by John L. Monk
“Eureka,” he said.
From now on, whenever the scavengers went out, he’d get them to bring an additional charged battery with them and find a car with a full tank of gas. Preferably older, so they could siphon more easily (Greg had discovered early on that new cars were protected against such tricks). Then they’d park it here in the grass. Each car would hold at least ten gallons, as well as provide a source of useful raw materials and parts. They could run them a little every few days to preserve the batteries, like Pete’s parents had done. The meadow was so big they could stack them up a long time before running out of room.
When he entered the cabin—still grinning at his own cleverness—a quick glance around showed nobody was smiling but him, and no one was talking.
Greg bobbed his head at the newcomers. “They want to know where the rest of the gang is.”
“You said on the radio,” Steve said, just shy of accusingly. “You said you had a big gang. Threatened to come back and kill everyone. But all I see is a lot of little kids.”
Jack nodded. “We were being chased by people with guns. I said what I had to.” At the boy’s confused look, he added, “Misinformation. If you fell for it, that means they did too.”
Steve smiled halfheartedly. “Seems so, I guess.”
“But all these children,” Molly said, looking around. “How can you protect yourselves? Or my baby?”
Jack gazed levelly at her. “We’ll start by not kicking you out with winter approaching, or making you take an abortion pill. We’ll finish by keeping this place secret and killing anyone who tries to harm us.”
Steve held up his hands. “No need to get mad, man, she was just asking. So how many you got? Teenagers, I mean.”
“Seven before you came, so nine now. We don’t turn anyone away.” He nodded at Brad. “He’s got a baby brother. Would your old gang take in a baby?”
“Not in a million years,” Steve said.
“You said they had a bunch of grain. What’s their plan if it spoils? Or gets eaten by rats? Are they planning to grow their own crops?”
Molly snorted. “Those idiots? They’ll just take it from someone else. Probably starve to death.”
Jack said, “We plan to grow our own food. We’ll do a lot of other things too, like continue our educations and see if we can’t make something out of what’s left. These children, us, your baby—we’re the future. But if you want to go back, we can blindfold you and take you to your car, no problem. We’ll even give you a few gallons of gas, guns, and some of your food.”
No way was he giving back all of it, not with so many mouths to feed. They hadn’t even bagged a deer yet, and they’d only caught four fish.
Molly took Steve’s hand, looked in his eyes, and nodded.
Steve said, “We want to stay. Please. The Dragsters—that’s what they call themselves, ’cause of the checkered flags—they only got about fifty people. Mostly wimps. About eight are pretty mean, though. Carter played football with some of them.” He smiled, then laughed. “We were about to leave anyway. But we wouldn’t have found anything this nice.” He looked around, really taking it in. “This place is cool. Back in town, we had to stay in dead people houses. Even if you get the bodies out, the stink stays around. Gave me nightmares.”
Jack paused in consideration, dragging it out like he had to think about it, though he was quietly pleased. The CB in the car had been an eye-opener, and he wished he’d thought of getting some earlier—to keep tabs on the scavengers when they made their runs, if nothing else. Steve and Molly offered more than just two additional people to the group. They added their own unique knowledge and experiences.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll come up with work assignments. And when we finally get new books, you’ll study along with the rest of us.”
Steve bobbed his head up and down, eager to please. “You got it, man. Never liked school, but might like it more now seeing how there’s nothing to do.” He stuck out his hand and Jack shook it.
“Brad,” Jack said with a sideways glance at his friend, “how’s the hole coming along?”
“Haven’t started it yet. We got some of the wood today. No nails, though. I’m sure we can dig the hole, if you want.”
Jack nodded. “Awesome. How about we start Steve there?” He thought for a second. “We got any gloves?”
“You never asked us to get gloves,” Pete said grumpily.
“Right. Well, next time then.” He turned to Steve. “Just work until you can’t dig without getting blisters. We can’t risk infection, not anymore.”
