by Lopez, Rob
“They might get smart and post a lookout next time, that’s why it matters. Anyway, I want to keep them sweet until we’ve had a chance to talk to them.”
“Why are you so obsessed with talking to retards? Throw a flashbang down the vents, flush them out and spread them with their hands behind their heads. We’ll soon get the information we want out of them.”
“That’s plan B. Let’s just see how things go tomorrow, okay?”
“You going to try and talk to them tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I think it will be a good time.”
“Oh sure. It’ll be peachy.”
*
“Get the goddamn hell off my goddamn land!”
“Sir, we’re not on your land.”
“You’re close enough!”
Rick was at least fifty yards away, sheltering behind a brick gate pillar in the front yard of some McMansion on the same street. In the far distance he could see the church tower – the same tower from where they’d been shot at a few days ago. Lauren was now positioned in the tower, the big scope on her hunting rifle focused on the target house. They’d approached the area just before dawn, getting themselves into position, but as Rick and Scott advanced down the street, they’d encountered an armed young man heading to the church – probably to occupy the same tower. Rick had hailed him, to talk, but the young man took one look at them and turned tail, discharging a badly aimed shot in their general direction. Rick hadn’t bothered shooting back. He simply took cover and waited. An upper window in the target house had opened, and the man who was now yelling at them, a fat older man, had appeared, brandishing a civilian assault rifle. He didn’t appear amenable to negotiation.
“We just want to talk,” shouted Rick.
“Then why’d you shoot at my son?” said the man.
“I didn’t shoot at him. He’s the one who fired the shot.”
“Bullshit! He says you were the ones who tried to kill him four days ago.”
“He fired at us first.”
“Yeah, that’s what we do to marauders. You won’t find us so easy as the others.”
Rick wondered what others the man was talking about. He focused his binoculars on Lauren’s position. She had him in view, and she raised five fingers, then another five fingers.
That meant she could see five people in the house, with five guns. That was a lot. If they were as tactically inept as the man standing in the window, however, or as terrible at aiming as his son, they might not be as big a threat as they looked. Especially as they were content to stay within the illusory stronghold of their home, instead of coming out and trying to flank Rick and Scott.
Scott sat calmly behind the other pillar.
“What do you think?” murmured Rick.
“I think we’ve just found the Hatfields,” said Scott.
“If you don’t want me to fill you full of holes,” yelled the man, “then I suggest you get the hell out and don’t come back.”
Scott looked bored. “Can I shoot him now?” he said.
“Not yet,” said Rick. “Just cover me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try and get this idiot to talk with me.”
Scott let out a hissing sigh. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep doing that.”
“Just watch my back, okay?”
Rick unslung his rifle. Pulling his Glock out of the holster, he pushed it into his waistband behind his back. “I’m coming out,” he yelled. Holding his rifle in the air so it was clearly in view, he laid it down on the ground.
“You stay right where you are,” shouted the man.
“I’m coming out to talk,” called Rick. “To parley.” He stood up with his arms out.
“There ain’t nothing to talk about,” yelled the man. “We ain’t going to surrender.”
Rick took a step forward. “I’m not asking you to surrender,” he said.
The man standing in full view at the open window was dressed in old BDU camo gear, though whether he’d ever served was another question. Rick was sure the man had Lauren’s crosshairs planted firmly on his chest. In another window he could see the tense face of the son. Considering how trigger-happy he was, Rick considered him the greater threat and made a point of watching him carefully.
“That’s far enough,” said the man when Rick reached the center of the road. “Put your hands high in the air.”
Rick had already agreed with Lauren that raising his hands would be the signal for her to open fire.
“You don’t want me to do that,” said Rick, keeping his arms horizontally out.
“The hell I do,” said the man, brandishing his rifle.
Rick halted. “Look, I’m just here to talk. My name’s Rick and I don’t see why we can’t work together. We’re all survivors. There’s no reason why we can’t get along.”
“I told you already, we’ve got nothing for you. What we’ve got is for me and my family. If you people haven’t prepared, then that’s your problem.”
“We’re not marauders and I don’t want your stuff.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“Making contact,” said Rick reasonably. “We can trade and share skills, can’t we? Hard times are coming and we’ll all make it through better if we pull together and pool our resources.”
“Don’t give me that socialist crap. I don’t redistribute nothing.”
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“It’s what you meant, though.”
“No, it isn’t. What’s the matter with you? Do you think everybody’s a threat?”
“Mister, you know they are. And if you don’t, it’s because you’re stupid. Or a liar. Armageddon’s here and people will do anything to stay alive.”
“Sure,” said Rick, “and sometimes working together and making alliances is a good way to stay alive.”
“It’s also a good way to get a knife in the back. Forget it. We don’t need nobody and I suggest you go back to where you came from. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t come around no more.”
Another face, a female one, appeared at another window, staring anxiously out like she expected to see the army of the Antichrist.
“There are threats out there,” said Rick. “Opportunists, mostly. But if they band together, they’ll pick the rest of us off, one by one. Sir, I’ve served in many places and I’ve seen how warlords work. I’ve got a family too, and I also want to keep them safe.”
