by K. M. Fawkes
“I’ll check your sections for you,” Brad said. “It’s not a problem.”
Jack looked tempted, but then he hesitated. “I don’t know, Brad. Every man does his own work around here, you know.”
“Every man isn’t even awake yet,” Brad said with a grin. “I’ll do your section and mine and initial for us both at the sheet. No one will be done before me, anyway.”
The chores had to be initialed every day at a sheet which hung on what had been the mailbox for the facility. Maybe that was what the Major spent his day doing…writing up the sheets. They did have to be done by hand, which was probably a pain in someone’s ass. He had a feeling that it was probably Neal’s problem rather than Major Walker’s, though.
Jack sat still for a moment. Then, he flexed his ankle and clearly only just bit back a grunt of pain. After another second he nodded. “Okay, I think I’ll have to take you up on that. I have the section to the west, near the woods.”
“I’ve got it,” Brad said. “And I’ll do that part first, so don’t sit here and worry about it. You just get some rest, okay? And remember what I said about the ice and elevation.”
“I’m headed right back to bed,” Jack assured him. “Thanks a million, man. I really appreciate it.”
Brad shrugged. “It’s no problem. Here, let me help you get into the house.” Jack started to protest and Brad sighed. “Stop it with the overly-masculine bullshit and let me help you. I’ve got two fence sections to do now because of your dumb ass.”
Jack looked surprised at first and then he threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, fine. This is your reward for helping me with my chores.”
Brad snorted. “I’ll be sure to treasure every single second. All right. Ready? One. Two. Three.” He pulled Jack up, bending slightly so that the other man could put his arm around his shoulders. He waited for him to get his balance on just one leg before he said, “Okay, you get the door.”
As he helped Jack inside, Charlie came down the hall, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “What’s going on?” she asked, then gasped when she saw Brad holding Jack up. “Oh my God, are you okay, honey?”
She hurried over, running her hands over Jack’s chest as if searching him for injuries. He gave her a smile as Brad steered him to the couch. Brad had to lower him down carefully around Charlie’s frantic inspection.
“Charlie, I’m fine,” he said when she continued to search him. “I just twisted my ankle while I was out checking the fences. It’s nothing life-threatening, I promise.”
His wife dropped down to the couch beside him and pressed her face against his chest. “Oh my God, Jack. I haven’t been that scared since we got here,” she whispered. “I thought something awful had happened to you.”
Brad was starting to feel like he was intruding so he walked back out and grabbed the ice pack. By the time he brought it back in, Charlie had just about composed herself. Brad saw tears glimmering in her eyes, but none of them had escaped to run down her cheeks. She reached out and took the ice pack, pulling Jack’s pant leg up before putting it gently on his ankle.
“Thank you, Brad,” she said. “I can’t believe that you got this stubborn man to let you help him into the house.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. And I’m unbelievably charming and persuasive; didn't you know?” Brad said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to keep him sitting down, Charlie. I’d better go get those fences checked before other people start moving around. I’ll drop by and check on you later.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Thanks again, Brad.”
“Anytime,” Brad said as he walked to the door.
He finally set out on the job he’d started for, breathing in the cold morning air and wincing as he walked. It really was freezing cold. He didn’t know why he was so consistently surprised by it. Brad pulled his scarf up over his mouth and walked briskly, trying to warm up as fast as he could.
He had twice the amount of fence to check, so he had twice the amount of time to get warm. Or at least, that was what he told himself as he walked. In reality, it would simply be twice as long before he could get back indoors. And, like most of the things that had recently screwed him over, it was all because he’d decided to play the Good Samaritan.
But hey, wasn’t that what neighbors were for? It was interesting to use the word again. He really hadn’t expected that he would. At least, not so soon. He hadn’t had neighbors since even before the whole apocalypse. That was the price a person paid when they lived above their business.
He wished that he hadn’t thought of his business. He wondered if it was still there or if it had been burnt to the ground as well. If someone looted the supplies that he’d spend so much money to buy, that was one thing. If someone just pointlessly destroyed them, that was something else again. He ordered himself not to think about it and picked up his pace. The sooner he got done, the warmer he’d be.
As he jogged along the fencing that had been assigned to Jake, he noticed a small hole. That was probably where the coyote had gotten in. He made a mental note of it and walked on. It wasn’t big enough for anything serious and he could probably patch it with some leftover chicken wire once he got done with the check.
The rest of the fencing was fine and he was heading back from initialing both his and Jack’s sections when someone called to him.
“Hey, Brad!”
Brad stopped and turned toward the farm area of the facility. “Hey, Ben, how’s it going?”
“To be honest, not that great,” Ben said bluntly. “Can you walk with me for a minute?”
“Sure,” Brad said, falling into step with the other man. “What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to say it so close to that group of kids,” Ben said. “Otherwise, the next thing you know, a rabies scare will blow through here like wildfire. But I’m afraid that the coyote bite is starting to get infected.”
Brad stopped in his tracks. “Are you sure?”
Ben shook his head. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, no. But it looks red and puffy. I thought you might want to come take a look at it. Just to be clear, I don’t think it’s rabies, but you know how the rumor mill works.”
