was female, and outlined by a lantern within.
“Is that Lena?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Cliff said. “That’s her. She’s a nice lady. Single mother. Her kid’s name is Toby. He must be asleep.”
Dan stared at
her as she stood there. She seemed reluctant to come out, as if she realized there were more people than before. Dan stuck his hand up to wave. She barely returned the gesture, and folded her arms across her chest.
“She doesn’t talk much either,” Travis said. “She’s had a hard life. Had Toby when she was thirty nine. His father left shortly after he was born, leaving her behind to jump around from place to place with abusive men who smacked her around. The kid, too.”
Dan knew that type. Well, those two types. There were the typical women who just had really bad taste and judgment, and the other type who were simply gluttons for punishment. He wondered which type Lena was.
“How old is the kid?” he asked.
“Ten,” someone said. He wasn’t sure who.
Dan looked back to the fire, getting lost in the flames. He thought about the women he had met in his life, those chicks who were unable to figure out what they really wanted. Those who had no sense of self-worth; who thought they deserved abuse or neglect. It was sad, really. What was even sadder is that a lot of them had children, and didn’t have the sense to stay away from men who would not only treat them like shit, but their kids, too. Maybe it was some thought that they were unable to care for themselves, so they had to stick with men who could support them, and would do so no matter how badly they were treated.
“So,” Travis said. “Where are you guys from?”
Dan swigged his beer. “South of Martinsville,” he said. “Off of 37. But born in California.”
Travis chuckled. “What the hell possessed you to come to Indiana?”
He thought about it for a moment. He didn’t really have much choice in the matter; he had nowhere else to go. “I like guns,” he said, finally.
He saw Travis grin.
“I’m from Indy,” Drew said. “Worked in Bloomington a lot in the past few years.”
Dan looked over at Cliff, who seemed to have nodded off. He lay back in his lounge with his mouth hanging slightly open. That was a good idea. It had been a while since Dan had gotten any real sleep. He could probably use it, but there was that feeling of insecurity in the air that just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just the creatures, either, he realized. It was also the presence of someone who wasn’t liked by the rest of the group.
He wasn’t sure where they would sleep anyway.
“So,” he said. “You guys sleep in these sheds?”
“Yeah,” Travis replied. “There’s an empty one; the one over there behind Cliff. We’ll get you some sleeping bags when you’re ready to crash.”
“It looks like Cliff has decided not to wait,” Max chimed in.
“From what it sounded like,” Dan said. “He’s been out there a while.”
“Cliff’s the only one here besides me that knows anything about guns,” Travis said. “I grew up around them, in the south, but I’m too old to be going on runs.”
Dan looked over to Eric, who was quietly nursing his beer. “What about your son?”
Though Eric looked up, Travis answered. “He’s not a big fan of violence,” he said. “I tried to teach him what I knew, but he was more into gardening and all that hippie crap.”
“You need vegetables to go with dinner,” Eric said. “You can’t just eat meat.”
“Right,” Travis said. “That’s for sure. There’s not much room for gardening here, though.”
“There’s plenty of room,” Eric protested, glaring toward Melanie’s little building. “If she would let us use the tractor I could scrape some of the gravel out of the way.”
Dan sat up when he heard the news about a tractor. “If you guys have some way of moving of these sheds, I would arrange them in a circle around the fire.”
“That’s a good idea,” Travis said. “My shed is in the right place.” He pointed toward the largest one, which was facing the fire. “But that would better to have all of them facing each other. Then everyone could be better guarded.”
“Not only that,” Max added. “The fire would be less visible and more likely to keep everyone warm at night.”
Dan nodded. “So why don’t you move them?”
Nobody answered, but Dan knew. Melanie had probably come up with some reason why they couldn’t move anything. Whatever that reason was, he didn’t know, but it was probably something stupid and pointless. He didn’t know her, but was starting to get a sense of what kind of person she was; just a control freak with an inferiority complex. He knew the type.
“I am beyond tired,” Max said, breaking the silence. “I did my watch, I need to turn in.”
“I’ll take next,” Eric said.
“Dan, Drew,” Travis said. “I’ll grab you some blankets and sleeping bags for the night. We can search for some cots tomorrow.”
Dan stood, shaking Travis’ hand. “Thanks, man.”
Travis stared him in the eye, seeming to take on a more relaxed and happy stance. “It’s good to have you,” he said. “We need more skilled people.”
