The Work Of The Dead: A Post Apocalyptic Prepper Fiction Series (Aftermath Survival Book 1)

by Ron Foster

  “Man wants to chart his own course none the less, let’s see if we can keep Boudreaux away from him a few minutes until he settles in. I don’t feel like listening to the two of them go at it this early in the festivities. Hey Boudreaux, come here a minute, please!” David yelled over as the man was evidently heading towards the dock to see Hobe.

  “What you say, David? Hi there, Roland, it’s nice to see you today!” Boudreaux declared waving at David and shaking hands with Roland.

  “Not much, Hobe’s boat is looking good this year, ain’t it?” David said nonchalantly.

  “She shore is purty indeed but I am going to tell him it look like and smell like an alligator wearing lipstick, anyway. He say he was going to run fish lines tonight and be at the post tomorrow instead of coming here. I told him come jubilee over here with you instead but he say he wanted extra money to bring to Rendezvous. I tell him no one wants no fish with Roland doing cattle drive down through here so maybe he listen to some good sense.” Boudreaux said grinning.

  “Could be, I know I am glad to finally get something better than fish or wild game to make a meal out of. Roland, you should get a hell of a price for them beef cows you got at Rendezvous. Anyone got any idea how many folks are expected this year or who already said they were coming?” David asked.

  “I heard tell this is going to be the biggest one ever. I got word and a deposit from someone called Dixon that he wanted 20 head of mixed cows and breeders all his own. Anyone know who that is?” Roland said fishing out some chewing tobacco from his vest and getting no thanks disgusted looks and “no thanks” from the assembled men when he offered to share it with them as David stepped away from the group to talk to one of Philburn’s trader representatives and pointed Charlie Meeks, one of his best scroungers, towards the group sitting at the table to go ask something.

  “I meet him once down Tallassee way traveling through. Got himself an old rust bucket of a homemade armored bus he made into a traveling diner of all things. He was parked on the side of the interstate trying to trade sandwiches or goods for gas to get on up the road a bit more. I told him about you and Roland back then because he asked me where to get meat for that traveling restaurant of his. I think he parks it out next to the gates of the FEMA camps sometimes and does a little trading, if I remember right. Anyway, he is not a bad sort of fellow, he trades in small towns and does a barbecue if he can raise enough money for an event, he said. Don’t know where that broke down old man got enough money for 20 cows, though. Last time I seen him, he was begging for gas like I said.” Boudreaux said watching Hobe and friends evidently deciding to hang out on the docks and socialize rather than wander their way.

  “Well, I am not worried about him, Charlie you ought to know him. His letter of credit was drawn on Weatherman’s bank?” Roland asked.

  “I don’t know him myself but David does. Dixon sent a letter through one of the postal carriers and arranged the deposit through the Central Trader’s Bank. I try to keep my nose out of that end of the business, I don’t understand it other than as a means of exchange and let the bankers enforce their own collections and balances between them.” Charlie said before asking who else was coming if anyone knew.

  “Parker has got the roster on who we got to take trades notes back from in exchange for silver or gold. I still think there should be a less complicated way to do exchanges than hauling metal around like you’re a Spanish galleon full of treasure or having to send deposits out to the Central Trade Bank under guard for bits of paper meaning the same thing.” Boudreaux said.

  “I will go find him for you; David said to ask you all about some Riverboat named the Bismarck coming to trade at Rendezvous. The operators name is Clem Bowman and has some kind of plantation or another north of here. I am supposed to find Stewart and Farnsworth, see if they recognize that name.” Charlie asked.

  “A plantation? Who in the hell has a plantation these days? You mean like an old timey cotton plantation with slaves and such or one of those damn FEMA community or prison farms which are about the same thing?” Roland asked.

  “He didn’t say what kind of plantation it was, just a plantation. Oh yea, I overheard Philburn’s man say something about old timey sharecroppers, maybe they got them a system similar to what we got around here.” Charlie said looking towards the men for some kind of speculated confirmation.

  “Well, that sounds better, boy but I ain’t liking that plantation word all the same, it be a funny word for funny times. I was about to put a Gris-Gris on him till you said yourself better.” Boudreaux said in his roguish Cajun accent.

  gris gris [gree-gree] noun: To put a curse on someone. Frequently used in jest, not in reference to actual black magic. “Grandma got so mad when I ate that thar pie of hers, she put a gris gris on me.

  “Here comes David, maybe he can tell you more, let me go round up the folks he told me to fetch and I will be back.” Charlie said and headed back towards the Landing’s old bait store they used as a general store thinking that was where everybody was probably at.

  “Hot damn, Boudreaux, I finally found you somebody that talks French worse than you. Meet Jock!” David said introducing a small man with a big smile and a very thick accent.

  “He no Cajun Davie, he Canadian but I understand him just fine!” Boudreaux said after listening to the man for a moment.

