No Easy Hope - 01 (19 page)

Ethan laughed and shook his head, then raised a hand and pointed to the western sky.

“Because there’s a storm rolling in, and I would hate to see your fancy tools get all wet.”

I looked where he was pointing, and sure enough, there was a massive thunderhead moving in our direction.

“Uh…right.” I said, embarrassed.

Ethan laughed again and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Drive her around front, partner. I’ll get the container moved for you.”

I drove the truck back around to the front of the warehouse and waited while Ethan climbed into a forklift parked under a makeshift carport. He drove the forklift around to the near side of the container, used the fork to lift it off the ground a few feet, and pushed it forward. I noticed there were two wheels welded to the other side of the container. Clever design, that. The undead wouldn’t be able to move the heavy container in the direction needed to get in, but the forklift could move it with ease if they needed to drive something inside. Like many forklifts, the one Ethan drove ran on propane. I guessed that they must have a stockpile of canisters somewhere.

Once the container was far enough out of the way, Ethan lowered it and climbed down from the forklift. He walked over to the rolling steel door and slapped it with his hand three times in rapid succession.

“Earl, open the gate!” He shouted.

A moment later, the gate slowly started to rise. I could hear the sound of a chain being drawn through a pulley, and after a minute or two, the door was high enough to drive my truck through. A massive man with dark ebon skin and a shiny bald head stepped out and waved for me to drive in. I pulled forward and drove into the gloom of the warehouse. The large black man motioned for me to follow him, and I parked the truck beside a long row of shelves laden with all manner of containers. By the time I got out of the truck, Ethan had moved the blue shipping container back into place. The man who I assumed must be Earl walked back over to the garage door and pulled the chain to lower it. When it reached the concrete floor, he used two large padlocks to secure the door to irons rings set into the cement.

Once the door was secure, he made his way back over to where I stood beside the truck. He held out a hand big enough to swat condors out of the sky, and grinned broadly, his brilliant white teeth standing out in contrast to his dark skin.

“How you doin’. Name’s Earl.” He said, his voice surprisingly high pitched for a man his size.

“Eric Riordan, nice to meet you.”  I replied as I shook his massive, calloused hand.

Just as I suspected, he was strong enough to crush bricks. Something popped in one of my knuckles as he gave it a firm squeeze. He noticed my pained expression and quickly released my hand, his smile fading a bit.

“Sorry bout that. Don’t know my own strength sometimes. Hope I didn’t hurt you.”

I flexed my fingers, and everything seemed to be in good working order.

“No problem, I’m fine.” I gestured at the massive expanse of the warehouse.

“Nice place you got here.”

“Yeah, it ain’t too bad. Long as you don’t mind livin’ in a big ass cave.”

I laughed at that one.

“I guess it beats the alternative, right?” I replied.

“Yeah, I guess it does at that. How bout I give you the grand tour?”

“Sounds good, lead the way.”

 The big man turned and walked toward the other end of the warehouse. On both sides of us, there were stacks of crates and boxes, some of it on shelves and some of it sitting on the bare concrete. Most of the stuff on my right, near where I parked the truck, looked like food and other dry goods. On the left were large stacks of various types of lumber, as well as metal sheets, long square bars that I recognized as raw metal stock for machining, and more barrels than I could count at a glance.

Ahead of us, beyond the storage area, were what looked like wooden shacks built against the warehouse walls. As we drew closer to them, I noticed that the shacks varied in size. Some covered close to eight hundred square feet, and others were smaller and seemed to be made for only one or two people. There were twenty shacks in all, with plenty of room on the warehouse floor for more.

Earl jerked a thumb behind him at the massive piles of supplies.

“Back there is just storage. We got all kinds of stuff over there, and we bring in more all the time. If we ever run out of room in here, there’s plenty more storage space on the factory floor. Most of the production equipment got pulled out of there back when the plant shut down, so it’s mostly just empty space now. We keep the living quarters in here on account of its easier to keep the creeps out.”

I looked around the expanse of the warehouse. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the gloom, I noted that most of the light in the place filtered in from windows near the ceiling. All of the shacks had what looked like metal pipes that extended from their roofs to the windows less than ten feet above them. I figured they were set up to vent heat and smoke from cooking fires. Some of the shacks had candles burning in glass holders.

“Yeah, I guess this place is kind of a fortress. How do you light it up at night?” I asked.

“Candles, mostly. Bill makes sure everybody uses those glass candleholders when we burn em. Says it’s too easy for a fire to break out, everything being made of wood and all.”

“About that, what’s with the shacks? Seems like there should be plenty of room for everyone. Why not just lay out cots and avoid the fire hazard?”

“We did that, at first. Then folks started arguing bout what belongs to who, complaining about people snoring at night, some of the couples got to hurting for some alone time, things like that. Bill said we should build partitions to give everybody some privacy. Turned out to be a good idea, most of the arguing died off since then. Bill’s a good man for thinking up ideas.”

We reached the far half of the warehouse and I saw that each of the shacks had names spray- painted on their fronts in a variety of different colors. Bill’s was one of the smaller ones, about the size of a single bedroom. As I began to study some of the artwork and decorations that adorned the outsides of the shacks, the steel door at the far wall opened and Ethan stepped inside, closing the door behind him and sliding a steel bar in place to secure it. The door opened inward, and anything trying to get inside would have to be strong enough to break through the steel barrier. Smart.

