by TW Brown
“Leave him,” Clint said with a shrug. “He ain’t our problem. As for our own mayor…he has some explaining to do when we get back.”
“What about me?” Darlene asked, defiance still strong in her voice despite her obvious disadvantage when it came to her current situation.
“What about you?” Catie snapped, pressing the tip of the sharp blade just enough to break the skin and allow a single drop of blood to well up and escape, sliding ever-so-slowly down her grime-covered flesh.
“Maybe we should bring her along and ask her a few questions,” Kevin suggested. He did so with a little extra volume in order to (hopefully) get the message to Catie that he would prefer her to remain alive for the time being.
“That ain’t a bad idea at all,” Clint agreed. “I sure would like to know who these folks are and what brought them to these parts.”
“I ain’t tellin’ you a damned thing!” Darlene spat with a barking laugh that matched her already unpleasant demeanor.
“Yes,” Kevin nodded, “that is usually how it starts. It is my experience that a person changes that tune once their situation becomes dire enough that they wish for improvement.” He glanced around and saw a wide and varying degree of confusion on the faces of everybody except Catie. That was to be expected, she had long since learned to decipher his words into their simplest forms.
“Once the torture or depravation takes enough of its toll, she’ll talk,” Catie said in clarification. This received nods from Clint and the others. From Darlene it was greeted with lips pressed tight and the slightest hint that she might be coming to the realization in regards to her current situation.
“You see,” Kevin pulled his walking stick free from where it had been secured to his pack, “there once was a time when it was considered improper to harm a woman. These days, most of the old conventions are null. Everybody is on the same playing field. The champions of women’s equality would be thrilled to know that it only took a zombie apocalypse to bring about that which they sought.”
“In other words, he is not going to have one teensy problem beating the answers out of you if it becomes necessary,” Catie stage-whispered with a smirk.
“However, I think we have created enough noise that it would be best if our hosts were to be so kind as to escort us back to their camp.” Kevin took the reins of the horse that was still carrying his pack and turned to Clint with a nod that he should lead the way.
Catie, following Kevin’s lead, swiped up the reins on the horse that had hers. Clint remained still.
“Is there a problem?” Kevin asked.
“What do we do with them that is wounded?” Clint gestured to the three men and one other woman who had not perished in the fight.
Two of the four were not even able to sit up, and one was holding his stomach where somebody had caught him good with a knife. Kevin realized that one of the individuals sitting up had been the headsman.
“Leave them.” Kevin shrugged his shoulders. He saw the looks of concern that Clint and his men wore. “Is that a problem? Didn’t you just say the same thing about the mayor and his daughter?”
“Well, I know they was just tryin’ to kill y’all, and that they did kill a couple of ours including Jeb’s boy, but I just don’t think that anybody deserves to die at the hands of a zombie. Jerold and his daughter are immune, so they at least have some chance. Can’t we at least end the misery of them that is hurt beyond help?”
Kevin turned to the headsman. “You want us to just kill you and end it?” The man shook his head emphatically just as Kevin guessed. He looked back at Clint with an expression of questioning.
“How about them?” Clint pointed to the pair that were unconscious and not able to answer.
Again Kevin turned to the headman. “You want us to at least take care of your buddies?” Once more the man shook his head.
“But—” Clint began. It was Catie who cut him off.
“The whole idea of folks wanting a merciful death is mostly fiction,” she explained. “It seems like a good idea until it is your own death that you are sanctioning. There is no greater well of hope than that which resides within the human spirit.” She shot Kevin a look as if to confirm she had gotten her lines correct. He gave her a nod and salute in response.
Over the years together, Kevin had discovered that he and Catie had a lot in common. Both were avid readers, and both were often underestimated. Him, due to his less-than-athletic stature, and hers because she was, as Kevin often put it, barely a slip of a gal.
As their relationship blossomed, Catie and Kevin spent hours talking about anything and everything. As Kevin’s mother used to say, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” It was actually Catie that told him that was an old Proverbs verse from the Bible. Their relationship became so much more than his and Aleah’s had been. In part, because Kevin never felt the need to try and save Catie from any of the horrible things out in the world. Chances were that she had already seen them and then some.
Catie’s former life as a soldier in the United States Army had made her into a warrior. She had seen combat and faced down living, breathing human enemies. In fact, it was Catie who eventually taught Kevin a thing or two about fighting. An avid lover of martial arts, Catie was a force to be reckoned with in a brawl. That was something that, much as it had today, had saved their collective asses on many occasions. This was not the first time that their potential captors had ignored her to their peril.
By that same token, as she taught him to fight, he taught her about the things he had gleaned from his years as a prepper-in-training. He also spent many nights regaling her with detailed recounts of his favorite horror movies and books.
Eventually, people in the community began to notice the changes, but it was Aleah that actually voiced it. “You two are so much alike now, that it is scary. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you guys went through some sort of Freaky Friday transformation.”
