by K. M. Fawkes
He did. But still. “I might go take a look, anyway.”
“Why?” Jack asked, finishing his green beans. “I mean, I don’t wanna sound heartless or anything, but hell—you aren’t going to see him.”
“I know. But I guess I feel like I owe the guy. He really helped me out on our first hunt.”
“Really?” Vance asked. “Caleb did? He’s always been the type to stick to himself.”
Brad shrugged and then glanced around. Everyone around was in in their own conversational groove. No one was looking their way. He leaned in.
“Can I ask you guys something?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice low.
“Sure,” Charlie said, looking a little concerned.
“I heard something when I was out hunting yesterday,” Brad said, making sure not to connect the rumor to Caleb.
“What kinda something?” Vance asked.
“About the people that used to live here.” He took a breath, trying to figure out the most innocuous way to ask the question. “Were they really all dead when the Major found this place?”
Jack nodded. “Yep, that’s how the story goes,” he said. “It was a graveyard when the Major and his soldiers got here.”
“The staff just left those poor old people to die,” Charlie added, shaking her head. “Can you believe that?”
“But…do you really think that’s likely?” Brad pressed as gently as he could.
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked, frowning slightly.
“Well, with all the safe houses that were out there at the beginning…and with this place being so close to Bangor, don’t you think that the soldiers would have moved these people? You know, rather than let them die out here?”
“The soldiers wouldn’t have seen any use for them,” Jack said sadly. “They only wanted the able-bodied to help beef up their ranks.”
“I know the soldiers you’re talking about,” Brad agreed. “But there were good military men left at the beginning. I met some of them in Bangor. This wouldn’t have been out of their way. And I don’t know…don’t you think that Major Walker would have found someone alive? At least a few people, anyway.”
“This was an old folks’ home,” Vance reminded him. “They were so frail that they probably went even faster than the rest of the world.”
“They might have lived in a retirement community, but that doesn’t mean they were helpless,” Brad countered. “Hell, the place has a swimming pool and tennis courts. It’s not like it was a hospital in disguise.” He saw doubt flicker over their faces one by one. “I mean…don’t you think it’s a little strange that everyone here is young?”
“Older people need more tech to survive,” Jack said flatly. “Pacemakers and stuff like that would have been taken out by the EMP, and pills and meds would have run out not long after.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And I don’t think that this is the place to have this conversation,” the mechanic went on in a low voice, as he looked to his right.
Brad followed the gaze to the soldiers who had just walked in and gotten in line for dinner. So there were taboo subjects here. The previous residents were apparently a big one. Had Caleb been onto something, after all?
“You shouldn’t be stirring things up,” a woman sitting nearby said when the soldiers began to speak among themselves.
Brad looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t thought anyone was listening. “I’m not trying to—”
“I mean, I don’t like to be reminded that everything I have belonged to someone who wasn’t as lucky,” the woman went on, looking more and more upset as she spoke. “And the people that lived here…it doesn’t matter exactly what happened to them, does it? I mean, they were old. It was over for them, anyway.” When the woman saw the distaste on their faces, she hurried on. “And you’re looking at it wrong. Maybe they were lucky not to have to see what the world turned into.”
Brad didn’t pursue the subject when she stopped speaking, and he and his companions finished their meal in silence.
Once he’d handed his plate in, Brad walked out of the dining hall and down to the block of apartments Charlie had indicated when he’d pressed her for more information about where the quarantine was located.
Jack had been right. Two armed soldiers stood outside one of the apartment doors. Their arms were crossed over their chests and their rifles were leaning against the wall behind them. Brad didn’t know their names; he only knew them as part of the Major’s guard.
“What are you doing here?” the shorter one demanded, reaching for his rifle.
Brad knew that he could swing the weapon up at any moment. Fear spiked in his blood, but he cleared his throat and answered the question anyway.
“I—” Brad cut himself off suddenly, an idea occurring to him. It wouldn’t answer all of his questions, but it would get a few taken care of. “I wanted to see him.”
The two exchanged a quick glance before the armed soldier spoke again. “You know you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Brad asked, trying to sound innocent. “I just want to make sure my friend is okay.”
“You should know why,” the unarmed soldier said, looking at Brad sternly.
He made sure that he looked very blank and confused. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why.”
The armed soldier sighed heavily. “Because he’s contagious. We don’t want disease spreading all through the place, now do we? Especially not in the winter.”
Brad didn’t really see what the weather had to do with it, but he didn’t bother to question that part of the soldier’s claim. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked instead.
“He’s sick. That’s all you need to know.” The soldier shifted the gun slightly as he spoke in a quick, impatient movement.
“Okay,” Brad said, stepping back just a hair, balancing on the balls of his feet. He didn’t think they’d shoot him right here on the street, but he didn’t really know and his survival instincts were blaring a warning too loud to ignore. He took his chance.
“Will you tell Carl I stopped by?” he asked casually.
“Yeah, we’ll let him know,” the second soldier said.
