This Shattered Land - 02

by James Cook

  The government was in contact with numerous countries overseas, but had warned them to stay away from the Americas until we could get things a little better under control here. Switzerland, with its mountainous borders and well-armed citizenry, was one of a handful of nations not to succumb to the undead. Australia also survived, as did many small island nations dotted all over the world. The UK looked like a goner for a while there, until they managed to enlist the help of large flotillas of refugees from various European countries fleeing the infection across the ocean. In exchange for their help fighting the undead, the Brits offered safe haven to anyone who could make it to their shores and contribute to the war effort. The Aussies sent them a couple of ships full of supplies and soldiers, and together the allied forces assaulted the legions of undead on two fronts, north and south. They still had a lot of work to do across the pond, but the tide of the battle there had shifted firmly in favor of the living. I just wondered how they planned to feed all of those people once the fighting settled down.

  Hawaii was the only part of the U.S. that came out of the Outbreak relatively unscathed, at least by the undead. Conditions there among the civilian populace were still highly unstable. Without global trade to supply food, materials, and fuel, the Aloha State faced many of the same problems as the rest of the world not currently awash in stumbling, moaning ghouls. Food shortages caused desperate, frightened people to riot, fuel supplies ran out, cars became useless, and limited access to electricity caused thousands of people to have to go without power. People descended in droves on lakes, reservoirs, and rivers, only to see them quickly become polluted and overfished. Even without the dead hunting them, human beings were dying by the thousands for want of basic necessities. Diseases long thought exterminated, or not seen for over a hundred years, raised their ugly heads to make an already terrible situation infinitely worse. As hard as things were in the Appalachians, I did not envy those poor people in the South Pacific.

  No one spoke for a few moments. The bright, festive mood that started out the evening had faded into a somber hush.

  “Listen folks, I don’t mean for all this to be a downer.” I said. “There’s a lot more to talk about, but the world outside of Appalachia isn’t going anywhere. I don’t know about you, but I could go for another steak.”

  Tom looked up and smiled. “You know what, you’re right. We’ve seen enough bad days to last a lifetime. We should take a good one where we can get it. Anybody else still hungry?”

  Gabe raised a hand, smiling. “If you’re dishing it out, I’ll take some more.”

  I smiled. Gabriel’s prodigious appetite was one of the few things in the world that I could always count on. The mood lightened as the evening went on. I ate enough beans and venison to make my waistband cut into my stomach, and everyone else seemed to have a hell of an appetite as well. Life in the high country is tough even at the best of times, and the constant work combined with hiking at least a dozen miles a day over rough terrain seemed to have boosted everyone’s metabolism. I didn’t think we would be able to put away the spread laid out in front of us, but damn if we didn’t pull it off. By the time dinner was over, Brian was scraping the last of the beans out of the pot with a spoon, and lamenting that he didn’t have a crust of bread to sop up the venison juice from the pan.

  Gabe and I pitched in to help clean up. With dishes washed and the table put away, we all settled down around the campfire and traded stories for a while. I had almost forgotten how nice it was to be around other people, and the cool afternoon with the Glovers was a pleasant reminder. All too soon though, the sun began to sink low toward the rolling hills on the western horizon. I nudged Gabe on the arm and nodded toward the fading daylight.

  “Guess we better head back toward home.” I said.

  “Yeah, don’t want to get caught out here after nightfall.” He replied.

  We said reluctant goodbyes and started back toward the cabin. On the way there, I found myself scanning around for signs that anyone else had passed through. I didn’t see anything, but then again, I’m not much of a tracker. Gabe is a lot better at that sort of thing. I told him about my assessment of the Glover’s campsite, and mentioned my concerns about other survivors in the area.

  “You think we should invite them to come and stay with us?” He asked when I finished.

  “If you’d have asked me that question this morning I would have said no, but now…”

  Gabe nodded. “They’re good folks. I think that’s pretty obvious at this point.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think they pose any kind of a threat to us. And honestly, it would be nice to have some other people around. I mean, you’re cool and all, but you’re not much of a conversationalist.”

  Gabe let half a smile sneak by. “I know what you mean.”

  “Tomorrow then?” I asked.

  Gabe nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter 2

  Close Calls

  We paid the Glovers another visit the next afternoon, and made our case for combining our resources. I think they were on the fence for a while, until Gabriel told them about our survival shelter. I suggested that they could have the cabin, and Gabriel and I would sleep in our underground bunker. If they decided they didn’t like the accommodations, they were always free to come back to their original camp anytime they wanted. That seemed to cinch the argument.

  The family followed us down the trail as we headed toward home. I took the lead and held my rifle at the ready on its tactical sling, constantly scanning our surroundings for signs of movement. Tom and his family bent under the weight of their belongings, but made no complaint as we marched through the empty forest. They had obviously seen their share hardship since the Outbreak, and it had toughened them considerably. Even the boy carried his heavy load with a stoic face that was far harder than it ought to be at his age.

