Dave’s eyes narrowed. “So what are you going to do once you have control of your father’s new empire?”
Calvin looked at Dave and grinned. “Simple. Burn it to the ground.”
* * *
“We’re going to the college,” Calvin said. “Former UMKC. That’s where the St. Louis Guard had set up shop. Nice location, away from downtown and enclosed by five-story walls on all four sides. I’m going to put you up in a room there and contact you when I’m ready.”
Calvin drove on, navigating the truck around the husks of rusting cars, downed utility poles and piles of trash and other debris of varying size. Minutes later, they approached a small group of carriers dragging themselves along the road.
“Fucking walkers,” Calvin mumbled. His eyes squinted as he stared them down. “Filthy bastards.”
He slammed the pedal to the floor, the engine roaring. The carriers turned. Catching sight of the truck they ran toward it, their mouths open wide, the sound of their shrieks drowned out by the grinding engine.
The truck plowed into the first member of the group. It disappeared beneath the truck. Another slipped under the driver’s side tire, creating a carrier speed bump.
The final carrier narrowly escaped the truck’s grill. It fell to the ground as the truck passed it by. Then it stood and ran after them like a dog chasing a car.
Calvin slammed on the brakes and grabbed his pistol, waiting for the carrier to catch up. It ran alongside the truck, scratching at the driver’s side door. Rolling the window down, Calvin reached out and fired three shots, dropping the carrier in its tracks.
“Hot damn!” Calvin cheered, gunning the engine. “That shit never gets old.”
Dave produced a weak smile and said nothing.
Eventually they left downtown behind them as Calvin headed south through more of the ruined city. Finally he brought the truck to a halt in front of a large, imposing red brick and white siding building.
“This, my new friend,” Calvin said over the truck’s idling engine, “is where the fun begins.”
* * *
After having been escorted to his dorm room turned prison cell by Rand, Dave fell asleep, exhausted.
He dreamed as he slept. Dreams of Annette and their baby. Peterson’s brains exploding from the top of his head. Sandy, his long-dead wife, blood pouring from her neck after being shot by two thugs, her eyes wide with fear as she lay dying.
And he dreamed of fire. Fire burning everything in sight.
Then he was awake, dragged out of his bed and yanked to his feet. The dark room revealed nothing to him until a match flared. Two figures stood before him, the flickering light unable to chase away the shadows surrounding their faces.
“What the…?”
A fist smashed into Dave’s nose. White-hot pain flared throughout his entire face, already tender with the beating he’d taken in the truck. The searing pain brought Dave to his knees. He collapsed to the floor.
“Get him up,” said a man’s voice. Dave felt himself being lifted to his feet, his arms pinned behind his back. The man standing before him lit a candle, placing it on a desk in the room, illuminating the space with a flickering, dim glow.
“I ask the questions,” the man said. “You got that?”
Dave didn’t answer. He recognized the voice.
Rand.
“That was a question,” Rand said. “Now you answer.”
Dave nodded.
“Out loud.”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dave remained silent.
Rand drove a fist into Dave’s stomach, bringing him to his knees. Nausea swept over him, threatening to make him vomit.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you, Porter.”
“Yes, sir,” Dave croaked.
“Much better. I think we’re really getting somewhere now. You remember me, right?”
“Yeah- …yes, sir.” Blood trickled out of Dave’s nostrils, dripping off his chin and onto the floor.
“Now that we understand each other, let’s continue. First question: what did Calvin say to you in the truck?”
“He wanted to sell me some swampland in Florida.”
Lightning fast, Rand dropped Dave to the floor with another punch to the stomach. This time he did vomit. The room spun as the man holding his arms behind him struggled to keep Dave steady.
“You seem to be having some trouble understanding me, so I’ll repeat the question. What did Calvin say to you in the truck?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Answer the question.”
“This and that,” Dave replied. “Just chitchat.”
“Do you enjoy being punched in the stomach?” Rand asked.
“Not particularly.”
“Then answer my question.”
Dave figured he could tell the truth and be killed by Calvin or he could lie and be killed by his crony.
Something told him he should lie. “He told me I’d be put to work once I got here and if I refused I’d be killed.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“He bragged about his dad’s so-called new world order. Sounded like a pyramid scheme to me.”
“You’re not funny. Next time I hit you it’ll be your balls.”
“Seriously, that’s all we talked about. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Rand’s knee met Dave’s groin, hard. The pain coated him like a cold blanket, the nausea overwhelming. He doubled over, vomiting again.
“Stand him back up,” Rand commanded. The man holding Dave yanked him back to his feet again. Rand leaned in close. “The word’s out on Calvin, my friend. We’re on to him. We know he’s planning something.”
Dave remained silent.
“The way I look at it, there are two ways this will play out. Option one, you tell us what Calvin’s planning and we’ll let you live. Option two, Tommy back there cuts your throat.” Rand moved in close to Dave’s face, his breath hot and stale. “Choose wisely.”
