Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord (18 page)

“Hey,” the kid said, setting the open book down in his lap. “Are you new here?”

“Yeah,” I said. “First day. My name’s Jimmy.”

“I’m Craig. Nice to meet you.”

Craig was around my age, young adult, skinny with spiky dark brown hair. He wore blue basketball shorts and a white faded Back to the Future T-Shirt. I liked him already.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

Craig glanced down at the book. “It’s called Replay. It’s about a guy who dies and ends up replaying his life over and over again.”

“That sounds like something I wouldn’t mind doing.”

Craig nodded. “Especially these days. I picked it up on one of my runs. There’s a library here, but it’s mostly young adult books.”

“How long have you been here?”

Craig briefly thought about the question, and then said, “Three weeks or so. I think I was like the thirtieth person brought in. Every day after more and more people would show up. But the last week it’s been very few.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I like it better than fending for myself out on the street, that’s for sure. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss the way things were before. My family and stuff.”

“Me too.”

“You came in with a nice group, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re great,” I replied. “We’ve been together for a while now. Since this whole mess started.”

“You all from around here?”

“No, we’re actually from Florida.”

“What are you doing way out here then?”

“It’s a long story.”

Paul and the others leisurely walked by in front of me, done touring the gymnasium. Bowser’s slight limp kept them from walking too fast.

“Come on, Jimmy,” Peaches said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me back in line.

“Maybe I’ll see you later,” I said to Craig, walking away.

“Sure thing.”

“You missed the helicopter,” Peaches said.

I glanced up at the sky. “Really?”

“No silly, it was between the auditorium and the gym. You making friends already?”

“I don’t know.”

Paul took us around to the other side of the building. A couple of long white water trucks were parked against the wall. Our guide reiterated that each tank could hold four thousand gallons, and that showering was done with something called a solar shower, which I thought sounded really cool and futuristic. Beyond the water trucks was a giant gray metal tank filled with thousands of gallons of diesel fuel that constantly fed into the industrial sized generator. Around another corner and we were back in the front parking lot. The cars we’d arrived in no longer sat in the bus loop.

“That’s about it for the tour,” Paul said. “What do you think?”

“It’s a school,” Robinson said. “But nice.”

“Yeah, you got a good setup going here,” Ted added. “Though what’s the deal with the barbed wire on the fence. Either you had some dangerous junior high kids here, or that wasn’t there a month ago.”

“No, it wasn’t. The emergency manager had it installed first thing, before the big trucks around back arrived. They had a strict system in place for gaining entrance and were concerned about people trying to rush the place.”

“Worked out for the best, I guess,” Ted said.

“Is the front gate the only way out?” Robinson asked.

“There’s a second smaller gate in the rear of the schoolyard, but it just leads out into the woods. That gate has never been unlocked as far as I can remember. Any other questions?”

We all looked at each other, shrugging, and then Robinson said, “I’m sure we’ll think of more before the end of the day.”

“Take your time,” Paul said. “I’ll be happy to address any concerns or suggestions you might have. Why don’t we head back inside and check on your friends.”

Aamod finished seeing the doctor right as we stepped into the front office. Doctor Timothy Bailey was in his mid-forties with a thick head of curly hair and thin wire-frame glasses. He was tall with long, slender arms, wearing a button up shirt and blue jeans.

“Everything go all right?” Paul asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Dr. Bailey replied. “Lots of bruising and small cuts. I put a few stitches in his bottom lip. His left eye is obviously very swollen. He can’t really see much out of it. But I don’t think there are any broken bones. We’ll just have to see how quickly the swelling goes down. He just needs a lot of rest. I gave him a narcotic to help with the pain.”

“Is there somewhere he can lie down?” Naima asked.

“Yes, of course,” Paul replied. “Zoe…go ahead and show them to room 124 on the seventh grade wing if you don’t mind. It’s empty.”

Bowser gave Zoe the elevator eyes as she left the room with Aamod and Naima.

“Anyone else need to be checked out?” Dr. Bailey asked.

The two black men reluctantly raised their hands.

After consulting with the doc, Bowser wasn’t too happy with the news. His knee was healing fine but due to him missing some vital tissue underneath the kneecap, he’d likely always have pain that would come and go. And even with some mild physical therapy, he might never walk completely normal again. As with Aamod, the doctor gave Bowser a strong pain reliever.

Robinson’s long-term prognosis was better. Bailey said he should get back full movement in his shoulder, but in the short term would probably experience bouts of extreme discomfort. The doc was pleasantly surprised by the job Ted had done to close up the wound under the circumstances, though to reduce the risk of future problems, Robinson would need to have the wound cleaned up. Reopened. Bullet removed. Sutured closed again. Not to waste anymore time, Bailey scheduled the procedure for later that evening.

