Chapter 3
In the morning, I went downstairs, and spent some time looking over the house. It was a simple affair, made to seem larger with wide windows. I could see some of the fields outside through the trees and shrubs, and on a whim, I went back upstairs and looked out towards the east. I could see the town in the distance, and even in the early light, I could see cars moving and people moving around. I watched for a long time, and saw no towers, no guards, no defense whatsoever. Maybe the fences I had climbed earlier were keeping the Trippers away, and I had managed to come through without seeing any.
I took a look out the west window, and off in the distance, I could see a grey line right above a green one. I knew I was looking at the wall, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang to get back over there.
I looked to the south and noticed something red on the side of the building. It looked like some kind of writing. I couldn’t see it clearly, so I went outside and fought the brush to the west side of the building.
Up on the second floor, someone had painted in large red letters: JARED HUTCHINS WE ARE SAFE COME HOME.
I had no idea what to make of that. I looked west and tried to judge the distance. I figured someone with a really good riflescope might just make out the letters if they were high enough.
I tossed that one over in my head as I started walking over to the town. Experience had taught me to stash my Colt in my satchel. It was out of sight but with a flip of my hand I could get it out quickly enough.
The town looked normal enough; I had seen enough of them to know when they were occupied. But this one blew away my expectations by miles. The streets were clean, no signs of violence, and the occasional car drove by. No one was walking on the streets that I could see, but I was trying to take in as much as I could. Every business was occupied, although only a few were open. A small restaurant was open, and as I passed, I could smell fantastic things coming from that place, things I hadn’t eaten since my mother died years ago. I couldn’t stop myself; I turned and walked into the place.
There were two people sitting at the counter, and I took a stool on the far edge. I wanted to be able to see the door and the rest of the place. I took off my hat and placed it on the counter in front of me.
“Coffee, cowboy?” a voice spoke in front of me.
I turned to see an older woman standing on the other side of the counter, holding a pot of coffee. I nodded, and she filled a nearby cup.
“Get you something to eat?” she asked. She looked like she had seen a few long roads herself. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, held in place by a pink bandana. Her face would have been pretty a long while back, and she had weary blue eyes. She was probably younger than she looked.
“I’ll have some eggs and bacon, thanks,” I said. I had never ordered anything before, but I had read about people doing it.
“Sure thing, hon. Like your hat, by the way.” The woman walked away and yelled something unintelligible to a hole in the wall. The hole answered with an equally unintelligible noise.
I slipped my hat off to the side as the other men at the counter looked me over with short, quick glances. Whatever they read in their glance must have satisfied their curiosity because they went back to their coffee and breakfasts.
I was trying hard not to stare at everything around me. Nothing I was seeing made any sense. There were no walls, no one was armed, and people seemed to come to this place on a regular basis to simply have breakfast. What did the men at the other end of the counter do during the day? I had no answers, and I wasn’t about to ask. I kept my eyes on the counter in front of me and my hands stayed where they were.
Finally, I stared out the window at the town, watching it wake up while I waited for my breakfast. There seemed to be a sense of urgency as people began their days, and more cars began to show up on the roads. I had never seen such a town, and I wondered how they managed to make it all work, especially when I was seeing electricity, gasoline, and natural gas all in good supply. I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.
My breakfast came and I dug in. The eggs were scrambled, and there was a lot of them. I ate everything, having not eaten for over a day. The bacon was fantastic, something I hadn’t had in a very long time. The woman filled my coffee cup three times. The last time she mentioned my appetite.
“Like to see a hungry man eat,” she said with a smile.
I nodded around my mouthful of biscuit. “It’s been a bit since I ate last,” I said.
“You think you have enough?” she asked, looking at my plate.
“I could eat another plate if that’s what you’re asking,” I said, swallowing the biscuit.
“I’ll send the order in,” she said as she walked over to the small window.
I finished my first plate of breakfast and waited with my coffee for the refill. The men down at the other end of the counter finished their meals and pulled out some bills to pay for their fare.
I suddenly began to panic. I had seen that kind of money before; my dad had shown it to me when I was younger. In Illinois, that stuff was useless for anything other than lighting fires, but it seemed they still used it for commerce here. I had a couple of silver coins with me, inside my gun belt, but I had no idea if they would take that as payment. If I flashed my gold, that might really raise some eyebrows.
My second plate of food arrived, and I decided to ask before I got into trouble. I dug a silver coin out of my pack and placed it on the counter.
“Ma’am? I seem to have left home with nothing but this for payment. Will it do?” I asked.
The woman picked up the coin and looked at it closely.
“One ounce silver,” she read on the coin’s back. “Huh. Haven’t seen any of these for a long time. Not since the trouble. Not sure what it’s worth,” she said, putting it down. She looked over to a corner of the diner.
