Parker: The Story of an Apocalypse Survivor: COMPLETE SERIES

by Ben Stevens

Parker thanked the man, then looked back at Webb and Lane. Neither appeared to have realized what Danny had felt in Parker’s jacket – or more likely they didn’t even care. Hardly strange that Parker should be carrying a gun on him, after all; not in this kind of world.

  But here Parker was, butt-naked, in the company of two men – one of them an ex-Special Forces soldier – and his gun was out of reach. And yet he was also currently relaxing in a beautiful river as the sun slowly set, his nostrils now catching the scent of frying fish.

  On the basis of this evidence, thought Parker, he had to assume that he was safer than he’d been in a long time. These were good people – that was all.

  ‘Well,’ said Lane, as he began to wade towards the shore. ‘That was a good soak. But now I’m hungry. What say we eat?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Webb.

  ‘Me too,’ said Parker.

  The flesh of the large fried fish fell easily away from the bone and was an absolute delight to eat. There was corn, too, the meal served on metal plates and eaten with a fork. The men, women and children sat around the fire – but one man remained outside the circle, patrolling the perimeter of this small ‘encampment’ (or whatever the correct word was, thought Parker) with a rifle.

  Upon his return from the river, he’d produced a razor and shaving foam from his rucksack and asked if there was anywhere he could get some hot water. This had been boiled up and given to him in a wooden bucket. After he’d shaved, Granny Smith had demanded his presence in her hut.

  He’d entered, to see Abby sleeping peacefully in a small, box-like bed. She’d clearly been washed, and her cheeks now had a healthy rosy complexion. There was a tall glass of water by her bed, and a plate with some sort of mashed-up vegetable or plant on it.

  ‘Nothing the matter with this one,’ declared Granny Smith brusquely. ‘Be right as rain perhaps soon as tomorrow. Good strong pulse.’

  Parker earnestly thanked her and was immediately dismissed... And now here he was sat around the fire, watching the flames flicker almost hypnotically in the darkness. A woman with kind, slightly mysterious eyes came over to him and asked him if he’d eaten enough. Parker replied that he had. He found himself wondering about the relationship between the men and women here. Several sat together in pairs – and there were children.

  Parker already felt as though he belonged here. Could just stay – he knew that. Learn the skills needed to live out in this environment; help out within this small community. Other children for Abby to play and grow up with...

  Far, far better than the life they’d both been experiencing until recently. Shit, but this here looked as though it could be actually living – not just surviving.

  But...

  Parker coughed, clearing his throat. Those around the fire looked at him expectantly.

  ‘I just wanted to say,’ began Parker, a little unsurely – ‘I just wanted to say how grateful I am to you all for all your kindnesses, and help. Simple fact is, if I and the girl hadn’t been brought here, we’d both have died.’

  ‘Welcome, John,’ murmured several voices almost in unison. Parker caught the stare of the woman with the kind, mysterious eyes, and she flashed a small smile across at him in the flickering darkness.

  ‘Somehow,’ continued Parker, now almost forcing the words out – they didn’t feel like the ones he wanted to say – ‘when the girl’s better, we’ll carry on to where we were headed. That is, the other side of the desert.’

  Parker thought he sensed a certain disappointment in the group. As though they’d considered that he’d stay.

  But then Lane said –

  ‘John, we can get you there using horses. Get your supplies and even that bicycle of yours to the other side, too. We’ve got a cart, after all. Use it now and then to get supplies here.’

  ‘Really?’ said Parker. ‘That would be –’

  His voice suddenly cut off as he thought of something.

  ‘John?’ said Lane.

  ‘Look, I’ve gotta keep moving, even if I don’t want to all that much. There’s... something I gotta check, two hundred odd miles still from here. But the girl... this place... I know she’ll be happy here...’

  Parker shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts and thus speak coherently.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is – can the girl stay here, with you?’

  Lane stood up, walked over and patted Parker on the shoulder.

  ‘We’ll see, John. Let’s see what she thinks when she wakes up, eh?’