That was after Catie had given a speech about why it was in the community’s best interest to start building a perimeter defense that had nothing to do with firepower. She had laid out a very detailed and cohesive plan involving fire and sound that would act as a distraction for any zombie herd that crossed inside a ten mile perimeter.
Kevin smiled over at Catie in approval and agreement of her statement regarding a person’s instinct at self-preservation. While it was clear that Clint and his companions were still not completely at peace with the idea of leaving the three men to die in what they knew had to be a slow and painful death (made all the more likely when a chorus of low moans carried on the breeze announcing the arrival of at least a few zombies) they could not dispute that the offer for a “merciful” death had been rebuked.
“Should we at least leave them their weapons?” Clint asked, looking nervously in the direction that the sounds of approaching zombies were coming from.
“Makes no difference to me,” Kevin replied with a shrug. “That axe is impressive looking, but I highly doubt it is functional against a group of the walking dead. Too unwieldy.”
Catie pulled a strip of leather from a pouch that dangled from her pack and turned back to Darlene. She motioned for the woman to present her wrists. Kevin was actually surprised that the woman did not refuse. However, for all her bluster, he was willing to bet it was a lot of talk. The deeper her situation sunk in, the more likely she would be to cave and spill the beans on any others like her that may be in the area.
A few of Clint’s men took hold of the other horses after cutting the mayor’s daughter free and the group fell into line for the trip back to their community of Falling Run. One by one, everybody fell in single file. Catie took the second position right behind Clint with Darlene. Kevin migrated back towards the rear.
As they walked, his eyes were on constant scan mode as Kevin tried to ascertain any sorts of defenses these people might have in place. He had multiple reasons for this; the first being the fact that he wanted to know
just how well-protected the place would be against an attack of either human or the zombie variety. The second reason was that, if he and Catie were actually going to consider this place as a possible home, he wanted to know what measures had been taken and what he would have to try and improve once he could do so without ruffling feathers.
That sentiment was one that he had learned from his time with Catie. On more than one occasion, she had reined him in when he started to get pushy. She never hesitated to let him know when he was making, as she so bluntly put it, “a complete horse’s ass” of himself.
He was not easily impressed, but he had to admit that these people seemed prepared on multiple fronts. He spied a series of catwalks in the trees overhead. Those could be handy for either threat. Also, there were several tall berms laid out in an overlapping pattern. Most had deep trenches on the other side. Again, these would slow forces of both sorts, but it would be especially detrimental to the undead. If they did manage to climb the steep dunes made of dirt and gravel, they would most assuredly tumble into the pits on the other side. All that would remain was for people to come along and dispatch of the creatures at their leisure.
When the town proper came into view, again, Kevin was mildly impressed. The walls were built at an angle outward with towers set at regular intervals. The open ground, that looked to be kept clear via burning, was laced with coils of razor wire, barbed wire fences, more pits and berms, as well as a series of concrete bunkers with no apparent doors to allow access.
“Like those?” a man said, coming up beside Kevin.
“Tower on top for an archer as well as slits around the structure…most likely for stabbing out. I would imagine you can only access it via underground tunnel?” Kevin turned to the man who was staring at him in open-mouthed disbelief.
“I was awful proud of that…‘til now anyways,” the man said with a mix of disappointment that his tricks had been so easily pointed out, and awe of that very same thing.
“We have something similar back where we lived,” Kevin said, making an extra effort to show appreciation in his voice just like Catie taught him. “I thought I was so smart…looks like somebody here is giving me a run for my money in that department.” Sure enough, the man’s disappointment turned to a beaming smile of pride.
“My idea.” He hiked a thumb to indicate the squat structure.
“Nice.”
The rest of the trip all the way to the gate, the two men shared details on specs and a few of the design issues they had to overcome along the way to perfecting such a solid perimeter defense construct. More than once, Kevin noticed some of those close by scowling in disapproval as a piece of their special defense measures were shared with a stranger.
“Coming in!” Clint’s voice announced from the front of the column. “Lost three, bringing in one prisoner and two non-hostiles.”
The sound of a massive crank being turned made its presence known. A flock of birds took flight in response with a flutter of wings and a series of angry chirps and squawks. Kevin was not surprised to see an armed reception waiting just inside the gates.
“The two newbies,” a man said, stepping forward, pointing at Catie and Darlene, “step over here.”
“Actually,” Clint took Darlene by the elbow and pushed her forward, “this is the prisoner.”
“So where is the other newbie?” The man who had stepped forward was scratching his head.
“Back here,” Kevin called as he stepped up, taking his place beside Catie.
“And we need to speak to the mayor,” Clint added. He leaned forward and whispered into the man’s ear. Kevin watched as his expression darkened, obviously not liking what he was hearing from Clint. His eyes darted over to where Jeb stood with a forlorn expression and eyes closed in obvious sadness.
“Take the newbies to the doctor’s office, take the prisoner to the holding area,” the man finally ordered after Clint stepped back. “Jeb, I am damn sorry. Now…” the man’s shoulders visibly slumped, “I gotta make a pair of house calls. Clint, could you come with me, please?”