Smiling, Steve said, “Absolutely. I love digging. My dad used to make me dig stuff all the time. Trees, fence posts, rocks, stumps—all kinds of stuff.”
“Ready when you are,” Brad said.
As the two filed out, Jack leaned over and said to Brad, “Thanks, man.”
“What about me?” Molly said after they’d left.
He looked her over with a considering eye. “How long have you been …?”
She placed her hands on her belly and gazed down lovingly. “Six months.”
Jack hated the idea of making only girls deal with the children, but he worried about her condition. He had no idea what pregnant people could and couldn’t do.
“For now, work with Olivia,” he said. “She’s doing really good with the kids, but there’s too many of them. I’m sure she could use the help.” He paused as something occurred to him. “I’m thinking they can help, too—the children. We could use more branches and kindling. It’s a pain to gather, and we need to get it in now, before it snows.”
Olivia grinned. “Finally, something for the little roaches to do. You’ll have so much kindling you won’t know what to do with it.”
Jack had a mattress brought into Lisa and Olivia’s room for Molly to sleep on. He brought another into Greg’s room for Steve. That way, his friends could keep an eye on both of them. Again, he didn’t think they were spies, not the way they were acting, but he also worried they might get cold feet and make a break for it in the middle of the night. If they tried, he’d have to stop them before they got to the road. Thus the hidden keys.
He wasn’t sure what bothered him more. That he might have to kill them both—one of them pregnant—to protect the secret of their location, or that he’d be too weak to go through with it.
The next week passed in a whirlwind of activity.
Greg and Steve got the outhouse hole dug to four feet deep and erected a little structure over it. For the seat, they used a hand drill and a keyhole saw to cut a hole in the middle of a kitchen chair, then secured it to the floor with hammered-in blocks. Sheets of plastic were tacked up inside to keep out the wind, and they added an overhead shelf stocked with packs of toilet paper still in the packaging.
When it was finally completed, Olivia spray painted “POOP SHACK” on the door in brown paint. Everyone thought it was funny because she’d made it look like the letters were smeared there.
At Brad’s insistence, the scavengers brought back an assortment of chainsaws for cutting firewood. They also collected a bunch of CB radios and various antennas, and Lisa puzzled through hooking up the best one inside. At her insistence, Brad hammered a ladder made from two-by-fours up along the side of the Skyline, then attached the longest antenna to the roof. Afterward, she drilled a hole through the wall and connected the antenna to the CB using a length of coaxial cable. When she turned it on, it worked perfectly.
Steve didn’t know much more about CB radios than Jack did, so they spent some time experimenting. Despite the height of the antenna, when they keyed in the frequency used by the Dragsters, they never heard more than hissing whispers of conversation.
Lisa convinced Jack to let her, Greg, and Tony go back to Centreville to hit the library just off the interstate. He didn’t like staying behind, not with that maniac Blaze in control, but he didn’t have much choice. He needed to keep an eye on Steve and Molly. They seemed all right, but he didn’t want to
leave and spend the whole time worrying if they were running off to rejoin their old friends.
The second library mission was launched at night, this time with an added element: they needed to test the range of their CB setup heading east.
It was Greg’s job to call back every mile until he stopped getting replies. They did it on one of the channels not used by the Dragsters, and managed to go fifteen miles before the transmissions failed.
Jack hoped the gang hadn’t set out a fan of scouts to monitor all stations—a sensible move if they were serious about revenge.
“No way those guys did anything like that,” Steve said with a smirk. “They ain’t much for planning.”
The four hours waiting by the radio were the longest he’d ever experienced. Regrettably, his nervousness transmitted to Brad and the others, who kept creeping over to see if he was all right.
Sometime after 3 a.m., Greg’s voice came faintly over the radio. “Anyone there? Over.”
With mingled feelings of relief and anxiety, Jack said, “Yeah, how’d it go?”
“Jeez, Jack, you’re supposed to say over. But we’re fine. Wait till you see what we got. Over.”
Even over the radio, Greg could be a real pest.
“Well what did you find?”
