American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow (10 page)

            Trippy
began to scream instantly, the pain in his hand flaring like a pile of
magnesium hit with a spark.  He began to go down on his knees, but Rick raised
the hand high, not letting him.  He could not stand, and he could not go down,
and that caused the pain to increase to the point where the man was about to
pass out.

            Rick
slowly lowered the hand, but kept the hold, allowing the home invader to go to
his knees.  Rick grabbed a handful of wispy beard, jerking Trippy’s face up so
he could look him in the eye.

            “I
see you smacked our friend around a little before we got here,” he referred to
the dark bruise growing on Jonathan’s cheek bone.  “For that alone, I should
snap your damn neck.”

            Trippy
looked into the dark blue eyes staring at him and tears began to course down
his face.  He knew this man could do it, and easily.  He could also see that he
wanted
to do it.  He tried to speak, to beg
for his life, but the words would not come.  His throat was locked up in fear.

            Gordy
and Jimmy walked into the kitchen; saw the man laying unconscious on the floor,
and the one being held by Rick.  They also saw the bruised face of their
friend. 

            “Everything
under control, Rick?”

            Without
looking away from the man he was keeping in a very painful grip Rick replied,
“No problems, Gordy, just about to have a talk with this guy about other
people’s belongings.”

            “That
old man there, he’s a good man; and you pigs came here to hurt him, take what
didn’t belong to you.  Jonathan, it’s your house.  What do you want me to do
with these two?”

            Jonathan
Cambrey sat silent, old eyes far away from this moment in time.  When he looked
at Rick it was plain to see that the old man was tired, world weary.  Jonathan
stood up from his chair, walking towards the long hallway that led to his
bedroom.  Just before he entered the room he had shared with his wife for many
good years, he turned back and said softly, “Let them go, Rick.” 

            Rick
wanted to protest, choosing instead to honor the man’s wish in his own home. 
He released Trippy, letting him stand.  Mike lifted the other man to his feet,
slapping his face to rouse him.  Screamer’s eyes opened slowly, taking a long
moment to remember where he was.

            The
men took both of the intruders outside.  “Listen to me boys; I don’t give one
fuck about either of you.  But I want you to know that if I see you anywhere
near this place ever again I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in you, and I damn
sure won’t say ‘Hi’ before I do.”

            “Get
the hell out of here, and do NOT come back here,” Gordy told them.  They stood
watching the two thieves until the darkness swallowed them.

            “Would
you have really killed them?” Jack asked.

            “For
just a second there I really wanted to bash that guy’s face in.  I wouldn’t have
killed him, though.  They’re trying to survive, I get that, but survival
doesn’t have to mean losing your damn humanity.  Besides, they have to be
pretty stupid to think hording gold is going to make a difference now.  Food
and ammunition are the real currency now.”

Chapter 12

            Mike,
Jimmy and Sam spent the next week on what Mike started calling “Grab-n-Stab”. 
In that time they were able to clear the entire length of Saverton Drive to
Highway E, including the short Sherman trail that branched off at the southern
end of Saverton Drive.

            Each
new door they approached was a possibility that one or all of them could be
seriously injured or killed.  A lot of their time was spent simply going slow
and being cautious.

            Every
building was also a treasure hunt.  They found food and bottled water in nearly
every house.  Ammunition of various calibers was in abundance as well, though
they found few guns, mostly shotguns and hunting rifles.  Once everything was
collected from just this stretch of road they would have a nice storehouse of
goods.

            Several
more chainsaws were found, as well as mowers and lawn tractors.  Some would
start; others Sam thought would run with the right parts and maintenance. 

            One
house they felt must have belonged to a dealer of prescription medications. 
Boxes of empty pill bottles were found under a bed, which led the men to
believe that the house may hold some secrets.  After an hour long search, they
found two loose wall panels that hid several small boxes of bottles filled with
pills.  These they took back to Jan, who was pleased with the find, citing that
they would always have need of prescription strength painkillers, which is what
most of the pills were.  She stressed to them that they watch out for
antibiotics of any kind.

            Two
houses had locked metal gun cabinets, for which they were unable to find keys. 
The cabinets were left until they could bring back tools with which to pry them
open.

            The
men found far more dead and decaying bodies than they did reanimated ones.  Of
all the buildings they had searched since the horse farm, everything from
houses to sheds to barns, they only encountered six of the living dead, none of
which had posed a great threat to the men.

