*****
Getting back into the school was easy. Surrounding the massive former edifice of public education the survivors had organized a wall of vehicles. Parked bumper to bumper in the same fashion cowboys would “circle the wagons” in. There were two spaces where they’d parked vans offset from the full wall of automobiles, and those served as the gates to the Westfield compound. On the roof of the school Lieutenant Daniels had two soldiers keeping watch for any undead that managed to get over the cars blockading the property. Every once in a while a dead person would get lucky and fall just right onto the hood of a truck or into the bed, and find themselves over the makeshift wall, but that was a rare occurrence. The former National Guard officer in charge of security had been very thorough about cleaning out the town of undead. It helped that he had huge diesel powered military vehicles and giant offroading trucks to tool around town, running over everything in. Those were gory times Ollie recalled.
He’d waved to the guard on the roof like normal, and one of the people inside the compound came out as he did a slow lap around the junkyard wall. That led the few lingering zombies to the other side of the compound. Once he was opposite the gate, he gave it some gas, and sped around leaving them far behind. He was inside and parked before the undead realized where he’d gone. They returned to their meaningless existence, reaching out, trying to claw their way fruitlessly through the wall of cars.
Everyone asked Ollie where Tera was, and just as he and his father had discussed, Ollie told the lie. He knew he was sinning for telling the lie, but he also knew his father was a wise man, and that a few extra prayers would help alleviate the weight of the lies on his soul. Some people cried when they talked to him. The soldiers got angry because they lost one of their own. They always got angry when someone died. It was their way.
After he’d dropped the fresh food off in the giant school kitchen Ollie ran upstairs to the art room and checked in on the pregnant ladies. He always liked saying hi to them. It made him feel better about the end of the world when he thought about cute babies. He secretly hoped one of them would be a redhead like himself. That would be neat. He also got to say hi to the girl he really liked, Melissa. She was a pretty girl, and a year younger than he. She had pretty brown hair, and wasn’t too skinny. All he could think of when he saw her was his mom. Ollie sure did love his mom.
Ollie told everyone the story, and said hi to the pregnant ladies and Melissa. Ollie meandered his way over to the room he shared with Sergeant Mike and a few of the soldiers. Sergeant Mike was the second in command of the remaining National Guard soldiers from Westfield. They had mobilized in June when the dead people came back to life and helped get this group of people safe here in the school. Without Lieutenant Daniels and Sergeant Mike, Ollie was sure they’d all be dead.
After all, they wouldn’t have been able to empty the two grocery stores in town, or the hardware store, or all those restaurants for the food inside if it wasn’t for the soldiers. Not to mention the truckload of guns and bullets they’d stored here in the basement. Sergeant Mike said they had thousands and thousands of rounds of “five five six” which apparently was a good thing.
Ollie’s experience with guns was limited to squirrel and fox hunting with his dad’s .22, and the few times he’d had to take the pistol out to shoot a dead person in the head. Luckily Ollie had shot a lot of squirrels as a teen, and he had little problem shooting dead people in the head. As long as he said a prayer that night for them, he slept okay.
Ollie plopped down on his cot in the classroom he shared with the other men. The room had the faint odor of sweat, and dirty camouflaged uniforms were strewn all about. Just Sergeant Mike was there, laying down on his back and reading a Spiderman comic. Ollie had seen him read that same issue at least twenty times already. There wasn’t much interesting to read anymore, just what was in the library downstairs, and most of the soldiers wanted stuff with action and pictures instead of long sentences and stories.
“Ollie buddy, heard about Tera. I’m glad you were there for her when she needed you.” Mike sat the comic down on his chest and propped himself up on his elbows. He was a big man and Ollie always felt safer when he was around.
Ollie looked up at the ceiling and tried to think of a clever way to lie to his best friend. In the end he just closed his eyes thinking about it, and started to drift off to sleep.
“Stay strong bud. Get some rest.” Sergeant Mike rested his head back down and returned to the exploits of Peter Parker. Again.