  Movement in the high brush ahead of me caught my attention about a half mile from the cabin. I stopped short, holding up a fist to halt the group behind me and motioning for everyone to stay quiet. We kept low and moved to the side of the trail, hiding in the shadows cast by the edge of the forest. The rustling ahead of us got louder until a man lurched into view followed close behind by two others. His feet were bare and torn, and his clothes clung to his body by a few ragged strips that showed pale grey skin beneath. Most of the flesh on his face was gone, revealing black teeth and creeping vines of ligaments and tendons stretched across a bleached skull. He had one milky white eye, and one gaping empty socket. It raised its head and cocked it to the side in a manner eerily similar to that of a dog. The walking corpses behind it stopped and stared, their faces slack and menacing. The one in the lead must have heard us. The infected have an uncanny ability to track people by triangulating the source of a sound. Even several minutes after you make a noise, they can still somehow accurately find the spot where it came from to within a few feet. The ghoul turned in our direction and began to shamble toward us. In a few more steps, he would be over the crest of the hill, and he was going to see us as clear as day. I decided not to give him the advantage of attack.

  I stood up from beside the trail and motioned for Gabriel to follow. Stepping in front of the lead walker, I raised my rifle and took aim at his head. He spotted me with his one remaining eye and let out that damned hideous, gurgling moan that I have come to hate. The two behind him echoed his howl and shuffled forward. Their cloudy, hungry eyes locked on to me as their rotten lips peeled back from blackened teeth in a hiss. I try to sight in through my scope, but they were too close. All I could see was a blurred, shifting image. I cursed, and let my rifle dangle from its sling as I drew my pistol. Long hours of practice let me attach a suppressor from a pouch on my belt in less than five seconds. The fiber-optic sights lined up with the lead ghoul’s forehead. My finger tightened on the trigger and the pistol bucked in my hand with a barely audible crack. A spray of black gore erupted from the back of the creature’s head. I drew a bead on one of the ghouls behind it and
pulled the trigger again just as the first one hit the ground. Gabriel brought up his SCAR and sighted in through the rear aperture of his iron sights. The suppressor on the end of the barrel would keep his shot from being deafening, but it would still be loud. Any other infected within about fifty yards would undoubtedly hear it and start moving in our direction. There was a sharp crack-clang, as the last ghoul’s head flew apart in several directions at once. Gabe and I lowered our weapons and scanned around, watching and listening for movement. We didn’t see anything. I motioned to Tom and his family to follow us, taking point again with Gabe covering our backs.

  We climbed the rest of the way up the hill and rounded a bend where the trail emerged into a clearing. Less than a hundred yards from us was the flat peak of the broad mountain we had been hiking up, and the cabin that my grandfather built over sixty years ago. A couple of infected were stumbling around near the ten-foot steel perimeter fence. I raised my rifle and picked them off before motioning for everyone to proceed. At the fence, I pulled a chain from around my neck and used the key attached to it to unlock the gate. A strong push rolled it aside allowing Gabe to proceed ahead toward the cabin. Tom and his family hesitated for a moment outside the fence, bent beneath the weight of their possessions.

  “Come on,” I said, waving them in. “There might be more infected.”

  They moved. I locked the gate behind them before leading the way to the cabin.

  “Welcome to our bachelor pad.” I said as I took off my pack and placed it against the wall near the entryway.

  The cabin was nothing to write home about. It had maybe a thousand square feet of floor space, and that is being generous. It consisted of three plain, simple rooms. The common room dominated most of the space. A wood-burning stove stood close to the far wall with a tubular metal chimney running up and out through the roof. Two threadbare, mismatched reclining chairs, in which Gabriel and I spent most of the past winter trying to stave off the bitter cold, sat in front of the stove. To the right of the entrance was a wall covered with shelves sagging under the weight of various boxes. To the left, there was a small kitchen and a large plastic barrel where we kept a ready supply of drinking water. Shelves and cupboards lined almost all of the wall space in the cabin. Strings festooned with strips of dried venison draped over the shelves and racks in the kitchen, while canned goods and bundles of wild edibles gathered from the forest filled the shelves.

  Tom and Sarah took a few steps inside. They seemed pleasantly surprised as they looked around. Brian smiled and made a lap around the common room, stopping to touch a few things as he made his circuit. Gabe pointed out where they could put down their tools and supplies. Sarah turned to him as he stripped off his pack and set it against the wall before slipping out of his heavy coat.

  “You can’t seriously expect us to believe that you are just going to give us this place.” She said.

  Gabriel shot me a glance, and we both laughed at the same time. “Actually, ma’am, I do seriously expect you to believe that we are just going to give you this place.” Gabe said, making a whirling gesture with one upraised finger to encompass the room. “Like my friend told you, we’re getting ready to head out to Colorado. We ain’t gonna need this cabin anymore, and there’s no sense in letting it go to waste.”

  Gabriel and I unpacked everyone’s gear while Tom and his wife looked around. Brian squatted down in front of the wood stove and opened it. The door made a high-pitched metallic squeal as it swiveled out.

  “Can we start a fire?” He asked, looking at Gabriel.

  “Brian, don’t be a pest.” His mother said. Gabe laughed and knelt down next to the boy.