“Earl? You got the paper. What’s silver worth these days?” She directed her question to an old gentleman having his repast in a corner booth. He flipped through a few pages and ran a finger down a list of something.
“Spot price today is twenty-seven forty-five,” the man said, before flipping back to the page he was reading before.
The waitress turned back to me. “You’re good, hon. Fact is, I’ll owe you some change. Chef said not to charge you for the refill since he’s glad he’s met a man who likes his cooking.”
My panic abated, and I ate easily. When the second plate was finished, I gathered up the paper money and coins left near me and following the lead of the men who had left earlier, I left two single dollar bills on the counter. Gathering up my hat and satchel, I went out onto the street. I had a sated stomach, but my mind was full of hungry questions.
Chapter 4
I walked down the street, just taking in the activity and trying not to attract too much attention to myself. There were several men walking about wearing hats similar to mine, so no one gave that a second look. I didn’t take my gun out of my satchel, since no one I saw wore a gun openly.
Further into town, there were more people about, and the shops were all full of goods and supplies. I had never seen such a variety of things for sale, and I sent a good portion of the morning slowly walking the street, and looking into windows.
At the end of the block, there was a small store, and the sign outside said it was a pawn shop. I had read about them, but had never seen one in person that was open. A small sign in the window caught my eye, and caused me to open the door and walk in.
The interior was an incredible mix of goods and supplies. Whoever owned this place tried to organize it into themes like electronics, sporting goods, and camping supplies. Despite their valiant efforts, things were spilling over into other areas. I looked over a section labeled “Army Surplus,” and I wondered if this was stuff that had been collected when the army was defeated. There were two other men in the store when I entered, and they were over at the counter haggling with the proprietor over some large knives.
T
he owner looked over at me. “Be with you in a second!” he called.
“No hurries,” I said. I went over to the camping supplies and saw a few items that I would like to have with me. An idea came to me. “Do you have any rope?” I asked in the general direction of the counter.
“Around the corner, got some nylon cord,” the disembodied voice replied.
I found the rope, and it was just what I was looking for. It was wrapped in a bundle and the sign said it was rated for a hundred pounds, and was a hundred feet in length. That would work for what I had in mind.
I found some candles and what looked like a little stove, just like the one my dad had made for me. This one looked much nicer, with a small glass window to use as a lantern and a retractable handle that doubled as a platform to warm things up on.
The last thing I looked for in the store was a backpack, and I went over to the army surplus section again. I picked one that was separated into three sections, and able to carry a good deal. I liked my satchel, but it wasn’t big enough. I sure missed Judy and her ability to carry a lot more stuff. I brought my items to the counter.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked. He was an older gentleman with a large, graying beard that covered a good portion of his chest. His arms were tattooed from the wrist up past his shirtsleeves. His graying hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he had a rough but kind-looking face. A large handgun was riding his right hip in a worn leather holster.
“Yes. I need some cash. Do you buy silver?” I asked, pulling two coins out of my satchel.
“Sure. What have you got?” The man reached out and I placed the silver in his hand. He looked at the coins, and nodded. “Let me check today’s spot price.” He went over to what looked like a computer and clicked a small device attached to it. I almost told him, but I kept my mouth shut.
While I waited, I looked at the knives and guns displayed under the glass at the counter. I had never seen so many in one place at one time before. The other men at the counter had moved down, but I noticed they were looking at me and my satchel. They were trying not to be obvious about it, but I could sense their interest.
“Here we go. Looks like you would get fifty-four ninety,” he said. He looked at the things I had brought up. “Taking out what you have here, you’d clear thirty bucks,” He said.
“Sounds good. Can I get a box of ammo, too?” I said.
The man looked at me for a moment. “Sure. What caliber?” he asked, turning to open a small cabinet behind him.
“45 Colt if you have it,” I said.
“Hmm. Let’ see. Got some hunting loads, that’s about it.” He shuffled some boxes. “Wait, got some older stuff back here, hollow-point stuff.”
“I’ll take the hollow points,” I said. I wasn’t sure what those were exactly, but they sounded pretty interesting.
“All right, that brings it to twenty bucks to you. You need a bag?” the man asked.
“Nope, I’ll just put it in the backpack, thanks,” I said as he handed me a bill with a twenty on it.
“All right. If you have any more bullion to sell, you know where to find me.” The bearded man went back to the other men and I took my purchases out the door. I wanted to find a place to sit and reflect on what I had seen, and maybe figure out how I was going to get back to Illinois and back to Kim.
I walked down the street, and I was struck by how normal everything seemed. People just lived their lives as if the Trippers had never been here.
That last thought hit me like a ton of bricks and I actually stumbled s little. Was it possible? The more I thought about it, the more the little things made sense. If Trippers had been through here, how did they have power? Who made that paper the old man was reading, and how was it current? How was the man at the pawn shop able to look up information unless the computer was connected to another giving it information. Where did the food come from at the café? I hadn’t seen any livestock.