Dave remembered what Calvin had said to him in the truck. He had choices, he just didn’t like them. In the end, it probably didn’t matter much anyway. Might as well get it over with.
“You do what you gotta do,” Dave said.
“Tommy, open him up.”
As the knife blade touched his throat, Dave closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mourning, Trish walked along the railroad track. She mourned for her parents, for Tim, for the world. And now, for Ed. Losing him had always been a possibility, but now that it had almost certainly happened the reality of it was too much to bear.
His absence left a massive hole in their group. It now felt shattered, broken and incomplete, like a hand missing its thumb. As each hour passed and the reality of Ed’s disappearance solidified, the numbness and surreality of it all only increased.
She did her best to cope. So did the boys. She could feel their pain as keenly as she could feel her own, even if they didn’t mention it. She knew they’d have to talk about it eventually, but for now they walked. The talking would come soon enough.
The hours piled up, turning quickly into a day. As the evening approached, the conversation remained sparse, with Max presenting his theory of what had caused the train to derail days earlier. Trish listened with a healthy degree of skepticism. She hadn’t noticed the cars piled up near the train’s overturned engine, but she also hadn’t been looking. Although she might not have been convinced by Max, what she really didn’t want to admit was how much the idea of intelligent carriers frightened her.
As she walked, Trish became increasingly more puzzled by the lack of the infected. They’d swarmed the train after the crash and they’d most definitely taken up residence in the warehouse where Ryder had taken her. However, along the railroad tracks, as they cut across empty farmland and equally empty woods, the infected seemed not to exist at all.
“Seems odd that we’ve seen no carriers,�
�� she said.
Max gave her a confused look before shrugging. “I noticed that too.”
“They used to be everywhere.”
“How long were you in St. Louis?”
“About a year.”
“Well, things have been changing while you were there. Rose and I weren’t there as long as you guys were, but even before we went behind the fence we noticed a decline in their numbers.”
“Between the big cities it seems to be mostly empty,” Rose added.
“Where are all the survivors then?” Trish asked. “Shouldn’t we be seeing them? We haven’t seen anybody.”
Max sighed. “Maybe there just aren’t that many survivors left.”
Trish didn’t reply.
They continued walking in silence for some time. Then Jeremy pointed toward something lying across the tracks. “What’s that?” he asked.
Trish cupped her hand above her eyes, peering ahead. “Is that a body?”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “Let me go check it-”
A scream pierced the air, followed by a gunshot.
* * *
Zach saw the body on the track just before his brother. He knew right away something wasn’t right. Alarms went off in his head as he recalled the conversation he’d had with Max about the train wreck.
Zach used to see bodies all the time when they were on the road with their dad, but with all the bodies rotted away now, this one seemed out of place. As if it’d been placed there. He quickly retrieved his father’s pistol from his pocket, just in case.
Smart carriers might be capable of anything.
The shrill and piercing screech of the carrier sent a shock through his body. At the edge of his vision he caught movement from the trees. The carrier charged, teeth bared, its face and body nearly black from years of accumulated filth.
Zach raised the pistol and pulled the trigger, just like his dad had taught him. He watched the runner drop to the ground, the shrieking abruptly ceased.
He stood, numb, as his brain struggled to catch up with his muscles. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he’d killed their attacker. Killed it with a single shot to the head; a shot he’d meant to place in the thing’s chest before aiming too high.
“Zach!” he heard Trish call out. She seemed far away, as if underwater. She repeated his name, louder this time. He glanced in her direction. “Come! Now!”
He followed.
* * *
They set up camp before nightfall, building a small fire inside the woods and away from the tracks. They boiled stream water and heated several cans of pork ’n beans over the flames.
Trish sat on the ground beside the boys, her pistol in her lap. “Just what the hell was that back there?”
Max took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You already know what I think. You just don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that I don’t believe, I’m just not convinced.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No.”
“Then what would you call that back there? You think that deer carcass just put itself on the tracks right before we walked up on it? Pretty coincidental, wouldn’t you say?”
“Could be. It’s still not proof.”
“Maybe not, but it sure smells fishy. Felt like a trap to me.”
Trish bit her lip. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Me neither, but if that’s what we’re dealing with now then we need to come to terms with it. If it wasn’t for Zach, we might not even be having this conversation.”
Trish reached over and tousled the boy’s hair. “Point taken. We’ll keep our eyes open, just in case.”
She smiled at Zach. “You did good.”
“Better than good,” Max added.
Zach smiled.
“Let’s get this water boiled,” Trish continued. “I’ll take first watch. This could turn out to be a long night.”
Chapter Thirty
“Bravo,” a voice called out in the darkened room.
Dave recognized the voice immediately.
Calvin.
Light clapping followed. “Good show, Porter. Tommy, stand down.”
“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied, removing the blade from Dave’s throat.
“Now let him go.”
