by K. M. Fawkes
Walker nodded. “Yes, there was that. Among other things.” He took a drink from the glass that sat on the desk. Brad didn’t ask what those other things were; he’d seen enough craziness to understand that it could have been anything.
“So, some of the men in my unit and I banded together,” the Major said. “Once we’d managed to get away, we slowly found other like-minded people and we were able to form a bigger group. Eventually, we decided to do the best we could to make things better for those we could save.”
“And what made you settle here?”
“There were several factors, but mainly it was just convenience. The original group of us discovered the place abandoned not long after the EMP.” He rubbed his chin and went on. “It was a lucky find. We knew that we could fortify it, use it to keep ourselves and anyone else safe.”
Brad glanced around. “I can see that. Is it gated all around?”
He wondered why everyone else had seemed to be so deferential to the Major. He seemed like a pretty regular guy and he was letting Brad drive the conversation. It wasn’t what he’d expected from the formality and tension in the other men.
“It is,” the Major said with satisfaction. “To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t have designed the place better myself. And when it came to getting supplies, having the city so close was a big help.” He sighed. “For a while, anyway. Now, though…” he shook his head. “Well, you saw it. There’s not much left in Bangor now.”
Brad nearly dropped his bowl of soup. “Bangor? That’s the city we came through?”
Major Walker nodded. “Did you know it?” he asked.
Brad took a sip of his soup, pausing to think. He needed to collect his thoughts before he gave any information away, no matter how small it might seem. His run-in with the Family had taught him that much.
“I did,” he said after a moment. “I lived there for a while.” Almost to himself, he added, “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize it.”
Walker shook his head. “I’m not surprised that you didn’t,” he said. “It’s nothing like it used to be. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself? My crew said that they found you outside one of the neighborhoods in a pretty bad way. They said that you were delusional and nearly dead.”
Brad finished his soup and pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. “Yeah. If they hadn’t come along, I’d be a popsicle.”
“Then—and forgive the question—but how did you stay alive through the beginning of the winter?”
Brad sighed. “I…I had a place before last week. A cabin. It burned down.”
Saying the words still hurt. He looked at the other man almost defiantly, waiting for any sign that the Major thought he was a careless idiot. A flicker of sympathy crossed the Major’s face instead, and Brad went on.
“The people I was with…I lost them along the way. I think they might have headed for Bangor, actually,” he went on, adding their descriptions hopefully. For all he knew, they might be in one of those hundred units out there, safe and warm. “Anna, Sammy, and Martha. A woman around my age, and two kids.”
“Your family?” the Major asked, his tone gentle.
Brad started to nod and then shook his head, finally finishing with a confused shrug.
“We met after the EMP,” he said. “But we…well, I took them in. I guess you’d say that I thought of them as mine to protect. I don’t guess you’d happen to know if they might have turned up here?” He held his breath, waiting for the man’s answer.
“We don’t have anyone of that description here,” the Major said, shaking his head. “In fact, you’re the first arrival in over a month.” He looked into the fire. “There aren’t many people left out there, it seems. And with this weather, there’ll be even less when summer comes.” Then, seeming to shake himself out of his reverie, he said, “Sorry. I know that you’re tired. I’ll get to the point. Would you mind telling me what you’re good at?”
Brad blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone contributes here. I need to know what your skills are so that I can make sure to find the right job for you. We want you to be happy and productive.”
Brad thought for a moment, trying to force his brain into gear. The comfort of the room and the bellyful of soup were seriously slowing down his thought processes.
“I’m a good hunter,” he began, deciding to list the skills he’d used the most since things fell apart. “I can cook. I’m good at skinning and gutting the things I hunt. I can repair some smaller things. I can build a fire. I know a lot about planting vegetables and herbs and caring for a garden. I know how to track. I’m not too shabby at building—houses and shelters and things like that…” He broke off that particular thought and shrugged.
“I doubt that you’ll need that, though,” he went on. “I can also dig cellars and that wouldn’t be a bad idea for the place if you don’t already have someone on it. Of course, we can’t do it now because the ground is frozen solid, but with the spring thaw, it would definitely be worth looking into. Oh, and I was a veterinarian before all the shit hit the fan, so I have a good bit of medical knowledge. I just don’t have any supplies.”
As he spoke, the Major’s eyes widened. “I think we can definitely find a place in this community for you,” he said. “If you’re interested, that is. And maybe we can help track your people down in exchange for that medical expertise. We don’t have any kind of a doctor here, but we have a lot of people and vehicles. If you think they might have headed to Bangor, we could help you search.”
“That sounds great,” Brad said in relief. “I’m happy to help you.”
As long as you help me.
Brad hadn’t always been this way. In fact, this was the first time he’d ever thought that someone should have to earn the right to make the most of his expertise. But he wanted to find his people. He needed to apologize to Anna. He needed to see that the kids were okay.
“Neal,” Walker said to the man who’d shared the ration bar with Brad and brought him the soup. “Why don’t you take Brad over to the empty apartment between you and Charlotte?”
