Tabernacle (Super Pulse Book 3)

by Dave Conifer

  But whoever thought of it had been right. When he saw the fried inverter, he saw opportunity. He didn’t have to understand how this gadget did what it did, which was to convert whatever came from the solar panel into usable electrical power. All he had to do was replace the burned up electrical parts with ones which could do the same job. For nearly two months he’d scavenged through Transportation’s junk yard in the woods down by the lake, collecting electronic parts and rebuilding the inverter piece by piece. Now it appeared to be running, but he had no way to be sure it was working correctly. If only Dwayne was here.

  While he was enjoying the work, this project didn’t even seem useful to him in the first place. For one thing, they only had one panel, and one rebuilt inverter, with no way to build any more of them. The trickle of energy this would generate was hardly worth the effort. It wasn’t like they could order out for more equipment. Besides, there wasn’t anything left to plug in, anyway. But he’d been given a job to do. He’d soldier on with it.

  Catching his own reflection on the glass door of the cabinet behind his work bench, Anthony couldn’t help laughing, despite his bitterness at being left without help. After years of careful cultivation and styling, he’d finally managed to grow a chinstrap beard to go along with the shoulder-length hair that had seemed like a worthy statement of rebellion at the time. Despite his father’s derision, he’d been strangely proud of his edgy look. Now, however, shaving was a luxury that none of the men in Tabernacle were afforded with. The same was true for haircuts, although the new barber shop was helping with that. But despite his efforts in the old days to stand out, he looked like everybody else. Or, more accurately, everybody else looked like him.

  Almost. The bushy red fuzz that hung from his jaw line made him look maniacal. All he could think about when he came face to face with a mirror was cutting it off. Then again, the rest of the males in camp probably felt the same way, he reminded himself. His girlfriend, with whom he’d been allowed to occupy a cabin with back in the Village, had never liked the beard in the first place, so the feeling went double for her.

  Recollections of his father’s distaste with the beard saddened him. He had no idea where his father was, or even if he was still alive. A few days after the EMP, when it was clear that the problem wasn’t going away, he’d decided to go into the city to check on his father, who lived alone in an apartment above his Sansom Street shop. His plan was to bring him out to the safety of the suburbs. After checking around his Cinnaminson neighborhood he’d borrowed a bicycle that was sturdy enough to carry him and his father out. He’d loaded a backpack with food and water and set out one steamy August morning.

  Before he’d even reached the bridge to Pennsylvania he’d been forcibly separated from the bike, as well as all his food, by a band of thugs who also beat him badly before leaving him on the side of the road. None of the people who saw the beating came to his aid, but he knew nothing fatal had been done to him. He’d lost some blood, but still had his teeth and no bones had been broken. He made his way to the river, drank some of the filthy water, and waited a few days until he felt healthy enough to continue on foot. The shop wasn’t too far from the other end of the bridge. All he had to do was get across.

  Once he had nothing to steal, nobody bothered him. In fact, he thought he saw fear in the eyes of anybody he did encounter. And why not? An empty-handed, hungry man was far more dangerous than one with food and transportation. In a way, he was thankful that he’d gotten the beating over with early. Not that being hungry and alone in a burned, desolate hulk of a city was something he was enjoying. The worst problem was the diarrhea and the stomach cramps. He knew it had to be a result of the water he’d drunk from the river.

  Like everything around it, his father’s shop had been looted and was in shambles. This probably happened during the first few days, when the criminals believed, along with everyone else, that the power would come back on. Now, he could only laugh at the thieves. All they had were heavy heaps of stolen metal and rocks that were neither valuable nor useful in the changed world.

  His father was nowhere to be found. There was simply no sign of where he’d gone or what had happened. His apartment was in the same shape as the shop, but that could have happened after his father had bugged out. He walked up the block and back, shouting his name and hoping for some kind of clue, but there were none. All he got were a few vacant stares from the few people he came across.

