Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  Libby Horton was holding her brother’s blue trilby hat, endlessly twisting it in her hand. It had blood on the brim, a gruesome reminder of the boy’s sad death. After the sheriff finished speaking, Shane said a brief prayer. He wasn’t much of a praying man, though Jodi knew he had some ill-defined faith in a higher power. Still, he managed something almost eloquent, and then the funeral was over. It lasted all of ten minutes, and while Jodi thought David Horton deserved better, it was all they had.

  Libby started to toss the trilby into the open grave, but her sister Amelia reached over and stopped her. Then the men began scooping dirt into the grave. Once the crowd of mourners began to break up, Jodi spotted Mayor Frank Zion. He’d been standing quietly at the base of an ancient oak tree, but now he moved toward Owen. Jodi hurried to intercept him.

  “Do you have to do this now?” she asked.

  “Sorry, but I think so,” Frank replied, pulling a small notebook and a golf pencil out of his vest pocket. “While the memories are still fresh.”

  Owen saw him coming and said something to Amelia. The Horton girls frowned and retreated together toward a picnic table near the cars.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Frank said, flipping open his notebook. Jodi’s son rose up tall, as if to intimidate the mayor. “I’ve heard from everyone else who was present that day. I need your testimony.”

  “Why?” Owen said, sharply. “What difference does it make?”

  “Well,” Frank replied, shaking his head in obvious frustration. “I have to put together kind of official report so we can figure out what to do about the murder of David Horton.”

  “You’re not a military commander or a cop,” Owen said, in a bitter voice that Jodi had never heard from him before. “Why does anyone need an official report from you?”

  Jodi could see this conversation spiraling out of control, so she put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and patted him. “Owen, it’s okay. He’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just doing his job. Tell him what you remember and get it over with.” She hated taking Frank’s side, especially after all the trouble he’d been causing her mother, but it was the right thing to do.

  “I don’t have anything to add,” Owen said. “A bunch of guys rode into the parking lot on motorcycles and started shooting at us. The lead guy was huge, and he had a big scar on his face.” He traced the line of the leader’s scar on his face with his finger.

  Suddenly, someone behind Jodi wailed, as if in agony. Jodi spun around to find Marna, Violet’s tent camp friend, collapsing to the ground as her husband tried to hold her up. She’d put on a dress of dark gray, something more appropriate for mourning perhaps. Her husband, Brad, had done likewise with a dark brown shirt and gray sweatpants. At first, Jodi thought the sadness of David’s death had gotten to her, and she wondered if the woman had ever met the Hortons. It seemed a strange overreaction.

  “Did you hear that?” Marna said, pointing at Owen. “Did you hear what he said?”

  Brad helped her regain her feet, and she stumbled toward Owen, wagging her finger at him.

  “You said a man on a bike with a big scar on his face,” she said. “That’s what you said?”

  Owen glanced at his mother, blinking in confusion. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Brad,” she said to her husband, clinging to his shirt. “Oh, no. It’s him. It’s him.”

  “That sounds like the leader of the gang that took our whole neighborhood hostage in Albany,” Brad explained, wrapping his arms around his wife. “He’s in downtown Macon now? That’s way too close. He must be looking for a new place to loot and pillage.”

  “What if he comes here?” Marna said, dabbing her eyes with the end of her sleeve. “What if he followed them somehow and he knows where we are? Oh, Brad, can you imagine? What’ll we do?”

  Mayor Frank shut his notebook and put it in his vest pocket. “Ma’am, that’s not going to happen. I’ve got teams of volunteers erecting barriers at all major entry points into our community. While we can’t entirely contain the whole town, we’ve created some temporary roadblocks on the highway using stalled cars. It’s not going to be easy for a big caravan of motorcycles to roll into town. Even if they do, we can use the high school as an evacuation point. It is a highly defensible location. Don’t worry. We are not helpless here.”

  “Well, that makes me feel a bit better,” Marna said. “I’m glad there’s a plan in place.”

