Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord

by Brown, Richard

  I got up and used the porcelain piss pot. Then I examined my face in the bathroom mirror. I was happy to see my nose looked normal and didn’t even hurt much unless I pushed on it with my finger. Dried blood in my nostrils made it hard to breathe. I cleared some of it out with a tissue. My lower ribs on the left side felt a little tender where Aamod had first punched me. Overall, I’d survived with only minor bruising and scratches. I only wished I’d delivered some better hits in return. I got my ass kicked by a guy twice my age. I needed to work on my fight game.

  I slipped out of the bedroom without waking Peaches.

  The first thing I noticed upon entering the living room was Aamod still lying on the kitchen floor. He didn’t appear to have moved at all since I went to bed.

  “He’s alive,” a deep voice said. I looked over at Robinson sitting on the couch under the large front window. Ted lay decked out face down on the recliner nearby. “You disappointed?”

  “Not really. I don’t hate Aamod even though he hates me.”

  “Well, I’d say you got a reason to hate him now.”

  “I just feel bad for Naima. Where is she anyway?”

  “Upstairs sleeping.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, she was probably up another hour or so after you went to bed. She finally got Aamod to take some pills. Then she went up.”

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Few hours maybe.”

  “You look tired. I see Ted passed out.”

  “Yeah, figured I’d let him rest some. How do you feel?”

  “Better. Rested.”

  I woke Peaches and had her sit with me in the living room so Robinson could have the bedroom for a bit. He could barely stay awake. I told him I’d keep an eye—both eyes, actually—on you know who. Before he left, he made me promise I wouldn’t let Aamod kick my ass again. Now that was a promise I could keep. If by some miracle Aamod could walk or see straight with one of his eyes swollen shut, I was sure I could handle him. And if not, I’d let Sally take care of him for me.

  Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Aamod flinched every so often over the next hour but otherwise stayed glued to the floor, as small splatter spots of blood slowly dried into a sticky sludge around him. What a tongue twister.

  Ted sat up in the recliner, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. He squinted over at me and Peaches talking quietly on the couch. “What time is it?”

  I checked my watch. “Almost nine thirty. Robinson traded places with us. He’s in the room sleeping.”

  Ted nodded and went off to the bathroom. Five minutes later he came out, put his shoes and sunglasses on, grabbed his backpack and the keys to the black truck, said he was gonna go scout around, and then left the house. Peaches and I watched through the front window as he backed out of the driveway.

  Everyone else woke up over the next half hour, starting with Naima, and then Bowser and Robinson. It took some prodding, but Naima was eventually able to get her father to wake up and sit down at the dining room table. He took some more Motrin with water and set his head down on the wood. Not wanting to be in the same room as Aamod, Bowser sat in the rocking chair out on the front porch. It’s possible he was still angry, or maybe he just wanted to enjoy the fresh morning air. But I really think he didn’t want to look at what he’d done to Aamod. The destruction. And he wasn’t alone. Peaches and I joined him on the porch, leaving Robinson and Naima inside to babysit.

  Upon stepping outside, I smelled it immediately. Peaches did too. The smell of sweet, sweet cheeba.

  Bowser took a long drag from a joint and slowly exhaled. A cloud of smoke drifted out of his mouth. “I suppose you two want a hit, huh?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

  “I ran out of cigarettes a while ago,” Peaches said. “So yeah.”

  Bowser handed her the joint and she took a small drag.

  “I thought you wanted to quit smoking anyway,” I said.

  “Cigarettes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I did. I’ve wanted to quit for a long time. But the way things are now it seems less likely, ya know. I mean what’s the point?”

  “Yep, you’ll probably be dead long before the cigarettes will kill you,” Bowser said.

  Couldn’t argue with that.

  Peaches passed me the joint right as Robinson stepped out into the doorway.

  “What the fuck you all doing out here?”

  He didn’t sound the least bit surprised when he said it. He knew exactly what was going down.

  “Oh shit,” Bowser said. “Pig’s out. Hide the stuff.”

  Robinson shook his head. “I’m not blind, you know. And I can smell it through the damn window. You been carrying it with you this whole time?”

  “Never leave home without it.”

  “You’re just as dumb as you used to be. No wonder you always got caught.”

  Bowser shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to hide.”

  Robinson looked down at the joint pinched between my fingers. A light trail of smoke drifted upward from the burning end. “You too, Jimmy?”

  “I’m just holding it,” I said, smiling.

  “I think these two are a bad influence on you.”

  “Fuck off nigga…actin’ like you ain’t never smoked,” Bowser said. “The first weed I ever got was from you.”

  Peaches and I started laughing. After a moment, Robinson gave in and laughed with us.

  “Well, one of us has to stay straight to keep an eye on you know who,” Robinson said.

  That was officially Aamod’s new name.

  You know who.

  “I haven’t smoked it yet,” I said, and offered the joint to Robinson. “So it’s all yours.”

  Peaches and Bowser both looked on captivated, wondering if Robinson would really smoke it. The former cop took the joint from me and looked to be contemplating it. Finally, he passed it off to Bowser and said, “Maybe another time.” He disappeared back into the house to check on Naima and the man who sort of resembled her father.