  Louisiana and French Canadian accents are simultaneously totally amazing as well as pretty confounding to the untrained ear. Confounding, not only because this isn’t the culture most folks grew up in, but also because David having spent lots time when he was younger oil rigging in Cajun Country while having to politely ask people to repeat themselves frequently, could understand Boudreaux better than most folks but he had to do the same thing himself now again with Jock. The combination of Cajun accent and French words the Canadian and Arcadian were trying to exchange did even him in, and the group eventually asked the Cajun friend and David to “translate” a few of the words everyone had been missing. Cajun French is different from the language spoken in France. The Acadians migrated from France over 300 years ago. Just as Americans speak English differently after being separated from Englandfor hundreds of years, the same is true of the Acadians. French Cajuns and French citizens can understand each other, but with difficulty.

  “He say Philburn sent him and his RV camper of all things down here to convoy his metal deposit for the year to Rendezvous, he also want to know what smells good cause he envie the beef he smell cooking wants to know what else is on the menu that needs tending.” Boudreaux said sagely as David furthered the translation for everyone else present.

  envie [ahn-vee] noun: A longing or hunger to do or eat something. Other Southerners might use the word ‘hankering’ where a Cajun would use ‘envie.’ “I’ve got an envie for some boudin”

  “It ain’t done cooking yet. What’s the deal with that plantation and river boat he mentioned? He said something about black, I caught that.” David said wondering what kind of workers it had.

  “He just say a old black woman and crazy boss southern white man own boat but they no relations. I don’t quite understand that but it sounds like they got them a barge of some kind with an old tug to pull them about. He says they got silver dimes for sale or trade and for us to get all we can. As for the plantation thing, it’s just a bunch of old broke down survivors trying to make a worn out piece of land work the same as us, they be free traders but not associated with the trade union, so no worries. Is that right, Podna?” Boudreaux asked and got affirmation from Jock that this was true because David’s clan tried not to trade with anyone directly that wasn’t a free trader or had help that wasn’t a totally free man or woman.

  Podna…friend or partner

  “I already give him a cabris about talking to Captain Mertz by the way and tell him to park his RV over at my camp.” Boudreaux declared.

  He’s got the cabris: He’s got a wedgie (his underwear is stuck between his buttocks)

  “B
oudreaux, I see that you’re trying to cheat again, what are all those trade boats of yours doing at my Landing anyway? Ain’t you got your own party to tend to at the trading post after this event?” David asked a bit miffed about the number of strangers that had been appearing off and on throughout the day.

  “Ah, Davy boy, you worries too much, nobody come to spoil your fun today, Mon’Aimee. They just hear you going to have some big fireworks and come to see the show. You be glad Boudreaux here and has his crew with him too if anybody trouble you. Besides, only two of them boats she belongs to me. The rest of the boats they be private or belong to that old pirate trader Mertz. He be looking for you, David, say he want you to let bygones be bygones and forgive him for hiring that bad crew member he get rid of for you both. He fire that man boo coo quick after he hear about you running him off and threatening to weight him down and throw him in lake if he come back. I still not know why you didn’t shoot that bad man, David, but that be your own business. Me, I would have hung him from an old mossy oak on the spot but it funny as hell the way you took care of it so you have no bad problems with Captain Mertz later.” Boudreaux said referring to the way David handled someone pointing a gun at him and then managing to get the best of the situation and turn the tables on the scoundrel.

  “Ah hell, here come Stewart and Farnsworth like I ain’t having enough problem understanding folks today.” Roland said about the two men coming towards them that had their both unique but different British accents that sometimes played the devil with southerner understanding of what they were talking about.

  Boudreaux had been referring to the day Lassiter Slade had come calling over at the Landing complaining that two of his lack of a better word, indentured servant girls, had robbed him and escaped over to David’s end of the Lake and he wanted them and his stuff back post haste.

  Captain Mertz runs his end of the lake under the old colonial practice of indentured servitude. That was where people back in the day paid for their passage to the New World by working for an employer for a fixed term of years. With Captain Mertz’s labor system, you owed him for the ride at least a year if he took you into his community doing something usually menial and hard. David tolerated his presence mainly because the other community was so many and so well armed and occasionally bent the free trader rule because whoever signed those agreements with Mertz did so from their own free will but it was known if you made it to Our End Of The Lake you would likely get sanctuary and that was a big bone of contention between the two rivals. However, a no man’s land and a truce was established between them.

  David listened to him and asked what it was they had allegedly stolen because as far as he knew they had only grabbed an older model Alcort two person Sunfish sailboat of which there were tons of them for the taking to be had on this lake to make their escape on and nothing else. He told Lassiter, in no uncertain terms, that he could have that boat back but the girls were staying because he didn’t like that kind of servitude contract and if they owed any money for room and board then they could come to some kind of terms and he would pay the debt out of his own pocket before the bastard got uppity about it and lost his mind by saying that wasn’t good enough and accused David of harboring the fugitives for his own immoral purposes ‘cause they were kind of pretty looking.

