Reduced

by Robin Tidwell

  “You son of a bitch.” Ted walked right past the body as it fell, back to the road.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Back at the campsite, Abby took her long-awaited shower and tried to ignore the blackened, crumbling outer walls of the nearby commissary. She shivered a bit, even though the sun was high and the breeze calm. She’d left Ted in the capable hands of Emmy and hurried down here as soon as she could.

  Ted had managed admirably on the drive back, following Abby in the second truck, but upon their return he’d immediately collapsed. Emmy was keeping an eye on him while he slept.

  Brad was in charge of dinner that evening and Abby idly wondered if it would be edible. She was rather hungry, having not eaten since early that morning. Then she remembered that the funerals would be tomorrow.

  Later that evening, following a decent dinner, actually, the group met in the kitchen shelter. No one else was around, too tired and subdued from the day’s events to want to socialize much. Cal was there, of course, trying to pull her emotions together, and Abby and Emmy. Janey had come in from the field much earlier that day and Brad was pouring coffee. Sandy had preferred to remain on duty; Pops and Noah strolled in together and Noah took a seat next to Abby. Zoe was with Ted, who was still fitfully sleeping.

  “So,” Cal said, bringing the meeting to order. She took a deep breath, let it out in a rush, and quickly added, “Candy and James tried to blow up the commissary, for unknown reasons, then took off. Abby and Ted went after them; they are no longer a threat.

  “Tomorrow . . .” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes once again. “Tomorrow at dawn we will have a service for Meg and Lorie, over near the Old Cathedral.” Cal sat down abruptly and Abby reached for her hand.

  Noah stood up. “Those who were injured . . . this morning . . . are all recovering well. We had a few minor burns and some scrapes, and one head injury; a slight concussion, but I don’t foresee any developing problems.

  “In other news, I’ve made very little headway on pinning down this virus but the spread has slowed and there’s no real evidence of contagion.

  “However, we’ve been monitoring any news sources that are still in operation, and it seems as though . . .” Noah paused and looked at Cal. She nodded.

  “You may as well hear it,” he said.

  “They’re estimating that a minimum of 95% of the world’s population is . . . gone.” He cleared his throat. “That means that there are fewer than three-and-half million people left in the world.

  There was a stunned silence.

  “In this area, with a prior population of just over one million, there would be almost 50,000 folks still here. However, we’ve been in touch with only a couple other groups, similar to ourselves, and so we know for sure that there are at least 200.”

  Nobody moved, nobody spoke. It was inconceivable that so many had died or, even worse, disappeared. Unreal.

  “This incident occurred almost two months ago, and it seems that St. Louis, being right in the middle of the country, was hit pretty hard. Then, too, there may be others out there who are not organized or who are unable to communicate, others who are barely surviving or will be unable to do so for much longer.”

  Pops stood up. “I reckon it’s my turn to speak my piece,” he began. “We do have about 50 folks here at the camp, and it seems to me that should be our main concern. I’ve been studying on it for a bit the last few weeks or so, and here’s what I propose.

  “Calypso and I had a mighty fine talk this afternoon and, while she’s going to remain in charge and be our go-to person, and Noah’s going to do his level best to keep us all healthy, looks like I’m running the camp itself. Leastwise until I keel over myself which, Lord willing, won’t be for quite some time.

  “Anyways, here’s the plan, and I’ll keep it short ‘cause I know you all are worn out and wanting to head to bed soon. Janey has found us a spot up on top of this here hill behind us; that’s just about at the property and fence line, which won’t keep out any determined varmints but there’s nothing past there except fields and some more woods. Plenty of room to see something coming at us. Brad is arranging to turn it into a site for us to hunker down in, and we expect to move up there in a week or so.

  “Abby, we’re gonna need you to check the whole fence line, making repairs as you go if those are possible. And of course, scouting out anything nearby. I expect you might need some help, but I’ll leave that up to you; there’s a lot of ground to cover. Once that’s done, we’ll prepare to pull back. Sandy’s already working on a new perimeter, and she and Janey will be in charge of that.

