by L. T. Ryan
He crossed the small room and caught the door with his foot before it closed. The heavy hunk of wood hit him with a thud. He drove his shoulder into it and eased out into the corridor. She waited alone ten feet away. They continued side by side once he caught up to her.
“How long’ve you been here?” he asked.
“Long enough to see most of them die.”
“Most of who?”
“Those I arrived with.”
“Friends? Family?”
“Just people I found after it happened. We banded together, sort of. Were found some distance from here. Brought here. Lived and died here.”
“How many did you travel with?”
“Some would consider it lots. Others maybe not so much.”
“You’re very straightforward,” Sean said, shaking his head.
She said nothing in response. The end of the hallway approached. She pulled out her keyring and began sorting through them, landing on a green colored key with a yellow Packers logo on it. She unlocked the last door and led him in.
The door opened up to a wide room with tile flooring and locker-lined walls. Two rows of benches anchored to the floor created a walkway down the middle. A waist high wall stretched from either side, leaving a gap of about four feet in the middle. Dirty chrome shower heads extended from the far wall.
She shut the door and locked it, then pointed toward the showers. “Strip and wash.”
Hanging over one of the short walls was a white towel. Perched next to it Sean saw an unwrapped bar of soap, maybe halfway used. Upon closer inspection, there were curly hairs left behind, caked into the soap. He glanced back at Medrick’s Special One. She remained in the same spot, arms at her side, 1911 dangling again.
“Strip and wash,” she said again, only this time her gaze settled upon him.
He peeled off his soiled clothing. The skin underneath wasn’t what you would call clean, but it looked like it compared to his exposed skin. He walked into the open shower stall naked. The cool air washed over him. Nothing compared to the frigid spray that erupted from the nozzles when he cut the valve on. He took a few steps back and waited in the mist.
“It won’t get much better,” she said. “We can have hot water, or we can have lights. Medrick says lights, though he gets both in his private room.”
He didn’t bother asking how she knew, instead tossing her a nod as he grabbed the soap and braved the arctic waters. The cold hit him with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years. After adjusting and loosening his throat to gulp down a breath of air, he rinsed the hair off the bar, lathered up, and washed off, growing more accustomed to the cold with every passing second.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s long enough.”
Sean used the final seconds to rinse thoroughly, then cut the water off. Drips slid off the showerhead and splashed in the dwindling pools on the floor.
“Better?” she asked.
“Mostly,” he said.
She moved to the right, stopping in front of a locker. She gave him another once over, then moved two lockers down. There was no lock to deal with. She opened it up, pulled out a pair of dark underwear, heavy khaki pants, two shirts, one short- and one long-sleeved, and a pair of boots. She held both in her hands for several seconds, staring at his naked legs.
“It’s all right,” Sean said. “One’ll work for me.”
She nodded, closed the locker, then gathered up the items and set them on a bench. Sean approached with the towel draped over his arm, covering the front of his body. The woman turned and walked to the door, where she stood facing away from him.
“Get dressed now. He’s waiting.”
Sean would’ve found her behavior odd at that moment, had she not said those last two words.
“You taking me to see Medrick?” he asked.
She ignored the question. “Are you dressed?”
He pulled on his pants and tugged down the second shirt before sliding his foot into the boot. They’d removed the laces. Guess they figured he might use them as a weapon. “Yeah, let’s go.”
She led him across the hall to a small door that opened up to a narrow stairwell with flights running up and down. The former must’ve led to the roof or a rooftop maintenance shack, as they were on the top floor. Sean looked up and spotted the sunlight seeping past the edges of the hatch. How many guards were up there? The roof provided a great vantage point. Medrick would take advantage of that. By keeping guards on the perimeter of each building, just out of sight, he could watch over several acres and see an enemy coming before they realized what lay ahead.
They trotted down two flights. At the bottom landing, a brown door with a small window cut into it about head-high opened up to a courtyard with a long concrete walkway. Dead grass poked out in the seams every six feet.
The cold air didn’t affect Sean, underdressed as he was. But it bit at his head under his damp hair.
They walked in the shadows behind the central building, what appeared to be a large warehouse. There were no windows back here offering a view inside. Every twenty feet they passed a door, barely noticeable at any kind of distance. Even the handles were painted to match the facade.
They turned right when they reached the end and continued down a walkway, until about halfway, then made a left. The middle building on this side stood a floor shorter than the ones bordering it. The woman led Sean up to the double doors and stopped there.
He glanced above the doorway and noticed a camera set off to the left, aimed down at them. Footsteps from inside grew, and so did the anticipation. He took a deep breath, steadying his heart, and reminded himself that if they had wanted him dead, there’s no reason to have wasted water letting him wash up first.
A tour or a meeting was going to take place. They wanted something from Sean. What, though? Information? Were they curious what he had seen in his time out in the new world? Did they want locations of camps they could invade?
The door on the right opened and a man armed with an HK MP7 brought his free hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the bright sun.
“What happened to the storm clouds?” he said.
