Kind of wondering that myself, actually, he mused. He glanced over and watched Hanratty. The Marine was studying the fields on either side of the road with interest. Larry drew away and ahead, and began waving the onlookers they were attracting back the way they’d came. A few shouted out questions, to Larry or Miles, and a few of the bolder ones even yelled out to Hanratty.
“Why are you here?”
“Larry, what’s going on?”
“Miles, who’s that with you?”
After a round of deflecting attention and directing people to the cafeteria for a meeting, Larry turned to Hanratty and Miles and announced, “I’m going to run ahead and maybe collect some of this rabble before the rumor mill gets goes wild. You got the tour under control, son?”
“I’m good, Pops,” Miles confirmed. Larry gave Hanratty a nod and turned to jog down the road.
The Marine Captain watched him go, and said, finally, “That’s a formidable man, right there. So where are we heading?”
Miles glanced at him. “My Uncle Pete’s old equipment barn. We moved the tractors and combines out and use it pretty much as a catch-all. It’s the largest building in the community. Serves as a cafeteria, school house, meeting hall.” He laughed. “And as Pastor Dave calls it, the First Church of the Time Share.”
Hanratty gave him a quizzical look, and Miles explained. “Pastor Dave’s one of the wall guards, he conducts a non-denominational Christian service on Sundays. We tried balancing it out between the Lutherans, Catholics, and Methodists, but it was kind of a hassle coming up with times everyone was happy with. So now they all get together at the same time and argue over points of doctrine. I tell Dave sometimes we should let him wear a referee’s shirt. Umm, Fridays and Saturdays Rabbi Behrens has a dozen or so folks. We’ve got a couple of Hindu families and a Sikh family, but from what Vir tells me, they don’t have a certain day of the week, and just get together in their homes. One of my deputies is married to a Muslim, they pretty much do the same.”
“Pretty big melting pot,” Hanratty noted.
“It’s a good snapshot of before. There were a lot of tech firms and factories around here, so they brought in a bunch of technical and engineering folks. There’s a ton of German and Irish ancestry in the region; they were the majority of the initial settlers when Indiana became a state. Lot of farming families. Not so many now.”
Hanratty nodded. “Yeah,” he drew out. “There is that.” He indicated the fields on either side. “Mostly gardens on the inside?”
“Gardens and hay, yeah. Mostly greenhouses, we don’t have the luxury of year-round growing seasons so we have to have some way of producing in winter. Tom Oliver’s farm is right up here.” Miles indicated the group of buildings they approached. “We’ve got three of them inside the walls — Tom’s, what used to be Miss Martha’s, and my Uncle’s place. Tom runs cattle and we grow pretty much anything we can on the rest of the ground. Outside is soybeans with some corn in the rotation for cattle feed. Most of the folks live in converted buildings or in houses and bunkers on the wall. It’s a bit tight but we’ve got one hundred ninety-eight people in here.” He paused and winced. “One ninety-seven.”
Hanratty glanced at him with a cocked eyebrow.
“We had a murder last night. Larry and I were actually looking into it when you guys showed up.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, you don’t know the half of it.” The two of them fell silent as they walked past Tom’s place. Smoke was already coming out of The Last Bar’s chimney as Tom fired up his grill. Miles turned back to look at Pete, but his uncle waved him off and led the SEALs into the building. Watching them go, Hanratty had a good chuckle at the sign, but it was what he saw as he turned to move back down the road that served as an icebreaker for their conversation to begin anew.
“Cattle?” The Marine gave a slow whistle of appreciation. “Man. Oh, man.” He stood there and looked over the small herd that returned his own curious and excited stare with disinterested eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I had a steak.” He paused. “Is that all you have?”
Miles laughed. “We cull down to breeding stock when it starts getting cold; it’s hard to store enough feed through the winter if you can’t haul it in. They’re all bred, first calves should be born in the next month or so. Only takes about ten months. So if you want a steak, we should be able to arrange that. The Last Bar makes a pretty solid burger, too, though the buns suck and we don’t have a whole lot of cheese that isn’t freeze-dried or canned stuff.”
