After Today (The After Series Book 1)

by Jacqueline Hayley

  “This street marks the northern perimeter of your watch.” Jefferies jerked his chin. “Radio in when you get to this point, and then head back. Your rations get docked if you’re caught standing still. We need our guards on the move at all times.”

  Jake nodded. He absolutely agreed with the importance of keeping the infection out of the town, however uneasy he may feel about implementing some of their policies. But turning people away who needed help didn’t sit right. Jefferies had been adamant there was no possibility of quarantining strangers looking for sanctuary.

  They were under orders to turn away anyone and everyone, and shoot if they didn’t take no for an answer.

  “Seriously? You’re condoning shooting innocent people looking for help?” Jake said.

  “We’re looking at the big picture, son. And your orders are to fire on anyone who doesn’t comply with our rules.”

  Jake knew he’d be hard-pressed to turn away another human in need, let raise a weapon to one. He resolved to speak to Townsend about it.

  “What about Willows Travel Lodge? It’s just around that corner,” he said.

  “What about it?” Jefferies snapped, an odd look flashing across his fleshy features. “It’s not part of your watch.”

  “I heard some of the older residents are being housed there. I wouldn’t mind checking in with my grandmother.”

  “Not your concern. When you’re on guard duty, you’re focused on the safety of this town. Is that understood?”

  Jake nodded, knowing he’d check in on Grams, regardless.

  “Not good enough, son. You’ll respond with a ‘yes, sir.’”

  Who the fuck did this power-hungry prick think he was?

  Jefferies grinned at the swift and obvious rise of Jake’s anger. “Son, we don’t give out chances. And only men we trust are allowed to guard this town. So are you going to ‘yes sir’ me, or are you going to walk your ass to the laundry?”

  Grinding his teeth, Jake forced out a strangled “yes, sir,” hating the triumph it elicited from Jefferies as he sauntered away.

  “Make sure you check in over the radio with every circuit,” Jeffries threw back.

  Shouldering his borrowed rifle, Jake glanced once again toward the travel lodge before turning to retrace his perimeter.

  He completed several loops of his circuit, keeping track of each new voice who responded to his radio communication. He knew all the men, and the knowledge relaxed him. Jefferies might be a massive dick, but the town was in safe hands.

  “Jake Brent, it’s good to see you, son.” Townsend strode over to meet him.

  Jake took a moment to register the difference between Townsend calling him son, and the way Jefferies had used the term.

  “Mr. Mayor.” He adjusted the hold on his rifle and wondered why Townsend was here. “What can I help you with?”

  “Walk with me a bit. It surprised me to hear you’d left town, especially to bring that Lyons girl back.”

  Back straightening, Jake gritted his teeth. “Why would that be surprising? Mackenzie”—he emphasized her name—“is a family friend.”

  “Of course,” Townsend placated, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “It just wasn’t a smart move to have left when you did.”

  Jake said nothing, and they continued walking.

  “I’m glad you made it back. You’re an asset to this town, Jake. I need men like you to help me keep Sanford going. I was hoping you could tell me about what you saw out there. Did you see any kind of government authority?”

  Jake recounted his trip to Chicago and back, unsure which details Townsend would think important. He was more interested in asking some of his own questions.

  “What’s happening with the quarantine at the hospital?” Jake asked.

  Townsend halted, and Jake stopped and faced him.

  “Come on, Jake. You just told me about the hospital at Essex. Everyone sent to the hospital was already dead, they just didn’t know it yet.” The mayor’s tone was slightly chiding, as though Jake should’ve figured that out already.

  “Why haven’t you told the rest of the community? They need to know what happened.”

  “Not yet. That would just create more unrest and chaos. We need to maintain order.”

  Townsend resumed walking and Jake fell in at his side. It surprised him to find he wasn’t shocked at the knowledge; unconsciously, he’d guessed at the fate of those who’d been “quarantined.”

  “What about outsiders who come to Sanford for help? Why are we turning them away without offering to quarantine them?”

