The Haven Series (Book 2): Haven

by Brian M. Switzer

  “You taught me that, dumbass.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’d think in that case I’d be ready for it.”

  “Why in the hell are you sneaking up on people? Do you want to get killed?”

  “I can’t be killed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I can’t be killed. Not by a normal person, anyway. It’s a gift an Indian gave me.”

  “Danny, what are you babbling about?”

  “An old Kiowa spirit medicine man I met in a bar one night a few years back. I taught him to shoot whiskey without throwing up and to chew tobacco. In return, he showed me how to shield my spirit self from harm so I can’t die.”

  Tara closed her eyes and held her head in her hands. “Danny,” she began, but that was as far as she got.

  “I came up on you quiet because I have good news and wanted it to be a surprise.”

  She felt a burst of joy. “You’ll help me?”

  “Yes. But we’re not going house-to-house, at least not yet.”

  “Then what?”

  He gave her a triumphant smile. “Dollar Hut.”

  “What’s that?”

  Danny frowned and shook his head in mock disgust. “Boy, you are all city girl, aren’t you? Across Missouri, Kansas, and Oklahoma there are all these towns of a couple of thousand people or less. They’re not big enough to support a Wal Mart or a grocery store. So this guy opened a chain of these nasty, dirty, rundown little stores. A few aisles of groceries, some cheap clothes and shoes, knick-knacks purchased from China in miscellaneous one-ton lots. And a couple of aisles of toiletries and personal care items. Put it all in a cheap building, paint the building yellow and the roof brown. Dollar Hut.”

  Tara rubbed her chin and thought hard. “Dollar Hut. I think I’ve seen one of those while we’ve been out scavenging.”

  “You probably have. There are five of them less than a twenty-mile drive from here. If we get going in the morning we should be able to hit them all and be back in time for supper.”

  “But wouldn’t they already be looted?”

  “Sure, for food, clothes, and anything that might work as a weapon. I doubt back when things broke bad people worried much about toothpaste and tampons. Since then, who knows? It’s worth a look. If it doesn’t pan out, then we can talk about going house to house until we have what we need.”

  “That sounds good. I’m in.”

  “Awesome. I’ll put a crew together and we’ll hit the road around eight.” He peeked over Tess’s shoulders at the liftgate and smiled at Tara. “I’ll let you girls get back to your guns. Maybe have Doc Joseph take a look at this jaw.”

  Breakfast

  * * *

  The next day broke brittle and gray; by breakfast, the sky was spitting an icy sleet that stung Danny’s skin. He thought about begging Tara to wait a day but quickly realized that was a bad idea. She would cuss him as a pussy. Even worse, she might get it in her mind that he was trying to back out of their agreement. No, it was far better to endure the chill winter weather than to incur her wrath.

  He had his daily fantasy- a breakfast of three eggs fried extra over-easy, four slices of whole-hog sausage, a pile of hash browns and white toast. Apple juice to wash the whole thing down. He let go of the fantasy with a sigh, picked two pieces of jerky out of his pack and selected a can of chicken noodle soup from a bin of canned goods. A table shoved against the tunnel wall served as an all-purpose prep station. He dug around in an orange milk crate full of utensils until he spotted a can opener. Once he’d opened the can he shook in a healthy dollop of black pepper and few drops of Tabasco, using his index finger to stir the seasoning into the soup. He considered a spoon, decided fuck it, and drank a swallow straight from the can. The soup was cold and bubbles of congealed grease dotted the top. But it beat a lot of things he’d eaten over the last year.

  Tara was further down the tunnel, drinking one of her infernal canned protein shakes. Chicken noodle soup straight from the can would never be confused with a strip steak fried in butter, but he would rather lick the sweat from the backside of a goat’s testicles than drink one of those shakes. He held up both palms and wagged all ten fingers, indicating ten minutes until departure. She nodded her head and flashed him a thumbs-up to indicate she understood.