“A burger. Man,” Hanratty said and shook his head with a broad smile on his face. Still smiling, he turned and started walking again.
“I’d trade it for some bacon,” Miles noted. “Haven’t seen a pig in years.”
As they passed Tom’s farm and neared Miss Martha’s place, Miles pointed out the police station and clinic, each of which were some of the only examples of new construction in the community. “Just can’t give up the field space,” he noted. “Though I guess we had to for the parking lot.”
Miles watched Hanratty’s eyes as they flickered to the lot. Was there a hint of surprise on the other man’s face? Not as much as he might have expected. No, it seemed to be a wary sort of curiosity. And, to be certain, the up-armored Humvees and the battle-worn deuce-and-a-half did seem out of place next to the green and red hulks of the tractors and combines. For a moment Miles felt compelled to explain, but hesitated for fear of sounding defensive. Finally, he said, “Those Army guys, always leaving messes around for others to pick up.”
Hanratty half-choked and half-laughed. “Well,” he finally managed. “I’m glad you guys cleaned up the mess instead of letting it go to waste.”
An hour into the drive, Charlie turned the driver’s seat over to Dalton. The long night had left him exhausted, and it wasn’t long until the hum of the bus’s tires on the pavement lulled him into an uneasy sleep. It wasn’t deep enough for him to succumb to dreams, but he had a vague, senseless sensation of motion and the noise around him. He cruised the borderland between sleep and wakefulness. When Dalton’s voice rose in volume, he straightened immediately and blinked himself awake. The nap had been an unsatisfying one. There was a sour taste in his mouth and his skin was clammy with sweat despite the coolness of the air.
Another hour or two, and that won’t be a problem. Get horizontal on a mattress and I’m out. Then, after sleep, he could figure out how he was going to finagle a personal vehicle. Maybe Miles will loan me his Jeep. Charlie smirked to himself at the thought.
“Damn it, why don’t they answer?” Dalton grumbled. “West gate, this is Team Charlie. Approaching with a load of salvage. How do you read, over?”
Charlie pulled himself up and out of the seat and moved to the front of the bus. He leaned on the back of the driver’s seat and peered through the window. The western border of the compound was just becoming visible on the horizon. They were only a couple of miles out, and well within CB range. Not good.
He glanced over at Corey. The kid’s face was pale, and his hands were tight on the grips of his rifle. “Relax,” Charlie rumbled. Corey gave him a tight nod.
“Come on guys, get off the pot and come back, over,” Dalton barked. They drew closer and closer to the gate. Charlie squinted, but they were still too far away to make out anyone on the wall. After what felt like an eternity, the CB crackled with static.
“Ah, sorry about that, guys. Got a little bit of craziness going on right now. The generator is on and we have the gates ready for you. The field is clear, I say again, the field is clear. Maintain speed unless we call you off, over.”
“Understood,” Dalton replied, and threw the CB handset on the dash in obvious disgust. “What the hell is up with that, I wonder?”
Charlie shrugged and sat down on the edge of the seat behind Dalton to continue looking out the front window. Whatever it was, they’d be finding out soon enough.
The overgrown scrub and weed-choked houses on
either side faded away as they entered the zone of the western farm fields. Charlie tapped Cory on the shoulder and pointed out the right side of the bus.
“Got it,” Corey said and turned to study the landscape that passed by. Charlie did the same on the left, sliding further onto the bench of the seat for more comfort. The field wasn’t tilled, he noted, but everything was clear as far he could see. A half-mile or so north the creek snaked through the landscape and supported a few trees. Nothing moved on two or four legs between the road and the trees.
I suppose I could have taken their word for it, Charlie mused. But I haven’t lasted this long without being sure of my own safety.
The whine of the engine dropped a bit as Dalton slowed and downshifted. Given how many people used the highway as a walking path, roaring through the center of the settlement with the pedal to the floor was frowned upon. Charlie glanced forward. A few hundred yards ahead, the west gate was half-open. Satisfied, he turned back and continued looking to the left.
