Born in the Apocalypse 2: State Of Ruin (16 page)

Chapter 39

Fall was always a time for preparation, and this one was no different. Firewood needed to be cut, more so than usual since it wasn’t just for cooking. Grass and hay needed to be stored, and trap lines needed to be secured, repaired, and placed in the best locations. The house needed to be looked after, sealing cracks and making sure the cold air couldn’t get in although it always did. Vegetables were canned, fruits were dried.

Every day I was busy with winter preparations, but this time, it was different. I was also preparing to leave. I gathered what I wanted to bring with me in the front room of my house, and the pile was distressingly large. I went through each item several times, weighing its value in the trip. Every time I looked at something in the pile, I asked myself if I needed it or wanted it.

In the end, I decided if I was to have a new home, I would need what made this place a home to come with me. Kim said a new home was what we made of it, but I disagreed. We made a home by what we put into it, and if we take some of those things with us, another place becomes a home that much faster.

I had seen Kim’s pile, and it was smaller than mine, although that was to be expected. She had only been in that house for a short while.

My current problem was figuring out how to transport everything south. I had a lot of goods and three horses. I needed a cart, but nothing like that had been seen around here for a hundred years or better.

I put the problem to Kim and she thought for a long time.

“There used to be horse racing tracks around here,” she said. “I went once with my parents, mostly because I was a little girl and little girls always like horses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, not sure why that was relevant.

“Anyway, there was a track at Arlington, and another one down around here someplace,” Kim said.

“How does that solve the problem?” I asked, getting a little impatient.

“They had horse-drawn carts that they would use to give the kids a ride around the track. At least they did at the one I went to. Maybe they have one at Balmoral.”

“Balmoral?” I asked. “Never heard of it.”

“Why would you? Your dad probably never went there.”

“Any idea where it is?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I have a better lead than I did ten minutes ago,” I said.

“Glad to help!” Kim said as she headed back to her house.

I found my map and spent a frustrating hour searching for a racetrack. Just when I figured to build my own, I spotted the track. It was on the southern end of Crete, a town that was just a few miles south and east of here.

Now that I knew where it was, I could focus on making sure I had what I needed and get it ready for travel. I still thought to leave in the spring. I figured Missy might want to get out for a stretch. Judy was still a good horse, but she had earned a rest from my adventures. Missy would work for this trip, and she got along great with Pumpkin, who was closer to her age than Judy was.

Kim decided to come along, and we all started out in the early morning. I thought I saw some movement in the woods to the south, but I would have to investigate it a little later when I got back. I was packing my Colt and my bow, with as many arrows as I could put in my quiver. I didn’t bring my rifle, since I wasn’t expecting too much trouble. We should be home well before dark.

We followed the same path my father and I did years ago, and the significance wasn’t lost on Kim. She was quiet as we rode east, respecting my own silence.

When we reached Route 1, we headed south, as the map told me Balmoral was on that road. I figured we’d know it when we saw it. Crete was a shambled mess, but there were no Trippers to speak of. As we rode through, it seemed like the main industry in Crete used to be antique stores.

On the outskirts of town, we found signs of people possibly living there; a few homes had some reinforced fences around them along with gardens and cisterns for water. We didn’t see anyone out, so we didn’t bother to stop. I had developed a healthy fear of strangers thanks to my trip around the state.

When we ran out of homes and fences and businesses, I thought we had missed it. But Kim spotted a structure tucked away amid several very large trees, and we finally had found it. The Balmoral race track was larger than I thought it would be, extending over several acres and a couple stories on the main building. A large outbuilding was in front of the main one, and it seemed like that building was used for some sort of ticket sales, given the number of small booths. On the north side, it looked like there were some stables, and on the south, it looked like that was where the parking used to be.

I got off Judy and handed the reins to Kim.

“I’ll look around, and let you know what I find,” I said.

Kim nodded. “Don’t take too long. This place gives me the creeps,” she said, looking into the dark windows.

