Wormwood Dawn (Episode II) (4 page)

After having to stop several times to reload the Jeep with the bodies that kept falling out, Dan and Drew had finally loaded them up in Dan’s car, and “disappeared it” in the nearby lake. Now the garage was ready to accommodate their new prize; a shiny new, armored Humvee.

They spent the evening loading up all of the extra magazines, inspecting the rifles, and trying on the body armor to find pieces that fit them. Once they had gathered up a full suit each, they laid them out, standing over them to admire their work. Pauli stood nearby, looking up at them curiously with his bulging eyes and jutting bottom teeth.

“If we need to,” Dan said, “we could dress like them and sneak into some of the detention centers to set people free.”

“Oh boy,” Drew said. “You already almost got blown up, and you wanna take on a whole army?”

“What?” Dan joked, cupping his hand behind his ear. Drew laughed, handing Dan a glass of whiskey.

“To victory,” Drew said, holding up his glass, “and many more.”

They clinked glasses, taking a nice big gulp of whiskey before plopping down on the couch. It had been a rough day, and they both needed a little relaxation time. The whiskey was just the bonus. It felt warm going down, and the sensation put a smile on their faces.

“I was thinking about what Shirley told us,” Dan said, “about how this area would go to shit. The bulletin board mentioned how Gephardt was planning to destroy the major cities. If they are evacuating them, where would they take the people?”

“I don’t think they’re evacuating the people,” Drew said. “Just themselves. They’ll leave the people to die.”

Drew was probably right, Dan realized. Why not just kill everyone off and start new. Everyone who was able to survive on their own was a liability for them, anyway. Starting a new fascist regime would be easier with people who flocked to them for help. Helpless people are easier to control.

This all seemed too much like the perfect setup.

“I wonder why the mercs were there at Shirley’s,” Dan wondered. “It’s like they were going house to house to round people up.”

“Probably,” Drew said. “That means they’ll eventually come here; especially if they had called for backup during the firefight.”

“Shit,” Dan whispered. “Maybe she was right. We should leave.”

Drew sighed. “Eventually.”

They sat silent for several moments, sipping their whiskey and enjoying the mild buzz that crept up on them. Dan drank more slowly than usual, Shirley’s words having stuck in his head. He was too much of a lush to do anything worthwhile. Drunken losers don’t make good survivalists.

“I wonder if anyone knows where people are going,” he said, finally. “Maybe there are new forum posts on the bulletin board.”

“You left the laptop on,” Drew said. “The battery’s probably dead. And, I gotta tell ya, running that generator at night makes me nervous.”

Dan got up to check the laptop. There was still one-third of the battery left. That should be enough to browse for a half hour or so. He refreshed the screen and reloaded the bulletin board. There were no new videos, but some new forum posts. Perhaps he should write one himself.

“Should we post the story about the cat?” he asked Drew, “or maybe the hunter-thing?”

Drew got up and sat at the corner of the table. “Might be a good idea,” he said. “Maybe it will attract some attention. Don’t forget to tell everybody how I chopped its head off.”

Dan chuckled, clicking the
new post
button.

He described the night in question with great detail; how Drew had found the cocoon, their effort to burn it, its appearance, and the howl that almost seemed to attract the shufflers that had attacked. He added the floating body in the creek, and its appearance later on when it had emerged from underneath the house. And then, at Drew’s request, Dan detailed the battle, emphasizing Drew’s barbarian-like beheading of the beast.

After clicking the
post
button, Dan sat back. “Well,” he said. “Now we wait.”

“Click that,” Drew said, pointing at a post that was entitled
New York City Update.

“Citizens fleeing from New Jersey,” Dan began reading, “report that parts of New York City have been annihilated. After a massive firefight between Gephardt Security and National Guard troops, a blinding light swallowed the entire island of Manhattan, leaving it in ruins. The nature of the explosion suggests nukes, but there has been no confirmation. Witnesses from miles away described a blast, light, and heat wave similar to what they have seen in news reels capturing nuclear testing in the Nevada desert. No one is certain whether the destruction was meant to destroy the hordes of mutants that had overrun the borough, or who had done it. Signed, Strahd71.”

“Jesus,” Drew said. “Manhattan.”

“It’s that Strahd71 again,” Dan said. “I wonder if he runs the forum, and where the hell the server is located.”

“How do they still have the power to run it?” Drew wondered.

Dan looked at his cell phone. It was almost dead. “I better charge it for a while. Laptop, too. But you’re right. They must have solar, or big generators.
Big
generators.”

Drew thought for a moment, then stuck his finger up in the air. “There’s a wind farm near Greencastle, I think. I know it’s around there somewhere. Maybe the station relocated there and took their people with them. This Strahd71 might have worked for the station when it was operational.”

Dan pulled the generator’s starting cable, adjusting the choke until the engine smoothed out. “This piece of shit won’t last much longer.” He went back to the table and poured more whiskey in his glass. “He doesn’t seem like the techie type. Maybe a blogger.”

“He’s obviously paying attention, though,” Drew said. “But I wonder how he’s getting all of this information.”

Dan shook his head. “This underground shit must be bigger than we think,” he said. “I just wonder how many other bulletin boards there are.”

“Well, once all of the cell towers are destroyed, there won’t be any.”

Dan lit a cigarette, fishing his bottle of pills out of his pocket. He took the last Vicodin, hoping it would calm his nerves. Reading the post about possible nukes had jarred him a little. The whiskey was helping, but a little kicker ought to do it better.

He looked at the battery indicator on his laptop. It was almost half charged. The cell phone was still only a third of the way. “We’ll leave the generator going for a while longer,” he said. “I want to make sure everything is fully charged. Plug your phone in, too.”

