Beginning of the New Beginning Vol 3

by W. Joe Taylor

  They snuck in and quietly closed the door behind them. The inside didn’t smell too bad. There was a faint hint of rot, but nothing assaulting. They were sneaking past the offices when they heard someone moving around in the breakroom. The three posted around the door, and Bill burst through it, weapon first. He saw a man wearing boxers and a white t-shirt. Startled, the man threw a bowl of cereal straight up. Milk and tiny brown circles went everywhere, and there was a small, emasculating scream.

  “We don’t want to hurt you. Just don’t make any sudden movements,” Bill said.

  “Who? How did you get in here?”

  “My friend here picked the lock on the back door. I’m guessing you live here now?”

  The man, standing there with milk soaking into his shirt and his arms in the air, just nodded.

  Bill looked around and didn’t see any immediate threat. He lowered the muzzle of his Sig slightly.

  “You alone? Or do we need to go round up your friends?”

  “No. Nobody else. I’m here alone.”

  “Good. You and I are going to stay here while my friends go look around. Whether or not your story checks out will determine what we do from here. Am I clear?”

  The man just nodded.

  Cootch and Q ducked back out the door, and it swung closed gently.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Uh, since the beginning. I’m the general manager of the store. I was here early, working on the books and getting things ready for the day. I saw the news reports on the TV I have in my office. I boarded up the windows hoping that when this blew over, corporate would give me a promotion or a raise.”

  “Ah, so, have you been outside at all?”

  “Yea, there is a Home Depot up the street a couple of blocks. I ran up there and grabbed some wood and other supplies. There was one of the sick people in there. I had to keep leading them away and running back to get more wood. It was exhausting. But that was before noon on the first day. I have been here ever since.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a while to be alone. What’s your name, dude?”

  “Kenny Kussatz. I used to read a lot of horror novels by the famous writers, you know? I always thought I would handle it better than I did. Thought I would be ready. But then I discovered it’s safe here. I had a couple of people try to break in a week ago. But I shot at them from the roof. Haven’t heard from them since.”

  “His story checks. Store is all clear,” said Cootch as they walked back in.

  “Well, Kenny, I’m Bill, this is Cootch, and that is Q. So, here’s the situation. We have a large group, women and children included. We’re going to central Washington to start a new community. And were going to load up a semi full of food from here. You can join us, you can resist us and probably end up dead, or you can stay, but let us take what we need.”

  “But what about my promotion?”

  “Kenny, there isn’t going to be one. We have been from Texas to New York, Indiana to North Dakota, Colorado, and now we’re here. There is no government coming to eradicate the problem, no cure, no vaccine. There never will be a corporate anything ever again, not in our lifetimes. I would like it if you joined us. Strength in numbers and all that shit.”

  “Yea, ok. That sounds good. So, uh, you guys have any single ladies in your group?”

  “Hmm. Kinda. But most of them lost their spouse or life partner in the last two weeks. So, good luck with that.”

  Cootch and Q chuckled and shook their heads.

  “Kenny, get yourself cleaned up, collect your things, and we’ll start doing what we do.”

  Thirty minutes later, most of Dennis’s truck was plumb full of pallets of food, with more boxes and crates of toilet paper stacked on top of the pallets. He was eyeballing the tractor trailer in the stall next to his.

  “You know anybody that can drive that thing?” Dennis said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

  “I don’t think I do. Our only chance is Mr. Corporate,” replied Bill. “Let me go ask him.”

  Bill found him in his office, staring at a plaque for some award he’d received.

  “Hey, Kenny. Sorry to interrupt your alone time, but we were wondering if perhaps, maybe, you knew how to drive an eighteen-wheeler.”

  “Huh. I thought my long-haul days were over. I used to. Until my back went to shit. After that, I went to school and got my business degree.”

  “Well, as your indoctrination into the crew, I need you to drive the one at the loading docks now. It’s only about a three-hour drive, so your back should hold out. Right?”