*****
Sean didn’t fuck Melissa all the time because he was attracted to her. He fucked her because he could. She wanted more food, and for the low-low price of sucking him off a few times a week, or bending over and letting him go to town for a few minutes, he was more than happy to make sure she got a few extra cans of food here and there. It was only fair. Besides they had a million cans of spam and green beans.
He sat on the edge of his bed in the empty classroom filling up with morning sunshine and watched her get dressed. She didn’t turn to face him the entire time, and after slipping on his round eyeglasses, he fired up a cigarette. It was stale, but better than nothing. After a long drag he leaned back on the bed and watched her adjust the sweater she had been wearing when she snuck into his room late the night prior. The fading auburn colored sweater fit snug over her chest. She was a thicker girl, and more than likely the sweater wasn’t hers when the shit hit the fan. Plus she had nice tits. There was no doubt about that.
Melissa pulled her light brown hair back into a short ponytail and stood up. She slipped her feet into her small shoes and walked towards the classroom door to leave. From behind her Sean called out softly.
“Hey Melissa, you free the night after next?” Sean exhaled a long stream of smoke out towards the cracked window in the corner of the room.
Melissa tried to hide her disgust. “I’ll have to check my calendar Sean.”
“Well try and keep that night clear. Your stuff is there on the desk.” He pointed a finger on the hand holding the cigarette butt at the old teacher’s desk. Four assorted cans of food sat there for her to take. Melissa nodded without saying a word, and took the cans and left. It was just about the time for her to get down to the kitchen and help with breakfast.
The trip down to the kitchen took only a few minutes, and when she arrived she sat the cans on one of the long stainless steel tables they prepped the food on. Truth be told, she only slept with him to get Sean to give them the right amount of food every day. Melissa thought if that prick was any stingier with the mountain of cans in the basement they’d all starve. Everyone knew they had plenty of food to last into next winter. He was just holding onto the key to the storeroom to conserve his power.
Melissa got to work and started opening cans with the other ladies. They chit chatted, and as usual they all hugged her like normal on the days she forced herself to sleep with Sean. Every one of the girls in the kitchen knew she was doing it. It was their plan after all. Stacey and Mary were too young to send to Sean, and Lindsey and Carole were too old. It just happened that Melissa was old enough, strong enough to deal with the constant sexual predations of Sean, and still good looking enough to tempt the bastard. Every one of these girls would kick him square in the balls if given half the chance. He was such a tyrant. King of the playground sandbox.
Half an hour later after the food was all prepared Melissa saw Oliver McDowell come into the cafeteria. She watched him casually through the small kitchen window. She kind of liked him. He was a sweet kid, but very much a farm boy. He was a little behind the curve socially, so to speak. Ollie saw her and lit up. He smiled ear to ear and made a beeline over to her.
“Hi Melissa! It’s nice to see you this morning. You look wonderful in red.” Ollie blushed fiercely, bringing out the contrast of his freckles.
Melissa smiled at him. “Thanks Ollie, here’s your breakfast.” She pushed the cafeteria tray across the window to him. Breakfast was a serving of corned
beef hash, as well as a large cup of fruit salad. It wasn’t much, but it had enough juice to keep a body going until dinner.
“What’s for dinner tonight Melissa?” Ollie grabbed one of the stamped metal forks out of the silverware organizer and stabbed a slice of peach glistening with sugary syrup. He munched on it as she thought about her answer.
“Tonight we are having omelets with ham, but tomorrow night is chicken soup. The chicken your dad brought over will make for a delicious treat for us.” Melissa smiled at him.
“I’m sure it’ll be good if you’re helping to cook it Melissa. I wanted to give you this by the way. I don’t know if you remember or not, but it is Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t find you anything nicer. I hope you like it.” Ollie reached into his back pocket and produced a small locket on a delicate gold chain. Ollie smiled in a genuinely warm way, handed her the locket, and Melissa couldn’t help but smile back. Ollie turned bright red and walked away with his breakfast.
