by A. R. Wise
"What's the matter?"
"They got a smaller shipment than normal."
"Do you know who they were trading with?"
He nodded but didn't look back at me as he counted the pallets.
"Was one of them named Scott? Jerald Scott?"
Harrison shrugged and then finally turned back to me. "Not that I know of. The traders and I don't get along all that well, so I never dealt much with them. Why?"
"No reason. I'm just trying to find someone by that name and I heard he might be traveling with a group of traders out this way."
Harrison squinted as he eyed me. "No reason, huh? A nomad shows up in the middle of nowhere on a mission to find a man no matter what the cost, and it's for no reason? Sure thing, Chinaman. Sure thing. I didn't live this long by asking too many questions of people that didn't want to talk about it. Know what I mean?"
The old man had a habit of blathering on, so I merely nodded and pointed at the door to Juniper. "Ready?"
"Not at all, but I don't think I'd be ready for this if we stood here for ten more years. Let's get it over with."
I tried to warn Harrison what was waiting for us inside, but nothing I could've said would prepare him for what we found. The family that committed suicide was only the beginning of the tragedy. Many of the yurts hid similar scenes. We found several suicides, but we also discovered multiple people chained to posts, apparent victims of the virus. They were all dead, and I assumed the virus had enough time to burst their internal organs like it had the Popper in my kitchen.
The smell was overwhelming, and I pleaded with Harrison to leave. He'd hoped to give the townsfolk a proper burial, but the magnitude of the tragedy made that impossible. We stopped searching the yurts after the fourth time we found a dead family, and I expected us to head back to the entrance to get away from the stench and the buzzing flies.
Harrison continued forward and I grabbed the crook of his arm to stop him. "Let's go. There's nothing left here."
He pulled his arm away and continued walking.
"What are you looking for? What are you hoping to find out here?"
"How did this happen?" He turned to me and I could see pain in his tortured expression. "Who did this?"
"I don't know. They caught the disease somehow."
"I haven't seen anything like this in over a decade."
"No one's building towns anymore. They all end up like this." I pointed my Glock at the various yurts surrounding us.
"Not like this, though. This is different. These people weren't attacked by Greys, they were infected and they knew it. They tied themselves up or shot themselves once they knew they were infected. This happened quickly. They all got infected at the same time. How did that happen? It don't seem right."
The odor of the rotting corpses and the din of buzzing flies made this a terrible place to argue. "I know, but there's no point in looking through all of these tents. Let's grab what we need and get out of here."
He glared at me. "Grab what we need? We're not taking anything from here. Have some fucking decency."
"Then what are we doing? We can't bury them, and if we burn them we'll attract every damn Grey within ten miles. Why are we wasting time here?"
He couldn't answer, and his inability to come up with a reason caused his posture to weaken. Harrison looked utterly defeated, a shabby old man with a heart filled with pain, and he started to cry. "I knew these people. I held their babies, and helped them build these homes. I ate with them, and sang at their festivals. I stood over here," he walked toward one of the nearby yurts, "and waited with little Billy Marks while his mother gave birth to his little sister in this house." He pointed at the cloth door of the yurt. His voice was low and fractured by sobs. "These were my friends."
"I'm sorry, Harrison. I really am, but this is why no one tries to build towns anymore. If the Greys don't get them, something else will. This is the first town I've seen in years. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did."
Harrison suddenly stared at me, as if he had come to a realization that he wasn't sharing.
"What is it?" I asked.
"How did you know Juniper was here?"
"I didn't. I was waiting for the trade caravan to come through. Stubs came out of here, and I haven't seen a breed of dog like him since the virus got out. That's how I figured out this place was here."
Harrison blinked rapidly and then rubbed the tears out of his eyes as he looked around. "They did everything right. They avoided electricity and rarely lit fires. They had the place set up to keep the Greys out."
"They were taken out by the virus," I said. "I've seen the same thing all across the country."
He seemed suddenly panicked. His eyes widened and he rushed back toward the front of Juniper.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Where are you going?"
"The traders."
"What?"
He ignored my question and continued to run toward Juniper's entrance. He didn't notice the sack of supplies I'd set beside the moat, and I was relieved to not have to explain myself for that. We crossed the bridge and entered the industrial plant that contained the fallen mannequins. "Here," he said as he reached the pallets. "The traders poisoned them."
"What?"
"I could be wrong. I hope I'm wrong, but I think the traders sold them tainted food. It's the only thing that could’ve caused this. That's how the virus got into the town."
It made sense. The man I was chasing, who was last seen traveling with traders in this area, was one of the people responsible for the spread of the disease twenty years ago. I hadn't given much thought to why he was traveling with a group of traders, but perhaps it was so he could deliver a strain of the virus to an unsuspecting population.
"Okay." I nodded as I thought about what happened. "The guy I'm chasing had something to do with the spread of the virus back in the beginning." I glanced back out at Juniper as I started to piece things together. "Maybe he's finishing the job."
"We've got to go." Harrison rushed to the parking lot with me following behind.
"Where are we going?"
