“You’re…new around here?”, he asked.
“Yeah, just got in this morning, only passing through don’t worry”, John answered, attempting to reassure the man.
“Kids”, he said to his family, who still remained silent, continuing to look only at the food in front of them. “Go with your Mother and finish your food inside okay?”, he asked of them.
Obeying, they each filed into the RV – a dirtied white monstrosity with a once orange and yellow stripe running around it, the colours now so faded it looked as if it had been left out in the desert for a few years. Upon them having closed the door behind them, the father continued.
“If you fellas are here to raid, the guards will have your heads you hear? Now we don’t have anything to give, so please, just move on, we don’t want no trouble”, he said firmly, but with a slight quiver hanging over the words he clearly didn’t feel able to back up.
“Whoa whoa, we’re not here for anything like that!”, Andrew cut in, sounding almost offended. “I swear, we thought this place was empty, just wanted to scavenge for supplies! We don’t want any trouble either!”, he insisted.
“He’s right”, John added after a pause, as he got over the annoyance of his companion taking away any fear of the pair the man had once had. “We’re just travellers, was only going to ask you about this place, see if I could head over and do some trading with some folks or something”, he said.
“Oh”, the man responded, before looking them up and down for what felt like the thousandth time. “Sorry, people just wander into here all the time, some are good folk, some aren’t, but you tend to just assume the worst these days”, he said.
“Yeah we get that”, John replied. “Tell you what, how’s about we start over? Name’s John”, he said, extending a hand, “And this here’s my friend Andrew”, he added with a point of the finger.
“Good to meet you both”, the man replied, now clearly more at ease, “I’m David, this here’s-“, he paused as he turned round and remembered he had sent his family inside. “Well… that was my wife Amy, and our kids Derrick and Lois. Maybe you’ll meet them another time, if you’re planning on sticking around?”, he asked.
“Maybe”, John responded, “Guess it depends on how the place is, mind if we ask you about it?”, he said.
“Not at all, here have a seat”, David responded, gesturing to the tree stumps laid out as seating around the crackling morning fire, “What do you want to know?”.
* * *
The trio sat and talked for a while, running over the basics of the campsite. David was quick to explain that it was an ‘open’ camp, meaning that people would wander in and out all the time, some camping for a while and other times just stopping for the night. Nobody paid to enter or leave, which John liked immensely, but a group of men did stop by occasionally and demand supplies in exchange for protection, which he didn’t. The group in question matched the description of the three the pair had seen back on the outskirts of Ashton, though at full force their numbers apparently reached ten or eleven members. They were apparently reasonable men, never demanding what people couldn’t afford to give, but they were also known to supervise a series of other similar camps, and so were definitely taking more than they needed.
Eventually the men were joined by David’s concerned wife Amy, a once pretty blonde of around the same mid-30’s age as her husband, her face clearly worn by the troubles of the world they now lived in. She had come out worried that her partner had not re-joined his family in the RV, and was at first reluctant to speak to either John or Andrew, appearing to be vocally paralysed by a fear of the unknown pair. After introductions were made however, she was quick to change her tune. Before long she was speaking of her past as an English teacher at a high school, and her husband’s work at a lumberyard – presumably behind a desk as far as John and Andrew could tell, given his build – and she was keen to regale the pair with details of their family vacation, the same one that had led them to Apple River.
Soon it was time for John and Andrew to tell their tales, and after John finished sharing the same partially fabricated story he’d told earlier, the focus shifted to his companion.
“So Andrew, tell me about how you ended up at this motel we’ve heard about?”, Amy asked.
John’s head rose slightly, it was a question he’d been meaning to ask, but one he had avoided until now, assuming he’d no doubt have had to answer more about himself in return.
“Well it’s pretty simple really, kind of like you folk, me and the wife had taken our daughter away for the weekend, then when everything hit the fan we just holed up in our rooms till the news stopped broadcasting. Eventually we had to come out for food, and found the whole place full of people doing the same thing as us. Been there ever since”, he explained.
“And what about this fella here, how’d you end up partnering up with him?”, Amy asked.
“Well, he needed someone for a supply run, and I needed supplies, so I joined him for a trip… after some convincing”, he answered.
“Well alrighty, and what brings you both to Apple River?”, Amy continued.
“We’re just here to try and stock up on things m’am”, John answered. “We’re hoping to do some trading, and then we’ll head back out on the road. Either of you happen to know anybody it might be worth bartering with around here?”, he asked.
The pair looked at each other for a moment, apparently genuinely struggling to think of anybody worth bothering with, a sight that disappointed John immensely. Eventually though, David spoke once more.
“There’s Donald, he’s a couple plots up camped out in that one-man up there”, he said, pointing towards a small tent about sixty feet away. “He’s always heading in and out of camp getting stuff, I reckon he’d be a good one. But he isn’t the nicest of folk, wouldn’t be too surprised if he didn’t want to talk to a newcomer”, he continued.
