Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Book 4): Walking In The Shadow Of Death

by Lundy, W. J.

  “I am sorry we cannot offer you a shower or a true bath,” Alex said apologetically.

  Brad smiled, “No, this is fantastic, warm water is a luxury we haven’t experienced recently.”

  “Good. My uncle is searching through the stores, he will be bringing you sets of bedding to help you rest. Go ahead and get cleaned up, I’ll meet you back at your room later,” Alex said as he left the washroom, closing the door behind him.

  Before the door had even completely closed Brad began stripping off his heavy coats and shirts. He let them fall to the floor behind him, then grabbed the pitcher with his right hand and poured the water over his left and let it flow over his hand and into the basin. After a moment he bent his head over the basin and poured the remainder of the pitcher onto his head. He reached out with his right hand and placed one of the towels over his head to hold in the warmth of the hot water.

  Brad grabbed the towel with both hands and scrubbed his scalp vigorously before letting the towel fall around his shoulders. He let out a long sigh before opening his eyes and saying, “This is great, isn’t it Sean.”

  “Hell yeah,” he heard Sean say from behind him.

  Brad slowly opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. He saw Sean sitting buck naked on the toilet. “Aww man, what the hell Chief!” he shouted as he quickly turned back.

  “Sorry brother, but I’ve been missing the ol’ porcelain throne something fierce,” Sean said.

  “Well damn man, I coulda gave you some privacy.” Brad walked to the window and opened it before he refilled the pitcher of water and swapped it with one on the stove.

  “Don’t mind me, I ain’t shy.”

  “Yeah, ya think!” Brad said as he added hot water to the basin and began using the soap to build a lather on his hands. He added a wash rag to the basin and continued to wash himself as he heard Sean finish behind him. Sean joined him at the counter and filled his own basin as he began washing himself.

  “Seriously, give me some warning next time, now I have that image burned into my memory,” Brad laughed.

  Sean let out a small chuckle. “I’ll try but I can’t make any promises buddy. So what do you think of our hosts?” he asked as he poured the remainder of the pitcher over his head.

  “I’m not sure … they seem like good people just trying to get by. I guess I have always been conditioned to think that the end of the world would come with social structures falling apart, instead of groups like this pulling together.”

  “Damn Brad, that’s some deep thinking.” Sean laughed again. “You’re right though, I find it hard to trust them, guess it’s in my nature.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Let’s just take it easy, go along with it all, until they give us a reason to think otherwise. Even if these guys turn out to be shady, you saw as well as I did that they aren’t well armed. Keep an eye on them, same as working with the Afghan army boys back in the sandbox,” Sean said as he wrapped a towel around his waist and bundled up his clothing in his arms.

  Brad gave a knowing grin, “Yeah, I can relate to that. Treat them like friends, but never turn your back to ‘em.”

  “Exactly.” Sean put his hand on the handle of the door. “I’ll see you back at the room.”

  Brad used another pitcher of water to rinse off, removing the lather from his face and beard. He reached into his assault pack and removed an old and battered shaving kit, unzipping it and removing a break-proof mirror. Brad looked into the mirror and barely recognized himself. His hair had grown long and was hanging over his ears and neck, matching the patchy straggled beard that now covered his face. He considered using his small pair of scissors to remove the beard and trim his long unkempt hair. Smiling, he reconsidered, fully afraid of the possible results. In the end he stuffed the mirror back into the kit and gathered the rest of his things before heading out of the latrine.

  Brad exited through the door and moved back into the larger space of the third floor. He could see down the long structure and towards the small storage room. The area he was standing in was dark and gloomy, old plank flooring was below his feet and dusty steel beams over his head. The walls were made up of old brick, the same as below. The building had the smell of an old musty barn, the smells of old wood and smoke being heavily present.

  Brad moved along, following the wall down the long room. As he got closer, he saw David standing in the doorway with a bundle of heavy wool blankets under his arm. Sean was laughing and nodding his head, holding the door as he followed David into the storage room. Brad strolled up behind them and moved into the doorway, catching the attention of David.

