by Siara Brandt
He nodded his head towards the bodies now hanging limply from the tree. “Tate won’t be very happy about that.”
Makenzie shrugged. “There isn’t much he can do about it now.”
Makenzie set the shovel down and brushed her hands off. “Have you been here since the beginning?” she asked Laith.
“Pretty much. Tate is my cousin,” he answered.
Makenzie said the first thing that came to her mind. “Really. You don’t seem like family.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, but she had a lot of questions and she needed answers. Laith seemed like the only one who could give them to her.
“It doesn’t seem very safe here,” she said.
“You’re right,” Laith agreed with her. “It isn’t the safest place. But Tate will never move. This has always been his family home and- ” Laith looked around the yard. “Moving would be a big undertaking. He wouldn’t leave anything behind.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a very big food supply here,” Makenzie said. “Unless I’m missing something.”
Overly-salted beef jerky and a can of cold beans washed down with beer hadn’t been the most appetizing meal last night, even though Tate had reminded them several times about how generous he considered himself. When he wasn’t openly leering.
“No, there isn’t much food,” Laith admitted. “They spend a lot of time foraging.”
That was probably why she had heard a four wheeler leave early that morning. They were on a foraging expedition.
Laith wasn’t sure how much he should say. Mule and Tate had been picking the entire area clean on a regular basis. If they could take something, that’s what they did. It didn’t matter if it was something they needed or not. They took things because they could take them and there was no one to stop them. Sometimes, he suspected, they took things from people who weren’t zombies. He didn’t have any proof of that. He didn’t want the girls to worry, but then hiding the truth from them didn’t seem right either. The truth was that Tate and Mule had been thieves even before everything had fallen apart.
“I tried to keep chickens,” Laith said to change the subject. “But the zombies got into them and killed them all. Tate kept some hogs for a while, but the same thing happened. And now they seem to be getting hungrier- “ His voice trailed off as he looked at the horses confined in the corral. He left the rest of his thought unspoken. Tate had stolen the horses, too. A couple of weeks ago.
Makenzie and Daniela looked at the horses, too. Makenzie frowned, thinking the three horses looked on the thin side.
“You have a lot of vehicles here,” Makenzie said as she continued to look around.
“Tate has always liked cars. He collects them.”
“He must collect four wheelers, too,” Makenzie murmured half to herself. “There are so many vehicles.”
It was true. There were at least two dozen cars and trucks parked in haphazard groups at the perimeters of the yard.
Makenzie looked at Laith. “Do you think he would let us have one of them?”
“You’re not planning on staying?”
“Not permanently. We had other plans.”
It was pretty clear to Laith why anyone would want to leave this place. Staying here had not been one of his better ideas. Laith had thought about leaving himself. But with the girls here right now, he didn’t think that was such a good idea. Family or not, he was suspicious about Mule and Tate‘s motives towards the girls.
“I don’t know about Tate giving you one of the cars. He’s pretty- uh, attached to his possessions. He likes to hold onto things.”
“You mean he’s like a hoarder?” Makenzie asked.
“Yeah, something like that,” Laith answered.
Makenzie asked another question about the cars.
“No,” Laith answered her. “Most of them don’t run. But only because they have no gas. They’ve siphoned most of the gas out for the four wheelers. They’re the only things that can get through the woods.”
Makenzie had turned and she was looking down into the deep ravine on the west side of the trailer.
“Does that stop them?” she asked.
“So far it has,” Laith replied. “But it might just be luck that has kept most of them out of there. When they do get trapped down there, they don’t seem to be able to climb back out again. The few that do manage to get trapped,” he paused. “Tate and Mule use them for target practice.”
A faint breeze suddenly lifted out of the ravine, causing Makenzie and Daniela to cover the lower halves of their faces with their hands.
Laith frowned and looked a little sheepish. “They don’t bother to clean the bodies out when they do shoot them.”
“Are you hungry?” Laith suddenly asked, wanting to change the subject. “The pond’s stocked. I can catch a fish and cook it for lunch. How does catfish sound?”
The pond was in back of the house. Apparently it supplied them with fresh fish. That did sound pretty good to both girls.
“You can come along and fish with me if you like,” Laith said. “We have extra poles.”
“I’ll go,” Daniela said.
But Makenzie sat down in one of the lawn chairs in the yard by herself. At the moment she wanted to concentrate on the best plan for the future and she didn’t want to be distracted by anything else.
Makenzie was still contemplating their options as she watched Daniela and Laith fishing together by the pond. And later, after lunch, she saw them standing side by side petting the horses.
Daniela seemed to be otherwise occupied at present, and as calm as Makenzie had ever seen her. Makenzie, however, felt anything but calm. She felt just like a fly who had just flown into a spider’s web.
“They’re going to have to start paying for our protection. You know what I’m talking about.”
Mule knew exactly what Tate meant. And he agreed wholeheartedly.
