Forget The Zombies (Book 3): Forget America (5 page)

Just as I stepped onto the ramp, a shot rang out from the woods followed by a short scream of pain. Clint’s men nearly jumped out of their skin as they moved into shooting stances aiming wildly in every direction. Randell dropped to a knee and aimed off into the woods as did Jay and Jane. Dave stood like a deer caught in the headlights.

For my part, I dropped Chuck’s duffled, pulled my pistol, and took up a defensive posture, sweeping the woods in the area where I thought the shot had come from.

We all held our positions like this for another minute, but no further shots were heard.

“Troy and Vince, head off into the woods in that direction,” Clint said pointing off into the treeline on our right.

They looked back at him hesitantly, but he said, “Go on.” There was some heat behind the order.

They hopped to it, but still moved with caution into the woods.

“Grant, can we get all your people onto the truck and out of harms way?” Clint asked.

I gave him a sideways look while still aiming into the trees.

“We got you covered,” Clint said.

I gave it another ten seconds and said, “Okay folks, onto the truck. Jay, Jane, and Randell, watch our backs and get on last. I’ll follow up last.”

All my people made their way into the trailer, but they were not near as relaxed as they had been a couple minutes ago. I ushered Jay, Jane, and Randell onto the truck and walked over to Clint while still watching the woods for anything or anyone.

“What’s next?” I asked.

“I wanted to get my men back before we left,” he said.

“But does that mean my people have to stay here? Can’t we move them out?”

“I wanted both trucks to guard the trailer, but we can do that with one, I guess,” he said somewhat embarrassed for not thinking of this himself. “If you jump on board, I’ll get the driver to get you and your people to safety.”

He shouted a series of orders and several of the men jumped on board the jeep. The driver of the truck and another man mounted the cab and got inside. A few seconds later, the engine of the truck roared to life. The driver of the tow truck backed it toward the front of the bus, getting ready to hook it up.

“Now, if you’ll just get on board, we’ll be ready to go,” Clint said to me.

Some little voice inside me didn’t want to get in the back of the truck, but I attributed it to my borderline claustrophobia. Still, I felt an unease as I mounted the ramp and watched as Clint’s men closed the large wooden ramp, sealing us in. A couple seconds after the ramp was shut, the driver shifted the truck in gear and we were on the move.

As we pulled away, I looked out through the metal slats and saw the two men Clint had sent into the woods, helping another man through the thick underbrush. The man’s head was down and there was blood on his left side. The two men were practically dragging him along, he was so limp.

I wondered if he was one of the road pirates, but wasn’t able to ask anyone as the truck pulled further down the road with the Jeep following up as our protective caboose.

Fortunately, they had cleaned out the trailer and there was no waste matter from whatever livestock had been transported in the past, but I did catch a sickening sweet smell wafting around inside like a ghostly residue. It was a little disconcerting, but who knew what had been moved inside this trailer before Clint’s people got their hands on it? Despite these questions and concerns, I had to fight the urge to moo as we traveled down the two lane road. The others must have resisted the same urge, too, because no one spoke as we swayed back and forth with the movement of the truck.

We were only on the main road for a mile or so before the driver took off on a side road that was a little less smooth. Everyone standing inside the trailer reached out and grabbed a hand-hold on the side slats to stay aloft. Rosalita, who was sitting, gasped and crossed herself as the road got a little bumpy.

“Mom, it smells bad in here,” Martin said, pinching his nose shut, but still looking a little green around the gills.

The ride got a little worse as we went from paved to gravel, but the driver must have been thinking of us because he slowed considerably. I watched out the back as the Jeep maintained a safe and protective distance behind us as we traveled along. The tow truck pulling the bus along was a dot in the distance.

Tall pines lined the side of the road and a cool breeze came in through the slats, so it wasn’t too stuffy. Since I had no view out the front, I had no idea where we headed and had to trust them. I’m not too big on trusting, but I just surrendered myself to the fates since I had no other choice.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Mo asked.

“They said they have a compound,” I said.