After laying out a large pile of sleeping bags, blankets, and other things from the Hummer, Dan and Drew lay quietly in the shadows of the shed. There was only the flickering light of the fire outside, and the small amounts of warmth that came with it. Dan had taken a few Vicodin, and was beginning to feel the comfort of it as he stared up at the wooden ceiling.
“So,” Drew said. “What do you think?”
“They seem like good people,” Dan said. “Most of them anyway.”
“Yeah. I’m not real sure about this place, though.”
“Me neither,” Dan agreed. “I don’t think they know about the other things out there. The shamblers and stuff probably can’t get through, but the Stalkers and whatever else we haven’t seen yet…”
“Right,” Drew said. “Those fences aren’t very secure against anything that can jump. And those fuckers could jump. Hell, even the coyote things could climb.”
“Well, if what the preacher said was true, maybe all of those things are dying.”
Drew snickered. “Probably not. How the hell would he know, anyway? I doubt he’s even left that church since the shit hit the fan.”
He was probably right. There was plenty of canned food there in the church, and likely tons of water. If those people—Mason’s people—had taken over the town when the shit happened, he was probably locked in there. Or, more likely, he locked himself in there. There was no way he could really know anything, which made Dan wonder how he knew about the Stalkers in the first place.
“Tomorrow we should show Max the Apocalypse Compendium,” Drew said. “I bet he has some kind of reference guide, too. Most genius types do.”
“Did he seem kind of weird to you?”
“Maybe a little,” Drew replied, his voice getting quieter as he drifted off. “But no weirder than any one of us.”
Chapter Nine
Dan awoke freezing. He was bundled up tightly in his sleeping bag, but still the chill bit at him like a thousand bullet wounds. His teeth chattered and his toes were numb, making it all much worse. Drew was gone, and the door to the shed was open as it had been left the night before.
Hesitantly, he sat up, pulling on his hoodie and boots, and went outside. The others were hunched around the fire, waiting for a pot to boil so they could make coffee. He looked over at the Hummer. Drew was in there, rustling around, looking for something. Dan ignored him, going to the fire to crouch around it like the rest of them.
“Mornin’ Dan,” Travis said. “Cop a squat and get some flames on those fingers.”
“Jesus Christ it’s cold,” Dan said, taking a space between Travis and Max.
“Cold as a mother fucker,” Cliff said. “But this coffee’s almost ready.”
Eric handed him a cup from across the fire. “Once the water’s done, you’ll get the jug.”
“The jug?” Dan repeated.
Eric held up a jug of instant coffee; something generic and unrecognizable.
“Mmm,” Dan said. “Prison brand.”
&nb
sp; “Hell yes,” Cliff joked. “It’ll put some hair on your ass.”
“I have enough hair on my ass,” Dan replied.
He looked up at the kid, Toby, who stared at him from across the fire. Toby was grinning strangely. Dan winked, flashing a crooked grin himself.
“Where did you come from?” Toby asked.
“The road. Me and Drew have been out there for a while.”
Lena grabbed the pot of water, pouring a portion of it in everybody’s cup. She looked up at Dan as she hung it back on the hook that was suspended above the flames.
“Travis said you were from Martinsville,” she said.
“Outside of it,” Dan replied, taking the jug of instant coffee when it was his turn. “To the south, right between Martinsville and Bloomington.”
“By the State Forest?” Lena asked.
Dan nodded.
“I know some people out in that area. Did you know Dennis Langley?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, taking a sip of his coffee. “He didn’t make it.”
Lena hung her head, pursing her lips. “I didn’t think so,” she said. “He and his wife were both sick already.”
“He was a good guy,” Dan said. “We made sure they didn’t get eaten, though.”
“Did you burn his house down?”
Dan nodded. Lena smiled sadly. “Good,” she said. “Thank you.”
Max cleared his throat. Dan hadn’t gotten a good look at him before, but could now see that he was slightly overweight, sporting a boyish face with equally boyish brown bangs. He had a look about him, though; one that wasn’t plastered on by thousands of hours of gaming as he would have suspected.
Lena was pretty. She was obviously older, about forty nine or fifty from the age of her kid. Still, she had a nice face, despite the presence of a few age lines and some gray hair. What stood out were her eyes; green and emerald-like.
Travis appeared just as he did the night before; a giant Jerry Garcia with the same hair, beard, and glasses the dead rock star always wore. Eric was the same size, with a reddish beard and short messy hair. He had a kind face that was freckled and slightly red from the sun.
