by Steven Pajak
But home was very different than we last remembered; the gates which had been damaged by Providence during the war are now completely ruined. The northeast corner of the wall that surrounded and protected the community caved in and one of the green containers now blocked the gap in the wall, the loose bricks of the old wall lay in jumbled piles against the metal container.
The fields to the north from which Providence rained hell on them with snipers flanked by makeshift walls made from pieces of old chain link fence, corrugated metal, wood and other materials to create the barriers. As we looked upon this changed landscape, I couldn’t help but think I’d truly stepped into the apocalyptic landscape of a Mad Max movie.
For the first time since we saw the barriers and were ambushed by these strangers, my heart lept into my throat as slick coils of fear gripped me. I feared what happened here and what had become of our friends we’d left behind. Had they been taken, held captive by this group? Were they even alive?
We entered Randall Oaks, bound by thin coils of paracord. My arms continued to ache and my wrists felt chaffed. I couldn’t help but look toward Harper’s Knoll, the place where we’d buried our dead family and friends. There are more graves than I remembered. My eyes then followed the sloping landscape to my house on the hill, overlooking the knoll. From this distance, it looked empty and abandoned. The spiky stems of the rose bushes beneath where my wife was buried brought a flood of emotions I struggled to bury.
A white panel truck with a bakery logo emblazoned on its side dissected the interior road that lead into the community. On the flanks of the truck were two of the upended cargo containers, serving as guard or observation towers. These twenty-foot containers extended twice as high as the community walls, providing good sight lines outside the confines. Two women wearing parkas, with thick scarves protecting their necks from the wind, stood perched upon each tower respectively, armed with rifles.
The man in front signaled to one of the women and she nodded her head. I saw relief on the face of the woman closest to us. I was reminded of Lara, and how that same look would spread across her face whenever I returned from a patrol. I couldn’t help but wonder if these two were together, a couple.
Instead of being led further into the community, to our command post or one of the other homes as I expected, we were taken to a trailer on the east lawn. A set of wooden steps led into the trailer. Inside stood a wood table and a few chairs of the IKEA variety. The roof of the trailer was cut with a torch and the metal removed. It was replaced with some sort of plastic or plexi that allowed natural light inside, but keep them dry from rain and snow.
Brian and I were seated in two of the three chairs while Randy whispered into the ear of one of his men who nodded and left to complete his orders. Now left alone with us, he moved to the door of the trailer creating distance between himself and us. His gun, although not pointed directly at us, could be at the ready in a moment’s notice if we decided to rush him. With our hands still bound, that was unlikely.
Finally, I had a moment to exchange looks with my brother. I could tell anger smoldered dangerously below the surface of his cool exterior. I winked at my older brother letting him know we were going to be fine. We were going to find out what happened here, and we were going to get our people and be back on the farm before nightfall.
The problem was, I didn’t believe any of that and my brother could see right through me.
We waited in silence for whatever would come next. More than likely an interrogation, perhaps some mild torture, depending on what kind of people they were. I looked around, taking in my surroundings, looking for weakness or anything I could use to my advantage. But the place was barren save for the table and chairs.
On one of the white walls was a hand-drawn map, probably done with Sharpie markers. The map was about six feet high by ten feet wide, a well-done representation of Randall Oaks, Providence, and the main Route 20 corridor, including the thin arteries of smaller interior roads. The map boundaries, drawn in black, was dotted with small X marks circled in red. Many of the other details were not as clear from where I sat. Something about the map did not bode well.
I used my knee to nudge my brother’s leg. When he looked at me, I nodded my head in the direction of the map. Randy left his post at the door and came forward, placing his body in front of the map. He and Brian locked eyes as if in a staring competition, a show of bravado from two men who are so much alike but fail to see the similarities in each other.
Just when I thought I could not stand the bravado any longer, the door opened and a man and woman entered the room. I immediately recognized the man and a pit dropped in my stomach and my spit turned into acid. Phil stood before us, the third in command at Providence, at least he was before the fighting when both sides took heavy casualties. Now, he was the man in charge.
Shocked, our worst fears realized, we both stood from our chairs. Brian said, “You son of a bitch,” and started forward toward Phil before Randy stepped in front and shoved him backward where he landed in the chair, but could not keep his balance and toppled over.
Head down, I charged Randy. With my hands tied behind my back, I dipped my shoulder and rammed the bastard in the stomach, pushing him back where he slammed against the wall of the container. Using all of my weight and my low center of gravity, I tried to pin him against the wall. However, his hands were free and before I could reposition myself to use my knees to assault his groin, I felt the butt of his rifle against one of my kidneys. The pain was immediate and I fell to my one knee.
Behind, Phil called out, “Stop!”
With some effort, I got my feet under me and stood to face Randy. Now it was my turn at staring him down. Instead of playing the game, Randy slid around me, his hands now raised in a passive manner. I turned to watch him and from the corner of my eye I saw the woman approach.