  “Aye ducky, you look a sight better, just bringing you lads some bedding. Hope it suits you,” David said, tossing the pile to the dusty floor.

  Brad nodded, moving past David and dropping his belongings on the floor, then taking a seat on his larger rucksack positioned against the wall. “I’m sure they will be fine, thank you.”

  Sean lifted a uniform blouse to his face and smelled it, giving a sour expression as he pulled it away. “David, I hate to impose anymore, but is there a place for us to launder our clothing?”

  “Of course, don’t worry about it, leave your clothing outside the door. Mary will send one of the boys up after it.”

  “That would be great,” Sean said.

  “Very well, if you need anything else, the boys are all set up at the end of the corridor. Feel free to move about but try to stay out of the family areas after dark. The husbands get a bit touchy once the sun goes down,” David said.

  “Yeah, I can imagine. Once again, thank you for all of your help,” Sean said, reaching out for a handshake.

  David returned the gesture and slowly moved from the room before turning back. “The fires go out after dark so bundle up, it gets cold.” Sean nodded in reply as David closed the door behind him.

  Brad opened the straps on his large rucksack and dug for his cleanest dirty clothes. He found a dry shirt and a pair of clean underwear he had been saving for a special occasion. He left one set of uniforms out in case they needed to move in a hurry. The remainder of the soiled clothing he stuffed into a large netted sack he kept in his ruck, happy to finally get a chance to have them cleaned. He tossed the bag in Sean’s direction.

  Sean stared at the sack, amused. “I’m not sure about having our underwear touch, but guess I’ll make an exception,” he joked as he eagerly added his own set of uniforms and clothing to the sack and placed it outside the door. Sean then divided the bedding and tossed Brad a pair of heavy wool blankets and a worn white sheet. “Whoever they are, they seem to be very resourceful,” he said, breaking the silence.

  Brad pulled on the dry T-shirt and looked down at the wool blankets. “I know, right … shelter, hot water, food, doing pretty well by most standards, gives ya hope, you know.”

  Sean folded the heavy blankets in half with the sheet on top. He then used a third field blanket from his own pack to complete his makeshift bed. He folded the heavy coat into the shape of a pillow. Next he pulled his .45 pistol and stuck it on top of his pack just inside of arm’s reach. “I know, brother, I had some of the same thoughts,” he said, laying back, resting his head on the coat.

  Brad continued talking to Sean as he dug through his pack, sorting his belongings and taking inventory. Before long he noticed Sean snoring. “Damn, thanks for the company, Chief,” he said in a low voice. He made a bed of his own, following Sean’s example, and removed his own poncho liner to use as a blanket. He moved his heavy pack and placed it in front of the door. It wouldn’t keep out an intruder, but it would slow them up.

  Before Brad sat on his own bedroll, he removed the Sigma pistol from his body armor. He stared at the handgun silently, wondering how the weapon had managed its journey all this way without having fired a shot. Brad pressed the magazine release with his thumb and let the mag drop into his left palm. It was still fully loaded. He used his thumb to remove the top two rounds; he rolled them between hi
s fingers before pressing them back into the magazine. Brad slowly pulled the slide on the pistol, ejecting the chambered round into his lap. He picked up the round, examining it before dropping it back into the chamber, cautiously letting the slide close on it. He then reinserted the magazine and placed the pistol on his own pack lying just behind him.

  Brad lay back and closed his eyes just as the window above his head began to lose the light. He didn’t know what time it was, and at the moment he didn’t care. Even though he didn’t know the men outside the door, he felt at ease around them, and knew he would sleep better with them standing the watch. It sure beat the hell out of the last few days of running and gunning. He worried about Hahn lying downstairs alone. He debated in his mind, should he visit his friend? What if Hahn was to awaken alone in the room? Brad pulled the poncho liner over his chest, continuing the internal argument as he gave into exhaustion and drifted to sleep.

  22.

