Lines in Shadow: Walking in the Rain

by William Allen

  “No, not really,” Scott admitted. He found it hard to lie to Sarah, though sometimes he did it, knowing she would immediately see through to the truth.

  Handing the hot tin cup to Scott without asking, Sarah slid closer, letting her shoulder briefly brush against his.

  “How’d it go?” Sarah asked.

  Scott gave her the summary, explaining how he’d managed to steal the generator parts and deliver the cargo. The stoned or drunk man he’d killed barely rated a mention, as no immediate alarm had been raised.

  “You got something on your mind? Like thinking about all those dead ghouls still walking around? What’d Mike call them? The zombies, right?”

  Sarah’s questions came at a rapid-fire clip, and Scott had to suppress a tiny grin. She was trying to help.

  “Sarah, I could personally shoot each one of those murdering assholes in the head, one after the other, and not lose a moment’s sleep to them. Anybody who’s spent time watching that camp could do the same.”

  That statement reminded Scott of the thought he’d had while exiting the camp. He’d need to go home today and spring Mike. He mentioned his plan while sipping at the hot tea, savoring the taste of raw honey in the mix. One of the neighbors had a crop of sugar beets due to be harvested, but in the meantime, sugar remained a horded delicacy. Not that Scott minded. He preferred the honey.

  “So why couldn’t you sleep, then?”

  Anyone else, Scott would have ignored, or put off with some excuse.

  “You believe in ghosts, Sarah?”

  After a long pause, Sarah responded.

  “In theory, I think there are things we can’t understand, or may not understand at this time,” she replied carefully. “I’ve never personally seen anything to substantiate this opinion of mine, though. Why, you see something last night?”

  “Always straight to the point, Mrs. Trimble,” Scott replied, his words slurring a bit as he spoke. “I didn’t see anything. But when I was leaving, I thought I heard something. Something that didn’t seem real.”

  “What was it?” Sarah asked, her voice quite serious.

  Scott paused, his brow furrowed as he tried to relate what he sensed.

  “I don’t know, but it sounded like…it sounded like crying.”

  Looking up, he caught Sarah’s face going pale at the idea, and he hastened to speak again.

  “Sarah, they don’t keep prisoners. We’ve looked. Repeatedly. No, this was like crying, but it didn’t sound real. Or sounded wrong, somehow. Like it was coming from a long way off.” Scott sighed, not sure how else to describe what he had experienced. “Look, it’s weird, but it was like I was hearing the voices crying, but I wasn’t hearing them with my ears.”

  “You think it was the dead. The victims,” she clarified, and Scott felt his head nodding despite the absurdity of the idea.

  “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know what to think. I just know I’m tired, and I couldn’t sleep.”

  “When was the last time you did sleep?”

  Scott shrugged. “Not sure. Woke up early yesterday. Got a few hours then.”

  Sarah wrinkled her nose slightly. “And from the smell of Ben-Gay, you hurt yourself again.”

  “Hey, it’s Icy-Hot, and just a little bit.”

  Sarah smiled for real this time, amused at Scott’s indignation. Truly, she didn’t know how the man did it. He was easily ten years her senior, but managed to force his body into acts of endurance she thought might damage a twenty-year old. That he felt the same way sometimes when watching her was a bit of irony they had yet to share with each other.

  “Well, lay your head down and try to rest. I’ll stay here to keep the monsters away.”

  She spoke that last bit softly, wistfully, and Scott wondered if she used the same reassurance with her daughters to banish the residue of bad dreams.

  Scott laid down, and despite his agitated state, soon fell into a troubled sleep.

  Sarah, for her part, stayed close and more than once found herself placing a calming hand on

  his forehead as Scott thrashed through another nightmare.

  “He’s finally asleep?” Yalonda asked, sliding into a seated position next to Sarah.

  “For a little while, anyway. His body can’t keep this up, you know?”

