“Godspeed.”
CHAPTER 29
For Health and Wellness
They were in the Jeep again, an hour into their trip to who knows where. No one spoke, and Joe’s eyes kept falling to the few drops of dried, brick colored blood that had stained the middle of the back seat between him and Cara from their last run. Cara kept looking at the three stripes that marked the bicep of his jacket’s sleeve.
“Pull in here,” Mac said, pointing to a barely navigable car path off the shoulder of the road.
Joe looked around and saw nothing but woods and the long stretch of the two lanes that made up the so called highway. He looked to Cara who was staring out her window, then to Jack who was waiting on Mac for further instructions.
“We have to do the rest on foot, unless we want to risk losing the car. Leave anything you want to keep and any of your guns. Keep only your knives.” She opened the front passenger door, and slung a small beaten up backpack on.
“What?” Joe asked in disbelief.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Cara said, a bit calmer, but sharing the same expression as Joe.
Jack took a deep breath and looked back to them.
“I don’t like it, but if she’s telling us to do it, we do it.” He pulled his revolver from his waistband and shoved it under his seat. He wasn’t feeling too secure either, being that the only knife he had in his pocket was the one that was part of his super thick Swiss Army tool. If they came across something that needed a small screw driver or pair of tweezers, he was your man, but the two inch long blade didn’t make him feel very confident about his fighting chances.
They all begrudgingly followed suit, tucking their weapons here and there, out of sight in the car. Then they donned their empty packs, save for a full water bottle and the Block’s good ole dried apples. Jack double checked that the Jeep was locked once everyone was out of it.
“It’s going to be a ten minute walk from here,” Mac informed them as she started back to the road.
Joe scrambled to catch up to her as Jack and Cara followed. “Woah, woah, can you at least tell me why no guns?”
“They’re not allowed there. You could enter with them, but then they would assist you in securing them in a locker. One they only have the combination too, and lately, seem to end up forgetting or they just disappear. Occasionally they’ll be too lazy to deny they took them and call it a users fee for their facilities.”
“And that’s it then? They keep your stuff?” Joe asked, the rest of the group intently listening to the conversation answering their own questions.
“That’s it. Their guards are allowed to have guns, and they don’t need a reason to take someone out.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, passing little shops and strip malls, old fast food restaurants and car dealerships with no cars, as they seemed to be getting closer to their destination. The road opened up to a small city center.
“I think I’ve been here before,” Cara said, trying to place why some stuff looked familiar. “I think there’s an auto body supply shop over there. We used to come out to it for emergency parts. We should take a look.”
“There’s nothing left here,” she said definitively.
Cara was about to say how she doubted someone found it pertinent to clean out auto stock, but then they passed a thrift store. Through the window you could see every inch of the place, mainly because it was entirely empty save for some knickknacks on the wall shelves. There wasn’t an item of clothing, not even the racks they would’ve hung on. She started looking more closely into the other windows, if the windows were still there and not smashed. She found each building to be unbelievably stark, like every single one had gone out of business, and their inventories sold off in its entirety. Mac started into one of the parking lots of a strip mall. A longer road led behind it through some sparse commercial landscaping whose bushes and trees now stretched out and up, overgrown.
“Keep quiet. Don’t speak to anyone unless I tell you to.” She stopped suddenly turning towards them. “Do not mention the Block or anything about where you came from or how we know each other.” She started walking again. When they broke through the trees, they saw it.
They stood at the apex of a triangle made of hundreds of parked cars. In front of them was a hundred yard path at its very center. Beyond that was a huge building made up of other connected buildings in odd shapes. A few domes rose, rounded, at its rear. At the front in large letters read Mind & Body Health Club. The three of them had stopped at the manufactured entrance through the cars to take it all in. Mac was a few feet ahead of them and had to turn around to snap them out of it.
“This place is a well oiled machine. They have laid down their ground rules through much trial and error, and they seem to have found what works, whether the others like it or not. Trust me when I say, the squeaky wheel gets greased. So go in there and follow me. Now let’s go.” She was off again down the lane to the huge buildings entrance.
