Anxiety: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Agora Virus Book 2)

by Jack Hunt

  One by one his cousins came out with boxes of goods and loaded them onto the back trailers hooked up to ATV’s. All the while Butch sat by, smoking a cigarette. He gazed around at the island with a deep sense of pride. It had been years since his family had owned the entire island. Honestly, he wasn’t too sure at what point the property changed hands. The Evertson family had originally purchased it back in 1831 for a measly $15,000. They had owned it for forty years. At some point between then and now, the Guthrie family purchased it; at least that’s what his grandfather had told him. Whether it was true or not, mattered little to him. But, he took his grandfather at his word. He wasn’t a man to lie. And he would challenge anyone who refuted his claim. At some point, parts of the island were sold off leaving a large section of private property on the west side. That still belonged to them, but the rest was up for grabs and rich folk looking to impress friends had snapped it up.

  The ATV’s roared to life and tore away, leaving huge muddy ruts in the front of Tom’s yard. Before Butch left he shouted over his shoulder. “Oh, we plan to hold weekly meetings over at Dodge Hall. I expect you to be there. And if you’re religious, you can use the Methodist church across the street from the community center. All tithes go to me.”

  He let out a chuckle and pulled away with his girlfriend Misty on the rear seat.

  Six

  Butch Guthrie felt like a king back at the farm. The home itself was over 7,000 square feet, made of pine and fir flooring. In his opinion it had one of the best views of river, meadowlands, and beach. With nine bedrooms, three fireplaces, and four full bathrooms it had more than enough space for his family.

  For years, they had been inviting people out to the island to get ready for the big one, and now that it had hit, where were they? Most of the people that signed up for his retreats came from all over the United States. Smart folk. People he would have gladly shared his home with, the kind of people he could have used.

  While he had his brothers and cousins with him, several other families who had lived in Clayton joined him there. Trustworthy, hard-working, and loyal. Each of them had gone through his course and were willing to do whatever it took to survive. With close to twenty of them ready to fight at the drop of a hat, he felt safe sleeping at night and calling the shots on the island.

  Though his brother Bret was worried that cops would eventually show up, he didn’t have any doubt in his mind about how things would play out. Within the first forty-eight hours after folks in Clayton started to become infected and die, he knew it wasn’t going to get any better.

  While he wouldn’t have thought twice about putting a slug in a cop’s head, he wasn’t going to jump the gun on this one. Misty had kept him in check and made sure that he stayed level-headed. That was the only reason he hadn’t resorted to violence. But he would if anyone got out of line.

  He breathed in deeply the salty air and looked out across the lush green landscape, taking in the sight of his kingdom. That’s exactly how he saw it. He’d always resented the fact that he had to share the island with others. He’d considered getting a smaller plot of land, like some of his friends, and Frank Talbot, but there was something about the history of Grindstone that he loved.

  Butch snorted at the thought of Talbot. What a pathetic sight that was. Leaving Gloria alone. That one had been too easy. In fact, he was impressed at what they had managed to haul away from the property. Compared to some of the idiots living on this island, he made their storage units look pathetic. In some ways, he kind of regretted taking all that he had from him. Not that he’d mention it to anyone. Staying in control, or at least giving the perception that he was in control was important.

  He smirked, relishing the thought of Gloria’s face. The shock. The surprise.

  Butch sipped on his cold beer, while sitting comfortably in an Adirondack chair and basking in what he had established. His thoughts drifted back to his visit.

  “Hello, Gloria.”

  “Let go of my kids.”

  He shifted from one foot to the next and put his hand out. “Now, now settle down. No one is going to get harmed.” He grinned. “Where’s Sal? Frank?”

  “They’ve gone into town. They’ll be back soon, so you better let my kids go or I’ll…”

  She lunged forward but Dougie grabbed a hold of her hair and she let out a scream.

  “Oh now, be gentle with her, Dougie. We aren’t here to harm anyone.” He glanced around suspiciously. “So what did they go to get?”

  She shrugged. “Supplies.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  He eyed her. The way her eyes shifted back and forth. “You’re not very good at lying, are you, Gloria?”

  “What do you want?” she spat back.

  “What do you think?”

  Gloria smoothed out her outfit and Butch chuckled. “Please. Gloria, I’m not that desperate. Where’s the storage area?”

  When she didn’t reply, he got real close to her and ran a cupped hand over her cheek, down her neck, and across her breast. She grimaced at his touch.

  He leaned in and spoke quietly in her ear. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  “Down in the basement.”

  He gave a nod to Bret and Misty and they headed down to start gathering whatever they could find. Butch sucked air between his teeth, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He blew some smoke near Gloria’s face just to irritate her. She was such a prissy little bitch. How the hell Sal put up with her was beyond him. He often overheard him chatting to Frank about her when they visited the store. That was part of the reason he never put a ring on Misty’s finger. Marriage fucked things up. Changed the dynamics of the relationship. It made people go crazy and think they could do whatever the hell they wanted. It gave people a sense of entitlement. Nah, he wasn’t playing those games. As long as he had a warm bit of ass at the end of the night, that was all he cared about.