I looked around with the fog lifting from my eyes. The people here weren’t worried about Trippers at all. The wall wasn’t there to keep the Trippers out of Illinois, saving what was left of humanity.
It was there to keep them in.
Chapter 5
“Sir, we may have something.”
“I thought the drones reported nothing in the vicinity.”
“They did, sir, but then we caught something on the infrared moving past the secondary fence.”
Captain Vega frowned. He didn’t like problems. He liked his mission, had volunteered for it. He’d been here from the beginning, when the wall first went up. He was part of the squad that got the order to stop all refugees from Illinois. Vega was a corporal then, but he knew what needed to be done.
He knew what needed to be done now.
“Let me see,” he said. The private brought up the image on the computer. It was a black and white image, and it was from a camera that was pretty far away, but there was no mistaking the human shape as it moved across the road and up and over the fence.
“Definitely not a Tripper,” Vega said.
“No, sir. They never could climb like that.”
“So we have a runner. When was this captured?”
“Yesterday, sir. We think they may have reached a town by now.”
Captain Vega swore. “Dammit. That makes it more complicated.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vega thought for a minute. “Send out the runner squad. Let them know where we think this person is. Chances are they’re walking around in a daze, should be pretty simple to pick them up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 6
I walked slowly down the street just trying to process what I was seeing with my own eyes. This was how my world was supposed to be. I thought about Illinois and my family and everyone else in there. I needed some answers, and I really wasn’t sure where to go to get them.
As I walked, I saw signs for various things, and arrows pointing in different directions. One of them was a picture of a person reading something, so I figured that for the library. It was the best idea I had, so I followed the arrows.
The path took me down a side street, which was lined with large buildings. I could see that several people lived in each one, and I had to search my memory for what they used to be called. Apartments. That was it. Strange name for them. The people in those buildings certainly weren’t apart from each other by very much.
As I passed the last building, I started to realize someone was on my trail. The sun was down past the buildings, and the long shadows played through the streets. I used the trees as an excuse to surreptitiously glance behind me. There were two men who were behind me, and when they saw I had seen them, they started to walk faster to close the distance.
I didn’t want to pull a gun in this area; too much attention to myself. I hadn’t faced two men before in a fight; my experience was Trippers and one on one. I had no idea what I was facing. These men could be highly trained killers, or they could be backwater morons. The range was too great to take a risk on. I decided to find my own ground. I needed someplace narrow, someplace where they couldn’t come at me more than one at a time. I did find it ironic that my strategic thinking was for Trippers, but it would work in this situation.
There was a row of garages on the edge of the parking lot in front of the apartments, and between them was a space about eight feet across. It wasn’t the most ideal spot, but it would do.
I stepped between the buildings and walked about halfway down. I stopped and took my backpack off. I kept my satchel in case I needed my gun, and I waited with my hand in the satchel. The handle of my Colt felt very reassuring.
The two men came running up to the garage, and stopped suddenly when they saw that I had not run off. They seemed a little put off that I was standing there, and I used the opening to address them.
“Why are you two following me?” I asked.
The man closest to me, the shorter of the two, answered me first. He was a grim
y-looking fellow, with his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His eyes were narrow and close-set, giving him a predatory appearance, and they looked first at my hand in the satchel before they looked at me.
“Following you? Hell, no. We just happen to be going in the same direction, that’s all,” he said, with a small smirk on his face. He looked over his shoulder and his larger companion backed away, disappearing around the corner of the garage.
I decided to play it easy. “Okay, then keep going. I came in here to repack my bag out of the way of the street,” I said, giving a plausible reason as to why I was out of the way and standing there with my hand in my bag.
“No problem, man, no problem. Y’all have a good day.” He smiled and stepped back, disappearing around the corner.
I waited for a moment, then spent a couple of minutes transferring most of the stuff from my satchel to my backpack. That left just my Colt in the bag, which made it easier to grab if I needed it. I wanted to strap it on, but since I hadn’t seen anyone else wearing a weapon, I decided to leave it in the satchel.
I slung my bags back on and went back out the way I came. I reached the edge of the garage and stopped short. In the shadows, I could see the garage had suddenly grown a man-shaped bulge. I stepped back and shook my head.
“I can see your shadow,” I said loudly.
Ponytail man re-emerged around the corner. He smiled and put his hands out.
“Okay. You got me.” He pointed at the satchel. “You pulled some silver out of that bag. I figure you can pull out some more.”
I shook my head. “All out,” I said. I gauged the man standing in front of me and figured he shouldn’t be too difficult. My worry was his friend, who hadn’t shown up. He was a much bigger threat.
Ponytail smirked and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Well, maybe you’ll just let me see for myself.”
Born In The Apocalypse (Book 3): Jericho Page 2