Martin must have taken that as his cue to vomit because he leaned over and released the contents of his stomach onto the floor of the trailer. Whatever residue had be hanging in the air was replaced by another and similarly distasteful odor.

“Oh man,” Jay said, looking down at his shoes which were splashed with vomit.

Trying to maintain an equilibrium of calm, Jane tugged Jay’s arm and pulled him away from Martin while saying, “Let’s move more towards the back, honey.”

“Sorry,” Joni said as she attended to Martin. Dave maintained a safe distance, mostly afraid of another eruption from Martin.

Robbie moved to the other side of the trailer and stuck his face against the slats and sucked in fresh air from the outside.

“You need anything?” I asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” Joni said, smiling politely.

The road smoothed out about a minute later and we began to slow just two minutes after that. We stopped completely and the Jeep sped by us. I couldn’t see anything, but heard some voices followed by the clanking of metal. The tow truck got closer behind us. The truck started forward again and we passed by a tall chain link fence topped with some nasty looking razor wire. After a few seconds, we were on the move again. Several of Clint’s men stood at the large gate, toting weapons and watched us roll by.

After only another few seconds, buildings began to appear on both sides of the truck as we moved along. I spotted people standing wearily beside the road, watching us pass. Initially, it was only men with rifles, but as we progressed further, I saw women and children. Most of the women had on side-arms, too.

The buildings became more prominent and plentiful as we went deeper into the compound.

We passed by what looked like a soccer field and a playground complete with swings, monkey bars, and two metal sliding boards. We slowed even more and I saw people standing outside the buildings, watching us ride in. We were the big news in town. The women held their kids close, and the men looked somewhat tense, holding their rifles tightly, which put me on edge.

The driver slowed down and I felt the truck glide into a gentle, but wide curve. Buildings surrounded the truck on both sides. Most were one or two stories and looked cheaply made out of cinder blocks with flat roofs. There was a larger congregation of people here with more men with guns and a few women and kids. I couldn’t make out much, but there seemed to be an expectancy in their eyes.

“What is this place?” Joni asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It looks like something the government might build, like it was all put up on a lowest bidder contract.”

“Should we be concerned about all the people with guns? Robbie asked.

“We have guns,” Dave said.

“But we are locked in a livestock truck and they aren’t,” Robbie said, his voice cracking.

“Don’t panic, folks,” I said, but feeling a ripple of anxiety myself. “Like Dave said, we have guns and so do most people surviving nowadays. Let’s see what’s what and take it from there. Keep your weapons near, but don’t try to look threatening.”

A couple of figures walked down the side of the trailer and moved around to the back. Everyone inside turned their attention to the ramp. There was a series of sharp clanking noises and the ramp started to descend letting the exterior light pour in, causing most of us to blink. When my eyes adjusted, Clint was standing at the bottom of the ramp with a tall silver haired man by his side. Both wore broad smiles and looked as welcoming as insurance salesmen. Clint still had his rifle, but it was held down at his side and he looked relaxed. The older man was unarmed.

Everyone inside the trailer stood in position with exception of Rosalita who was still sitting. My small sense of tension must have rippled away from me and infected everyone else.

The tall silver haired older gentleman sensed this and stepped forward with his arms open wide and said, “Welcome to the People’s Haven. My name is Jebidiah, but please call me Jeb.”

A warming reassurance radiated from the man like the comfort of fresh baked bread. I sensed the tension drop away and my people relaxed. The man’s face looked freshly shaved and he had a rosy blush in his cheeks giving a cherubic look.

Still one of us had to make the first move and I knew that had to me. I holstered my pistol and stepped out of the back of the trailer. Jeb met me at the top of the ramp and offered an outreached hand and a pleasant smile.

“Glad to have you here,” he said as he took my hand in his and gave me a firm, but gentle shake. “And you are?”

“I’m Grant,” I said. “We came out of Texas, then spent some time in Oklahoma.”

Some of the warmth left his face and he said, “Yes, Texas was in terrible shape from what we’ve heard. You’ve been through an ordeal, I’m sure.” His voice had a gentle Southern lilt to it.