“Oh and there’s a guy right up at the back who deals in drink”, his wife interrupted, keen to talk of cheerier subjects, “He’s normally got some-“
“No sweetheart”, David cut her short, “He got bit remember? He’s gone”, he said.
“Oh right…”, she recalled, drooping her head slightly. “Gosh it gets so hard to keep track”.
“Do you get a lot of attacks here?”, Andrew asked timidly.
“Not many, but we’re so exposed that when one does stumble across us it’s not uncommon to lose someone”, David answered.
“Normally just folk sleeping rough though, we’re pretty safe in our old Bounder here”, Amy answered, keen once again to talk of happier things, as she motioned towards the RV she was clearly proud of having. “Kept us safe both before and after everything went to hell!”, she chuckled to herself.
“Well”, John said, rising to his feet, “We can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve told us, we’ll go check in with this Donald fella, maybe pop by and say our goodbyes before we head out”, he finished.
“Oh you won’t stay for some food?”, Amy asked, apparently reverting back to the generous hostess stroke housewife she had once been, much to the dismay of her husband, whose face was unable to hide his disapproval at the thought of sharing out food to strangers.
“No no, thank you for the offer but we best be heading off, we’ve taken up enough of your time”, John replied, to the relief of David’s now more relaxed face.
“Thank you so much”, Andrew added as he too stood up, turning to David and Amy in turn to shake their hands, before following in his companions footsteps.
“Ready to make another new friend?”, John asked of Andrew as the pair walked towards the tradesman Donald’s small tent, his old and rusted red Toyota pickup truck parked next to it.
“I guess so”, Andrew replied, unsure whether to be happy at them having found the campsite, unhappy at it being filled with people, relieved to meet new friends, or scared at the thought of meeting yet another stranger. His head was swimming with emotions he’d not yet
had time to process, and he desperately needed a break.
Although John was in at least a somewhat similar place, he was much keener to press on, rather than delay the true purpose of this mission any more than they already had. This was especially the case as he now needed to think of a way to be alone with David before they left, having been unable to ask if he had seen John’s family due to Andrew being in such close proximity. His hand clutched his wallet as he walked, checking to make sure that it was where he had left it – held firmly in his right jean pocket – the picture of his family encased in one of its many now empty card slots.
Arriving at the tent, John looked around for a moment, his hands confused as if looking for a doorbell or knocker, before eventually leaning toward the truck, and rapping his knuckles loudly three times.
“Anybody home?”, he asked, again confused about the etiquette that existed for summoning someone from a tent.
There was no response.
“We’re just a couple travellers, been told you might be worth talking to on the trading front”, John continued.
Still there was no response.
Keen to ensure that this introduction was made much more easily than the last, John spoke again. “We’re not here for anything but fair trade, the family down the way said you might be interested, we don’t want any trouble, my companion here’s called Andrew, he’s as nice as they come, and I’m Jo-“.
What happened next was seemingly instant. Before John could finish speaking his own name, a figure had emerged from behind the pair, a hand appearing over John’s left shoulder, another pulling him round so as to put his body right in-between Andrew and the unidentified person. The newcomer knew what he was doing, he’d positioned himself perfectly, now using John’s large build as a human shield against Andrew. Watching the events unfold, Andrew’s eyes widened in horror, as he saw the sharp, steel blade of a knife glimmer in the sunlight, the same knife John now felt against the front of his neck.
“Now what in the hell do you two want from old Donald?”.
Chapter 12: Playing Nice
“We…we don’t want anything from you, sir!”, quivered Andrew’s voice, his body visibly shaking at the situation. He knew that the best thing to do would be to draw his weapon, but he doubted he could even get it out of his pocket with the intense surge of adrenaline currently coursing through his body, let alone raise, aim and fire it with any kind of accuracy. Still, it was something he needed to at least pretend to be able to do, and so he slowly placed his hand onto the butt of his M1911, visible at current as nothing more than a silver sliver just barely protruding from its makeshift holster.
“Let’s not do anything stupid now buddy, or your friend here’s gonna’ meet an untimely demise”, said Donald with a sickening laugh, as he appeared to press the knife even harder against John’s throat, a harsh response to Andrew’s slightest of movements.
“I t…told you before, we’re just tr…travellers”, rasped John’s muffled voice, the knife making him incredibly conscious of speaking with any kind of volume, for fear of expanding his throat into the sharpened edge of the blade. “We don’t want anything more than fair trade”, he continued.
“Well let’s just see about that”, replied Donald, his free hand reaching down into each of John’s pockets, pulling out his wallet and a few loose shotgun shells.
John couldn’t believe it, he was being mugged, or at least that’s what he initially thought. That idea was quickly dispelled however, as his would-be mugger tossed the shells aside, as if deeming them worthless.
Whilst events had been unfolding, numerous nearby campers had noticed the situation, and were now watching inquisitively, perhaps out of genuine concern for John’s life, but more likely for the entertainment of humans fighting humans for a change, instead of just the undead. John had even seen a twitch of curtains over in David’s RV, but he knew they wouldn’t come. A family like his had too much to lose by getting involved, and that certainly wasn’t something he could be angry about. Andrew meanwhile simply stood still, his body starting to shake slightly less, but his head still in no position to do anything useful.