  Will and Jiri stood near the entrance, talking in low voices and looking out at the quarry floor. As he walked over to join them he heard the distant thunder of gunfire. Coy and his dog were out there somewhere, engaged in their relentless hunt for fresh meat to feed the little community.

  He nodded at Jiri and gave Will a pat on the back. He threw back another slug of his soup and gave Jiri a sour look. "How much longer until the kitchen is open?"

  Jiri gave him an exasperated sigh. "Soon.”

  "How soon?"

  "Danny, it'll be open when it's open. Do you want to be in charge of it?"

  "No sir. I'm a lover, not an administrator. That would be a waste of my many talents."

  "Then quit pestering me about it. It will open when it's ready and not a day before."

  "Okay. I didn't mean to rile you up. My apologies."

  "I'm not riled up. And apology accepted." Jiri smiled at him to show there were no hard feelings.

  Will spit a brown stream on the ground outside the entrance then turned to Danny. "Have you got your crew put together?"

  "Yes, sir. Tara, Tess, Joe A. from The Originals, Justin to do the navigating, and me."

  Will game him a double take. "You're taking Tess?"

  "Not my call. Tara said it’s time she learned to do sweeps. She wasn’t involved much on the road, and since both of us are on this trip, she’s of the opinion it’s a good time to get the kid some experience."

  Jiri interrupted them. "We held her back when we on the road because she was seventeen years old."

  "I know that. But now she's eighteen, she's incredibly athletic, she shoots well, and her big sister says she's gonna go. I’m not going to argue with her."

  "Pussy," Jiri chided him.

  "We're talking about Tara. Let's see you stand up to her."

  "Stand up to who?" asked Tara, who had walked up behind them, unnoticed.

  Danny didn’t miss a beat. "The Russians."

  Jiri and Will laughed while he busied himself checking the contents of his MOLLE vest. If Tara wondered about his answer she chose to let it go.

  Still chuckling, Will spit again and pointed a finger at the two of them. "Listen up, you two. I meant what I said last night. I don't like this. I don't like you going into any town, I don't care how small. And now you guys are going into five of them.

  "The rule of the day is shoot first, ask questions second. Get the hell out of town at the first sign of trouble. If you see

  more creepers than you can handle, run. If you meet someone that gives you a hinky feeling run if you can, shoot and run if

  you have to."

  He fixed his gaze on Tara. "I know this trip is important to you, but it can't be more important than your safety. You make sure you get back here, regardless of what it takes."

  She gave him an affectionate smile. "I'll be careful, Will. You have my word on it." She gave him and Jiri a quick hug, then she and

  Danny headed for the truck. They had only taken a few steps when she turned back toward the pair. "I'll also be sure to watch over Danny and make sure nothing happens to him," she called out.

  The sound of their laughter rang in his ears as they climbed in the Ford.

  Dollar Hut

  * * *

  They drove up the big hill that ran from the quarry bottom to the road above, the five of them piled into the cab of the F-250. Danny drove, and Justin and his maps occupied the passenger seat. Tara sat between them. Danny figured she positioned herself there because it gave her the best vantage point from which to criticize both his driving and Justin’s navigating. Tess took the rear seat behind Justin and Joe Ashton sat behind Danny.

  Joe was one of The Originals, b
ut he was fast becoming an honorary member of Will’s group. He rode with the scavenge teams almost every day and was always one of the first of The Judge’s people to volunteer for the tougher jobs. Coy even took Joe on a couple of scouting trips- his forays to map the countryside around the quarry. He became a skilled hand at fighting the dead. He came across as a hot mess with his long limbs and shock of red hair- all arms and legs, joints protruding in every direction, ginger hair flying around his head. But something happened when the killing started. Joe morphed into something graceful and his long arms became assets, allowing him to take the creepers out when they were still too far away to be a danger.

  Their first stop was the little town of Jasper, ten miles straight north of the quarry on highway 71A. A trip that took eight minutes in the old days lasted forty-five minutes that morning. Abandoned cars peppered the four lanes of traffic, and scores of creepers wandered among the rotting tires and rusting steel.