  Yalonda nodded. “He’s gonna crash as some point. You can’t keep pushing, and not allow for recovery time. He say anything about the mission last night?”

  “In and out with the poison delivered,” Sarah replied, repeating almost verbatim what Scott had shared. “Had to take out a lurker, but he doubts anybody noticed. Said it was too dark for anybody to see him, and the distraction worked to a tee.”

  She paused, then added, “He wouldn’t talk about what he saw in there, not since that one time, but it was bad. I think that’s why he’s so wound up.”

  Yalonda frowned, her pretty face drawn up tight as she did.

  “Yeah, I heard. Well, the boys really don’t talk about it much, but they aren’t sleeping either. And talk about pissed. They really, really, are serious about leaving that place a smoking crater.”

  “That’s the idea, I think. You hear Scott is going to go get Mike tomorrow, just so he can watch?”

  “No, that’s news to me. You think this idea of his will work?”

  Sarah thought about the question before answering.

  “I think it will work well enough. Sooner or later they’ll figure out the source of the sickness, and not all of the ghouls share the same water source, but we will kill or weaken many of them. Especially the ones running the place.”

  “And then?”

  Sarah grinned, and her white teeth seemed to glow in the light of the rising sun.

  “Then we do what needs doing. Like Scott says, we kill them all, and make a monument from their corpses.”

  “That’s pretty hardcore, Sarah,” Yalonda pointed out, but she didn’t disagree.

  “Just the times we live in,” Sarah replied, glancing over to make sure Scott was still sleeping. “You know, he treats his men, his boys, just like the sons he never had. I don’t even know if he realizes how they look at him. Funny, but I never really thought of Scott as being any kind of leader. I mean, he openly defers to Nick so often, and so quickly, that most people miss the impact he really has.”

  “Well, he was some kind of Force Recon Marine, right? That’s what some of the others say about him. Like a hardcore killing machine, back in the day.”

  Sarah laughed, and Yalonda gave her a scowl. Sarah held up a placating hand before speaking.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she replied, “and I have to admit, I thought the same thing. The truth is, well, different than you might think. It isn’t my story to tell, but get him alone and ask him sometime.”

  “Ah, I don’t think I want to do that,” Yalonda said carefully. “No offense, but I kind of got the impression you’ve kind of marked him as your territory.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Nothing like that. Yo, I just buried my husband. Less than a season ago, anyway. You know, the love of my life, the father of my children. Some mornings, I wake up and look around for Sean, and then I remember. I’m not even thinking about any man, not even Scott, right now. Maybe someday, and then again, maybe I never will.”

  When she shuddered at that last bit, Yalonda looked away, not wanting to further embarrass the woman. She hadn’t yet made her way to the farm when Sarah had arrived, but she’d heard the stories. Nothing malicious, but whispers meant to warn her to be sensitive around the still-battered woman. Not that it was necessary, since Sarah rarely engaged in a lot of chitchat. No, instead she just worked so diligently to recover from what was done to her, and her daughters.

  Still, Yalonda was observant. She watched what happened around the farm, and in the outlying community. Part of it was natural curiosity, and the rest, a reaction to the way of the world. Her medical skills bought her way into the community, and her feisty spirit earned her a pla
ce in the defense force, but in her first few weeks she’d made note of the goings-on in this seeming safe haven. Cynical as well as watchful, Yalonda Butler at first doubted anyplace could be as straight forward and altruistic as Kellerville.

  But instead of a budding kingdom under an ambitious warlord, Yalonda found Darwin and Hazel Keller. She also ended up surrounded by people like her, just working hard to survive. Not perfect, or always nice, but driven to protect what they had and help others as they could.

  She’d watched Sarah, and recently, she’d noticed how Sarah reacted to certain people. So she knew, and she kept her peace.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Jeez, what time is it?” Scott asked, sitting up suddenly and seeing Kevin Perkins leaning against a nearby pine tree.

  Instead of checking a watch, the thirty-something man just looked up to regard the sky for a few seconds before answering.