  “We’ll also be sending crews into town on a regular basis, alternatin’ days, so to speak, so we can restock and reassess the whole situation.

  “Any questions?” Pops looked at Cal. She shook her head. “All righty then, we’ll meet over at the base of the Cathedral at 0700.”

  Abby, Emmy, and Noah started slowly up the hill as everyone began making their way out of the shelter and into the night. They climbed silently, mourning those who were lost, thinking about what was to come. Emmy broke off from the group to go check on Ted and relieve Zoe, and Abby and Noah seated themselves on the step outside the tent.

  Exhausted, Abby leaned against Noah and he put his arm around her, gently. The two sat for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

  As the moon rose, Abby turned to Noah and kissed him.

  She took his hand and led him inside.

  The day of the funerals dawned cool and crisp, a typical Midwestern October morning. The leaves were turning, the breeze was still; a heavy dew lay on the grass. The entire group, nearly 50 refugees, walked slowly in pairs and groups over to the east side of Sunnytop.

  Brad and his construction crew had labored the day before to build the two coffins and dig the first graves for the small community. Everyone knew that, eventually, there would be more.

  Silently, they filed past the two who had been lost, each pausing for moment in prayer or thought, perhaps resting a hand upon the new wood. Climbing to the huge rock that overlooked the meadow, they silently sat in a circle and waited.

  Finally, Cal stood up. She spoke of Lorie, and told how they’d first met; she talked of Lorie’s contributions to the group and ended with expressing her deepest sympathy to everyone, especially Ted.

  Several others stood, in turn, and talked about Lorie. Then Ted arose and stumbled to the front of the group.

  He managed. Barely.

  Emmy helped him back to his seat.

  Abby walked to the front of the group, all of them silent. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Her heart ached, especially for Cal. Meg, she knew, was probably smiling at them, encouraging them, and so she imagined Meg’s voice in her head.

  “Suck it up, sister! I know it’s rough, hell, I invented rough—but it’s all ya got now.”

  Abby began to talk about her old friend and mentor. Finally, it was all over.

  Cal stoically led the way back down the hill, and they lowered the coffins into the ground. Meg and Lorie were gone. A cool rain began to fall.

  The following week was a busy one. Immediately after the burials, eight individuals had approached Cal and stated their intention to leave. Cal directed them to Zoe, who had taken over the commissary, and the small group was outfitted for their departure.

  They left on good terms, unlike James and Candy, but had declared they had not felt safe since the threats had been brought to light some time ago. And especially after the explosion itself.

  Abby reluctantly accepted the nominal title of Cal’s assistant, as long as she was in camp. However, following Pops’ game plan, she geared up and spent the better part of that week tromping through the woods. She left Juliet in Millie’s care, with strict instructions to trust the girl to no one else but Emmy. Emmy, she knew, would never let the girl wander. And there was Bob to keep an eye on things as well. Of course, the last time the dog had happily been an accomplice.

&nb
sp; Abby’s plan was to start at the new camp site, up on Purple Mountain, and work her way back over the ridge to where the old corral had once stood. From there, she’d go down the natural terraces and to the lake; it would be a slow process, as she felt it necessary to recheck some of the abandoned units along the way. She’d arranged for Emmy to bring Juliet to the lake on her third day out; she knew Juliet would be missing her and she thought better safe than sorry where the girl was concerned. And, too, she admitted to herself, she would want to see Juliet as well. And Emmy, of course. Maybe they could spare a couple hours.

  As Abby stepped out of woods and the glittering water appeared, she could see a tiny figure on the dock, waving. She quickened her step, slightly fearful until she spied Emmy sitting on a picnic table under the shelter.

  She jogged down the hill and scooped up Juliet, hugging her tightly. “Hey, what about me?” laughed Emmy. Abby set Juliet down and grabbed her friend, planting a kiss on her cheek for good measure. Bob, of course, got in on the action and gave Abby a few good licks, tail wagging.