Paul led us out of the office to a room across the hall. The armory. Weapons of all types—guns, knives, machetes, etc—sat on long folding tables and dangled from wall hooks. Boxes of ammunition were stacked underneath the tables.

Ted examined the supply and said, “You’ve got a good collection here.”

“Thanks,” Paul said. “I’d like everyone to eventually know how to shoot.”

“Just in case?”

“Yeah.”

“Always a good idea. I used to operate an indoor gun range. I could certainly help with that.”

“Of course.”

Ted slipped his rifle off his back and handed it to Paul. “Here…as a sign of good faith. I think we’d all like to give this place a go.”

“I appreciate it.” Paul took out the magazine, checked to make sure there wasn’t a live round in the chamber, and then set the rifle down on the table beside him.

Ted handed over the pistol tucked behind his back and then the rest of us followed, parting with our gear.

No more David Bowie knife.

No more Mustang Sally.

And although it hurt me inside to let them go, I prayed I’d never have to pick them up again.

We ate lunch in the cafeteria—some kind of canned chicken with biscuits and gravy that wasn’t half bad—and spent the rest of the day relaxing, getting to know other survivors. In the afternoon, we all got the showers we had been looking forward to. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous as I thought it would be. There was no running water so the showers in the locker rooms didn’t work, and the solar showers Paul had mentioned were about as futuristic as an Atari 2600. It was just a five-gallon bag filled with water that heats up when left out in the sun. Connected to the bottom was a hose about a foot long with a valve that the water comes out of. Despite my initial disappointment, it felt great to be clean.

I browsed the library for more than an hour after dinner. I wasn’t really looking for a book to read, I just wanted to be around them again. The smell reminded me of home—of my grandma.

Just as Paul had promised, they kept Aamod in a different section of the school. He and Naima would have their own room for the time being, at least until they could see if Aamod would behave himself. They set the rest of us up on the other end, in room 156, near the doors to the playground. Seven other people were already tenants of number 156, but they didn’t seem to mind having the five of us as sleep buddies. I wondered if that would still hold true once they heard Robinson snoring. I’d have to get to sleep first and pray to not wake up during the night.

Robinson was gone for a good three hours with Dr. Bailey. He returned to our room just before ten o’clock in the evening, his usual sling back on but with fresh bandaging wrapped underneath. Paul walked him in and then went off for the night. Peaches lay on the bed next to mine, reading an old magazine. Robinson eased down on the bed on the opposite side, looking groggy.

“How did it go?” I whispered. The lights in the room were still on, but everyone was relaxed back, getting ready for bed.

Robinson glared at me and sighed. “Hurt like a son of a bitch. Waiting for these pain meds to kick in.”

“What happened?”

“He sliced me back open, took out the bullet. He had to dig around in there a little bit to find it too. I thought I was gonna pass out. It was like being shot all over again. He gave me some local anesthetic, but I’m not sure how much it helped.” Robinson reached into his pocket and tossed something on my lap. “Here…you want it?”

“Is that the bullet?” I picked up the small piece of twisted lead and rolled it between my thumb and index finger. It was about the size of my pinky nail. I was glad they washed the blood off it. “It’s not much, is it?”

“Doesn’t take much to do a lot of damage. And that right there is only one of the pieces he pulled out.”

“Ouch,” I grimaced, and flipped the bullet fragment back to him. “Well, at least you got it out. Hopefully you’ll start feeling better faster now.”

“Hopefully.” Robinson fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “So…you like this place?”

“So far I do. I feel so clean, and everyone has been real nice. Can you imagine where we’d be right now if that helicopter hadn’t spotted us?”

“No idea. Out on the road somewhere.”

“I’d rather be here.”

“Yeah,” Robinson agreed. “Me too. We made it, Jimmy.”

Lights out on our first day at the school came thirty minutes later. I slept through the night without issue. Not a single nightmare. And if Robinson snored, I didn’t hear it. We had been saving up sleep for so long and we were finally ready to spend it.

And spend it we did.

We bought the whole damn night.

A week passed as we settled into our new home.

We ate.

We drank.

We showered.

We didn’t kill one person.

Our small group had no regrets about the decision to stay.

Once a week Paul and Susan would call a meeting in the auditorium to discuss any important details concerning the school, like jobs that needed to be done or ways to make things better. Often there would be a question and answer session, followed by something to vote on. We all took on some level of responsibility. Not only was it the right thing to do, but it kept us busy. It kept us active and socially engaged.

Naima volunteered to help in the new garden. Peaches wanted to help plan fun events for the children. Bowser was hoping to become a guard like Jenson so he could spend time with his crush, Zoe. And Robinson, once he was fully recovered from the surgery, agreed to work closely with Paul, Susan, and the rest of the committee in the front office overseeing the day-to-day operation of the school.