Melissa opened the locket and looked inside at the little picture. It was a photograph of a single red rose obviously cut out of a magazine. Melissa sighed. If they ever got rid of that asshole Sean, she might actually think about talking to Ollie more seriously about things. He wasn’t all that bad looking, his dad ran the farm that kept them in milk, bread, eggs and chickens, and Ollie himself was easily the sweetest man left in Westfield.
She was doing a lot worse giving Sean a piece of ass now and then for cans of carrots.
*****
The next evening the chicken soup had gone over like gangbusters.
“Girls you’ve outdone yourself with this soup. If anyone here deserves a raise, it’d be you all for sure.” Sean gave his slick politician smile to the kitchen staff as he sat his bowl down on the window counter. He took his circular glasses off and polished them with a small cloth he produced out of his pocket. He put the glasses back on once they were spotless.
Standing next to him was the leader of the remaining National Guardsman, Lieutenant Jeff Daniels. To the girls, he was just Jeff. “The Senator is right. This is pretty great stuff. If we could just figure out a better way to go to the bathroom here, we’d be in hog heaven eh?”
The girls let out a laugh. Despite being reasonably well fed and warm from the giant school furnace they still had to use buckets to go to the bathroom. Granted the handier men at the school had built pretty elaborate toilet seats for them to sit on, but it still meant they had to throw out buckets of human waste every day.
“You know Jeff, that’s a great point. Come summer time maybe we can look into getting some kind of working plumbing here. I’m sure we can rally some support for that work. We’ve got two little ones on the way you know.” Sean stepped right into the political support gathering for his project without missing a beat.
“That’s Lieutenant Daniels Senator.” Jeff didn’t care for the Senator, and his forcing him to refer to him by rank was one way of showing his disrespect. “And I’m sure we can get the work done. Ted had some experience working in plumbing. Hopefully we can work something out when the weather turns.” Jeff was always cold to the Senator. It gave Daniels the willies that no matter what, Sean’s damn glasses always obscured his eyes. The two men constantly argued over decisions.
Sean had done a tremendous job of organizing them early after the government and media collapsed. He was charismatic, smart, and could talk like no one’s business. He got the soldiers on board with securing the school, and got all the food collected and stored as well. For months he was a hero, and was loved by one and all.
No one at the school cared for Sean much anymore. He still had a few of the flunkies from the town’s old guard that supported him, but they were waning in their support for him. Everyone knew that Sean’s recent plan to torch the gas station near another group of survivors was a little dangerous. They had lost three people on that attack, and no one was quite sure what they’d gained by doing it.
One night around Christmas Sean and two of his right hand men were out doing what Sean called a “supplies assessment” in town. Basically they were heading street to street looking for houses and business that hadn’t been ransacked yet. When they were out, they saw fresh tracks in the snow heading out of town. According to Sean, they followed the tracks almost thirty miles to a private school that was pretty far out of the way.
When they attempted to help the people who had left town, Sean said they were attacked by the people at the school. During the firefight Sean said both of his men were killed by a group of attackers led by a mysterious man named Adrian. Sean rallied support over the next few days claiming that if they didn’t attack the people at the school first, they risked losing everything they’d worked so hard for in Westfield. He was convinced an attack would be made on them.
Sean assembled a group of people to assault the school with. He attempted to get Lieutenant Daniels to make the assault with his men, but he refused. Jeff said there was no reasonable threat, and an assault without suitable intelligence was pure negligence. The two men battled for days over it, and finally Jeff conceded that he would ski ahead to the school as a point man, and clear the road.
The assault was a complete failure. The mysterious Adrian had set an ambush for them, and Sean rolled his entire group of people right into it. Jeff and Sean had gotten out alive by the skin of their teeth. They’d lost multiple vehicles, an arsenal of ammunition, and almost a dozen people.