The wall blurred past, and he let out a faint sigh of relief once they were inside. Dalton slowed further as he caught sight of the crowd milling around on the road in front of the storage bins. “What in the world?” the big man wondered. The armor on the driver’s side of the bus prevented him from using that window to communicate, so Dalton hauled the bi-fold doors open and slowed the bus to a crawl. He navigated a winding course through the crowd as he headed toward the grain bins. Spotting someone he recognized, Dalton yelled out the door, “Frannie!”
The nurse straightened and turned toward the bus. Dalton braked to a complete stop and she hopped on board. “Hey, boys,” she chirped.
“Frannie, where’s the fire?”
Out of breath, she responded, “The military is here, Dalton.” She looked at Corey and Charlie. “Emergency meeting in the cafeteria in thirty minutes.”
“Great,” Dalton said. “Can you hop out and tell people to wake up and get out of the way? I’d rather not create any work for y’all in the clinic.”
Frannie laughed and hopped out of the bus. She strode in front of it, waving her arms and generally herding the crowd out of the way as though she were wrangling cattle. The onlookers finally got the message and cleared a path for the bus to get to the bin’s loading doors.
“Ain’t seen that girl so chipper in years,” Dalton observed. Charlie grunted and nodded.
“We’re not alone,” Corey blurted. “That’s what this means, doesn’t it?”
Charlie caught Dalton’s look in the rear view mirror and shrugged.
“Looks that way, kid,” Dalton said. “But keep your eyes open. Could just be a couple of guys in uniforms who’ve been scratching at survival. Doesn’t mean the cavalry’s coming to bail us out.”
“Right,” Corey said, his voice faint with disappointment. Charlie chuffed and reached across the aisle and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t need bailed out,” Charlie managed. “We stand on our own.”
Corey grinned. “I like the sound of that, boss.”
“Amen, boss,” Dalton echoed. “Let’s get this crap unloaded and see what all the fuss is about.”
He pulled to a stop in front of the smaller storage silo. Jim Piper, the official quartermaster and one of three council reps, was already standing outside. He’d either been watching the fuss around the cafeteria, or he’d seen them coming. Dalton gave him a wave and killed the engine.
By the time the three of them were hauling totes out of the bus, Piper had assembled a crew to bring the supplies inside the storage bin. From there, Jim’s people would sort the goods to determine the best place for them.
“Mostly dry goods,” Dalton informed the tall, balding man. He’d been in management at a services company before Z-Day, but he’d had the good luck to be stuck in Larry’s gun shop. He’d tagged along when the other man had bugged out. Jim had a quick, easy smile, and a booming laugh. Charlie supposed that he would have been a good man to work for, before. He’d heard grumbling from others that didn’t like his style of leadership on the council, which tended toward the introspective, but Charlie supposed it took all kinds. Besides, Jim was usually receptive to changes or suggestions to scouting routes. He was also one of the guys Charlie needed to convince to let him go back out so soon. Usually, they would delay repeat runs on the theory that the noise could lead groups back to the settlement, but the countryside had been almost barren this time out. Another quick run couldn’t hurt. I’ll talk to Miles first, Charlie thought. Then we’ll both see Jim together, about drawing some fuel out of stores.
“Glad you made it back safe, fellas,” Jim said, and shook each man’s hand in turn as they set down their loads. Jim’s crew stepped up into the bus as Jim waved them onward. “Little craziness today, so we’ll speed things up a bit. How did things go?”
“Just the way we like it, nice and quiet,” Dalton replied. “Charlie knows how to sniff ‘em out, that addition wasn’t touched. We’ve got a pretty extensive list of vehicles if you’re looking for any parts.”
“I’m always looking for parts,” Jim said and flashed a grin. “We’ll take it from here, you guys. Go get cleaned up or whatever, meeting’s going down around 5 or so.”