  “Yea, fine, I guess. But uh, isn’t the driver still in it?”

  “Nah, we already took him out. He was making too much noise and was going to attract company. Besides, we’re trying to air out the cab a bit. You know, just in case.”

  “In case what?”

  “We found someone to drive it. And you’re the man.”

  “Swell.”

  When truck number two was almost full, Bill pulled Kenny aside again.

  “Hey, man, do you know if there are any Army bases nearby?”

  “Actually, I do. So, I guess you’re serious about no more government if you’re going to be stealing from the Army.”

  “Yea, you didn’t notice the fancy helmets?”

  “Well, yea, but I thought maybe you guys were just seriously into airsofting before, well, you know.”

  “HAHAHAHA! No, dude. Some of us are ex-military, but this will not be the first Army base we’ve cleaned out.”

  “Ok, well, it’s actually just on the other side of the freeway and up Seltice Way a few miles.”

  Bill pulled out a map of the area, and Kenny showed him where it was. Bill then walked over and showed Dennis.

  “You sure you want to hit another one almost three weeks into this gig? I’m sure it’s been cleaned out by now.”

  “You’re probably right, man, but I want to at least check it out. You never know. Look how much shit we got from Red Wing.”

  “Yea. That’s true. I guess it’s at least worth checking into.”

  It was noon by the time they could not pack anymore into the two semi-trailers. Bill made sure Kenny was fitted with a helmet and an M4 before they headed out. Kenny said he’d been an avid hunter in the past and knew how to handle a gun. Bill felt confident that Kenny wouldn’t be alone in a firefight for a long while. Dennis followed the directions Kenny had given them, and once again, Kenny proved to be right.

  The Army Reserve center had definitely been ransacked already, but just like before, whoever had done it had only taken what they could carry and had left ninety percent of everything behind. Being a large building for a large population center, the group found pallets upon pallets of MREs, boxes of Operational Camouflage Pattern uniforms (OCPs), and the ever-important armory. The armory was still locked, and Cootch had a helluva time cracking that one.

  “Hey, Cootch, man, if you can’t get it, we will be fine with what we have,” said Bill

  “Not now, chief. I’m in the zone.”

  Bill walked back out to where everyone was gathered.

  “Ok, people, I want to load up the goods into whatever trucks they have here. Just about all of our rigs are filled to capacity as it is. Besides the guard detail, it’s going to be all hands on deck,” Bill said to everyone.

  They cleaned the place out of all ammo, grenades, MREs, and OCPs. They loaded everything into the back of three olive-drab M939 five-ton trucks (the big brother to the old deuce and a half’s). The chosen three had the canvas covers over the cargo beds to keep everything dry if it rained or snowed. Bill, Q, and Cootch were going to drive M939s the rest of the way to the ranch. They also had Shannon and Kathrin drive a couple APCs. Bill didn’t want to let them go this time.

  “Dude, are you sure about this?” Cootch stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands on his hips. “I mean abso-fucking-lutely sure? We are spread so fucking thin right now taking five additional trucks.”

/>   “Fuck yea, I’m sure. Does a bear shit in the woods? Now nobody will mess with us going through Spokane. They will think it’s the Army. And the only other town we will pass through is Moses Lake. It’s a small farming town where the freeway passes through the southernmost part of it. No worries, man.”

  “Ok, fine. But I think you’re getting greedy and putting all of us in jeopardy.”

  “You’re probably right, but I’m not letting this go. We will need those APCs. I just know it. They are too valuable to me now. Something is telling me to not leave them. You’re going to have to trust me on this one, buddy. If shit goes wrong, you can personally choke the living shit out of me,” Bill said confidently.

  “You’re goddamn right I’m going to.”

  They got back on Interstate 90, heavier and larger than life. They were also a lot slower than before. Dennis’s truck was not able to maintain the speeds it had before, and the M939s had a top speed of sixty mph. An hour and a half later, they pulled into a truck stop in the small town of Ritzville for gas.

