by Bible, Jake
“When do we set out?” I ask.
“Soon,” Big Daddy says. “We’ll have to get our ducks in a row first. Plus, I want them to see us getting ready, make a show of it.”
“Make a show of it?” I ask. “What does that mean?”
“You think they’re watching us?” Stella asks.
“They’ve been eyeing the Farm for weeks now,” Julio says. “And we let them. They’re looking for the weak spots. They can go right ahead. There aren’t any.”
“Humility, please, Julio,” Big Daddy says. “Let’s not tempt the Lord.”
“Right, of course,” Julio says. “Either way, we are locked down tight. You’ll see when everyone gets here in the morning.”
“Speaking of,” Big Daddy says as he stands up and stretches. “Dawn comes quick around here. Best we all get some rest.”
“But soon when?” Stella asks. “What about Whispering Pines?”
“They’ll still be there,” Big Daddy says. “I’m leaning towards your man’s theory. And if what Sweetie Mel has told me about this Brenda Kelly woman over the years, then I do not doubt that she has worked it out so your neighbors can stay and she is sitting pretty. Whether she’s in cahoots or not with Wall Street. We have time.”
“Not much,” Julio adds.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Because even if she is crafty, like you said, she ain’t bright,” Julio replies. “Eventually, she’ll screw up and get herself and everyone else killed.”
I can’t argue with that.
We say our goodnights and go to find the kids. We gather them, and Elsbeth, and Melissa shows us to a guest room on the third floor of the farmhouse. We get settled in and I’m just about to whisper to Stella when I hear her snores. That’s a good sign. If she’s snoring, then she feels safe. And if she’s feeling safe, then I’m doing my job.
“Daddy?” Greta whispers.
“What, sugar?”
“Are you going to have to fight?”
“Probably.”
“Can I come?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Charlie said he’s going with you to fight.”
“Charlie is full of shit and was probably just saying that to piss you off.”
She’s quiet for a while then, “Yeah, you’re right.” More quiet. “Is Elsbeth going?”
“Yes,” Elsbeth says, “I am going.”
“Will you guys be quiet, please?” Charlie asks. “Or is that request too full of shit.”
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“Make it up to me by shutting the hell up so I can sleep,” Charlie says. “Jennifer says we have to get up with the roosters. That’s going to hurt.”
“Jennifer?” I ask.
“His new girlfriend,” Greta giggles. “Mr. Patel’s oldest daughter.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Charlie says. “She’s way older.”
“You couldn’t stop looking at her,” Greta teases.
“Children,” Stella says, sleepily. “Hush and sleep. You too, Daddy. Tired. Must sleep.”
It takes a while for my mind to wind down, but eventually I crash out. Next thing I know, the roosters are at it and I can hear the farmhouse creaking and groaning as the household wakes and gets ready for the day. My eyelids part and I can just make out a dark purple stain outside the window. Morning comes early. Whoever Jennifer is, she’s right.
But, to beat back the cruelty of the early hour, there are smells. Smells I haven’t experienced in so, so long. Bacon and ham. Sausage and country gravy. I can smell grits, biscuits, and vanilla in something. Chicory coffee. My mouth starts to salivate. I thought dinner had been amazing last night, and now I will be treated to a breakfast that I didn’t think existed outside my memories.
There’s a knock on the door and a light brown face peeks in. “Charlie? Greta? Breakfast is ready in just a few minutes.”
“What about us?” I say, stretching in bed as Stella gets up, trying to rouse the kids.
“Kids eat first,” she says. I wonder if this is Jennifer. “That way they have full bellies in case.”
She closes the door, leaving the “in case” behind.
“What does that mean?” Greta asks, all early morning growly and pissed. “In case of what?”
“I’m guessing in case we have to run for it,” I say.
Charlie gets up quick and looks around. “Run for it? I thought we were safe? Aren’t we safe?”
“We’re safe,” Stella says, “I’m sure it’s just part of their safety protocol. This place may look wonderful, but it’s only a few fences away from the Zs. You can’t let your guard down.”
“But you can stuff your bellies,” I smile. “So get to it, you two. We’ll be down in a second.”
Elsbeth rubs her eyes and rolls over to look at us. She shoves the blankets off of her and gets up from the pallet on the floor.
“Good Morning,” Stella says.
“Morning,” Elsbeth nods. “It smells yum. Do we get to eat already?”
“When the kids are done,” Stella says. “Maybe we can go find a shower to use?”
“You do that,” I say. “I’m going to find the men folk and talk about men stuff.”
“Good luck with that,” Stella says. “Try not to sound too smart. Men folk don’t like it when you get too smart for your britches.”
“That only applies to women, not other men folk,” I say. “So shut your mouth and go make me some grub, woman! And make sure those nethers are clean in case I feel like rutting later!”
Elsbeth’s face is pure shock.
“We’re just playing, honey,” Stella says as she steers the young woman out of the room. “See you downstairs.”
I smile and wave, then turn to the window and the line of pink/orange that is coming up over the horizon. The Farm begins to show itself in the morning glow and I look out at it from the third story. What I see is life, despite the shadows of the Zs along the fences. I may not know anything about farming, but I have to wonder if I could make a go of it. Maybe going back to Whispering Pines isn’t such a great idea. I wonder what everyone else would think?
