State of | Book 2 | State of Ruin

by Martinez, P. S.

  She was right. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know her story or all that she’d been through, I only knew what I’d observed since I’d been at Camp Victory.

  “I reckon you’re right about that,” I said.

  “I don’t know anything about you, Maria. But I’ve known women like you. Smart. Strong. Fighters. Women who would’ve ripped into the Michaels of the world a little over two years ago.” I smiled at her.

  “Tell me you haven’t wanted to tell him to go to hell at least once,” I goaded.

  She tried to stare me down and she almost succeeded until a tiny grin lifted the corner of her mouth.

  “I’ve wanted to tell him a whole more than that,” she confided. Immediately her eyes hardened again though, and the smile disappeared from her lips almost as quickly as it had appeared.

  Maria had been through a lot. I put a hand out and grasped hers.

  “Why do you stay here? Won’t they let you leave?”

  A deep sigh sounded from the woman standing in front of me and her head bowed deeply. After a second she removed her hand from under mine and raised her head.

  “They would have let me leave, I think, before. But where would I have gone? This is the safest place I’ve found and I can’t go back to being on the run every single night… I can’t do that to… myself again. And now… now I don’t think Michael would let me leave,” she murmured, turning her face away from me.

  There was something else that she wasn’t saying, but I didn’t want to pry.

  I did the only thing I could, given the situation.

  “I know of a safe place,” I said quietly.

  Her eyes widened and she glanced around us nervously. I did the same. I really didn’t want Michael knowing there was a functioning safe house at the Army base. I didn’t trust him and I didn’t know any of his people enough to trust them.

  “I’ve been there, it is safer than even here and I know without a doubt that they’d take you in.” Something very close to hope lit in Maria’s eyes and I found that I was extremely glad that I’d been the one to put that look there.

  “It’s Army. I was headed back there when I got myself into a messy situation. That’s when Uncle Gus and the guys picked me up.”

  Maria wet her lips with her tongue nervously. My gaze followed the movement. Ashamed that I suddenly realized how beautiful Maria was and how perfectly kissable her lips were, I took a step back and ran a hand through my hair.

  “This Army base… do you think they’d be okay with two more besides you?” she asked cautiously. I must have taken too long to answer because she added an explanation.

  “I… I have someone else I’m responsible for.”

  Ah, of course. Maria would never have stayed in a place like this if she had only herself to think of. She wasn’t the type. She didn’t though, she stayed to keep someone she knew safe. Not a husband. Maybe a sister or brother.

  My mind recalled a young man, maybe twelve or thirteen, with Maria’s light brown coloring and chocolate brown eyes. They definitely could have been related.

  “Of course they would,” I said with a smile.

  “They would take in anyone, I’ve no doubt of that.”

  Maria searched my face and after a moment smiled in return.

  “Michael wouldn’t let me leave. He’s got it in his head that I’m meant to marry him. He thinks God told him that I am meant for him, meant to be his helpmeet during these days of purging,” she spat.

  “If he only knew….”

  Michael would be a problem.

  If a man like him truly thought Maria was his and that she was destined to stand by him and his little religious reign, well, he wouldn’t give her up so easily. I frowned.

  “I need to think of a plan before I commit to taking you out of here,” I said.

  “I think you’re right about Michael, which would mean sneaking you out of here, and that would mean we’d have no help and we’d be on our own, on foot, facing the zombies. I’d be putting you and your brother in a lot of danger. I won’t be responsible for getting you killed.”

  Maria looked confused. And then her eyes widened in surprise.

  “No one would be responsible for my actions except me, Tex. I’d never allow you to take that kind of responsibility onto your shoulders.”

  “You wouldn’t, but I would. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I took you out of here only to die under my protection. I’d never be able to live with myself.”

  Voices came from a short distance away and Maria snatched her basket off of the ground.

  “We can talk later,” she threw over her shoulder.

  “Right now you need to get out of here.” I turned to make my way out of the women’s camp as quickly as possible. I only had to explain that I’d gotten turned around twice before returning safely to the main part of the camp. I found Michael and Uncle Gus close to the chapel just like Maria said I would.

  “Ah, there you are, Tex. Uncle Gus and I were just talking about you.”

  I raised a brow as I joined the two men.

  “Only good things I hope,” I said with an easy smile.

  “Of course. Uncle Gus seems to think you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. He was thinking of giving you a lift into town if you’d like,” Michael offered.

  I felt my smile stiffen on my lips and knew I should just take the gift that had been dropped in my lap. To take the easy way out and jump in a vehicle and get on my way to back to the base right then and there.

  However, that wasn’t what kind of man I was. Even knowing I’d failed so many, knowing that people had died and suffered because of me, I still couldn’t turn my back on someone who needed my help.

  “Actually, I was thinking I might like to stick around a while longer, if that’s okay,” I said enthusiastically. Uncle Gus’s eyes bugged out of his head and a crease appeared between his rather shaggy brows.

  “After the chapel service I did some thinking. A lot of what you said made sense, but I just need another day or two to think everything through before I make any decisions.”