Ethan took a moment to look around, saw me walking toward him, and made his way over.

“You parked down by the rolling door?” He asked me.

“Yeah, why?”

“I need to get that bag out of your truck.”

I had completely forgotten about the heavy duffel bag Ethan brought with him during our escape from the besieged Burger King.

“Oh, yeah.” I said. “What the hell is in that thing? It looks like it weighs a ton.”

“Nah, just about two hundred or so pounds.” He replied, grinning.

“Right, so what’s in it?”

“The most valuable commodity on the face of the Earth, my friend. Ammo, and lots of it.”

A few of the people who had been milling about perked up when he said that. A tall young man and a pretty girl with dyed blond hair that had grown several inches of brown roots approached.

“Dude, did I hear you say you got ammo? Cause that would make my fucking week.” The tall guy asked.

Ethan beamed. “Yup, round everybody up, and call Bill down from the roof. I’m gonna start parceling it out. And as for you little lady,” he said, playfully punching at the young girl’s arm, “I got a gun that you ought to be able to handle just fine.”

“Whatever, douchebag. The only gun I care about handling is Justin’s.” She said, sliding an arm around the young man’s waist.

Ethan turned to say something to me, but right as he was about to speak a door to one of the shacks slammed open and a gorgeous redhead came storming out marching straight for Ethan. She carried a baby that couldn’t have been more than a year old on one hip. Ethan’s expression immediately became serious and he raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Alright, Andrea, calm down…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, damnit! What the hell is wrong with you? Where have you been? Are you trying to give me a heart attack, you thick-skulled idiot? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

She punctuated each sentence with a poorly aimed slap that deflected off the side of Ethan’s arms as he backpedaled away from the woman. The baby, finding the whole situation immensely entertaining, laughed uproariously and flapped his little arms in glee. I couldn’t help but smile. Here was a big, strapping man getting the riot act read to him by a little redhead with a baby on her hip. Classic.

“Baby, calm down! I’m fine, everything is fine. I got the ammo we needed. Can you stop hitting me for a minute?”

Finally, he caught the woman’s arm not holding a baby by the wrist, and brought her close in a tight hug. She struggled for a moment, then buried her head in his chest and clutched him tightly. Her shoulders hitched, and she began to sob. Ethan looked as though he felt like the world’s biggest shitheel, and muttered soothing words to her, stroking her long hair and holding her against him. The baby babbled and reached his little arms up toward Ethan. He took the baby and held him in one arm as he consoled his wife with the other. The people gathered around, me included, stopped smiling. Everyone suddenly seemed to find the ground at their feet acutely fascinating.

“You can’t scare me like that.” Andrea said between racking sobs. “I thought you weren’t coming back. You can’t leave us alone.”

“I’m not, baby. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

The baby seemed to miss the gravity of the moment, and babbled happily as he tugged at Ethan’s beard. Ethan winced, and pulled his head away.

“Come on babe, come see what I got for you.”

Andrea released her hold on Ethan, and used the bottom of his shirt to dry her eyes. She regained some of her composure and reached for the baby.

“It better be good for you to scare me like this, or your ass is gonna be sleeping on the roof.”

Ethan smiled. His grin had an infectious, endearing quality to it. I decided that it must be pretty hard not to like the guy.

“It’s good, honey. Hang out here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Ethan turned away and walked to the storage area. As he left to get the ammo, Andrea noticed me, and she stiffened in surprise.

“Hi, I’m Eric.” I said, giving a little wave.

Andrea flushed, and walked forward offering me a hand.

“Hi, Andrea Thompson. I’m sorry about all of that. It’s just been really stressful lately, with everything that’s happened...”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I shook her hand and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. It must have worked, because she smiled back.

“And who is this little fella?” I asked, holding a hand out toward the baby. He reached for it and gave a high-pitched squawk when he got my index finger in his little fist.

“This is Aiden. Say hi Aiden.” She took his hand from around my finger and mimicked a wave with it. The baby turned to his mother and gave her a sloppy, open mouthed baby kiss on the side of her face. Andrea giggled, and wiped slobber from her cheek.

“He’s a bit of a mess, just like his father.”

“I’m guessing Ethan is your husband?” I said.

“Yes, that’s right. I assume you met him out on the road?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I responded, looking towards the far end of the compound where Ethan was pulling the bag out of my truck. Her smile faltered, and her brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

Before she got a chance to ask any questions, Ethan came back with the duffel bag on a rolling cart. By that time, more people had gathered around to see what was going on. The folks inside the warehouse ran the gamut of ages, ethnicities, and gender. There were four or five old timers, fifteen or so adults anywhere from twenty to fifty-five years of age, and a handful of children. A few of the children were teenagers, but the rest looked twelve or younger. Earl, who had somehow managed to stay quietly in the background during Ethan and Andrea’s theatrics, helped Ethan lift the bag from the cart. A crowd gathered round as the two men opened the bag and started taking out boxes of ammunition and a few guns. Ethan had retrieved the .22 magnum rifle from the back of my truck and wore it strapped across his back. Earl stood up and addressed the crowd, holding out his arms and calling for order.