He watched while the rest of the militia folk filtered into a long hallway. The group comprised young folks and adults, between the ages of sixteen and forty, all of them able-bodied and lean.
“Follow me.” The leader took the twins down the hall and guided them into a side room.
Inside lay tables and racks full of clothes: blue jeans, T-shirts, button up flannels, jogging pants, tennis shoes, boots, and undergarments still in their plastic packages.
Jenny immediately browsed the racks and tables. “End of the world shopping,” she mused.
“What’s your name?” Randy asked as he sorted through a pile of blue jeans.
“I’m John,” the man said. He strode to a rack of tagged clothing, removing a set that must be his personal effects.
“John what?”
“Just John,” he smiled and winked. “John Justjohn.”
Randy blinked and chuckled with grim amusement. “Fair enough, John Justjohn. We’re Jenny and Randy Tucker.”
“Brother and sister?”
“Twins,” Jenny added.
“Well, twins.” John took his clothes to the door and paused. “You’ll be taken to separate rooms. Don’t panic, I just want to talk to you one-on-one.”
Randy nodded. “What about Tricia?”
“I’ll make sure she gets some attention for that wound,” John said, pointedly, “then I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
“Treat her well.” His jaw worked back and forth, his words sounding like a threat.
“That’s up to her,” John said with a shrug and no further explanation. “You folks take your time. Just be aware I’ve got guards stationed outside the doors. Don’t sneak out.”
With that, John left the twins to sort through the clothing of a lost and fading world.
Chapter 6
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Indianapolis, Indiana
Randy waited in a compact meeting room for two hours with only a bottled water to keep him company. His forehead rested on the edge of the table as he stared down at the interlocking square design on the corporate-style carpet, trying not to worry about Tricia and Jenny.
He assumed the building must be a combination warehouse-office facility, sealed tight against the deadly spores outside. A thousand questions rolled around in his brain as he waited for John. He suspected the man would ask for secrets about the Colony, though Randy had none that Tricia couldn’t tell him.
Drifting off into a half-sleep, Randy relived their escape from Odom’s soldiers and the insane drive through the suburbs in the military truck. In the dream, he shifted gears and popped the clutch, causing the truck to lurch and squeal. The motion made him jerk from a dead sleep, eyes shooting open to find himself sitting in the office alone. With a shake of his head, Randy spotted a puddle of drool on the table where his mouth had rested.
At that moment, the door opened, and John poked his head in.
“Sorry it took so long,” John said. He wore jeans, a brown T-shirt, and a pair of brown hiker’s shoes. “Like I promised, I saw to Corporal Ames and then had a pleasant chat with your sister.”
Randy swiped his arm across the puddle of drool and wiped it away. “That’s okay, as long as everything is fine.”
John nodded and looked up with pursed lips. “I had a brief chat with both ladies, after we got that pesky bullet out of Tricia’s leg.”
“You operated on Tricia?”
“We don’t have surgeons, yet,” John said as he pulled a chair out across from Randy and sat. “But it will become a possibility in the near future. For now, we have a decent staff who can perform some emergency medical procedures. Removing bullets has become a specialty. We offered to knock Corporal Ames out, but she only allowed a topical anesthetic. It took a lot of digging to get the slug out, and we’re happy to report no serious damage.” John smiled widely and clapped his hands together once. “She took two Tylenol 3s and answered all my questions. That’s one tough, smart girl.”
Randy’s skin crawled listening to John talk about digging around in Tricia’s leg for the bullet. “She’s tough,” he admitted. “She helped us escape when the going got tough.”
“Speaking of which,” John said, leaning forward with a curious expression. “Tell me about your escape.”
“I’m sure Tricia and Jenny already covered it with you.”
“Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from your own mouth.”
Randy recounted his tale from the very beginning, starting with the morning he and Jenny had sat on the picnic table and watched the Harvest Guard spray from the nozzles over their family’s crops. He told John about the blossom of spore clouds and subsequent death of his mother and father, and how they’d hidden in the truck until the spore dust settled.
Over the next ten minutes, Randy told their story all the way through their battle with the inmate, Krumer.
“That guy sounds like an animal,” John said, looking amazed.
“Tell me about it.” Randy raised up and touched his jaw where the inmate had struck him. “At least he won’t mess with anyone else ever again.”
“You should be proud of yourself,” John said, and he turned sideways in his chair and crossed his legs. “You stepped up when it counted.”
“It wasn’t like we had a choice,” he admitted. “We had to fight or die.”
“Still...” John let the word linger before he finished. “You and your sister showed a lot of guts.”
Pride swelled in his chest, and he nodded to acknowledge the compliment.
“Do you think the sheriff had the right idea, keeping all the prisoners locked up?”
“He should have released the less violent offenders and kept the hardened criminals in jail,” Randy answered. "It would have been easier for him and the staff.”
“The sheriff didn’t want to do that?” John sounded less like an interrogator and more like a counselor or friend, and the soft tone of his voice put him at ease.