  Parker nodded, uncertainly. He felt suddenly a little ashamed, as though he’d somehow been suggesting that he might abandon the girl.

  When Abby did awake the following day, almost fully restored to health, she seemed quickly to take to this type of life. After some initial shyness, she was soon playing with the other children. And then, in the afternoon, there were lessons in one of the larger huts – the children used pencils and paper to learn letters, words...

  Mathematics followed, the lessons taken by the woman with the kind eyes who Parker now knew was called Joan. A couple of times, it seemed as though Joan was looking just a touch too long in Parker’s direction. Not that Parker minded in the slightest, and, as she didn’t seem to be anyone’s ‘woman’, so to speak, he might have...

  But he had to go. To leave here. Pointless delaying this departure for a moment longer than he needed to. Because with every passing moment, he felt his resolve weakening. This place... the river so beautiful... that attractive-looking woman appearing perhaps slightly taken with him... to say nothing of Abby so quickly adapting to this way of life, other children for her to play with and the chance to learn...

  But it was no good –

  That cold, remorseless message kept hammering out somewhere in the depths of his brain–

  I have to go back.

  I have to know.

  ‘You want to stay here?’ Parker asked Abby quietly the following evening, as the both of them settled down to sleep in the small hut they’d been allocated.

  ‘Yes,’ returned the girl.

  ‘Because... I have to go soon. I told you before that I have to get back... somewhere. That somewhere is still a few hundred miles away, cross the other side of this desert and more. But the people here are going to help me cross the rest of this desert. They already said that. And I checked that you can stay here – ’

  With a shock, Parker realized that the girl was quietly crying.

  ‘Abby...?’ he said in a whisper.

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t leave me.’

  ‘Hey, hey,’ said Parker, moving over to hold her in his arms. ‘I thought you liked it here?’

  ‘I do, but – I want to stay with you. If you need to go somewhere, I want to go with you. That’s all.’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine. Then we’ll carry on – you and me.’

  ‘You and me,’ repeated Abby, Parker holding her until she fell asleep.

  What am I even doing going? was the last thing Parker thought, before he fell asleep himself.

  The ‘cart’ that had rubber wheels was kept in the stables.

  ‘We built it, for when we have to go and get supplies from the stores outside the desert – clothing and such,’ explained Lane, as Webb helped him attach the cart to two horses. ‘Big enough to put your bicycle in, I reckon, along with whatever else we left by the side of the highway.’

  It was still dark, although there was the faintest gleam towards the east.

  ‘We’ll be taking a number of tracks to the other side of the desert,’ said Webb. ‘It’ll take a good twelve hours or so, I reckon. There’s a few stores just after we get out – reckon you’ll find something to fix that wheel once we get there.’

  Parker nodded, as Lane helped Abby climb up to the front of the cart. She was still sleepy – had woken unwillingly – and looked as though she’d go straight back out once the cart got moving.

  The adults had all come out of their huts to see off
Parker and the girl. He exchanged a glance with Joan, who gave him that small smile again. Again, Parker wondered just what the hell he was doing leaving here, while knowing full well that he was basically a slave to that cold, remorseless instruction that kept repeating in his brain –

  I have to go back.

  I have to know.

  The last person Parker saw looking back was Joan. Then he faced forward, and steeled himself to whatever was coming once he got out of this desert, and it was again just him and the girl. Wished Abby had wanted to stay with the others by the river, then realized that she had – did – but more than this wanted to remain with Parker, wherever he took her.

  ...The cart rumbled on, Lane sat next to him holding the reins. They were taking one of the less steep tracks towards the highway and the place where the bicycle with the flat tyre had been left.

  ...Parker had to concentrate on the future, to life back outside of this simple community he’d left by that gently flowing river...

  What the hell am I doing?

  Lane had been sitting in silence, holding the reins, his narrow, steely eyes concentrating on the horses and the way ahead. But now he coughed, and said –

  ‘You ever come back this way again, John, there’s something you can do to ‘attract our attention’, in a manner of speaking, real quick.’