“Well well well, what do we have here?”, asked Donald, as he awkwardly sifted through John’s wallet with his free hand. “Georgia born and bred, and an army man to boot? Something tells me we could have been good friends”, Donald said, grinning, “…You know, if things were a little different that is”, he added, re-gripping the knife even tighter. “I’m afraid though, that you’re looking less and less like a ‘traveller’ by the second”, he growled, continuing his search.
“If you’re looking for money you won’t find any in there, didn’t seem much point in carrying it around no more”, John pointed out.
“No no, no money needed here, not the coin and note type anyway, but there’s no better way to get to know a man than to look through-“.
Donald stopped short mid-sentence, clearly having found something else he disliked. Both John and Andrew simultaneously braced themselves for what they feared was about to happen, though they had no idea why.
John’s ears just barely caught the faint noise of metallic leaving a surface, the sort of noise you would only hear in the quietest, tensest of situations. The noise however, was not that of metal striking skin, but of a blade being lifted off of skin, as Donald slowly moved the blade away from John’s throat. Andrew’s eyes could only stare in shock, perhaps more surprised at the sight of the stand-off ending peacefully than he would have been if it had ended gruesomely. After just a second of peace though, Donald resumed his old duty of doing things with incredible speed, such speed that neither John nor Andrew had time to understand what was happening.
Swiftly he released his grip and span John on the spot to face his captor, John finally able to see the man for the first time. He was older by a good ten years, but was still both reasonably tall and well built, albeit narrowly less so than John on both counts, which was what had made him such a perfect human shield. He had long, dark, greasy hair that was combed back over his head, and the bone structure of what may once have been a very handsome man. Now though, his face appeared scarred, perhaps from whatever other confrontations he’d had since everything began, or maybe from times before it. Whatever the case, he now gave the impression of a very violent individual, which was far from a comforting notion at this point in time.
“Tell me, ‘Mr Parker’, are you a family man?”, Donald asked of John.
John shook his head slowly in response.
“I didn’t ask you to lie to me John, I asked you a simple question”, Donald said, shaking him slightly as if to dislodge the untruth.
John stared back, confusion cascading across his face. How did he have any idea he was lying? It didn’t make any sense? They’d never met before? There was no card in his wallet that had any mention of family? Then however, he thought back to the picture of his wife and child, realising suddenly that it must have been found.
This realisation now gave John two choices, neither of which he was particularly happy with. The first was to continue the lie to protect his story with Andrew, and in doing so risk his own life at the hands of someone who might not take kindly to a man with a picture of another man’s family in his wallet. The second, was to come clean, and accept whatever fallout Andrew threw at him.
“Wife, one kid”, he said finally.
Behind John Andrew’s shaking had completely subsided, as he now stood very much still, puzzling over this latest revelation. It was the first time John had owned up to any family, and more importantly, was the exact opposite of what he had said previously. Suddenly Andrew found himself with so many questions to ask, and could feel the blood begin to boil inside of him. But even now, he knew he had to hold his tongue, at least until the situation had defused.
“Tell me their names, Parker”, instructed Donald.
“Why?”, questioned John firmly, keen to keep as much to himself as possible.
“Because, John
”, he started, before raising the blade with incredible speed back to John’s throat, “I’m the man with the knife”, he said firmly, licking his lips slightly at the last syllable.
John hesitated, but knew he had to answer. “Michelle and…Hayley”, he said, for once opting for an honest answer, in a bid to end the situation as soon as possible.
John felt a sudden and excruciatingly blunt pain, as Donald threw the full weight of his forehead against John’s, head-butting him with such force that John was thrown backwards onto the ground. Within seconds, and long before John could do anything to help himself, Donald descended on him once more, pinning him to the ground and placing the knife back into position against his neck.
“How many times am I going to have to tell you before this is over, I DO NOT LIKE LIARS JOHN!”, Donald yelled angrily, now attracting the attention of yet more people.
At this point, there was practically a crowd around, all keeping their distance, but all watching nonetheless. Some looked over from their nearby makeshift homes, others from further up the camp, and some had wandered over and were peering in from just a few metres away. What worried Andrew the most though, was that he imagined none would side with them, as all were in a camp with this psychopath and presumably had been for some time, and didn’t know either Andrew or John from anyone. Either the situation had to resolve peacefully, or Andrew was certain that at least one of them was going to die.
“I’m not lying to you!”, John insisted, looking his aggressor eye to eye, trying to convey some kind of signal that he was genuinely telling the truth.
“Then why pray tell”, Donald began, “Did she tell me her name was Gillian!?”
John lay on the ground, still staring at his attacker eye to eye, his mouth slowly opening and quivering with confusion, his eyes widening and closing, his whole body shaking as he tried to process the news he had just heard. This man knew his wife? Had spoken to his wife? Had seen his wife? He had had enough, he wanted answers.
Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down Page 9