Tate zipped up his pants and turned back around.
“I’m just saying, they’re going to be eating up food, too. Everyone’s got to contribute something.”
Mule and Tate were brothers. They fought, sometimes brutally, with each other, but they had always been clannish. Now it was even clearer to them that it was them against the rest of the world. Paranoia had always been part of their psychological makeup. With no laws, and no restraints on their baser instincts, it hadn’t taken long for the thin veneer of civilization to wear off. They had never been self-disciplined, and they hadn’t been particularly ambitious in life, except when it came to their immediate needs or what they could take from other people, especially the rich bastards that they had always envied, the ones that had had everything handed to them in life. But now the playing field had been leveled. Now, with the old rules gone, anything went. And there was no one to tell them what they could or couldn’t do.
With no one to stop them, their first and foremost creed had become to take what they wanted when they could get it. As long as there was not too much resistance or risk to themselves. In that regard, this new world suited them fine because they had always thought about their own needs first. The concept of helping others for the sake of being charitable would never have occurred to them. Then or now. They were brutal and selfish to begin with, but now, since there were no consequences for bad behavior, they were like beasts without a conscience set free from the cage of civilization. They didn’t see anything wrong with letting their darker side rule. They saw it as a smart survival tactic. And they considered themselves survivors first and foremost.
“I’ve been hankering for some red meat,” Mule said as he slapped a low-hanging cedar branch out of his way. “A good thick deer steak sounds pretty good right now.”
“Well, been’s nobody is hunting anymore, there seem to be plenty of deer in the woods. Let’s go get one. Those girls ought to be able to butcher a deer.”
Butchering a deer was a lot of work. Hunting was fine as a sport, but butchering the animal afterwards was something else entirely, something they av
oided whenever possible. That’s when Laith came in handy,
Mule looked doubtful. “You mean city girls actually butchering an animal?”
“They can learn, can’t they? Same as everyone else. If they want to eat, they’ll learn. ”
They came upon a small shed with open spaces between the unpainted boards. There were three zombies trapped inside.
“When are you going to get rid of them?” Mule asked, making a face. They stunk. It was pretty bad if you stood downwind, and from what he could tell, it was getting worse.
“Why would I want to do that? This is too much fun.” Tate chuckled as he picked up a stick and jabbed it through the boards, taunting the zombies inside the shed.
There were two male zombies and one female. They staggered around and bumped into the walls and each other. When they saw Tate, their snarls and growls grew louder. Apparently they were capable of remembering on some level.
Mule peered carefully through the boards, watching one of the zombies in fascination. “What do you know, Tate. You were right. Zombies do crap where they’re standing and then they walk right through it when it falls out. I don’t know what smells worse, them or their shit.”
Mule backed up a few steps while Tate laughed again. “They look just like bumper cars,” Tate said. His face contorted with demonical concentration as he jabbed sharply at the female zombie. He missed and cursed under his breath, waiting till she came close again.
Tate had been brutal to his wife during the half dozen years of their marriage. He thought that any human being within his reach was subject to his authority, but that applied even more to a wife. He had tried to put her in her place during their years of wedded hell, but she had never become exactly what he wanted. To Tate, keeping her locked up now was the ultimate control that he had never been able to completely achieve during their marriage. One of his favorite pastimes was taunting her now. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had been a little afraid of her when she was alive. This was the ultimate payback.
He poked at her a few more times and laughed as if he found it immensely entertaining. His voice got high pitched as it always did when he got excited. And tormenting something, or someone, always excited Tate. Cats and dogs in particular, had suffered at his hands over the years. Ever since he was little. He’d learned that from his father.
He thrust again, harder this time, and drew blood. He stabbed a final time with the stick and it went through his wife’s eye and stayed there. She backed up and stumbled around with the stick still poking out of her eye.
“An eye for an eye,” Tate muttered, not remembering where he had heard the quote, but it seemed to fit the situation.
“You can be a mean bastard, you know that?” Mule let his breath out in a short laugh.
“That’s me,” Tate agreed, as if it was a complement. “I’m one mean son of a bitch.”
“Let’s go get us a deer,” Tate finally said. “Then when we get back home, we’ll lay the law down to those women.”
Tate eyed his wife one last time. “It’s been a while since I had someone take care of my needs. But even if I am desperate,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s no good for that any more. Not with that stick poking out of her eye.”
Mule grimaced. Apparently the thought didn’t appeal to him, either.
An hour later, after tramping through the woods alongside a creek, they still hadn’t found a deer.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tate asked irritably as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re having a hard time keeping up with me today.” He blamed Mule for his inability to get a deer.
“I don’t know,” Mule mumbled. “I don’t feel right. I’m thirsty as hell.”
Mule got down on his knees and lapped some water out of the shallow creek.
“That water doesn’t look too clean,” Tate commented with a curl of his tobacco-stained upper lip. “There could be anything in it. Aren’t you supposed to boil it or something?”