Suddenly, my knees felt week as a rush of relief overwhelmed me. “Sam! Thank God.”
She embraced me tightly, almost knocking me off my feet. “I knew you would come,” Sam said, planting kisses on my cheeks and hugging my neck.
“I’d hug you back if I could,” I said. As hard as she was squeezing my neck I was surprised I could still talk.
Realizing that my hands were bound behind me, Sam turned to Randy and ordered him to cut the ropes. He looked to Phil for permission but Sam said, “You don’t need his permission, cut the damn ropes right now!”
After a brief moment of hesitation, Randy slung his rifle over his shoulder and came forward. When he cut the ropes, freeing my hands, I used the opportunity to pull Sam into a bear hug and kiss her cheeks. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Excuse me,” Brian said. We both turned to him now. He managed to push himself up from the floor and now stood leaning back against the trailer wall. “Can I get in on some of this?”
Now Sam lept at him, smothering him in both hugs and kisses. This time, Randy came forward and removed Brian’s bonds without being ordered.
“Thank you, Randy,” Sam said. “Can you please find Kat and bring her here? But don’t you dare tell her who is here. I want it to be a surprise.”
“I can’t believe—” I started.
“You are really—” Sam started.
“—you’re here—”
“—here in front—”
“—I thought we lost you,” I finished.
“—of me, I don’t believe it,” she said and we both started laughing. We were both so excited we were talking over each other.
“What is going on, Sam?” Brian tried to ask while he could finally get a word in.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Sam said. “But right now I just want to hug my favorite brothers.”
She put one arm around my waist, and one around Brian’s. Even he couldn’t resist breaking down a moment. He finally committed and wrapped his arms around me and Sam. For a moment, we were just a tangle of crying, happy people.
* * *
After a few minutes o
f getting reacquainted, Sam told us about how she, Kat, Ravi and the others had a rough time during the winter. Things had gotten very bad for them. Food supplies went quicker than expected. Even with the solar panels, keeping the place warm enough throughout the day required them to have fires. Paul and Ravi had moved into the Command Post because it became too difficult to keep two places going.
During their darkest hour, though, a miracle. They survived the winter by joining forces with the enemy, with those who remained from Providence. The former leadership was gone, most dead from the war between our two communities. Phil was in charge now and he extended an olive branch and made an offer that Sam and Kat could not refuse.
After a brutal attack by a group of survivors, a vicious gang that sprung up after the outbreak and aggressively grew ranks at the expense of other survivors, Phil had no choice but to move his people to a more defensible area. He thought that Randal Oaks had been abandoned; their scouts had suggested that the larger majority of the residents had moved on months ago, leaving only the ailing behind to fend for themselves. Surely, they had all succumbed to the harsh winter. However, to his surprise, Phil found the group alive, barely, and was able to convince them that they were better able to survive if they worked together.
It took much convincing. Although Sam couldn’t stomach making a deal with the enemy, she knew that they could not survive without them. The walls that protected them would not save them from hyperthermia or starvation. The few of them that could still defend would leave gaping holes in their lines and would be overrun within minutes if Providence truly wanted to take over the community. Kat took even more convincing. Her hatred of the neighboring community ran deep; she had the scars, both physically and emotionally that continued to remind her of the terror.
Eventually, Kat came around. She was nothing if not a realist. Having weighed her options, Kat knew there was no situation in which they would survive the winter without much needed supplies from Providence. She also knew that those supplies would come at a price. In the end, it was not such a high price, at all. Instead, Phil had made quite a fair offer.
Phil’s plan was simple. Come spring, if we returned for Sam and Kat, and they wanted to leave, they were free to go. In the meantime, Providence would share their resources in exchange for taking up residence behind Randall Oaks walls, thereby ensuring everyone’s survival.
In the few months that passed, the new Randall Oaks had begun to extend the safe zone outside of their walls. Using truck trailers, trash containers, and large shipping containers from the shipping yard to the north, they set up barriers that would keep out not only the hordes, but also the evil men and women. Each day, they pushed their barriers out further to the east and south. Phil explained that their hope was to eventually connect with safe zones created by other communities around them. The goal was to establish safe trade routes. To connect to neighbors and take back the precious land that had been lost to the hordes.
One of the first steps, though, was to find a replenishable food source that would allow them to grow what they needed within the safe zone and not risk lives or resources having to scrounge and scavenge among the creatures. The plan was to get the abandoned farm across from Randall Oaks functioning again. The ground was still fertile and there were some among their group who knew how to farm. By the time we’d arrived, they’d already begun clearing the fields of the collapsing structures and working on getting the abandoned machinery running, but there was still a lot they could do by manual labor.
It all sounded great. Phil wanted to begin expanding the safe zone to the west, in the direction of Finnegan Farms. There was fertile land that way, and more open trade routes and safer passage in those lesser-populated areas. They would connect with their nearest neighbors, who would connect with their neighbors and so on, eventually creating one big inter-connected commune.