  Saying this, Lane produced a small, square piece of mirror and passed it to Parker.

  ‘Keep this,’ he said, ‘and if you ever come back, just hold it up to the sun and let it flash off the glass. There’s always one or two of us on patrol, and we’ll see it, sure enough, even if its miles away.’

  ‘Thank you, Lane,’ said Parker, putting the piece of mirror in the pocket of the light sports jacket that was tied around his waist along with his gun.

  No questions asked about just why he had to keep travelling – just the open offer that he could always come back. He and the girl.

  It was dark again by the time they reached the other side of the desert. The bicycle in the back of the cart, along with their supplies. They left the desert, leaving behind the dust, sand, cactuses, small prickly bushes and that seemingly endlessly stretching highway. Another few miles and Parker saw that they were in an area with a number of stores.

  ‘They all got looted way back when, of course,’ noted Lane in that laconic voice of his. ‘But I reckon puncture repair kits weren’t exactly top of the looters’ list of desired items.’

  Parker’s face cracked in a genuine smile, as he climbed stiffly down from the front of the cart. He’d grown to like Lane an awful lot, just in the short time he’d known him.

  Abby had fallen asleep again, and Parker carried her inside one store that sold beds. He placed her on a mattress, as Lane rubbed down the horses and gave them some food and drink.

  ‘I’ll stay here a few hours, then start heading back,’ he said.

  ‘Lane, thank you,’ returned Parker.

  Before he left, Lane helped Parker find a puncture repair kit (in one of the large stores there was actually a department which had sold bicycles, which meant that there was the desired item), and using a couple of hand-tools they together fixed the wheel. They also found a ‘mileometer’, meaning that Parker could now keep track of his distance travelled.

  ‘Best of luck to you, John,’ said Lane, as he prepared to get up on top of the cart.

  ‘And you, Lane,’ said Parker. ‘Thanks for everything. Really.’

  The two men shook hands, hard, and then Lane set off. Parker turned back to the mended bicycle, Abby already sat in the child’s seat.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she said.

  ‘I guess so,’ replied Parker, doing his best to restrain a sigh. Ahead were the abandoned cars, cracked road surfaces, looted and sometimes burnt-out buildings. And always the threat of danger.

  And sometimes real danger.

  Parker managed to pick up a good rhythm cycling. Far easier to dodge any obstacles on these roads than it had been back in the desert. Much cooler as well. In fact there was the first suspicion of autumn in the air. The leaves of the trees just starting to blush red. The mileometer showed Parker that he was averaging twenty-odd miles every day, and already he was recognizing the names of some of the towns and cities on those signs he passed.

  Steadily heading towards that town he’d left so many months before. And Carrie.

  ...At night, Abby and he stayed in apartments located several floors up. Parker hiding the bicycle before they got settled in for the evening. Eating the canned goods, Parker ensuring that Abby always cleaned her teeth well afterwards. The girl often falling asleep with her head in his lap – Parker had found a book of children’s stories, which she liked him to read to her as she drifted off, by torch- or candlelight.

  And sometimes Parker looked at the girl as she slept and reflected that he’d never loved another person more. Not even Carrie. Abby had become like his own daughter now, and without a second’s hesitation he’d kill and destroy anyone and anything that ever threatened her.

  ...It was growing dark and almost chilly one evening, and Parker was starting to look for somewhere they could stay for the night, when there came noises that instantly chilled his blood.

  Shouting, drunken laughter, yelling.

  ‘Hogs,’ said Parker, his teeth gritting.

  ‘John?’ said Abby, startled out of sleep.

  Some distance ahead, Parker saw the glow of a large bonfire. And something started to bellow hoarsely now. He knew the sound. It was a thing, and Parker had no doubt that it was being tortured by the hogs.

  ‘John?’ said Abby again, fear now sounding.

  Parker stopped the bike. His gun was fully-loaded and felt heavy and reassuring in his jacket pocket.

  ‘You’re to stay here, Abby,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back very soon.’