            One
of the best finds, especially for Sam, was in a garage on Sherman Trail.  After
clearing a small, neat house, they stopped to take a break, sitting down at the
kitchen table.

            Opening
a bottle of water, Jimmy looked at the two men with him for a moment, and then
asked, “Do you guys think we’ve had it too easy?”

            “What
do you mean, “Too easy”? Mike asked in return.

            “Well,
I guess I mean has it been too easy.  Everything that’s happened so far, that
is.  Everything around us has gone nuts.  If it’s not face-eating zombies, then
it’s psycho bastards killing people.  Yet we escaped Hannibal, got to the
island like we planned, then right away we move up to the camp.  We meet a nice
old man who’s willing to share his food and help us.  We find tools and working
equipment that seriously make life up here so much easier.  I don’t know, I
just seems like…”

            “Like
you’re waiting for Lucifer’s Hammer to fall?” Sam asked.

            “Exactly,”
Jimmy said, “and that was a great book, by the way.”

            “Seemed
fitting.  I’ve been feeling the same way.  Everything I’ve ever read says that
an EMP will send us back to the 1800’s.  Maybe it depends on the type of EMP or
severity of it.  Maybe if it was a solar type it would be worse.  It’s hard to
say.  But we have some great advantages and I’m not going to look too hard at
them.”

            “Sam’s
right, Jimmy, I wouldn’t analyze it so much.”

            Jimmy
chuckled, “That’s the same thing Tam said to me.”

            “I
get what you’re saying, I really do.  I still can’t believe we’re in this
shit.  I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up in front of the T.V. with some
old Romero flick on.  We’ve been damn lucky to this point, and I think we take
it and keep going.  Really if you look at it, it isn’t luck.  We’re just
finding and using things others have left behind.”

            “I
know, Mike, and you guys are probably right.  We can’t trust lives to luck
though.”

            Jimmy
stood up, pacing around the small kitchen.  These thoughts and more had been
weighing on him lately.  He found it difficult to simply set them aside, even
if his friends were right.

            When
he stopped pacing he found himself standing in front of a small closet or
pantry door.  Opening it he stood there for a moment, staring inside, and began
to laugh. 

            Sam
and Mike looked at him, wondering if he had just went over the edge when Jimmy
bent over, picked something up and turned around.

            He
held a box labeled Bat Creek Brewery, and inside the box were twelve 22 ounce
dark brown bottles.

            “Holy
shit!” Mike said.

            From
Sam, “Nice!”

            The
local nano-brewery was located about twenty miles from Hannibal, in Bowling
Green, and it was a favorite of many in the group.

            “Tell
me there’s a Machine Shed Stout in there, please.”

            Jimmy
laughed, knowing that would be the first thing Mike said.  “It looks like a
sampler box, four or five different brews in here.  I guess luck has its part
to play in everything, doesn’t it?”

            “We
are
not
leaving that here, even if I have to carry it all the way back,”
Mike told his companions.

            “I
think we will be more than willing to help get it home,” Sam told him.

            Jimmy
placed the case of beer on the table, “Well, let’s do the garage and call it a
day.”

            The
other men groaned loudly, ready to head home with their days loot.  “Let’s get
it done, I want to get back, put those in the river for a couple of hours and
let them chill.” 

            Sam
and Jimmy simply nodded in agreement.

            Mike
opened the connecting door to the garage, noticing that there was no natural
light.  The room was dark except for the light from the house, which seemed to
get just inside the door and stop.

            All
three men clicked on the flashlights they carried, shining them into the room. 
They stood there for a moment, absorbing what they saw.

            “That,
my friends, is a 1949 De Soto Custom.”  Sam went straight to the car, as the
other two men swept the garage. 

            Standing
in front of the car, Sam stroked his hand over the dark maroon colored paint, feeling
the coolness of the metal in his palm.  “This is a classic piece of car right
here,” Sam said, slowly walking around it.  “This thing looks all original, I’d
even bet the engine is too.  Damn this is sweet, someone put a lot of work into
this, really took care of it.” 

            “It
looks like Sam has finally found himself a woman.”

            All
three laughed, even as Sam told Jimmy to “shut it.”