The woman tilted her head. “You want the rain? This place gets so messy when it pours.”
“Just an observation, T.”
She shot a quick glance at Sean, then returned her gaze to the man. “Is he ready to see him?”
“Almost. Finishing something up. Come on in out of the cold.” The guy took a step back. His posture relaxed after he eyed Sean up and down. “How long were you out there?”
It took Sean a moment to realize the guy was talking to him and wasn’t referencing their time in front of the building.
“Since shortly after it happened,” he said.
“Hide out for a while?”
“Something like that.” He would offer up as little as possible without being too arrogant about it. That always brought about a determination on the interrogator.
“Guess a lot of us took that route. Seemed those who rushed out, or panicked amid all the confusion, ended up dead.” He paused a beat and shook his head. “Or worse, wandering around eternally damned to remain on this earth.”
“Preach,” the woman said. Sean noticed a small smile on her face. Her sense of humor, what there was of it, surfaced.
“All right, lemme check if he’s ready.” The guy turned on his heel and strutted down the hall to the far end where a set of double doors stood.
“What’s going on?” Sean asked. “And what does T stand for?”
She took a quick look at him, sighed and turned toward the door. She stopped with her hand covering the knob and looked back again. “Wait here. If I see you again, I’ll answer your question.”
The uneasiness that raced through him at hearing the word if sent Sean reaching for the wall to steady himself as though she’d swept his wooden prosthetic out from under him. The hell was this place? And who was Medrick?
“Come on,” the guy called from the end of t
he hall. The strap to his MP7 stretched tight as he extended the firearm out with one hand while gesturing with the other.
Sean pushed away from the wall and made his way down. He couldn’t see much beyond where the guy stood. The room past the doors was dark. When he reached the man, he saw why. A solid wall three feet behind the doors blocked the room. It was made of metal and spray painted black. A shield, maybe, to protect the person behind it. No doubt constructed after the outbreak.
“Go on in,” he said. “Right or left, don’t matter.”
But Sean figured it did matter. He’d seen enough of Medrick to think the guy probably had a profile ready based on which way Sean entered. So he stuck to the left, figuring most would go right.
As he eased around the corner he saw Medrick seated behind a wide wooden desk, the kind a lawyer might use. The smooth surface held no clutter, just a mug with the slogan “I See Stupid People” holding some pens and a highlighter. A yellow legal pad laid out in front of Medrick, the top page covered in scribbles and doodles. Sean spotted what looked like an afflicted in the upper left corner, eyes glowing pink, the color of the highlighter.
“Well, if it isn’t Peg Leg Pete,” Medrick said. He clapped his hands together and dropped his feet off the desktop. “Excuse me if I don’t stand. Don’t know why that seems rude to me, considering you only got that one pitiful leg there.” He gestured toward the red vinyl seat opposite him.
Sean stood in place, four feet from the chair, in the middle of the room. “Name’s Sean.”
“Of course it is.” Medrick leaned back in his chair. He made a production of crossing his left leg over his right, lifting his foot high in the air. “Come on, sit. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”
Sean glanced to both sides, taking in the room while he walked toward the chair. There wasn’t a whole lot in there. Some empty bookcases. A small refrigerator that gave off a distinct hum. The thing that caught his eye were two swords mounted to form an X.
“You like my swords, huh?” Medrick leaned forward. “I keep hoping I get a chance to use them. Well, sorta. That’d mean the fence was breeched and we got us a horde of a problem.”
Sean spun the chair, eased into it and swung back to face the other guy. Medrick slapped his hand on the desk.
“You want a beer?”
This caught Sean by surprise. “A beer? Seriously?”
“Serious as shit, my one-legged friend.”
Sean tried not to shake his head at the remark. Tried unsuccessfully. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”
Medrick hopped up and walked over to the fridge. Not once did he glance back at Sean. Might have had something to do with the two swords in front of the guy. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed the empty end of a six-pack ring. Dangling from his grasp were two blue cans of Bud Light.
“Not the best stuff in the world, but damn it tastes good these days.” He tore a can free and tossed it overhead to Sean, who reached up and snagged it out of the air. “Nice catch.”
“Thanks. I passed first grade PE with honors.”
Medrick stopped short of his desk, looked down at Sean and cracked a smile. His teeth were too white.
Sean lifted the can to his lips and took two long pulls from it. The bitter taste gave way to the carbonation burn in the back of his throat. A feeling he thought he’d never experience again.
“I’m intrigued by you, Sean,” Medrick said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’ll get to that, but first I gotta know.” Medrick drummed his fingertips on the desk for a few moments, building up a little suspense. “Do you want to live or die today?”
Eighteen
After spending the night on the boat just offshore of the island, Turk brought his group to land. He waited on shore at the location he’d selected for a camp while Rhea ferried them in on a raft. Elana and the children were last to arrive. He took her on a tour of the surrounding area.
“You feel we’re okay here, babe?” she asked, once they were some distance away from the others.