  Uncle Gus looked like he was about to have an apoplectic fit.

  Michael beamed at me and cuffed me on the shoulder.

  “Take all the time you need, we could use a few more strong and able bodies like you here.”

  I smiled tightly.

  “Perhaps you’d like to even go hunting with us tomorrow morning,” he offered.

  “To keep busy, earn your keep and all that.”

  “Absolutely. I’d be glad to.”

  And suddenly I was staying in Camp Victory until I could come up with a plan to help Maria and her brother escape from Camp Cuckoo Kazoo.

  Chapter Nine

  A Huntin’ We Will Go

  When I woke the next morning and got ready for the hunting trip, I had a little time to think over the previous day. After speaking to Michael, wandering around the camp, and having a few nice meals and a clean bed to call my own, I realized why people were so willing to swallow all the bullshit Michael Hatten had been feeding them.

  Not only was the camp relatively safe, but they also had supplies, shelter, food, and medical attention. They had built a new life for themselves right in the middle of the apocalypse. The camp was removed enough from town and the rotten stench of decay that you could almost pretend it wasn’t even happening elsewhere in the world.

  Only the occasional sound of a gunshot which signaled that the men had taken care of one of the undead who’d wandered too close to the camp reminded me that the world was still a dangerous place.

  I had a feeling a lot of people had convinced themselves exactly that.

  If they couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it, couldn’t smell it, then it wasn’t happening.

  I hadn’t spoken to Maria again since the previous morning, and I was second guessing my decision to help her escape the camp. I’d be taking her out of a place of safety and back out into a world of death and horrors.


  What if I couldn’t get her to the base? What if I got her killed? If I didn’t, however, she’d eventually end up having to give in to Michael and if she married him out of fear and not out of choice, well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself then either.

  I almost wished I’d never set foot in Camp Victory.

  Almost wished I never met Maria.

  Almost.

  A knock on the outside of the cabin told me the men were ready to get on with hunting before the early morning hours wasted away. I grabbed my hunting knife and went out to meet them. I glanced around the group standing.

  Only six of us, Michael among the men present. Uncle Gus was missing though. I spotted only two lookouts as we left the camp and I hoped the old man and the young boy were decent shots. My instincts screamed for me to stay and protect the inhabitants of the camp, instead I quickened my stride without looking back.

  “You know, Tex, I’m glad you decided to stick around a little longer. Once we get back to camp, I want to show you something that might even convince you further that it was always God’s will that you become a part of Camp Victory.”

  I gripped the rifle that he had given me in my hand and ducked down to squat near Michael, who had found a spot that we could blend in and wait to see what animal might come across our area. We bagged several rabbits before we stopped once again in a good place to wait for more game.

  Rustling nearby alerted us that our next game was much larger than a rabbit and I only hoped we might be lucky enough to find a nice sized deer. The sounds grew increasingly louder and I knew without a doubt that no deer made that much clumsy noise, no animal made those unnatural sounds at all.

  Only the undead made the sounds that had grown increasingly closer. And sure enough, a few seconds later, a corpse shuffled into our line of sight, drawn to the sounds of our gunfire and the scent of our rabbits’ blood.

  I waited a breath to see what Michael might do, if he wanted to take care of the dead man himself, but he made no move to raise his gun. In fact, he acted like he hadn’t even noticed the zombie at all. I glanced over at the severely decomposed body that stumbled closer.

  A man, still dressed in a suit and a tie, on his way to work, maybe on his way home from work when the world ended. Someone going home to a wife perhaps, or maybe someone just heading home to a cold beer and a movie.

  Still, someone who never deserved what had happened to him. I raised my rifle, ready to put the poor soul out of his misery, ready to eliminate a threat.

  “Don’t,” Michael whispered.

  He put a hand on the gun I held and pushed it down and away from my target. My instinct told me to jerk away and finish the zombie off before he stumbled right on top of us, and my gut told me to knock some sense into Michael and do what needed to be done.

  I lowered my gun and met Michael’s gaze.

  “He isn’t why we’re here. We aren’t why he’s here.”

  I jerked my head back toward the sound of the zombie’s moans and gurgling as he drew closer. I readied to take the zombie down with my knife if I had to. Just then, a gunshot close by rang out through the forest and the zombie abruptly turned toward the sound, then jerked away as if the strings of some twisted, master puppeteer had orchestrated the entire encounter.

  I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, swiping the sweat that had beaded there away.

  Michael was insane.

  Insane men get people dead.

  A lot of people.

  We did eventually take down a deer, yet it didn’t bring me out of the foul mood I’d slipped into since seeing the zombie in the woods earlier that morning. We started back to meet our group around lunchtime.

  I was more than ready to get back to the camp and get a bit further away from Michael. My patience had begun to wear very, very thin. We joined two of the guys who had been grouped together and sat down to wait for the last duo to join us when a gunshot and shouts echoed around us.

  I took off at a run.