            They
found a wall rack with keys hanging in the kitchen, and Sam picked out the key
he knew would fit on the first try.

            Slipping
in behind the wheel, Sam took a moment to run his hand over the upholstery and
steering wheel.  “This thing is so sweet.”

            “So
you’ve said, see if it starts,” Mike told him.

            Sliding
the key into the ignition, Sam paused for a moment, saying a quiet little
prayer that the car would turn over easily.   His prayer was answered when he
turned the key.  The car grumbled to life, its low rumble giving Sam goose
bumps.

            The
group cheered, ecstatic over the find. 

            “Shut
it down Sam, you’ll draw every gut-sucker within four blocks if you don’t.” 

            Sam
cut the engine, though he still wore a huge grin on his face.  “I think we should
load up the car with everything we can take that might be of use, and head
back.  Having this car will make our Grab-n-Stab runs a lot faster.”

            They
took their time searching the house, loading everything they could think of
into the back seat and the massive trunk. 

            “You
have to wonder why someone would just leave the car, even if they left in a
hurry,” Jimmy told the others.

            “There
you go again, Jimmy, punching a gift horse in the mouth.”

            Laughing
loudly, Jimmy said, “Punching?  Mike, anyone ever tell you that you have a
unique way with words.” 

Chapter 13

            Work
continued to progress quickly on the wall, reaching the end of the ditch
Jonathan had dug two days before the car was found.  The railroad ties looked
impressive and imposing standing darkly against one another.  The trees that
had been felled to complete that portion of wall had been trimmed to fit as
tightly together as the ties did.

Clearing the area of trees on the opposite side of the
road began as soon as the wall work had stopped.  The straightest trees were
laid out on the ground, and Jack had taken the job of trimming them with the
smaller chainsaw.  Those that were too crooked and bent to use were set aside
to be cut up into firewood.

The women of the group stepped in when not working
with children on their lessons, or taking care of the many various camp duties
everyone shared.  With four chains saw going, and Jonathan still operating the
trencher, they were able to put up fifteen feet of wall on the other side of
the gate, fortifying the Camp’s front entrance.

Excitement over the new car, as well as the beer,
rippled through the camp.  The long days of working to set up a safe haven for
the group tended to take a toll on people, so whenever there was something to
find joy in, they took it.

The beer was enjoyed by all of the adults that
evening, and many of the children took turns ‘driving’ the De Soto.  Though Sam
felt protective of the car, he kept silent and let the kids have their fun
playing behind the wheel.

Songs were sung, people talked and laughed, and for a
brief moment in time they all felt normal. 

The following morning would remind them all that
normal had an entirely new meaning.

****

            The
next morning Jimmy and Tamara were up earlier than the rest of the group.  They
sat on their sleeping bags on the floor; arms around each other, watching the
first hints of dawn tinge the black sky through the windows. 

            As
dawn slowly brightened into daylight, others began to stir, and Jimmy asked Tam
to go outside and join him on the front porch for a while.  He wanted to extend
the rare quiet time they had, even if by just a few minutes.

            They
stepped carefully, so they would not walk on anyone, and went quietly through
the front door. 

            Out
on the porch, Jimmy slipped his arm around his wife, pressing her backward
against the porch railing and leaning in for a kiss.  Just as his lips touched
hers, Tamara jumped and screamed, their faces mashing together as she tried to
get away from the hand that was now holding her arm tightly.

            Jimmy’s
lip split when his wife’s teeth mashed against him, he could feel the blood
running through the beard over his chin.  He paid no attention to his own pain,
only his wife mattered.

            The
gray-mottled rotting hand that held his wife’s arm through the spindles in the
railing would not let go.  He began to hammer at it with his fist, but the dead
thing would not release his wife. 

            Tam
was fighting to pull away as the zombie was trying to pull her hand through the
railing.  Jimmy knew that if she wasn’t released soon the creature would break
her arm as well as take a bite out of her wrist.

            He
flicked a look over at the sound of the door opening; Mike charged through the
door with Rick and Gordy close behind.  It only took a moment for Mike to see
what was happening; he stepped over to Tam quickly, waved Jimmy back and with
one great swing brought his SOG Kukri down, severing the hand that gripped
Tamara.