Yes, I had a job too.

I stood in the gym helping place some targets. Ted, in charge of setting up the survival center, had taken me on as his right hand man. We wanted the range to be mobile, easily moved in and out on short notice, that way the gym could still be used for exercising or playing sports. We made the targets by hand using sheets of paper and black markers, placed on tall bookcases we’d plucked from the library. We taped the targets to phone books, since the school seemed to have a good supply of them. It wasn’t the most sophisticated design to a gun range, but it got the job done. Ted also began working on some written materials for people to study. We even put together a short obstacle course that would teach people how to properly use a knife for self-defense. We were both proud of the work we’d put into the range.

“What do ya say we give it a shot?” Ted asked with a sly smile.

“Give it a shot. That’s clever,” I said, taping the last target in place. We doubled up on the phone books, hoping they’d be able to stop the bullets from going into the concrete wall behind the bookcases. “It’s up to you. If you think it’s ready.”

“I think it’ll do for now. At least for a trial run.”

“You just want to shoot something, don’t you?”

“Kinda.”

“I’m okay with that. You think Paul will let us into the armory room?”

“Doesn’t have to. He gave me a key. Be kind of stupid to put me in charge of the range and not give me access to the weapons.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

“Don’t worry, I should be able to get you a key too soon enough.”

I shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

We headed off to the armory and grabbed a few weapons. I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be able to shoot Sally during practice. Ted suggested we stick with low caliber guns. The point wasn’t to destroy the targets, or even become proficient at hitting them, all that would come later. The point was to get people used to holding and firing a gun. So we made our way back to the gym with a Ruger 10/22 rimfire rifle, a Mark III pistol, and two boxes of .22LR ammunition.

Over the next hour, we blasted through all of the ammo. Not surprisingly, Ted’s aim was more accurate than mine, though I did better than I thought I would. I was surprised by how little recoil the small pistol had compared to Sally. Ted said the .22 caliber firearms would be perfect for the younger kids to learn on, even many of the adults. I took mental notes. If I was gonna be his assistant, I’d need to learn all this stuff.

Later in the evening, I met up with Peaches and Craig in the library to play the worst board game in the world. A girl I didn’t know but had seen in the halls joined us. Her name was Emily. She was nineteen, pear-shaped with a cute face and short brown hair. She had a bubbly personality and a squeaky, high-pitched laugh that always made the rest of us giggle along with her.

Peaches unfolded the game board and set it flat on the table. “You know Monopoly ruins relationships, right?”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“I’m saying two hours from now I won’t want anything to do with you.”

“Is that true? Man, this is serious business.”

“Yeah, things can get a little heated at times,” Craig said.

“I’ve only played before with my grandma,” I replied. “And she didn’t really know what she was doing. I like you all. I hope we can remain friends after this.”

One hour later, I was the proud owner of Park Place and Boardwalk.

I rubbed it in.

I rubbed it in good.

I began dreaming of mansions in the hills, lush vacation getaways, yachts, private jets, all the things I could buy once I crushed my competition—once I had my monopoly. I was an evil capitalist profiteer with a top hat and a bald cat, twirling my pencil-thin mustache, laughing all the way to the bank.

An hour later, I was broke because I spent all my cash buying extravagant hotels so no one could land on them. How could they be so lucky? My dreams of empire came crashing down right before my eyes, and I didn’t take it well. The three people who claimed to be my friends smiled as I mortgaged off my property and went bankrupt. I knew then why Peaches had said the game was known to destroy relationships. I hated how they laughed at my pain. I wanted to flip the board upside down and start chucking game pieces across the room.

Outside, the world had taken a big dump. Infrastructure was in shambles, families were literally torn apart, and millions of dead souls wanted to kill us.

Inside, we argued over a board game.

Yeah, we were settling in at the school just fine.

After cleaning up and the girls had left, Craig pulled me aside for a private chat.

“What did you think of Emily?” he whispered, even though we were the only two people left in the library.

“She seemed fine. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do
you
think of Emily?”

“I like her.”

“Good,” I said, patting Craig on the shoulder. “Then we’re on the same page. We can invite her to game night again. Just not Monopoly.”

“No,” Craig whispered even lighter, moving in closer. “I
like
her.”

“Oh, you like her like that. You want her to be your girlfriend.”

“Sure. I thought maybe you could give me a few pointers.”

And people thought hell had frozen over when The Eagles got back together. A kid asking
me
for advice on how to get a girl. It was so funny I started laughing.

“What’s wrong? You don’t think she’d go for me?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised that you’re asking me. Why do you think I’d be able to help?”

“Well, I know you’re with Peaches and all, and I think you two are the only couple living here.”