  “Ah, I make it a little before noon, boss.”

  “You can tell the time by the placement of the sun now?” Scott asked dubiously.

  Perkins looked down, hiding a smirk before answering.

  “Can’t get one past you, can I? No, Max just rolled in with your nephew Nick,” Perkins said, aiming a thumb over his shoulder and out of sight. “They’re getting the gear loaded, and I’m still on watch. Max mentioned they wanted to get on the road before noon, so I extrapolated.”

  “Damn, Kevin, you are a smart one. Remind me again, what did you do before?”

  “Stockbroker,” the other man replied, offering a little grin. “I don’t suppose that area of the economy is coming back on line anytime soon.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Scott said, groaning a little as he rose from his sleeping bag. Fully dressed, he only took a few seconds to change socks and tug on his well-broken in boots. “We’ll need some way to trade and barter with other communities at some point. I guess you will find something. Just no bundled mortgages. I still don’t know how all that mess worked, and it almost managed to ruin the economy.”

  “Don’t worry, Scott. Kellerville, Inc. will be too big to fail.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Scott replied with a short laugh. “Where are we going and why?”

  Kevin shrugged, pointing again. “I just mind the perimeter, boss. You need to check with upper management.”

  “Kevin, I gotta say, you are on a roll today. Let me take care of a little business here and I’ll see what’s up.”

  After giving his bladder a much-needed break, Scott washed his hands with a squirt of alcohol solution and quickly rolled up his sleeping bag and situated his gear. Slinging the Ruger Scout rifle Sarah had held onto for him, Scott then strode over to the small cluster of his people, which now included Sarah and Yalonda along with Max and Nick.

  “I see sleeping beauty is up,” Max quipped, and then stuck out a hand to shake, and then followed it up with a pat on the back that made Scott hide a wince.

  “Damn fine work last night,” Max continued.

  “So the poison has started to take effect?” Scott asked, a bit surprised to see results already.

  “Oh, yeah, we just came from one of the scout hides.” Nick chimed in, and gave his uncle an uncharacteristic grin. Nick Keller came home from his time in the Army a serious young man, and he now bore the pressure of his position with the same steady focus, but the strain was showing. Not even thirty-five, and already his hair was turning gray at an alarming rate.

  “And…” Scott prompted, his belly in knots at the delay.

  “And there’s some kind of sickness spreading in the camp. Whatever medical care they have seems overwhelmed, and there’s been all kinds of screaming and hollering reported so far by the closest observers. We could see them still pulling water out of the tank, though, so apparently, nobody’s made the connection yet.”

  “Wow,” Yalonda blurted out, “that’s really quick for even arsenic. I wonder if their overall poor physical state has something to do with that? Ben said the other day, even the leaders look like…”

  ‘Like shit’ Scott knew she wanted to say. Yalonda didn’t have much of a filter, but clearly she felt the need for a little decorum.

  “Like they were not in good health,” she said instead, and she couldn’t see Sarah fighting off a small grin at the self-editing. “But I’m just guessing. My classes at school on treating poison were very short with details. Mainly figure out the type of poison and report it to the doctor for treatment.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Scott finally managed to say. “So, what’s the plan now?”

  “We’re moving up the timetable,” Nick announced. “There’s a cordon of over thirty of our guys watching the camp at the moment. Max and I will head back to the farm and pick up the last few teams, then start the offensive against the camp like we discussed.”

  “Oh,” Scott interjected, “what happened yesterday when their convoy tried to make a move? I heard the firing, but the trucks never came back.”

  “Bobby and his boys held ‘em,” Max replied, his tone suddenly somber. “They held, but it cost them two dead and three wounded, one critical. The ghouls had a SAW mounted on the lead truck, and that’s what did the most damage.”

