“…That sounds fair, but, we don’t know how many there is,” the second voice said.
“Don’t need to. We only need to know the split. First off, we get the first three picks… Then… Let’s say there’s twelve women, we get eight you get four,” the first voice said.
“Sure… Sure… When pigs fly. I was born in the day time, but it wasn’t yesterday, you know what I mean? … No… Listen… You get the first two picks. If it’s twelve we go fifty, fifty, like that, ‘cause you know you’re gonna take the best looking bitches anyway. You know it, so do I. Probably there’ll be six ugly or old ones and we’ll get stuck. You wouldn’t want them anyway. This way it’s fairer. And it ain’t like the factory’s an issue. You said you don’t want it,” the second voice said.
The radio hissed static.
“When,” the first voice asked?
The other voice laughed. “That’s good… What say we get together tomorrow... Early… Talk out what to do and how to do it?” the second voice said.
“Okay… Peace out,” the first voice said.
“Peace out,” The second voice repeated.
James and Conner looked at each other.
“That’s that,” Conner said.
“Yeah,” James said.
Conner stood, “I’m going to make the walk again, let everyone know.”
“Everything they said? About… About the women too?” James asked.
“… Yeah,” Conner decided. “Everything. About the women too. Everyone’s in it. They should all know the truth,” Conner finished as he began to walk to the front entrance.
“Okay,” James said softly.
Conner walked off into the darkness.
April 8th
New Jersey: Adam and Cammy
They had settled into the factory and within a few days others had joined them. At first Adam had done his best to dissuade them, silence and moodiness seemed to be his only persona for most of that time, but Madison and Cammy welcomed newcomers and got them set up with sleeping areas inside the factory. They also organize daily outings for supplies, and that enabled Adam to get a better idea of the area they were in.
They had left in the early morning the day before, Adam and Cammy on foot, Madison and Rob, one of the newcomers, in a truck to cruise the fields looking for deer or cows which seemed to be everywhere you looked, at least until you wanted one Madison had joked. Gina stayed to keep things going at the factory which was close to fifty people now. Gina had been one of the first to come along. Tall, young, a shock of red hair that hung well below her waist, but was usually tied back into a ponytail and wrapped around her forehead. “Happy hunting,” Gina had called as they left.
Adam remembered that aloud as they walked, startling a small herd of goats that had been browsing the inside of a gas station as they passed. They let them go without a shot. Shots sometimes bought unwelcome attention. There were gangs in Jersey too, maybe not as much of a presence, but they were here.
For some reason they didn't understand, the attitude of the gangs was changing. Less fearful of the daylight. Adam was convinced they knew they were in the factory, staying away only because they didn't like the numbers, but how long would that last, he asked himself. It was past the time to be moving. All of this time and he had moved no further than Jersey. He should be south somewhere already. Settling in. Getting ready for winter or whatever came next.
There was a police precinct seven blocks over where they hoped there would be a stash of weapons and ammunition. No way to know until they got there, but they had passed it a few times and it appeared closed up. Like the cops had seen the end coming and locked it all up before they had left. Adam hoped so. They had plenty of ammunition, but more was a nobrainer.
The Police station took half the day to break into. The cops had never left, they had simply died in a prison of their own making. It seemed as though they had turned against each other in the end, the bodies were scattered everywhere, moldering in the darkness. It was late afternoon before they had what they had come for, which turned out to be no more than a few hundred rounds of ammunition Adam wasn't even sure they could use.
They had gone floor to floor, window to window, and it was the same story at every stop. Brass casings piled in mounds. They had fought until they could no longer fight and then they had starved to death or succumbed to their wounds. Something. It was hard to tell. The basement level showed the end results of some sort of huge gun fight. There were blocks of cells down here, Adam saw. All standing open and shell casings everywhere. Maybe that was their answer. At least the only answer they were likely to get.
The trip back to the factory where they had been staying was tough. The light was seeping from the sky and Adam had opted for a small pawn shop they had passed a few times before to spend the night. The shutters were intact. They had shot the lock off the outside, but there were hooks on the inside to lock it from there. He and Cammy fit snugly inside. They pulled down the shutters, and ran a padlock Adam carried in his pocket for just that purpose through the latches.
The panels where heavy stainless steel. It would take them some work to get through them. They had sat out the long night, listening to the gangs as they roamed the streets, waiting for sunrise, and it had taken Adam once again back to the night a few weeks before when Madison had killed John and they had waited silently for dawn to arrive. They sat silently now, waiting for dawn. Talk was impossible. Somewhere in the night Adam pulled Cammy close to him, and they both drifted off into sleep despite the gunshots and the screams from outside.
Rochester NY: Mike
Midnight
It had almost gone without a hitch. It had taken him a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, but once they had he had set off through the house. He thought back on it now as he bent his weight to the shovel, digging more out of the bottom of the shallow grave...