“I understood his reasoning.” Randy raised his eyes. “The man had a strong sense of duty, and he didn’t want to shirk his responsibilities.” He tapped his finger on the table with a sudden realization. “The sheriff tried to force the world to bend to his will, and he resisted the changes happening all around him. He refused to adapt.”
“That’s an astute observation,” John said with a nod. “What happened next?”
Randy launched into the part where they’d stumbled into the Colony and Jergensen shot one of her prisoners when he mentioned her illness.
John’s expression dropped, and the man held his forehead with a soft intake of breath, as if something pained his heart.
Randy hesitated. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, please go on,” John said, though the sound of his voice held a rough edge caught somewhere between grief and anger.
“You knew the person Jergensen shot, right?” Randy risked angering the leader, but he had no reason to skirt the truth now.
John nodded. “I did. She was a skillful fighter, and a good friend.”
“It’s my fault,” Randy said, remembering his dread when Jergensen pulled the trigger. “I’m so sorry, man.”
John raised in his seat and jabbed a finger at Randy. “It’s not your fault. Jergensen was ill and on the decline. I thought the fungus might be making her crazy.”
“We noticed that, too. The guy I told you about who killed Jenny’s friend? The fungus got inside his brain or something. He was acting strange when I finally...when I put him down.”
John nodded, ignoring Randy’s admitting to killing the man. “I heard of studies done on people with fungal infections. The infection can hamper judgment if left alone too long.”
Randy stared at the leader. The man looked lean and mean like a soldier, yet his green eyes held quiet intelligence that grew more obvious the longer he spent with him.
“What are you?” Randy asked.
“I’m a guy named John.”
“No, what were you before all thi
s? What did you do for a living?”
John chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I’ve seen a lot,” Randy laughed and held his arms wide. “Try me.”
John smiled. “I am, I was, a high school janitor.”
“A janitor?” He scoffed. “You don’t look like a janitor, man. I mean, it’s only been three weeks since the fungus broke loose, and I saw you with your shirt off. How are you so muscular? Tell me you’re not drinking protein shakes in the apocalypse.”
A full belly-laugh escaped the man. “Hardly. I competed in half-marathons and special events. I guess you could call running my hobby, one I took seriously.”
“That makes sense,” Randy said.
John leaned forward, his green eyes bright in the white starkness of the room. “Now, tell me about the Colony.”
Randy shrugged, no longer defensive or fearful about John. He told the man every detail about meeting Tricia (leaving out his feelings for her), their first few scavenging runs, and their run-ins with Odom. Randy recalled speaking with Jergensen, and how the woman had presented a human side. John nodded and expressed a hint of sadness at that. Randy finished with Jergensen’s death and their escape from the Colony into the surrounding suburbs.
“The Colony will be a madhouse with their loss of leadership,” John’s expression grew worried.
“Odom will get control quick.”
The man shook his head. “A lot of people will die.”
“I can see that,” Randy conceded. “Maybe someone will take him out.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” John’s lips twisted in thought. “I’ll increase surveillance and monitor the situation.” He snapped out of it and slapped his hand lightly on the table. “In the meantime, you’re more than welcome to stay. Both you and your sister.”
“You’re saying we passed your test?”
“You don’t seem threatening.” John stood. “Just don’t prove me wrong.”
“What about Tricia?”
“Come on,” John smiled. “I’ll take you out with the others.”
Randy stood, feeling sheepish but wanting to test his standing with the man. “Jenny and I considered striking out on our own.”
John paused next to the door with his hand on the knob. He glanced back over his shoulder. “That’s up to you. Just don’t go near the Colony or rejoin them. If we catch you back there...” He left the threat linger.
Randy nodded in understanding. “No, I get it. If we left, we’d go west. Like, way out west.”
“Not a terrible idea,” John said. “In the meantime, you’re more than welcome to get something to eat and rest until you make your decision. Follow me.”
He fell in behind the leader as they walked down the hall. Armed guards nodded as they passed, and Randy narrowed his eyes as they approached the door at the end of the hall. The ground rumbled beneath his feet, and a distant din grew in volume the closer they came.
“Before we left, Tricia mentioned some rogue groups running rampant around the city,” he said, “but none of them were threatening to the Colony unless they joined forces. Are you one of those groups?”
John cocked an eyebrow. “What else did she say?”
“She said each group had upwards of a hundred people, and you were fighting with the Colony over the scraps of the city. She called it a war.”
They reached the door, and John leaned against the panic bar, partially turning toward Randy. “She’s half right. There is a war, but there aren’t multiple factions. There’s only one.”
John pushed through the door, and the sounds of cranking machines and shouts washed over them in a wave of noise. Randy stepped across the threshold into a warehouse that stretched on forever. Huge vents in the ceiling pumped air through the facility, yet no one wore face masks or coveralls. To Randy’s left, people brought product through the decontamination areas and stacked them on skids. Forklifts pulled up, grabbed the skids, and stacked them in rows on the other side of the warehouse. Others took inventory and helped sort through the goods.
There were at least three hundred people hustling to get jobs done.
“Is this your main facility?” Randy asked in awe.
