Wilder (Savage #2)

by Jade C. Jamison

  “Wait. What?” Susana raised her eyebrows at my question, so I added, “Infected people become…normal again?”

  “You didn’t know?” I shook my head. “Yes, that’s right. The infected…they’re not dead. They’re just sick—and some of them, if they don’t die, can be saved.”

  Her words shook me to the core, and then I realized—that meant I had murdered people in cold blood.

  I brought my hands to my eyes. Once more, I couldn’t hold back the tears as I realized the horror of what I had done.

  Chapter Twenty

  Susana spent the better part of two hours bringing us up to speed, but my head was swimming. After my emotional outburst, she took it slowly. Kevin had tried to assure me that I’d acted in self-defense, just like those people would have were the tables turned, and Susana agreed.

  It didn’t assuage my guilt.

  She told us that Washington was rebuilding and she’d never seen our government work so well and in such a focused manner. The president survived the virus and the attacks, but the vice president and speaker of the house did not. She estimated that about ten percent of the federal politicians survived, but most of them were gone. Those who did were more serious about their jobs than ever before. Regular legislation was thrown out the window. Survival Law, as they called it, ruled the land for the meantime. Local governments—that was, the towns and cities rebuilding from the ground up—were authority in their parts and trumped all else. Washington knew they couldn’t fathom what each community was up against and, especially since they’d dispatched troops to help with the management of those communities, they had to trust that people were taking care of business. They were focused on restoring order, communication, and transportation as well as curing the masses.

  But the masses? Well…they weren’t so massive anymore. There were no solid estimates, but there were incredible losses to humanity worldwide. It had been a disease of epic proportions, and—more than once—Susana said what few experts remained in the world compared it to the flu pandemic of 1918. What ensued—some bouts of terrorism worldwide that gave the impression that some foreign power wanted to “take over the world”—created heavy losses as well, but now, it seemed, most people and places simply wanted to recover.

  Finally, it was all just too much for me. Susana said, “Of course, we know you’ll need a day or so to resituate yourself. It’s a lot to take in. But, at some point, we’d love for you to contribute—actually, we expect you to…but we want you to help in whatever capacity you feel best suited for. Want to work the land? Great. We’ve started planting a huge community garden on the other side of campus. Would you prefer sewing or cooking or driving…or even paperwork? Let us see what we can find.”

  I blinked. “Right now…I just need to find my kids. I—”

  “Oh. Oh, my God, Nina. How insensitive of me. I didn’t even think to ask. Let me get a roster—”

  “Well, uh…they were both out of town attending college. I don’t know if…” The possibilities of what could have happened to them, where they could be, their fates…were too enormous for me to voice. “They might have come down at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

  The look on the blonde woman’s face was pained, but she still forced herself to speak. “I don’t mean to be negative, but I don’t think they would have come down at Thanksgiving. That was right after Denver was bombed and everything was blocked off. We still don’t know the extent of the damage or if traffic can even go near the area, but I know in November there was no coming or going.”

  My voice was weak, but I had to force the words out. “So…if they’re…” I swallowed. “They would be up there still.”

  “Yes.”

  My heart sunk. Golden was part of the entire Denver metro area. The only thing it had going for it was that it was nestled in a valley and maybe the hills would block it from radiation or a nuclear blast—but I wasn’t hopeful. I couldn’t remember much science about nuclear bombs from school, if I’d ever even learned anything. It wasn’t anything I’d ever been interested in knowing about. It was barbaric, even if it was advanced.

  My son, though—he might have had a chance. Boulder was far enough from that area that maybe he could have survived everything that came with a nuclear explosion. I felt a sting in my nose as I began internally mourning my daughter, because I was certain she couldn’t have made it. Still…I had to know. “Have you heard anything about any schools—you know, universities, colleges? My daughter attends Mines and my son’s at Boulder.”

  “No direct word, but I do know that college campuses—not excluding our tiny community college here—actually did quite well, all things considered. Even though the virus itself was undiscriminating and college kids seemed to fare no better than the rest of the population, campuses got themselves organized quickly. I’m not sure exactly what they did or how they did it, but word is they became safe environments, not just for the students living on campus, but all students and even the communities they were in.” She took a deep breath. “Particularly Boulder.”

  I needed that. I hadn’t known how much until I felt my shoulders relax a little. “Thank you. I…I need to see them.”

  “Well, we’ll have to arrange some sort of transportation for you.”

  “I have a car at home.”

  “Right, but gas…we have some cooperation with other communities. We have sort of a voucher system. We don’t want to impose too heavily on any given community, but if one of theirs needs some gas and they’re in our neck of the woods, they head on over, and vice versa. That’s one thing the federal government has managed to do is to supply us with a little gas. We get a truck here once a month that delivers a small amount, and we try to make do with what we’ve got. Unfortunately, we go to other communities way more than they come this way, so we’ll want to gas you up as much as we can here, get you a voucher for somewhere along the way, and maybe get you some items for barter—unless you already have things of value at home that you think might serve the purpose.”