As Tommy released Dave’s arms, he fell to his knees. His head swam and his testicles throbbed.
“Congratulations,” Calvin said, a wide smile on his face. “You passed.”
“Passed what?” Dave asked.
“The test.”
“What test?”
“Look, Porter, I have to be sure about people. I can’t have you breaking under pressure and blabbing. I need to know you’re loyal. That you’re able to keep your fucking mouth shut when it’s supposed to stay shut.”
“So you kick the shit out of me and threaten to kill me?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Do you know how fucked up that is?”
“These are desperate times, Porter. The world is fucked beyond comprehension, if you haven’t been paying attention. Clearly our socialist government’s demise left us with a power vacuum. That vacuum needs to be filled, true enough, but it’s imperative that it be filled by the right person.” Calvin motioned toward the bed. “Please, sit.”
Dave sat, the pain from his groin still roiling in the depths of his gut. The room smelled of vomit, but if Calvin noticed he didn’t let it show.
Calvin turned to Rand. “Send the boys back to the barracks. You wait outside.”
“Yes, sir,” Rand replied. He followed the rest of the men outside, closing the door behind him.
Calvin took a seat on the desk, catty-corner to the bed. “Porter, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. You’re getting in on the ground floor of an entirely new world. Kansas City is only the beginning. Once the dust settles in St. Louis I’ll take it back next. Eventually I’ll take the rest of the country.”
“I thought your brother ran St. Louis.”
Calvin chuckled. “That fuckup? Maybe for now he does.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“So what?”
Dave paused, thinking. “What about the border towns? They’re not going to just go quietly.”
“I’m not worried about them. There aren’t enough left to matter.”
“Your army’s that big?”
“We’ll get there.”
“So you take Kansas City. Then St. Louis. Then the world. What then? What’s the point of it all? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“Porter, it’s not what I want to happen. It’s what I don’t want to happen.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. You will. Eventually you’ll understand everything.”
* * *
Rand awakened Dave the following day, accompanied by men Dave didn’t recognize. Rand gave no indication that they’d met before. Dave thought it wise to play along.
Rand and the men escorted Dave at gunpoint out of the building and through a set of wide double doors, into the bright sunlight outside. Without a word they walked him across the residence hall’s trimmed courtyard. Dave caught the aroma of freshly cut grass, something he hadn’t smelled in years. It brought back bitter memories of his life with Sandy, before the virus destroyed everything.
The dormitories loomed over them, rising five stories into the blue sky. The ultimate fence to keep out the infected. He wondered if what happened inside these walls might be just as bad or worse than what happened outside. He had a feeling he’d have little trouble finding out.
Men in uniforms smoked cigarettes near the end of the courtyard, automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. A couple of them glanced his way before turning back toward their peers and whatever conversation he’d interrupted. A couple dozen yards away a small group of dingy and weary-looking men eyed him closely as he approached.
Slaves, Dave thought. Masters in uniforms and slaves in rags.
/> Rand lead Dave to the group of men in uniform. “Fresh meat. St. Louis stock.”
A short and stubby man with a black beard and a cruel face stepped forward. He crushed his cigarette on his boot heel before flicking the butt into the grass. “St. Louis, eh?”
Rand nodded. “Right off the truck. Calvin wants this one unloading.”
“That so?”
“That’s what he said, yeah.”
Short and Stubby regarded Dave with a smug look. “What’s your name, asshole?”
“Porter,” Dave replied, quelling the urge to tear out the man’s tongue.
“You know how to lift a box?”
“I do.”
“Good. You report to me now. As long as you remember that I’m in charge we won’t have any problems, will we?”
“I suppose we won’t then.”
“He gives you any trouble you let me know,” Rand said.
Short and stubby scowled. “I can take care of this faggot.”
“This one’s under my direction, per Calvin.”
“Well, la-dee-dah. Ain’t that sweet.”
Rand straightened up to his full height. He peered down at Short and Stubby. “You’d do well to remember who’s in charge here yourself, Whipple.”
Whipple stared, his eyes narrowed to slits. Seconds passed with no exchange of words. Dave could feel the tension, thick and palpable.
“Yes, sir,” Whipple eventually replied through clenched teeth.
“Glad we understand each other,” Rand said. “Any problems you come get me.” He turned and walked away, leaving Dave and Whipple alone.
Whipple scowled, eyeing Dave up and down. “So you’re the teacher’s pet, eh? What makes you so fucking special?”
“My winning personality?”
“You better watch yourself, smartass,” he said, his breathing heavy. “I got my eye on you.”
Whipple continued to stare. Dave looked away, concerned that if he made eye contact he’d do something to get himself killed.
Satisfied that he’d sufficiently scolded Dave, Whipple turned toward the group of working men. He pointed to a man with a large nose and bushy eyebrows. “You!” he called out. “Pratchett! Get your ass over here!”
The man stopped what he was doing and jogged over to where Whipple stood. “You needed me, sir?”
Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands Page 12