“Sorry—chhhh!—you’re breaking up,” Greg said, making the radio static noises himself. A few seconds later, he added, “Over!”
Jack was outside shivering in the cold when they arrived. Lisa got out of the car, then Greg, then Tony. A second later, a fourth person popped out, followed by a fifth.
Lisa’s wide smile was infectious. “Come meet Miguel and Paul. They’re brothers.”
19
Miguel was thirteen and his brother was twelve. Definitely leadership age, though Paul seemed a bit … well, it wasn’t a crime to be happy, but did he have to be so chipper about it?
The younger brother blinked and looked around, smiling so wide Jack’s face hurt in sympathy.
“Wow, this is a really cool place!” Paul said. “Look at all these cabins! Are they made of real logs? Does everyone have one or just some of you? Oh, it’s just four. Still cool, though. Who sleeps in the trailer? What’s with that school bus? You guys have a boat to go in that pond? You should totally get a boat. That’s what I’d do if I had a pond.”
“Paul,” Miguel said with suffering patience, “for the love of everything, would you please shut up? They’re not used to your noise the way I am.”
“Sure, yeah I know, sorry,” he said, pausing briefly for a breath. “Miguel, why do you think I talk so much? Sometimes I’m quiet for hours at a time, but nobody knows unless I tell them. Hey, Miguel, why’s Tony staring at me like that?”
Tony was staring at Paul with a familiar look, reminiscent of when he and Pete were going at it all the time back at the Welcome Center.
“Man,” Tony said, “tell this fool to shut the h—”
Jack said, “Quiet, Tony.” He turned to the newcomers. “Go on in and get warm. Pete, take Paul with you. Get him settled on one of the empty mattresses. If you can’t find an empty one, move someone. And keep your voices low.”
“Sure, sure,” Pete said, glaring at Paul. “Another job for me tonight. Come on, you. And stop talking so much. You’re driving everyone crazy.”
Lisa raised a hand and said, “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night. I’ll show you the books in the morning. Better than the first time.”
Moments later, it was just Jack, Miguel, and Greg standing outside. Beautiful night, lots of stars. Jack had seen satellites up there while waiting for them to return. It broke his heart that humans wouldn’t go back to the Moon or visit Mars or far off solar systems like in the books he’d grown up with. They’d lost so much.
“Sorry about Paul,” Miguel said sheepishly, pulling him from his musings. “He’s a good guy, not a bad bone in his body, but he goes on and on. He used to be on Ritalin, but it didn’t help.” He coughed a quiet laugh. “Because of him, we spent one day in the Pyros before they kicked us out.”
Greg said, “He’s talking about Blaze, Jack. The guy you told us about. They call themselves that. Pyros. Everyone’s got a gang name now. We should totally get one, too. My vote? Lava Demons. Nobody messes with lava demons.”
Miguel seemed unsure whether to laugh or nod. “Uh, yeah. That’s a good name.”
“Horrible name,” Jack said. “So, tell me about Blaze—what did he look like?”
Jack knew, but felt a certain degree of caution made sense.
“Red hair, tall, lots of zits. Asked us right off if we had pills, then threw us out as soon as Paul started up. I hope my brother’s not gonna be a problem here—he’ll be fine once he calms down.”
Jack smiled. “Your brother seems nice. How’d you run into Blaze?”
“We were heading south from Herndon, passing through Centreville in my parents’ car. They came up behind us honking, so we pulled over. Probably a dumb move, but I didn’t want them ramming us or whatever. Next thing you know they’re saying we need to join or get out of the area. They said they had food and a warm place to sleep.” He shrugged helplessly. “That guy, Blaze—he made me swear an oath never to betray him.”
“What’d you do?”
Miguel laughed. “I swore the oath! It was funny—he didn’t have anything memorized. He just made it up as he went along. Stuff like, You will always be loyal to me and my sister, no matter what, or you’ll burn in Hell forever. Now say it!” Miguel shook his head. “That’s what he said after every line. Now say it!”
