Born in the Apocalypse 2: State Of Ruin (5 page)

Chapter 11

“You there! Man with the rifle! Don’t move!” a harsh voice barked at me from across the street, and everyone within earshot turned to see what the ruckus was. A large man, about my size, maybe taller with thinner shoulders, was coming across the road at a brisk clip. He stopped about twenty feet away from me and began shouting at me.

“Take the gun off your shoulder with your left hand! Do it now! Place it on the ground in front of you! Now!” The man, possibly the sheriff, was standing back with his hand on his own gun, practically itching to start something. I wasn’t in the mood to get caught up in whatever the man was trying to do so I just complied as quickly as I could. The gun wasn’t mine, so what did I care, really?

“Back away, back away, back away! Keep your hands where I can see them!”

Seriously, this was getting silly. I stepped back, letting the man do what he needed to do. I wasn’t wanting trouble, I just wanted to get to my friend’s house and then with luck get out of here. I had a long ride home, and I sure wasn’t going to make it today.

The man stepped forward, and I could see as he did the star on his shirt read ‘deputy,’ not sheriff. The other pin read ‘Mahome,’ which I assumed was his name. He picked up the rifle and checked the chamber, pulling the live round out of it. He swung the rifle around to his shoulder, and then faced me.

“Who are you?” Mahome’s tone didn’t change much, but his volume did. He was a big man, clearly used to having some kind of authority over the people around him. My dad had described policemen like him, guys who didn’t really want to serve the public, just order it around. He spoke to me like he disapproved of my existence, which he clearly did.

I found myself annoyed and not willing to be so subservient. “Nobody. Just visiting a friend.” I kept my eyes off of him, making it look like there were hundreds of other things more interesting than he was.

“Who’s your friend?” Mahome asked, agitated because I was vague.

“My business, thanks for asking. Anything else?” I said.

Mahome stepped up close, nearly bumping my hat with his head.

“Listen up, punk. I don’t need a reason to toss you in jail. This badge says I can do just about anything I want, get it? So when I ask you a question, you answer,
get it
?” Mahome punctuated his speech by jabbing me in the chest with his finger.

I really didn’t like that, and without even thinking, I put my hand up and shoved Mahome in the chest, using the strength I had from a lifetime of hard work to propel him backwards and causing him to fall on his butt. He landed hard, and the look on his face clearly showed he was not used to being resisted. His face turned nearly beet red and he grabbed at his gun.

I walked away, since I saw that his gun had fallen out of its holster and had tumbled away out of his reach. Mahome scrambled around, and by the time he had found his gun, I was already too far away to cause another scene with. I noticed as I walked away that a lot of people who had seen the interaction were smiling. I think Deputy Mahome wasn’t as popular with the locals as I suspected he thought he was.

It took me a minute, but eventually I found the Chambers’ house. It was a nice two-story building with several big trees and nice yard. I spent a good two hours there, catching up with Trey. Mrs. Chambers fussed over me the whole time, trying to feed me extra food and grabbing my shoulders, telling me she had no idea I was going to grow up to be such a big, handsome man.

About mid-afternoon, I started to get uncomfortable, and I could see that the family was getting uncomfortable as well. I was a reminder of what they had left behind and what they had lost. They had come here to make a new beginning for their family, and I was part of the past.

We said our goodbyes, and I walked out of their house right into a mess. Sheriff Bowers, with Deputy Mahome standing right next to him, were waiting for me as I left the Chambers’ house.

“Stay where you are, you little shit!” Mahome growled, keeping a hand on his gun. Maybe he was afraid of losing it or something.

“Easy, Jim,” Bowers said over his shoulder. He addressed me next. “Afternoon, son. Jim here says you assaulted him. What’s your side of the story?” Bowers was a man of about fifty, with a large grey mustache and deep blue eyes under bushy eyebrows. Those eyes swept me with an appraising glance, and lingered for a second on the part of my coat that covered my gun. He looked competent, and I noticed he kept his hand near his own weapon, a large revolver of some kind.

“Not much to tell. You deputy there took my rifle, and then poked me in the chest with his finger. I didn’t much care for that, so I returned the favor, so to speak,” I said.

“That’s a lie! I never touched you! I…!” Mahome was livid with rage.

“Jim!” Bowers barked over his shoulder and Mahome quieted. “Are you leaving, son?” The sheriff asked.

