Mad Swine (Book 2): Dead Winter (5 page)

Next to Sam sat Reverend Reggie who also filled a double role as our morale officer and graves administrator. A shock of light brown hair and thin framed glasses, along with the somber look gave credibility to his character. During the war, Reggie and his volunteers showed considerable courage and dignity in attending to the dead and administering last rites for our fallen. In the aftermath, Reggie provided counsel to those in need and guided others in prayer, giving each individual what they needed, spiritually and mentally, to get them through their extraordinary experiences.

Albert Sanchez was a squat man with a strong build and a thick, slab-like stomach. Prior to retiring to Randall Oaks, Albert had been the top man at Streets and Sanitation, so it only made sense that he’d become our man in charge of grounds and maintenance. At age sixty-three, Albert was extremely active. I think the fact that he had one young child and one teenager had something to do with his activity level. Over the last three months Albert and his crew had come up with weekly trash services, but more importantly, they had taken readily to the task of dealing with the dead infected. With knowledge imparted from Brian and myself, based on what we knew from our years of military service, Albert and crew had successfully disposed of all infected to date, without incident.

Across from Albert and to my left was Paul Dazzo, our engineer and the man responsible for providing this place with electricity and converting our gas stoves to wood burning. Paul was also retired, but unlike Albert, Paul had difficulty getting around; two kidney transplants and other numerous surgeries had taken their toll on the man. You wouldn’t know it, though, because of Paul’s can-do attitude to all problems and his willingness to volunteer for any assignment to which he felt he could offer a solution. And with a background in mathematics, Paul was always certain that there was a solution to any problem. His ingenuity and inventions saved our lives and made living in a post-apocalyptic world easier than it would have been otherwise. Paul’s health, however, continued to deteriorate. With limited supplies, Paul was unable to get the medications he needed; his supply was running very low and Ravi was unsure of how quickly his condition might deteriorate without medication and treatments. She was monitoring Paul closely.

Ravi currently occupied the chair beside Paul. Although she declined a role of leadership three months ago when I’d offered her the job, things had changed with the war with Providence, and Ravi had quickly adapted to a leadership role into which she’d been thrust. She’d become a vital member of the council, not just because of her medical expertise, but because of her honesty and critical thinking skills.

To Ravi’s left sat Stanley Cohen, formerly the president of the Randall Oaks Community Association and all-around douchebag. Although not a leader of any particular unit, Stan felt strongly that he was the representative of the people and was given his place at the table for the sake of normality. The fact was, Stanley was a pain in the ass, and it was easier to let him have a seat at the table than to listen to him bitch and moan about our leadership and try to rally the community members against us.

The final member of our council was Ray Colon, our communications lead. Ray attended the first several meetings, but soon felt that his time was better served monitoring the amateur radio than listening to the gripes and misgivings of the rest of the committee members. Also, Ray had a mean streak in him, and he took thorough enjoyment from eliciting angry responses from other council members. By the third week, Kat and I barely succeeded in stopping a physical altercation between Ray and Stanley Cohen. Suffice it to say that Ray no longer sat with us at the table, and I took it upon myself to provide the group with a briefing on his behalf.

Clearing my throat, I opened our meeting with Ray’s communications briefing. “I just heard from Ray that there was a devastating tsunami off the coast of Japan. Most of the mainland is underwater and survivors are saying that the tides have swept the infected from the island and out to sea. Ray says the crazies can’t swim and they don’t float.”

“Lucky Japs,” Albert said and looked around the table to see if his colleagues were in agreement.

“Did Raymond provide us with any news on the weather or anything that could actually be considered
useful
?” Stanley questioned.

“Sorry, Stan, that’s all the news for today,” I said. “In all fairness, there is no new media out there, and Ray is privy only to what is being broadcast on the amateur radio.”

“There must be some other way to get news,” Stanley continued. His face turned bright red beneath his bushy white beard. “What is the government doing? Is there even a government left? Are they planning attacks on the major cities to try to kill those crazy things, or what?”

“Stanley, we’d all like to have answers to those questions, but frankly we have no means to communicate with anyone who can provide those answers. I’m not sure what else you think we should be doing that we’re not.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Stanley said. His eyes would not meet mine suddenly, a sign that he was defeated but yet he could not let the subject go. “But there has to be something. We have to know something. Our residents want answers and we should be doing more to give them some.”

“I’m open to suggestions, Stanley. Like I said, if there is something you think we should be doing, tell me what it is. Right now, we have no other news, so let’s talk about what’s going on in the community. Al, let’s start with Grounds. What’s happening with your folks?”

Stanley blustered and his face grew a darker shade of red, but before he could respond, Al stood and addressed the group.

“Well, as you all know, my team has been dumping our refuse on the northwest side of our property lines. The spot was chosen because the area was under construction and there are no lived-in homes at that location. We’ve been using the ramps Paul designed—thank you, Paul, my team blesses you every day for your invention—but with that said I have concerns that we need to address for safety reasons.”

“What are your concerns?” Kat asked, her ears perking.

“Right now, the trash is accumulating at an alarming rate. You can smell it a bit if you’re downwind, but what I’m mostly worried about one of those things climbing our garbage and getting in.”

“Why is it accumulating?” Stanley asked. Once again, everyone eyed him warily. “I mean, this wasn’t a problem before, so why is it suddenly a problem now?”

Albert sighed softly and it must have taken great effort for him not to roll his eyes at Stanley. When he answered, he did so in a monotonous tone, stating the facts. “We used to burn the trash once we dumped it over the walls. We haven’t used fuel for burning trash since we were rationing it to make Molotov’s when we were fighting Providence. For the last month we’ve used what remained of the fuel to keep the roads and sidewalks clean. We’re basically out of fuel at this point.”

