Anything was possible these days.
The place looked like it should be condemned. It was on its last legs for sure, and probably would have been a place of last resort for many. He hadn’t been kidding when he had told Anna to shoot him before sending him off to a facility like this on his old age. If they even had nursing homes in the future.
He would make sure Jaredsted had a good one.
He didn’t want to call out for fear of drawing in the Defiled, as Stewart called them. It seemed to be an uncannily accurate identifier for the muties, and much more badass than just plain old mutie. Harder to say in an emergency situation though.
He realized his mind was running off on tangents again and brought his focus back to the present. One day his crazy divergences would probably get him killed or seriously injured. Then Anna really would kick his ass.
He walked through the gate after checking there was nothing waiting behind the fence. It seemed clear. There was a large, overly full dumpster at the end of the small parking lot. He supposed something could be hiding behind it, or more disgustingly, in it. He would have to take that chance.
When he looked back up, he saw that he had some takers.
A window on each end of the second story had been opened. He saw rifle barrels pointed down at him from each side but couldn’t tell exactly what they were. It didn’t matter really.
The front door opened under the ancient portico, and he saw that the doors had been barricaded with some kind of steel bars and plywood. Probably a good idea, but he didn’t know why anyone would want to fortify this shithole.
A middle-aged woman dressed in old, faded scrubs came out. She was careworn and tired. He suspected that she had probably once worked here. Why she would come back was a mystery.
She stopped ten feet away from him and spoke up after looking at him and their vehicles carefully. He saw that she carried a crowbar in one hand.
“I have men with guns upstairs. If you make any wrong moves, they’ll kill you and your people.” Her voice wavered a little, but he didn’t know if it was from tiredness, fear, or adrenaline. Maybe all three.
“We were passing through and saw movement here. We just wanted to see if you needed any help. We took out a crowd of muties outside your fence.” He hoped she would be grateful enough not to have him killed on the spot. She looked relatively sane.
“We saw. Though if you think that was all of them, you’re sorely mistaken. We don’t have much time,” she said nervously looking around.
So, the trembling in her voice was fear. Just not of him.
“How many more are there?” he asked.
“Legions,” she whispered. She was serious.
Okaaaayy, that was a little dramatic, but whatever. He could understand the sentiment.
“I saw one on your truck,” she said suspiciously. “It was just standing there, then it got in. Did you kill it?”
He shook his head. “No. That one is different. It’s a long story. He was our friend. He got sick and turned, then turned again. He’s…not violent. He knows who he is.”
She frowned but shook her head in understanding. “We had one like that, an old one. He got sick, then turned suddenly, knew who we were. He was old though and didn’t live long. The change didn’t stop him from dying of his disease.”
“We need to go. Are you guys safe here?” he asked.
The lack of ambient noise was wearing on his nerves. He thought she noticed it too.
“We’re running out of food. We’ve been trapped here by them for weeks now. We’ve been rationing, but…there’s nothing left to ration anymore. We aren’t going to make it much longer.”
“Look, I need to discuss this with my people. We need to change a tire as well. Are there any mechanics shops around here? Anywhere that might carry large truck tires?” he asked.
She nodded. “About a quarter mile down the road. Make a left. It’s a small shop, but it should have something. You’ll need to hurry. They gather at dust.”
His mind flashed back to the armory in Thompsonville. The way the biters had swarmed the place at night. The people who died because of it. The guilt he felt at their deaths. He was almost certain that the attack that night had been his fault. He breathed deeply before replying.
“We’ll go and come back. Can we stay here through the night? Perhaps you guys can come with us tomorrow, somewhere safer and more well-stocked.”
“You can stay here tonight, but we can’t leave. There are too many here, and most aren’t ambulatory.” She sighed and ran a hand through her short graying hair. “I have to stay here for them. They have nobody else.”
“How many people are here?” he asked, hoping like hell the number wasn’t too large.
“There are thirty-seven residents left here. We lost some, from illness and from other complications. Some ran out of meds. It’s been…rough. This is all we have though. Many have been here so long that they won’t leave.”
“Their families haven’t come for them?” He looked around nervously.
“Some. Most haven’t and probably won’t. They want to live out their days here.” She shrugged. “Go on and get your tires. We’ll be waiting when you come back. Watch the herds. They may be moving already.”
“We’ll be back soon…”
“Grace,” she supplied.
“Alright then Grace. Sit tight.”
◆◆◆
He explained the situation to Bradley before regaining his place in the driver’s seat. Anna looked skeptical about leaving them all here when they left, but he made her understand.
They couldn’t take a bunch of unwilling old folks from the only homes they had on a thousand-mile road trip to a war zone. They were better off here.
“Is that it?” Anna asked, pointing to an old weather-beaten sign. “Graves Auto Shop.”
“Somehow I don’t think their service is so excellent anymore,” Jared said, commenting on the signs promise.
“Beware. They’re coming soon now,” Stewart said. “Masses, many masses. We haven’t got much time.”
