by Smith, S. L.
“Is that right?” The first voice laughed. “What’s your name, son? I can’t see your face with those headlights like that.”
“Isherwood. Isherwood Smith.”
“Shoot man. You know me, don’t ya?” The first voice answered. “It’s Tommy and Phil. We used to work for your daddy.”
Isherwood laughed and clapped his hands. “Good Lord! Are you really? That was probably my Grandad, not my dad, but yeah. At the old Chevy place?”
“Yes, suh.” The second voice – Phil – answered. “We knew yo’ granddaddy real well. We was at the funeral. Back before all this, you know.”
“Yes, suh. Mr. Charlie’s son.” The first voice – Tommy – echoed. “It’s real good to see you.”
“Look, man.” Isherwood said. His thoughts were racing ahead of his mouth. “We’re putting something together in St. Maryville. We’re reinforcing downtown and St. Mary’s is sort of our main base, you see? We’ve got sort of an outpost in Morganza, too. You see where I’m going with this? Is your site secure here? Where are we? Just west of Livonia? Penny’s diner is just a few hundred yards down, right?”
“Yeah, uh.” Tommy answered. “We’re doing alright. Penny’s is sort of our main place, too. We’ve got that and the hotel next door locked down pretty tight. There’s about – what’d’ya say, Phil? People sorta come up on the highway, y’know? Fifteen of us now. We just lost one of the Davids.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t believe we didn’t see any of this coming into Sherburne this morning – we took side streets and had to do a lot of clearing.”
“See that!” Phil shouted. “I told you I was hearing something back over there. You said I was just crazy.”
“Look, guys.” Isherwood interrupted. “We can be pretty strong all together. If y’all get in a tight spot fall back to our location, okay? If we get in a tight spot, we’ll fall back to here or Morganza – what do y’all think?”
“We’ll see, I guess.” Tommy said, changing his tone some. “It’s been kinda rough for us, you see? That’s why I came on your truck. We’ve been scrounging a lot. There’s a lot of mouths to feed.”
“Y’all doing any planting?” Isherwood asked.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Padre said walking up to stand at Isherwood’s side. “But we need to either get going or get safe for the night.”
“Hey, you that pastor from up in Morganza, ain’t’ya?” Tommy asked.
Padre nodded without saying more.
“Right, like I was saying,” Isherwood continued. “We’ve got that Morganza outpost. But Padre’s right.”
“Oh yeah, yeah.” Phil and Tommy said in chorus. “We’ll get that semi out of your way. You’ll hole up here for the night, no problem.”
A short while later, the convoy of vehicles had passed inside the wall. Penny’s Diner was much closer than Isherwood had estimated. Tommy, Phil, and the others had obviously spent a great deal of time building a fortress along the roadway. The walls were at least two vehicles high all the way around. Unfortunately, Isherwood thought, it appeared that they had neglected their food supplies to accomplish the feat. Tommy and Phil showed the LaGrange family to a spare room in the hotel, but the others mostly fell asleep in their vehicles. They didn’t meet the rest of the Livonia survivors until the next morning. Before falling asleep, Isherwood called over to St. Mary’s on the radio, telling them to expect them in the morning, instead, as well that they’d run into a whole new group of survivors.
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE RETURN
They arose with the sun the next morning. Isherwood had slept in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. He was alone in the vehicle. Eli had joined his family in the hotel room. Through all the trauma of last couple weeks, he had grown used to sleeping in a single room huddled together with his family.
Isherwood pulled on the seat lever and lurched back upright. He saw now the full extent of the Livonia wall that Tommy and Phil had made. It was impressive. There were several acres within the wall and plenty of room to start planting. The wall was working, too. He caught signs of movement on the outer side of the wall where zombies had impaled themselves on rows of pongee sticks.