He gave them a nod of farewell, then moved onto the bus himself to assist with unloading. Charlie turned and looked toward the cafeteria. The crowd had eased a bit, and a figure waved an arm to draw his attention. Miles stood talking to an unfamiliar man in military camouflage.
Charlie raised a hand and waved in return. How about that, he thought. Frannie had been right. He paused, trying to decide whether to interrupt. Miles made the decision for him, breaking away from the military man and jogging over to Charlie and his crew. “Hey, guys. Everything go all right out there?”
“Smooth and easy,” Dalton confirmed. “Corey’s shaping up. He’ll be ready to lead his own crew before we know it.”
The youngest member of the crew laughed, though he looked pale at the prospect. Miles laughed along and slapped a hand on Corey’s shoulder. He glanced at Charlie.
“I don’t have a whole lot of time,” Miles said. “I need to get back to our guest and take him into a town meeting. Dalton, Corey, if you guys haven’t eaten it’d be great to see you there.”
Dalton’s forehead wrinkled, and he looked between Miles and Charlie. “I don’t follow,” the big man started, but Charlie raised a hand to quiet him. He gave Miles an intent look, indicated the scars on his hand, and then looked back up at Miles. With that, he didn’t have to say a word.
“Yeah,” Miles said. “Exactly. I don’t want them to get too curious about you, just yet. They haven’t come out and said exactly what the deal is, but they need me to help them do something.” He glanced back over at the Marine and waved. “They seem nice enough, but I’m not going to risk it, buddy. I know you sure as hell don’t want to spend the rest of your life getting poked and prodded.”
Charlie shrugged, then waved his hand from side to side. “And miss all this?” he rumbled.
“Laugh it up all you want,” Miles replied. “Just . . . Make yourself scarce for a bit, all right? Anyone asks, we’ll tell them you were feeling a little under the weather and hit the sack.”
Dalton nodded. Corey looked confused but he nodded, as well. The source of Charlie’s scars wasn’t a secret, per se, but it wasn’t something that he advertised.
I’m enough of a freak already with my voice, Charlie thought. Don’t need people pointing and whispering at the only immune guy in the camp. He glanced at Miles, then turned to Dalton. He paired his hands together, then spread them apart in a mimicry of breaking glass. This was something that called for more detail than his voice would permit.
“Some weirdness on the run, Miles,” Dalton said, immediately. “The houses were all locked up tight, and most of them still had their biters in residence. A few of them, though, were empty and had doors or windows broken from inside-out. Doesn’t make sense that a survivor would do something like
that, to us anyway.”
Miles frowned. “Doesn’t make sense that a zom would do it, either,” he pointed out. “It’s not like they have the strength, especially if they got stuck inside. Any other theories?”
Charlie shrugged, and Dalton said, “Not a one. But we lean more toward biters than survivors. And it was recent, too, maybe in the last few weeks.”
Miles scratched his head and sighed. “I’ll ask around, see if any of the other crews have run into anything similar. Unfortunately with all of this, it’s going to have to go on the back burner.”
Charlie nodded his understanding to Miles, then said, “Tomorrow. Need favor. Something else.”
Miles nodded. “I’ll find you,” he promised. “For now, get scarce.”
Chapter 13
Alex stirred the pot roast on his plate and tried not to make a face. Beef got old, especially when you ate it at least once a day for months on end.
If I start mooing, that’s it. I’m skipping beef.
Cole Ferguson, Junior — Twigs to most everyone under the age of 18 — set his tray down with a clatter across from Alex and gave him a gap-toothed grin. Alex acknowledged him with a nod, then resumed staring at his plate.
Most little kids drove Alex batty, but Twigs wasn’t too bad. Though he was short and scrawny, he was sharp and mature. It helped that Miss Val had moved him up into higher grade levels of work when he breezed through the first and second-grade assignments. Alex was a little behind in math, and sometimes his friend grasped the concepts faster than he could.
“Alex, did aliens come down and steal your brain or something?”
For a moment, Alex didn’t even recognize that Twigs had asked him a question. Realizing that the silence was in anticipation of his answer, he looked up from his plate and said, “Huh?”
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