  There was nothing to do but cross back over the bridge back to Jersey. The chances of finding something to eat seemed better there. But a few miles before he’d reached Cinnaminson came another attack and beating, this one for no apparent reason except for his being there.

  When he awoke he found himself in a makeshift hospital, with an IV in his arm. His entire body ached. A few minutes after returning to consciousness, a solemn black man visited him. He’d be on his feet in no time soon, and was welcome to stay or leave.

  He wanted to stay. These people seemed decent, and they were the closest thing he’d seen to civilization since all this had started. They even brought his girlfriend in from Cinnaminson. Maybe they could help him find his father. From that day on, he was completely on board with whatever the man called Grover told him to do. And that’s why he would stick with the task of rebuilding the solar power system, regardless of how useless he thought it would turn out to be.

  ~~~

  Jesse Cobbins and Del Ketch, each in charge of clearing one of two adjacent fields that would be used for planting in the spring, were taking a breather along with their crews. It was tough work. The trees needed to be chopped down, sliced up and carted away. The stumps then had to be dug out. For now, the scrubby growth on the ground would stay. That would be plowed up at planting time. How they would plow was a problem left for the future. For now, the task was restricted to the removal of nearly a hundred pine trees of varying sizes between the two fields. It was a brutal task, assigned to men who weren’t used to that kind of labor. That’s why they took so many breaks.

  “I’m still surprised our fields will be outside the wall,” Jesse said after downing his third cup of water. Like Del, he was sweating despite the November chill because of the intense work. “Food is like gold. It’ll be ten times worse by next March for anybody that’s still alive. It seems like a dumb idea to leave it unprotected.”

  “My dad always told me there ain’t no such thing as a dumb idea,” Del said. “Just dumb people thinkin’ them up.” Jesse shook it off. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that bit of wisdom from Del, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. They both watched another crew that was working equally hard on the wall, which would eventually encircle the proper area of the camp, but not the fields. That project had moved much more quickly in recent weeks as idle members of other subcommittees joined their ranks. Now, however, their progress had been slowed again, as workers were pulled in order to work on clearing the fields.

  “They said a separate wall will get built around here by then,” Del said. “Then--“

  “Yeah, right,” Jesse said, interrupting him. “We won’t even have the first wall around the camp done before then. You and me both know that isn’t happening.”

  Del shrugged. “It ain’t up to me,” he said helplessly. “I just work here. But you’re right. We’ll need to park an army by these fields once stuff start’s growing, until that wall goes up.”

  “Yup,” Jesse agreed. “But it’s the best we can do, I guess.” Neither man spoke again for a few minutes, until it was time to get back on the job. Winter was coming. The days when this type of work was possible were numbered. There was no time to waste. It had to get done now.

  Fifteen

  As they discussed their plans, John wouldn’t even consider most of the suggestions from the others, many of which involved leaving weapons behind and splitting up to cover different sections of the town. When they left the van, it was in a single group with a single destination. Moreover, they all carried rifles a
nd plenty of ammunition, both of which were concealed as much as possible. Nick surprised himself by admitting silently that John had it right. They were on foreign territory now; the first order of business was to protect themselves, and to be prepared to pull out if it got too dangerous.

  “Nick, they told me you should do the talking, when it comes to that,” John said as they crossed Hemlock Street. “I’m okay with it. Just don’t make any promises. I’ll be right there with you listening.”

  “Got it,” Nick said. “And I hope all we do here is talk. No shooting, at least. All of a sudden I’m a lot more nervous about coming here than I thought I’d be.”

  “You got that right,” Dwayne said. “Who knows what we’re gonna’ find.”

  “I thought it’d just be a bunch of hungry people sitting in front of their houses with desperate looks on their faces, just waiting for us to sign them up and take them home with us,” Nick said. “I guess nothing in life is that easy. Not anymore, anyway.”