  “You just said it yourself, son. Outsiders. This is a new world, and we can’t trust anyone. Until Sanford is fully established and running smoothly, we’re committed to being insular. No one in, and no one out.”

  When he asked what “fully established” meant, Townsend stonewalled him.

  “I meant what I said, Jake. We’re reshaping the world as we know it, and Sanford needs men like you. I’m holding a meeting with select individuals in the next couple of days, and I’d like you there.”

  Taking Jake’s acquiescence for granted, Townsend once again slapped him on the shoulder before striding off back to Main Street.

  Jake watched him go, a mixture of pride and loyalty stirring in his gut. He’d step up and help with guiding his hometown through their new reality.

  “Jake! Wait up,” called Quinn, jogging over as he rounded the corner onto Grove Street.

  “Can’t stop, man. If I don’t walk, I don’t eat,” he joked. “Do they really dock your rations if you stand still?”

  “Fucking pricks,” Quinn muttered, panting.

  “Since when are you out of shape?”

  Jake took in the sweat-stained front of Quinn’s t-shirt. Quinn was a big man, easily over six feet, but he was heavy with muscle and took his fitness seriously.

  “Fuck off. I’ve been working out. Thinking of seeing if anyone else wanted to start some workout sessions.” Quinn rubbed his bearded jaw and sighed. “Seems to me we could be facing a survival-of-the-fittest-type scenario. And some of these townsfolk—Jesus, they couldn’t run to the bakery for a pie sale without having a heart attack.”

  “You’re right. If it’s fight or flight, I don’t reckon many will stay to fight,” Jake said.

  “Kat’s going to tear me a new one when I tell her to do a push-up,” Quinn mumbled to himself, a rare smile lightening his features.

  “You ever going to tell that girl how you feel?”

  Quinn shot him a dark look. “Just because you finally made a move on Mac doesn’t make you an expert on feelings.”

  Jake chuckled, readjusting his rifle. “That’s not public knowledge, okay? She doesn’t want everyone knowing.”

  Quinn gave him an inscrutable look. “Okay.”

  “Hey, did you find out what’s happening with this raid to Dutton?”

  “That’s why I came to find you. Malcom Preston pulled out and they’re a man short. I recommended you. They’re leaving at sundown, thought it would be better to travel at night. Far as I know, their priority is to secure one of the fuel tankers from the Western Star depot. But once they have that, they’re happy enough to detour to a drugstore. Makes sense to stock up on all kinds of medication.”

  Jake kicked at a stone in his path, watching it bounce off an overflowing trash can on the sidewalk. Apparently, the council could organize a raid, but not trash collection.

  “I’m in. Do we even know what’s happening in Dutton? Maybe they’ve got a group of survivors who won’t be happy about sharing their supplies.”

  “I don’t think other communities are as organized as we are, which is why the raid is happening so quickly. Townsend wants to get in before they get their shit together.”

  Jake wanted to feel bad about taking supplies from another community, but he thought Townsend had the right idea. Until military or government help arrived, they needed to focus on the survival of Sanford.

  “I keep expecting
tanks or helicopters to arrive any minute, but until then, I guess it’s up to us. Anyway, the group is meeting outside the school at one o’clock to finalize plans for the raid. Jim Boston is the one running the show, I’ll let him know you’re good to go.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “Later.”

  Jake continued his perimeter walk, noting the bite to the fall wind that sent leaves and several plastic bags swirling across the road in front of him. With no street sweepers in operation, the roads were already looking derelict. If this was just a few days of neglect, what would it look like in a few weeks?

  Pulling his jacket tighter he walked on, counting down the minutes until he saw Mackenzie again.

  Chapter Ten

  Mackenzie hadn’t been back to the middle school since, well, since middle school. Not that she minded being back now. There was a comfort to walking the halls of her childhood.

  Those years were some of her happiest—her father got his shit together for a while, meaning she had clean clothes and a full belly. She’d had her three best friends, and enjoyed learning, reveling in the warm feeling of approval from her teachers.