  Instead of taking another hit, Bowser nicely offered it back to me. “Still your turn, Jimmy. Puff and pass.”

  “Nah, I think I’ll take a rain check too,” I said. “My head still feels a little woozy.”

  My head felt fine. Robinson just made me feel awkward about smoking it right then. I had told him he was like a father to me those past few weeks—a man I admired and aspired to be like. How would it have looked if I had started smoking it right after he had chosen not to? I didn’t want him thinking I looked up to Bowser in any way other than because he was taller than me. Bowser was cool. Bowser was tough. But Bowser wasn’t a role model. Even with a secondhand smoke high, I knew that.

  Ted came back from scouting right after Peaches and Bowser finished off the joint. He pulled into the driveway and hopped out of the truck. “Any trouble?” he asked walking up onto the porch.

  “With what?”

  “With you know who?”

  “Not damn likely,” Bowser said, grinning wide. The joint had instantly put him in a better mood, as weed has a way of doing. I had a feeling smoking was part of his normal morning routine. Wake and bake.

  “What about you?” I asked of Ted. “See anything?”

  “Spotted another truck behind me up the road,” Ted replied. “Thought it was following me at first but then it turned off.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Yeah, other than that I just saw the usual stream of infected on the interstate north of here. A few scattered about in the neighborhood, but nothing too worrisome. I was thinking about going south to the river and then following it east back to the shipping dock. I’d really like to get the rest of our supplies we left there.”

  We all followed Ted inside, fished through the kitchen pantry for food, and then gathered in the living room to eat and discuss our next move. The only one not in the circle was Aamod. He stayed at the dining room table, head down on a folded towel. Not hungry, I guess.

  Ted barely
started formulating his plan to return to the shipping dock when a silver truck pulled alongside the curb outside. Everyone stood up and looked out the large front window as three people, two men and one woman, jumped out of the truck and started up the driveway. All three carried semi-automatic rifles.

  Chapter 107

  Wanting to get the jump on our visitors, Ted pushed open the door with the barrel of his AR and pointed it at the group of three coming up the porch.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Ted asked, startling them. The rest of us stayed inside, crowded behind him in the doorway.

  “Whoa there buddy,” the guy in the front said, surrendering his hands in the air. All three took a step back. “We’re not here to start trouble.”

  “I’ll ask again then…what are you doing here?”

  “Just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

  “Sure, we can talk. Just put your guns down first.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Same reason you won’t put your gun down. We don’t know each other yet.”

  Ted glanced out at the silver truck they’d arrived in. “You were following me.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “We spotted you, yes,” the main guy said. “Yesterday actually. From the helicopter.”

  “You were in the helicopter?”

  “Not me, no. I don’t like flying. Get airsick. But our pilot was out scouting around yesterday and spotted you. And that’s why we’re here this morning.”

  “You have a group?”

  “It’s not really mine. But yes. Why don’t I introduce myself? My name is Paul. Paul Pittman. Behind me are Jenson and Zoe.”

  Paul was maybe in his early fifties, average height and weight, fair skin, with brownish red hair and matching beard, both with gray sprinkled about. Glasses with a thick rectangular black frame rested atop his broad nose. His tan colored shirt, buttoned halfway up, matched his shorts, cut off just above his white scabby kneecaps. He was dressed like he was about to go poking around in the wild for snakes and crocodiles with Steve Irwin, though unfortunately he didn’t have an Australian accent.

  Crickey.

  Behind him, Jenson and Zoe waved, and then continued looking around bored. Jenson was much more intimidating in stature than Paul, like a guy that would have been a bouncer at a nightclub before the shit hit the fan. He was built like Bowser, muscles bulging out of his tight silky shirt, though he wasn’t nearly as tall. He was short and stocky with naturally brown skin. He looked like he could be Native American. His long dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Next to him stood Zoe, a twenty-something black girl wearing tight black pants and a gray cut-off shirt exposing a set of well-defined abs. Her hair was long and straight, swirling down over her small but perky breasts. On her feet was a pair of brown scuffed-up boots.

  Even with the initial introductions over, Ted kept his rifle up and trained on the leader of the pack. “Nice to meet you Paul,” he said. “My name’s Ted.”

  Ted moved aside so the rest of us could slowly make our way out on the porch. He introduced us one by one.

  “Nice to meet you all,” Paul said. “Is this everyone?”

  “There’s one more inside,” Robinson said. “But he’s a little banged up right now.”

  “How many people are in your group?” Peaches asked.

  “Hundreds.”

  “Really? Hundreds,” I said. “Where are they?”

  “They’re back at the sanctuary.”

  “The sanctuary?” Robinson repeated.

  “Well, it’s really just a junior high school, but to the hundreds that live there, it’s a sanctuary. A safe place. I used to be the school principal…but that was weeks ago. Now I spend my days like everyone else there, just trying to figure out where to go from here. How to put society back together after the collapse. It’s been a slow process so far, but I think we’re making real progress. Bringing new people in is a big part of what I do. I always get excited when we find new people. People like all of you.”

