by P. S. Power
Nothing happened in the woods, except Holsom trying to tease Carley and Jake about their “relationship”. Finally, after getting more than a little lewd Nate stepped in, speaking softly, warmly and with sincerity. Like he did most of the time.
Only now it sounded freaky, because what he said wasn't kind at all, even though it sounded that way.
“You're about fifteen seconds from death right now Derrick. You need to work and keep your mouth shut or one of these people might just offer to remove you as a useless eater. I've had several offers so far, and from a wide variety of individuals, so you may want to temper your words for a while. Just to be clear, Jake wasn't even one of them. You've made a lot of people angry.”
It didn't get the man to stop, he just didn't do it around Nate.
Dave kept staring at the guy, as if waiting for an excuse to off him. One of the offers had probably come from there, Jake thought. It felt nice to know that he had backup if it came to it. Tipper didn't like the man much either, probably for the same reason Carley didn't. They'd slept together. Several times if Derrick could be trusted. Including anal in a room full of people. The jerkwad made a point of describing that event at length, even in front of the kids. The woman didn't even defend herself from the allegation, so it most likely happened like the man said. That kind of ruined her whole lesbian shtick though, didn't it?
Only a lesbo when old Jake came around, was it? He didn't say anything, but he frowned at her a few times and shook his head. It really wasn't fair.
None of this was fair.
After all, he really tried to be nice and help everyone and Holsom just sat around causing problems and being serviced like a king. It made him think a lot less of all the women in their group. Yeah, Tipper had his back in a fight, maybe, but this kind of showed how little she really thought of him as something other than another gun, didn't it?
Well, screw it. He'd probably die soon anyway and then it wouldn't matter. Right now they had to do wood before dinner. Jake just tried to focus on that and worked faster.
The last two hours after they got the cart back half full of long, mainly straight logs about eight foot long and from six to twelve inches around, got spent taking turns in the pit. Jake just worked quietly, everyone else talking to one another happily enough, if softly.
He didn't let Tipper sit near him at dinner, making a point of moving in by Dave, who just nodded at him. Thirteen or not, the kid had heard what was said and knew what it meant too. Carley took his other side, giving him space from Molly at least. She'd worked for two days in a row, a record for the chubby girl. Hard labor too.
Being fair, Jake realized, she was after hefty, not Back Before thick. Six months before she would have looked fine at her current weight, no worse than average at all. She even looked kind of cute, if you could excuse the cow eyed looks she kept giving everyone. It occurred to Jake the girl, about nineteen or so, might not just be depressed. She may also simply have not been that bright. Molly didn't talk a lot, and when she did, it mainly sounded whiny, not dumb. That could have made it harder to tell. Well, if she could learn to work and not get him killed, it didn't matter. A lot of smart people were dead now, because they'd tried to out-think brute force and failed. Some of the best survivors had just run and hid early on, hardly thinking at all.
He just went to bed without talking to anyone after that. No light to read by again and they all needed to move faster in the morning the next day. Tipper tried to talk to him, looking embarrassed, but he just moved past her and went into the bedroom. No one talked there if they could help it. She had a place in a different room, so there'd be no whispers at him in the dark. Maybe she could find comfort sleeping with Holsom again? He'd sounded favorable about the experience earlier. Or one of the other guys. Or girls. Whatever.
The night went almost without interruption. Carley whimpered a little, but didn't scream and a guy on the other side of the room bellowed angrily, once, then gasped and shut up. Hopefully nothing heard him. A few cries came from other rooms, some actual weeping too, mainly women. They cried a lot as a group. One of their biggest flaws. Not all of them and not all the time, thankfully. The men probably did too, but kept it quiet, that being a long held man tradition. Suffer in silence. Well, that would work. As long as they didn't call the dead down on them, Jake would just deal.
He always did.
Chapter Three
Jake felt like crap the next day. Depressed.
Mainly because of Tipper and her lying, which, now that he knew for certain what had been going on, hurt a lot more than Molly's simple refusal because he “wasn't her type”. That was bitchy too, but not a lie at least. When it came to it, that was the real issue, he decided. That she'd lied to him about it. They were supposed to be on the same side right? Friends? Trust each other and all that kind of thing. Back each other up if they needed it. Not lie and treat him like crap while going off and helping the enemy. Or having sex with them.
It made him wonder if she'd been fucking the zombies too.
He headed out at first light, to find Jose already getting the cart around and setting out buckets to collect the beets. Early still, the man smiled at him when he walked up pulling on gloves, ready to work. Pointing without speaking, each row got a container. Twenty of them. Hence the needed twenty people. There was movement in the house and people looking out the back door, but no one bothered to come out yet. They needed to get to things before breakfast though, since they'd want the cart for wood later. Finally Jake walked into the living room.
“Beet time. Everyone out. Everyone except the breakfast crew. If you aren't working on something else, move. Please.” He sounded pissed, then he kind of felt that way. It wasn't about the beets, or anything else, just his feeling that there wasn't a reason to do anything for these people. They rarely did much for him after all.