“Did we know about this?” Stanley looked around the table, his face looked shocked. “This is the first I heard that we’re out of fuel. What does this mean for the community? How will this affect us?”

Al looked at me and raised a hand in my direction. Taking the meaning of his gesture, I nodded my head and stood up. “Yes, we’ve known about our low fuel supply for a while now. Before Paul rigged up the solar panels, we were running the CP with several generators and we were burning through fuel pretty quickly.

“If you remember, Stanley, we had folks siphoning fuel from all of the vehicles and Sam stockpiled what we were able to gather. She’s worked closely with Al and his folks to make sure that all fuel we used was necessary. Last week Al briefed us on the supply of fuel. You were here.”

Stanley continued to stare at me, as though he hadn’t realized I’d finished speaking. Suddenly he blinked his eyes rapidly and then nodded his head. “I remember now. Do we have a plan to replace our fuel source?”

This time everyone rolled their eyes and made some sort of sound of disgust. Again, Kat addressed Stanley before I could respond. She said, “There’s nothing we can do right now to replace our fuel, unless you want to run to the local gas station with a couple of gas cans and get some refills.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic, Kathryn,” Stanley shot back. “I’m just asking the questions that the rest of the community would be asking. I am here to represent their interests, not to support the agenda of the people in this room.”

“Did you swallow some stupid pills before the meeting?” Al asked.

Stanley stood up from his seat now and leaned forward, his pale white hands planted squarely on the dining room table. To Al he said, “Every time you open your mouth, you just show us how ignorant you really are, Albert.” Turning to Kat he said, “One day someone is going to knock you off your high horse.”

This meeting was obviously spiraling out of control. Although there was always tension at our meetings, most were uneventful and ended peacefully. Today was definitely not one of those days. I had to intervene before things got physical.

I slammed my fist down on the table hard enough to rattle folk’s drinks. “That is enough! I want everyone to sit down now and be quiet right now. Anyone says another word to I will personally escort them out the door.”

Silence spun out in the room. Stanley was the first to sit back down and lean back in his chair, his face pouty. Al was about to sit down, but I motioned for him to stay standing.

“Now let’s get back to the problem,” I said. “Al, what’s your plan to deal with the trash now that we’ve thoroughly established that burning it is not an option?”

Al took a drink of water from a coffee mug in front of him. He coughed softly and then cleared his throat. “What we really need to do is have some of my guys go over the wall and use wheelbarrows or whatever we have at our disposal and start moving the trash away from the wall.” Al looked at Kat and said, “It’s going to be risky, but my men are willing to do it if we can get the protection from some of your shooters. If possible, we’d like to have some men and women on the ground with us, too, in case things get dicey.”

“Kat, what are your thoughts?” I asked.

Sitting up straight, Kat looked at Al for a moment. I could see the big man was nervous, not sure how Kat would respond to his request. Lately, Kat had become moody to say the least.

“That won’t be a problem,” Kat replied. “Most of the infected clamor around the entrance; we haven’t heard of much activity in the northwest quadrant. I’ll have to scout the area.”

“So Kat will provide you with the assistance you need. When do you expect to implement your plan?”

“I’d like to do it by the weekend, but I guess it depends on Kat. Security is her area of expertise so we’ll go when she thinks we’re good to go.”

“Sounds good. You and Kat figure out a plan and make it happen.” I looked over at Kat. “You’re up, Kat. Any update for us?”

She shook her head, her blond ponytail bouncing from side to side. “Shifts are running as usual and I have nothing new to report.”

Nodding, I turned to Sam. “Any update from Supply, Sam?”

She looked at Kat briefly and then turned back to me. “Well, at the risk of stating the obvious, we’re going to need more supplies soon. I’ve already cut rations lower than I’d like and at the rate we’re going I’m going to have to cut them again just to get another couple of months.”

Her head turned, her eyes taking in the reactions of each of us at the table before she continued. “We’ve already had folks fighting over food. A few days ago Kat had to come in and break up a scuffle over who had a larger serving and who deserved more. Matt, I can’t have that happening. Things like that could easily get out of control and cause panic. People are going to get hurt if this keeps up. We have to do something, and we have to do it quickly.”

“What do you propose, Sam?” I asked. The issue of resupply had been a topic of discussion since this whole mess started. The war with Providence had severely limited our ability to find food and trade supplies.

She paused for a moment as though she knew her response would be unpopular, but she said, “We need to get out there and find food and supplies. We can’t just sit here and hope something will come to us.”

I hated to argue with Sam, but we’d been down this road before and nothing had changed, so the answer had to remain the same. “Sam, you know it’s not that simple. Providence—“

“I’m with Sam on this one,” Stanley interjected, taking an opportunity to get back into the conversation. “How do we know that Providence is even a threat to us any longer? For all we know, they’re all dead and we’re sitting here starving.”

Before I could respond, Kat spoke up. “Providence still sends out patrols and if you spent any time at the front you’d know that, Stanley.”

Stanley blustered, his face turning red again beneath his thick white beard. “The fact that they send out patrols doesn’t mean things haven’t changed. Hell, for all we know they might be in bad shape just like us and maybe they want to open the trade lines.”

“In case you weren’t following the conversation, Stan, we don’t have much to trade with,” Paul told him. “We can’t trade what we don’t have.”

“We’ve got ideas,” Stanley said. He was a person that hated to lose any argument, so he would continue to grasp at straws, anything he could use to make his case. “You have tons of ideas I’m sure they’d be clamoring for, Paul. All those MacGyver things you built around here have got to be worth something.”