Jared huffed out a breath at his drama. “Time enough to find a tire and get back to the old folks?”
“If you hurry. The building is clear.”
Jared jumped out and held up a hand for Bradley to stay. He was going to take the tire back to the nursing home and change it there tomorrow.
Presuming they were still alive tomorrow.
The body shop was dark inside, but he trusted Stew’s word. His flashlight illuminated tall racks of tires, new and used. He eyeballed them all, looking for one similar to his. When he found a few, he checked the numbers on the side. He found two that would work and decided to take them both.
He rolled one down and out the door, manhandling it up into the back of the truck as Anna stood on the running bars and looked around for trouble. Bradley came out and helped him with the second one. The whole trip took less than twenty minutes and was much less dramatic than he’d been expecting.
He drove back, looking for signs of the impending siege and saw none. Yet. He knew it didn’t mean anything. Stewart seemed to be a more reliable indicator than his own senses.
“They’re coming,” Stewart said.
His peculiar—and frightening— voice sounded unconcerned. He didn’t know if Stew was incapable of showing emotion, or just unpracticed, but he didn’t seem at all worried. That worried Jared.
“How long?” Anna asked, clenching her fists.
“Ten minutes, maybe less,” Stewart said.
“Shit,” Jared murmured. “We still need to carry in our supplies too.”
He drove back to the nursing home as fast as he dared. The gate was open and there were two people waiting at the door. He pulled in right under the portico and hoped them damned thing wouldn’t collapse on his truck overnight. Bradley spun the SUV around and backed in perpendicular to Jared’s truck.
Anna hopped out and grabbed her gear and a box of their supplies. She directed Ste
wart and the occupants of the nursing home watched nervously as he rapidly emptied their supplies from Jared’s truck.
Jared passed Fletch, who had detached the machine gun from its mount in the back of the SUV and carried it inside. Bradley carried in a few of their Jerry cans of water, then went back for the ammo.
The minutes were ticking off rapidly and Jared felt his anxiety compound. Now, the oddness of the day was overshadowed by the soon to be arriving army of muties. It wasn’t going to be a fun night.
“Inside. Now. There is no more time.” Stewart leapt to the top of the portico and out of sight. Jared had assumed that he would be coming in with them. He hoped old Stew would be all right out here.
He herded the others inside and made sure the trucks were both locked. He didn’t know if the muties would notice the trucks, or what they meant. He hoped not.
That would be a real clusterfudge, as Anna would say.
The doors closed behind him, and he heard heavy bars falling into place. Someone had done an exceptional job outfitting them with secure barricades. He quickly noted the shabby foyer in the fading light. There were two wings to the place, one to the left and one to the right. Grace led them to the left. She walked swiftly down the very dimly lit corridor.
It looked like a typical old institutional hall. The walls were a yellowed white. Handrails ran the length of the hall. He smelled the stench of urine and used incontinence pants. It was to be expected in the best of times in a place like this, but the dwindling supplies had probably made it much, much harder, if not impossible to keep conditions sanitary.
He felt a wave of despair. The atmosphere was desolate. This was a waiting room of death, and not a comfortable one. Their numbers would eventually dwindle, before disappearing altogether. Grace, by virtue of being the youngest and probably healthiest, would be left here. If she made it.
If something happened to her, the people here would die. It wouldn’t be an easy death.
Anna clutched his hand and he squeezed it. She was thinking the same things. He promised himself that he would do what he could for these people before they left. If he had to delay their journey to Colorado, then he would.
He swallowed and took shallow breaths through his mouth to allay some of the odors.
Finally, they reached the end of the hall and it opened up into a large room. It looked to have once been a storage area of some kind, but someone…Grace probably, had turned it into a gathering place. He noted the lack of windows and only one door. That was both a blessing and a curse he supposed. The lack of windows was good, but the one doorway bothered him.
If something got in, they’d be trapped.
He supposed for them it didn’t matter too much, though he felt bad thinking it. They wouldn’t be running far, if at all, and where could they go?
But for his people, it was a death trap.
“Everyone, these people are here to visit a bit. They’re going to help us out with food. Uh…”
“Jared,” he told her, speaking so the room could hear him, if they still had hearing aid batteries, without alerting anything that could be lurking outside. “And this is Anna, Bradley, and Fletch,” he added, gesturing to each person in turn.
He supposed they must have made a strange sight, dressed in their combat gear and carrying a variety of weapons.
“Fletch and I are going to bring the supplies back here, in case they breach the doors. We can set the fifty up in the hall to cover the entrance. We can take turns patrolling and taking watch.”
Jared nodded and they left. Anna stood next to him, and they weren’t quite sure what to do next. He looked at her and she shrugged.
Thirty-some odd eyes rested on them, the ones that weren’t napping in their wheelchairs anyway. Their arrival seemed to have perked some of them up. It was disconcerting to have so many people looking at him. He didn’t know what to say. He looked to Grace.