  The three walked onto the beach area, Abby gratefully dropping her heavy pack. She stretched out on the sand, warm from the sun; a contrast to the chilly breeze. Juliet plopped down on her lap and snuggled against her chest.

  “So, Em. Tell me all the news.”

  “Nah, you first.”

  “Well,” said Abby, mockingly, “The birds all seemed in fine form; the squirrels are socking away acorns like crazy. The raccoons, however, thankfully stayed out of sight.” Abby shuddered. She’d been treed by a ‘coon once and hadn’t forgotten the terror of those glowing eyes yet. Juliet giggled.

  “All right, all right, you win! Surely I can do better than that!” Emmy became serious.

  “We lost five more, Abby. They just took off during the night, but they left a note. Said it was too cold, or would be, and they’d rather be indoors.

  “I mean, seriously? With what? A fire in the middle of some living room?” Emmy shook her head. “Whatever. So that means there are just a few dozen of us left.”

  Abby mentally counted. There were ten of the core group remaining; that left just twenty additional people. She hoped the new bunker area was coming along quickly, if they lost too many more before it was finished, it might be difficult to actually winter here as they’d planned.

  She sighed.

  “Okay, what else?”

  “Let’s see . . . the tent frames are finished, we packed the canvas up there yesterday. We’re starting to dig the trenches and Janey’s been setting up a couple outposts. A lot of equipment has been hauled up there too. A lot,” Emmy repeated, rubbing her sore arms.

  “And tomorrow, I’m taking a crew into town.”

  Abby started for a moment. Emmy was quite capable, of course, but Abby was afraid for her. She’d much rather Emmy stayed here, safe, until she herself was able to go. Unfortunately, she still had a good five days or so to finish this assignment.

  “Great!” she said, trying to smile. “Find me some beer, will ya?” With that, she dumped Juliet off her lap and pounced on Emmy, tickling her mercilessly until she laughed so hard she began to cry. Abby held her until she calmed, and Juliet cuddled with them both, looking serious and sad and poking her thumb into her mouth.

  Abby promptly plucked said thumb out of the girl’s mouth and kissed the top of her head.

  “All right, both of you, listen to me. Yes, this is tough, and yes, we’ve been through a lot already. But we have to do this—we don’t have a choice. We can’t give up. This is it, chickadees.

  “Bad as it is, the alternatives are worse. Now, c’mon, let’s have some lunch. We’ve all got work to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Abby hiked straight up the backside of Sunnytop from the lake and made camp. She’d sent Emmy and Juliet off after lunch, gratefully stowing a few treats they’d brought her. She knew she probably wouldn’t see them again until she’d finished her rounds. She’d hiked around the lake before her ascent, but the fence line hadn’t been disturbed and she’d seen nothing unusual; still, it was full dark before she was able to sit down and rest for a bit.

  After she finished some dried beef and a package of ramen, Abby settled back against her bedroll for a smoke. She was tired. Tired from thinking and planning and worrying. Today it was just too much and, overwhelmed, she closed her eyes for a few minutes.

  She remembered meeting with Cal, the initial information she’d been given. It hadn’t required much consideration to join the group, it didn’t sound like she’d had much choice. And besides, there certainly wasn’t anything or anyone else to stop her.

  She’d recruited Emmy, the one constant in her life, with the full approval of Cal and so here they were now. Hiding, scrounging, fearful. But, Abby shrugged, alive. And with some hope, at least. Things weren’t really so bad. For now.

  By morning, Abby had regained some of her optimism and packed up the campsite, hiking to the west. Nothing to note, as she’d expected since she was some distance inside the property line. Back along the eastern ridge and descending near the camp gates, Abby was amused that she could just barely spot Sandy on guard duty; few others would find it so easy to discern a slight movement, high in a tree.

  She continued on, climbing the southern slope of Eagle. She paused halfway up for a quick handful of trail mix and a swig or two from her water bottle.