The three of them started after her, entering the mouth of the path. As Jack walked he noticed a truck parked at the beginning. It was a forest green pickup, rust over most of it, a few broken arrow shafts sitting in its bed. His thoughts rushed in, but he kept his mouth shut, and continued to walk. As they moved they noticed, inbetween the cars, the dead had come out from all directions, closing in on them. But Mac just kept on walking. Now that they noticed them there, they started looking out into the parking lot. Throughout it’s whole configuration, as far as they could see, there they were, wandering around. The group looked behind themselves, and saw they had followed them out into the path, but were stopped just a couple feet into it by the ropes and chains that held them.
“Keep moving,” Mac said plainly to them behind her. “Don’t stop.”
“There must be hundreds of them,” Cara said walking with Joe and Jack.
As they neared the entrance, they made out something at the front. It was a platform of some sort, a little set up of cinder blocks formed steps up to it. The closer they got, they saw it was the flatbed of an eighteen wheeler brought in and parked across the entrance.
“Well, that’s new,” Joe said to no one in particular.
“Stops anyone getting any ideas to drive straight up and ram through their front door. Unless of course, they want to be decapitated,” Mac explained.
“Point made,” Cara said, looking straight ahead.
“Stay to the middle. The freshest are at the front,” Mac told them as if they understood what she meant. But before any of them could question her, one of the turned dove out from behind a van they were walking past. Its chain yanked it back and caused it to fall, its head ricocheting from one vehicle to the other as it went down.
“Holy shit!” Joe shouted as he brought his hands up in surprise, staring at it struggling to get back up off the ground when it was now half stuck under the van.
Cara took her long kitchen knife she carried with her out of its makeshift sheath at her belt, and went to end it.
“Don’t,” Mac said grabbing her by the arm. They all looked at her in confusion. “That is their property,” she said pointing at the partially decayed body still wriggling on his back straining to get up and back at them. “And one means of their defense. So they will see it as destroying their property and an attempt at crippling their defenses.”
They looked down at the squirming body on the ground, like a turtle caught rolling on its shell. It had on no shoes or clothes save for ratty and extremely soiled boxers. It had a single bullet hole in its heart. The skin still looked closer to flesh tone than gray. Fresh it was, which obviously for its speed and vigor. It hadn’t started to break down fully, or it was finding enough breathing people to feed on. Jack started to realize as he looked at the dead all beginning to gather around, that they all looked pretty good. There wasn’t any massive wounds from bites or accidents, not even broken limbs from falls. The majority he saw were adorned with single bullet holes to the ches
t. Though he noticed the one standing directly at the other side with her arms outstretched had old cut marks, blackened at the edges with skin rolling back at each wrist.
“Were these their people?” Jack asked Mac, who was walking a few yards in front of where the three were still standing.
She turned around with a look of aggravation. “Their people, their enemies, conspirators, peacemakers, leaders, weaklings, troublemakers. Doesn’t matter. Easier to end them and use them, than to deal with them any other way.”
“Then they just tie them up out here?” Jack questioned again, disbelieving.
“No resource wasted,” she started to ascend the cement stairs stepping up onto the surface of the trailer bed. She turned back to them. “So when I tell you to keep your mouths shut, do it.” And then she was down the other side, out of view. They quickly followed her route, leaving the newly turned security reaching out for them, their leashes taut.
The front doors swung open easily letting you step into the vestibule. At the next set of doors, stood two men holding AR-15’s, and glaring at them as the glass stayed locked in front, waiting for the glass behind them to close. Mac held up her arms and turned slowly, looking at them to do the same as her back was turned to the guards. They followed suit, their arms above their heads, spinning little by little, like idiots. Then they saw Mac was holding her bag out in front of her now, they did the same. As soon as they were all standing, bags extended out from their hands, the set of doors in front of them opened. A different guard came out to greet them while the other two holding their positions.