  “A fire sounds like a fine idea. Why don’t you help me bring in some firewood?”

  Brian popped to his feet and followed Gabe outside. I could hear them talking as the big man stacked pieces of hickory and cedar in the boy’s arms. Tom took a step closer to Sarah before putting an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and laid her face against his chest, circling her arms around his waist. I caught Tom’s eye, and quietly made my way out the front door. He gave me a grateful look and pointed outside at Brian. I nodded, and gave him a thumbs-up.

  The air outside was crisp, and a wind picked up from the south as I walked out into the pale afternoon light. Normally, that wind would be warm and balmy by this time of year, but lately the breeze had just been cold regardless of what direction it came from.

  Gabe and Brian worked their way down to the end of the cabin along the woodpile. Gabe was pointing out the different types of wood in it, and how to recognize the trees they came from out in the forest. Brian, for his part, actually listened and asked a few questions. He seemed like an intelligent kid. It reminded me that Gabriel was a married man once, but his marriage fell apart because he wanted children, and his ex-wife did not. Looking at my friend talking to Brian, I could not help but think that he would have made a great father. He is a scary looking man, and he has done some bad things in his life, but in spite of that, he still has a big heart. The fact that he values our friendship has always given me confidence that underneath my smart-ass exterior, I am at my core a good and decent man. I walked over to them and patted Gabe on the shoulder.

  “Tom and Sarah are taking a look around inside.” I said, staring hard at Gabe. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Why don’t we show Mr. Brian here the bunker?” He said, reaching down to ruffle the kid’s hair with one huge hand.

  “Sounds like a winner. Come on, kid.” I said. “This is gonna blow your mind.”

  Brian followed along as I walked to the western end of the cabin. I reached down and removed the burlap cloth covering the entrance hatch. Gabe pulled up on the steel handle to reveal the ladder that descended down into the bunker.

  “Whoa.” Brian breathed. “What’s down there?”

  I smiled at him. “Come on down and see. Watch your step on the ladder.”

  I climbed down and picked up a Coleman lantern from a shelf at the bottom of the ladder. Gabriel climbed down after me, laying a steadying hand on Brian’s shoulder as he stepped into the dark room.

  “Hold up a minute, son. Let’s get some light in here.” He said.

  I struck a match against the wall and used it to light the lantern. The white flame flickered for a moment, then grew as I twisted a knob and illuminated the way ahead. I walked over to a laptop on a small table and spent a couple of seconds clicking on activation icons. The bank of batteries under my feet, charged by the solar panels on the cabin’s roof, powered the overhead lights into life. Compact fluorescents kicked on with a few flutters and a faint buzzing sound.

  Brian’s eyes widened as he stepped forward. From where he stood, he saw a wide room like a small warehouse that terminated at a white galvanized steel wall with a door in the center. To his left and right were long rows of shelves that climbed all the way to the ceiling. Most of the shelves contained foodstuffs, tools, raw building materials, and Gerry cans filled with purified water. Several barrels of salt stood in one corner, and on a high shelf next to them were ten steel containers labeled “Treated Gasoline”. The last twenty feet of the wall to our right held a wicked rack of weapons, tactical equipment, and boxes upon boxes of ammunition. Brian stared in wonder as he looked over our arsenal. He reached up a hand toward a Winchester model 70, but Gabe stopped him by placing his massive paw in the way.

  “Easy now, son. Those ain’t toys you’re looking’ at.”

  Brian glanced up, and withdrew his hand.

  “Sorry.” He said. “They just look cool.”

  Gabriel laughed. It sounded like a bunch of rocks rattling around at the bottom of barrel.

  “I agree, little man, but your mother would probably have a fit if I let you mess around with ‘em. We’ll have to teach you proper gun discipline first.”

  We spent a few minutes showing the little guy around the bunker explaining how it worked, and how it interconnected with the cabin’s solar power sys
tem. The boy was surprisingly knowledgeable, and asked questions that I would not have expected from him. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, Gabe and I led him back to the surface. I knocked a couple of times at the cabin before opening the door. It felt a little odd, knocking on the door to my own home, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt be polite. Tom and Sarah were sitting at the kitchen table. Sarah’s smile was genuine and bright as we clomped inside. Brian charged ahead of us and took his mother by the hand.

  “Mom, Dad, you have got to come see this!” He said, beaming.

  “What honey, what is it?” Sarah asked.

  “The bunker I told you about.” Gabe said.

  “Come on, I’ll show you.” Brian tugged her up out of her chair.

  She cast a glance at us as her son led her out the door. Tom got up and followed them. Brian scurried around the cabin dragging Sarah by the hand, stopping to stand over the entrance hatch.

  “It’s down here.” He said, pointing.

  His parents stopped at the edge of the hatch. Their eyes grew wide as they stared down the ladder, and then turned to look at us. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Go on down.” I said. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  Brian scuttled down the ladder with his parents following behind. I glanced over at Gabe and nudged him on the arm with my elbow. He gave a little laugh as we climbed down. When we reached the bottom, Sarah and her husband were looking around in open-mouthed astonishment.