  They exited off the highway and followed the off-ramp into a ghost town where nothing stirred. Justin called out directions to the Dollar Hut,

  and they didn't see a person or a creeper anywhere on the short route. Danny parked on the street in front of the store and turned off the engine.

  He took a quick look around at the environs. "Let's sit here a minute. See if we've attracted any attention."

  They sat in the truck and watched for any creepers or living people. Five minutes passed with no sign of either.

  He drew a deep breath, exhaled, and gave the order. "Okay, everything everybody out of the pool."

  They exited the truck and hurried across the sidewalk. The storefront consisted of big glass panels with a pair of double doors in the middle. Joe had been a part-time locksmith before the outbreak; it was his job to get them inside. He opened a pocket-sized satchel filled with tools and worked on the lock while the other four stood guard behind him.

  He fiddled with the lock for about 30 seconds. "Bingo," he said with a smile as he pulled the door open.

  Tara and Danny entered first, guns drawn. Danny looked left and Tara right; the other three followed through the doorway and filled the space between them. Using hand signals, Danny indicated he would sweep the store’s left side, Joe and Justin the center, and Tara and Tess the right. Tess responded with a confused expression and Danny remembered that this was her first time out and she had no experience with the signals.

  Tara rectified the situation. She tapped Tess on the back, held a finger to her lips, and made a walking motion with her fingers so Tess would know to follow her.

  Danny stepped to the far left of the store, his pistol up and ready. He moved with slow precision, taking care to maneuver around objects on the floor that might make noise. The sign above aisle eight read ‘automotive-outdoor-seasonal’. Using the end-cap for cover, he peeked around the edge. The walkway appeared empty. He made his way down it, his gait unhurried, his senses on high alert.

  He felt a stab of disappointment when he scanned the shelves on each side of the aisle. Except for the occasional item, looters had picked it clean. The shelves on the left held gallon jugs of windshield-washer fluid, decorations for Valentine’s Day and three cans of tire cleaner. On the other side, the Roundup weed killer display appeared untouched and the bottom shelf was well-stocked with garden gnomes, cherubs and the decorative glass bulbs people used to put in their front yards. Anything useful was gone.

  At the end of the aisle he peered down the pathway at the back of the store. He saw Tess and Tara and relaxed as he walked over to join them. “I don’t want to piss on your garden party but I couldn’t help but notice my aisle was empty.”

  Tara grimaced. “Ours too.”

  Joe and Justin came around the far corner. "Clear," Joe called. "There's nothing left, though."

  Tara shook her head in frustration. "The whole damn store is empty.”

  Danny gave her a lopsided grin. “Don't go dragging your dick in the dirt yet. Three more stores to go. Let's head out of here slow and easy

  and hit the next town."

  They stopped up front and observed the street and surrounding buildings. Once he was certain there was no one around Danny led them to the truck and fired it up. They left the town along the same route they came in on.

  Dollar Hut 2

  * * *

  The drive to the next town took them eight miles west on a state highway, then five more south on county roads. Twice, they thought they saw living people but didn’t stop to investigate. Danny had Justin mark the spots on his maps- he’d throw the whole mess in Will’s lap when they got back to the quarry.

  The town of Oronogo was tiny, dirty and decrepit. The Dollar Hut sat on the far side of town, in front of a cluster of red brick duplexes. They had sagging roofs and cracks in the foundation; a big sign out front announced the housing was for low-income residents.

  This time they didn’t bother getting out of the truck.

  They watched the store from their perch on the side of the street, a half-block away. Creepers shuffled in and out of the grimy yellow building and traipsing around inside. The glass panels up front were all shattered and cheap Dollar Hut merchandise littered the parking lot.

  Danny rested his elbows against the truck’s steering wheel and turned to Tara. “You know I want you to pull this off. But that’s twenty, maybe twenty-five thirty creepers, and those are just the ones in view. And there doesn’t appear to be much of anything in there. What do you want to do?”

