Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 2): Fractured Paradise

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  Jensen had only eaten deer once before, when one of his men from Montana had brought some in for the entire company. He had cringed at first at the semi-bloody center after it had been pulled off the grill, but had forced himself to eat it. Surprisingly, it was quite good. The center wasn’t as chewy as he’d expected, sort of like a good steak cooked medium rare. The taste wasn’t the same as a steak, of course, but the rub on the outside was delicious.

  Maybe he’d take down a deer if he saw one. His mouth was almost watering at the prospect of meat cooked over a fire. It certainly beat canned meat or jerky, which was the only meat he’d had to eat for many weeks. At this point, he’d probably eat a squirrel. He didn’t know what they tasted like, but he was willing to find out.

  A strange depression in the mud caught his attention. It was a track, but not from any four-legged animal unless it had learned to wear some sort of lugged sole boot. At the instant he recognized what it was, he tore his eyes from the track and dropped to a knee against a tree. He could analyze the track later, but for now, he needed to make sure whoever had made that track wasn’t drawing a bead on him.

  Jensen slowly scanned the woods to his east, up the hill. He patiently waited as he searched for movement. It was a full ten minutes before he moved a few yards forward and repeated the process. He wasn’t sure when the track had been created, but it was certainly after the rainstorm from a few days ago. He scanned the fallen foliage, but the damp leaves gave no indication of who had been there or in what direction they’d gone.

  Jensen slowly retreated up the hill. It was only a bit more than a hundred yards to the clearing. Whoever had been there had certainly been close enough to cause them harm if he’d wanted to. Off in the distance, he could hear someone giggling. He was sure it was Dylan and Abby, off in the woods again. Hell, maybe it had been one of them who made the print, they disappeared frequently enough. They were off playing kissy face more than they were around.

  When he returned to the clearing, he scanned the woods one final time before he turned and did the same to the clearing and the wood line on the other side. Jensen was looking for anything out of place. The few remaining electric cars hadn’t moved, the tubs were still parked side by side, and the Humvees were parked with a commanding view of the drive up from the road. Nothing seemed out of place at all.

  Jensen wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting; he was only gone for about thirty minutes and had only managed to go a little more than a hundred yards. What sort of changes would have happened in that short amount of time? Feeling slightly foolish, Jensen started back into the woods to finish his patrol. He told himself the track was probably just Dylan and Abby off for another stroll filled with meaningful talk about how much they meant to each other.

  He had to grin at that. They were only a few years younger than he was, but he felt like an old man in comparison. He was old enough that he’d been through that stage a few times, when everything was exciting and new. Honestly, he thought to himself, he’d never been in a relationship long enough to get out of that stage. They always ended in a deployment or emotional breakups because he was too distant.

  Jensen carefully avoided the area where the giggles had come from. He didn’t want to walk up on anything. More than once he’d noted leaves in Abby’s hair when the pair returned from one of their walks. He couldn’t fault them. They were happy together and it was the apocalypse. He walked through the trees slowly, placing his feet carefully. The leaves were wet and soundless, but there were sticks underneath them that could break.

  He completed a circuit around the camp in a couple of hours and found nothing else that made him feel uneasy, just the one track in the mud. He made a note to ask Dylan about it when he had the chance. When he got back, he tapped out Marcy, who had been on guard, so she could go get cleaned up. She smiled gratefully and went to the cabin while he stood watch.

  Jensen looked at the sheets of photovoltaic cells installed on the roof of their cabin and marveled at how human ingenuity had created them. Somehow, people were able to harness the power of the sun to create electricity, and to use that power to draw water from the ground and heat it. To store that power to run lights at night, to heat and cool. Even to power vehicles like his own.

  It was tough to imagine how such a creative animal could be so intent on destruction. He mused that he wasn’t much different. He’d done nothing but destroy for years, even though he had the education to create and make new things. His degree in Chemistry could have been his gateway to helping to cure cancer or even make cells like these to generate electricity. Instead he had joined the Army and killed people for a living.

