by E A Lake
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Disclaimer
Dedication
Opening Words
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
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About the Author
WWIV - THE LAST FINDERS
e a lake
Written in The United States of America by: e a lake
Beta-read by: Vanessa McCutcheon
Edited by: Allison Landy
Cover Design by: Laura LaRoche (llpix.com)
Copyright © 2017 e a lake
All rights reserved.
Exclusive Kindle Edition
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.
All events portrayed are made up in the authors mind. As such, none are real. However, they are intended to give the reader pause to consider what a completely unrecognizable future may look like. And since I get to make that future up in my head, some things just aren’t going to make sense to everyone. But I hope you enjoy the events, nonetheless.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission of the author.
Also by e a lake:
WWIV - In The Beginning, Hope in the Darkness, Basin of Secrets
WWIV - Darkness Descends (The Shorts - Book 1),
WWIV - Darkness’s Children (The Shorts - Book 2).
Stranded No Where (Book 1: The No Where Apocalypse)
Surviving No Where (Book 2)
Defending No Where (Book 3)
Searching No Where (Book 4)
Seasons - A Year in the Apocalypse
Glitched
For Darryl Dixon (of The Walking Dead)
Mostly because he is one bad ass fellow.
“We are living on the brink of the Apocalypse, but the world is asleep.”
— Joel C. Rosenberg (author)
Chapter One
“Here they come, the scum of our earth.” Sheriff Reynolds lowered the binoculars from his eyes and frowned, disgruntled with what he saw. Sitting hunched on his horse, Beau, he spat a large gob of tobacco between him and his companion. Shaking his head at the younger man, he said, “Something bothering you, Rusty?” Leo Reynolds narrowed his eyes, staring down at his deputy. “Rusty? You in there today, boy?”
Deputy Sheriff Rusty Schwab lifted his eyes quickly to meet the sheriff’s gaze. He offered the heavy sheriff a dopey smile. “What’s that, Sheriff?”
Reynolds shook his head in disgust. Young folks, pain in the behind, he thought. “You feeling okay there, son? Maybe you want to take a nap? Should I make you a fire and fetch you a blanket?” Leo rubbed his dirty face in the mid-morning sun. Maybe it was going to be warmer today, warmer than freezing. “You moron, pay attention,” he grunted and launched another gob of chew between the two horses.
Rusty glanced at Reynolds with a pained look. “Sheriff, can I ask you a question?” Reynolds shrugged. “A question about love?”
Looking away from Rusty, Reynolds replied. “You’re not wanting to talk about that silly little bride of yours again, are you?” In his peripheral vision, he saw the younger man nod his head. “What did I tell you about marrying that girl? I told you she’s too young for you.” The sheriff sighed deeply. Why didn’t Rusty ever use his head?
With a pained expression, Rusty tried to explain. “She’s 17; that’s old enough. Even her aunt said so. It’s just that she likes to have me around more. You know, not out at work four straight days and then off one, and then back on four.” Reynolds acted uninterested, which he was.
“It’s hard on her Leo, I’m at work so much. She says I know you better than I know her.” Rusty looked his boss’ way for help. Finally, Reynolds turned back to the younger man.
“Speaking of work,” Reynolds began slowly, “what do you see down on the highway?” Leo handed the binoculars to his deputy. “Tell me what they are.” Rusty pulled the dull black field glasses to his eyes and stared off to the west.
“Four; there’s four of them. Looks like three guys and a single gal. Two big packs on two of the guys. Can’t tell what’s on the other two. Just wanderers, travelers I suppose.” He handed the binoculars back to Reynolds. Reynolds shook his head at Rusty.
“Travelers?” Reynolds rubbed his horse’s mane. “You can’t be serious.” Rising in his saddle, he pointed at the small group more than a half-mile away. “They’re finders, plain and simple. Scum of the earth and scourge of my soul. They need to be stopped.” He nodded seriously at his fellow officer. Rusty stared at the group again.
“Why is it every group you see on the road has to be finders? Can’t there ever just be regular people out there? Just regular folk? I mean it could be.” Rusty shrugged.
Reynolds shook his head, incredulous. “You are such a simpleton, Rusty. I cannot believe how naïve you are. That young bride has wiped your brain clean, I swear.” Pointing towards the accused group, Reynolds continued. “Big packs, group of four. Not just one or two – four. They’re finders. And they’ve been out there stealing the open spaces blind. Taking all that stuff they steal from others and trading it for a living. Scum I say, scum.” Reynolds spat on the ground again.
Easing back in his saddle, Rusty glanced quickly in the sheriff’s direction. “So what? Who cares if they go around to all those abandoned houses out there? Not like anyone’s ever going back out to live in the country. All those folks are either living in a community or dead. Seems to me like they left that stuff to be found. So let the finders have it all. If those folks don’t care, why should we?” Rusty’s horse stepped back two paces. Rusty guided his steed forward, even with Sheriff Reynolds.