  He woke to the sounds of footfalls outside the door. The dull orange glow of daybreak was beginning to fill the space. Brad looked to his right and saw that Sean was already up and dressing, with one of the heavy blankets draped over his shoulders. He noticed Brad stirring on the floor. “That old man wasn’t joking when he said they turn the heat off at night, son of a bitch it got cold in here—”

  Sean was interrupted by a knock at the door. Somewhat startled, he moved to the entrance and slid Brad’s pack out of the way. Sean posted his boot to prevent the door from being forced open; then unlatched the lock and slowly cracked the door revealing the smiling faces of Luke and Alex.

  “Good morning boys, what brings you by?” Sean said as he opened the door wide.

  “Thought you would like to know that breakfast is ready, down at the end there,” Alex said, holding the laundry sack stuffed with folded laundry.

  Sean took the bag, smiling. “Wow, thank your aunt for this!”

  Alex chuckled, “Shoot, Luke is the one you should be thanking. He was washing yer clothes all night.”

  “Shut up Alex,” Luke said, looking away. “Well hey, breakfast is ready, you should try and eat it while it’s still hot.”

  Brad stood, pulling on his uniform trousers. “Great, I’m starving,” he said, lifting his arms to stretch his back before pulling on his heavy thermal shirt.

  Luke made a twisted face. “Don’t get too excited, you haven’t seen it yet.”

  “Don’t mind Luke, he is a picky eater, it’s really not so bad,” Alex said. “Uncle says we should be ready to travel in a couple hours, we like to take advantage of the high points of the day.”

  “High points?” Brad asked.

  “Yes, when the sun is brightest we see less of the smart ones then. The creepers don’t seem to mind the sun as much anymore,” Luke answered.

  “Anymore?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah you know, in the first days we didn’t have creepers and things got quiet during the day … in the summer and fall … but since the winter has fallen, the creepers have shown up,” Luke answered.

  “Either way, have your stuff packed or ready to go,” Alex said.

  Sean gave a mock salute. “Will do … and Luke, thank you for washing my undies,” he said sincerely, causing Luke to scowl.

  The boys left the two men alone. They quickly separated the laundry and dressed in fresh uniforms. Then they packed their bags, preparing for another day of travel. Brad put his M9 in the hip holster and tucked the Sigma into a pocket on the front of his heavy coat. He tightened the straps on his bags, attaching the smaller assault pack to the outside of his ruck. He then laid his heavy body armor on top of it before lifting the entire kit as one. Stepping out of the room, he followed Sean down the corridor to where they saw a gathering of men around a long plank table.

  The table seated ten men and was crowded on both sides. Brad moved towards a wall and dropped his kit next to Sean’s. As he turned around he took notice of the brothers Luke and Alex sitting across from one another at an end of the table. An older man that they recognized as the door guard, Robby, from the previous night jumped from his seat next to Luke with an empty tin plate. “Here you go friend, I was just finishing up, take me spot,” Robby announced. Following his lead a second man also got up, offering his seat.

  “Thank you,” Brad said, taking Robby’s seat next to Luke. Before he could ask, a tin plate stacked with strips of brown meat and kidney beans was slid in front of him by a middle-aged man dressed in a heavy dark red and black flannel shirt. Sean took the seat across from Brad and was also quickly served with a plate of food. Brad lifted a piece of the meat to his mouth and took a cautious bite. He found the meat warm, tough, dry, and heavily salted. “Venison?” Brad asked as he continued to chew.

  “It’s moose,” the man in the red flannel responded.

  “It’s good, did you take it?” Brad asked.

  “Aye, two days ago, in the woods behind the factory. Not in season, but the game wardens don’t seem to mind much these days,” the man, said causing others around the table to laugh. “Are you a hunter?”

  “I have been known to bag a white-tailed deer or two,” Brad said.

  The man laughed again, “Hell, you can’t be all bad then. My name is Jorgensen,” he said, outstretching a large hand. Brad returned the handshake, feeling the man’s powerful grip.

  Sean outstretched his own hand, introducing himself, “I’m Sean, I think we nearly met yesterday out by the fence?”