“I feel good about it. Haven’t seen another boat since we arrived. No activity on the island. We’re a good distance from Florida, so maybe people aren’t venturing out this far with gas supplies being limited as they are.”
“But there were people out to hurt us near Charleston.”
“Yeah, and we weren’t that far from shore. They probably had reserves stored somewhere. A hideout on land.” He lifted her chin and looked her in the eye. “Might’ve been opportunists who came across us while fishing and decided to take a chance.”
She nodded and said nothing.
“Gotta trust me on this one. We’re good here.” He took her hand and started back toward the others. “Besides, we’re not staying long. Everything we need to repair the boat is here. Four days, max, and we’re on our way. You can lead the kids on a mission to gather up as many coconuts and bananas as you can find. That’ll come in handy as we make our way to the Exumas.”
“Then we can start rebuilding.”
“That’s right. We’ll be a force when combined with the others, and we can start going island to island, clearing out the afflicted, finding the right people. We’re gonna take back the world.”
“That’s my Turk,” she said, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Planning on saving everyone.”
The group spent the day prepping the site. They set up temporary shelters, which were nothing more than sticks and leaves, but offered the various groups within the group some privacy. After the kids played on the beach, Elana and Jerry’s wife took them to collect food for dinner.
Rhea brought the water distillation kit from the boat and rigged up a system that diverted fresh water from the stream into it on demand. She employed Jennie and Sarah to help. There were smaller rafts on board that they used as bladders to hold gallons of water.
Alec and Jerry’s kids fished from shore, bringing in a nice haul of snapper and bluefish. Jerry rigged up a fire pit and fashioned a grill set a few feet over the anticipated height of the flame. That way it would cook the fish thoroughly without charring it.
As the day wound down and the sky streaked orange and pink and purple, Turk looked at the group that had grown into a family and now gathered around. People were talking, sharing, laughing. For a moment, he forgot about the tragedy that had befallen the world.
This was the kind of place he could see returning to after they’d done the work. The work that would lead to restoration. He and Elana could retire on this island. It had everything they needed.
Long before the outbreak, this had been one of his dreams. Heading down to the Caribbean and getting lost, him and his wife, rediscovering their love for one another while cutting off from the connected world.
He looked across the circle at her, saw the young woman he fell in love with in the late afternoon light. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sarah running along the coastline. She sprinted the remaining distance to the group.
Hunched over with her hands on her knees, she caught her breath, then said, “I can’t find Jennie.”
Rhea stood. “I thought she was with you?”
“She was,” Sarah said, casting a quick glance at the younger girls, who had gone still. Young Paige’s eyes were wide and growing wet. “We were foraging a bit, and I headed down a path, told her I’d be back. And when I returned, she was gone.”
Turk stared across the campsite at Elana, who was watching him. He gave her a nod.
“All right, Jerry, you and your boys stay here and watch over the place. Alec and Rhea, come with me and Sarah.” He touched her arm. “We’ll start at the spot you got separated.”
“I’m so sorry, Turk,” she said. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Just relax. It’s easy to get disoriented in a thick jungle. Trust me, it’s happened to me before, and I had years of training.” He pointed at Jerry. “How many flashlights did we bring?”
“Four,” he said.
&nbs
p; “All right, you keep two, we’ll take two.”
“Got these emergency whistles, also.”
Turk went over and inspected them. There were three, orange in color, hanging from matching paracord lanyards. He tossed one to Jerry and gave the other to Rhea. “Here’s the deal. One long whistle means something is wrong. Two whistles means we found her, three means Rhea and Alec found her, and four means she made her way back to camp. Got it?”
Jerry and Rhea repeated what he’d said. Turk nodded and motioned for the predetermined parties to follow him away. He waited until they were far enough from camp to speak openly.
“You didn’t hear anything when this happened?” he said to Sarah.
“No, but I wasn’t really paying attention, either. I mean, we’re all alone out here, right?”
Turk stared up into the jungle. His gaze turned upward as it sloped with the hillside, a spine that ran through the center of the island.
“I’m not sure anymore.”
Alec looked back over his shoulder. “Are they safe back there?”
“Jerry’s got it. Him and his boy are a formidable defense.”
Alec didn’t look convinced.
“I left my wife and daughter there, didn’t I?”
“Suppose so,” Alec said. “Just a little spooked.”
“Look, I’m programmed to think the worst so that I’m prepared for it. Chances are she wandered off and lost her way. Probably on the other side of the island wondering why she’s seeing waves coming in and wondering where our camp is. Or she’s up top there somewhere.” He pointed over the tree line. “Waiting for the sky to darken and the campfire to guide her back.”
“Speaking of the dark,” Rhea said. “How far are we?”
“Half-mile, maybe,” Sarah said. Then she yelled out, “Jennie!” The gentle breeze carried her voice away, and the thick vegetation threw it back in a series of echoes.
They hurried along at a steady clip. A few minutes later Sarah pointed at a break in the jungle.
“We entered there,” she said. “A path heads up the hill a bit.”