"There's another town, a little ways south of here. It's on the same trade route. We need to get there before it's too late."
"Harrison, wait," I called out to him as he got to one of the parked, covered cars. "This place has been dead for a week or two. If you're right, and these traders are selling poisoned food, then they've probably already delivered it to the next town."
Harrison flipped up the plastic tarp over one of the cars and then turned to me. "The traders stop at each town for several days at a time. I had a friend here in Juniper that used to hop up into the trucks and steal stuff while the traders were in the town. She used to hide the stuff in the trunks of the cars in the parking lot until they left, which could sometimes take up to a week. She used to complain all the time about how long they would stay in town, because the stuff she stole would sit and rot when they stayed longer than usual. I bet if we hurry up, we can get on down to the next town before they leave."
"I just want to be careful. I don't want to walk into a trap."
"I thought you wanted to find that caravan. Are you saying you don't want to come with me?" asked Harrison.
"It's not that. I just want to make sure you know what we're getting ourselves into."
"What're you talking about?"
"If they delivered the poison already, then we might be walking into a place that's full of Poppers. And if they're still there, they might not take too kindly to us showing up and accusing them of poisoning this town."
"I've been to hell and back, kid," said Harrison with a wink. His expression might've been one of courage and bravado, but it came off as crazy to me. "I doubt the world's got anything left in it that's worse than that. Let's go."
Harrison retrieved a backpack and a guitar case from his truck and set them down beside the car he'd uncovered. He pulled out a hammer, a multi-purpose screwdriver, and a wire cutter, the classic tools of a ca
r thief. Knowing how to hotwire a car was one of several necessary abilities for a survivor, and Harrison looked like he knew what he was doing.
"Want me to break the window?"
He shook his head as he pulled out a long, thin metal rod. "No, there're too many damn bugs out here to go driving around with the windows busted out. I've got one of these." He got up and slipped the thin rod down between the car door and the window until, surprisingly fast, he popped the lock.
Harrison wasted no time getting the car started. It was an early century sedan, which meant it was impossible to get started by simply jamming a screwdriver into the keyhole and turning it, unlike many of the cars built before the early 1990's. This car required Harrison to break open the steering column and work on the wires. He cut and stripped the power wires first, then tied them together to get the power to turn on. The lights on the dash sprung to life and he looked back at me with a wide, goofy grin. "When was the last time you met a preacher that knew how to do this?"
"When was the last time I met a preacher?" I said.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
Harrison mumbled a curse at me as he got back to work. The brown wires inside of the column were for the starter, and he swiftly stripped them and rubbed them together to get the car to start. It rumbled and sputtered, but eventually the engine caught and the vehicle hummed, ready to carry us onward. The old man was adept at this and even had electrical tape ready to cover the exposed starter wires to avoid getting shocked while driving.
"I'll drive," he said as he ushered me in. "Grab my stuff and throw it in the back seat."
I did as asked, and then set Stubs back there as well. The sedan was rusted and black smoke puffed out of the back with worrisome regularity, as if the old vehicle was struggling to stay running.
"Can we drive over to the house I was staying at? It's right by where the spike strip was set out. I need to grab my things."
"Sure."
"How much gas is in this thing?"
Harrison tapped on the console with a smile. "Full up. Dexy used to keep the cars out here filled, just in case something happened and they needed to get out of town in a hurry." He smiled and shook his head in appreciation of his lost friend. "You would've liked that girl. She was the one that would steal from the traders. A girl after my own heart, that one. Too young for me though, coulda been my granddaughter. Besides, she had a honey anyhow. Was going to get married." He paused in reflection and then focused back on the task at hand.
We drove out of the industrial plant's parking lot and back onto the road that would lead us to my house. "Did you have a house there? In Juniper?"
"No," said Harrison quickly and emphatically, as if it was a foolish question. "I'm not fit for a place like that. I'm a road warrior. A scoundrel and a thief, a beggar and a prophet, a wisher and a dreamer." He shook his head and then scratched at his beard before repeating himself. "I'm not fit for a place like that."
"I thought you were a preacher. What's all this talk about being a scoundrel and a thief?"
He looked at me, his blue eyes sparkling in the fading day's light. They looked oddly beautiful amid his dirt-laden face. When he smiled, his crow's feet stretched streaks of well-worn wrinkles across his leathery skin. "The Bible's full of wisdom, but a man's got to eat. Catch my drift?"
"Not really."
"I've got a life full of sin to atone for, and the only way I'm going to earn my place in Heaven is if I live a damn long life down here, preaching to those that need preaching."
"So how does that make you a scoundrel?"
He looked less happy when he looked at me this time. When he answered, he did it with a sorrowful tone. "How many folks have you met out on the road that were still alive and weren't at least half a scoundrel?"
"Amen," I said with a smile, despite being as far from a religious man as a person could be.
He shook his head and sighed. "I wish you could've seen Juniper. It was a hell of a place, filled with good people. Short on scoundrels. We need more places like that if we're going to build a society again. You know?"