Brad turned and walked back down the sidewalk. He’d messed up Caleb’s name on purpose. And they hadn’t corrected him.
He could have let that slide. Maybe the soldiers were just exceptionally polite. But they hadn’t even batted an eye; they hadn’t known that he was wrong. That told Brad two things, and he didn’t like either of them. The first was that the soldiers didn’t have any idea who they were supposed to be guarding. And the second was that Caleb had been right. It seemed that sometimes, people just disappeared.
Chapter 11
He let two more days pass, hoping against all instinct that Caleb would turn up at breakfast one morning. He didn’t. And, just as Brad had predicted, no one asked about him. Even Charlie, who’d seemed so concerned, and Vance, who’d worked with Caleb much more than Brad had, didn’t question the man’s disappearance.
In the days that had followed being turned away from “quarantine,” Brad had been observing the workings of the facility with different eyes. He hadn’t noticed just how big the gap between soldier and civilian was before this. As his experiment had showed, the Major’s men clearly weren’t involved enough with the citizens to know their names. But it was more than that.
The civilians might not like to admit it, but there was a sense of fear that ran through them when the soldiers walked through. Conversations were dropped mid-sentence. Hell, people even stood up straighter. Brad thought that he’d figured out Ben’s bitterness about the days off, as well: the civilians who got them were people who did something that benefited the soldiers. Jack fixed their transport. Brad had helped feed them something besides ration bars. It didn’t matter that Ben was making life at the facility more stable for all of them, because the soldiers didn’t care about all of them.
He didn’t want to believe it. He didn
’t want to think that somehow he’d fallen in with another group of crazies. There was one way he could get it sorted out. It was time to go to Major Walker and ask what he planned to do about his promise to help Brad find Anna and the kids.
Once his chores for the day were done, Brad headed toward the office, unable to get rid of the sense that he was being watched. Or the feeling that he might have gotten Caleb killed by making him talk. He needed to talk with the Major and get this out in the open.
“What are you doing?” a soldier asked when Brad stepped up to the office door.
“I thought I’d go talk with Major Walker,” Brad said, trying to make it sound perfectly reasonable. Which, hell, when he thought about it, it really was. Why shouldn’t he talk to the guy? It wasn’t like the fact that he was a major really meant anything in this world anymore. It was sort of like money. A year ago, a lot of it would have meant something. Now, it was just a memory and a fire starter.
“He’s busy,” the soldier said.
“It won’t take long,” Brad said easily. “I just wanted to ask him one thing.”
“I said he’s busy.”
The soldier wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He was leaning against the wall, looking bored from the interaction. Brad bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the man. It wouldn’t do any good.
“Okay,” he said evenly. “Then can you tell me when he might be free to talk with me?”
The soldier sighed. “The Major will find you when he wants to talk to you.”
“That doesn’t really do me any good, though, does it?” Brad asked, trying hard to keep his tone civil. “Especially if he doesn’t know that I’m looking for him.”
“I’ll give him the message. It’s best if you get moving now.”
The soldier was older than Brad, but not enough for him to take that tone. Brad pushed his hands into his pockets so that the other man wouldn’t see that they’d clenched into fists. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen what he was walking into?
“I haven’t given you my name,” Brad pointed out. And he knew damn well that this soldier probably had no idea what it was. He wasn’t on any of the crews with Brad.
The soldier’s jaw went tight. “Fine. What is it?”
“Brad.” Then, figuring that if he was going to go for it, he might as well go whole hog, he went on. “Tell him that I want to talk to him about the search and rescue mission he promised me.”
The soldier nodded. “Fine, I’ll be sure to do that. Now. Move. Along.”
Brad moved. There were two possible outcomes: either the soldier wouldn’t tell Major Walker anything and Brad would be back to square one, or the soldier would tell Walker exactly what Brad had said and he’d end up in quarantine.
Brad finally managed to unclench his fists as he walked. Then, he forced himself to take a deep breath. No. Forewarned, as Lee had taught him, was forearmed. He wasn’t a damn tax attorney and he’d be a hell of a lot harder to take down if it came to that.
Or, he could simply leave. His pace slowed as he thought about it. If he skipped out in the night, no one would be able to find him. If his trips with the hunting crew had taught him anything, it was that he was the best tracker they had. The wind swirled around him and he shivered at the reminder of why staying here had been so important to him in the first place.
It didn’t mean that he had to stay; it just meant that he had to be careful with how he handled leaving. He still had his pack and now he could loot the apartment, but he wasn’t sure that would be enough to get him through. There wasn’t a lot of food in his place. Maybe he could live on half-rations for a while and stock up. He frowned. That still put him at upwards of a week before he could get out of there. And he might not have that long.
A truck rolled out through the gates, catching his attention. That would be the best way to go out. Covered vehicle, plenty of room to store things and to make a comfortable and warm bed in the back of. He wasn’t sure what he’d do about fuel, but he thought that he could probably siphon some from the cars on the road.
He made a mental note to find out how they filled the tanks. If he’d already opened the can of worms, he might as well scatter it around, after all. Then, he began to inventory what he had. Food was the sticking point. He just didn’t have enough of it.