I felt it too, but I wasn’t going to let Kim know that. “It should be fine, I’m not even going into the main building,” I said. I wasn’t, either. Why would a cart be in the building? I was going to go where the horses were kept, and that meant the stables on the north end.

I walked past the outbuilding and four Trippers spilled out of the back door, stumbling over themselves in an effort to get to me.

“Shit!” I said, stepping back.

I ran wide to try and get around them and back to the horses, but more of them were coming out of the building on the far side.

Kim screamed and Missy was bucking hard, trying to get at the Trippers. It was going to be a disaster if we didn’t do something fast.

“Go!” I yelled at Kim. “Run! Take the horse and run! I’ll get back to the house, just go!”

The Trippers who went out after her heard me yelling and turned to see me. Their limited attention spans forgot her, which was what I hoped for, and focused on me.

“I won’t leave you here!” Kim said, fighting a maddened Missy.

“God damn it, go! I’ll be fine!” I yelled, jogging away from the Trippers and leading them along the front of the main building.

As I moved away, I threw one last look over my shoulder and was relieved to see that Kim had finally listened and she was riding Pumpkin away as best she could while pulling Missy behind.

I ran along the building front and out of every door, Trippers came spilling out. I had no choice but to keep moving north, towards the stables.

Every building I passed vomited more Trippers until I had a horde of at least a couple hundred behind me. Their frenzied wheezing was like a flute from Hell snapping at my ears. I ran in between buildings and around trees. I had no idea where I was going, and just hoped to be able to get away.

Chapter 40

A right turn took me towards what looked like an open area, and as soon as I ran through the gate, I realized I had just run onto the track. There was a huge grassy area and on the other side of it, there looked to be an exit. I ran straight for it, cursing the whole time that I had only brought my Colt with me. I had barely thirty rounds to make a stand, and that wasn’t going to be early enough.

I made it through the gate and my first thought was to turn south, but another group of Trippers were coming out of the buildings in that direction, so I had to keep moving east. North was out of the question, as nothing good ever really came from the north. There was a mess of trees to the east, so I thought I stood a good chance of losing them in there.

The grasses and bushes gave me some trouble, but I was able to get through the worst of them and head through the trees. I waited for a moment, and then heard a hundred feet crashing through the growth.

“Dammit, nothing’s ever easy anymore,” I cursed aloud as I continued my flight. I ran intermittently, trying to get as much distance as I could without tiring myself out. I knew the Trippers could go almost forever, and given the time and distance, they would eventually run me down. I was hoping to cut south and circle back, eventually getting back home, but I kept hearing things around me that said I had to keep moving.

The trees gave way to a road, and I followed it north. It ended at another road running east and west, and I took it east. I jogged for a while, then walked. I didn’t hear anything around me, so I decided to climb up on top of garage roof of a house that was nearby.

As I climbed to the top, Trippers came out of the woods to the south and north of me. Down the road, several more Trippers came into view. All three groups saw me at the same time and doubled their efforts to reach me.

If I could have kicked myself for my stupidity, I would have. All I need to have down was go in the garage and wait for them all to pass. Now they knew where I was and they were on the hunt again.

I swung down and kept moving, and it was going to be hard to lose them because the road was fairly clear. I had no chance to go in any direction but east. In the back of my mind, there was a small voice trying to remind me of something, but I was too preoccupied to notice.

The surrounding land was surprisingly open, except for the fact that there were a lot of Trippers chasing me. I must have ran for about three miles when I suddenly came up short.

Ahead of me was a huge grey barrier that I had completely forgotten about. The wall rose up ahead of me and extended away to the north and south out of sight. There was a smattering of trees growing near the wall, and little else. I looked to the south and north, but there was no heading in either direction. Trippers had been spreading out and gathering reinforcements, and I had a horde of at least three hundred about to encircle me.

