by D. J. Molles
The man turned and began walking, his rifle slung diagonally across his back from shoulder to hip, the barrel pointing down. It swung slightly as he made his way, not into the Camp Ryder building, but around the side of it, towards the rain catches. Lee followed a few paces behind and became suddenly and acutely aware that he was unarmed.
His whole body tensed when he turned the corner.
Facing him were almost twenty armed men.
CHAPTER 9: VOLUNTEERS
Unconsciously, Lee's feet spread, and the tension pulled the muscles in his legs taut. He was only about ten feet from the corner of the building, and he estimated he might be able to leap back into cover before they began firing. They were only about twenty feet from him, so he would have to move quickly, as each one of their shots was unlikely to miss at this range.
Then he realized that none of them were pointing their rifles at Lee, and in fact only a few of them were even holding their rifles. The others had them slung on their backs. And they were not standing in any sort of firing line, but rather jumbled together in a mixed up circle.
"What is this?" Lee growled, not quite sure what he was looking at.
The man that had led him around the corner turned to face the captain. He clasped his hands in front of him. "We've all talked it over and slept on it. And we want to help."
Lee tried not to let it show when the breath came out of him in a long blast. His heart knocked on the inside of his chest hard enough to make his vision jump with each pulse. He folded his arms across his chest and said, "I see."
One of the men stepped forward from the group. He was younger than the others, perhaps in his early twenties. His head was a shaggy mop of brown curls. His face was covered in patchy scruff. "We're with you, Captain."
The twenty before him were not all men, but a few women as well. Some of them stood beside their husbands, determined to accompany them into the fight, while others stood alone, having made the decision on their own. But the thing that struck Lee the most was that there were so many of them. This was nearly a fourth of the camp. The very same people that ran scavenging operations into abandoned apartment complexes and neighborhoods, and bartered over cans of tuna and rejoiced when they found something as simple as a bottle of aspirin, or a toothbrush. These were people who worked hard for the group, who gave what they could for the group. These were people that had virtually nothing to their name but ramshackle huts and the clothes on their backs. And yet, here they stood, ready to give even more so that the group might survive.
He took two steps toward the group and stopped, his expression forthright and cautious. "You understand what I'm asking you to do?"
There was a chorus of affirmative sounds.
Lee nodded. "You understand that I'll be asking half of you to go towards the east coast, which we have virtually no intelligence about? And the other half will be going northwest, past one of the biggest urban areas in the state? You understand that even with all of your help, we're going to be incredibly outnumbered, our supplies are going to be stretched thin, you'll be far from your loved ones and possibly never see them again?"
"Sir," the thirty-something man that had retrieved Lee took a step forward. "Believe me, we've talked about all of this. Not only with our families, for those of us that have them, but also amongst ourselves. We understand the risks involved. But we believe this is the best chance we have at survival, even if it is a slim one. We want to help fight for it."
One of the women stepped forward, not much more than a girl. "We're not running into the mountains, Captain. We've busted our asses to build what we have here, and we're not giving that up. We're tired of being on the run all the time."
The shaggy-headed guy nodded fiercely at her. "We've gotta fight for it, we understand."
Their hearts were strong now, but when the bullets fly and you're up to your elbows in the blood of your friends, it has the tendency to weaken resolve and make high ideals seem very small. The only solace that Lee took from them was the fact that they were here, living and breathing before him. They had survived the collapse, which was a trial by fire. And if you were able to survive that, if you were still functioning on the other side of something so horrible, then there must be some steel inside you after all.
These were not some random civilians that toted assault rifles around with them for no reason. They were the survivors. The only reason they were alive right now was because they were smarter and stronger, or at least luckier, than every other civilian that had died or succumbed to the pandemic and the incredible violence that followed.
"Okay." Lee's smile was thin. "If you all understand what you're getting into, and wish to volunteer anyway, then I'm honored to have you."
There was a ripple of excited murmurs that went through the group.
Lee stepped forward to the thirty-something man and extended his hand. "I recognize you from camp, but I don't think we've ever met."
The man took his hand and shook it vigorously. "Nate Malone."
"Good to meet you, Nate." Lee looked over Nate's shoulder at the others. "For now, I'm going to leave you unofficially in charge of these folks."
Nate nodded. “What do you want us to do?"
“Nothing for now,” Lee clapped him on the shoulder. “For now, rest up. I'll have you guys training tomorrow, but today we're on hold. So enjoy it. You won't see it again for a while.”
“What about Sanford?” Nate worried. “Don't you guys need us for Sanford?”
Lee shook his head. "No, we need you guys to train as a team so we can rely on you. I'm sure you're all good shots, and I'm sure you're all outstanding people, but working as a team takes practice, and we only have about a week. I need you and your group spending all that time getting ready."
Nate considered this for a few moments, then finally nodded.
To the entire group, Lee raised his voice. "Thank you, folks. This is gonna be a tough road, but I couldn't have asked for better volunteers."
Lee left them and immediately went to find Harper. He rounded the building and could see the little fire pit where he and Angela had sat and talked and she was no longer there. He headed for the door, and once inside found LaRouche and Jim just walking out from eating breakfast. He stopped them in passing.