  “Sounds like they’ve got it figured out,” Brad said, hugging his wife. “Don’t worry. We’re safe here.”

  Jodi wished she felt as confident. She had a thousand questions for the mayor regarding his plans, but she opted not to say anything. Best to let Marna hold on to her sense of security while she could.

  Owen, Libby, and Amelia sat on the hearth, the most miserable-looking trio Jodi had ever seen. Corbin, Violet, and Beth were on the couch, Ruby sitting at Violet’s feet. Kaylee had been sitting with them, but she had too much restless energy. Currently, she was dancing up and down the hallway with the little Schnauzer. Shane and Jodi stood together in front of the table where the batteries were located.

  “I want our safety procedures to be so burned in your mind,” Shane said, “that if there’s ever trouble, you’ll be able to act on instinct. You won’t even have to think about it. Is that clear?”

  “Keep all of the guns within easy reach of anyone in the house,” Corbin said. “If someone breaches the property, that’s going to be priority number one.”

  “The Glock will be with me at all times,” Shane said, patting his holster. “The shotgun and the AR-15 will be loaded and in the hall closet. We’ve also got two loaded .357 Magnums that Mike brought from the sheriff’s office. Don’t hesitate to shoot any intruder who comes onto our property. Is that clear?”

  Everyone in the room nodded except Violet, who bowed her head. She, of course, had already been confronted with that exact situation, and she had responded the right way. Clearly recalling this moment, she reached up and touched her injured right shoulder.

  “If someone enters the house,” Jodi said, “grab the guns and retreat to one of the bedrooms or the bathroom. Don’t stand out in the open.”

  “From now on, if someone peeks over that fence, assume the worst,” Shane said. “Is that clear?”

  “Libby and Amelia,” Jodi said. “I don’t think you girls should sleep in the house next door. I no longer feel good about having you on the other side of the fence.”

  “I’m good with that,” Amelia said. Jodi noted that she gently bumped Owen with her elbow when she said it.

  “It’s fine,” Libby said. She seemed to be sinking deeper into despair, her head hanging lower and lower. “I don’t want to go over there anyway. David did a lot of work fixing the place up. It’ll just make me think about him.”

  “I’m sorry, Libby,” Jodi said. “I’m so sorry. We’ll set up an air mattress for you two in the living room.” She glanced at Shane to make sure he wasn’t going to protest. She hadn’t forgotten his reluctance at taking them in.

  He nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. They’ll be safer in here with us.”

  Kaylee made a sound from the hallway, and Jodi turned to look at her. She was playing with Bauer, chasing and then giving chase.

  “Kaylee,” she said, calling her youngest daughter. “Sweetheart, have you been listening to us?”

  “Yes, Mommy,” she replied. “Mostly. Are bad people going to come into our house again?”

  “Well, we certainly hope not,” Jodi replied, “but we want to be ready just in case.”

  “They always come in here,” Kaylee said, turning and chasing Bauer toward her back bedroom. The dog gave a happy little bark and ran from her. “Even if you close the doors, they still come inside. We have to shoot them.”

  Jodi felt unease at the casual way her six-year-old daughter said this, even laughing and running as she said it. “Well, we’re going to try to keep them out. That’s why Daddy and the boys built a big fence.”

>   “It didn’t stop the other guys,” Kaylee said. She’d reached the end of the hall, and she ran back toward the foyer, Bauer at her heels. “Violet had to kill them.”

  Jodi noticed that Violet grimaced at this before quickly covering her mouth with her hands.

  “Okay, I think we all know what to do,” Shane said. “Let’s keep our eyes and ears open. Look out for each other, and don’t hesitate to defend our home and family. We’ll be ready for them next time. We’ll be ready for anyone.”

  15

  A walk to the park seemed like nothing now, a casual stroll even in the heat. Shane hardly thought about it now. Violet and Ruby seemed to enjoy the walk, though Violet had become a brand-new person thanks to the community garden project. Shane had never seen his daughter so enthusiastic about anything.

  “We might be able to finish planting today,” she said, “if we have enough volunteers. Of course, the fence still needs a lot of work, so we’ll have to decide how to split up the work teams.”