“Screw it.” I ran over to one of the closest trees to the wall and started to climb. I was about halfway up when the Trippers arrived, and they wheezed something terrible. I kept climbing and finally was able to jump over to the wall. The tree still had branches all around me, and as the Trippers hit the tree, they grabbed at whatever they could reach, several of the tall ones took hold of lower branches and started pulling on them in a frenzy.

The top of the tree started shaking badly, and the branch I was holding onto nearly pulled me over the side. I stepped back and the tree suddenly came with me, pushing me further back. I took another step and suddenly my foot was stepping down on nothing.

I dropped to one knee, trying to catch myself, but I was overbalanced, and then I was falling. I crashed into a large bush, and struck my head on something hard. Everything went black and I knew nothing more.

I woke up with a headache and the night sky staring back at me. I slowly got to my feet, and put my hand on the wall to stabilize myself. I suddenly pulled my hand away and looked up at the dark barrier in front of me. Everything came back in a rush, and I jerked my hand back like I had burned it and stared at the wall for a full minute. Everything I had heard about it flooded my head, especially what Mack Brewster and Barbara Westgate had told me.

The outside world was full of Trippers, and no one ever came back.

No one.

The End

Read on for a free sample of The Strange Dead

One | Summer 2048: The Field

Nightfall would bring the dead, and Death. But the sun was still pinned to the bright blue of Heaven’s firmament, pitched only slightly westward, away from the mountain wall against which Potter’s Field was buttressed. The warmth of midday was offset by a pleasant breeze, and it was in all-too-brief moments like these that Claire thought she must be feeling what it was to be alive, really alive.

She stood in a wide field at the foot of the mountain, separated from its steep, mossy slope by a high stone security wall. The field itself was fenced off to prevent livestock from wandering into the nearby “suburb,” the encampment’s tent city where residents made their homes. This was the calm part of Potter’s Field, an area graced now and then by gentle laughter, even silence. The suburb had intentionally been set apart from the community’s business end, where the soldiers trained and where, beyond the forward security wall, there was no mountain but a flat expanse of infertile earth which stretched to the horizon like a scab. The unspoiled land of the Field was the mar on this world where nature was rot.

Claire focused on the green grass beneath her feet and the smells on the air. Her horses had just been released from the stable and were fanning out in her direction. A couple trotted directly to her, and she looked up to receive a wet nose in the crook of her neck. Claire jumped with a laugh and patted Boy Blue’s head. Smoothing the black hair matted atop his crown, she thought he needed more than a brushing; all twelve of them, in fact, were probably due for a trip with Claire to the edge of the reservoir. “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him wash his ass.” One of Andre’s many bon mots. Andre hadn’t been by today. Claire cast a glance toward the gravel road which ran beside the fence as she fished through a burlap bag fastened about her waist. She offered Boy Blue a palmful of feed. His younger brother, Rocket, nosed into the exchange, and Claire fetched another handful for him. It was meager in both amount and nutrients, but it was the best she could do for her kids most days. The little bit of farmland the Fielders had managed to cultivate and maintain was used to grow food for the people. Claire had been granted a little corner and a pittance of grains. Despite the importance of the horses – motor vehicles were an indistinct memory, almost like something out of a campfire tale – she received little aid in tending her crop. Andre, when he was on KP (which was more often than most, thanks to his bon mots), would sometimes sneak some carrot shavings into his pockets and bring them to the stable. “Rules are for those who need them,” he’d say. “It’s an equalizer, Clarissa.” Clarissa wasn’t her real name, and he knew that, but she allowed it. “Rules,” he’d go on, “keep the sharks and snakes in check around the mice. For the rest of us, those who just know better than to eat their own, rules are meant to be bent.”

Claire wasn’t sure if she agreed with that. But half the time, even after all these years, she couldn’t tell if Andre was completely serious or not. Fifteen years she’d known the man, most of her life. She’d been seven when he pulled her out of the MCM. Everything before that was a blurred tapestry whose designs only took shape in her worst nightmares. Andre, who was in his twenties then, hadn’t known her before the MCM, and he’d had no luck tracking down anyone who did. But that was the way of things. Sometime around 2028, a big cleaver had fallen from the sky and severed history’s vein.

