No Easy Hope - 01 (48 page)

I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t argue with her logic. Ethan
could
do a great deal of good for the Army, especially considering how strapped they were for people with medical training. When I finished eating, I said goodbye to Ethan and his family. Ethan gave me a handshake and a clap on the shoulder. Andrea gave me a hug and made me break out in goose bumps with a kiss on the cheek. Aiden smiled at me and slapped me in the forehead when I picked him up to hug him. Kids. Gotta love ‘em.

I made the rounds and exchanged a few words with everyone I had gotten to know over the last couple of months. I learned that Stan and Cody, along with Earl and his wife Jessica, planned to head out west to Colorado. I wished them luck. Steve, not surprisingly, rejoined the Army and intended to apply for a field commission once he reached Fort Bragg. Lt. Jonas reinstated him at his old rank immediately, and put him in charge of the squad Sgt. Cartwright had once led. Several other people, men and women alike, volunteered to join the military. Everyone else who did not enlist signed a letter of intent stating that they would go to Fort Bragg with Jonas’ unit when they came back through. Justin showed Jonas all of the supplies that the compound had amassed, and the Lieutenant offered to help transport the most useful stuff back to Fort Bragg with them. He agreed to let the compound’s people retain ownership of everything, and divide the supplies up evenly once everyone was safe behind the wall at the base. I found Bill up on the roof with the watch and offered him a parting handshake.

 “You know, you’re a hell of a good leader, Bill.” I told him.

The old man smiled and shook his shaggy grey head. “Son, I wish like hell that were true. Might be a few more folks still alive, if I were.”

“You did the best you could under the worst of circumstances. No one else could have done any better, and most
would
have done a hell of a lot worse. Every person in this building owes you a debt of gratitude.”

Bill thanked me and let go of my hand. “You should say goodbye to Stacy, before you go.” He said, his smile fading.

“I’ll do that. You take care, Bill. Been nice knowing you.”

I stopped outside the door to Stacy’s shack and hesitated for a moment before knocking. When she opened the door, her eyes were red and puffy, but she managed a smile for me.

“I’ve been dreading that knock all morning.” She said.

“Stacy, why don’t you come with me?” I replied. “Its safe, where I’m going. We could…”

“We could what? Get married? Raise children? Is that what you want?”

I didn’t answer.

“Eric, you are a sweet, brave, wonderful man. I love you, I really do, but I can’t leave my father and I can’t leave these people. Some of the children here don’t have parents anymore. Who will look after them if I run off with you?”

“I don’t know.” I said, and looked down.

Stacy placed a hand on either side of my face and stood on her toes. I kissed her for the last time.

“Do you love me?” Those four words again.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t forget me. Stay alive, and don’t give up hope. Find a way to do some good. Understand?”

I was not sure if I really did, but I nodded anyway. I said goodbye to her, and tried very, very hard not to let any tears fall as I walked away. I was not very successful. Ethan caught up with me a few minutes later and gave me a steel five-gallon can of gasoline and a map.

“I’ve plotted out the best routes to get where you’re going. Between this and what fuel you already have in the tank, you should be able to get there just fine.” He said.

“Thanks.”

We stared at each other for a moment, and then Ethan smiled and lifted me up in a bear hug. I laughed and slapped him on the back a couple of times.

“You take care of that family of yours.” I said, as he put me down.

“I will. I hope I see you again someday Eric. I’m glad I met you.”

I wanted to say something heartfelt and meaningful, but I couldn’t get it out past the lump in my throat, so I just smiled. Ethan walked away, and a piece of me went with him.

The drive to Gabriel’s place took two days. Most of the roads Ethan plotted out for me were in bad shape. The storm that came through on my first night at the compound knocked down a lot of trees. Several times, I had to double back and consult my map to find a different way forward. I spent the first night camped out on the roof of a small country store, and marked its location on my map. There were still some good supplies in there that I could come back for. The next day, after dispatching a dozen or so undead who wandered up during the night, I spent another nine frustrating hours navigating around on back roads. I had to stop a few times to siphon gasoline, or kill infected that got too close. It was nearly six in the afternoon on the second day before I finally reached the narrow two-lane road that winds its way up the mountain to Gabriel’s cabin.

My truck kicked up a plume of dust behind me as I pulled into his driveway. Gabriel was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, whittling knife in hand, carving a length of hickory into a short axe handle. Next to him, leaning against one of the posts that held up the small awning in front of the cabin, was a large assault rifle. I recognized it as a SCAR 17 battle rifle, a serious piece of hardware. I got out of my truck and walked up to the porch. Gabe still looked like Gabe. Same black, unkempt mane of hair, same two or three day’s growth of beard, same scars, same scowl.

“Took you long enough.” He said. “Been expecting you.”

I chuckled and sat down in the chair next to him. The sun was just starting to set in the distance, painting the far mountains in hues of red, amber, and gold. The leaves in the trees were a brilliant carpet of sunset colors beneath the afternoon sky.