He took each pack one by one and looked inside after squeezing each pocket and seam. Then he threw them at their feet and backed out to return to his spot next to the front desk. They entered, each replacing their packs on their backs, the other armed guards eyed them as they passed. Mac walked up to the large counter, blocked off with six feet up of chainlink fencing. A gaunt faced and dirty man stood clad in filthy clothing that hung off his body. Behind him was a huge bulletin board that blocked their view of the rest of the place. Tacks and nails held up little things like shirts and socks, shoe laces, and even sets of flip-flops.
“State your business,” he said to Mac unamused.
She began to bite her lower lip nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between guards.
“I, I-“ she stammered meekly. “I’m here for some trades.”
The three behind her looked subtly at one another in confusion.
“And where are you looking to do that, sweetie?” The man suddenly turned his disinterest into lechery at the weak and frightened woman he saw in front of him. “I’m sure you could work something out with no loss of goods.” He looked her up and down making no attempt to hide it. Jack squinted at him, but the man never looked past her.
“The garden,” she said quietly, casting her eyes down at her feet and away from him.
He sucked his teeth at her, and then shot his gaze at the three standing behind her. “And them?”
“Carriers.” She turned her head just slightly to her shoulder, turning her eyes in their direction, but not actually looking back at them. “And a guard.”
He gave a little snicker. “Naughty girl,” he said, wiggling his finger around his own eye and cheek bone, tracing the area on his face that matched hers where you could still see the remains of a yellowish-green bruise.
She took a shaking breath in and cast her eyes down again, looking downtrodden.
“I’m here to make it right,” she said more to the floor than him.
“Oh, I bet you are,” he smiled again and let out a laugh. He turned to the guard standing next to him. “Let ‘em in,” he shouted to the man, never looking away from Mac.
The guard stepped to the side, opening up a gate made from what looked like a mix of chain link and metal traffic barriers. He stood holding it as they walked through, and they finally saw what waited inside. Past the entry was a mix of shanty town and market. The place was filled with people, bustling to and fro, not looking anyone else in the eye, trying to complete whatever task that sent them out and about.
It seemed, before all this, the area past the front desk was a café. Hallways branched off from it like spokes in a tire. Signs still hung from the walls undisturbed. Cara read a few as they rushed passed, following Mac. The spa was off to their left, the gym to their right, and past the open space of the market was a sign whose arrow pointed straight ahead to the pool. They passed the filled stands selling anything from dried meats and fresh produce to clothing and shoes. As they walked down the large hall, they peered into the open doors to their left and right. Some looked like they were once offices, others with bigger open rooms with wooden floors and mirrored walls were once probably for fitness or dance classes. Now each door was marked with a red circle. What once were the offices now had a blanket or mat on the floor, and the studios were filled with women standing in a line as a man looked over each one until he made his selection. Another man took payment of what looked like a can of soda before the girl he pointed to went to him. Guards seemed most prevalent in that area, and it was obvious why. Cara caught the eye of one of the women as she went to close an office door, a man already sprawled out on a mat waiting. The woman didn’t look away until the door closed off their eye contact, her expression resolute.
They passed another large sign that showed the women’s locker room to their left, men’s to their right, and the pool just ahead of them. The scent began to hit them. It wasn’t what you’d usually expect heading towards an indoor pool. No chlorine, no joyful shouts of children or the splashes to go along with it. But the dampness was still there, and the smell of something familiar. They noticed the door was fogged up as they approached. A guard stood in front, clad in faded black, and another AR-15 slung across his chest, held in his hands. He tilted his head back like he was assessing them, but didn’t do anything as Mac pushing the doors in and entered.
When they walked in, each member of the Block faltered in step as they looked at the huge domed room filled with plant life. Its walls went straight up to the ceiling, all in glass. The sunlight streaming in made even the dingy white of the slippery tile almost blinding, but it was the sight of the Olympic-sized pool sitting center in the huge space that they couldn’t believe.