Jack smiled because it was expected, but he didn’t feel happy. “You and your brother have any guns? It’s sort of a gun world now.”
Miguel shook his head. “Would have been nice, but my parents didn’t have one. Because of Paul, you know? My bro’s in a different world half the time.”
“So how did you meet my friends?”
Unlike Steve and Molly, Jack didn’t feel any sort of concern about the two new recruits. Totally different situation. Being kicked out of Blaze’s group may have had something to do with it—a mark in their favor. And they hadn’t come calling on the promise of a bigger gang.
Greg said, “Lisa found them outside the library. They seemed cool, so we invited them back.”
“Let’s go inside,” Jack said. “My place. It’s freezing out here.”
The three boys went in and Jack got the fire going. They talked a little more, mostly about the organization of Blaze’s gang, the Pyros. Despite only being there a day, Miguel had a lot of information about them: who the key members were, their personalities. Bullies, mostly. The only thing troubling was they were in contact with some of the other gangs in the area, trading things they had too much of for stuff they didn’t.
Greg grinned at his friend’s troubled frown. “He’s just a bully with red hair, man, stop worrying.”
With more heat than he’d shown all night, Miguel said, “Bunch of morons.”
They talked a little more about this and that. When Miguel started yawning, Jack told him to sleep on the couch and wished Greg a good night. Then he went to bed.
The scavengers were hauling in new stuff every day, not all of it practical. They brought fun stuff like board games, remote control cars, and art supplies. Jack wasn’t very popular when he told them to get rid of the fireworks they found, but that was fine. Someone had to be the adult.
At Jack’s instruction, they also brought cars full of fuel to stack up in the meadow near the Skyline. With so many different vehicles coming in, Jack established a signal where they beeped their horn upon entering: two long blasts followed by two short ones.
They seemed to like the work, taking to it so enthusiastically Jack was actually jealous he couldn’t tag along.
Everyone had requests.
Molly wanted maternity outfits and baby stuff.
Brad needed work boots and socks—size twelve—and toys for his brother.
Paul wanted a boat for the t
rout pond, but nobody listened to him.
Greg asked for more wood and some wire mesh to build rabbit hutches. On the second library trip, Lisa had found another book about rabbits. Her brother was sure he could raise them—even hares, if he had to—figuring modern food rabbits had to have been domesticated from wild stock thousands of years ago.
Olivia wanted compasses for the children, and white paint for marking trees. During one of their kindling expeditions, a little boy named Teddy had gotten lost. Everyone had to stop what they were doing to search for him, risking yet more lost people. It took over an hour before they found the boy curled up next to a log, shivering in the cold.
Jack was growing to hate their reliance on the technology of their parents. He wanted them getting used to doing stuff themselves, like Greg and his rabbits. To that end, following a diagram in a hunting book, he and Brad quickly built a rudimentary smoker and used it to smoke their first deer, which Brad had taken early one morning.
The older boy hadn’t enjoyed shooting it, and his disgust was quickly multiplied when Jack showed him how to field dress it.
“Ugh … how can we live like this?” Brad said, staring at the spilled mess of blood and guts after Jack slit it open with a specially hooked knife.
Jack grinned at Brad’s expression when he said they’d also be preserving—and eating—the liver, kidneys, and lungs.
“They’re tasty, once you get used to them,” he said. “A hundred years ago, we’d eat the brains, too. These days, it’s supposedly not safe anymore. I don’t know if that’s true, but why take the chance?”
Brad nodded, his face a sweaty shade of green. “Yeah. Good call.”
The smoker worked great. Basically, a wooden lattice with a tarp over it and a hole at the top. After slicing the meat, they hung it in strips while burning a slow, smoky fire beneath it using hardwood collected from deadfalls. The point of smoking wasn’t simply to get smoke onto the meat, but rather to mildly cook it while sucking out as much moisture as possible in order to halt the growth of bacteria. Or so the book said. The book also recommended salt for preservation—same principal.