  Jorgensen gave Sean a puzzled stare.

  “We didn’t meet per se, but I recognize the red flannel. Was it not you with the scoped rifle?”

  “Well I’ll be … you’re good … I heard you were soldiers but didn’t expect such talented ones,” Jorgensen again laughed while taking Sean’s hand. “Yes that was me, I spend a lot of time on the hillside. Watching for the Buhmann mostly, or observing traffic on the road.” He paused, stroking his clean-shaven chin. “Hasn’t been much friendly traffic lately.”

  “Friendly?” Sean asked, scooping a spoonful of beans into his mouth.

  “Yeah, not everyone on the rock these days is friendly. Most of the bad ones have set up closer to the coast, we don’t see much of them out here. Although they have a camp some thirty kilometers south—”

  “We try to stay away from them,” a boy Luke’s age interrupted.

  Brad turned to look at the boy, recognizing him as the passenger from the truck which had picked them up on the road.

  “That’s James. He’s my cousin. Uncle Dave is his dad,” Alex said quickly.

  “I can speak for myself, Alex. But yeah, we try to keep our distance from strangers,” James said. “You have been the exception, I would have left you all on the road.”

  Sean nodded. “It probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea. I don’t think I would have faulted you for it. But I appreciate you all stopping and helping my man. How is he, anyhow?”

  The table suddenly grew quiet. “He’s still with the doctor. We can see him after breakfast if you’d like,” Alex said.

  Brad, wanting to know more about the others, turned the conversation back towards the strangers. “What do you know about the people from the coast? What makes them unfriendly?”

  Jorgensen moved a chair close to the table and took a seat. “They ain’t from here. If I had to take a guess I’d say they come in on a freighter. A number of them beached up and took shelter here when the ports on the mainland turned them away.

  “Most of ‘em kept to themselves when they got here, isolated and under quarantine. After the lights went out, who knows what they would turn to … I ran into them a few times, always from afar, keeping my distance. I watched these fellas a bit, you know, when they came in to our valley.

  “They used to come by here every now and again, quite often before the heavy snowfall, not so much anymore, but they still out there. Mostly rummaging through empty homes and what not. They travel in fancy sports cars, not useful things like trucks. Seem to be townies mostly, not much practica
l sense of things. I figure the snow has kept them closer to home nowadays.”

  “How do you know they aren’t friendly?” Sean asked.

  Jorgensen took a sip from the water glass he had been holding and gave a look as if he was pondering the answer. “Just speculation, I guess. I left a note on a pole where they wouldn’t miss it. Trying to make contact, ya know. Offering to set up a means of communication. I watched them from far away. They saw the note alright they did. But a big man, he tore it down and read the paper then crumpled it. Tossed it to the ground and carried on as if it was a burden to him.”

  Brad turned to face Jorgensen, “Maybe they just keep to themselves as well?”

  “There’s more,” James said, slamming a fist on the table.

  Jorgensen continued to speak. “There was family further south. A man with his wife, a son and daughter each. We offered to bring them into the factory, but the man said they would make due. They had a nice place, back off the road and settled into the woods a bit. We made a habit of checking in on them, bringing goods to trade.” Jorgensen laughed, “Even though that man never gave much in return. Still though, Mary always sent good things for the girls.”

  Jorgensen paused and looked down at the table, shaking his head, “That man was a fool.”

  James got up from the table angrily and stepped away. After a few paces he stopped and looked back. “More than a fool, he was reckless, and he had no right to make the decision for all of them. Dad should have made them move here.”

  Things fell uncomfortably quiet around the table. Sean placed his spoon on his empty plate and slid it to the center of the table. “I take it … they were more than just strangers from up the road.”

  “Aye, the girl Molly, she was familiar with James, they were classmates.” Jorgensen said.

  “What happened to the family?” Brad asked.

  “Can’t be sure. Me and the boys … we paid ‘em a visit … some two, 'bout maybe three weeks ago,” Jorgensen said, pausing to search for the right words.