Neal nodded. “I’d be happy to, sir.” he answered. Then, he turned to Brad. “It’ll be good to have a neighbor again,” he said with a grin. “Follow me and I’ll show you to our section.”
Brad wrapped the blankets around himself tightly and followed the other man back out into the cold. Snow was piling up around the white columns that lined the sidewalks and blowing in against them as they moved, but there wasn’t as much on the walkways as he would have expected.
“Does someone sweep these?” he asked.
“The residents take turns,” Neal said with a nod. “You won’t have to worry about it for a while; it was my turn today.”
“You go out and rescue people, you feed people and get them blankets, and now you’re sweeping up snow. You do a lot, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. But we all do a lot,” Neal added hastily, seeming unwilling to take any credit for the things he’d done in just that one day. “There aren’t too many of us here, so we all have to pitch in.”
Brad nodded, looking at the apartments they passed. It was impossible to tell which were occupied and which weren’t. All he could really see in the evening darkness was a row of black doors set in a white facade. The silver house numbers were applied neatly above round peepholes. The numbers were the only thing that broke the absolute uniformity of the apartments. He could see why the place had appealed to a former military man.
“Here we go,” Neal said, stopping in front of number forty-two. “This one will be yours. Obviously there’s no electricity…” Neal went on as he fumbled through his pockets, “but I went ahead and got a fire started for you. I figured the Major would keep you around. He keeps mostly everyone. Of course, you being so useful helps a lot.” He finally stopped rummaging in his many pockets and pulled a key out.
“Here we go,” he repeated. Then, he unlocked the apartment door and p
ushed it open. “Go on in.”
Brad did as he’d suggested. The place wasn’t as warm as the Major’s office had been, but it was getting there. He honestly appreciated Neal’s thoughtfulness in building the fire. Brad realized that he wouldn’t have even known where to go to get the firewood.
Neal tugged the key off of the ring it had been on and handed it to Brad. “Here. This is your key now,” he said with a smile. “Home sweet home.”
Brad glanced around. They were standing in the living room. He could see the kitchen beyond and then a hallway that he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. Each room was generously sized and he realized that this would be the most space he’d had to himself since the world went to shit. Hell, it was more space than he’d had even before then. His old apartment had been smaller than this.
“I put some beers in the sink for you,” Neal went on, leaning against the door. “And there are a few snacks too, in case you’re still hungry.”
When Brad nodded thankfully, Neal smiled. “Okay, I know the place isn’t huge, but let me show you around, anyway.”
He led Brad down the hall and pushed open the door to the bathroom.
“There’s a basic medical kit in here,” he said, opening the cabinet under the sink and pointing to the red-and-white box. “All the apartments have them in exactly the same place, so you’ll know where to find them no matter whose house you happen to be in.”
He straightened up and closed the cabinet again. “I brought in a few buckets of water for you. One—in the kitchen—is for drinking and cooking. But I brought you some extra that you can heat up and use for a bath, if you want.”
Neal rubbed his chin and then said, “Oh, and I’ll drop some clean clothes off in a few minutes. You won’t want to sleep in your dirty ones, I’m sure. Is there anything else you might want while I’m out?”
Brad shook his head, amazed at his own good fortune. He had a roof over his head, beer in the sink, and now he was going to be able to get clean for the first time in just over a week? What more could he possibly want? They’d done everything, and apparently they’d done it simply out of the kindness of their hearts.
Of course, they could be planning to sacrifice him. He’d need to be clean for that, too. At least, presumably. He’d never sacrificed anyone.
He decided that he didn’t care, as long as he could take a bath. The smell of smoke that had filled the truck as they’d ridden through what had been Bangor still seemed to cling to his skin and hair. It brought back bad memories of the cabin burning, but it also reminded him that both of his homes had vanished in a cloud of ash. He really didn’t want to think about that any more than he had to.
“No,” he said when he realized that Neal was still waiting for him to answer. “I think what I have here will be plenty. Thank you.”
“Great,” Neal said. “I’ll be right back.”
While Neal was gone, Brad took the man’s advice and heated up some water over the fire. It took longer without his old faithful wood-burning stove, but he wasn’t about to complain. Eventually, he had two buckets full of boiling water, which he carried down the hall carefully.
As he bent to pour them into the tub, though, a glint of gold caught his eye. He leaned over and plucked it up. It was a small golden earring that had very nearly gone down the drain. It was very heavy to be so small and Brad could tell that it was pure twenty-four carat. A dignified piece of jewelry for sure, for a woman who was wealthy but didn’t want to show off. Brad carefully laid it in the medicine cabinet. He wasn’t exactly sure what the lost-and-found policy was here, and this way, he could ask if it belonged to anyone tomorrow.
He closed the drain and dumped the buckets of water into the tub. He was just bending to unlace his boots when there was a knock at the door.
“It’s me,” Neal called. “I’ve got some more things for you.”
Brad opened the door and Neal handed him a backpack. “There’s some clothes in there,” Neal said. “They’re mostly fatigues, but there’s some civilian stuff as well. I think they should all fit.”