"Either of you guys seen Harper?"
LaRouche pointed up to the foreman's office. "Yeah, he's up there with Bus and the dude from last night."
"Eddie?"
"Yeah, the mechanic."
"Thanks." Lee turned for the stairs.
“Hey, we're gonna see if we can't scrounge up a little bit of extra meat and some booze." He winked, secretively. "Make a little fire out back and have us a regular barbecue later tonight."
Lee made a face. "Good luck with that. You might have to barter the clothes you're wearing”
"The ladies might like that."
The two men departed with a wave, and Lee continued up the stairs. In the office, he found Bus sitting behind the desk, Harper leaning on the edge of it, regarding the map, and Eddie Ramirez standing in the middle of the room, sharing in Harper's fascination of the map.
Bus noticed Lee first and raised a hand in greeting. "Just the man we wanted to see. We’ve got a problem."
Lee sighed. “What’s new, right?”
"You're going to the coast, aren't you?" Eddie interjected.
Lee hesitated, then nodded.
"Then I could leave my family here, where they're safe, and I'll go with you to the coast. On the way, I'll keep your engines in top shape. And when we get there, I'll figure out if I want to return there with my family, or stay with your group."
Lee considered it and looked to Harper and Bus to get their take on the arrangement. They both gave him a nod of approval. "Seems fair," he concluded.
"Excellent." Eddie clapped his hands. "You want me to take a look at your trucks now?"
"Well..." Lee didn't really want Eddie fiddling with the trucks unsupervised. The guy seemed straight up,
but Lee still wasn't comfortable with trusting him implicitly just yet. "Let me get up with Sergeant LaRouche and I'll have him help you out."
Eddie seemed to get the picture. "That's no problem. I'll be with my family, so you know where to find me when you need me, okay?"
"Thank you very much, Eddie."
The mechanic left the room.
Harper watched him go with one raised eyebrow. "Interesting guy."
Lee smiled. "Yeah. We'll see how useful he is."
Bus rose from his seat. "We were just talking about the plan."
"Yes," Lee put his hands in his pockets. "That's what I was trying to find Harper for."
Harper raised his chin. "You found me."
"You know Nate Malone?"
"Yeah. Decent guy."
"Good. Because I need you to train him and about twenty others that just volunteered to help."
"Oh." Harper looked confused. "That doesn't leave much time, between Sanford and heading east…"
"You're not going to Sanford."
Harper's lips tightened. "Um...what do you mean?"
"I need you training the volunteers while we're clearing Sanford."
"Why not LaRouche?" Harper gestured off to the side as though the sergeant were sitting in the room. "He's military, and he's got just as much or more experience than me. He's way more qualified to train the volunteers than I am. Why would you want me to do it?"
Lee leaned in. "Come on, Harper. I trust you both, but…don’t take this the wrong way, but I need LaRouche with me in Sanford. You’re the next in line as far as trust and experience goes."
"Fuck." Harper hung his head.
"I need you to do this for me."
"But..."
"You've soaked up what I've taught you and you're one of the best people I have. Plus, you're a natural leader. People listen to you. LaRouche is just as good, tactically, but he's just a little bit loose for me to trust him with training the volunteers. Father Jim is good, but not as good as you. I need Julia as our medic. Jeriah and his team are just plain green."
Harper's eyes looked up at the ceiling. "Alright. Fine."
"You'll do good."
"I'd do better in Sanford."
"Agreed. But I gotta have someone to train them, and you're the best choice."
"Well..." Harper trailed off, not having anything else to say.
Lee looked to Bus. "Is there something you guys wanted to talk to me about?"
"Yes," Bus took a pen that was lying on the desk and tapped it on the wooden top. "It's about fuel."
"Right. The tanker."
"Were you planning on taking it with you?"
Lee shrugged, non-committally. "I gotta keep the Humvees running."
"Okay," Harper looked back at the map. "So are you taking both the Humvees in one direction?"
"I'm gonna have one Humvee go east, and one north. Obviously, there are going to be other vehicles in each group, especially the one heading east, because that group is going to need to carry a shit-load of ordnance. I'm going to need to keep all the vehicles in both groups fueled."
"We also need to keep the hospital running."
Lee nodded. "I agree. Which is why I hadn't really cemented this part of the plan. Because what we have to do depends on what we find at Sanford. There was a military installation there, evacuating people. We have no idea how much of the equipment they left. If we're lucky, we might come across some fuel trucks. We'll just have to see what we come up with."
Bus put the pen to his lips, thoughtfully. "Keith Jenkins did that welding for the dozer attachment, didn’t he? If we can scrounge up some more welding supplies for him, and plug him into the power at the hospital, he might be able to weld us some fuel tanks."
Lee had to admit, that was a good idea. "Definitely. But how big those tanks need to be depends on how many vehicles will be in each group. Which depends on how many people and how much crap we have to carry with us."
"So essentially planning is on hold until you guys clear Sanford."