  And really, if you had to hangout somewhere during an apocalypse, then a school with bright paintwork and motivational posters wasn’t a terrible choice.

  The cafeteria hadn’t changed at all. It had a nostalgic scent—not altogether pleasant—but reassuring all the same. Now that she was on the other side of the lunch counter, Mackenzie was gaining an appreciation for where the smell originated.

  “Here I was thinking that eggs came from chickens and were cracked out of shells,” Mackenzie said to Rachel. “Who knew they were actually powder in a box?”

  “It’s ridiculous how many foods have been dehydrated and reduced to powder,” agreed Rachel. “It’s not like kids need to eat real food, right?”

  Not that they were begrudging the huge stockpile of food. Thank the lord for well-organized lunch ladies.

  When Mackenzie had arrived an hour ago, a team of women were clearing and washing breakfast dishes, and another several were debating what they were going to produce for lunch. For over three hundred people.

  Rachel had thrown up her hands and stomped away. “I’m a vet, not a goddamn cook. I say the men find their own fucking food.”

  For the first time since this began, Mackenzie’s spine straightened with a sense of purpose. Sanford might not need an environmental lawyer, but food? She knew food.

  She’d spent a childhood getting inventive with sparse ingredients, making it stretch as far as it could. As an adult, she’d taken pleasure in knowing her bank account could support a full grocery cart and indulged in cooking elaborate gourmet meals.

  She’d decided on frittatas for lunch—it was easy enough to make in large quantities and would help what fresh food they had stretch farther. The other women were mostly grateful to have someone directing them, although a few gave her distasteful looks and she didn’t miss the hissed trailer trash that was lobbed her way.

  “Is cilantro too much to ask for?” Mac muttered, running a finger along the food shelves as she walked up and back.

  “The only spice that school cafeterias have is ‘bland.’ You’re wasting your time,” said Rachel, who’d relented and was energetically slashing at sweet potatoes.

  “What are you two nattering for? Lunch needs to be ready to be served in forty-five minutes.” Mrs. White tsked, a sixty-something widow who’d presided over the Sanford Women’s Club for the last decade and, having arrived several minutes ago, was intent on presiding over the cafeteria kitchen, too.

  She turned to the industrial sink, where women were rinsing the breakfast dishes and stacking the dishwasher, hindered somewhat by Jean Fiskette, who was washing tomatoes. “My dear, now is not the time to be washing fruit for the frittata,” she scolded, picking up a stray dish towel and swishing it in Jean’s direction. “It needs to be chopped, and pronto.”

  Jean’s face fell, tears falling unchecked.

  “Oh dear. No need for tears,” Mrs. White soothed, her kindness marred by an underlying briskness. “I know these are trying times, but we need to get on with our jobs.”

  “My Bill, he’s in quarantine, and no one will tell me how he is,” Jean whispered, wringing her wet hands.

  Cocking her head, Mackenzie stilled in her perusal of the shelves, listening. The quarantine issue had been playing on her mind all morning. She didn’t necessarily want to see her father, but she’d like to know where he was. Having not seen him at either the town meeting or the bar last night, she suspected he’d been taken to the hospital.

  “Why has no one gone to check on the hospital?” she asked.

  The other women ignored her.

  “She has a point,” Rachel interjected. “We’re all wondering what’s happening, and Townsend tells us they have it under control. But why hasn’t anyone gone to check?”

  Mrs. White gave them a side look and tutted at them to keep her voice down.

  “Because,” Jean whispered, “the last people who announced they were going to check didn’t come back. And Townsend has instructed that anyone who leaves the Safe Zone isn’t allowed back in.”

  “I’m sure we’ll hear news when there is some,” Mrs. White said.

  “I heard the bus drivers who took them away didn’t come back either,” one of the women at the sink said.

  “Enough chitchat, ladies. We have work to do. Back to it,” Mrs. White scolded.

  “What do you think is happening at the hospital?” Mackenzie murmured, sidling up to Rachel. “Three-quarters of the town are up there. They wouldn’t even all fit inside. How do we not know what’s happening?”