“And you want to shelter them here?”
“No,” said Rick, getting a little exasperated. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
The man paused, allowing himself time to think, and for a second he looked like he was starting to understand.
“Who’d you vote for in the last election?”
Rick stared at him for a moment. “Okay, I quit,” he said. “You have a good day, sir.” He backed away.
“Hey! I just want to know whose side you’re on.”
Rick paused, eyeing him. “None of that stuff matters anymore,” he said.
The man looked confused. “Of course it matters. Are you into freedom or not?”
Astonished, Rick answered, “Freedom to do what?”
“What do you mean?” said the man, perplexed. “Freedom. It’s a thing. The constitution. It’s what it means to be American.”
Rick really wasn’t sure he was hearing him right. “What constitution? There is no fucking constitution. Look around you.”
“Hey, you watch your mouth …”
“No,” said Rick, stabbing his finger. “Get this into that thick skull of yours. The old world’s gone. All the politics, all the bumper stickers, it’s over. We’re on our own, winter’s coming and the system’s collapsed. This is Survival 101 and if you’re not adapting to the way things are, you’re going to die and nobody’s going to give a damn how you voted or what your rights used to be.”
Affronted, the man said, “I think you’d
better leave.”
“Don’t worry,” said Rick, turning to go. “I’m done. And if that idiot son of yours takes one more shot at us, I swear you’re going to be burying him.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Rick called back, “Take it under advisement. Or don’t, I don’t really care anymore. You’re on your own.”
It was a long walk back to cover, and Rick realized he shouldn’t have lost his temper. Cautiously, so as not to trigger anything, he maintained a steady pace, but he kept a wary eye on the faces at the windows, his hand hovering close to the Glock. When he finally reached the gate pillar, he sank down behind it, his head back against the bricks, sighing heavily.
“Did it go as well as I thought it wouldn’t?” said Scott.
“I’m losing my patience,” said Rick.
“What did he say?”
“He wanted to know how we voted.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Scott laughed. “Damn, I wish I’d heard that.”
“I’ll let you do the negotiating, next time.”
“Definitely not, unless you want a bunch of bodies left over. So, are we going to have problems with the Hatfields?”
Rick holstered his pistol and picked up his rifle. “I don’t know. Give me a while to think about it.”
“Sure. And while you’re at it, you might want to rethink this whole strategy of yours.”
21
“It’s because of modern living,” said Chuck. “People stopped learning to trust each other. If they were down on their luck, they had welfare. If they had problems with a neighbor, they had lawyers. There was always a third party to take care of our problems, so we never had to learn to take care of them ourselves. Take away the State, and all people have left is their distrust. And their fear. Because that’s what the system ran on.”
“Maybe,” said Rick. “What about that mushroom over there?”
“Nah, that’s poisonous.” Chuck strode over to pluck it, turning it upside down. “See these white gills? Combined with the frayed cap, that’s a lepiota. They form fairy rings, usually on lawns. Steer well clear.”
They were in woods by the Briar Creek, behind the Eastover Ridge apartments. In spite of Chuck’s best attempts, Rick remained completely unable to tell good mushrooms from bad. There were so many varieties, it was baffling.
“Ooh, look,” said Janice, pointing with her walking stick at a mass of cinnamon-colored fungus growing on a fallen log. “Chicken of the woods.”
Suffering from arthritis in the hips, she’d been in two minds whether to make the trip, and Rick would have preferred it if she hadn’t, as it slowed them down considerably. When she made her mind up, though, she wasn’t one to take no for an answer.
Bella the dog trotted over to sniff at the fungus.
“Now that’s an easy one to identify,” Chuck informed Rick. “And it does kind of taste like chicken, hence the name.”
Lauren and Scott stood guard around the edge of the group, staring into the trees. Josh stalked through the woods, ever on the alert for squirrels. As soon as he moved, however, Bella would bound over to him, clumsily crashing through the dry ferns. She was fascinated by the boy, and whenever she saw a squirrel, she would give chase, ruining Josh’s hunt. Josh bore no hard feelings, and would stroke the dog when it came to him, which only attracted Bella more.
“Your boy’s a keen hunter,” said Chuck as he observed Josh taking aim at something in the trees.
The air rifle cracked and a pigeon tumbled down into the undergrowth. Bella immediately dashed over to search for it, its tail wagging above the ferns as it sniffed about.
“Yeah, he’s learning fast,” said Rick.
The dog lifted its head to look back at Josh, who ran over to retrieve the dead pigeon.
“Well, that’s your dinner,” said Chuck.
Josh was grinning, holding the bird up and ruffling the dog’s head.
“They make a good team,” said Janice.
Rick said nothing, remembering the period when Josh had pestered him for a dog and he’d said no. In retrospect, he couldn’t remember why he’d refused and now wished he hadn’t.
Sometimes he wondered how much of an asshole he’d been.
“I wouldn’t worry about what happened with those folks,” said Chuck. “Some people won’t change, no matter what.”