“That we have,” I replied taking a look back at our group. It seemed that for the first time I truly saw the haunted expressions on their faces as the memories of all we had been through was just behind each one of their eyes.

“Well, let us make you welcome here and you can rest and get your strength up,” he said. “I’m sure you’re hungry. How does a hot meal sound?

“It sounds great,” Dave said as he came up next to me. He shot out a hand for Jeb to take.

Jeb complied and shook Dave’s hand like a seasoned politician. “You can come into our mission hall. Our ladies have a wonderful supper prepared.”

As if out of nowhere, more and more people appeared at the bottom of the ramp, most of them woman with some toting small children. They all wore genial expressions and greeted our group as we came down the ramp. Names were exchanged and I tried to keep up, but it was a little overwhelming. We had been on the run and fighting for our survival for so long, it was hard to put your guard down, but these people were so inviting that I felt myself really relax for the first time in months.

We were swept up in a sea of quiet chatter, flowing off the trailer and into a larger two-story building with tall ceilings. Someone was even thoughtful enough to provide Rosalita with a wheelchair and a strong young man to push it. Long tables were spaced across the hall with mounds of food on them. The aroma wafting off the food nearly caused my knees to buckle. It was like going to my grandmother’s house after church on Sundays for our family meal. There was fried chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes and gravy.

Gravy. A part of me thought I’d never see gravy again in my life. I was surprised I didn’t drool on myself

“It’s a simple meal, really, and the best we can offer you,” Jeb said as he sidled in next to me. Women and men were bringing out more food from the kitchen area at the back of the hall and placing it on the tables. White gleaming plates and silverware sat spaced out in a measured and precise fashion with crisp white cloth napkins beside each setting.

Dave shouldered in between me and Jeb and said, “You don’t have to invite me twice.” He slid between us and headed for a seat at the closest table, leaving the rest of us standing gaped mouth. The spread was quite impressive and I felt my mouth watering, but I held back because it all seemed just too easy. After all we had been through, this couldn’t be happening. But it was.

Martin and Jessica tugged Joni past me and to the table to seats beside Dave. Robbie and Mo took seats along with Jay and Jane and the rest of our group. When the last of my people sat down, I took a place beside Carla who looked like she was about to cry as she inspected all the food in front of her.

Jeb walked with a relaxed ease to a place near the front of the room, smiling all the way. When he reached a spot at the end of one of the long tables, he turned back to everyone in the room, and put out his arms and made a rising gesture. All of Jeb’s people who weren’t standing already rose to their feet.

My people, along with me didn’t know the cue and it took us all a moment to get with the program as we stood with exception of Rosalita.

“I’m sorry,” Jeb said nodding to me and chuckling lightly, “you’re not used to our customs. We all stand and say a blessing before we eat.”

I nodded back to him feeling a slight blush in my cheeks.

“First, let me greet our visitors. They have come a long way and been through a great deal of trials, I’m sure. We are exceptionally blessed to have them in our presence. Anyway, let me pray.” He took a moment to clear his throat then started in a deep and resonant voice, “Lord of the air, we thank you for delivering these people into our midst. It is always a blessing when strangers come unexpectedly. Sometimes, all good things come to those who wait.”

He continued on and while it wasn’t a sermon, it did have some robust flourishes. It lasted about three minutes and he ended it with the strange phrase, “Ave Ruler of this World” which the rest of his people echoed. It was fancier than ‘Amen,’ but who was I to complain. I was too tired and hungry to chime in as was the rest of my group.

Without any more fanfare, we dug in. I felt like I devoured a whole chicken myself as I used two hands to eat. While the chicken was delicious, it was the mashed potatoes and gravy that truly satisfied my soul. In this pre-apocalyptic world, it seemed like a far-flung delicacy. It was rich and thick and full of all sorts of savory flavors. I nearly swooned with every bite.

Jeb and Clint sat across from me and peppered me and the rest of our group with questions about our escape from San Antonio and Texas. They ate little as they seemed to hang on our every word only adding an ‘Oh my,’ or “How awful,’ at appropriate breaks in our story.