  I heard the men behind me running as well, though I knew I would be the first to find the source of the screams. I reached a clearing at a dead run and nearly bowled over one of the younger men who’d gone with us to hunt.

  He was on his knees crying, his hands dug deeply into the earth and his gun thrown uselessly on the ground beside him. Not six feet away was a zombie feasting on the insides of one of our men, oblivious to his audience.

  He ripped into the soft flesh and tissue of his meal, enjoying the fresh and still warm smorgasbord.

  “My… my brother!” the young man wailed.

  He’d been hunting with his older brother.

  His brother who was now dead at the hands of the very zombie I’d seen earlier, the one I’d wanted to take down out in the forest with Michael. Michael and the rest of the group reached the macabre scene.

  I pulled out my knife and walked over to the zombie.

  I met Michael’s gaze as I drove it into the top of the zombie’s skull and yanked it free. The zombie slumped forward over the body he’d been devouring, dead for the second time. Dead for good.

  My eyes never left Michael’s.

  Not even when I wiped the gunk off of my knife on the leg of my jeans. He broke eye contact and walked over to the young man on the ground, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, son,” he said loudly.

  “We have to trust that God’s will has been done.”

  The kid didn’t answer Michael, then again Michael hadn’t said it for his sake, he’d said it for mine. His eyes challenged me, and in that moment I understood him perfectly.

  We left the dead body in the forest right where it lay, per Michael’s instructions. They didn’t bury the unbelievers; they were left to decay with the world as God had intended. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I despised Michael Hatten and I was beginning to realize the error I had made by not killing him when I had the chance when we were alone out in the woods.

  We walked in silence for about a mile when Michael motioned for the guys to start setting up a fire and camp site. I glanced around at everyone, wondering what was going on.

  We’d gone hunting and had quite a bit of success.

  We’d lost one of our own to a zombie.

  Surely it was time to start heading back to Camp Victory.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  Michael threw a bunch of firewood into a pile.

  “We do this once a week. After we’ve gone hunting, we set up camp and celebrate the Lord’s generous bounty.”

  I shifted from foot to foot. I had to tread carefully here.

  I knew that, but the more time I spent with this bozo, the more likely I was to shove a knife in his skull.

  “Even if you lose one of your men during the hunt?” I asked, motioning toward the young man who was still visibly upset over the loss of his brother.

  “Especially then,” Michael replied.

  “God is good and just in all of His dealings with us. Paul will understand that. He’ll realize that his brother was not meant to survive, that he must have harbored unbelief in his heart or the Lord would have spared him like he has all of us.”

  I stood there, unable to even articulate a response. It was probably a good thing too.

  Michael spread his arms to encompass the camp and the men working together to set up the fire and to prepare a few rabbits to roast over the fire.

  “We are here as believers and each one of us has inherited the Earth.” Michael smiled broadly. “God has provided for his faithful children. You included.”

  Michael turned back to his task and I walked away. I started skinning rabbits, preparing them for a meal, trying not to think too much and trying hard to keep my hands and mind busy. It wasn’t long before we had a good fire with rabbits laid across to cook for our meal. One of the older men brought out a pot and emptied mixed vegetables from a can into the pot to heat up. He took out a cast iron skillet and heated up some of the fat of the rabbits.


  He mixed up something in a bowl and before I knew it he’d prepared and poured his mix into the piping hot grease. He sat back to let it cook with a smile of satisfaction on his face. I peered into the skillet. Looked like cornbread batter.

  My stomach growled in appreciation.

  It’d been a long while since I’d had homemade cornbread.

  The men gathered around the fire to talk and joke around as they waited for the food to cook. Even Paul, who had recently lost a brother, perked up a bit as the smell of cooking meat wafted around the site and Michael kept including him in conversation.

  “So, we know you were in the Army when the apocalypse began,” Michael said a little while later. “What else is there to know about you?” he asked.

  The men all stopped chattering and turned to look at me. I shrugged.

  “Not much, really,” I said

  “Well, what’s your real name and how’d you get the nickname ‘Tex’?” Paul asked.

  I leaned back into the trunk of the tree I was sitting in front of.

  “My real name is Jeremiah Jackson,” I replied.

  “Jeremiah. A biblical name,” Michael said with a wide smile of his own.

  I let him assume that’s where I’d gotten it from. Truth was, I’d gotten it from my great, great granddaddy who’d been a womanizing moonshiner.

  “Tex I picked up in college right before heading into the Army. Not really because everyone knew I was born and raised in the good state of Texas, but mostly because I wore cowboy boots, drove a big truck, and have always been madly in love with Shania Twain,” I admitted.

  Paul guffawed and few of the other guys chuckled.

  Michael didn’t like my nickname story as much as my real name one.

  “You have a family?” one of the men asked.

  I guess we were getting personal here.

  It was almost like a written rule or something, not to ask about the loved ones everyone had lost in the last two years. I turned my gaze back to the flames of the campfire.

  “A wife,” I replied gruffly. I cleared my throat and looked across the fire to Michael.

  “What about you?” I asked. “What were you doing? Did you have a family?”