Almost no one moved. Not even Holsom.
What the hell? Jake stared for a second. Fine.
“Alright, raise your hands if you don't want to bother collecting food. I'll just run and tell Lois and Mary who doesn't eat here anymore. It will save them work, so I'm sure they'll be glad to hear it. We just need to get a head count...” He looked around but no one raised their hands.
“OK, then come on. We have a deadline.”
People still dragged themselves out, but they got nearly thirty people all told. That worked for today. When the real harvest season came this kind of response just wouldn't cut it. What, did they think the food would magic itself into the glass canning jars or dry itself in the wind? Maybe they thought that they'd all just run down to the corner store or grab a pizza? He worked with a will, trying to go as fast as his beaten body would let him. Not quick, but faster than most worked, except Jose, who fairly flew through the row he'd picked. Dug really. The small man had been out getting wood each day too and had to be at least as sore. Jake tried to go faster, filling his bucket and carrying it to the cart while about half the people just stood, not certain what to do.
“You, the ones standing, we need to speed this up. Go to the first ten rows and take over for the person working it for the second half. Think speed now. Hurry.”
Things did get faster then and the ones getting a break didn't lounge after Nate started helping Burt fill a bucket too. That got everyone going and made the whole thing easier. No one helped him, he noticed, but then he'd kind of been snapping at them already that day, so who'd want to?
They ate their simple breakfast, turnips, boiled, mashed and dolloped on top of oatmeal. Not an inspired combination to be sure. It beat starving though and almost no one grumbled too much. No one close enough for Jake to hear. Tipper kept looking at him and swallowing even when not taking a bite. Whatever that meant. Probably that she got he felt a little worked up over everything. That shouldn't take a rocket scientist, he wasn't hiding the fact at all. When he looked at her at all, which wasn't frequently, he glared.
Holsom watched the glances and grinned, but didn't say anyth
ing. That was good, because he probably wouldn't have survived the meal if he had.
Carley led them out to the woods bravely enough, but the whole day took longer, because they had to fight deeper into the brush and cut more trees down instead of just trimming stuff on the ground. Taking the trees down took a bit of practice and they didn't always go where they were supposed to yet. That meant being ready to dodge out of the way, which was hard since his right leg still hurt. Worse, the gas was running out. They were halfway through what they had left already, the red plastic can with them representing about a third of their whole supply. They had enough of the engine oil, but not the actual fuel. That meant they might have to start taking trees with axes soon, however that worked. It sounded like great fun, but would take a whole lot longer, Jake guessed.
They got nearly half of the wood they should have, everyone slowing down due to fatigue already. Sammi kept trying to get everyone to speed up, but people felt too tired to do it for long. Too little food with too much work. Still, it had to be done, so he pushed himself, trying to be a good example. Carley and Nate pulled out the stops too.
“We need some fresh people on this soon.” Carley said as they came in on the last trip of the day. “Everyone is just too far gone to keep this up right now. I know some of the homebodies don't want to go into the woods...”
Nate grunted, pulling the straight steel bar next to Jake.
“But they're going to have to go out sometime. People are kind of losing morale, which we can't afford right now. The work only gets harder from here on out, until winter sets in. We need to get people pulling together and make life worthwhile again. Any ideas?”
Actually Jake had two, the first one he didn't say, it being that maybe some of the women could think about putting out for someone other than Holsom to boost morale. They'd just act all insulted if he said it and the jerk would gloat. Not worth it just to vent. Still, he'd let them know that if they weren't pulling their weight they could find themselves beheaded and buried down the street. Subtly though. Not sleeping with him wasn't a crime.
Just freaking annoying.
Compounded by lies and the fact that they all thought that lazy piece of trash Derrick was the cat's meow. Sure the guy was good looking enough, but no better than Carl or a couple of the others. Maybe not even, really. How the guy managed like he had was a mystery.
The other, more “group friendly” thing was a sing along. They'd have to hold it during the day, in the cellar to keep the sound down, and with some of the cleaners out as guards, of course, but that could help a little maybe. Possibly. They could make it into a little party of sorts. As soon as he mentioned it everyone gave him funny looks.
“Bad idea? Well, it was just a thought.”
Their leader shook his brown haired head and grinned.
“No, good idea, everyone's just shocked that you'd be the one suggesting singing, that's all. The cellar idea is a good one too. We need to clean it out to get ready for harvest anyway, so this will give people some incentive.”
Incentive? How about not dying as an incentive? Not that Jake intended to kill everyone that felt a little lazy now and then, not really. Pointing out that they'd die without getting the work done might just help. He didn't, just pulling instead. At least he didn't have Tipper next to him trying to talk about things to make herself feel better. He did have Holsom on the other side of him, half-assing his part of the work like usual. The man's hands barely touched the bar in front of him and he basically just strolled the whole time. When the jerk took a hand off to scratch his face the whole thing kept moving at the same speed even.
Not for the first time that day Jake wondered if the man had really earned his oatmeal.