“Peaches and I have really only known each other for a short time.”

Craig frowned. “So you’re not together then?”

“I guess we are. I don’t know. It’s not something we’ve talked about much. But sure…whatever.”

“But you’ve messed around?”

My mind went back to the best night of my life at Cathy and Brian’s house. Sure, it wasn’t the real deal—the warm apple pie—but I supposed what happened that night could be classified as “messing around.” It’s not like I was going to tell my new friend Craig I was still a virgin, a title I felt would remain attached to me for quite some time. The school offered little in the way of privacy.

“What do you want me to do? You want me to ask her out for you? Because I don’t really think that would be a good idea.”

“No, no,” Craig said. “I just don’t know what to say to her. How to take that next step.”

“My suggestion would be to not say anything. Just spend time around her and let it come about naturally. It’s not like she has a ton of guys to choose from anyway, so you got the percentages on your side.”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s a good point.”

“Glad I could help,” I said. “It’s getting late. Think I’m gonna head off to bed. We can chat more tomorrow.”

We left the library and went off in opposite directions. I couldn’t stop smiling as I walked down the dimly lit hall to room 156, amazed at how different things were now than when I was actually in school. Back then it felt like I was the only one
not
with a girl on my arm. Now I was one of only two people there currently in a relationship. The world had been dropped on its head—its brains scrambled. If this kept up, soon cats wouldn’t just be living with dogs, they’d be waiting on them hand and foot.

My smile disintegrated the minute I turned the corner and saw Aamod standing outside my room. I stopped in my tracks, stayed a good distance away. On instinct, my right hand went for the holster that wasn’t on my hip.

“Jimmy,” Aamod said in a mild tone. He stared at me with not the least bit of surprise on his face, as though he had been waiting for me to come around the corner.

“What do you want?” I asked, raising my voice, letting him know I wasn’t in the mood for his shit. My voice echoed in the quiet hallway. I didn’t mind if someone woke up.

Aamod began coming toward me with slow, unsure steps. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

I stood my ground. If he came to pick a fight, I’d be ready this time. I let him get within six or seven feet of me, and then said, “That’s far enough.”

I had caught glimpses of Aamod over the last week, but only from a distance—a faraway thing out of the corner of my eye. There under the soft overhead lamps, I could now see the week of rest had been mostly good to him. Like the rest of us, his body and clothes were clean. His facial swelling had been reduced to nothing. Open cuts had closed. His bottom lip had healed. The only obvious sign he’d been in a fight was the black circle around his left eye.

“I’m not going to do anything,” he said, showing me his hands. “I promise.”

“Yeah, well your promises aren’t good here anymore.”

“You have every right to be angry with me. I shouldn’t have attacked you that night. I…I made a big mistake.”

Images of him lying broken on the kitchen floor, blood dripping from his face, flashed through my head.

“You did.”

“And I…” He bowed his head for a moment and then looked back up. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Is that it?”

I was more than a little taken off guard by his apology. It wasn’t his usual style. I felt vindicated. Although as great as it was to hear him say those words to me, see the shame in his eyes, I didn’t want him to think that he could just say sorry and wipe the slate clean.

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “Naima told me the truth. She told me what really happened with Jerry, and the things you said to her that night when I…”

“Went crazy?” I suggested.

Aamod nodded. “Yes. And I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for her. Not only then, but before. Jerry might not have done what I thought, but who knows what could have happened if we didn’t get there when we did. You were a big part of that, and I don’t think I ever even thanked you. So I want to do that now.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I prejudged you, Jimmy, and as a result, pushed my own daughter away. All I ever wanted to do was protect her, and now she doesn’t trust me. But she does trust you, as I should have.”

“Naima is beautiful,” I said. “She is. And she’s a great person too. But there never was anything going on between us. I’ve already got someone I’m happy with, and I think if you’ll just back off a little, Naima might be able to find someone too.”

“I know,” Aamod whispered. “I hope she does. I really do. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

“No, she needs you to be her dad. To support her when she makes decisions. Not make them for her.”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What?”

“I’m not always going to be around, so I want Naima to learn how to defend herself. I know you helped Ted with the range. Do you think you could teach her how to shoot a gun? I would do it, but as you know, I’m not allowed…and that’s okay. I don’t want a gun right now. But Naima still needs to learn. She’ll be nervous, but she trusts you, and I know she’ll be in good hands.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I can do that. But not as a favor to you. I’ll do it for her sake.”

“I understand. And thank you.”

As I watched Aamod walk away, I felt a deep pity for the man. He was a sad and lonely sight—a product of a rapidly changing world he didn’t have the emotional maturity to keep up with. I couldn’t imagine him lasting much longer. His spirit was already dead. Soon his body would follow.