  I was dwelling on her words, how it seemed travel wasn’t as simple as it had been in the past, when Kevin spoke. “What about Greeley? Any word from there?”

  Susana shook her head. “Again, though, a university town. I have no doubt they did okay. All word about college towns, from Grand Junction to La Junta, is that they managed to pull it together. I guess we’re technically part of that group.” She blinked a couple of times and added, “And Greeley’s far enough from the blast site that I doubt they experienced any negative effects that way.”

  I could feel my mind wanting to shut off, wanting to grow numb again, but it had suddenly forgotten how. I was in information overload—too much to absorb in too short a time. I felt almost like I was experiencing culture shock. “I need to go home. Check on things.” Part of me also wanted to ask her to find her roster, see if maybe my parents had returned from Arizona, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to ask her about Arizona itself, about Nebraska, but I couldn’t. I had already lost a child, maybe two, and if I learned that my parents and my brother and his family were equally doomed…I knew my heart couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t deal with that possibility right now. I needed to go home, to sit on my porch and muse, to be alone.

  “Oh. Of course.” She told us that we wouldn’t have power but we would have running water, and that many people stayed at their homes at night and then came to the college for meals—the morning one and the evening one, just like we’d gotten used to at the jail—and showers. If we came for the evening meal, she said, we’d be expected to help with clean up, but it was simple and fast with everyone pitching in. She said they also played games afterward. It was a social event every evening, and it had created such a warm, strong feeling of not just community but family, and she was proud to be part of it.

  I didn’t want to ask how many people in my town had survived…but if they could all fit in a college gymnasium, it sounded like thousands had been lost. The woman wh
o’d avoided the news like the plague over the past couple of decades just couldn’t deal. This was the kind of thing I needed to know. These events did affect me directly—I just felt powerless to do anything in their wake. Susana, though…she was the person for the job, and I was impressed with her thus far.

  Even if we didn’t return for the evening meal, she asked us to come by the following day so she could set us up for our trips. There was more to it than just gas, she said. There were roads here and there that weren’t necessarily closed but harder to traverse, and she wanted to bring us up to speed.

  But she could tell I’d shut down.

  Kevin, though, he was in a completely different place. When I looked at him, I could tell his mind was calculating, processing, doing something with all that information.

  We were out of the building and halfway to a different one before my mind registered we were walking. It wasn’t until we got to the automotive building and Susana raised a garage bay door that I realized she was bringing us to Kevin’s motorcycle.

  She wished us well as I clung to Kevin’s back and he revved the engine…but my mind wasn’t there. It was in an emotional cloud, and I was trying to figure out how to get my shit together.

  * * *

  Kevin found my house with little thanks to my crappy directions. Susana had stocked us up with snacks, but we’d probably have to return for the evening meal. I couldn’t remember what I had in my house as far as food went.

  As we drove down my street, Kevin slowed his bike even more. As much work as I could tell the remaining citizens had done downtown and at the college, the farther away we got from the center of the city, the less that had been accomplished. There were still cars here and there in the middle of the road and general disorder—trash scattered everywhere, an occasional home with its windows broken or door hanging open. There was even a washing machine in the middle of one street.

  Where I lived, though, I barely recognized. I knew the homes, each one as Kevin drove down the street, but things felt different—like these places had survived a war and were feeling as weary as I.

  My home, as we approached it, made me feel an ache in my heart. So much had happened there over the years—my children had grown up, my husband’s health had slowly declined until his passing. It was a place of birthday parties so many years ago and then merely a place to rest my head and hug my family before leaving for another day of battle. My porch, my refuge—still there, the plastic lawn chair I used to sit in now tipped over, the top stuck in what must have been mud at one time just in front of the house.

  My trash barrel was gone.

  But my car and the infected man’s truck from last fall that had blocked my driveway were still there, exactly as I’d left them. Everything else about my place seemed unscathed. Kevin cut the engine after parking next to my car in the driveway and asked, “This it?”

  “Yeah.” I got off the bike and stood, absorbing the view in front of me, trying not to gape. It was a lot to take in, how familiar everything seemed…and yet how different. I felt my eyes grow wide and turned quickly to look at the Dingels’s house, halfway expecting Larry to come over and ask me how things were going, just like he used to.

  I must have had a strange look on my face, because Kevin asked, “Everything okay?”

  I pointed at the two-story residence across the street. “That’s Larry and Vera’s house.”

  He nodded. “Hmm.” I started walking up the drive toward the porch when he said, “Wonder if the fucker made it back here.” I turned. “Wonder if we should check.”

  “You think?”

  “Actually, no. I’m curious, but I don’t think he’s here. He would have had to go through a checkpoint like we did, and once they saw how crazy he was, no way they’d just cut him loose, not without meds or some shit.”

  I tried to smile but couldn’t. I just nodded and then turned, walking toward my door. I knew I should ask Kevin his plans now that we were free, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I’d already lost so many people that day, whether in my mind or in reality, and I couldn’t face another loss.