“Hmm?” said Rick, shaken from his reverie. “Oh, them. I’ve forgotten about them already. I don’t want to waste my time. I think they’re the ones who’ve been siphoning gas from the garage for their generator, though, and that potentially puts them between you and us. I’d prefer it if you were in the clubhouse. Logistically, it makes everything a lot easier.”
Chuck scratched his beard. “I dunno. We’ve had no trouble so far, and I kind of like my home comforts.”
“We can make the place as comfortable as you want. You can even choose one of the houses nearby.”
Chuck and Janice exchanged looks. Rick had already broached the subject to them on the way out.
“We’ll give it some more thought,” said Chuck. “Meanwhile, I’d like to get back with our haul. You say you’ve got some cans of dog meat to trade?”
“Sure, we’ve got no takers for that. I think the kids were worried we’d have to eat it ourselves.”
“I want to meet these children,” said Janice eagerly. “If I had the eggs, I’d bake them a cake.”
“Chickens,” said Chuck ruefully. “I was thinking about getting some, but we never did. Too late now, I guess.”
Rick had a feeling they’d have been stolen and eaten by now, anyhow. “Let’s move out.”
Scott took point, patrolling ahead while the group moved slowly to accommodate Janice’s pace. The bleak sun dropped behind the treeline, shedding its warmth and casting cold shadows across the creek. The bridge carrying highway 16 loomed ahead, and Scott climbed a slope to survey the road before they passed underneath. He ducked down immediately and sent an urgent hand signal to Rick.
“Everybody down,” hissed Rick.
The group stopped, and Lauren took up position behind a log, rifle aimed at the bridge. Chuck and Janice remained standing, not knowing how to react.
“Get behind that tree there,” said Rick, “and stay low. And please, keep the dog quiet.”
Moving swiftly to Scott’s position, Rick crawled up the slope next to him. “What you seen?” he said.
“There’s a guy on the road,” murmured Scott. “Headed this way. Can’t see any weapons on him.”
“Okay, we need to find out what he’s doing here.”
“You want to parley with him, too?” said Scott sarcastically.
Rick narrowed his eyes at him. “Funny. Just wait here until I get around behind him.”
Rick moved down the creek bank and then up by some houses, skirting around the yards and peering through the trees until he could see the figure moving along the road.
It was a young guy with a beard and backpack. He looked lean and tired. Rick waited until he’d gone by, out of sight, then broke cover to advance to the road.
After his recent encounters, he decided not to play at being the nice guy anymore.
“Hold it right there! Put your hands on your head.”
The man, startled, staggered about on the spot, trying to see where the shout had come from. Rick emerged from the shadows, rifle aimed, and Scott followed suit farther up the road, cutting off the man’s escape.
“I said get your hands up!”
“Hey, don’t shoot,” mumbled the man. “I wasn’t doing anything, man.”
“Drop to your knees and keep your hands on your head.”
The man obeyed, his face pale. “Just take my stuff, alright? Here, it’s in the bag. Just take it.”
While Rick covered him, Scott frisked the traveler, pulling a semi-automatic pistol from his jacket pocket, which he threw to Rick.
“I don’t want your stuff,” said Rick. E
xtracting a full magazine from the pistol, he checked the chamber but found it empty. “Get up.”
The traveler rose uncertainly, glancing nervously at Scott’s M4 that was still aimed at him. “Then what do you want?” he stammered.
Rick handed him back the empty pistol. “Just information.”
The man stared at the proffered gun, and seemed afraid to actually take it, in case it was a trick. “Information? About what?”
“About anything. And you can put your hands down now.”
The man kept his hands up. “What do you mean, anything?”
Rick put the pistol back into the guy’s pocket and physically pulled his arms down. “You can relax now. We just needed to check you out. I only want to know where you’ve been and what you’ve seen. Then you can go on your way.”
“You mean, just go?” said the man, like it was barely beyond the realm of possibilities.
“Sure. You’ve come up from the south?”
“I don’t know,” said the man cautiously. “Would that be a good answer or not?”
Scott’s face cracked as he suppressed his laughter. Rick sighed. “This isn’t a test,” he said. “I’m not interested in your stuff, and you’ll be free to go. I’m just looking for news from outside the city. My name’s Rick, this is Scott, and we’re not here to hurt you.”
“Unless you do something stupid,” said Scott with forced seriousness.
“Which you’re not going to do,” said Rick.
The man looked at them both. “If you wanted to talk, why didn’t you just call out to me?”
Scott looked as if he was going to laugh again.
“That might have been a better approach,” said Rick with a frown, “but my friend and I are of two minds about which method is best.”
“Man, that is just cruel,” said the guy. “You’re just, like, playing with people.”
“Scott,” said Rick. “Go tell the others they can come up.” Turning to the guy, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Larry,” said the guy.
“Okay, Larry. Let’s just sit down on this pickup bed. I’ve been on my feet all day, and you look beat too.” Rick pulled his bag around to open it. “Do you want some fungus? Apparently, it tastes like chicken.”