They met together with the rest of the Livonia survivors in Penny’s Diner for breakfast. Penny’s Diner was a stainless steel railcar-style building. It looked like a larger version of an Airstream motor home with its shining metal skin and rounded corners. A lunch counter stretched the entire length of the building and booths stood against the windows opposite the counter. Tommy explained that this was where he and Phil had originally taken shelter when the first swarm hit Livonia. Hands had beat against the glass and chrome for days, they said. They didn’t know if it was the living or the dead hammering at their door. The swarm had just disappeared one night. Isherwood guessed that it had eventually joined up with the larger swarms wreaking havoc on the Interstate. They had peaked over the lunch counter the next morning to see the highway littered with the smoking wrecks of vehicles. They had been gradually expanding their footprint ever since.
“You mean you’ve done all this without any real guns?” Justin interrupted Tommy’s story.
“People ‘round here must’ve used up their ammo pretty fast. They is plenty of guns, but no bullets.” Phil explained.
“They’ve basically survived on spears.” Isherwood said to himself in disbelief. “That’s just amazing.”
There were a lot of familiar faces among the survivors. Several, they discovered, were survivors of the swarms flowing along I-10. These were not local.
Even in the midst of rapidly dwindling food supplies, Tommy and the rest insisted that the newcomers all join them for breakfast. They took the offered plates of grits and cups of water with gratitude.
Isherwood took particular notice of Missy as she was eating. She was obviously in a lot of pain and was holding what was left of her arm tight against her body, but she seemed to be growing in strength. Her skin was no longer looking as gray as when he’d first seen her. If she was infected, he thought, she would have started rapidly declining. It looked as if Glenn’s quick thinking had saved his wife.
“Look,” Isherwood said, taking his eyes off his mother-in-law. “We just can’t leave y’all with nothing. We’ve had a pretty successful looting trip up to this point. I had hoped to bring the load back to St. Mary’s along with all the entire LaGrange family, but maybe that was greedy of me. If we’re all agreed, this is what I’d like to do.” He explained that he would leave them with several of the buckets of dry food and seeds they had found at the Booker Plantation, as well as half of their supply of ammunition.
“But this is an investment, you understand?” Isherwood continued. “I’m investing in your as well as our own future.” He turned around to a spot on the wall adorned with a large map of the area. It was yellowed and cracking at its edges. It had clearly been hanging there for some time. “I’m not gonna write on this because trouble may well come upon us one day soon. There will be other bands of survivors, and they may just want to take and burn, not rebuild – like us.”
He pointed out St. Mary’s, which was basically at the map’s center, and traced a finger along the long, smiling crescent moon of False River and the sweep of the Mississippi River. False River had once been a part of the Mississippi River, he explained, but was now just a long lake. He showed them how the lake and the river almost made an island of the land around St. Mary’s, except where the two no longer connected on the upstream and downstream sides. His group, Isherwood explained, had partially secured the land with their outpost at Morganza, which lay on the upstream gap between the lake and river, and by sealing off the Audubon Bridge.
“Y’all are here. Livonia. This isn’t exactly the spot of the downstream gap between False River and the Mississippi, but it’s pretty dang close. Do you see it? With this outpost, we can together seal up the space between the lake and the river. This is our most vulnerable side, though, because it faces Baton Rouge and the Interstate. We
have to take special care never to draw those swarms northward to our position, or we’ll be overrun.”
“Anyway,” Isherwood said, noticing how fear and not hope was now spreading across the faces in the diner. “We’re going to leave you with the means to protect yourselves, come what may. But promise be this – please, please promise me that you’ll start planting the seeds we’re leaving you with right away. Please start gathering whatever animals you can inside this enclosure. They are still cows you could gather up, I’m sure. If not, we’ll start supplying you with what we can find, as well as chickens – though we may keep the roosters at St. Mary’s. They get pretty noisy. Also, the bayou is just outside the walls, so it serves as sort of a moat – that’s really good. Since the bayou is so close, though, it’s another source of food. Tommy, you love fishing! Think of all the crappie and sac-au-lay you could be getting out of that thing.”