  Not today.

  I needed time to find the numb again. It was inside somewhere, but I’d somehow lost touch with it over the past few months. Just like any old habits, I knew I could locate it, but it might take some time. As I walked over my porch to the front door, I knew that outdoor refuge—sitting in my chair and looking at the neighborhood—could be a big help in that regard.

  When I got to the door, I realized I didn’t have my purse, which meant I didn’t have my key. I tried the door anyway, but it was locked tight, just as I’d left it. I sighed and shook my head. “I could get us in there,” Kevin said.

  “No. There’s a hiding spot for a key in the backyard. When my kids were younger and would sometimes forget their key…their dad was sometimes in no shape to get up and answer the door, so I got one of those stupid fake rocks—you know, that are hollow and have a space for a key?—and put it by the shed steps in the back. They only used it once or twice, but enough that I was glad I’d done it. My parents knew about it, too, just in case Darren called them when I was stuck at work and needed help.”

  He nodded his head, quiet and respectful, and I opened the gate to the backyard and then walked over to the shed. It took me a few moments, but I found the fake rock and, after playing with it for a few minutes to get it open, managed to fish out the key.

  The back door lock was the same as the front, and I steeled myself as I walked toward my house. Was I ready to walk in, to face the emotions, to be hammered once more by life? For surely, that was what I’d have to face…

  I gritted my teeth, turned the knob, and pushed on the door, ready to take the next step.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I was as prepared emotionally as I could have been, but I hadn’t even considered preparing physically. We were barely in the house when the smell hit me. Old garbage. It might have been okay had the house been open. It also probably would have been all right if the house had been warm all summer and things had progressed; instead, winter had happened, and I had no doubt the house had been freezing, including the garbage in the trash. With no electricity to run the furnace, everything inside grew too cold to spoil—but now that things were getting warm, it was all freshly rotting.

  I nearly gagged. “The barrel out front is gone, but I have to do something with this.” I grabbed the trashcan and took it out back, setting it a few feet away from the house, hoping to avoid new fumes from drifting inside.

  Once back inside, I began opening windows. Kevin still stood at the door. “Want some help?”

  “Sure.” Coming inside, he opened the windows in the living room while I took care of the kitchen. When he came back in, he said, “Nice place. Own or rent?”

  Well, it wasn’t nice. It was plain and simple. It was humble, but it was home…and it was nice of him to say that. “Own.” There was still a lingering smell of rotting food, and I at first just thought it was because I’d just removed the trash, but I then realized the refrigerator also had food in it and maybe that was the problem.

  Fortunately, I hadn’t had much in there…but enough that I had to fetch the trashcan and put a new liner in it, having placed the old one in the middle of the backyard. The refrigerator housed lettuce and other vegetables and fruits that had seen better days, as well as smelly hamburger, moldy cheese, and other green leftovers. There were also some TV dinners and microwaveable burritos in the freezer that were completely thawed and disgusting. I filled the sink, satisfied that at least I had running water, even if it wouldn’t get hot, and washed out the refrigerator while Kevin found a shovel and buried all the smelly garbage in the backyard. Then, in spite of the fact that it felt like Kevin and I were on different pages and part of me didn’t want to know, we sat down in my living room and talked.

  We had the curtains opened and enjoyed the natural light, but I located candles and my flashlight before sitting, because I didn’t want to
have to try to find them once the light began to wane. We also found an unopened can of nuts, beef jerky, trail mix, and peanut butter in addition to the snacks Susana had packed for us. We’d eaten such strange meals over the past few months that those items almost felt like a gourmet meal.

  I could feel something unspoken hanging in the air, but I was afraid to ask…so I was happy talking about other things. Just after sitting down we got up again, because I decided to give him a small tour of my little three-bedroom house. My kids’ rooms were just like they’d left them back in late August before they’d headed to school. Kyleigh’s looked like a mixture of a girl reluctant to leave her childhood behind while at the same time yearning to be a woman. She had a collection of teddy bears, both large and small, poised in different areas of her room. If I had to guess, she’d chosen to keep them as a reminder of her father. Darren had constantly given Kyleigh new teddy bears at Christmas, birthdays, Easter, and anytime he had an excuse to. And she also had mementos of earlier times, like the preteen jewelry box she kept her earrings in and the kitten poster hanging on the wall. The budding adult inside, though, preferred the posters of young movie actors she’d hung on her wall, along with a makeup mirror she’d left behind and ten pairs of shoes she thought she could live without while at school. Kevin smiled and said it reminded him of his daughter.

  Next, we went to Tanner’s room. Tanner was a self-professed nerd, and his room showed it. There were pieces of computers everywhere on his desk, dresser, and bookshelves—cases, motherboards, hard drives, and other components I could neither name nor recognize. He had posters in his room too, but they were all techie. The big one over the head of his bed was the periodic table. “Son?” Kevin asked, and I nodded. “Smart kid?” Another nod.