“Are you kidding?” Landon says when I make this thought available to all as we stuff our faces with the amazing goodness that is before us on the long table. “I’m not staying in the sticks. I have a PS4 at home. A PS4.”
“As much as I do not like your friend here,” Big Daddy says, ignoring the look of anger and shock on Landon’s face. “I have to agree. You folks need to go back to your homes. The key to our survival as a species is diversity. If we all hunker down together, then pretty soon we’ll be more inbred than a Tennessee family reunion.”
“I’m from Tennessee,” Carl says.
“Yes, but you ain’t exactly breeding now are ya?” Buzz says, smiling. The look he gets from Melissa wipes the smile off his face. “Didn’t mean any offense. It was just a joke.”
“Not funny,” Melissa says.
“As I was saying,” Big Daddy continues, ignoring his children, “we need diversity. We need more than just the Farm. Or the Commune. Or Critter’s Holler. Or-”
“Wait, what?” I ask. “Critter’s Holler?”
Big Daddy waves me off. “We’ll get to that later. Back to my point, in order to rebuild we have to rebuild it all. Not just the life out here, but the life back in Asheville. Cities have their place. I admit I haven’t been a fan of city folk or that way of living, but an urban center can provide a central place for trade, for security, for education, for society. I’m a man of the land, but not everyone is cut out for it.”
“Amen to that,” Landon says.
Big Daddy gestures at Landon and raises his eyebrows to prove his point.
“Wait, hold on,” Stubben says, a rare enough thing. “You want us to rebuild the city?”
“Yes,” Big Daddy says. “If it’s done right, then there is a place for others to come. Security will be number one, since I’m sure plenty of folk
from Georgia and South Carolina will want what we build, but it can be done.”
“Georgia?” Stella asks.
“Like a Georgia peach,” Elsbeth says. Everyone looks at her, but she just shoves a biscuit in her mouth and smiles, crumbs tumbling to the table.
“Okay,” Stella says. “What do you mean folk from Georgia and South Carolina?”
“We run into them all the time,” Julio says. “When out trading with the other folks. Stragglers escaping the herds that come pouring out of Atlanta or down by Columbia.”
“Feel lucky we’re up here in the Blue Ridge,” Buzz says. “The Zs have a hard time getting up the mountains. Down by Charlotte?” He shakes his head. “It’s a mess.”
I’d never really thought about other survivors looking for homes other than locals. I just figured people stayed close to the familiar. Or that they all died. A stupid idea, but not out of the realm of possibility. I’ve never met a single person not from around here since Z-Day. Guess that shows me what I know. Then I think of all the bums. Jesus…
“We don’t have the manpower to clear Asheville,” I say. “Or we would have done it by now.” I glance over at Elsbeth who is trying to see if she can simultaneously fit a forkful of eggs in her mouth, while her other hand tries to jam three pieces of bacon in there. “It’s not just Zs, you know. Who are we to say who stays and who goes?”
“I think simple morality tells us that,” Big Daddy says. “This young woman has come around, now hasn’t she?”
Elsbeth finally looks up and sees that we’re all watching her.
“Wuh?” she asks, bits of yellow flying from her lips.
“A little civilization may be in order, but she hasn’t tried to eat any of us,” Big Daddy smiles. “People do what they have to do to survive. We remove the ‘have to’ from that equation and we’ll get civilization up on its feet in no time.”
I rub my forehead, the million ramifications and variables rushing through my brain, and sigh.
“You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, haven’t you?” I ask. “Us coming here just moved up your timetable.”
“It did,” Big Daddy nodded. “Got me to realizing that I may not be the only one thinking about this.” He pushes his plate to the side and leans forward on his elbows, his hands clasped. “This Wall Street fella, he’s got the same plan, just not as inclusive. He doesn’t want to rebuild. He wants to build over. And his way. We let that happen and we’ll be at war for the rest of our lives. Not just with the Zs, but with people. And that scares me more than twenty acres of undead.”
He lets that sink in for a bit.
He’s right. People are the scary part of the apocalypse. Zs are like the landscape. A dangerous, bitey part of the landscape, but something that’s just there to be wary of. Like rattlesnakes or a bad undertow at the beach. Okay, maybe a little more extreme than that. More like living with grizzly bears everywhere. But still, something you learn to deal with because they are now a part of nature. They are predictable, or as predictable as nature can be.
But people?
People are never predictable. And we can fortify Whispering Pines, or the Farm, as much as we want against Zs, but with the human element out there, we will never live with any semblance of security. Say we take out Wall Street (yes, I will give in and call him that) and all of his bikers and soldiers and whatever they are. Say that happens. Then what? We just go back to “normal” life in Whispering Pines? I figure shit out while Stella teaches the kids and douche nozzles like Landon sit around playing PS4?
Not sustainable. It only postpones the inevitable. It postpones the time when a new Wall Street comes along. Or all the cannibals hiding in dank basements run out of food in the city and come for us. Do I want to live in fear of the day the cannibals unite? Sweet Jesus, no, I have enough problems without worrying about becoming someone’s long pork hoagie.