A trio of the people that had been part of the armed reception committee stepped forward and ushered Kevin and Catie to a white building. As they headed for it, Kevin looked around. He was immediately reminded of Mayberry. He could not shake off the instant feeling that this was where he and Catie belonged.
They were in what made up the main part of town. There were at least a dozen buildings of varying sizes and shapes. People were going about a rather ordinary and peaceful day. He did not even see any signs of alarm about the fact that a nearby settlement was burning to the ground. Whether due to an obliviousness of the situation, or complete ambivalence, these people were acting like they did not have a care in the world. In fact, if not for the walls with roving lookouts, you would be hard pressed to see any signs that a zombie apocalypse had ever taken place.
Life was returning to normal and humanity was reclaiming their place in the order of things. For better or worse.
***
“How many times do I have to answer the same questions?” Kevin was struggling to keep his cool.
“In my experience, folks don’t just up and decide to cross over half the breadth of what used to be the United States just to confirm that their family is dead. Most folks took those trips about ten or twelve years ago,” the man said calmly.
Kevin was in a small room that reminded him of every questioning room he had ever seen on any television cop show. If this was how they were treating him and Catie as guests, he was really curious what sort of treatment Darlene was getting
The man sitting across from him had introduced himself as Craig. When Kevin asked “Craig what?” the man had shrugged and said, “Just Craig.” Kevin had tried to make a Cher/Madonna joke, but the man had simply pointed to the chair that he wanted Kevin to sit in, and he had taken the other, effectively putting a table between them that was wide enough so that neither could actually reach the other if such an urge were to arise.
“I was having nightmares.” Again, this was something that Kevin had been repeating for what felt like the better part of an hour.
“It just seems awful suspicious that you show up the same time as these other folks that allegedly burned Rock Ridge.”
“Are you people really that entrenched in the past?” Kevin said with a sarcastic laugh adding a sharpness to his tone.
“Entrenched in the past?” the man asked with what had to be genuine confusion based on his expression.
“Alleged? Didn’t we do away with that crap a long time ago? That was a construct of our ACLU-based society. The days of a person being caught with a bloody knife in his hand and claiming innocence is over, don’t you think?”
“And what if that person just happened on the scene?”
“You were a lawyer back in the day, weren’t you?” The man’s red face confirmed Kevin’s suspicions. “And so now you are…what? Head of security? Chief of police?”
“I don’t see what any of this had to do with the reason we are here, which is you and your coincidental arrival on the heels of some sort of terrorist faction that apparently has an issue with people who express immunity.”
“And you think I am part of them?” Kevin asked.
“Using your own logic, you are the one standing with a bloody knife in your hand…so to speak. Perhaps you are right, maybe alleged is a thing of the past. Maybe circumstance is all that is needed in lieu of actual proof.” The man smiled like the cat that ate the canary. Kevin had to appreciate how his own argument was being used against him, but he still had an ace up his sleeve.
“And if I can prove categorically that I could not be associated with those lunatics?” Kevin kept his poker-face on and showed no emotion.
“I don’t see how—” the man began, but Kevin cut him off.
“And you do acknowledge that these people are obviously agenda driven and seeking to wipe out any who might be immune?”
“Well…yes…” the man
answered slowly, obviously sensing a trap.
Kevin stood deliberately so as not to incite the man to try and restrain him. He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his shirt. There on his arm was a long-healed bite scar.
“I am pretty sure that would get me kicked out of their reindeer games.” Kevin pointed triumphantly at his arm.
For one of the few times, he was glad that the cat scratch had not been his only injury. While it had been proven long ago that cats were carriers, and that a person could catch the zombie contagion through them, those little scratches had not been enough to leave any sort of scar.
“Son of a…” Craig’s voice trailed off as he eyed the scar. With a grin, he stood and slung his leg up onto the table. Pulling up his pants, he turned his leg to show a horrendous scar on his calf.
“Damn,” Kevin breathed, leaning over to take a closer look. “That looks like the Roger wound from the original Dawn of the Dead. You weren’t by chance trying to hotwire a truck, were you?”
“I was trying to get over a fence,” Craig admitted. Then, with a sheepish grin, he added, “That was about seventy pounds ago.”
“I hear that,” Kevin agreed, plopping back down into his chair. “That is something the books and movies missed unless they were trying to just make a point of showing people starve.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is no more junk food. Or at least there wasn’t for a few years. Our community has a few ingenious cooks that make some pretty tasty treats, but nothing like the old days.”
“I’d kill my best friend for a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.” Craig got a faraway look in his eyes.
“Okay,” a voice barked as the door flew open. “I think we have heard enough.”
The man that had disappeared with Clint just after their arrival, entered the room. Clint was on his heels, and when Kevin craned his neck, he saw Catie standing in the hallway beyond with a tight-lipped smile on her face.
