Zompoc Survivor: Odyssey (5 page)

“I’m afraid not today,” she said. “They haven’t been behaving very well since things…changed. Tad handled it much better, but Polly and Will are just so difficult. They’re having lunch in their rooms.”

“I’ll go up and handle things a little later on,” Del said somberly, and Penny nodded. “But let’s go ahead and eat first.” I tried to keep my face neutral as we sat down and Del asked his son to say grace. Not seeing the other two kids just added to the creepy feeling that had settled at the base of my neck, but it wasn’t enough to really do anything with. Tad recited a short blessing over the meal, and all our heads came up after he said “Amen.” The dishes were uncovered to reveal chicken, mashed potatoes and corn, with a loaf of brown bread and a crockery bowl with butter in it. It certainly seemed like there was plenty to go around, and we dug in. Penny’s cooking was a welcome change to my half-assed campfire culinary skill, and while it was a little plain, it was, like most meals I’d eaten in the last two weeks, delicious in a way very little had been since I’d come back from Iraq.

“Dave and Amy just came from Kansas City,” Del offered from the head of the table as the initial onslaught of the food died down. “Seems the roads south of here are pretty clear, except for some raiders down near Topeka.” Across from me, Penny’s face became a little more animated.

“Maybe we can go check on your brother’s place,” she said. Del’s expression clouded a little at that, but he nodded.

“I also want to head down to the seed co-op and see if I can find some wheat and corn to plant for next year. This year’s sorghum crop’ll see us through the winter, but I’m going to get mighty tired of the taste of it by spring.”

“I was wondering if you knew of any National Guard units in the area,” I asked.

“Well, there’s the big base out in Omaha, but I don’t think anyone would want to go there,” Del said after a moment’s thought. “Our neighbor used to report to Lincoln, but that’s another big city, and even the government says to leave them alone.”

“What about that place west of here?” Penny asked. “Remember, my brother used to go there for a couple of weeks every summer.”

“Hastings,” Del supplied. “And I think there’s a unit out of Grand Island, too.” Conversation turned to small talk after that. In the post zombie world that included where zombies were likely to be found and how winter might affect them. Amy and I took turns explaining about the different kinds of ghouls we’d encountered in Kansas City, though we left out the less appetite killing details as I dolloped out some of the sorghum molasses and mixed it with butter to sop up with my bread. Amy followed my example with a doubtful look on her face until she took her first bite. After that, she didn’t utter a word until her plate was clean.

“Dave, you mentioned doing some trading,” Del said as he leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you and I do some bargaining.” Everyone got up from the table, and I grabbed my plate to take it into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about that,” Penny said as she took the plate from me. “I’ll take care of it. You fellows go talk business.” As I relinquished my hold on the plate, I half heard Tad asking Amy if she’d like to see his motorbike. I turned her way in time to see her shrug and agree.  Del led me back through the front room and out onto the porch.

“So, what do you two need?” he asked me as we stood watching the two teens walk toward a path in the trees to the north.

“Aside from cooking lessons from your wife, the first thing I’d like to get is some gas if you have any to spare,” I said. “Fresh food is always welcome, and I wouldn’t mind some of that sorghum molasses, either. I have about a hundred and twenty rounds for that M14 of yours in six magazines, and we could spare a few rounds of twelve gauge for that double barrel scattergun your boy was carrying.”

We settled down for some serious haggling at the tailgate of the truck, and I ended up throwing in one of the two bottles of Johnny Walker Black Label I’d picked up on the way out of KC. Amy and Tad walked up as we were nailing down the specifics.

“Dad gave me the shotgun when we first heard about the problems in Omaha,” Tad was saying as they came closer. “I’ve been protecting the farm since the first zombies showed up.” He tried to make it sound casual, like shooting zombies was no big thing.

“Dave gave me his Ruger when we crashed in Kansas City,” Amy said as she pulled her vest toward her. “And he gave me this while we were trying to get out of the hospital.” She pulled the nine millimeter Browning out of her vest and dropped the magazine into her other hand, then pulled the slide back and locked it into place before turning it over in her hand and handing it to Tad butt first. The whole process had taken less than five seconds, and she’d handled the pistol like a pro. Tad’s brows crowded together over his nose as he took the gun from her.