  Perhaps that was the default setting in our brains—to kill and destroy—and it was only a small minority who were willing to push the rest of us into the future. It certainly seemed that way. Before the bug, people had been at each other’s throats for years about religion, politics, or human rights. News barely existed anymore. Stories were just quick notes that could be read on a watch. They were more to engage readers and start a running combative commentary than they were to communicate actual occurrences.

  Even now, all but one of the people they’d run into had tried to kill them or otherwise take advantage of them. Jensen looked at the soft glow of the electric light coming from inside the cabin, happy the power banks had kicked in to provide energy as the sun sunk low on the horizon. He wondered idly if it was a good idea or not to announce their presence like that, but the frequent gunfire and smoke from their fires had surely already done so.

  It probably couldn’t hurt, and it was nice to have the option to turn on the lights at night. It made him feel a little bit civilized again. Lights, hot water, functioning plumbing, their little mountaintop was turning into their own little garden of Eden. Now they just needed to focus on the garden part. The weather was rapidly warming, and if Jensen had to guess, it was probably almost time to start planting.

  He was relieved when Daniel came out to take his place. As he got closer, Jensen could tell he’d found the same body spray Dylan had used earlier that day. He smiled. “Who are you prettying yourself up for?”

  Daniel just waved his hand under his nose. “I’m just trying not to smell you. You’re like a dumpster full of fish heads that caught on fire and was put out with an outhouse storage tank.”

  Jensen grimaced. That wasn’t far from the truth.

  He’d almost been living in his clothes, and his vest and boots needed a thorough decontamination before they’d be fit to wear again. “No lie, I don’t even want to be around me right now. It’s almost as bad as your MRE experience.”

  Daniel laughed, “Almost as bad? So much worse.”

  Jensen recoiled in mock horror. “Worse? Well, fuck. I need to go get into that shower and bleach myself then.”

  Daniel nodded. “You’re up. Hot water should be recharged again. Looks like pasta tonight. Marcy already has a big pot of water boiling and some canned tomatoes on the stove.”

  Jensen’s stomach rumbled, that sounded almost decadent compared to what they’d had to eat lately. He slapped Daniel on the back as he headed for the door of the cabin in the early twilight. When he stepped inside, the smell of garlic and seasonings hit his nostrils.

  He was suddenly ravenous. “Oh my god, that smells good. Make extra. A lot of extra.” Under the scent of the pasta sauce cooking, he noticed something else. “Is that bread? Please say it’s bread.” Marcy nodded, smiling. Jensen almost swooned, “I love you so much right now.” The thought of the filling meal almost caused Jensen to forget to pick up clean clothes before he showered, but he remembered before closing himself in and enjoying the hot water as it washed away the dirt and grime.

  The wound on his shoulder was finally closed and healed, so he carefully used his knife to cut into the thread. He had to laugh at the botched job Daniel had done when he tried to stitch it closed. The pink skin was ridged and uneven where the big man had tried to draw the edges of the wound together. He pu
lled the remaining thread out and tossed it into the waste bin. He could feel it pull a little as he stretched under the hot water, but the pain had almost completely faded.

  By the time he stepped out of the shower, the mirror was clouded over with condensation from the water vapor. Jensen felt like a new man. He sniffed his ‘clean’ clothes and recoiled a bit. They still smelled like mildew and sweat. Hand washing had nothing on machine washers. He was optimistic that he’d be in truly clean clothes sometime in the next 24 hours as each of them took turns getting their clothing washed and dried using the machines in the little room next to the bathroom.

  His boots and vest were even worse. Jensen knew he wasn’t on watch until sometime the next day, so he took the opportunity to wash out his boots and scrub the inside of this plate carrier using some liquid soap and hot water. As he walked out of the bathroom carrying his soiled or dripping items, he almost ran into Jessica, who was standing outside the door doing a little dance. “Could you have taken any longer? I thought Abby was in there again,” she said as she rushed in to use the toilet.

  As Jensen walked into the warm glow of the living room, he saw Abby and Dylan curled up together on the loveseat, Brent ensconced firmly in the only recliner, and Dave, Sheila, and Emmy on stools next to the kitchen, where Marcy was cooking something that smelled divine. Daniel was outside on watch and Jessica was in the bathroom, relieving the pressure in her bladder.