  There was nothing around the store but miles of dusty tan wheat fields, and the town was on the other side of the freeway. In terms of keeping watch, this was one of the easiest gas stops they had made so far. Because of the setup of the in-ground tanks, they could only fill one vehicle at a time. One side was nicely landscaped with small bushes and pine bark for ground covering. The other side had a pull-through for tanker trucks. Luckily, the only ones that needed fuel were the Army trucks. They also filled all the propane tanks at the propane station.

  Another hour later, as they passed through Moses Lake, Bill broke the monotony.

  “Hey, y’all. Here is what has been affectionately called Moses’s Hole since I was a little kid. ’Cause that’s what this place is.”

  “Father, there is someone on the ham radio trying to talk to us,” Sally said.

  “Find out what they want.”

  “They said, ‘Welcome home, RV people.’”

  “Tell them thanks, but don’t tell them where we’re going if they ask.”

  “Ok. Why?”

  “We don’t want any surprises later. If they need something, we can come back later. But for now, we need to get home and get things set up.”

  The convoy turned off the highway for the last time as a large group, twenty-one vehicles total. They were almost half a mile long. The small valley they entered was about a mile wide at the mouth. The bottom of the walls consisted of brown and moss-covered rock that had broken off the sides and built up over thousands of years. It created slopes that reached halfway to the top. The top half of the valley walls were straight up and down. Along the top of the valley were smaller valleys that served as water runoffs during the spring melt. The plateau above was rolling hills.

  The ten miles up the coulee to the ranch were the most exciting to Bill. He had gone up and down this road more times than he could count. He passed the tiny red-trimmed-with-white schoolhouse where he’d had the same teacher for three years—not because he’d failed, but because the same teacher taught third, fourth, and fifth grade in the same classroom.

  Bill stopped his M939 fifty yards back from the driveway to the house. He shut off the rig and got out. D and her sniper team hopped out and took their usual places.

  You can never be too careful; you never knew who might be hiding and who might want what you have, even here. Bill thought.

  Sam and Sally got out of the vehicles they were in and met Bill at the front of the line. The three of them walked up the driveway to Bill's dad's house. It was a long gravel driveway that led directly to the farmhouse with grass fields on either side. Maxwell came out to greet them and gave the girls big hugs.

  "I'm so glad you made it. We were so worried. And then your sister and her friends took off last night. You have to go find them,” he said, half relieved and half fearful.

  "It's nice to see you too, Dad, but Candice found us this morning. Just about gave us a heart attack. They are lucky we didn't shoot them. Times are hard out there, and you can't trust anybody."

  “Really? That’s great.” The pinched look of panic washed away from Maxwell’s face. “We lost a lot of good people around here. We haven't left the coulee in almost three weeks now."

  "I'm glad you're doing well though. So, um, as you can see, I need parking. A lot of it. And tomorrow, we have a lot of work to do. But the good thing is, I brought plenty of help. And I have a gut feeling more help will be here in a few days."

  Maxwell just gave Bill a quizzical look.

  "Trust me. Everything is going to be just fine. So, about that parking?"

  "Oooh weeellll! Let's just have everyone line up in the east field over th… Is there a person on top of that camper? What are they doing?"

  "Yes, Dad. That’s my friend D. She is doing lookout and guard duty right now."

  “Alrighty, then. Are you worried the coyotes are going to steal your stuff?" Maxwell said with a hint of smile at the corners of his mouth.

  "Yes, Dad, that's exactly it. Ok, let me get everyone in and situated, and we will talk more in a bit."

  After the campers were all lined up and the two semi-trucks were parked next to the house, Maxwell walked up to Bill with three guys in tow.

  “Bill, I want to introduce you to some people,” Maxwell said. “Neil Ortiz, Patrick Williams, and Brad Alexander. We call him BA for short. They all live up the road and have been helping me and your Uncle Walter keep an eye on things around here. If it hadn’t been for Patrick stockpiling food, we would have been screwed.”

  “Well, thank you, Patrick, for helping everyone,” Bill said.