  “Just be ready,” John said. “Their military people are liable to challenge us as soon as we’re spotted. If we make it clear that we’re not here to attack them, I think we’ll be all right.”

  They walked along a street that, by all appearances, would lead them to the center of town. Nick remembered it from the maps as being Spruce Avenue, which he confirmed at the first street sign. The area was mostly residential so far, but they could see some boxy, brick buildings ahead. Of course, whatever and whoever they were going to find could be anywhere. They were all on guard and watching in every direction. It was obvious that he wasn’t the only one feeling more wary by the second. Several of the others had pulled their weapons out of hiding and had them at the ready, as he did. John, surprisingly, was the only one who still had his tucked away beneath his clothing.

  Like most places that Nick had laid eyes on in the previous few months, the town of Lockworth had seen better days. Every house appeared to have been broken into. Trash was everywhere, as if nobody was even trying to put it all in one place anymore. Lawns that had been waist-high by August were now brown and matted, and overrun by weeds and litter. Unidentifiable vegetation had grown up out of cracks in the sidewalks and roads before dying and fading to brown in the November cold, giving the landscape a desolate, hopeless look. So far it looked like a ghost town. Nick was having a lot of second thoughts. It was too early to draw any conclusions, but there didn’t seem to be anybody there anymore.

  “This place stinks to high heaven,” Carly said. “I don’t even know what I’m smelling.”

  “Girl, I caught a whiff of it as soon as we opened the van door,” Dwayne said. “I’m glad somebody else finally noticed.”

  “Mostly it’s raw sewage you’re smelling,” Nick said. “Kind of what you get a blast of when you open the access panel of the Outhouse. Crestview was starting to smell like this at the end. It takes a lot of work to do sewage right, especially for a big crowd. Judging by the looks of this place, nobody is bothering with it.”

  “Yeah, so watch where you’re steppin’,” Dwayne said.

  “It’s not just sewage,” John said. “There are a lot of decomposing corpses close by, I’ll tell you that. I’ll never forget that smell.”

  “We need to be careful,” Linda warned. “If there’s anybody still living here, they’re probably sick as dogs.”

  “Imagine how bad the stink must have been when it was warmer,” Dwayne said. “I hate the cold, but at least it keeps the smell down.”

  They passed an appliance shop on the corner of Gold Street. The plate glass window had long since been shattered, but several machines were still at rest and undisturbed inside on the showroom floor. Even looters knew the payoff for humping out a washing machine or refrigerator that weighed hundreds of pounds was lower than low after an EMP.

  The population dearth ended when they stepped onto Gold Street on their way to the center of town. A block away, two women and a dozen small children were also crossing Gold, on a parallel street. The woman in front froze. The two groups eyed each other with mouths open, each surprised to see the other. After the leader barked at the children, they ran out of view back the same way they’d come.

  John took off running behind them, pulling his rifle out from beneath his coat as he ran. Just what we don’t need, Nick thought when he saw that. The rest followed behind, with lanky Dewey bringing up the rear. They rounded several corners in hot pursuit, but found nobody.

  “They’re hiding,” John said. “Someplace nearby. They’re probably inside one of these buildings.”

  “No kidding,” Dwayne said.

  “Lock and load, everybody, if you weren’t already,” John said. “I know they looked harmless, but we can’t take any chances. This just got real.”

  If they were going to search inside the buildings, there were three at the intersection to choose from. Two of them were houses, each dilapidated and obviously looted. Also a possibility was the burned out hulk of a WaWa convenience store.

  “There’s no way they got to the blue house before we turned the corner,” John said, gesturing across the street. “We’ll rule that one out. You two check out the WaWa,” he ordered, pointing at Linda and Dwayne. “Nick, take Dewey with you and look in the brown house. Me and Carly will stay here and stake out the road. Remember, guns ready. We don’t know what’s behind these closed doors.”