“Aren’t you afraid this is a little too much gun for you?” he asked as he looked it over. He missed the warning she gave him with the irritated Spock brow lift. “I mean, a twenty two is fine for a girl, but anything bigger than that…” he let the sentence trail off as she took the gun from him and let the slide pop forward before she slammed the magazine into the butt. She grabbed her vest and stalked off, leveling a cold glare at Tad.

“What’s her problem?” he asked as he joined his father on the porch.

“She prefers to be treated like an equal,” I said calmly. Father and son laughed for a moment, and I bit my tongue as Penny brought out the boxes with the vegetables and three jars of molasses. Tad followed us over to the garage, and helped Del pump five gallons of gas into the jerry can I’d taken from the truck. Once I had that loaded, I looked up at the sky as if to gauge how much daylight I had left, then went to the cab of the truck and pulled out my cache tube. I retrieved five of the ten silver ounces I had stashed in it and tucked them into my pocket, then whistled to get Amy’s attention.

“Get me out of here before I put a bullet in Captain Chauvinist,” she muttered under her breath when she trotted up.

“Just one more piece of business,” I said softly. “Unless you don’t want me to trade for any books.” She bit her lower lip and took a sharp breath, then grimaced and nodded.

“They do have those two bookshelves,” she said. We turned and headed back for the porch.

“So, Del, I was wondering,” I said as we climbed the steps, “would you be willing to trade a few books?”

“If I thought I could get away with a second bottle of whiskey in the house, I’d trade you a whole shelf full of ‘em,” he said with a laugh. “But the wife won’t have it. If you’ve got something else to trade, though, I wouldn’t mind letting some go.” By way of answer, I reached into my pocket and pulled out two of the round coins.

“Well, I have a little silver,” I said as I opened my hand.

“What’s that other one?” Tad demanded. I looked down and bit off a curse. Instead of two silver rounds, I’d pulled out the Special Forces challenge coin Captain Adams had given me along with one of the one ounce coins. I slipped it back into my pocket and pulled out another silver round.

“It’s a challenge coin,” I said. “Got it from some soldiers I helped out back in Springfield.” Tad seemed like he was still oblivious, but Del’s eyes were on me with a little more intensity than I would have liked. “So, you interested in a trade?”

“Sure,” he said slowly. “Say, two books for one of those silver coins?”

“Make it three and you have a deal,” I countered.

“Three paperbacks. A hardback book counts as two.” I pretended to think it over then nodded like I wasn’t exactly happy about it. He led us inside and gestured toward the two bookshelves. Pretty much every Louis L’Amour book I could think of was on the shelf at eye level, plus a long line of Zane Grey novels shared space with copies of the Farmer’s Almanac on the shelf below that. The bottom shelf held a few surprises, some old school science fiction and fantasy and one thick Reader’s Digest Condensed Book from 1974. I grabbed the Reader’s Digest book, a Conan title and a novel by H Beam Piper called The Fuzzy Files. Amy came over to me with a forced smile on her face and held out four books for consideration while I handed her my picks. She’d gone for the classics with To Kill A Mockingbird and Treasure Island mixed in with Sherlock Holmes and Little Women. I looked over at her with a frown. Of the four titles she had handed me, only Sherlock Holmes would have had any interest for her, since she would have imagined Holmes looking like Benedict Cumberbatch. She shrugged at my look, then waved toward the shelf.

“I wasn’t sure what was good,” she said with a pained look on her face. “Could you look and make a few suggestions for me when I get back?” I nodded and headed for the shelf on the right of the door as she asked Del where the bathroom was. She made her way out of the front room and I set the four books on the top shelf, then started looking over the books. My eyes roamed across the titles, then stopped at the end of the row on the top shelf. Tucked in beside an old Bible was a title I had only heard horror stories about, one I’d hoped never to see: The Obedient Child, by David Bethlehem. Bethlehem’s methods were harsh, and more than one child abuse case had come from people using them. If I knew Amy, she wasn’t in the bathroom, she was snooping, looking for confirmation of what she suspected was going on. As one part of my brain speculated on what might happen, I pulled two of the books Amy had handed me off the stack and set them aside. My attention was only half on the books in front of me, though I managed to find one other book I thought Amy would like.