  Scott sighed, knowing the impact of such losses on a small community like Bobby’s prepper compound. Five down, and all as close as family. He’d have to talk to Darwin to see what they could do. Nothing would bring back their dead, or speed the healing of their wounded, but maybe his brother would have an idea on how to cushion the loss for the survivors.

  Maybe, Scott thought quickly, see if they might find some volunteers from the home place, or one of the other larger farms, to go over and help out. With muscle power coming back into vogue, having a few extra hands to help with milking or to help with finishing the harvest of fall crops might be critical.

  Reading the look on Scott’s face, Nick was quick to speak up.

  “Scott, those guys knew the risk, and they wanted to help. You remember how Bobby was when he heard the news. As soon as they found out what those monsters were up to, Bobby wanted to start the attack immediately.”

  “From what he said,” Max continued, picking up the thread of the conversation without missing a beat, “his wife had family in Lowell. Tried to get them to come to their place when the lights went out, but they were determined to stick it out. Now, their house is a burned-out wreck and nobody left to say what happened.”

  “There’s nobody left in the whole town,” Scott observed softly, his head down. “The whole place, outside that damned stinking pit, is absolutely empty. Not a soul left.”

  The small group thought about the implications of that statement for a moment. Lowell wasn’t exactly a booming metropolis before the lights went out, but now, Scott had made his point. Any survivors still holding on in the town had either fled the arrival of the obscenely-named Liberation Army, or succumbed to their sweeps of the area. Based on what scouts had observed, coupled with the available timeline, once they’d eaten all the closest prey, the cannibals had spread out.

  “Well, let’s go pick up some more gun hands and get this cleanup started,” Max announced gruffly, and with that, the impromptu pow-wow was over.

  Their group, ten in total, might have been cramped in the two trucks available, but the four scouts, well, Scott and his three new trainees, all had one of the small dirt bikes they’d been using. The rest of their force, mainly Bobby’s group with help from James Pearson, stayed in place to cover the perimeter after their dead and wounded were evacuated.

  With Scott and Kevin up front acting as scouts, the two trucks in the middle, and Sarah and Yalonda riding drag, the six men split between the pair of pickups rode without any crowding. They planned to pick up at least one more of the trucks back at the farm in order to ferry the last twenty or so shooters to the Lowell camp perimeter. That might be a bit crowded, but Scott announced that if he wanted a spot, Mike would be welcomed to tag along.

  By this point, Scott and his team ha
d mapped out the six best ways to travel back roads to their community south of Gentry, and it was on one of these gravel paths that Scott led the return. The trip, though tense as always, ended up being uneventful and within an hour, the convoy was past the road gate and pulling into the camouflaged motor pool.

  The group scattered, with the knowledge the return would kick off in thirty minutes. Max went with Nick to search out Darwin, planning to give him the updated news, while Scott and Sarah went to check on their girls. They found them, along with half the other young ladies, working diligently at the rifle range.

  Through salvage and a little bartering, the farmstead managed to outfit the two dozen teen and pre-teen girls with a hodgepodge of rifles chambered in 22 Long Rifle. Not exactly knockdown caliber, but it worked with the skinny arms and short statures, and the young ladies took their range time seriously.

  Since ammunition didn’t grow on trees, and the rimfire cartridges couldn’t be reloaded, they alternated between their rifles and pellet guns. Today was a pellet gun day, but Scott was pleased to see the rangemaster didn’t cut them any slack because of this. You could still shoot your eye out, after all.

  Unwilling to interrupt, the two proud parents waited patiently for their daughters to finish, and then made a production of praising their groupings when the girls hurried over to show off their targets. The targets, in keeping with the theme of recycling, had been taped over numerous times, but Scott could still tell Isabella was getting better.

  As for Shay and Delilah, they were already capable of shooting a rabbit’s eye out at thirty yards. They’d proven their skill at this many times as they guarded the gardens from little furry infestations. They were well past the stage of thinking of fluffy bunnies as pets, though Scott suspected more time would need to pass before Bella joined them in the ranks of rabbit stalkers.