As he had searched his ears began to tell him things too, they were upstairs, he could hear minute creaks as body weight shifted on the floors above him. He could hear weeping from somewhere above him too. The sound made a sob catch in his own throat before he choked it back and headed for the stairs.
Ronnie had been out in the open, tied to a post for the railing. Mike had caught him in the process of trying to fight his way free. His mouth was gagged, but he immediately stopped his struggles when Mike came into view at the top of the stairs. Mike bent forward carefully, the step creaking loudly, and cut the bonds on his wrists. A second later he was passing Ronnie a pistol as he worked to free his jaw up. Mike passed him a canteen, and Ronnie sipped carefully, his lips blistered and cut, before he handed it back. His voice was scratchy, rusted.
“Kill the ones out there?” Ronnie asked in his whisper croak. His eyes were hard.
Mike shook his head. “They're getting high... Won't be a problem... Where are the girls?”
Ronnie nodded and headed down the hallway with Mike following. He stopped in front of the door. “One of them went in a little while ago... Probably... Probably...” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Mike whispered, “Don't lose it... We'll go on three, fast, but don't let the door make a lot of noise. Try to stab him, not shoot... Don't want to alert those others.” He held Ronnie's eyes until he nodded.
Mike turned the knob slowly and counted down quickly. His shoulder hit the door but it didn't give completely, just flexed, cracked loudly, and then sprang back at them. He cursed under his breath. “Take it down, take it fucking down,” he whisper croaked.”
The door splintered and finally opened. The guard inside was waiting, a gun in one hand, the form of a nude female beside him, a vague shape tied to a radiator across the room. A hand rose and pulled the gun down. The gun went off as they were tackling the man, and then everything went bad fast.
Mike drew his knife across his throat to cut off a scream that had begun, but even he knew it was too late. Ronnie scrambled up and made his way to the radiator and began untying the woman there. Mike
bent, pushed the man aside and saw Patty. She moved quickly and he pulled her to her feet. They were out the door seconds later, all armed with the pistols Mike had bought, all ready, scrambling down the stairs two at a time. The front door burst in as they hit the bottom of the stairs and the two men that burst through never stood a chance. They ran over the top of them as they were still falling and spilled out into the night.
The whole area was on alert. The guards were out, dogs running everywhere, Mike saw. The dogs were no problem. It wasn't like the movies, the dogs didn't know who they were looking for. They managed to make it three blocks north, nearly out, before Mike realized that Patty had been hit. She stumbled, he pulled her to her feet, but she stumbled again and when he looked back he saw the blood that covered her entire side and soaked her leg. There was no time, he bent and took her over his shoulder, hearing her cry out in pain as he did, but there had been no other option. They had made the blockade a few moments later and had, had to stop while they tried to figure a way around.
There were too many of them. Two dozen standing around watching, but they were not trained to do it. Most of them had never hunted, didn't know how to watch, what to look for. Mike had laid patty on the ground and Candace had pulled her into her arms and held her, both crying silently. Behind him, several blocks back at the house where they had been held the grenades he had rigged to a timer finally went off. The men scattered, ran, started to regroup and then began to run through the streets back to where they had been. Mike and Ronnie picked up Patty together and ran through the darkness, sticking to the deepest shadows for the next half mile until they were well beyond the city and the gangs that were out looking for them.
Mike and Ronnie collapsed onto the ground while Candace held Patty as she died. Dawn had not been far away so they had taken refuge in a nearby house and waited the day away. No one had come near. They had rested up during that time and when it was dark once more they had left the shelter and brought Patty with them...
Mike bent to the shovel once again. They had all taken turns, it was nearly done. He took a deep breath, stepped away from the hole and the others nodded. A second later they were lowering Patty into the hole.
She was dressed in clothes the Candace had taken from the house just a short time before. A long dress, her face pasty white and smeared with dried blood. But peaceful nonetheless. A half hour later they were back in the house ransacking it, looking for anything that might help them. They had a half mile to travel, a short distance, Mike had thought when he had hidden the truck he had driven here in, but a long walk now that he knew they might be anywhere looking for them. They left a short time later and made their trip to the falling down garage next to a flattened diner where Mike had hidden the truck.
The house had given them virtually nothing. No water. No food, a couple of coats and that was it. The truck was a welcome sight with its cache of food and water, and they had spent the next hour just sitting quietly, eating, replenishing their fluids, not talking.
“You were dead,” Candace said at last. “The guy went over, kicked you, was going to shoot you in the head, but he decided not to because you were dead.” Her eyes were bright, tears perched on the lids ready to fall. They fell as Ronnie spoke.
“I couldn't do anything, Mike. Nothing.”
Mike caught his own emotions. They had been right on his sleeve for days, it seemed. He took a minute and composed himself.