  Almost everyone had a smile on their face, or at least appeared content. This was the closest to normalcy any of them had experienced since the bombs went off. It was amazing how some hot water, artificial light, and the prospect of freshly prepared food could elevate a person’s spirits. Everyone looked clean and fresh. The only thing that made it seem like something other than a friendly get together was the fact that all of them were visibly armed.

  Jensen put his dripping boots and plate carrier on the back porch to drain, struck by the smell of garlic and fresh bread again as he reentered the cabin. “Is that about ready? My stomach is about to climb out of my mouth and eat it. That smells delicious.” His reticence about eating packaged food had completely gone away. Marcy just smiled and attacked a loaf of bread with a long knife. Jensen could hear it cut through the crust as she sliced it into thick slabs.

  “We were just waiting for you,” she told him. She ladled a generous portion of what appeared to be penne pasta and a thick slice of bread onto a plate before adding a thick red sauce over it all. “So you can bring this to Daniel.”

  Jensen slumped his shoulders, “Really?” He reached a hand forward as though to stick a finger in the sauce on the plate when she rapped his knuckles softly with the ladle.

  “Uh-uh-uh, no touch. Bring to Daniel, then you get yours.”

  Jensen looked around the room for support but found none. Instead, he grabbed the plate and a fork so he could bring them out to Daniel. Once outside, he picked up one of the pieces of pasta with sauce on it and shoved it into his mouth. It was delicious. Outside, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. There wasn’t much moon, but he found the silhouette of the big man near one of the Humvees.

  He handed Daniel the plate and said, “Marcy said you get the first plate.” Jensen shook his hand in mock pain. “She slapped my knuckles when I tried to take it for myself.”

  Daniel grinned in the darkness, seemingly happy she wanted him to have the food. From off to their right, a strange voice said, “Oh damn. Marcy made that? Got an extra plate?”

  Jensen felt naked at that moment. After his shower, he’d left his boots and plate carrier on the porch, where they still sat. The only thing he had on him was his Ruger American in a thigh holster, which he drew with lightning speed as Daniel dropped his plate and brought up his SIG556. Moments later, a flashlight lit up the area where the voice had come from. There was a man smiling at them from the open door of one of their Humvees. “I do love her cooking.”

  Jensen recognized him instantly and gently pushed the barrel of Daniel’s rifle down, away from the man in the Humvee and toward the earth beneath their feet. He raised his hand in silent greeting again, the same as he’d done the last time he’d seen the man at the corner of the bank in Dahlonega.

  Chapter 11

  The man waved at Brent as he walked in. “Hey Brent.”

  Brent, seemingly unfazed, raised his own hand in greeting, “Hey Aaron. Figured you might drop by eventually.”

  The new man, his name clearly Aaron, turned toward Marcy and told her, “Sorry about that plate outside. I think I startled your big friend.” He stopped, thinking, and opened the door a little. “Daniel, come on inside, there’s nobody out there.”

  Jensen looked at him. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  Aaron grinned, “I’ve been here three days. There’s nobody here but you guys—and me.”

  Daniel came in, his bulk almost blocking out the door as he chewed on the piece of bread covered in sauce. “I managed to salvage some of it,” he said. He looked at the newcomer uncertainly, not quite sure what was going on.

  Marcy and Emmy both looked at the new man. “Hey Aaron! Did you bring us any pecan pie?”

  Marcy looked as though he might answer in the affirmative to her question, and he did. “Indeed, I have. It’s in my car down the road a ways. I may have brought too much though, I expected there to be more of you.”

  He set his rifle near the door and turned back to Brent. “Ambush?” Brent nodded, chewing. “I only counted 22 graves. Where are the rest of ‘em?”

  Dylan spoke up. “19 from our group, three from theirs. Charlie and Madison took off with the rest.”

  His next question was right to the point. “And the cattle trailer?” Brent, still chewing, merely pointed at the women, needing to say nothing. Aaron then asked, “Cody?” Brent, still relishing the pasta, simply shook his head. Surprisingly, Aaron looked relieved.