The other horses had gathered around Claire, and she gave each equal attention. They ranged in age from five to fifteen. Blue was the oldest, and though he may have had many years ahead of him in the world before, Claire was seeing the signs of age. It was her job, had been for half a lifetime. Blue had been her first charge, and she knew he would be the first she lost. She took the brush from her belt and began combing it through his mane. “You’re an old boy,” she said, and smiled a little. Blue stood still, his eye fixed on her, as she worked her way down his coat.

“These guys get better treatment than a general,” came a voice from behind her. She recognized it and chose not to acknowledge it. She heard the man rapping his knuckles on the wooden fence. “Hey, Claire! You in there?”

“Just enjoying the silence,” she called over her shoulder. The man let out a thin laugh. She heard the fence creaking under his weight and bristled. The horses stamped their hooves; it was gentle, but a warning.

“Best stay back, John,” Claire said.

“Why don’t these guys like anyone but you?”

“They like plenty of people,” Claire said, putting the brush away. This wasn’t going to end anytime soon. If there was one thing Johnny Idaho could do, it was talk. Didn’t mean he was any good at it.

She finally turned. Idaho was dressed in his weathered fatigues, though his shirt was open. He cocked his blond head and offered a leery grin. “They like the people you like,” he said.

“They’re good at reading people,” Claire said, brushing a few bits of feed from her palms. “And like I said, you best stay back. Can’t just come walking into their house.”

“I’m one of the reasons they have a home,” Idaho said. His grin was still half-there but, as usual, it didn’t take much to wind him up. “Nice big field to shit in. Some of the families would like the schoolhouse relocated up here by the suburb. Potter says no way.” Idaho hitched up his pants. “I agreed with him.”

“That must have helped.”

“Young lady, a lot of people don’t think about anyone but themselves. I’m a soldier. My job’s about everyone but me.”

Claire nodded, slowly, then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you ever going to leave me alone?”

Idaho snorted, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. At Claire’s shoulder, Blue offered a snort in reply.

“You know what else?” Idaho said, steamrolling right over what she’d asked. “Some people think your animals are a health risk.”

“I don’t need to hear it,” Claire said. “There’s never been a case of a horse being infected. Or a dog, or a bird, or anything else. The bugs don’t work inside animals.”

“Lots of stories, though.”

“If I believed everything I heard, I wouldn’t allow you within fifty yards of me or this field,” Claire said. She hadn’t intended to flare up like that, but she wasn’t about to hear any baseless rumors about her horses.

Idaho looked taken aback. His countenance darkened and he said, “Lots of stories, kid. And people who aren’t so willing to gamble with their lives on these dumb things.”

Claire steeled her expression and said nothing. If it weren’t for the terrible consequence, she would have already sicced Rocket on him. He didn’t know just how loyal her kids were.

Idaho shrugged. “Just wanted to let you know. I think you do good work. Thought you ought to know some of us still appreciate you.”

As if she were some pariah in the community. Claire wasn’t about to let any of this jerkoff’s implications take root in her mind. She turned her back to him and began checking Rocket’s eyes and teeth.

She had the feeling that Idaho was retreating when she heard him call, “Hey, Dozens!” Shit. Hell of a time for Andre to show up.

“What’re you doing in there, Johnny?” Andre called back. Claire heard him clamber over the fence. The horses didn’t react to Andre’s approach. “Hasn’t Claire told you these beasts will bite your dick off?”

Andre stepped into Claire’s view, patting Rocket’s head. “KP?” Claire asked.

“K is for carrot,” Andre said with a smile. He emptied the pockets of his fatigues. Luckily, he knew how to hold out offerings for the horses to take, otherwise Rocket’s lunging bite would have snapped off a few fingers.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Idaho asked. He didn’t step any closer, though.

“Relax, Idaho, this is what they threw out from the mess tent. Unfit for human consumption.” Andre winked at Claire.