            Tam
had been struggling to pull away from the death grip and stumbled forward,
falling to her knees on the porch.  She clutched at the hand that was still
wrapped around her wrist, trying to pull it away, but was having difficulty
seeing through the tears filling her eyes.  Jimmy reached out, took hold of the
gory stump and yanked the hand away, tossing it out into the gravel parking
area. 

            “Stay
with Tam,” Rick told him.

            The
zombie that had grabbed Tam walked around the side of the porch just as Mike
and Rick stepped down.  The slow moving undead thing lunged for Rick, as he was
the closest.  Rick swung his Ka-Bar fighting knife up in a sweeping arc, biting
deeply into the wrist that still had a hand attached to it.  The knife lodged
in the tendon and bone and Rick used it as leverage to pull the zombie forward
while thrusting a foot out, snapping a kick into its abdomen.

            The
blade popped free and the zombie was flung backwards, landing on its back. 
Rick kept his footing, brought up his .45 and snapped a shot into the creatures
face.  The bullet exploded the right eye, cored a bloody channel through soft
rotting brain tissue, and exited with a huge burst of pink mist. 

            Turning
back to the porch to check on his friends, Rick caught movement in the dark
shadows next to the house.  Moving sideways to get a better vantage on whatever
moved there he glanced up to those on the porch and saw what the others had
not.  Coming around the other side of the front porch were two more undead
creatures. 

            “Guys,
other side!”  Rick said as the thing lurking in the shadows stepped into the
light, showing a face that looked as if it had been clawed by a large cat. 
Long strips of rotting skin hung nearly to the zombie’s shoulders; viscous
blood dripped down on its shirt with every step.

  
         The people on the porch had begun to shout, turning the zombie’s
attention from Rick toward them.  Rick waved his arms, yelling at the creature
to keep it focused on him.  He would have to trust that his friends could
handle the others.

            While
Rick was distracting his zombie, Mike had stepped up to the railing of the
porch, attempting to draw the other two up so that he could kill them with an
easy swing of his blade while keeping them on the other side.

            Mike’s
idea worked, the two zombies shuffling quickly over the uneven ground to the
side of the porch rail.  He lodged his blade deep into the skull of the first
zombie and struggled for a moment to withdraw it. 

            Just
as the blade came loose with a wet squelch Jimmy came up beside him and began
stabbing the next zombie with the Kershaw folder he always carried.  Jimmy kept
stabbing even as the creature toppled forward, hanging up on the top railing. 
Mike finally laid his hand on Jimmy’s wrist as gore began to fly through the
air, splattering them both.

            Jimmy
looked at Mike, trying to jerk his arm away.  Rage and fear played across his
face, distorting his features into a mask that frightened even his closest
friend.  He had been silent through this, and now everyone else that had come
outside was silent too, seeing something that few had even guessed at in Jimmy.

            Just
as silently, tears began to run tracks through the blood on his face.  “I’m
sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, repeating it several times, though no one was sure
who he was speaking to or what he was sorry for.

            “You’re
good, man,” Mike told him, “everything is good.”

            Jimmy
looked at his friend, confusion now taking the place of fear.  “Good?”

            “Yeah,”
Mike told him, placing his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and looking him in the
eyes, “good.”

            Jan
stormed out of the house, breaking the silence and the tension.  “Is anyone
hurt, or bitten?”

            After
that there was a time of bustling activity and quiet conversations.  Everyone
wanted to know what had happened, how the zombies had found their way to the
camp.

            Gordy
immediately sent Rick and Sam out to patrol the area in the growing daylight,
to ensure that no other zombies lurked near the camp. 

            Jimmy
sat inside the house with Tam, who he let sob into his chest for nearly an
hour.  Ashley and Miranda, like most children, were frightened and confused at
seeing their parents in so much distress.  They stayed close, for their own
comfort as well as to comfort their parents.

            Jan
went around to every member of the group, checking that each person was
unharmed.  She cleaned the gory detritus from the men who had fought the
creatures, just to be certain they were uninjured. 

            The
rest of the day was long and tense.  No work was done that day, to keep the
camp quiet.  Mike, Jimmy and Sam stayed home as well.  They had no desire to
leave their families.

            The
safety they had just begun to feel was shattered on a quiet morning that should
have been just like any other day.  But the group as a whole was realizing that
every single day was something different, with its own challenges and
surprises.  Happiness, and even joy, could rise each morning with the sun, but so
could death and disaster.