“Good thinking,” Brad agreed. “And yeah, I’ll go right now.”
They walked to the cow pen, Brad’s mind already five steps ahead on what he should do for the cow. It could be a simple fix. He could have put the stitches in too tight since he was stitching in the dark. Or it could be an infection like Ben said. An infection wasn’t the end of the world. Ben hadn’t wanted to start a rabies scare and Brad agreed, but the word rang in his mind like an alarm bell the whole way there.
Brad tried to come up with more reassuring things, but nothing came to mind. He stepped into the pen and walked over to the cow. The skin around the stitches was swollen and dark. He sighed.
“Damn it. I’ll have to take the stitches out,” he said. “Will you help me get her back in the sling?”
Ben did as Brad asked and they began carrying out the exact same procedure that they’d done yesterday. Brad made sure to wash the wound even more thoroughly this time. Then, he injected the skin around the wound with penicillin. He should have done that the first time around, but he’d been afraid to use the medicine up. He rubbed antibacterial ointment into the bite and then stitched the animal up once more.
By the time he was done with the cow and had packed up the first aid kit for the second time in as many days, his poor night’s sleep was catching up with him. He held back a yawn as he hopped over the fence and headed back to his apartment. Maybe he could get a nap in before he went on hunting rotation tonight.
He’d completely forgotten about the hole in the fencing and his plans of patching it up. All Brad was worried about at the moment was getting some sleep so that he didn’t end up napping on duty. He had a feeling that the Major would really frown on that. Hell, for all he knew, they’d leave him lying there on the forest floor.
Chapter 14
It was November twe
nty-second, and Brad was pissed off. He supposed that he shouldn’t have been. He was still alive, after all, and there hadn’t been any fallout over his questions like he’d been afraid of. He wasn’t dumb enough to have relaxed his guard, and he’d done his best to continue to explore while staying under the radar.
He’d tracked down the supply house a few days ago, right before the snow had started. He’d been able to smell the iron scent of the impending storm, so he’d taken his chance while he knew that he wouldn’t leave tracks. His heart had felt like it was pounding out of his chest the entire time, but he’d found the place without incident.
He’d picked the lock and snuck in. Inside, he had found himself staring at rows upon rows of supplies. There was way more than ration bars in there. His gaze landed on cans of vegetables, pasta, chili, and soup. There were boxes and boxes of nonperishables and an entire shelf of five-gallon water jugs.
“So why are we gagging down MREs and busting our asses hunting every damn day?” Brad had muttered as he walked through, looking at the bounty that they could have been sharing every day.
The door had opened just then, and his heart had skipped one too many more beats than was healthy. He’d ducked down in the darkest corner, near some stacks of blankets. The cramped position reminded him of the time he’d waited in that SUV on the interstate. At least this time he wasn’t sweltering hot. Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t sweating.
“I’m starving,” he heard a voice say. Brad was surprised to realize that he knew the voice. Mason.
“Yeah, me too,” a second voice replied. “But the Major would shoot us if we took anything and you know it.”
The other man had a gruffer voice and Brad didn’t recognize it. He risked a glance out between the shelves. He recognized the soldier, but he didn’t know his name. He stood guard at the major’s office door pretty frequently and he wasn’t exactly pleasant to deal with. Not that any of the soldiers were.
“Let’s just get what we came for and get out of here,” the second man continued.
“Good idea,” Mason said. “The less temptation, the better. What did he say to bring?”
“What else?” the second man asked with a snort. “He wants some more whiskey.”
“I keep hoping that he’ll share it one day,” Mason admitted as they walked over to the shelf with the liquor bottles. Brad hadn’t noticed it before. It was just as well stocked as the rest of the place and just seeing it had ticked him off. Who the hell did the Major think he was? Just sitting in his office all day drinking whiskey and pretending to work? How much of this food was he eating day by day while he forced them to have stringy meat for dinner?
“He usually gives me a sip or two when I guard the door at night,” the second soldier said, sounding a little satisfied.
“Well fuck you too, then,” Mason snapped as he grabbed a bottle. “Let’s get this back to him before he comes looking for us.”
The memory of all of that food was part of the reason that Brad was angry, but it wasn’t the whole thing. If anything, he was currently using the discovery as part of his escape plan, which made him feel better at the moment.
No, what really made him angry was the fact that this was the eighth day in a row that he’d gone to the Major’s HQ to try to talk to him about his promised rescue mission. And this would be the third damn day he’d done it in knee-deep snow.
He could play the lines out in his head as they happened by now. Sometimes he did, just for amusement. There was only one variation.
“Can I see the Major today?” he asked the guard at the door.
It was the same man who had brought the Major his whiskey and it was all Brad could do not to ask him how it had tasted. Instead, he simply crossed his arms and waited. Which lie would it be today?
“He’s not in.”
Ah, the first answer again. It was always a toss-up between, “he’s not in” and “he’s busy,” but it was more often the first.
“It’s important,” Brad went on, just like he did every day. It never had any effect, but at this point, he considered it a little game they played.