  Bret soon returned bearing gifts. He raised up several bags of rice, and bags of potatoes.

  “Seriously, Butch. You should go see what this crazy fucker has got. He has more hand sanitizer than a sex shop. We hit the mother lode on this one.”

  He flashed a toothy grin to Gloria before taking another puff on his cigarette.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Gloria said. Dougie had a tight grip on her arm and still she struggled to get loose. Butch nodded to him.

  “It’s okay, Dougie, let her go.”

  She went to move towards her children but he put his hand up, and made a tutting sound.

  “What about weapons?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you telling me they left you all alone without a weapon?”

  “We didn’t expect assholes like you to show up.”

  Butch bit on the bottom of his lip while studying her face. “How about I let Dougie here take you outside and show you some manners?”

  Dougie started chuckling. “Yeah, let me do that, Butch.” He reached over and grabbed her by the ass. She spun around and tried to hit him but he pushed her back. Butch went to intervene but she spat in his face and began yelling.

  “You come in here and lay hands on my children. You take what doesn’t belong to you. You’re all cowards.”

  Slowly, Butch wiped his cheek and then licked the back of his hand to taste her spit. “Sweet.”

  In an instant, he lashed out and slapped her across the cheek and she fell to the floor. She started sobbing. Her kids began to cry but Joey and Dusty held them back.

  Butch loomed over her and wagged his finger in her face. “Show some respect. Your old man might not stand up to you but I sure as hell will.”

  Cowering on the floor gripping her cheek she yelled back. “And that makes you a man? Hitting a woman. Scaring children.”

  He squinted and grinned, then wagged his finger in the air. “See, that’s what I like about you, Gloria. You don’t give an inch. I can see why Sal walks around with his balls in his purse. You wear the pants,
don’t you?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He shook his head. Then just like that he breathed in deeply and smiled. “Come now. Let’s get you up and cleaned off. This is going to be over very soon but let’s not have any more disrespect. I won’t tolerate it.” As he helped her up, an image of his own father doing the same thing to his mother and saying the very same words briefly flashed across his mind.

  She shot back. “When Sal gets back, you’re—”

  Butch gripped her arm tight and cut her off. “Yeah?”

  She swallowed her tears, her lip quivered, and she looked as if she was about to say something. Her face was red and her hair a tattered mess. He smoothed it out and she tried to back away from his touch.

  “Right, boys, haul it out. And let the woman have her children back.”

  The sound of Bret’s voice snapped him out of the past.

  “Butch, can I speak with you for a moment?”

  Bret was the youngest in the family. At twenty-eight years of age he was still very wet behind the ears and it didn’t take much to worry him. Ever since they had arrived, he had been trying to get an answer as to why they needed to take from others when they had more than enough.

  “Sure.”

  Butch got up, carrying his beer into the greenhouse.

  It was true. They didn’t need the extra supplies. For years, his family had been storing away all the essentials that were needed to survive the worst-case scenario. Beneath the farmhouse was a bunker that could protect them from a nuclear attack. They had weapons buried all around the property, and more than enough food to feed their family for at least two years without having to scavenge. The property had several backup generators that could be powered by the sun or by fuel. On the land they had multiple greenhouses for growing their own produce. The major one that they had just stepped into was on the side of the home. It didn’t even look like a greenhouse. It was made to look like an enclosed porch. It produced five times the amount of food that a regular hoop greenhouse could offer and would grow food all year round. It didn’t rely on fertilizer or pesticides and would allow them to grow citrus or coffee trees if they wanted. There was even an area for incubating chickens and ducks.

  The way he saw it, if there was going to be a shortage of food, he sure as hell wasn’t going to suffer.

  “So, what’s on your mind?”

  He looked agitated. “Look, I’ve been thinking.” He paced up and down a little.

  “Shit, Bret, have you been taking LSD or something?”

  “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

  “What don’t you like?” Butch said, leaning against the doorframe.

  “This, taking people’s supplies. They have a right to survive and fend for themselves.”

  “And they will.”

  He shrugged. “So why are we taking them?”

  Butch scoffed, and placed his arm around his brother. “Bret, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Let me lay it out for you. How long do you think it’s going to be before people come knocking on our door asking for handouts? How long do you think it’s going to be before they show up with guns, demanding that we hand over what we have? And I’m not just talking about food and water. Look around you. All of this is a gold mine to the desperate. And believe me, people are going to be desperate. They already are.”

  “But you’re just speeding up that process by taking away what they do have.”

  “This isn’t about taking supplies from people. It’s much more than that. It’s establishing a position. Drawing a line in the sand before people get desperate. It allows them to know that we aren’t going to be fucked with, and let’s face it, the crops we’ll have to produce aren’t going to tend themselves. We are going to have to do it. Do you want to do it?”

  Bret got this nervous look on his face. “I… I don’t get it.”