Mule got to his feet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Nothing wrong with it,” he assured Tate. “Tastes fine to me. I’ve always drunk out of the creek and nothing has happened to me yet.”
Tate shrugged and scanned the woods. “I don’t see any deer sign up this way either. Let’s get back. I’ve got an interesting night planned.” He rubbed his crotch. “And I’m getting all worked up just thinking about it.”
Neither one of the men could see around the bend. Not the deer sign they’d missed or the zombie upstream who was also lapping water out of the creek. He was lying halfway in the creek with the water swirling around his bloody, putrid sores before it made its way around the rocks and flowed unimpeded downstream.
Chapter 15
Laith was sitting on the porch reading a book when he heard the four wheeler returning. He looked up as Mule and Tate parked the four-wheeler and walked across the yard.
Laith closed his book. “I think we need to do something about the horses.” He had said the same thing to Tate several times before.
Tate didn’t even slow down on his way to the trailer. “They’re mine to worry about,” he growled impatiently.
“They’re only yours because you stole them,” Laith called after him. “Why don’t you let them go?” No one else would be able to get away with talking to Tate like that, but they were family. Laith pressed the issue. “There isn’t enough hay or grain to feed them through the winter, let alone the next couple of months.”
“I told you, they’re mine,” Tate repeated. “Where are those girls?”
“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Laith knew from experience that it didn’t take much to get Tate riled up. He was definitely riled up now.
Laith looked at Mule who explained Tate’s mood. “We saw some people at the old Bishop place. We were planning on cleaning that place out today. We always figured that old man Bishop had plenty stored there.”
“There are regular people there?” Laith asked, surprised, hopeful.
“Yeah, and I’ll bet they’re the ones who took our guns.”
“They had every right to take those things, the same as you did,” Laith told his cousin when he came back into the yard.
“Those guns were mine,” Tate said darkly. “That house was mine.”
Tate got more than a little paranoid when it came to people taking what he considered his property. “Winter’s coming,” he said. “We need all the food we can get our hands on. And if we let them stay, they’ll start stripping everything clean in the area. I wonder what else they think they are going to try and take,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going to have to make sure they know they’re not welcome here.”
Tate looked around irritably, “Where the hell are those girls?”
And then Tate’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell- ” His eyes bulged as he stared at the zombies hanging from the oak tree. And then he turned slowly, with rage distorting his features.
They kept the yard clear of any staggers. But the fact that they showed up regularly meant that they needed to do something about them before the problem escalated. They could begin to arrive in force at any time, maybe in a horde, so everyone was working on reinforcing every weak, or potentially weak, area.
“If we had a fence up, it would be another barrier,” Gabe said. “At least I’d feel safer. Personally, the more barriers between me and them, the better I feel.”
“Yeah, though I have seen them take a fence down if there are enough of them,” Grey told the other men. “But I agree. It is something we should definitely consider. If we have the materials, it couldn’t hurt. What is this place your Dad mentioned in his letter?”
“It was an abandoned army reserve building. It was turned into a factory about twenty years ago. It’s made out of brick and surrounded by high fences topped with coiled razor wire.”
“Sounds like it could be a secure place,” Grey commented as he swung his hammer and drove a nail into place. “We’re safe enough here. For now. But I t
hink we should consider all our options. We have food for a while. And weapons. And as long as we boil the water from the well, we’re good there. We have been able to handle the staggers that show up so far. If we make any kind of a move, I want to think through every detail first.
“I think it would also be a good idea to come up with a set of rules,” Grey went on. “So everyone knows what is expected of them. If we delegate responsibility, that’s going to give everyone a sense of structure and stability. That goes as long way in making people feel safe.”
Gabe and Jake both nodded in agreement.
“All right. Patch, Gun, let’s go over the moves you already know. And then I’ll teach you some new ones.” Grey looked around at the other people gathered in the family room.
“Everyone. You’re going to be practicing these moves, so pay attention. This might just save your life, or the life of someone you care about, sometime in the future.” Without it having been a conscious effort, Grey’s gaze flickered over to Hanna. He frowned and dragged his gaze away.
“Of course, you don’t ever want to get this close to a stagger,” he went on. “But you might have to fight off someone who wants to take your food away from you. Or from someone else.”
Grey knew that what Hanna knew about self-defense she had learned from Patch. She needed to know a lot more. Even the younger kids needed to be a part of this so that they kept themselves occupied and felt empowered. They were living in a dangerous world. They needed to feel protected, but they also needed to feel like equal parts of the group. It was important to keep their minds focused on something positive. They’d all been through a lot already.
Stefan raised his hand. “What if someone is bigger than me?”
“Practice and you can protect yourself against someone who is bigger,” Grey answered him. After a few meals, Grey thought to himself. The boy was like a walking skeleton.
“You mean if Hanna got really good at this, she could take you out?” Patch asked Grey.