  She paused again, just a few feet further, when she smelled smoke.

  Dropping to the ground, Abby cautiously looked around as far as she could turn her head in both directions. She narrowed her eyes, focusing beyond and through the leafy underbrush. She heard a twig crack.

  There. Up a bit higher and to her right. She slowly reached back for her .357 and pulled it forward, checking the chamber and releasing the safety. She waited, scarcely breathing.

  Footsteps sounded, making more noise than warranted, but they were moving away from her. Within minutes, they faded, the source of the noise making no attempt to either engage her or to hide his presence.

  Abby lay still for a few more minutes, straining to hear.

  Finally, she stood up and replaced her weapon, warily checking the immediate area. When she reached the spot where the intruder had first appeared, she studied the ground for a few minutes. Two choices: follow, or continue her assignment.

  Naturally, she opted to follow.

  Abby first stowed her pack, camouflaged, at the base of a tree; she marked it with a tiny chink in the trunk near the ground.

  She swapped out her water bottle for a full one and made sure her knife was in its sheath and double-checked her gun. Pockets full of jerky and trail mix, she started off after the intruder.

  When she reached the fence line, Abby paused. She’d easily tracked him, but could see no break; ah, there it was! Cleverly hidden, but not so much that a trained woodsmen wouldn’t see it. She slithered, belly down, through the opening and crouched near the chain link, waiting.

  She heard nothing at first. Then, cautiously turning her head, holding her breath, footsteps. They were moving away from her. She took a quick swallow of water and started walking in the direction of the sounds.

  Abby moved silently, watching the ground, the trees, and glimpses of sky. She focused on the intruder. He obviously wasn’t expecting to be followed or, indeed, had any knowledge that she was nearby. Then he stopped.

  Murmuring voices, low, and then nothing. Now there were two sets of footsteps, in sync with each other; the odds didn’t worry Abby at all, not yet.

  One hundred yards ahead, the pair stopped. So did Abby. She could hear sounds of a campsite, a match striking, a pot being set on the fire. Apparently, the men believed they were at a safe distance from the camp itself. She could hear conversation as well, although it was muted.

  She made herself comfortable at the base of a tree, putting the tree itself between her and the campsite. She glanced up and saw that she could easily climb, if need be, and quickly too. Bits and pieces of th
e conversation began to drift toward her.

  “Cal . . . nice setup . . . moving the site . . .”

  “We’ll show her . . . too bad . . . James . . .”

  “. . . Need to take them . . . soon . . . few days . . .”

  “Better check in . . .”

  “. . . In a minute . . .”

  Abby had heard enough. Silently, she began to climb the tree, just high enough for a decent view but still hidden in the leaves. It seemed as though these two were the scouts for a bigger group, an unknown entity, and had at least heard of Cal. Possibly they were the source of the threats Cal had received a month or so ago.

  At any rate, Abby wasn’t about to let them “check in” with anyone. This was a direct challenge with substance—the men had a plan which they were about to implement. No choice.

  She looked out through the branches and analyzed the situation. Two men, average size. A shotgun propped up against a tent pole. No other weapons in sight. Abby realized, of course, that that meant little; she assumed there were more because thinking any other way could mean death.

  One man, taller, presumably the one she’d followed, appeared slightly more watchful than the other. He paused every so often to stop and look around, and seemed alert. However, based on his so-called skill in the woods, Abby was confident that it was mostly for show. His companion was relaxed and unaware of his surroundings.

  Abby waited, and listened.

  “Hey, Jeff! What do you want for dinner?”

  The taller man looked up, and Abby saw his face. She recognized him. And so would Cal. He was the dangerous one.

  The one she’d shoot first.

  Years ago, Cal and Jeff had been an item. A few of their friends were happy; mostly Jeff’s friends. Abby had had a bad feeling about the union from the start. Things were fine for the first six months and then, suddenly and inexplicably, the two were married.

  It lasted almost exactly, to the day, two years.