  Tara rubbed her temples and sighed. “Well, of course we have to go on.” She prodded Justin with her elbow. “What’s the next location?”

  “A little town called Purcell, right up the road. Shouldn’t take us any time to get there.”

  The Stranger

  * * *

  Danny drove down the main street of the little burg, his nose wrinkled as he looked at the window. He had been in a lot of nasty, dirty towns is his twenty-four years. But Purcell had to be the right up there with the nastiest and dirtiest.

  "Jesus," Tara said. "Look at this place."

  "I didn't think towns like this existed in this country," Tess said from the backseat. ”This is third world stuff.”

  Dirty was too kind a word to describe the landscape outside the truck windows. "It had to be a pit even before the outbreak occurred, for to look like this now," Danny said, shaking his head.

  The buildings were old and tottering, and in some cases, it seemed layers of dirt were the only thing holding them up. Rusted-out old cars that hadn’t run in years sat on blocks along the curbs, surrounded by trash and rotting leaves in knee-high piles. The old brick buildings on Main Street were missing bricks and windows, and even the particleboard used to cover the empty panes was broken and rotting.

  "Justin, buddy, where is the Dollar Hut in this hole?"

  Justin answered without looking up from his maps. "Just keep driving straight. It’s coming right up on your right."

  Sure enough, after a few more blocks of sagging buildings and overgrown yards, the distinctive yellow building appeared on the north side of the road. Danny slowed the truck a half a block away and pulled over to the shoulder.

  "It looks like it's in decent shape," Tara said after scrutinizing the business for several long moments.

  Danny stared hard at one particular spot. "Have you guys ever seen a creeper sitting on its ass?" He pointed at a spot to the right of the entrance. "Look hard. He blends in with the building."

  Tara leaned forward and squinted through the trucks dirty windshield. "Oh, there he is, right there," she said in a victorious voice, as if she had just found Waldo instead of a guy riding out the zombie apocalypse in front of a shitty discount store.

  Danny nodded his head. "Yep. He's wearing tan coveralls that so he’s hard to pick out, but there's a guy sitting against the front wall, bent over with his head between his knees.”

  "Dude," Joe exclaimed, "good catch. I'd have never caught that."

  "Yeah, well, that's why
they pay me the big bucks."

  "What do we do now?" Tess asked.

  Danny leaned forward for a closer look, until the tip of his nose almost touched the windshield. "Find out why that dude is sleeping in front of our store. Tessie, pull that scattergun down from the back window."

  Tess looked at the array of long guns in the gun rack. "Scattergun?"

  Tara rolled her eyes at her sister. "The shotgun Tess. For goodness sakes."

  Tess made a face at Tara, pulled the gun off the rack, and handed it up to Danny.

  He gave the weapon a quick inspection. It was a Mossberg 500 he’d found on a scavenging run. It featured a reversible pistol grip and he’d grown fond of it. "Now- we'll get out of the truck as quiet as a nun's fart. Tess, you and Justin stop at the edge of the parking lot put your guns on that guy. If he does anything suspicious, or if I raise my right hand, shoot him. Tara, you and Joe follow me. Everybody watch for creepers and other people."

  They exited the truck and crept single file until they reached the parking lot. Justin and Tess pulled up there and shouldered their M4s. Danny continued, with Tara and Joe following close behind. When they were fifteen yards from the motionless figure Danny held up his left fist in a "stop" sign.

  The ch-chunk a pump-action shotgun makes when it’s racked is one of the most distinctive sounds in the world. You need never have held a gun in your life to recognize it. If you've ever seen a movie or watched a TV show, you know what that intonation portends.

  "Wake up, limp dick," Danny yelled in a gruff voice. He pumped the slide on the Mossberg.

  The man's head did not move, but his hand slid from his knee toward a spot at his waist.

  Danny shouldered the shotgun and took three big steps toward him. "Don't do it! You have five guns pointed at your head. If that hand moves another inch you're a dead man."

  His hand froze, then returned to his knee.