Brad opened the pack slightly and saw that it was filled to bursting with clean clothes. “Thanks,” he said.
“No problem. Oh,” Neal bent down and picked up a bucket from where he’d set them down, just to the right of Brad’s door. “Some more hot water. A bath is a real luxury around here, but I figured you might want a little more.”
“Thank you,” Brad said again. “I—”
Maybe Neal was just in a hurry, but Brad thought that the other man had probably heard how rough his voice had gone at the unexpected kindness.
“No problem,” Neal repeated. “Feel free to sleep in tomorrow, then come find me and we’ll get you started. See you later!” With a wave of his hand, the other man walked away—not to the apartment next to Brad’s, but back to HQ.
Brad closed the door and locked it, pleased to have that measure of security again. Then, he slung the backpack over his shoulder, picked up the bucket of water, and headed into the bathroom again. He stopped by the kitchen quickly and pulled one of the beers from the sink. He’d never had the particular brand before, but he didn’t care. He wanted the normalcy of a beer and a bath, regardless of the circumstance.
After pouring the extra water into the tub he began pulling off layers of clothing. His jacket, his sweater, his flannel and his T-shirt went into a pile. Then, his waterproof, snowboarding-style pants and his thermal underwear layer. As he pulled that off, he winced. The fabric had stuck to the cut on his ankle and he’d reopened it when he’d pulled.
Resting his food on the edge of the tub, Brad looked at the cut. It was bigger than he’d originally thought, but he didn’t think it would need stitches. He’d just make sure to clean it as thoroughly as he could and make good use of that first aid kit.
He stepped into the tub, catching his breath at the heat of the water and the burning pain of the cut getting wet. He gritted his teeth as he cleaned the cut. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t have a choice. The last thing he needed was an infection—he’d want more than whiskey if he was going to get an amputation. Speaking of which…he reached over and grabbed the beer he’d brought into the bathroom with him, twisting the top off and chugging half of it down in one go.
It tasted just like all other beer he’d ever tasted; he’d never been an aficionado. That didn’t matter, though, because the taste wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted the effects. He wanted to sleep without dreams. He wanted to forget the pain in his ankle, in his muscles, in his chest.
His head was swimming pleasantly by the time the two beers he’d brought in with him were gone and the bath was cooling off. Brad might have felt like a lightweight if he hadn’t remembered how little he’d had to eat over the past week. He rinsed off one final time and stood up, stretching and sighing before he dried off. He felt like he hadn’t appreciated baths enough in his pre-apocalypse life. They might be the best thing left in the world.
Once he’d dried off, he dug into the backpack until he found some soft clothes—a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He pulled them on and then sat down on the closed toilet seat to re-bandage his ankle before he got blood on his new clothes.
As he leaned down to get the first aid kit that Neal had shown him, he noticed one of the side panels of the fancy tub-surround was loose. It was supposed to look like marble and, except for that imperfection, it did. He pushed the panel back, but it didn’t stay. Oh, well. He could fix it another day. Right now, there were more important things. Like sleep.
He slathered antibiotic ointment on his cut and gritted his teeth at the stinging. Then, he closed the cut with butterfly bandages and wrapped it all with clean gauze. That was as good as it was going to get, and he felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t have any more problems with it, so he stood up.
The room tilted—this time from the fact that he was slightly drunk, rather than the fact that he was panicked and freezing. He gripped the sink to get hi
s bearings back and then bent down, letting the filthy water run down the drain. He’d need to rinse the tub tomorrow, but if he tried to do it now, he’d probably fall in headfirst.
He pulled on a pair of thick wool socks and headed down the hall. He opened the only other door in the place and was pleased to find the bedroom right where he’d expected it to be. He was just drunk enough to feel that he deserved some congratulations for that.
It was pretty nice. The carpet was pale beige, but it wasn’t dirty yet. The sheets and comforter on the big bed were a pretty shade of lavender. He couldn’t help but connect that with the understated-yet-expensive jewelry he’d found in the bathroom. What happened to the lady who’d decorated this apartment and herself with such care?
Brad shook the thought out of his head. The same thing that had happened to ninety percent of the population, probably. What else could have killed her? The soldiers wouldn’t be likely to mess with trying to conscript an old folks’ home, for God’s sake.
He forced himself to stop thinking about the previous owner’s fate and dropped down onto the bed. Then, he pulled the covers up over his shoulders, snuggled down into the soft pillow, and was asleep in seconds.
Chapter 7
Brad rolled over and stretched out, feeling the soft mattress conform to his body. He must have put in a hard day, yesterday, he thought sleepily. Maybe after breakfast he and the kids could…
The thought process trailed off when he opened his eyes and saw that he wasn’t back at his cabin. This was just some random apartment. And he had no idea where the kids were.
Brad sat up slowly, wincing at how much he ached. His head hurt and he was ashamed to realize that he was mildly hungover. That wasn’t the worst pain, though. Every single muscle in his body burned like fire at the simplest movements. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and then paused to let the pain recede before his feet touched the floor.