Although it was a good plan, I doubted it would work. I explained to Phil that to the west, Finnegan Farms was the nearest neighbor. Everything in between here and the farm is dead or abandoned.
“That’s all right. We can build a trade route from here to the farm straight up Route 20. It’ll be, what, a fifteen mile long safe zone?”
“Twelve,” Brian said.
“Okay, so even better. Less road to secure.”
I could see that Phil was excited when he talked about his plan. As a leader, staying positive and planning for the future, thinking about how to make things better, was the one thing that kept you motivated. To my own ear, nothing sounded better than taking back the land and uniting the living against the dead. But it could not be done.
“A 12-mile safe zone sounds good, Phil, it really does, but that’s almost impossible. Twelve miles is a long way for trade. It would be very difficult to secure the area in between. Even if we shared responsibilities, there were not enough men and women to secure such a long stretch.”
Phil didn’t respond. His shoulders slumped and his head hung. He was no longer that excited ball of energy he had been a moment ago. I felt horrible for shitting on his dream, but that’s all it was. All it could be.
“Listen Phil,” I said. “I’m not saying that what you propose will never happen. It’s just going to take a very long time to get there. We can start by combining our people. You come to Finnegan Farms. We already have viable crops. We have the equipment, but lord knows we can use more hands to work the farm, to make it more successful.”
I put a hand on his shoulder now. “We can take you in,” I said. “We can take you all in.”
He looked at me then and said, “We don’t want to be taken in. We want to take back. We want to get out there and take back what the walking meat has taken away from us. And it’s not just about taking back land, it’s about rebuilding society. It is about taking back our humanity. We can’t keep cowering. We can’t keep hiding from those foul creatures, holed up in our little hidey holes, scavenging food where we can. That’s no way to live. That’s just waiting to die.”
* * *
“So why not move west first?” Brian asked. Now that his hands were free, he fished a cigarette out of the dwindling pack and lit it. “I mean, you guys had your fingers in all the neighbor’s pies. Seems like they’d be a good place to start.”
Phil was quiet for a second, then he turned and walked toward the map. He stood in front of it and looked it over for a moment, then said, “We had major footholds in all of the new subdivisions to the north of Providence, as well as those to the west and southwest.”
Joining him now, we looked at the large area he indicated with the sweep of a hand. “Senior had worked out deals with all of the leaders that brought us more than enough supplies to last us for years to come.”
“You mean he swindled and stole from them,” Brian said. He dragged on his cigarette and exhaled smoke in Phil’s direction. “And killed. Right, Phil?”
“What happened was an accident and you know that. We were all there?” Phil said. Now his face was beginning to flush. “Things were crazy then, and things got heated and it just happened. He didn’t mean to kill Charlie.”
“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?” Brian asked. “We thought you were good people, but you turned out to be just like Senior and Frank. You fucked us, Phil. You could have helped stop the war before it started but you made your choice and you picked the wrong side.”
His face fully red now, Phil took a step forward. “You can’t honestly stand here and pin this shit on me. It was you who taunted Senior when he came to you with a compromise. It was you who laughed and spit in his face when he offered you a way out.”
“A compromise? He wanted our supplies and in return he offered nothing.” Brian spat.
“You wanted too much in return. Did you really expect he would turn over one of his men to you, to be executed or worse? Would you, if the roles were reversed?”
“I wouldn’t have tried to extort supplies from my neighbors. I would have put a killer on the road�
��”
“He wasn’t a killer!” Phil shouted.
“He pulled a gun out and shot Charlie in the face for nothing!” Brian said and before I could react, he shoved Phil hard enough for the other man to lift off his feet.
Phil landed hard on his ass and slammed back into the wall just below the map. He sat stunned for a moment.
“Stop this right now!” Sam shouted. She stood in front of Brian with her hands out in front of her. “No more!”
I offered a hand to Phil to help him up, but he slapped it away. Struggling to his feet, he pointed at me now and said, “It was you, both of you, that pushed us to war. When we left that night, I convinced Senior that the supplies weren’t worth the blood it would take to breach your walls. I convinced him that I could patch things up and that we could be allies again.”
On his feet again, he cupped his hands over his lower back, obviously in pain from his fall. “But you two couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. You waited almost a week thinking we wouldn’t connect the dots. Then you came into our community and killed Andy. You didn’t just kill him, you maimed and mutilated him in his own god damn home!”
We all stood in stunned silence while Phil’s words hung over us like thick fog. For a moment, I almost couldn’t breathe. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest and my hands trembled slightly as the memories of that night flooded back in my mind.
“What is he saying,” Sam asked, breaking the silence. She looked first at me and then at my brother. “Is this true? Did you go back and kill the man who shot Charlie?”
Without hesitation, Brian nodded. He reached out and took Sam’s hand. “He killed Charlie. He was just a kid and I couldn’t let him get away with that. I just couldn’t.”