I looked around, and there were people standing on the porches of homes up and down the street. Behind me, I could hear Trey and his family walking out onto the porch of their house.

“On my way now, Sheriff. I don’t want any trouble. Just visiting a friend. I brought in a couple of orphans from outside, that’s all. I’ll collect my horse and be gone,” I said.

“Hold it!” Mahome said. “This is bullshit! This kid assaulted me and you’re letting him go? Sir, I have to object!”

Bowers was about to reply when Mahome stepped in front of him.

“Gun! Sir, he’s got a gun!” Deputy Mahome shouted reaching for his weapon.

He got his gun halfway out when he stopped suddenly. My Colt was out and pointing towards his gut. His eyes got huge and it seemed like he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hand.

Sheriff Bowers held his hands out. “Hold it! Nobody shoot! Just hold it!”

I put my gun back in my holster, but I kept my hand on it. “I just want to leave,” I said quietly, keeping an eye on the deputy. “That’s all I want to do.”

Sheriff Bowers kept his hand out, but his other hand was now on his gun. He nodded his head. “And that works out just fine for us, son. You go ahead and gather your horse and head on out.” 

I started walking down the street, keeping my ear cocked for noise behind me. I passed several people standing on their porches and they all watched me walk past. I couldn’t read their faces.

Suddenly, I heard a shout, and I turned around to see Mahome pointing his gun at me. I heard a shot, and something whipped past my head. I fell backwards, and there was another shot. It was loud, and it echoed under the trees. I heard screams, and one person shouted, “No, Josh!” It might have been Trey.

I scrambled to my feet, checked my gun, and found that it was in its holster. Down the street, Sheriff Bowers was kneeling over a prone Deputy Mahome.

The sheriff stood slowly, shaking his head. He walked over to me, and the look on his face was full of sadness.

“Son, it was self-defense, that’s for sure. I don’t know what came over Mahome, but I’d take it as a personal favor if you never came back to Manhattan,” he said.

“I didn’t shoot him!” I protested. “My gun never left my holster!”

“Check your loads, Josh,” Bowers said quietly.

I pulled my gun and sure enough, there was a spent round under the hammer. I felt sick. I liked this town.

“Time to go, son,” Sheriff Bowers said. “And please don’t come back.”

“What if I do?” I said, starting to feel angry.

“I’ll have to tell the men on the wall to take you down. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” Bowers seemed genuinely sorry.

I looked back at Trey and his family, and every single one of them couldn’t look me in the eye.

“He shot at me! That’s not fair!” I said. Even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was useless.

“Maybe not, but a man who don’t know he’s killing is a man I can’t afford to have in this town. You’re unholy fast with that six-gun, son. You might want to leave it behind next time you go to a town,” Bowers said.

I didn’t say a word. I just left. I didn’t look back, left or right. I just walked away from the eyes and the whispers.

I rode Judy all the way home. It was dark by the time I got to the house. I put my horse away and went inside. I spent a long time staring at my gun and the empty shell casing that used to be a man’s life.

I didn’t understand why they didn’t understand. I didn’t want trouble. But they threw me out anyway.

Guess I won’t be seeing my friend anymore.  One more person out of my life.

It was a long time before I was able to go to sleep.

Chapter 12

As the weather warmed up and Spring decided to stick around for a while, I busied myself around the house and the yard. I went through my home room by room, removing the things I no longer needed or felt any connection to. It didn’t make any sense to me to have a bunch of belongings that just gathered dust. To me, I felt like an empty room was more useful.

For a week after Manhattan I was busy, but in the back of my mind, I was restless. It wasn’t fair that I had to leave that town, just because that idiot Mahome couldn’t keep his gun in his holster. I didn’t even know I had drawn my gun.

Oh, well. Who needed a town anyway? I liked my freedom, not walls. I didn’t bother to think about the fact that walls defined our lives these days. Walls to keep the rest of the world out, walls to keep the Trippers out, and walls to keep everyone else out of our lives.

By the second week, I was going crazy. I needed something to do, and I didn’t know what it was. I happened to be at my father’s bookshelf, and just randomly pulled a book out. It was an atlas, and I spent a few minutes wandering the states and wondering what it would be like to see them for real. I focused a long time on Illinois, and suddenly it came to me.

I wanted to see what the rest of the state looked like. I was feeling the urge to look over the horizon, and there wasn’t any way to satisfy that by staying here. As I looked around the house, I began to wonder, and not for the first time, what it was that made me stay here.

