“Has anyone tried to fuck with you?”
“So far only twice. Last time was at least three months ago. Some Mad Max fucking biker gang. They came in from the north armed with AK’s and zero sense. We used to get more of the dead here, but we run regular sweeps. Our outer perimeter runs through some heavily wooded terrain, gives us a decent advantage. This area wasn’t real heavily populated before Hell threw up on it.”
“That explains why you’ve been so welcoming.”
“Fuck with us and see how welcoming we are, Corporal,” Mike said smirking.
They led us to a couple shitty, old picnic tables. Franklin went into the smokehouse and came out a minute later with a steaming pile of meat and several plates. Rich offered us bottles of water and the six of us sat down to an honest-to-goodness meal for the first time in as long as I could remember. Talk was light, Rich explained that he used to live in the area. He told us how he used to bring his kids to this place in the summer. I didn’t have to ask what happened to them. Franklin wasn’t from too far away either. We traded war stories, ate and I felt like a human for a while. William, as usual, wasn’t overly talkative, but he seemed to be enjoying himself nonetheless.
After we ate, Mike got back down to business. “Time to check you two in officially. Nothing too painful, little bit of paperwork, inventory your gear, check you for injuries, or bites.”
“Bites?” I had to hope he didn’t catch the crack in my voice.
Rich answered, “You ever seen what happens to somebody who gets bit, or even just scratched by one of those things? Two days, three tops, they die. Then they get back up again; and not in the miracle, praise Jesus-y kind of way. Happened to a buddy of mine, had to put him down myself.”
My scar didn’t look too much like a bite mark anymore, but I wasn’t sure how close they were going to look.
Mike continued, “I’m going to be straight with you, Corporal. This is not some kind of Shangri-La. Life at the compound probably won’t be any easier than out there in what’s left of the world, just less lonely. I’ve seen plenty of people come through here not understanding that. They think they’ll latch on to our group and everything will be hunky dory. Everyone at the compound has a job to do. If you slack, we drive you as far out into the Pine Barrens as you want to go, and we leave you there. That’s how it has to be. Resources are too scarce right now to tolerate any buddy-fucking gold brickers. If you make it through quarantine, we will take you to the compound. You will be assigned a task, your friend will too. From then on you are just another cog in the glorious machine. Hooah?”
I nodded an affirmative and Mike continued.
“Our primary objective is to keep alive the men, women, and children at the compound. I do not hold any aspirations as lofty as rebuilding civilization, hell, look at the state of it when everything went to shit. I don’t miss my cell phone or the fucking internet. At any rate, life is hard now, our responsibility, and yours if you choose, is to make sure it is no harder than necessary for those people.”
“How many?”
“You’ll find out in a few days.”
With that Mike and Rich led us into one of the small houses. Two people already quarantined waved from the top of a short staircase. They didn’t look anymore beat up than I did, well than William did anyway. Like they’d been through some shit, but these guys weren’t roughing them up.
“That’s Kim and her husband Pat,” Mike said as he nonchalantly ruffled through my duffle. “They’ve been here a couple of days now.”
Mike motioned for William’s backpack. William clutched it to his chest and looked at me. I nodded that it was okay and he reluctantly handed it over.
“I promise I won’t take anything from you, Kiddo. I just need to know what you have in there.”
William responded flatly, “Please do not call me ‘kiddo’”, paused a moment and add an overly formal “Sir.”
Mike gingerly opened William’s pack and made a show of gingerly peeking through the top. He handed it back to William who slung it over his shoulder and stared at the couple at the top of the stairs. I handed Mike my duffle without being asked, he shook it once or twice and handed it back without even undoing the latch.
“Formalities,” Mike said. “But then where would we be without them.” He chuckled and for a moment, just a moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of something under his grin.
Mike shook each of our hands, waved politely to Kim and Pat, turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Rich exited last. He nodded a polite goodbye as he closed the door. Again, that gut feeling that something wasn’t right here.
I decided to chalk it up to my nerves being fried, but as I heard the bolt slam shut, I was glad I hadn’t mentioned the Humvee.
Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales Page 23