By the time he had finished talking, the Livonia group of survivors had become believers. His dream had become their dream. They even signed a formal treaty with terms on the backs of two menus. The Kingdom of St. Mary’s had formally annexed the Fort of Livonia by the terms of their mutual defense pact with “due and proper consideration given in the form of ten five-gallon bucks of seeds and rice, 1500 rounds of .22 caliber bullets, 1750 rounds of 9mm bullets, and one Chevrolet truck, formerly blue.”
They also added a radio and batteries to the deal. The Livonia group promised to make contact daily at 10am and 6pm, weather conditions permitting.
“You’re such a dork, Ish,” Justin said shaking his head in admiration. “Yesterday, you were a ninja turtle and today you’re Ben freakin’ Franklin.”
“Excuse me?” Isherwood said, clearly offended. “Of all the Founding Fathers, why that philandering, anti-Catholic, bald, scum—?” He said, trailing off into a series of indecipherable insults. The rest of the survivors started giggling amongst themselves. Their laughter soon grew in intensity as the weight and trauma of the last weeks seemed to, for the first time, melt away.
“Okay, now you’re reminded me of Yosemite Sam. Is that better?” Justin said, adding fuel to giggle fit.
Isherwood nodded. “Much.”
*****
As the top spires of St. Mary’s church came into view, Isherwood squeezed the steering wheel of the Jeep until his knuckles turned white. He had led the convoy straight north from Livonia, up Highway 1. He knew he was slowly losing focus and putting everybody in danger, but he was just so excited to see his wife and children again, especially now that he had Sara’s family with him.
“Did you ever think you’d see her again? St. Mary’s, I mean?” He said, turning and asking Eli, who was still riding with him in the Jeep. Eli just shook his head a little. He seemed to be holding back quite a lot of emotion.
When the tall wrought-iron fences of the church came into view, he pounded his fist against the window with excitement. He had been dreading this. He just knew he would return to swarms surrounding the church yards on every side. Instead, there were only a few. The river must be going easy on us, he thought to himself. He knew that waves of zombies could appear suddenly as though belched up from the river, carried downstream from parts unknown. He planned to fix this just as soon as he could, somehow or another.
They had radioed ahead to let their families know they were almost home. As the convoy pulled into view, Isherwood and the others could see a small party had gathered together in the back parking lot of the church by the back gate. Uncle Jerry slid the gate open at their approach so they didn’t have to stop out in the open.
The vehicles parked in a line along the back of the Parish Hall. Isherwood and Eli were the first out. Sara went first to her husband, as did the kids. Emma Claire and Charlie each grabbed one of his legs. Sara gave him a good, long kiss. “There’s more where that came from,” she said to him, grabbing his collar. Isherwood smiled dizzily, until his grandmother and aunt surrounded him.
“Gross,” Eli said, as Sara turned to him and smothered him with a big sister-sized hug.
“Oh my God, Eli,” she said, nearly suffocating the poor boy. “I thought I’d never see you – any of y’all – again.” Tears were streaming down both of their faces now.
Sara and Eli met up with their father just as he was lowering himself down from the cab of the deuce and a half transport vehicle. Glenn hugged them both. Sara noticed immediately how weak her father had become. She thought she ought to go easy on him, but couldn’t help herself. She hugged him so hard, she nearly knocked the wind out of him. Micha had snuck up behind her by this time to surprise her, which he did. Glenn and the boys then climbed into the back of the transport to help Missy out. Sara clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw her mother’s missing hand and forearm.
Padre had also climbed into the vehicle to attend to the girl they had brought back from Brooks Plantation. Jerry and Tad helped him carry the girl into the church, and Monsignor followed slowly behind.
Gran ushered all the LaGranges as well as Patrick and Justin’s families back to the rectory. She and Aunt Lizzy had been preparing a feast for them, Isherwood assumed, ever since they had first left.
“Breakfast was pretty meager at Penny’s Diner,” Isherwood explained to Gran. “I’m sure everybody is ready to eat.”