My mind having been made up, I began to prepare for the trip. I gathered my gear, and looking it over, I realized I needed to decide on whether or not I should bring Judy. I didn’t know if Kim would be able to care for both her and Pumpkin, or whether or not it was even fair to ask. I thought about my bicycle, and decided that I really needed to think this through.

I decided to enlist Kim to help me with my dilemma, and she answered the call with her usual tact.

“You bump your head recently, or something?” she asked. “Why in hell would you want to leave a safe place, a place that has food, shelter, and water? Makes no sense, Josh. Who will look after Judy?”

When I looked at her, she shook her head. “Uh, no. Pumpkin is a handful already, and I’m pretty sure Judy doesn’t like me. Oh, by the way, here.” Kim leaned over and grabbed my head with both hands, planting a full kiss on my surprised lips. She kept it there for a full count to three, then let go, smiling at my reaction.

“That’s for the necklace, thank you,” Kim said.

I stammered a response while my face blew up in flames. There was no way I was going to tell her I picked up the necklace in a house I raided on my way back from Manhattan. I had told her about the town and the kids, and she was sympathetic about the shooting. She also said it wasn’t fair for me to be kicked out because of Mahome, and I was grateful to have an intelligent neighbor.

In the end, I decided to bring the horse, to keep myself from worrying about her. I also figured she’d be able to carry more than I could, although I wasn’t planning on bringing too much.

Two days later, I saddled Judy up, stuck my Winchester in my saddle boot, shrugged on my backpack, secured the saddlebags, and mounted up. Kim came outside to see me off.

“Take care of yourself, Josh. I’ll watch your place,” she said.

“You’ll be okay? You can come with, you know,” I said. Part of me wanted her to say no, but another part wanted her to say yes.

“No, I’ve done my run. I want to just live. I get why you’re going, and I know I’ll see you again.” Karen put a hand out on Judy’s neck. “Take care of him, girl,” she said softly.

Judy nickered and tossed her head. She knew what the saddle and bags meant, and she was ready for another journey.

“I’ll be back before winter,” I said, looking at the sky.

“If you don’t, I’m taking your stuff,” Kim said with a wink.

I tipped my hat and Kim smiled, and as I walked Judy past, Kim gave me a small wave and suddenly went inside her house. I didn’t know what to make of that outside of she was baking something and had to get it out of the oven.

I hit the trail and headed west, for no other reason than that was the direction I hadn’t gone recently. I turned off the trail to head south for a quarter mile, then back to the west. That route would take me around what was left of the town of Frankfort. Over the last two years, the place had largely been abandoned, the stately homes falling into disrepair after the looters had been through. The shops, what few there were, had moved on and set up themselves in Manhattan.

I had a bitter taste in my mouth when I remembered that place and didn’t bother looking to the south, where I knew I would probably see the smoke of cook fires.

On the other side of Frankfort, I stopped Judy and walked her for a while, stretching my legs and looking around. The land here was pretty open, broken only by the occasional home and barn. There were trees around as well, but nothing like the woods I was used to. I paid attention to the landscape, because once I crossed the edge of Frankfort, I was in a land I had never seen before.

I passed a group of long, low buildings, and as I did, three Trippers spilled out of the broken doors. They blinked in the sun, then started across the hard pavement towards me. Three men, all roughly the same size, with dark red eyes and torn hands. They set up a wheezing and began pursuit.

I put my hand on my bow, then thought better of it as I saw the men progress across the distance between us. They would be on me before I could kill them all.

I climbed up on Judy and gave her a quick kick in the flanks. She didn’t need any more motivation, she leapt away and we quickly outran the Trippers. About fifty yards away, I stopped my horse, dismounted, and took my bow out, pulling three arrows from my quiver. I tracked the closest one and let fly, striking him in the chest and putting him down. The second one got closer, so I put one is his chest as well.

The last one I shot in the head, as he was only thirty yards away. The arrow struck him dead center in his nose, and killed him instantly. I put my bow away and walked toward the bodies, keeping my hand on my gun.

I took the arrows out of their bodies, wiping them on their clothing. I didn’t have many to spare, and if they were still intact, I was keeping them. My gun I would use for emergencies and living men. I hoped I would not have to do much killing of the latter, but as I had seen, some people just made it their choice.