Neal showed up with new rations every few days. Where did they come from? Were they locked in some room in the building where the Major spent his days? Or were they in an apartment like “quarantine”? Brad added that to the list he was making in his head.
He would pack his bag with emergency supplies tonight, but in the event that he had time, he’d find out about the rations and the fuel. His shoulders started to relax as the plan slowly took shape. At least he was doing something.
He was nearly relaxed when he heard the howl. Brad stopped in his tracks, listening as other people began to run toward their houses.
“It’s a wolf!” a kid running past him yelled.
Brad stayed where he was as doors slammed around him. It was a high-pitched howl, with yipping barks at the front end of it. It wasn’t a wolf. It was a coyote. And he had a feeling that he knew exactly where it was.
He ran for the cattle pen as fast as he could. Which, he was pleased to note, was still pretty damn fast. He skidded to a stop in front of the pen and looked around. A bellow of pain and fear from one of the cows answered his question. The coyote leapt at it, biting deep into its flank and it stumbled. Brad jumped over the fence.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ben demanded from behind him. The other man was out of breath and leaning on the fence about a yard away.
“Get me a gun!” Brad yelled back.
He picked up a rock and threw it, hitting the coyote in the side. It let go, stumbling and snarling. Blood dripped from its muzzle and it looked exactly like everyone’s worst fear. Still, Brad felt a flicker of sympathy. It was just trying to survive like the rest of them.
“Brad! Here!” Ben tossed him the rifle.
The coyote leapt for the cow again. Brad’s shot rang out and the creature fell with a whimper. Brad had missed the heart. The coyote tried to stand and failed. Brad raised the gun again, moving closer.
“Don’t waste the bullet,” the soldier Ben had gotten the gun from called out. “It’ll bleed out anyway.”
Brad didn’t even turn to acknowledge the words. Instead he raised the gun to his shoulder, aiming for the head, this time. The next shot seemed louder than the first. The animal went still in the dirt of the pen.
The soldier came in, yanking the gun away. “I told you not to waste the damn ammo,” he barked.
Brad’s throat felt too tight. “I wasn’t going to let it suffer,” he said.
“We don’t have the supplies for you to be a goddamn bleeding heart!”
“If you want to be useful, go get me a medical kit,” Brad snapped. “Or do you want me to let the cow bleed out, too?”
The soldier’s eyes went wide for a second. “What did you just say to me?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Brad demanded. “Get me a med kit. Now. Or you lose this cow.”
The soldier stepped closer. Brad didn’t step back. He was taller than the man by a good half a foot and he knew that he was right. With an inventive swear questioning Brad’s parentage, the soldier left, ordering Ben to come with him.
Ben came back with the kit alone. It was huge.
“Good God,” Brad said. “Where did you get this?”
“It was in the supply room,” Ben said. “Zach was so pissed that he practically threw it at me.”
One question answered. There was a supply room. And it was within ten minutes’ walk to the north of the cattle pen.
“Think you can help me with the cow?” Brad asked.
“Sure,” Ben said. “Just tell me what to do.”
“If I can get her confined, I’ll do a lot better,” Brad said. “I’d really rather not get kicked in the face.”
“I g
uess I don’t blame you,” Ben said with a slight smile. “And actually, I have something rigged up in the shed. I just finished it.”
Brad followed him in and saw a sling suspended from the rafters. “Great,” he said with relief. “And you’ve tested the weight?”
“Yep. I just did that this morning.”
They managed to wrangle the cow out of the pen and into the shed. Then, Ben lowered the sling so that it rested on the ground and Brad pulled the cow forward so that her midsection was over the fabric. Ben hoisted her up just enough so that she couldn’t kick. The sling was wide and supportive, and the cow was blasé about the experience. Brad figured that would change a little as he disinfected the bite.
He was both grateful and relieved when he found some numbing gel in the kit. He rubbed that on and then followed up with an injection to numb more deeply. He thought that the Major probably wouldn’t like him using these supplies on a non-human, but as far as he was concerned, the Major could get fucked.
He worked slowly, washing the bite thoroughly several times before he applied the disinfectant. There were places where the coyote had really bitten deeply and he focused on those. Ben spoke to the cow as Brad worked, patting her nose and feeding her to keep her distracted. He made a hell of an assistant.
Brad’s neck was hurting by the time he put in the last stitch. His eyes were stinging, too. The long proximity to the strong disinfectant had been a factor, as had the fact that the sun had gone down. It was hard to do detail work in the light of an oil lamp.
With a deep sigh, he packed the kit up again and rubbed his neck.
“Okay,” he said to Ben. “I’m done. It might be good to keep her isolated for a while, just to be sure that nothing messes with the stitches. And…” He hated to even bring it up, but he had to. “I didn’t see any signs of rabies in the coyote, but we should probably observe her for a while, just in case.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I was going to ask about that. I’ll make sure that she stays in her stall when the others are out. How long should we watch her?”