  The girl looked for a few moments in his eyes, then nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Please be careful.’

  ‘I will. Good girl.’

  Parker set off towards the bonfire. As he neared it he crouched down and moved from cover to cover – buildings and cars. The figures moved around the bonfire, lifting bottles of spirits to their lips. Six of them, saw Parker. That was fortunate.

  Parker saw now that the thing had been staked out on the ground, close to the fire, arms and legs outstretched in an ‘X’ shape. One hog picked a burning stick from out of the fire and put it on the thing’s face. Drunken laughter as the thing bellowed again. And it took a lot to make a thing feel pain.

  ‘So she’s worth it, then?’ one hog said then.

  Another replied –

  ‘I owe that bitch for this, still.’

  He pointed at his face, and Parker was just able to see that he was wearing an eye-patch.

  ‘She fucked you up good, man!’ cackled another hog.

  The hog wearing the patch quickly stalked over and punched the man who’d just spoken in the face.

  ‘Not as bad as I’ll fuck you up, you start getting cute,’ said ‘Patch’, as Parker realized that this man must be the leader of this small group of hogs. (As concealed as he was, Parker repeatedly looked around him, to ensure that no one was creeping up on him in the darkness that had now fallen, away from the fire.)

  ‘Another day’s journey,’ said Patch, indicating the two cars parked up nearby. ‘And we’ll be there. Make sure we take her by surprise. She’s got guns, and she knows how to fight. I thought me and the others had her good last time – but only I managed to get away in the end, still missing my eye.’

  ‘She cute?’

  ‘Blond, blue eyes,’ returned Patch. ‘You guys can do what you want to her – but I’m having her ass. That’s mine, right ‘fore anything else.’

  ‘Definitely on her own?’ the hog who’d been struck now inquired, still wiping his bleeding nose.

  Patch almost abstractly kicked the thing in the head, as he replied –

  ‘Yeah. Small house right next to what was a school.’

&
nbsp; Parker’s dark, stormy suspicions now solidified into a nightmarish certainty.

  Incredible as it was, they had to be talking about Carrie...

  She was alive!

  And in dire danger.

  Six hogs; six bullets in Parker’s gun. He also had more bullets lying loose in another pocket of his jacket. But he’d have to ensure he got every hog first shot, real quick...

  Except for Patch. He wanted a few words with that fucker.

  Parker pulled out his gun, and stared for several seconds at the six hogs stood reasonably close together. Then his gun moved and flashed flame and five of the hogs fell down dead within the space of two seconds. The sixth – Patch – began shrieking with pain, a bullet buried in his thigh.

  Parker now revealed himself, reloading his gun as he walked towards the bonfire and the writhing hog.

  ‘Shit... Who the fuck are you, man?’ demanded Patch, holding his blood-stained leg. There were some shotguns lying nearby, but still too far for Patch to hope to crawl too.

  Out of mercy, Parker shot the thing that had been staked out in the head, before addressing Patch –

  ‘That woman you were talking about. What happened – the thing that cost you your eye?’

  ‘What the fuck... What are you talking about?’ hissed the hog, staring up at Parker.

  Who almost casually raised his gun and shot the hog in the kneecap of the same leg he’d already wounded. The hog screamed with pain, a stream of profanities escaping his lips.

  ‘Next it’ll be the other leg, then I’ll carrying on working upwards,’ declared Parker.

  ‘Fuck,’ said the hog, hands now transferred to his ruined kneecap. ‘Fuck! Just some chick... Me and some others got a hold of her, thought we had her good... Were about to get busy when somehow she gets this blade and fucks us all up.’

  Parker felt his icy thoughts fog with confusion. Could this be Carrie – who’d not even been able to kill a thing...?

  ‘Who the fuck are you, anyway, man?’ demanded the hog, as Parker walked over and knelt beside him.

  ‘I’m that woman’s husband, motherfucker,’ said Parker, pointing the barrel of the gun beneath Patch’s throat and pulling the trigger.