  “I’m sure between you and Zoe, you’ll figure it out,” Shane said. “You two seem to have everything well in hand.”

  At this, she beamed, giving him a big smile that made her seem both older and very, very young at the same time. Unfortunately, they soon came in sight of the park, and even from a distance, Shane could see that they had about half as many volunteers as the day before. He knew Violet would ask, so he braced himself for the disappointing news.

  “How many came?” she asked, as they crossed the high school parking lot. “Exact number.”

  “Well…including Zoe,” he replied, “about…oh, ten or eleven.”

  Violet made a soft grunt, the sound of disappointment.

  “It’s human nature,” he told her. “People have trouble making long-term commitments to hard work.”

  “But they’re growing their own food,” she said. “You’d think they would show up for that.”

  Marna and Brad had shown up, along with a few others from the tent camp and just a few regular townsfolk. Not an impressive crew, though Zoe was already giving instructions and pointing people in various directions. When the head librarian saw Shane and Violet approaching, she moved to meet them.

  “Good morning, Violet,” she said. Shane could tell she was trying to sound optimistic. “Ready for another long day of work?”

  “Disappointing turnout?” Violet asked.

  “Not as many as I’d hoped,” Zoe said. “We’ll just have to work twice as hard.”

  As the three of them walked to the garden together, Shane began to formulate a solution to the problem. He was irritated at the lazy townsfolk—not for the first time—but, more than that, he wanted Violet to be successful in this endeavor. His family needed this garden to grow.

  “What if you set up shifts and assigned them to people,” Shane said, “then required people to accumulate a certain number of volunteer hours before they get to enjoy the fruits of others’ labor? Use produce from the community garden as payment for most—if not all—volunteer hours. Once the garden is big enough, you’d have enough to pay garden workers, guards, sentry, whatever else you need.”

  Both Zoe and Violet stopped, and Zoe turned to look at him, knitting her eyebrows.

  “That’s kind of harsh, Dad,” Violet said.

  “Yeah, it is,” he said, “but it’s a harsh world. I’ll mention at the next town meeting that we need more volunteers for the garden. Maybe that’s all it will take. If not, we’ll have to adopt stricter measures.”

  “Well, at least we’ll be giving them fair warning,” Violet said.

  “Which is more than they deserve,” Shane muttered. When he said it, he felt a tremendous bitterness, and it gave him pause.

  The next meeting was not quite as packed as the previous one—there weren’t many standing in the back—but the room was as tense as ever. Ryan had planted himself in the middle of the front row, and Shane made sure to position himself a couple of rows behind him, with Jodi on one side and Beth on the other. They hadn’t allowed any of the kids to come, though Owen and Corbin had wanted to. Shane didn’t trust the crowd.

  “We have a few things on the agenda tonight,” Mayor Frank said from the podium, propping his megaphone against the edge. “There is a bit of good news.”

  That was as far as he got before Ryan stood up and raised his hand. At first, the mayor tried to ignore him and go back to reading his paper, but then Ryan began waving his hand.

  “Can it wait a bit, Ryan?” the mayor asked.

  “No, sir, I think we should get it over with,” Ryan replied. “There’s really only one issue that people want to talk about, and it’s more urgent than ever.”

  “So you’ve been appointed to speak on behalf of the town?” Frank said, with a scowl.

  “No, sir, I’m just aware of the problem,” Ryan said. “Every day that passes, we’re seeing more people pushed to the verge of death—death that is wholly preventable. We can’t wait any longer. We need to vote again on mandatory redistribution of food.”

  A ripple went through the crowd, and Shane thought it mostly sounded like approval for the idea. He saw nodding heads all around him.

  “We voted on it last time,” the mayor said.

  Sheriff Cooley was sitting in a folding chair behind him, legs and arms crossed. The poor man looked like he’d been run ragged.

  “We need to vote on it again,” Ryan said. “Our situation is getting more desperate.” He turned around, eyes scanning the crowd, lingering hatefully on Shane, Jodi, and Beth. “Don’t you want to vote again, friends?”