  “I heard they were using the undercover parking lot, which would make sense. But I honestly don’t think…” She paused.

  “Don’t think what?”

  “Mac, you’ve seen how fast this virus progresses once symptoms present. I just don’t… I don’t think there are going to be any survivors. It’s been four days. I doubt anyone at the hospital is still alive,” she finished somberly.

  Looking at the quietly sobbing Jean, Mackenzie swallowed, intensely grateful the people she cared about most in this world weren’t at the hospital.

  Which was instantly followed by a slug of shame. Did she really not care that her father might be dead? They hadn’t had a relationship in years, and she harbored a deep resentment for the shitty parenting he’d afforded her. But it was disconcerting to feel so little about his welfare. What did that say about her?

  What would Jake think of her being so callous?

  Jake.

  Warmth infused her chest. She totally had the hots for her best friend’s little brother. How had this happened? Closing her eyes, she ran a finger over her lips, a fierce longing almost making her tremble, even as the weight of their new world pressed down.

  Even if she was starting something with him—and, to be fair, their recent between-the-sheets (and against-the-door) antics indicated that convincingly—she still wasn’t prepared for the whole of Sanford to weigh in.

  She’d had enough of the town’s judgment to last a lifetime.

  Her stomach gave a little flip, remembering the way he’d sucked her finger last night.

  Just as quickly, a prickle of guilt washed over her. People were dead. Dying. And she was behaving like a lovesick teenager. Not to mention deceiving her best friend.

  “I know things are fucked up at the moment, but I am seriously disturbed that Vivienne Oxley is the one who’s in charge of looking after the kids in the crèche,” Kat announced, wandering back into the kitchen. She’d played hooky not long after Mackenzie had arrived. “She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She’s like one of those insects that eats its mate once they’ve had sex.” Kat jumped up to sit on the counter.

  “Hygiene, Kat,” Rachel reprimanded. “Get off the food prep worktop.”

  “You know what I overheard?” Kat continued blithely. “Jim Boston’s got
some biohazard suits. Fuck knows where he got them from, for the raid they’re going on tonight.”

  “Stop calling it a raid,” griped Rachel. “And get off the counter. Make yourself useful and go check that batch of frittatas in the oven.”

  Kat ignored her.

  “You know what else I heard?” Kat’s voice lowered and took on a gravity that had both Mackenzie and Rachel pausing. “Old Mrs Murray was beaten when they found out she’d hidden gas.”

  “What?” Mackenzie gasped, frittatas forgotten. “Is she okay?”

  “Some bruising on her face, and maybe a broken wrist,” Kat said somberly.

  “Are the whole of the council on drugs?” Rachel exploded. “My mother would never have allowed this shit to happen.”

  “Hopefully she’ll be back soon and can reason with them,” Mackenzie said.

  “They’re beyond reasoning with. They’re power-hungry chauvinistic assholes,” Rachel spat, swiping her eyes to hide brimming tears.

  “Why isn’t help coming?” Kat questioned. “Mac, you said you saw the military in Chicago, didn’t you? And a convoy in Essex? Surely, we’ll get some kind of information soon. A vaccine. Something.”

  They quietened as Mrs. White passed by, and Mackenzie’s gaze swung intuitively to the kitchen’s back door just as Jake walked through. His eyes scanned the room until he found her, a dimple popping in his cheek with that cocky grin. Tipping his head, he gestured for her to follow before backing away.

  Glancing around furtively, Mackenzie responded on light feet, slipping around boxed supplies and disappearing from the room unseen.

  Jake was pulling her to him before the door had even snicked closed and, although she wanted nothing more than to bury her head against his chest, her thoughts were so far from romantic it wasn’t funny.

  “What is it?” he asked, his finger lifting her chin so his concerned gaze could capture hers. “Not wanting to get frisky in the dirty alley behind the cafeteria?”

  “I’m scared,” was all she could muster. Mac didn’t know how to put into words the overload of emotion and information.