  Ted finally lowered his rifle. “So you’re here to invite us into your group?”

  “I’m here to offer you entrance if you want to take it. The group doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to everyone. If there were a leader, it would be me, but that’s only because I used to be the school principal. I have a council of people working close beside me to help keep the day-to-day operations in order. But when important decisions have to be made, we take all proposals to the people for a vote. It’s more like a community, or at least that’s what we’re working to build.”

  Robinson frowned. “A community in a junior high school?”

  “The school is just the beginning. The first stage, really. It’s crowded right now, but soon we’d like to start expanding outward, move somewhere more permanent.”

  “How did you get involved in all this?” Ted asked.

  “When the virus first swept into the city, it was total chaos. People were scared. Hospitals were overwhelmed. The roads were packed with cars and still are for the most part. Most businesses closed, or just no longer had the personnel to remain operational. Once people started to fall into comas, the government began to set up safe zones for those not sick within the first twenty-four hours. Shelters, basically. Think of it like a quarantine but for the healthy. I was closely involved with the military setting things up at my location. Well, things escalated quickly as I’m sure you know, and our school was barely operational before most of the world went quiet. We had the school fortified as best we could on short notice, had strict procedures in place for taking in the public, and were just about to open. There were maybe a hundred people in total at that time, most government officials and their families, some military, medical staff, but by the second or third day, all but a dozen of us were sick. Of that dozen, only three of us made it out of there alive once the others woke.”

  “You three?”

  “Yep,” Paul said, nodding. “Me, Jenson, and Zoe. We laid low for a few days, scavenging in the nearby woods, and then made our way back to the school to retrieve some of the weapons and other supplies we’d left behind. We were weak and hungry. Desperate. We approached the building carefully, expecting to be greeted with the sick and violent again, and were surprised to find it empty. All the sick had left. So we closed off the perimeter, cleaned up the halls, buried the dead beyond the fence line, and for another week or so made the school property our home. Slowly we got the courage to start venturing out, little by little, farther into the city. We found other survivors like us, and invited them into the shelter. On our runs we’d occasionally lose people, but we saved many more.”

  “And now you have hundreds living there?” Peaches asked.

  “We started with three. Last count I think we had three hundred and forty two.”

  “That’s a lot,” I remarked.

  “It’s not much really when you think about how many people lived in the city and the surrounding areas. It’s not equal to the number of students that attended the school before. But it is crowded. We’re reaching full capacity. And like I said, expansion is the next step. But for now we’re safe, we’re together, and we’re surviving. Ray, our helicopter pilot, used to work for the local news station. We also have a doctor and a handful of other medical staff. Engineers. A pastor. A few cops. People from all walks of life, and with all areas of expertise.”

  “I’m a police officer,” Robinson said. “Or…I was.”

  “Good,” Paul replied. “The more the better.”

  It was much easier for people to tell Robinson’s former profession when he wore the uniform. But during the week we’d spent recovering at Cathy and Brian’s house, Robinson had decided to trade in his old uniform for some cleaner clothes. We’d made due with the limited selection of basic shirts and pants at the nearby neighborhood Walmart—the one stop shop for low priced and easily disposable post-apocalyptic zombie hunting apparel.

 
“How often do you send the helicopter up?” Ted asked.

  “Not too often. Maybe every few days, and it doesn’t stay up for long. We’re mindful to conserve fuel. We mostly only use the helicopter so we can get an aerial view of the sick ones, make sure they’re not within the vicinity of the school. But the helicopter has also helped immensely at finding new survivors. If Ray spots people, like he spotted y’all yesterday, he lets us know, and we consider sending out a group to investigate. Sometimes people are too challenging to reach. We never cross the city. We’ve discovered the hard way it’s not worth the cost in lives. Lucky for all of you, this location isn’t too difficult to reach.”

  “So the school is near here?” I asked.

  Paul shrugged. “It’s west of here. Out of the city limits. Not sure how many miles exactly. It’s a drive, maybe forty minutes, but we were able to get here without much trouble. We have the problem roads mapped out pretty well. We generally know the safest routes through certain areas. The helicopter has helped a ton in that department.”

  “I want to know about the school,” Robinson said. “You said it’s crowded. You have over three hundred people already. How do you keep those people fed?”

  “We have teams that go out on regular supply runs for food and other things that we need. Often there are multiple runs during the day. There is a big neighborhood nearby that we’ve raided. Many of my former students lived in that neighborhood. There’s another almost as big not too far away that we’ve only just begun to work through. But we’ve also begun cultivating a garden in the schoolyard, hoping to grow a bunch of different vegetables. Meats are much harder to come by, of course. But we have a decent stock of canned goods on hand, and water to last us a while. We try to stay ahead of the supply so we don’t run into any issues. We even have the school cafeteria functioning again.”

  “You have a working kitchen,” Robinson said, surprised. “Then you must have power too.”

  “We do. We have a large generator. That was one of the first things the government installed early on, thank God. They brought in a big thousand-gallon tank of diesel to keep it going. It’s not designed to be a permanent solution, but it’ll work for now until we can get the regular electric back up.”