  Jensen watched as Aaron’s jaw clenched and his finger twitched slightly, but he answered lightly, “Well, you ladies look amazing. You’ve been doing all right for yourselves.”

  Marcy broke in, “You big flirt. We’ve always looked this good, no thanks to your pies.” Aaron smiled, acting completely at ease, as though he’d been with the group the entire time.

  Aaron exchanged hugs and handshakes with the Dahlonega group as they welcomed him. As he got a hug from Marcy, he saw Daniel glaring at him and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa big guy, just a hug. I’m unarmed.”

  Daniel looked at the various knives and the gun strapped to the ex-soldier and smiled, “Yeah, looks like it.” The former TSgt looked at the rifle by the door. “Unless I miss my guess, that’s an Accuracy International.” He turned to look at the gun holstered at the SOF man’s thigh, “And that’s a Jericho.”

  The newly arrived guest nodded. “You have a good eye; right on both counts.”

  Daniel continued. “You’re wearing about $5,000 in weaponry right now. I’d hardly call that unarmed.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Nope, my rifle is by the door. I’m only wearing a couple thousand with the handguns and the knives.”

  Daniel looked him over carefully, “Handguns? With an S?”

  Aaron pushed away from Marcy and reached behind him to pull out a small Glock, then pulled up his left pant leg to reveal another. “Glock 43. Single stack 9mm. Concealable, accurate, dependable.” He lifted his shirt slightly and replaced the first Glock, which quickly seemed to disappear, and pulled the big handgun from his hip. “Jericho 941, 9mm. Just because I like it.” He indicated the rifle by the door and said, “Accuracy International designated marksman rifle in .308, titanium chassis.”

  Daniel held up a hand to pause him for a moment. “Titanium chassis? I didn’t think they sold anything like that.”

  Aaron flashed him a disarming grin. “They don’t. They made this specially for me.”

  Daniel and Jensen both looked at him intently. Daniel asked, “What? That’s a one-off? For you?” When Aaron no
dded, Daniel asked, “Who ARE you?”

  The man who had spent the past three days watching their camp without being noticed, was carrying weaponry that nobody else in the world could claim, and had caused Daniel to drop his plate of food by announcing himself from their own Humvee in the dark, simply replied, “I’m a baker. Speaking of which, if I could get a plate of that Marcy, I’ll go bring up the pies.” He had barely turned to the brewer before she had placed a plate of pasta and bread in his hands. “Thank you.”

  Emmy slid off one of the barstools and motioned for him to sit down. He held up the hand holding his fork and waived her off. “Young lady, I absolutely could not. I’m fine to stand.” He clearly relished his meal as he chewed, “This is delicious” he mumbled. “Pardon me. That was rude,” he said after he had swallowed his food, “But this is truly superb.”

  Marcy almost blushed at the compliment. Daniel shifted uncomfortably. Marcy didn’t seem to notice, but Jensen, Brent, and Aaron all took note. Jensen smiled to himself, drawing a glare from his large friend. That just caused Jensen’s smile to grow wider, and he had to turn toward the wall to keep from bursting out laughing.

  He regained his composure quickly and turned back to the group. “I’d like some of that pasta, too.”

  Marcy just looked at him blankly, “It’s right here. Come eat.”

  Jensen smiled again. He knew where he stood, but he also knew where the new guy and Daniel stood. He could see Daniel was a little bit tense, but quickly reestablished his cool countenance. Brent noticed that as well, and quickly defused the situation. “How’s Sasha? Did she come with you?”

  Daniel looked at him quickly as Aaron smiled and said, “Not this time. She’s back at home minding the store.”

  That prompted Marcy to ask, “Ooh, did she send any cookies with you?”

  Aaron smiled even wider, “Peanut butter, okay?”

  “You better march your ass down to your car right now and get it back here! I’d kill for one of her cookies.” She grew mock serious, “Do you hear me? Kill.” She looked down at the Kimber on her hip and repeated herself, “Kill.”