I shook my head and watched the road as we got closer to the house where I'd been staying. "I gave up on society a long time ago."
Harrison was saddened by my admission. "Why's that?"
"What's the point? Every time a new town pops up, the Greys swarm in or the disease rears its ugly head. The only way to make it in this world is to keep moving. That's just the way things are now." I pointed at my dilapidated shelter in the distance. "There's my place."
"That one?" asked Harrison. "The white one with the busted out side? Why were you staying in that shit hole?"
"It had the best view of the road."
Harrison looked at me, and then at the broken down house as he licked at his teeth under his lips, as if ruminating on something I couldn't understand. "Hm," he murmured.
"What?"
We stopped on the side of the road, near my shelter. Harrison nodded at the house and said, "Nothing, it's just interesting is all."
"What's interesting?"
He adjusted his position so that his right leg was on the seat between us. "Even when you get a chance to put up your feet for a bit, you pick a place like this, with a wall that's fallen down so you can see the road."
"I needed to keep an eye out for the trade caravan," I said.
"Okay, all right." Harrison held up his hands in surrender, making me realize that I'd answered him more forcefully than intended. "You're a road warrior, tried and true. To the core, kid. Heart of asphalt, soul of a traveler. Destination unknown and shit like that."
The old man's garbled speech wasn't worth responding to and I hopped out of the car. I closed the door and then leaned in through the open window. "If you take off with my dog, I'll hunt you down and send you back to see the Devil."
He laughed and looked into the back seat. Stubs was sitting in the center seat, his tongue flopping out as he panted. "Don't worry, Benji, I'm not going to steal your dog."
"It's Ben," I said as I walked away.
I collected my gear, which wasn't difficult since I always kept my things ready for a sudden escape. Before I left, I untied the nylon rope from the banister. The rope was one of my most prized possessions, behind my guns and knife. It not only served to function like you'd expect a rope to, but the knots I'd tied in it also provided me with an easy measuring tool. I wound the rope up and put it onto the side of my pack with a metal clip.
I also took the opportunity to change my clothes and pack up the poncho now that the storm had passed. When I finally emerged from my shattered shelter I glanced back and thought about Harrison's reaction to it. I probably could've found a home that was intact and still been afforded a fair view of the road. Upon examination, I recognized that my decision to sleep in a home that was falling apart was due to my unfamiliarity with sleeping in a confined space. I preferred being out in the open, alone, and unencumbered by concerns for anything other than my own survival.
"Come on, kid," yelled Harrison. "Don't go feeling all weepy over this place. I'll find you a thousand shitty houses to sleep in, if that's your thing."
"Pop the trunk," I said as I walked to the back of the car.
He did, and I lifted the trunk to put my backpack inside. What I found surprised and delighted me. "Well fuck me," I muttered as I looked down at the arsenal before me.
Harrison watched me from his side view mirror. "What? What's back there? What'd you find?" He opened the door and got out, excited to see what I'd discovered. "Did Dexy steal something good?"
He came around and stared down at the trunk full of ammo and guns. All of it appeared to be military grade, and was in pristine condition. There were several F2000 assault rifles, a box of flares, two flash bang grenades, and enough ammunition to arm a small army. I giggled in delight, like a child stumbling upon a present they weren't supposed to find yet.
Harrison whistled and shook his head. "The Devil'
s got a plan for you, kid."
"The Devil?" I laughed at the insinuation. "If anything, this is a gift from God!"
He shook his head and walked back to the driver's side door. "God doesn't deal in bullets, kid."
CHAPTER 4 – First Sun’s Light
COBRA DAWN
Hailey put her arms around me and pulled my body closer. I didn't have the chance to look at her before we were pressed against one another. I could feel her heart, and she could certainly feel mine as it hammered in my chest. I put my arms around her and she set her chin on my shoulder.
"I'm scared," she said.
"Of what?"
"I'm scared to let you see me."
"Why?" I asked, although I was also leery of revealing myself. The thought of Hailey, one of the prettiest of the Dawns, being self-conscious was endearing.
"I'm scared you'll think I'm ugly. I have freckles, and you don't. Your skin is so perfect and clear. Mine is disgusting."
"Stop it," I said and tried to pull away. She tightened her grip around my shoulders to keep us pressed against one another.
"I'm serious. I feel so ugly. This was a bad idea."
"Well, it might've been a bad idea, but not because you're ugly. You're beautiful. I've always thought you were the most gorgeous girl here. I stared at you every chance I got. Your beauty fascinates me." I leaned back and set my hands on her waist. "Let me see you."
She loosened her grip on my shoulders and allowed me to pull away. Our skin was wet from perspiration and we peeled away from each other, causing a sensation I'd never felt before. She quickly put her arms over her breasts as she moved back.
I took her hands and slowly pulled them down so that we were holding hands, naked in front of another person for the first time. Her skin was pale, and freckles dotted her chest. Her nipples were wider than mine, and her breasts were larger. Her abdominal muscles were taut and when she moved I could see their definition in her stomach. Her pubic hair was red, but not as bright as the hair on her head.