They all agreed that they needed a fresh team for a bit, so Nate asked around for some people, getting almost no volunteers. Vickie managed to get some interest at least, not being afraid of a little hard work or zombies, which got her crew too, so they'd have some shooters. A few of the men that were normally too scared to walk fifty feet from the house managed to find their balls long enough to agree to go when Vickie asked the room. She was probably sleeping with them all or something. Or not. Maybe they just wanted to, or possibly the guys just realized that they couldn't hide and survive forever off of other people's efforts.
Probably the sex thing though. Vickie was hot.
It took brow beating and glaring to work up ten people to take over the next day's work, which gave Jake a full day off. That meant he could take off into town and look for those wood stoves and maybe some supplies that could be made to work for things. Quietly he mentioned it to Burt, who gave him a funny look and shook his head.
“You'll need the cart for that, and until the wood is done we can't afford to take it out of use. We can make do with fire places and cold water if we have to, but without the fuel, we die. I'd make a second cart, but I don't have any way of doing that yet. Not in metal. I'll work on it, but for now, well it's all we can do.”
A good point, and one that he hadn't thought about overly. Well, maybe he could just help Jose or something like that. No one would care overly what he did, as long as he did his part. It just... felt off. Wrong. Like something was missing. As if he had some piece of himself that just wasn't there and no one could be bothered to help him find it, or fill that void.
In other words, his life was still fucked.
His parents had blamed everything on him being lazy and claimed that if he just did the work, everything would be alright. They'd always worked hard, but what did that get them in the end? A bullet to the brain. Many of them. From his father's own gun. Maybe everyone else had it right and he should just relax and not care?
Jake knew that didn't work, not in this new world, where death waited for them every day. Being a slacker wouldn't save him, or anyone else. Being depressed wouldn't help either. He needed to snap the hell out of it and get back to work. Slowing down just meant he'd fail. So he needed to find a way to make a cart? Or find one capable of carrying a wood stove or two. An idea occurred to him and he smiled. Right.
“Shopping carts.” He said out loud. It would suck, but no one complained at the store if you took one now. If there were any left...
That got a chuckle from Burt, “Alright then. Who's on your team?”
Who? Probably no one. He'd need help and backup, that was clear, but who'd be willing to go with him? It wasn't a cleaning job and no one really liked him that much. He just shrugged. Tipper had kind of shown that really, hadn't she? In the end, Jake was alone. It had always been that way.
Even when he'd thought he wasn't. Back with her. Before she dumped all over him too. He made himself think the name. Rachel. It didn't make him feel any better.
“No problem, I can manage on my own...” Always alone. That was the rule, wasn't it?
No one said anything about it and the next morning when he set out after breakfast, no one volunteered to come with him either. He walked resolutely down the front steps, knowing that it had to be the worst plan he'd had so far, going out alone. Feet crunched on the stone walkway as he headed out, bits of sand and pebbles making the noise. That turned to a softer sound as he hit the road a few minutes later. Watching carefully he went toward town, specifically the city center, hoping to find a cart or two at the IGA. With his luck he'd get the one with the twisty wheel that would always pull to the left. He walked for the first four hours, going slowly even though it wasn't that far. Feet tired and sore as he saw the shopping center ahead. Jake knew that there wouldn't be anything inside, but went in anyway.
The shelves were bare, of course, but he did find a cart, seven of them in fact. Some lying on their sides, a few on top of shelves for some reason and a single cart, all the way at the back in the area of the store for employees only. All broken in some way, except that one. It had rotten fruit in it, which had kept anyone from bothering. It reeked. Smiling Jake had to stifle a cheer. About time something went his way. Other than fights. A few of those had or
he wouldn't be here now.
Nothing else though.
Jake started working and tried to remember what houses they'd cleared had what he was looking for. That and try to get the seeds from the reeking soft puddles of molding fruit. They were as precious as gold now, if you had half a brain. More if you had a whole one. You couldn't eat gold and burying it wouldn't do more than make extra work. Digging sucked. Much less digging with seeds.
It was a mess, but he got a few hundred seeds out in all, apple and pear. He left the oranges, just because he didn't think that they'd be able to grow them. Maybe not even in a greenhouse. They'd talked about building something like that, but no one had acted on it yet. Not enough glass. Burt said they just needed something clear, plastic tarps might work. It was something to look for and on his little mental checklist.
Right now he needed large pieces of metal and barrels if he could find them. He couldn't get them that day, but the shelves were all steel, weren't they? The backing things they hung on too. Not perfect, but eventually when they needed metal to work with on the forge it would be a good place to look. No barrels in the back, or rather, there were, a few of them, but they were all plastic. Good for holding water or oil. In fact, one of them was half full. Some kind of cooking oil? It smelled right. That left him torn. Nearly in half for a second. He could, maybe, rig another cart to carry the oil, using two wheels that were sitting on a half broken basket, but that would make the whole thing a lot heavier if he could manage to find a wood stove, those things were all metal he knew.