  “You’re welcome. So, now that you’re here, what’s the plan?”

  “Let’s rest tonight, and we will talk more tomorrow. But basically, I want to secure the valley and build our own infrastructure.”

  “Well, that sounds admirable, but no matter what we do, it’s going to be the end of mankind,” said BA.

  “BA, stop being so negative,” said Neil. “I love how we have banded together. I mean, look at all the people that showed up today.”

  “Maybe you have a point. But I still don’t think it will last long.”

  “BA, if you give us a chance, I’d like to prove you wrong,” said Bill.

  “Yea, sure. I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  Later that night, everyone was chilling by a fire, relaxing. A few of the guys were drinking Scotch and smoking cigars. The kids were all roasting marshmallows again. Brad and Danielle included. They had depleted D’s stash and gotten more at the Idaho Costco. The conversation was light, and they had agreed to keep up the watch rotations because they didn’t know if anyone would follow them, good or bad. That night, Bill slept like the dead.

  Chapter 11. Sandpoint, Idaho.

  Sandpoint Idaho was a recreational paradise and playground for wealthy vacationers built along the pristine blue waters of Lake Pend Oreille and just an hour and a half’s drive northeast of Spokane, Washington.

  It had been sixteen days since the world had changed. Jeff Kollas was walking his normal rounds along the perimeter fence. Shortly after the initial shock of the dead walking, he’d gathered his friends and fellow survivors. They had sectioned off two blocks of the western part of Ponderay, a suburb of Sandpoint. Using cars stacked on top of each other, city busses, and any materials they could easily scrounge up, they’d built a wall. Jeff’s crew had built a safe haven that encompassed a Home Depot, a hotel, a liquor store, a sporting goods store, and a Walmart. Everyone lived in the hotel, and no one went outside the wall unless it was absolutely necessary.

  "Jeff, can you come to the northwest gate at Highway 2, please?" Jeff grabbed the small department store walkie-talkie off his belt.

  "Yes, I'm almost there now. What's up?"

  "There are some guys in a large four-wheel-drive truck that just showed up.”

  "Copy. Be right there."

  Jeff jogged the rest of the way and climbed
the wooden stairs they had built to the catwalk at the top of the wall. He looked down on the truck. It looked like something a person might have built if they’d had too much money. Back before the world turned to shit and money actually meant something. It had big tires, a lift kit, lights all over the place, steel bumpers, and a tonnaeu cover you could stand on.

  "They say anything?" Jeff asked the guy to his right.

  "Naw. Just that they were looking for their friends."

  "Well, we haven't had anybody come by since those fucks from Newport tried to get in last week. You think it's them trying to make a play?"

  "I don't think so. That truck has Montana plates on it."

  "Right, good call. I'm going out there to talk to them. If you see anything fishy, anything at all, light ’em up."

  "You got it, man."

  Jeff walked back down, and the guard opened the gate just enough so Jeff could squeeze through. The late-afternoon sun was beaming in through the windshield, and he saw two men in the front seat who looked tired and worn out, though they didn’t look dirty or like they hadn’t showered in a long time. He thought he saw movement in the backseat but couldn't be sure. He stopped parallel to the driver's side front tire and was about twenty feet away from the truck.

  "How can we help you?" he asked the man in the driver seat. He stood so his left side was towards the driver and his hands were in front of his waist with his fingertips touching.

  "Afternoon," said the driver with a southern drawl. He put his arm out the window and leaned his head out.

  "We were curious if you have a ham radio that's working. We got separated from our friends yesterday and need to contact them."

  "No, I don't think we do,” Jeff said with a quizzical look on his face. “Why don't you get one from a nearby town somewhere and hail them yourselves?"

  "You see, the trouble is, we don't know how to work one. And since the power went out, we’re not sure how to power it either."

  “Oh, I see. Well, I don't know if we can help you, then. Sorry, friend.”

  Jeff started to turn back to the gate and leave the men to fend for themselves.