"Correct." Lee rubbed his palms together. "Now, Harper, why don't you go talk to Nate Malone and plan for what you're putting them through this week?"
Harper looked at him blankly. "What do you want me to teach them?"
"Just drill the basics," Lee said. "Marksmanship and squad tactics."
"Right." Harper sounded despondent. "Just the basics."
***
After Harper left, Lee and Bus turned their attention to matters inside the camp.
"Have you heard from Jerry at all today?" Lee asked.
"No." Bus splayed his hands out across the desktop. "He's made himself a bit scarce after yesterday's performance."
"I'm worried about Jerry and Professor White," Lee stated.
"In what way?"
"They make me nervous. Professor White is just angry enough to do something stupid. And Jerry seems like he and his supporters are on the verge of leaving." Lee chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment. "You think they might do that?"
"Leave the group?" Bus's eyebrows quirked up. "I don't know. That's a big risk for them to take, wandering out there by themselves. We've built something safe here, or at least safer than it is in the rest of the world. I don't know if people will want to leave it."
"What if they don't leave it?" Lee found a small tear at the corner of the map and worried at it with his finger.
Bus rubbed his eyes. "I don't know, Lee."
"It's something we need to think about."
"What do you want me to do? Have sentries follow them around all day?" Bus snorted. "There has to be some level of trust."
"I agree." Lee stepped towards the desk. "But I want you to keep your eyes open."
"For what?"
"You have two groups of people that don't really want anything to do with how we've been running things, but I'm also sure they don't want to leave all this behind. We're no different than every other third-world country out there now. When there are dissenters, they don't picket congress. That's the old world. If you have dissenters now, they come after you." Lee lowered his voice. "I just want you to watch your back."
Bus gave him a pointed stare. "I could say the same to you."
Lee nodded. "I already do."
Their conversation continued and eventually fell to trivialities. Jeriah Wilson and his team arrived around noon and Lee left to debrief them. They reported that everything was quiet in Lillington when they left, and that the Fuquay-Varina and Dunn survivors were still settling in, but should be mounting scavenging operations inside Lillington in the next few days. They’d successfully set up a radio base station, and Outpost Lillington was currently on line.
Lee made an exhaustive list of everything he would need for their operations in Sanford and began to gather these items. Most of them were readily available from the stores that he had taken from Bunker #4. Such things as ammunition and ordnance were locked away in one of the ubiquitous shipping containers around the camp.
Some of the other items like food stores and medical supplies he had to scrounge from others like Marie and Jenny, who were in charge of the food and medicine, respectively. Luckily, most of the food and medicine they had, originally came from Lee, so they had no issue with giving it back to him. Several times throughout the day, Julia or LaRouche or Jim would pass by and ask if he needed help, but he would only smile and wave them off.
In truth, he just needed something to keep him busy.
And it was pleasant, in a way, to be busy with something besides keeping himself or others alive. The monotonous physical labor of hauling the heavy packages of supplies back and forth set his mind at ease and allowed him to work off some of his nervous energy. Because he had all day, he worked slowly and meticulously, and checked his list often. Sometimes he would sit on the tailgate of the Humvee for a long period of time and simply enjoy the quiet and the relative solitude of being left alone.
He loaded the supplies they would need into the back of the Humvees and
checked the fuel level in both. They were each at about the halfway mark. Plenty to get them in and out of Sanford, but they would need to refuel immediately after.
As dusk threw giant splashes of amber across the sky, he finished loading the last of the supplies. A steady stream of people were now making their way towards the Camp Ryder building for dinner. Lee wanted to avoid the crowd and he quickly cut across Main Street between two groups of survivors, all talking loudly amongst themselves and not noticing Lee pass by.
He found his group nestled in an open area between several shanties, close to the fence. A fire pit had been dug into the ground and ringed with cinder blocks and loose stone, identical to the dozens of other fire pits that had popped up around Camp Ryder when the weather began to chill. In the center of the fire pit, a large stack of wood was burning hotter and brighter than was usual.
Around the fire were gathered most of Lee's team members, including Jeriah Wilson and his group. They sat atop crates and overturned buckets, and others stood around holding tin cans for drinking cups. LaRouche was laughing loudly, his mouth stained by the chaw that bulged on the inside of his mouth, and he held a bottle of whiskey in one hand. The bottle was already nearly half gone.
When he saw Lee, he raised it up, "Captain! We didn't think you were gonna make it."
Lee smiled and waved a small greeting. "What happened to the barbecue? Thought you were gonna have a whole hog spitted over that fire."
LaRouche threw a disdainful glance at Julia, who was seated a few places down from him. "Well, someone was supposed to talk to their sister..."
"I never agreed to that," she stated, blandly.
"But..." LaRouche held up the bottle of whiskey. "We did receive a charitable donation from one James Tinsley, scavenger extraordinaire. Along with his best wishes, of course."
LaRouche put the bottle to his lips and turned it up.
Julia crossed the distance in a flash and deftly snatched the bottle from him. She stared at the mouth of the bottle in horror. "You're gonna get tobacco juice in it, you nasty bastard!"