  He sighed. Trying to get through to him was like speaking to a wall. He was sure he’d been adopted.

  “Look at it this way. Why isn’t everyone rich in the world? Huh? I mean, it would be simple to print off money and distribute it out to individuals. You know… level out the playing field and all. Make sure that everyone has an equal share. But why doesn’t that happen?”

  He shrugged.

  “Who would do anything? Who would make food? Who would do all the shitty jobs that no one else wants to do in the world? No one would do it, if they already had everything they needed. It’s motivation. Simply logic. Come on, walk with me,” Butch said leading him outside again and down to the water’s edge. The waves frothed round the rocks and a breeze blew in. He gazed out across the dark waters towards the island that Frank Talbot owned. He considered what they had done to him.

  “If everyone holds the keys to the kingdom, there is no need for a king, no need for servants, no need for rules to be followed. Everyone would call the shots. Do you know how out of control that would get?”

  “But people would step up. You know, help each other out.”

  He squeezed gently the back of his neck. “And we’re doing that, brother.”

  Bret screwed up his face. “By taking what they have?”

  “By distributing it out fairly. We’re not keeping it all to ourselves. How do I put this? We’re just holding it, like a deposit. Once we see people listening, following directions, and carrying their weight, they will be taken care of. You have my word. And you know about my word, right?”

  “It’s your bond.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a good lad. You’re catching on.”

  Butch pulled out his cigarettes and offered Bret one. He took it and both of them stood there looking out across the water to Clayton.

  “You think mother and father would have approved of this?”

  “You can bet your ass on it. Hell, father wouldn’t have treated Tom Hannigan the way I did. That man is lucky to still be alive.”

  Bret nodded. “So how are you going to do this? I mean, some of those folks who are staying don’t have enough in their cupboards now.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. We will discuss it at the first town hall meeting.”

  Bret scoffed. “You really think people are going to show up to that after what we just did?”

  Butch replied instantly. “If they want to survive they will. C’mon, let’s go.”

  He put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and started leading him back. He had only gone a few feet when he heard the distant sound of a boat engine. Butch glanced over his shoulder and squinted. He cupped a hand over his eyes to block out the morning sun.

  There was a boat coming from Frank Talbot’s island.

  “Huh!”

  “What is it?” Bret asked.

  He continued squinting for a moment as he watched the boat head for the mainland. Had Frank returned or was it someone else?

  Butch shook his head slowly. “I don’t know yet but I’m going to find out.”

  Seven

  The water was choppy on the way over to the marina. Frank had left the others on the island while he and Jameson returned to Clayton to see what firearms they could find. There was a store in town but Jameson said that it was one of the first places to be looted. Seemed everyone had the same idea. Gear up and get ready for the worst.

  “What did your wife do?” Frank asked.

  Jameson gripped the wheel a little harder, making his knuckles go white.

  “She was a teacher. She taught eighth-grade kids.”

  He fixed his face like a flint and the boat burst over a set of solid waves forcing Frank back in his seat. For a small boat it could move surprisingly fast. A light mist hit their faces. The crisp morning air opened up his lungs, and for a few minutes he thought about Kate.

  “What did you tell your daughter about your wife?”

  “The truth. We’ve always been honest with each other. She’s a good kid.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice that she doesn’t look like you.”

  “That’s right.
I’m her stepfather. She still refers to me as her father. The real one ran off with some girl seven years ago. Piece of work he was.”

  Frank nodded and popped an anxiety tablet into his mouth. Jameson noticed and for a short while, he could tell he was biting at the bit to pepper him with questions.

  “So you were seeing Sal?”

  Frank was hesitant to respond. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  “I don’t know… he helped me.”

  “What did you have?”

  “Trouble in my marriage, stress and whatnot.”

  “With Meg?”

  “No, my ex.”

  “Oh, you have one too.”

  Jameson gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah, Sal said you were divorced.”

  “What else did he tell you?”

  “You tend to go a little crazy when you don’t get your meds.”

  He snorted. “Well he isn’t wrong about that. But it’s gotten better.”

  “You sure?”

  “I haven’t had much choice. This whole upheaval has been like a baptism by fire.” He paused for a second. “You sure this guy has weapons?”

  “They might be illegal and we’re liable to get our head shot off but, yeah, if you win him over I’m sure he’ll hook us up.”

  “Us?”

  Jameson cleared his throat. “You seem to have something going here with the island and all. I’ve been cooped up inside that house just waiting for them to show up.”

  “By them you mean?”

  “You know, the looters, home invaders, the Guthries.”

  Frank leaned in a little. “You’ve seen them?”

  “Oh, yeah, I saw them. A few days ago heading into town, starting fires.”

  Frank let out a heavy sigh.

  “You are going to have your work cut out for you if you’re thinking of going over and causing trouble.”

  “I’m not going to cause trouble.”

  “No? So the guns are just for looks?”

  Both of them smirked.

  “So your ex, she local?”