“I got held up.” I said.

Gabriel just nodded and reached down into an egg crate beside him. He put a bottle of Maker’s Mark and two tumblers on the small table between us and poured a couple of fingers in each glass.

“I was going to give you one more day, and then I was gonna drink this bottle my damn self.”

I smiled. “How many times have you told yourself that?”

One side of Gabriel’s face twitched into half a smile. “’Bout every day for the last two months.”

I nodded. “How you been making out?”

Gabe shrugged. “Not bad. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

“That’s good.”

“What about you?”

My smile faded. “Ran into a little trouble, here and there.”

“I thought as much.”

We didn’t say anything else for a while. We drank our whiskey and watched the sun go down behind the hills.

“I’m glad you made it, Eric. I was starting to get worried.” Gabe said, breaking the silence.

“Well, I’m here now. You can stop worrying.”

I put my empty glass on the table and Gabriel filled it up again.

“So what now?” I asked.

Gabriel was silent for a long moment before answering. “Now we stay alive, and work on making this place more defensible. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Nothing comes to mind, at present.”

I told Gabe about the nuclear plant in Huntersville, but left out anything else. The wounds were still raw, so to speak. I could sense that Gabe had questions, but he kept them to himself.

“Well, nothing we can do about it from here. I doubt that any radiation will make it out this far. Most of the fallout should have been washed away by wind and rain, at this point.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I read a lot.”

I left it at that.

“So what all goodies to you have in the truck?” Gabriel asked.

I got up and lowered the tailgate. Gabe helped me unload all my gear and stow it in his underground shelter. The sun was down when we finished, and brilliant stars lit up the night sky next to a nearly full moon. The cold autumn air was clean and crisp, and smelled of fallen leaves. Gabe started a fire in the stove, and we settled into the two recliners he had placed in front of it.

“Well, welcome home.” Gabe said, as he poured us both another whiskey.

I held up my glass, and Gabe clinked his against it.

“To surviving the end of the world.” I said.

“To surviving the end of the world.” Gabe repeated.

We sat in front of the fire late into the night, sipping warm whiskey, and trying not to think. The next day, we started work on the fence.

Epilogue

I’m sitting in a chair beside the wood stove, watching as Gabriel reads the most recent chapter of my memoirs. Two months have passed since I started writing about the events between the Outbreak, and my arrival here at Gabriel’s property. A cold February wind is howling outside the cabin, no doubt sending a tall bank of snow against the northern wall that the two of us will have to shovel once the weather clears.

Gabe seems a bit troubled by the things he has read. I figured that such would likely be the case, and have prepared defenses to the many criticisms undoubtedly headed my way. Gabe’s brow is furrowed, and he is absently scratching at the thick growth of beard that covers his scarred, weathered face. He is a fierce looking man under the best of circumstances, but when his is confused, hurt, or angry, his countenance can be downright terrifying to those not used to dealing with him. Lucky for me, I am well accustomed to Gabriel’s volatile temper.

“What I don’t get,” He says as he closes the laptop and pinches the bridge of his nose between two thick fingers, “is why you never told me about any of this.”

I look up from my notepad and give him a level stare.

“Are you really saying that to me? Really? Mister ‘I know about a bacteriophage that can destroy the world, but I’m not going to tell you about it until it’s too late.’ Are you fucking serious?”

 Gabe glares angrily at me for a moment, but I meet his gaze with a little anger of my own. It is not long before Gabe looks away.

“You’re right. I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

I can see the weight of all the untold miles, and all the crippling guilt he feels written on his broad, rough face. Gabriel has deeply carved lines around his mouth and eyes, chiseled there by painful memories and years of violence. I have known Gabriel long enough to understand that he is a man relentlessly haunted by his past, and by the legacies of his actions. For all of his massive strength, knowledge, and intelligence, I frequently find myself pitying the big man.

“Not that it makes any difference, now.” I reply as I return to my writing. “We are where we are, and there is no changing that.”

“You say that a lot, you know.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Doesn’t make it any less depressing.”

“Depression is an emotion for which I have not the time, or the inclination, to expend my mental resources.”

Gabriel barks a bitter, mirthless laugh.

“How do you do that? One minute you talk like a backcountry redneck, and in the next breath, you sound like you could make print copy for ribbed condoms read like fucking Robert Frost. Sometimes you talk like a damned James Bond villain. Which one of those Eric’s is the real thing?”

I look up from my writing, and set the pad and pen down on a small table beside me.

“All of them. None of them. Honestly, I don’t know anymore. After spending the better part of two years trapped on an isolated mountain with nobody but a surly, monosyllabic curmudgeon for company, I find myself caring less and less about what specific persona I should be striving to embody. You want to know the truth Gabe?”

“Probably not, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

 I stand up and begin pacing around the room.