“See, it’s thinking like that…” Reynolds gave his partner a satisfied grin. “That kind of thinking allows those scum to wander everywhere and take stuff that don’t belong to them. That’s stealing, Rusty.” Reynolds nodded.
“They don’t provide one damned thing to this world of ours,” the sheriff continued. “It’s been going on 16 years since the old world vanished. They’re scum, Rusty, because they don't produce a single damned thing. As such, they are not part of helping move the new world forward.
“And they got no sense of community; they're only out for themselves,” Reynolds chortled. “Plus – and this is really huge in my mind – by finding the relics of the old world and trading them for a living, they are a reminder of what people once had – but no longer have – and will never have again.” Reynolds punctuated his speech by spitting between their horses.
&n
bsp; Rusty shrugged as if the whole diatribe meant nothing to him, which it probably didn’t.
Reynolds shook his head at the deputy. “What happens some day when the lights come back on and people go back to their homes? And everything’s gone?” Rusty shrugged again. “A lot of folks are gonna think we didn’t do a very good job out here, boy. They’ll be looking to us for answers.” The sheriff rose high in his saddle and stretched. “That’s why we’re out here. That’s why we need to stop these finders.”
With a sad look, the deputy pondered his words. “It’s been a long time now, Sheriff. Fifteen years plus.” Rusty looked sideways at his boss. “Ain’t never coming back on, ever.”
The sheriff laughed. “That don’t really matter now, does it? Our only job is to keep the open spaces safe. And part of keeping it safe means weeding out those scum.”
The sheriff reached over and patted the deputy’s dirty jean-covered thigh. “Your turn. Go get ‘em, boy. Find out exactly what they are. But mark my words, I’ll bet you three nights at the jail you’re gonna discover those four are finders. Heck, I’ll even make it five nights.” Reynolds fixed a crooked smile on Rusty. “Gonna take that bet?”
Shaking his head, Rusty began guiding his horse down the small ridge the pair sat perched upon. “Nah, don’t think so. If I take five nights alone at the jail, I don’t think Shawna will stay with me. She’ll probably go back to her momma over in Wausau.” The horse moved slowly down the trail as the sheriff called out from above.
“In the head, Rusty.” He spit one last time and used his index finger to rake the wad of tobacco from his gum. “Last one you shot in the belly. Takes them too long to die that way. Old man Ferguson told me that boy wasn’t even dead yet two days later. He don’t mind burying our spoils, he just wants them dead when he does.” Rusty continued his slow journey to the road, shaking his head as he went.
No way in hell I’m ever shooting another person in the head. Too messy. Rusty prayed these folks would have no marks. Two years in, and he was done killing people; finders for certain.
The small group of ragged souls stopped on the road and looked ahead. Two men and two women sat on the gravel shoulder, taking slow pulls from aluminum water bottles. From the rear, one of the women called ahead.
“Wilson,” she yelled, “Wilson, are you paying attention?” Sharon frowned, staring at the smaller of her two male companions. Perturbed, she called to his friend. “Tiny, poke that idiot and get his attention. We’re lost and he knows it.”
Randy Graves smiled back at Sharon and Judy, his friends. He’d known Wilson for most of his young life, some 24 years or so. The girls were relative newcomers. They’d met up with Tiny and his best friend some eight years back. He thought hard, but on his life, he couldn’t remember where the girls – cousins – were from. Sharon’s words jolted Tiny from his daydream.
“Tiny, poke that ignorant piece of dirt, would ya?” Tiny sighed and stood.
Hearing Tiny get up, Wilson’s eyes shifted and he frowned. “Tiny, so help me God, if you touch me, I’m gonna pound the living piss out of you.” Tiny smiled at his friend. The chances of that really occurring were slim and none. Jimmy was 5’10”, maybe 5’11”. And after ten years on the road, he was worn down to nothing. If he weighed 150, it was only with rocks in his shoes and pants pockets.
Staring at Tiny’s shadow, Wilson finally turned and grinned up at the gentle giant. “You know I’m just kidding, right? I’d never hit you, buddy.” Wilson stared into the face of the young man smiling at him. Tiny had a good 6 inches and 80 pounds on him. He’d never hurt Tiny, literally or figuratively.
Sharon stood and approached the guys. “If you two dog farts are done pissing around, I need to talk serious.” She patted Tiny’s arm gently while scowling at Wilson as he lay on his side in the dirt.
Grinning, Wilson addressed his travel mate. “Yes my queen, how may your humble servant be of service to you?” Tiny couldn’t help but grin. Sharon shook her head and scowled.
“Get up you idiot. We’re lost.” Cupping her dirty hand above her brow, Sharon turned north and took in the miles and miles of open fields. “These are the potato farms. We’re supposed to be north of them. North of that main road they talked about back in Menomonie.” She spun and cast a nasty glare at Wilson. “Why are we heading east? We need to go north, then east.” She stared at Wilson, demanding a reply.