“He’ll get back to you when he has a chance,” the man said with a shrug. “The Major is very busy right now.”
Hey, look at that. A two-for-one deal.
Brad cleared his throat and said, “Will you tell him that I was here? My name’s Brad.”
“I know,” the soldier assured him.
Well that was something. Two soldiers now knew his name. For all the damn good it did him.
Brad turned and walked back to his apartment. There was simply nothing else to do at the moment. The cow was healing nicely. He obviously couldn’t raid anything at the moment. And it looked like it was going to snow again. He really didn’t want to be out in it. Even though he felt like there was something tugging at his memory.
Once he was back to his place, he noticed that Jack and Charlie and Remington were outside their apartment, bundled in blankets. Even Remington had a blanket thrown over him.
There were a few other men there, too, and Brad squinted, trying to see who it was. He couldn’t help but be paranoid these days. That was what pissing off the establishment tended to do to a person.
He sighed in relief when he recognized Vance and Harrison, but stiffened up just a little when he saw Neal. Neal was the Major’s gopher; he was at the office every day. He didn’t know how close they were, but he was wary around the man, anyway.
“Hey,” Jack said, waving Brad over. “Do you want to join us for some beer and conspiracy theories?”
Brad took the bottle and leaned back against the pillar of the porch. “Conspiracy theories?” he asked.
Charlie smiled and nodded. “Yep. You heard right. Tonight's topic is the nanobot outbreak.”
“But we know how that happened,” Brad said, shaking his head. “The bots thought that aging was a virus and decided to shut down the hosts.”
“Sure. That’s what they say,” Jack said. “But what if it started before that?”
Brad sipped his beer, raising his eyebrows. This should be a pretty safe conversation to have with Neal around. It also sounded like it was going to be one hell of a ride.
“What does that mean?” he asked once he’d swallowed his sip.
“I think someone manipulated it,” Jack said with relish.
“What do you mean? You think someone created the virus on purpose?” Brad asked. “Why?”
“Hell, why does anybody do anything?” Vance chimed in, leaning back as well. “Maybe they really wanted to take out some people.”
“Everyone who got the tech first was rich,” Charlie pointed out, diving into the conversation feet first.
“That’s exactly who I would’a started with,” Vance said, shaking his head. “What you do is, you take out the one percent. Then, you got a better chance to spread the wealth.”
“But poor people got the bots, too,” Charlie pointed out. “They would have kept them around if that was their plan, right?”
“Maybe the hacker thought that his plan hadn’t worked,” Jack said. “Maybe he didn’t know that it took time, so he flooded the whole system.”
“Is that likely?” Charlie asked, running her hand over her dog’s head. “If they were smart enough to hack the system for the bots—”
“Things don’t always go the way you want them to,” Jack protested.
“Maybe it wasn’t a hacker that did the job,” another man volunteered. Brad recognized him as part of the hunting crew, but they were never on the same shift. He thought the man’s name was Harrison. “Maybe it was the government.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone took that thought in and rolled it around in their minds. Harrison looked pleased to have caused such a stir. He held out his hand and Charlie put another beer into it. He drank victoriously.
“Nah,” Brad said. “There’s no way. Some of them got the bots, too. They wouldn’t have started anything knowing that they’d be kil
ling their own people.”
“Wouldn’t they? You remember that not all of them got the bots, right?” the man replied, clearly ready to defend his thesis well past the point of reason. “Maybe they were thinning the herd there, too. You know how they were always talking about our overpopulation problem.”
“Sure, but—” Brad said.
“So they decided to do something about it,” Harrison continued. “And then it just got away from them. It turned into way more than they’d bargained for when the virus mutated and spread.”
“What about the way they dealt with it?” Vance asked. “In the aftermath, I mean. Once ninety percent of us were gone?”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“The EMP,” Vance said impatiently. “In what world is turning off the power to everything a good solution? It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. Especially since they found the cure and the cure needed some fuckin’ electricity.”
“There weren’t enough MRI machines, remember?” Charlie pointed out, her voice strained. “That much became clear when the president died.”
Brad looked at her quickly. “What did you say? When the president died?”
Brad had watched the news right up until he hadn’t had that option anymore and he hadn’t heard anything about losing the commander of the entire nation. Did Charlie have some information that he didn’t? The news networks had been so disorganized toward the end that it was certainly possible for some areas to have gotten news that he hadn’t.
Remington came over and leaned against Brad’s leg, sensing his sudden spike in worry. Brad bent down and fixed the dog’s blanket before patting him on the head.
Charlie shrugged and reached for her beer. “I don’t know for sure if he’s dead, but that’s what I heard. And what would have made them hit that big red button and change everything, if not for something catastrophic like that?”
“The thing is,” Neal said, speaking for the first time. “You’re not entirely wrong.”
“Got a theory of your own, Neal?” Brad asked with a laugh, trying to make it seem like they’d just been bullshitting. They had been when they’d started, but somehow, the tone had become much more serious as the conversation went on. Suddenly, he was very uneasy about Neal’s presence.