  David had gotten pretty angry and kind of steely eyed and pushy about the insult and told him to get the F word off his Landing and send his boss Captain Mertz over if he had a problem and not some ignorant after birth of a Chinese gang bang like him to do his dirty work to which upon hearing one of David’s lowest of the low insults, produced a gun and the fool tried to take David hostage until he got his way and got back to his boat.

  “Them’s fighting words, David and if you didn’t have half this peninsula on your side I would blow your head off. Get on the boat girls and you stay in front of me, David and no tricks or I am going to let a lot of daylight into you.” Lassiter said grabbing David’s shirt by the collar and motioning towards the two scared and shaking females who had been called to answer their accuser at this meeting.

  “You are going to die, scum.” Said Dump Truck, who was David’s usually present over fed bouncer and friend contemplating whether or not he could survive to take a bullet to protect his friend from this greasy raggedy bastard threatening him.

  “Be cool, Dump, don’t be doing nothing. Hey, Lassiter, if you let up on my collar a mite and calm down some we can work this out and nobody will get hurt.” David began before the former long term convict pistol whipped him with a quick slap to the head with a bit of cold steel gun barrel that didn’t draw blood but hurt like hell.

  “Shut up you, you have caused me and the captain problems before not recognizing runaways and our legal rights. Now then, keep your over sized heathen on a leash and you girls follow in back of me so nobody can get to my back and we going to walk down to my boat and go home!” Lassiter said pushing a somewhat subdued David in front of him with his hands up, as the four of five people not directly involved in this confrontation looked on in horror as their unofficial leader was manhandled towards the lake.

  “Can I come too? I am tired of David’s shit also.” Farnsworth said rising indignantly from his seat and staring daggers at the bouncer Dump Truck who made a grab for him.

  “You will need somebody to sail that boat they stole back unless you are towing it and I think I have worn out me welcome here already and am sick and tired of the rules around here!” Farnsworth said in his clipped British accent looking for all the world as a person who disdained the southern ruffians he was forced to live with and serve under.

  “Why you piece of shit, I saved your ass once!” David began before having the barrel of a .38 police special shoved lightly under his chin to remind him further to shut up.

  “I told you to hush if you remember and as for the rest of you all you need to unload all that artillery you are carrying over here and don’t be leaving out no concealed pocket pistols, neither. As for you, you damned Limey, why in the hell do I need you?” Lassiter asked eying Farnsworth as the rest of David’s group thought about having a double hanging if they ever caught up with the nasty backstabbing pair again.

  “Why I know a bunch of useful things, been working for that cheap old Lord of this God forsaken David place a few years. I know his trade routes and caches.” Farnsworth began before everyone started threatening what they might do with him if he was ever seen again.

  “You forgot this old bastard got money, we will need that too.” Farnsworth said relieving David of his trucker’s wallet suspended from a chain in his back pocket and handing it towards Lassiter with a soft whistle at its brimming contents.

  “Hoo Boy! You might just be useful after all, I am thinking.” Lassiter said lowering his weapon temporarily to receive the bounty that Farnsworth was passing to him who Stewart gave a sideways look and wink to Dump when their attacker wasn’t looking.

  “He keeps his Hundreds hid behind the back of that leather flap in the back of his wallet.” Farnsworth said saddling up beside the man to show him where it was at before deftly pulling a hook bladed carpet knife out of his pocket with his opposite hand and telling Lassiter he would cut him from asshole to elbow if he didn’t drop his gun.

  Caught unawares and his gun pointing at Dump to remain still, Lassiter tried to bluff his way out of the situation saying he would blow the big man away if Farnsworth didn’t drop his knife but that didn’t work.

  “Shoot that big lummox, won’t be the first time he been shot and he has a nasty way of living to do some damage afterwards before he gets to the point of needing patched up.” Farnsworth said only half jokingly and threatening to put more pressure on the knife he had resting on Lassiter’s crotch to gut him like a fish.

  “Get his gun, Dump.” David said escaping the hold on his shirt and rubbing the lump he had on his head from getting pistol whipped.

  “Can I hit him?” Dump asked with a ‘mess with me now, boy’ smile David h
ad seen all too often.

  “Nah, don’t hit him, I want to talk to him more while he got his teeth and wits about him. Nobody is going to hit him today.” David said while Dump blocked the two women from jumping on him and getting a few licks in.

  “Nobody except me!” David said after a long pause while the commotion settled down and then aimed a haymaker punch his way pointed at his chin that took the bigger man down to his knees.

  “Now then Lassiter, shit you hurt my fist, I am adding that to your score of misdeeds to account for. Now then fool! What makes you think you can come over here and show your ass like this?” David said rubbing his hand with not as much satisfaction as he thought he would have had for the payback to the lump on his head and scaring everyone half to death.

  “Mertz said catch them and I caught them. He is going to be pretty pissed off that you stole more people from him again.” Lassiter said rubbing his jaw from where David had tagged him a good one.

  “I ain’t stole shit, how many times do I have to tell you all, you can’t own people, contract or not? Gimme his gun, Dump and escort him down to his boat. Hang on a minute.” David said pushing the gun barrel down in the mud and filling up the barrel.