John stood with his hands on his hips and a wide smile on his face as he surveyed the scene. People waved or nodded as they walked by, giving the leader a healthy amount of respect. “No. We’re one of the major hubs forming up on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Forgive me if I don’t give you specific numbers and locations.” The leader winked at him.
“No problem. I’m amazed at what you’ve done, and I’ve got a thousand questions.”
“Save them,” John replied, then he pointed at a stripe of yellow tape on the floor that angled off to the right. “Follow the yellow tape all the way around the outside. Jenny and Tricia are waiting for you at the end.”
“Who are you people?”
“We don’t have a name.” John backed away. “The Colony calls us the Walmart People since we had our first big fight with them there. I don’t like it. Maybe you can help think of a better one.”
With a good-natured smirk, Randy turned and followed the yellow line. It led him along the edge of the warehouse where he passed several doors sealed tight with weather stripping and caulk. The ceiling lights hung forty feet above his head, and John’s people had blacked the windows and sealed them with tape around the edges.
The four forklifts buzzed back and forth across the warehouse floor and never stopped. Randy wondered how many scavenging teams they must have to bring in such a steady flow of material. It dwarfed the Colony’s intake, and Randy realized how paltry the Colony forces were in comparison.
Randy nodded to workers as he passed, drawing closer to an area cordoned off with modular walls. The smells of cooking food touched his nose, and his stomach rumbled in response. He’d been on Colony rations for almost a week, and he’d only had double rations once. As a bigger guy, Randy needed the extra calories, and he could eat like a horse if the opportunity presented itself.
He entered the cafeteria through a gap in the modular walls, eyes roaming across a dozen tables occupied with a smattering of people of varying ages. Many wore work-style coveralls with back braces and other protective gear. Others conversed and dined on food taken from a chow line over near the wall. It was nothing like the Colony where soldiers watched over people’s shoulders to ensure everyone adhered to rationing rules.
He started toward the chow line when a familiar voice called out.
“Randy, over here.”
Randy’s head flinched right, and he spotted Jenny and Tricia sitting alone at a table. His grin widened at seeing them, and Jenny rose out of her seat and threw her arms around her brother’s neck. Tricia remained sitting, though her expression softened with relief when he met her eyes.
“How’d it go with John?” Jenny asked, eyes searching his face.
“It went fine,” he admitted as he took a seat at their table. “He said we’re free to stay or go as long as we stay clear of the Colony. What do you think we should do?”
“If we stay, they’ll want us to work,” Tricia said, “which will be hard for me.”
The soldier looked pale, and she leaned to her left on the booth-style seat to avoid putting weight on her injured leg. A crutch rested against the modular wall nearby.
“I heard they took the bullet out,” Randy winced. “I’ll bet that hurt.”
“It was lodged in the muscle,” Tricia shrugged. “Not a big deal. It aches bad, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ve no doubt.” He gave her an admiring nod.
Tricia wore a pair of gray jogging pants and tennis shoes. Her men’s size extra-large Indianapolis Colts T-shirt hung off her shoulders.
“Did you get one of them?” Tricia asked before taking a sip from a plastic cup filled with a carbonated fountain beverage.
“Get one of who?” Randy asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Whe
n you pulled that stupid stunt back in the subdivision.”
It took him a moment to figure out what she meant, then he remembered the woods and his charge down the center of the firing line to take out that woman soldier peeking around the tree. “Stupid? It was awesome and brave.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “You almost awesomely got yourself killed.”
“I had to do it,” he said. “They were flanking us, so I took the fight to them.” His eyes slid back and forth between the two young women. “I did the right thing, right?”
Tricia stared at him for a moment before replying. “It wasn’t the wrong thing, at least. Glad you made it.”
Randy sat back and let his pleased amusement show.
“Oh, great,” Jenny exclaimed. “That won’t go to his head.”
He wiped the grin off his face and gave the chow line a serious glance. “Hey, can we eat?”
“No one said we couldn’t,” Tricia said, shifting herself to stand.
“No, I’ll get it.” Randy stood and gestured for Tricia to remain sitting.
“Thanks,” Tricia said with a lingering look. “I’ll be here. Unless I decide to go dancing or something.”
“We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Jenny stood in agreement. “And we can’t do it on empty stomachs.”
Chapter 7
Moe Tsosie, Window Rock, Arizona
Moe stood on his mother’s front porch, his front porch, and waited for the group to arrive. Being on the northeastern side of town near the canyons, he’d volunteered his house to be a gathering point prior to their excursion to Window Rock.
His backpack rested in the seat of his mother’s old rocker, and his old four-wheeler sat in the yard. He’d taken the vehicle out of storage and spent the afternoon changing the spark plugs and oil before running it through some preliminary paces. The vehicle hummed like a champ.
He sipped water as he stared out at the arid Arizona landscape. While the rest of the United States had experienced a particularly wet spring, little of that had touched Chinle. The land rolled away from him like a parched tongue, and scrub brush and dried-up riverbeds marred the ground.
Spore Series | Book 3 | Fight Page 4