Since that day Sean had steadily lost the support of people at the school in Westfield. He had led them into a war they had no interest being involved in, and had botched the entire process every step of the way. Everyone knew it was just a waiting game for the next council elections. Many of the Westfield survivors wanted the young Lieutenant in charge. He had the support of everyone that still mattered. The women of Westfield.
Of the 39 survivors remaining at the school, 27 were women. Many had lost their husbands right after Christmas in Sean’s failed attack. There was little love left for the man in the corner classroom.
Presently Sean forced a fake smile and thanked the women one more time for their “culinary prowess.” He excused himself to deal with “council matters” and left. The women in the kitchen watched him leave with dagger filled eyes.
Lieutenant Jeff Daniels of the 809th Brigade Support Battalion was chilled at the women’s expressions. Something had to be done about Sean, and he suddenly felt that they couldn’t wait until the council elections in November.
*****
“Mike, sit down with me.” Jeff motioned for his second in command to pull up a seat at the teacher’s desk in the small classroom he used as his personal office. The burly sergeant dropped his ass in the seat and propped his boots up on the corner of the beaten old wooden desk.
Jeff poured two plastic cups of root beer out of a beaten up seven month old bottle. The soda was flat, but it was the closest thing they had to real beer left. He handed one cup to Mike and the two men sipped at the creamy sweet soda for a few seconds.
Mike could see the younger officer was troubled by something. He made the veteran move, and asked him what was going on. “Alright L.T. What’s swirling in your noodle? You look like your mom just told you your uncle was your dad.”
Jeff smirked. Mike always had a colorful way of using the English language. Jeff swirled the cup of brown soda, and replied carefully and quietly, “You think we can keep going on like this here?”
Mike’s eyebrows arched up. “Like what? Eating MRE’s and shitting in trash barrels? I’ve dealt with worse. You’ve dealt with worse yourself in Afghanistan.” Mike sipped quietly at his soda.
“Shut the door Mike.” Jeff tipped his chin at the open classroom door, and Mike hopped up and shut it. He trotted back and sat down after pulling the shade down over the small window in the door.
“Mike this place is disintegrating over Sean’s bullshit. He’s gotten at least a dozen people killed, he’s using food to get the shit he wants, and he’s fucking at least th
ree different women now. You know there’s a rumor going around now that he’s the father of Megan’s baby?” Jeff downed his soda in disgust.
Mike sat forward and looked at his nearly empty cup. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Look L.T. I’m not a big fan of that guy. I mean he’s a fucking pencil pusher. Before all this shit went down with the zombies he was a trust fund prick. His dad owned a couple of fucking appliance stores. So what if he went to Yale? So what if he can talk the ear off of anyone when he wants something? He couldn’t find his asshole with both hands and a flashlight in this world.”
Jeff weighed his sergeant’s words carefully. They were damning, of that there was no doubt. Jeff himself had lost faith in Sean’s ability to govern, and if Mike felt the same, then the rest of his men would likely follow suit. “Mike you think if push came to shove, the men would help us get rid of him?”
“Shit yeah. I think we’d have to beat them away with a stick to NOT help.” Mike grinned wide and downed the last of his treasured root beer.
“I’m not saying we’re planning a coup here Mike. Let’s make that clear. But if things don’t get better, then we may need to speed along elections. Morale is low and going lower, and that bastard at the private school still might make his move on us.”
“What’s his name? Andrew?” Mike asked.
“Adrian. No last name.” Jeff’s face was wrinkled up with worry. He ran his hands through his short blonde hair and rested his forehead on the desk. So much worry to worry about.
“It’s too damn bad Sean didn’t get killed when you led them into that ambush.”
“Yeah. I fucking led them right into it too. Shit in the road to blow the tires and everything. Mike if it wasn’t for bad luck…”
Jeff’s sergeant finished his sentence, “We’d have no luck at all.”
Midnight (Adrian's Undead Diary) Page 36