“Alive. I was alive. I came to and thought all of you had died. I was in bad shape, bleeding, leg messed up... I thought you were dead.” He stopped, gained his composure once more and then started again. “ Later, back in Watertown, I couldn't remember if I looked well enough., If I made sure you were dead, but I decided I didn't. I didn't and it ate at me.” His throat tightened up and he had to stop. “So I came back,” He said at last.
Candace came to him and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said. “I am so glad you did.”
Ronnie nodded and they all fell silent once more. Candace wiped at her eyes and then stood and walked away. ”Sorry... They were about to trade us... Pat...” She choked. “Patty and me.” The tears nearly overtook her once more but she fought them back.
“Okay... So we go back to Watertown again... I have my house set up. We go back and decide what's next.” He looked down at his leg. Blood had seeped through the bandages. “Leg's shot,” he said by way of explanation. The silence held for a second.
“I should look at that,” Candace said.
“Later,” Mike agreed. “Ready, Ronnie?”
“Yeah. Yeah I am.”
“Okay, let's get going. I want to be as far away from this fucking place as I can be by daylight tomorrow.” A few minutes later they were running a fast as they dared in the moonlight, heading back toward Watertown.
EARTH'S SURVIVOR'S: THE NATION
Earth's Survivors: The Nation is © Copyright 2015 Wendell Sweet, all rights reserved.
Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2012, 2014, 2015 by Wendell Sweet, All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Book Three Table Of Contents
FOREWORD
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FOREWORD
This part of the story really concentrates on the formation of The Nation and the people who will build it and carry it forward, but it also brings along the side story of The Fold and the people who will build that haven. It gives a more complete picture of Adam and Cammy, and picks up the Tale of Billy and Beth, Mike and Candace as they work to sort out their lives.
I enjoyed writing this book as much as I have the other two. There are, at this time three other books written and waiting for me. I write the story when it is there, and move onto other stories when it is not. It remains the single favorite thing that I write, and I look forward to learning about the characters even as I write them. I sometimes think of it as my own private ocean that I can easily lose myself in. Many times I am here writing the story when dinner is called and I am reluctant to stop. Some times I do not stop soon enough, and recall a few minutes later that I was called. That is how far I dive into it, and how little I want to come to the surface and swim back to the shore to leave it.
I am working on book four and proofing other stories that are nearly ready as I do that. Thank you for your patience and your devotion,
Dell Sweet: May 26th 2015
Earth's Survivor's: The Nation
ONE
April 9th
New Jersey: Adam and Cammy
The factory was silent as they approached it, but at first it didn't register for Adam. His mind was on Cammy and her silence. She had awakened silent and she had said little.
He had stepped into a browned smear of blood, and printed his boot track across the concrete entryway before it dawned on him that something wasn't right. His boot made an odd sucking sound as it came up from the concrete, a sound like tape pulling away from skin, something like that, he thought, and the sound caused him to look down.
The tarps that covered the entryway moved in a short gust of wind and the smell of death and corruption came to him. The coppery smell of blood. Thick, nauseating. He had back tracked a hundred feet in what seemed like seconds, coming to stop next to one of the trucks, leaning against the fender, his breath ragged and rushed.
“Cammy... Cammy.” Adam raised his
eyes to the front seat of the pickup truck, and then across the open bed. Empty. His eyes shot back to the bed. Wet, pink puddles. A familiar smell he didn't have time to place. It didn't matter though, the cab was empty, safety for Cammy while he figured out what had happened. He levered the door open and Cammy jumped willingly inside with no resistance.
“Honey... Listen... Cammy... If you can't see me, don't open the door... Don't open it... Stay in there.” She nodded, her eyes frightened.
He wore a pair of 9 mm guns with over-sized clips. He had taken them from a dead man a few weeks back and replaced the heavier .45's he carried with them. That man had been shot through the head. He had wondered about that, but not for long. There were a lot of ways to get dead in this world, he didn't need to think about that, it was a fact. Whatever this man had done had been bad enough that another living being had decided to end his life. Or maybe he had been just another guy trying to survive and some bad men had found him. He doubted that though. They would have taken the guns had that been the case. What really bothered him was the way he began to work the explanation over in his head. No thought for the body that lay in the street. The violence no longer seemed to bother him. How long before he too was just another statistic? Or and anti statistic? One of the ones who simply shot first and never bothered to ask questions? He didn't know the answer. And although that should have bothered him as well it didn't.
The ammunition had been getting harder to find for the .45, but the 9 mm stuff was everywhere it seemed. He supposed some day that would run out too, but for now it was plentiful and he did not relish running out of ammunition. He took both guns out, flicked off the safeties and walked slowly to the factory entrance.
The stench was nearly overpowering as he toed the canvas aside and stepped partly inside. The fire was out, and with the windows boarded up there was little light to see by. Even so he could see the remains of two bodies that lay close by the entrance way. He stood for what seemed like minutes looking down at the bodies, but there was no way to know who they had been.
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