“Probably tastes better than what I had for breakfast,” Idaho retorted.

“Don’t let Potter hear you say that,” Andre replied. “You know they’re going to name the mulch-wich after him.”

Claire watched as Andre fed the other horses. As unkempt as their manes looked today, none held a candle to Andre’s afro. General Potter was strict as they came, but he’d taken a liking to Andre, as most did, and had let him keep his hair. Idaho had a regulation cut and razor burn all over his chin and neck. Kept you from being snatched by the hair, they said. Kept your sights clear. Less chance of picking up lice. But Andre was an unapologetic individual, something he’d passed that on to Claire.

Natural that someone like Johnny Idaho would resent that, and Claire knew he did, but Idaho was always tagging along after Andre like some lost puppy. Maybe he was hoping some of that goodwill would rub off on him. In truth, Claire pitied Johnny. She wished he could see that. Maybe then he’d leave her alone. Then again…he had a short fuse. Perhaps it was better just to hold him at arm’s length where she could keep an eye on him.

General Potter, for his part, figured anyone assigned to an isolated encampment like this one was capable of handling their own problems. Andre had approached him once about guys giving Claire a hard time – not that she’d asked – but Potter wasn’t hearing any of it. For a general to be running the show out here, there had to be much bigger fish to fry. It was about the old power station on the mountainside. That was why the Field had been established here.

As Claire turned these thoughts over in her head, she and Andre made small talk. She knew Idaho was still loitering somewhere behind them. He’d get the message. Probably.

#

Once he had, Claire relaxed and Andre told her about the goings-on around the Field. “Couple of guys from the Church with a capital C came by the gate this morning,” he said. “A botar and a feder. Wanted to set up a tent show inside the wall.”

“Missionaries must be going out of their way to witness here,” Claire said. She batted at a fly that was doing aerial stunts around Rocket’s face. Rather than flee, it set about bothering her. She tossed her shoulder-length hair from side to side until the insect was gone.

“You look more and more like your kids every day,” Andre said. “No offense.”

“None taken, shrub.”

Andre let out a hearty laugh that startled the horses grazing at the other end of the field. “You talking about my hair? This fro is a historical landmark.”

“It’s starting to look its age,” Claire said with a wry smile. “You can really see the gray when the sun’s just overhead.”

“Well, now I’m depressed.” Andre shoved his hands into his pockets in mock reproach. “You cut deep, Clarissa.”

He scratched at the stubble beneath his nose and said, “Yeah, we’re well off the beaten path for feders. But I’ll bet they prefer it that way. People tend to be more on edge out in the middle of nowhere. More open to…‘answers.’”

“So what happened? Were they turned away?”

“Eventually. Potter talked to them for a bit, but you know he wasn’t about to let them in.”

Claire shrugged. “Would it have been so bad?”

“I hear that once the Church gets a foot in,” Andre said, “they start wanting to be involved in strategy and then economy. It’s less about guiding specific people than ‘the people’ altogether.” He made finger quotes as he spoke, and Claire nodded.

Andre went on. “Besides, the way they tell it, God’s already everywhere. You want to talk to Him, talk to Him.”

He set about beating the dust from his pants, which meant he was about to go off on some long tangent. Claire didn’t mind so long as the horses didn’t.

“You’d find it hard to believe, but there was a time when people wanted this,” Andre said. “I mean the fall of Man. God’s got a lot of faces and He’s made a lot of promises. People were tired of waiting for Ye Olde Apocalypse for the return on their investment.”

“Investment?”

“Faith, works, whatever. And I don’t guess it’s just those people – a lot of folks who didn’t believe in God at all wanted to see the End Times come and go without so much as a fart from the heavens, wanted to know that they were right.”

“What does it matter when this is the world we get now?” Claire shook her head.

“Amen,” Andre said. “But if you feel like the world you got is a wash and it’s never going to do right by you, you might just feel desperate enough to hunger for the end.”