“I’m just glad for the chance to return the favor to Glenn and Missy for a change. They’ve been keeping you and Sara supplied with all kinds of game and fresh vegetables for years.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lorio and Ms. Lorio. Truly.” Missy said still cradling what remained of her arm.
Glenn was walking alongside Missy. “This will be the first real meal my family has had in probably an entire month. I’m sorry to say.”
“My goodness,” Gran said, shaking her head. “Isherwood should’ve left sooner. He always did leave things for the last minute.”
At this, Isherwood and Sara exchanged smiles. “The Apocalypse might’ve changed the whole world forever,” Isherwood whispered. “But it’s gonna take a lot more than that to change Gran.”
“What’s that, Isherwood?” Gran said, cocking a sly look in his direction.
“It had been about a week without food when Isherwood found us. Longer for mom and dad, I’m sure, though they never let on,” Micha explained. “I’ve never been so hungry in all my life. Those PowerBars you had for us, Ish. My God. They were probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Gran led them in through the rectory’s side door which led almost directly into the large dining room. Aunt Lizzy held the door open as they all trailed in. The LaGranges found that the table was already set for them. There was a place prepared for each of them. Gran had clearly had full confidence in Isherwood’s ability to bring them all back. The LaGranges, however, had stopped in their tracks at the sight of the feast that was spread out before them.
“I never thought I’d see something like this again. Not in this world.” Glenn said, as the food and candlelight reflected in his moistening eyes.
“We have quite the supply of food,” Aunt Lizzy remarked from behind them. “Wait until you see the pantry. And the preserves – my God, the preserves! Wait until your morning biscuits.”
“Is that Spinach Madeleine, Gran?” Isherwood asked. “Holy Mother of –”
“You just make sure our guests have served themselves before you set upon it, Isherwood.” Gran scolded.
“This is like Thanksgiving dinner.” Mary said. “Better even.”
“We have quite a lot to be thankful for,” Gran answered. “Maybe more than we’ve ever had.”
The group spent the rest of the afternoon alternately eating and drinking coffee. And they never ran out of food.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: COFFEE AND CHICKENS
“So tell me more about this plan you have, Isherwood.” Glenn said. His chair creaked in protest as he leaned back in it. Isherwood recognized that his father-in-law was now fully restored to former self. It was probably Gran’s coffee, Isherwood thou
ght to himself. Gran no longer used a coffee pot due to the limited supply of electricity, so all the coffee was made after the old style using a French drip.
The steam was still rising from their mugs and the earthy smell of coffee was thick in the air. Isherwood got up and placed his mug on the mantelpiece. As at the Diner, there just happened to be a large map of the parish at his back. An antique map hung above the fireplace of the rectory’s dining room. An electric light hung above it which would’ve provided ideal illumination in days past, but now just hung there sprouting spider webs. Instead, Isherwood grabbed a candle from the table and set its brass base on the mantelpiece. The map depicted all the original land claims in the parish and pre-dated the Louisiana Purchase. The names of Isherwood’s own ancestors – Gran’s great-grandparents – were written in cursive along one of the narrow parcels of land depicted on the map.
As before, Isherwood showed the various approaches to their location. False River and the Mississippi formed sort of an island between them as they split apart and then come back together. “It’s a lot like the island we just came from at Whiskey Bay,” Isherwood explained. “Only the river and the lake are no longer connected.” Glenn and the rest nodded in understanding and mild irritation. They felt like they had heard all this before.
He showed how the Morganza and Livonia outposts would protect the open lands north and south of St. Maryville. “Civilization can begin again right here, as it was cradled once before,” Isherwood explained. “Right here in our own Mesopotamia – our own land between two rivers.”
“But wouldn’t an actual island be better?” Glenn asked. “Like the one at Whiskey Bay?”
Missy squeezed Glenn’s hand with her one remaining hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back there,” she said. Glenn looked back to his wife. A sense of loss seemed to wash across his face, but it soon melted away as his gaze dropped to his wife’s mutilated arm. He nodded and turned back to Isherwood.