  As he and Dewey approached the brown house, Nick had to admit that John was turning out to be a good leader, even if he didn’t care much for him. So far he’d kept his composure better than he had at the meetings, and every decision he’d made seemed like the right one. Once again, Grover made a good call. There was a reason why everybody at Tabernacle followed him without question, even if the hyper-allegiance did creep Nick out.

  After nodding at Dewey and checking his rifle one last time, Nick pushed at the front door, which hung askew from its hinges. Dragging on the hardwood floor, it swung noisily open into a room full of shadows. Seeing nobody, he crept in and waved Dewey to the left before moving through the other side of the house. Moments later they met at the back of the house in the kitchen, which was buzzing with flies. There was something in there that neither of them were anxious to explore. Instead, they turned away to resume their search.

  Scattered all over the floor inside front the door, in what appeared to be a living room or sitting room, were a dozen wicker baskets of all shapes and sizes. Leaves, grass and hard little berries were strewn among them, as if they’d fallen out of the baskets when they were hurriedly tossed or dropped. Nick thought he even saw a mushroom or two. He remembered now that each of the kids was carrying a basket. They must have been on a food foraging mission, if the weeds all over the floor could even be called food. They hadn’t been in town very long, but a picture of life in Lockworth was already emerging. Dirty, hungry, and scared. Or dead, judging by the stench and the flies that surrounded them.

  Dewey pointed up the stairs and looked at Nick inquisitively. Nick had already been eying what was probably a door down to the basement. “Should we split up?” Nick whispered as quietly as possible.

  “I don’t think they went up,” Dewey replied in kind. “Look at all the junk on the stairs. It was, like, mostly little kids. They’d have to clear a path through all that.”

  “Down to the basement then,” Nick said, before turning to lead the way. Despite his best efforts to go undetected, his boots clomped loudly down the wooden steps as he descended, giving himself away. When he was nearly at the bottom of the stairs he saw two women attempting to stretch a blanket across a window, probably to block the light. When they saw Nick’s rifle, one of them screamed. The other dropped the blanket, leaving it hanging limply from Screamer’s hands.

  “We’re not—“ Nick began.

  “Don’t shoot!” Screamer said. “I’ll come! I won’t fight you! But you’re only taking me!”

  “What?” Nick said as he swatted at waves of flies that filled the dank air. Whatever was in
the kitchen, there was even more of it down here. The sound of a whimpering little boy came from somewhere. “What are you talking about? Where’d all those kids go?”

  The sobs of another child gave him his answer. They were all down there with the two women, hiding in the dark. And whatever it was that stunk so bad and was drawing so many flies was right back there with them.

  “Take me, but leave them alone!” Screamer said. “They’re just children, for God’s sake!”

  “We’re not here to hurt you,” Nick said. “We’re not taking anybody anywhere, unless they want to go. You have nothing to fear from us.”

  “Who are you?” she asked suspiciously. She took a step back when Dewey appeared behind Nick. “Where’s the rest of them?”

  “The rest of who?” Nick asked. When there was no answer, he continued. “I’m Nick and this is Dewey,” Nick said, knowing full well how meaningless that would be to her. “What’s over there? Besides the kids, I mean? What’s with all the flies in this place?”

  “Bodies,” the other woman said.

  “Like, human bodies?” Dewey asked.

  “Yes. At least three of them,” Screamer said.

  It all came clear to Nick at that moment, and it horrified him. For whatever reason, the two women thought they were there to hurt them, or kidnap them, or – something. It sounded like it had happened to them before. He could see why they were afraid. A bunch of strangers with guns popping up out of nowhere to roam the streets would have been an alarming sight back in the early days of the EMP in Crestview.

  The women and kids had seen them as a pack of invaders and run away to hide in the basement of this house. Whatever it was they feared, it was worse than sending children to hide among decomposing, fly-ridden human corpses in a dark basement. And even now they were still terrified. All of them. Even the two adults.