The sound of a blow came to my ears, but it was Amy’s voice that cried out in pain, and Penny who started yelling. I ran for the stairs as another blow sounded, and someone fell to the floor. When I reached the top of the stairs, I found Penny scrambling to her feet with Amy a few feet down the darkened hall from her. A three foot length of plumbing tube dangled from Penny’s right hand, and she brought her arm back as she got to her feet.

“Brat!” she screeched as she started to swing. Amy stepped forward as she brought her left arm up to take the blow and Penny doubled over with a violent gasp. She went to straighten again, and when her arm came back again, I grabbed her by the wrist.

“Don’t touch her again,” I growled as I spun her to face me.

“Someone needs to break that little bitch’s will,” the woman hissed at me. “And if you’re not man enough to do it, God help me I
will
!” The sound of boots on the stairs came from down the hall, and Penny backed away from me with a cruel smile on her face. Del and Tad emerged behind her and she ducked past them to glare at me from over her son’s shoulder.

“You okay?” I asked Amy as the tableau held.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice trembling from anger. “You saw the book?” I nodded. “It’s about like that.”

“You saw it?”

“She’s lying!” Penny snapped before Amy could answer. “She didn’t see anything!”

“Then you won’t mind if I see for myself,” I said and turned toward the door on my right. From the corner of my eye, I saw Penny and Tad start to smile, but their expressions turned to horrified gasps as I lifted my foot and drove my heel into the door beside the knob. Wood splintered as the door swung away from me. The room was dark, with the window covered with a piece of thick, black fabric. I nodded to Amy and she stepped into the room to pull the curtain aside. The wash of light revealed a girl handcuffed to an eyebolt that had been set into the floor in the far corner of the room. She looked like she couldn’t have weighed eighty pounds soaking wet, with wide, dark eyes that darted from Amy to me and back. Her dark hair hung in lanky strands, and the smell of stale urine hit my nose. The shapeless dress that clung to her shoulders was stained and ripped, with bruised flesh revealed by each tear. My fists clenched as I turned toward Del and Penny but the hallway was empty.

“I’ll get her loose,” Amy said. Her left hand was already in her front pocket, and I went to the next door down. It opened after a couple of kicks, and I found myself faced with a boy clad in jean shorts who couldn’t have been more than nine chained in the corner of that room. He stared at me silently as I walked toward him and went to work on the handcuff around his left wrist.

“Hi, I’m Dave,” I said as the handcuff opened. “What’s your name?” He just looked at me for a moment, then drew back as far away as he could. I rocked back on my heels and watched him cower and tremble. What the hell had I been thinking? That he was just going to rush to the arms of someone who kicked the door in? I nodded and rose slowly, then turned away as I tucked the handcuffs in my back pocket, hoping against reality that he’d understand I wasn’t going to hurt him. Amy was waiting for me at the door with his sister’s hand in hers. Polly inched away from me, and I stepped to the side.

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’s scared of me,” I said. “He might trust you.” Polly pulled free of Amy’s hand and rushed to the boy’s side. They clung to each other and watched us with wide eyes. I pulled the door shut and turned to her.

“We can’t fix this, Amy,” I said. “I don’t know how, and we don’t have the resources.”

“We can’t just turn our backs, either!” she said.

“You’re right, we can’t. And we won’t.”

“We’ll figure something out,” she said. “After we deal with the Manson family.”

“They’re going to be waiting for us,” I said. She nodded and pulled her pistol from the cargo pocket on her right leg. No one was waiting at the bottom of the steps, but a glance toward the rack by the door showed the shotgun and the M14 absent from it. I pulled the revolver from the holster and pointed toward the back door. Amy nodded and padded silently to the rear of the house, while I went to the front window. Father and son were standing between the porch and the truck, guns in hand. Penny stood behind and between them, her lips pressed together in a sharp line. Once again, I wished I’d worn my vest. Without it, I only had wit and luck to count on, and neither one would stop a bullet. I went back into the front room and grabbed the offending book.