Drew fished out his cell phone. It was dead. He hadn’t used it at all since he had arrived. “Man,” he said. “I forgot I even had it. The funny thing is, I haven’t missed it at all.”

Pauli appeared beside them, whining.

“Shit,” Dan said. “I forgot about the dog. I bet he’s hungry.”

He got up, gathering a few cans of sardines he had stashed in the cupboard. He wasn’t sure if dogs liked tiny little shitty fish, but opened them and scooped them into a bowl nonetheless.

Pauli liked tiny little shitty fish.

“Nasty little fucker,” Drew said, smiling as he plugged in his phone. “I’m beat, man. Think I’ll lie down for a while. Wake me up if the world ends again.”

Dan turned the dial on the portable propane heater, pushing the ignition button to start it up. He sat cross-legged in front of it, holding his hands out to feel the comforting warmth. The fireplace was dying down, he noticed, but he was reluctant to go outside to bring in more wood.

Pauli sat down next to him, wagging his stumpy tail and leaning his head against Dan’s leg. Dan reached down to scratch his head.

“You’re alright, Pauli,” he said. “Just don’t go mutant on me.”

There was a dinging noise that came from the laptop. Dan got up and sat down in front of it, seeing the phrase
reply posted
flashing in red in the bottom right corner of the screen. Curious, he clicked it.

Strahd71 wrote:

That sounds like a pretty fucked up night. Good description and nice job taking out the baddies. If you look on the main page, you’ll see an icon that looks like a dialog balloon from a comic book. Click that and you’ll see a list of users online. You can chat with them there.

Dan went back to the main page, looking for the chat balloon. It was there plain as day along the menu bar at the top. He clicked it, and a list appeared in the bottom right hand corner. Strahd71 was among the few users who were currently online. When he clicked the name, a chat box popped up. Before he could start typing, a red camera symbol began to flash. He clicked it, and another window appeared; small, square, and flashing the words
, connecting now.

After a few seconds, his webcam light turned on and a man’s face appeared in the box. He was bald—on purpose—round faced, and sported a strangely friendly smile. Dan leaned in to get a better look. The video was shitty; choppy and low resolution.

“Hey, man,” the guy said; his voice uncharacteristically soft and pleasant. “What’s up?”

Dan nodded. “Hey. That’s pretty bad video.”

The guy chuckled. “Well, what do you expect from a cell phone network?”

Dan shrugged. The guy continued. “I’m Jake,” he said. “My handle is Strahd71. I just read your post, and it sounds like some pretty whacky shit. Where are you at?”

“Just south of Martinsville,” Dan replied. “Near the state forest.”

“Ah, okay,” Jake said. “That’s not too far from Bloomington. Not a good place to be, brutha.”

Dan shrugged again. “This is my home,” he said. “I have no plans to leave unless I have to.”

Jake pursed his lips, nodding in agreement. “I take it your name is Dan?”

Dan remembered signing his post with
Dan308
;
a nod to his favorite rifle. “Yep, that’s me.”

“Good to meet you, Dan,” Jake said, offering a virtual handshake. “So it’s just you and your buddy, then?”

“Yeah. Just us, a dog, and a shit load of guns now. We took out a patrol of mercs down the street. Those guys were stocked up something fierce, but they were a little green, I guess.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, but you gotta remember these are the guys who couldn’t get in the actual military for one reason or another. Usually because they couldn’t pass the psych eval, but sometimes just because they were idiots. Either way, they’re perfectly willing to fire on American citizens, so as they say,
you’re hired!
”

“Right,” Dan said, feeling a little sick at the thought. “Have you seen any actual military?” he asked. “I only saw one group on the very first day. They had a road block on 37, but after they let me through, I never saw them again.”

“Yeah, they were probably National Guard from Bloomington. It didn’t take long for the Gephardt guys to swarm and chase them off. The security firm is more heavily armed than the weekend warriors, but when the active troops started showing up, they fled, too.”

“The active military is around?”

“In some places,” Jake said. “They’ve liberated a few detainee camps around the smaller cities, but they’re taking them to other quarantine areas that aren’t much better than where they were. But at least they’re safe, right?”

Dan shrugged. “I guess so. I’d rather be out here. It’s dangerous, but at least I can do whatever I want.”

“I would be careful,” Jake said. “Plans are to take out the bigger cities. The mercs are destroying everything, even the survivors. Whoever is in charge doesn’t want anyone around who knows how to think.”

“Who
is
in charge?” Dan asked. “Does anyone even know?”

Jake shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said. “The only thing I’ve heard is that the President was in communication with the military for a while, but then his plane went down. A little odd, I think.”

“So he didn’t give the order, then?”

Jake shook his head. “No. He’s an idiot, but he loves his country, unlike the last guy.”

Dan sat back, sipping his whiskey. A beer sounded good, too. “I’ll be right back, man,” he said, getting up to fetch a beer from the deck.

The air was still outside, but he could almost feel a storm coming on. The smell of distant rain was present, and that thick, humid feeling hung there around him. He quickly slid the door closed and sat back down, cracking open his beer.

“You got beer?” Jake asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Dan said, holding it up. “Five finger discount. There are tons of little stores around; not to mention a few neighbors.”

“Anyone left alive?”

“Not really. There was a couple down the street a ways. Gary and Linda. When we found Linda, she was alive, but she had killed Gary when he got sick. Then she blew her brains out.”

Jake shook his head in sorrow. “Sad, man. Some people just can’t handle it.”

“Then there’s Shirley even farther down. She’s alive and kicking. She’s a survivalist, with some pretty good rifle skills. Her house is where we took on the mercs. They had it under siege… or maybe it was the other way around.”