“Uh, Mr. Gardner here is our resident sniper,” she offered, leading them to a man in a wheelchair nearby. Jared did a double take.
He had an old M1 Garand across his lap.
Well, damn…
The man held out a hand. “Call me Albert.”
Jared shook it. “Nice M1. Original?”
“Bet your boots. Went and bought it after I got back from the war. Just like the one I carried.” He patted the wood stock affectionately. Jared understood him perfectly.
“I like it. I suppose it was you that had a bead on me earlier?”
“Yep.”
“Good. I’m glad you guys have some security. How’d you like to have a few more weapons and some ammo?”
“I’d like it mighty fine. The truth of the matter is…well, I’ve only got a few rounds for this old thing. Wasn’t planning on an apocalypse when I had my son bring up it. I just wanted to hang it on the wall to look at.”
He leaned in closer. “The administrators here at Spring Creek kind of frowned on me having a rifle here at all, but they allowed it. They didn’t know I had bullets for it.” He chuckled and sat back in his chair again.
“Who is the other sniper?” Jared asked, gesturing to the other upstairs wing.
“Nobody. Just an old broomstick we painted black. I’m it.”
Jared again felt a wave of sadness for these people. He smiled back and nodded before returning to Anna.
“Let’s find the food and dole some of it out to whomever wants it. We have plenty and can scavenge more on the way if we need to. These people can’t.”
She nodded and had a word with Grace before following.
They passed Bradley and Fletch in the halls. Bradley’s face was grim. “It doesn’t look good,” was all he said.
He needn’t say more, Jared knew what he meant. He meant the herd outside, and also these folks here. The foreboding feeling hadn’t left him, any of them, it had only intensified. It was like being surrounded by people marked for death, only you didn’t know when they would die, or how, or if you’d be joining them.
They were pretty much dead already. Ghosts. Shades from another lifetime. He rubbed at the tightness in his throat that thought had caused.
They brought back two crates of canned foods. Beans, veggies, fruit, some potted meats, and soup. It would be easy for the old folks to eat and would hopefully last them a while with careful rationing. Still, over thirty people required a lot of food, even thirty old people.
A shameful thought crossed his mind...the thought that the food was wasted on these people. They were consumers. They didn’t provide any benefits to the group.
As horrible as he felt for thinking it, he knew it was true. They had some knowledge that would be useful, but they couldn’t do anything physical. They consumed more than they provided. Their generation had been the most numerous in this country, and if they still were, they would deplete the available food stores that were better left to the younger people.
He sighed and kept that in mind for later.
He would feed these people, because it was the right thing to do and his conscience wouldn’t allow him to let them starve, but they were going to have to seriously consider this question in the near future. Was it right to sacrifice food that would be better served going to the children? If he had to choose, he knew what his choice would be.
Thank God he didn’t have to choose.
“Jared?” Anna said, laying a hand on his back.
He flinched a bit, not expecting the touch. He had to stop getting lost in his thoughts. It was happening more frequently, and it could get someone hurt or killed. There was no room for mistakes, not anymore.
“I’m okay. Did Grace get the food passed out to everyone?” he asked.
“Yep. She thinks it will last a week, maybe. If they’re careful.”
“Jesus,” he breathed. “One week.”
The food that would have lasted them a month or more, gone in a week. It hurt. He consoled himself with the knowledge that there were still plenty of places that had untouched food stores. It w
ould be dangerous getting them though.
“We still have the MREs,” she said.
“Yeah,” was all he said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sound of Silence
Anna
That night, the sound of milling monsters drifted through the walls of the old folk’s home, telling Anna all she needed to know about the size of the herd. She supposed Stew was somewhere safe, or perhaps the others didn’t even mind him being out there. She would have to ask when she saw him again.
Jared, Bradley, and Fletcher were uncharacteristically quiet. She caught them murmuring together in the hall several times as she patrolled the small area. She checked the residents’ rooms to make sure nothing was getting in through the windows, but they seemed to be secure enough…for now.
Every time she happened upon the men, they quieted down. She had a feeling they didn’t want her to hear what they were saying. It was suspicious, and it hurt. She didn’t want to be left out of whatever they were planning, and the fact they hadn’t mentioned it to her meant they knew she wouldn’t like it. If they were planning anything.
She could just be paranoid, but she didn’t think so.
The residents seemed more comfortable speaking to her than the men. She helped Grace with the chores, though she wasn’t comfortable tending to their…bodily functions. She did help them eat, listened to their stories, and gave them news of the outside world.
She took notes on the supplies they wanted and needed. Several mentioned the sheer boredom of the place. She thought maybe they would enjoy some books, if an opportunity arose for her to pick some up. Maybe some games, puzzles, or other entertainment. She would have to see where the men decided to get their supplies.
She looked out down the hallway again as the men stood up from their impromptu powwow and went to patrol the rest of the nursing home. Jared looked back at her once and waggled his eyebrows at her, suggestively jerking his head toward the nearest resident room.
The Salvation Plague | Book 2 | The Mutation Page 20