I realize everyone is looking at me.
“What?” I ask. “Did I miss something?”
“I asked if you thought we could establish a better form of communication,” Big Daddy says. “The telephone poles are still up. I’m sure most of the lines are severed here and there from downed trees and whatnot, but with some work, we could have Ma Bell up and going again.”
“I think that would be more for Carl and Landon to say,” I reply.
“Oh, they can say all they want,” Big Daddy responds. “I want your opinion. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“I, uh, I don’t know,” I say. This guy is really throwing a lot at me. Rebuild Asheville? Rebuild the telephone system? What’s next? Get one of the hydroelectric dams running? There are like five or six in Western North Carolina. Just one could do the trick…
I can feel sweat breaking out on my forehead and suddenly my stomach is in knots.
“Where’s the outhouse?” I blurt.
“Baby? Are you okay?” Stella asks as I stand up suddenly.
“Just need to use the facilities,” I say.
“Uh, I’ll show you,” Stella says. “Just out back and to the side.”
“I’m fine, I got it,” I say, hurrying from the room. “Be right back. Talk amongst yourselves. Nothing to worry about.”
But there’s a lot to worry about. Too much, in fact. The variables. The millions of variables. The systems that would need to be brought back on line? Who knows how to do that? The miles of line to be checked. Miles of it! I just want to get home, sleep in my own bed, and worry about Zs at the fence and gate. I just want the simple life again, no matter how deadly or dangerous. I didn’t come to the Farm to talk about city building and turning the infrastructure back on. I thought we’d get some help, maybe go back, kill some people, take back our suburban homes, and then deal with the usual shit that we deal with in the zombie apocalypse.
I barely get the outhouse door open before I spew my wonderful breakfast everywhere. I do mean everywhere. I completely miss the seat over the hole. There’s puke on the seat, though, so I’m close at least. But there’s also puke on the floor and the walls and pretty much all over me.
“Jace?” Stella asks quietly from behind me. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Her hand touches my shoulder as I brace myself against the doorframe to stay upright.
“Oh, baby, you are sick,” she says. “Let’s get you cleaned up and inside. You need to rest.”
“I’m not sick,” I say just as a loud gurgle from my guts tells her otherwise. “Well, not sick sick, just upset.”
“Upset? Why? This is what we’ve talked about late at night when the kids are asleep,” Stella says. “Building something.”
“I meant Whispering Pines,” I say. “Not Asheville as a whole. It’s just too much. Who will be in charge? Who does what job? We’ll need a ton more people just to make a dent in the damage and get things cleaned up. With more people comes more trouble. This isn’t good, Stella. There’s too much to deal with. Too much.”
I’m close to hyperventilating and she can see this. She grabs me and pulls me away from the outhouse, doing a great job not to gag as she sees the puke on my shirt and jeans. She sits me down in the still moist grass and pushes me back so I’m laying out, my eyes looking up at the blue sky.
“Relax,” she says softly. “You don’t have to figure it all out. You’ll be part of it, we all will, but it won’t fall on your shoulders. There are other people in the world that are capable of making smart decisions, not just you.”
“And we have the numbers,” Big Daddy says from the back porch. “Sorry to eavesdrop. Just a little worried that our brain is cracking up.”
“I’m not the brain,” I say. “Carl is smarter than me. And as much as I hate to admit it, so is Landon.”
“It’s not about smarts,” Big Daddy says as he comes into the yard. “It’s about brains. You don’t just think, you work out if that thinking is worth anything. You use common sense and life experience, Hoss. That’s brains. I’ve met a ton of smart guys in my life. They
could rattle off facts and figures until they were blue in the face. But they were dumb as paint. You get what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But it doesn’t make a difference.” I push myself up onto my elbows. “I always thought the Farm was this vast place with people everywhere. When Melissa said we were coming here, I pictured dozens and dozens of workers hurrying about.” I sigh. I can’t help it. “But it’s only a few families. A lot of kids. Wall Street will laugh his ass off when we show up.”
“I’m about to laugh mine off, Hoss,” Big Daddy says. “How about you clean the sick off yourself and come out front. I’d like you to meet some folks that have arrived while you’ve been sinning against the cooking.”
I look at Stella. “What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I followed you out here.”
I get up and see the puke. I go to a pump close to the house and wash myself as best I can, even drinking straight from the spigot and giving my mouth a good rinse. I run some water over my head and shake, feeling a little better.
“Presentable?” I ask Big Daddy.
He’s smiling and nods. “That’ll do, Hoss. Follow me.”
I do. We walk through the kitchen, the dining room, and by the time we’re in the living room, I can hear it: the buzz of people. A lot of them. How’d I not notice the noise before? Oh, right, the puking.
“What the…?” I ask as we step onto the front porch. “Where’d they all come from?”
“You know what the problem with Whispering Pines is?” Big Daddy asks as I scan the huge crowd. There must be at least fifty people, maybe even more. Men, women, teenagers. The only young kids I see, are the ones I’ve already met.