  As the crowd started to murmur, Frank called for quiet. “Okay, okay, we’ll take another vote.”

  Shane was tempted to protest. Were they simply going to keep voting on the issue until Ryan got the result he wanted? That hardly seemed democratic or fair, but things were moving fast.

  “All in favor of confiscating private food stores, raise your hands,” the mayor said.

  Hands went up all over the room, too many hands for Shane’s comfort. Frank seemed to be counting them under his breath, but Ryan turned to face the crowd and he seemed to be counting as well.

  “A hundred and twenty-two in favor,” Frank said, after a moment. “Would you like to challenge my count, Ryan?”

  Ryan shook his head without comment.

  “Okay, then, all opposed,” Frank said. “Let’s see your hands.”

  The number of hands that went up seemed very close—too close—and Shane noted that Beth once again raised both of her hands, as if hoping to be double counted. He loved her for it, and he did the same. Though Frank probably wasn’t dumb enough to actually double count them, there was something in the gesture—almost an act of defiance—that Shane found satisfying.

  As Frank counted, Ryan appeared to count again as well.

  “A hundred and twenty-four against,” the mayor said. “Close, but the nays have it. The town is still opposed to confiscation. Are you satisfied, Ryan?”

  The vote had been much closer this time, far too close for Shane’s comfort. He glanced around the room at all the unfriendly faces. Ryan didn’t dispute the count but dropped down in his seat with a disgusted grunt. He wouldn’t give up, that was clear. He would keep pushing the issue.

  “Okay, hopefully, we can move on to other things now,” Frank said.

  A man stood up on the far-right side of the room, raising his hand. Shane didn’t know him, a sunburned chap clutching a cowboy hat. He wore a red flannel shirt and dirt-stained jeans, and he had a face like some Great Depression farmer—weathered as hundred-year-old leather.

  “Yes, sir?” Frank said, pointing at him.

  “Mayor, I want to do my part in helping feed the people,” he said, his Georgia accent as thick as syrup. “I got me two steer I’d like to donate to the community. You can divvy up the meat, but you’ll need someone to butcher them. My butcher disappeared after the event.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you, friend,” Mayor Frank sai
d. “What do you say, folks? If someone will volunteer to butcher the animals, we can divvy up the meat by household.”

  “We should smoke all of the meat before we divvy it up,” someone near the back of the room shouted. “That’ll make it last longer. I’ve got a big smoker. I could bring it to the food bank.”

  “Just butcher the meat and let us figure out what we want to do with our portion,” someone else shouted. “Maybe some of us don’t want to smoke it.”

  Some spoke out in favor of communal smoking, others insisted on taking their portion to do with as they pleased, and within seconds, the whole room was full of shouting and arguing. A world-weary Sheriff Cooley finally rose from his seat, approached the podium, and took the megaphone.

  “If you all don’t shut up, nobody’s getting a damn thing,” he said. “We will have order in these town meetings, I swear.” The crowd began to settle beneath the glare of James Cooley, and he finally handed the megaphone back to Frank.

  “We don’t need to fight about it,” Mayor Frank said. “We’ll consider going both ways with the meat. If you want to cook your own, that’s fine. If you don’t have the means to do so, we’ll have a way to smoke it for you. Now, is that fair? I think that’s fair.”

  Ryan stood up again. “Some don’t need the meat,” he said. “Those who’ve hoarded food shouldn’t get a share. They’ll just can it and put it down in their secret places.” He turned and pointed directly at Beth. “People like them don’t need to take more food away from starving people. Their portion of the meat should go to the greater good.”

  This got people murmuring again, and Frank began shouting, over and over, “Everyone’s going to get their fair share. Everyone’s going to get their fair share!”

  That finally settled the crowd, and the meeting proceeded to other less controversial topics. Shane traded an anxious look with his mother-in-law. She leaned over to him and said, “I don’t want their stupid meat if it’s going to give Ryan another reason to harass our family.”