Pool was not the right word for it, not anymore. Though it still contained water up to about a foot from the surface, the water was the color of a lake. Algae grew along the sides, and some kind of plant life floated on the surface. At the shallow end, against the pool’s wall sat the tops of sculptures: marble busts, some type of art installation made of hardened cement, good sized stones piled on top of that, just peeked out from the water line. A group of turtles sat on an old beam wedged to stay in place just above the surface. As they passed, one, then another slid back into the water. They rounded the corner making their way to the farthest side. Guards were pacing about here and there, watching the laborers. Their group walked passed a woman sprinkling something into the water. Then the surface started to ripple as numerous mouths of fish broke through to eat it up. The pool was fully stocked, and though it took a while for Jack to put it together, the sound of frogs croaking around them registered in his ears.
They followed Mac away from the water, through paths of plant boxes, plants growing up taut ropes like vines, and a few hydroponic setups. The lush verdant greens of the vegetables, and vibrant colors of fruits were incredible to see, especially since the growing season had barely started outside, and they seemed to be ready to harvest. As they reached the back portion of the room, a tall man was speaking to a group of workers all staring at a line of garbage cans. The plants that sprouted from the tops were wilted and brown. As they approached the group they all began pushing over the receptacles with loud, echoing bangs, the dirt spilling out towards there feet, the scent of moist earth reaching their nose, and in the mess rolled out plump potatoes.
“Gather them, brush them off, and take them to the boiler room
to cure,” the tall man spoke to the group as they began to pluck the tubers from the dirt and place them into gym bags.
Mac was now standing behind the man waiting patiently for his attention.
As he turned towards her, he spoke out exasperatedly, “We’re not starting sales until after lunch, so what you have, you have until then, and take it up with our vendors at the market.” When he saw who it was, he froze. His face was almost unreadable until his eyes welled up a bit, and he grabbed Mac in an embrace. She stood there, arms at her sides and let him, until he pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said sniffling a bit and looking up to the domed ceiling. “I just, I didn’t think I’d-“ he looked back down at her. “Thank you.”
She gave him a stiff nod, and started to look around the area. “I’m here to collect some of what’s owed.”
His eyebrows jumped a bit in surprise. “From me? Already?” He gave her a big smile. “Congratulations. I’m happy to hear it.”
“No,” she said turning back to him, but not looking him in the eyes. “I haven’t settled anywhere. I just need some of them now. Part of a new thing I’m working on.”
His face fell a bit, looking sad now. “Oh. Alright.” He began to walk towards the wall. The bottom three feet wasn’t glass, but cement board that faired best in the moisture rich environment like most indoor pools. Pushed up against it was a large, metal lock box. He pulled a string out from under his shirt and came out with a small key to unlock it. Inside were piles of small bags, paper pouches, and labeled containers. Off to one side was a small manilla envelope with a large E written across it.
“What do you need?” he asked her, holding the light orange colored package in his hands.
“I was thinking pumpkin,” she said flatly, staring at the E on the front.
He plunged his hand into the mouth of it and peered down, maneuvering its contents around. Finally, he pulled out a letter sized envelope and handed it to her. “So, you’re gonna want to plant them after the frost is done, and the dirt has warmed up. Directly in the soil, about an inch down, in direct sunlight. Give them lots of space to stretch out. That’s why we do them outside here.” He gave her a little grin, then continued. “Drainage is important. You can make little hills for them to sit on, and the soil should be rich. Compost, manure, all that. They like to drink, so keep them watered, but make sure to keep the vines and fruit dry. You don’t want rot setting in. When they start to flower, they’ll need to pollinate. If there’s no bees around, you’ll have to take over. Don’t let the vines get too long or the pumpkins won’t have enough energy to grow well. Cut them when full grown, when the leaves start pulling back and drying up, leaving a few inches on the stem to help with storage and to slow decay. Let them sit out in the sun for a few days, let their skins get hard, that’ll help with duration too.”
Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone Page 44