He slowly got up and wiped the gravel from his hands and pants. He glanced north, then west, and finally south. He shrugged. “There’s more than one way to skin a fart. Everyone knows that, Sharon.”
Shaking her head, again, Sharon disagreed. “No dummy. They said north, then east. We have to be north of that road, that ah…” she snapped her fingers, willing the word to come to her.
“Freeway,” Judy added from behind. Smiling, she came to join the discussion. “They called it a freeway. Just a big highway I think.” She took Sharon’s hand in hers and gave Tiny a gracious smile. Looking at Wilson, her smiled faded.
Wilson flipped his hands at the group. “North then east, east then north. What difference does it make? We’ll get there one way or another. Not like we’re gonna miss it if we stay on this road.” He stared carefully at the cousins. “I think.” Tiny saw Judy’s eyes look past his best friend.
“Rider,” she said in a hushed tone. “Single man on a horse.” The group spun and faced east. Just as Judy had called out, a single figure on a horse approached at a slow trot.
Wilson looked back to Sharon and flipped his head. “Judy, get those field glasses on him. Maybe he’s not trouble. Maybe just a guy out for a ride.” Sharon’s face tightened as she continued to share a glare with Wilson.
Judy carefully focused on the single rider, judiciously studying his form. “Okay, I think he’s law. Plain brown jacket, rifle in his scabbard, pistol on his… left, I think.” Judy looked at her friends.
Wilson stepped forward, staring harshly at the figure. “Anything else? Any other markings?” Judy raised the binoculars again.
She sighed as she lowered them slowly. “Yeah, he’s got a badge. He’s law.” She frowned along with Sharon.
Wilson stepped back to his group, his people. “Okay, jackets on. Sleeves down. Act happy, and no mention of where we’ve been. Remember, we’re from Jackson, Minnesota. Just four friends making our way east in search of family and friends.” He spun quickly to gauge the distance. “Judy, what’s that town over on the east side of Wisconsin, by the lake?” He snapped at her for a quick response.
“Green Bay,” she replied in haste. “We’re headed for family in Green Bay.” Her eyes met each of her friends. They nodded in agreement.
“Green Bay,” they repeated in unison.
“Okay, nice smiles for Mr. Lawman,” Wilson added, winking at Tiny. “no need getting ourselves killed today.”
Chapter Two
Deputy Sheriff Schwab stopped his horse a mere ten feet from the group. Please dear God, let them be normal folks. He tried to smile amicably at the four, but couldn’t. The group was dirty, mangy. All were thin and looked like they’d seen much better times. These weren’t townsfolk.
“Morning, gang,” Rusty called out from high. “You all from around these parts?” Four faces returned exaggerated smiles to the lawman. The smaller of the two men stepped forward.
“Morning, Sheriff.” The stranger reached up to shake Rusty’s gloved hand. “We’re just passing through. On our way to Green Bay to hopefully find family and friends. We’re headed the right way, ain’t we?”
The man’s small talk seemed forced, tight.
“Yeah, so far you are.” Rusty shared a smile with the petite woman in the back of the group. “Where you all from?”
The large man stepped forward. “Jackson. Jackson, Mississippi,” he happily announced.
Rusty noticed the older woman biting on the side of her finger, and her eyes clamped shut.
The shorter man grimaced and shook his head quickly. “Jackson,
Minnesota, he means,” He nodded back at the monster. “He’s big, just not real bright, Sheriff.” The pretty one came to the tall man’s dejected side, clutching his arm.
Rusty glanced from person to person. Damn it, finders. He began slowly. “First off, it’s deputy. Not sheriff. The Sheriff is back up on that hill watching us.” He poked his thumb over his right shoulder at the hill 800 yards behind. “Next, he seems to think you’re a group of finders. Wanted me to check. You know the drill. Left arms exposed. Let’s go.”
Rusty noticed the pretty woman’s bright gaze. She stepped forward to stand in front of him.
“What’s a finder, deputy?” she asked in the sweetest, most innocent tone. Rusty stared deep into her glistening, small brown eyes. Finally, he looked away and back to the older woman.
“Left arms please. Let’s make this quick.” He withdrew a thin piece of long, pointed metal from his jacket pocket. The short man and the older woman shared an anxious glance. I wonder what I’m gonna find? Rusty wondered.
Chapter Three
Rolling up her sleeve, Judy rushed the deputy. “Here, Sheriff. Look at my arms. No marks.” She smiled broadly at the lawman. “We aren’t finders, just a group of friends traveling. That’s all.”
Judy noticed the deputy look past her towards the others. “That’s all nice and sweet, young lady. But I’d like to see all of their arms first.” Motioning at the others, he continued. “If they don’t have no marks, I won’t give you any.” He lightly patted Judy’s thin, pale arm and walked past.
Tiny stared at the lawman, towering over him. Slowly, he raised the shirtsleeve on his left arm. The deputy grabbed his wrist and spun it to look at the underside of the forearm. A long, narrow scar ran down it. The mark of the finders. The deputy grimaced.
