The Hunger's Howl

by A. D. Popovich

  “Great, I’ve got a plan and no one to buy the fish.” Scarlett frowned.

  “ ‘If you build it, they will come’ . . . What movie was it from?” Sheena asked.

  Scarlett shrugged; movies were nothing but a nostalgic memory.

  “Once we clean this place, people will line up like we’re giving away gold-plated iPhones.”

  “How do we keep from getting robbed?” That was Scarlett’s worry.

  “Leave it to me. I learned from Skeeter. I’ll lease the boxcars to the new vendors. And we’ll use the income to pay the guards.”

  “You think we can hire guards?”

  “Oh yeah, once refugees find out Boom Town and Last State’s going rate.”

  Scarlett wasn't sure it was a good idea. Avoid groups. Remember. But they didn’t have the gold to get into Last State. This was the perfect opportunity. Or not?

  “It should only take two or three months tops now that we call the shots. Partners?” Sheena held out her hand for a shake.

  Scarlett asked Twila with silent words and then asked the Silver Lady. Nothing came to mind. Scarlett and Sheena shook on it. Two or three months would make it May or June. Was it too long to stay in one place?

  “I was scoping the place out, seeing what was left behind. I’m ready to up my game. Sheena, Queen of the Desert Arms Dealer. I like the way it rolls off my tongue.”

  “I thought you wanted to be a baker?”

  “In Boom Town. The trick is to make as much moolah as possible before the next horde wipes us out. I stumbled on someone's cache of weapons and ammo at the river. It’ll give me a jumpstart. Plus all the supplies left behind. I don’t plan on staying here any longer than I have to. As far as the bread, people need to eat. I’ll bake until I hire my own team of bakers. Let those desperate suckers slave over the hot wood stoves behind the boxcars.”

  Scarlett found herself frowning. She barely knew this woman. She’d have to think about it tonight. Hopefully, the Silver Lady would send her a message in her dreams.

  “Having second thoughts? Believe me, I’ve got my own trust issues. There’s something about you, maybe it’s the defense attorney in me. I don’t think you’ve ever doublecrossed anyone in your life. And honestly, the Human Race won’t survive much longer unless we start working with each other—it’s knowing whom to trust. That’s the key.”

  Human Race, it sounded like something the Silver Lady might say. It was the bit of synchronicity Scarlett needed. Still, she worried about Twila. “I’m more worried about men with guns than creepers,” Scarlett finally admitted.

  “Smart woman. You keep wearing the pants around here. Let’s keep our cover story consistent: we hooked up after the Super Summer flu. And keep Twila hidden as much as possible. If we share the caboose, we can watch out for one another.”

  Sheena did seem sincere. Scarlett was out of options at this point. No gold, no food, no gun.

  “You don’t happen to have an extra gun?” Scarlett was almost embarrassed to ask.

  Sheena plopped a bag of weapons on the table. “Take your pick.”

  Scarlett’s hand trembled as she caressed the metal objects, objects of power and death. She chose the 9mm because it was familiar, and maybe because it reminded her of the alluring, mysterious man who had given her the one she’d lost. Her life forever changed that fateful day she had met Zac and Twila.

  Chapter 27

  After a three-spoonful cup of the miracle tea, Ella Vasquez awoke feeling no pain, only mild discomfort. Ella forced herself off the flimsy mattress for a look out the carriage window. She hadn’t traveled the past two days. The pain in her lower back and belly had made sitting in the driver’s seat unbearable. So when she had found a small stream, she had tied the horses to one of the small evergreen trees, allowing them to eat and drink while waiting for her nonstop prayers to bring help. Clutching the jade rosary too tightly, the only thing she had left from her prior life, she prayed for Justin to find her. Someone. Anyone. Or was she so lost nobody would ever find her? Not the demons. Not even God.

  Ella tried thinking positive thoughts. She still had pemmican, water, and the miracle tea. If she had calculated correctly, it was April. She’d be a mom soon. Too soon? The contractions were a new thing. Was eight months too soon to give birth without hospital care? And that was another worry; she didn’t know a thing about childbirth, other than what she had seen on TV.

  A bath sounded amazing. She waddled to the creek like a chubby duck. With towel and soap in hand, she dipped her toes into the cold invigorating water. She rejoiced in the simple pleasure of wading in the water without shoes. Something she would have been way too squeamish to do before the world had ended. The mud squishing between her toes was surprisingly refreshing. Giggling, she wiggled her toes deeper into the mud. The two stallions drinking from the creek kept giving her impatient glances. “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she chattered from the cold water, talking to the horses as if they were people. I’m going loco! She washed quickly.

  The stallions stopped drinking and anxiously swayed their heads from side to side. Their ears flickered. Their ebony hides rippled. They snorted at her, warning her. A sense of urgency hung in the desert’s warming air—a sense of danger.

  Complying with the warning, Ella refilled the tote bag with supplies and then untied the mess of a knot she had made when securing the horses. All the while the horses pranced about nervously. “I’m so not ready for this,” she muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. A feeling of vertigo swept over her. Without warning, the horses charged off.

  “Stop,” she yelled. Unable to control them, she let them run. Gradually their pace slowed, and she took control of the reins. Bobbling along in the driver’s seat, Ella let her mind go thoughtless and enjoyed the moment of just—being. A dust trail streaked across the desert like The Roadrunner caught in a dust storm. Meep, meep, she could almost hear along with her baby brother laughing in the background.

  Wild bison. The pounding of hooves overtook the desert. Ella jerked hard on the reins. Surprisingly, the horses obeyed, halting. For some reason, she felt drawn to follow the bison, maybe because they knew where they were going, and she didn’t.

  It was easy to follow in the herd’s wake, and it made her feel—not so lost. OMG, is that what I think it is? “Train tracks.” She squinted against the sunlight for a clearer view. “Yes!”

  “Texas, here I come!” she wooted.

  Chapter 28

  “Ready or not, here they come,” Sheena shouted from the top of a boxcar. “Time to make some moolah.” Sheena jumped down onto a crate and then to the ground.

  “Jeez, I hope so.” Scarlett fondled the butt of the 9mm. She had started wearing a holster, compliments of the many items left behind. She had even donned a cowboy hat and smudged her face with coals from the smoker. Playing the role of a man was liberating.

  Inwardly, Scarlett felt like a giddy Girl Scout waiting in front of a Safeway, selling cookies for the first time. Sheena had drilled her on bartering techniques. If a potential customer didn’t have gold or silver, then finagle a trade. “Don’t let anyone walk away empty-handed. If they lose, you lose,” Sheena had preached.

  On one end of her boxcar, Scarlett had made Twila a playhouse from stacked crates covered by a sheet of plywood, draped with a blanket to keep her hidden. An LED lantern provided plenty of light, allowing her to color and draw to her heart’s content.

  The first set of weary travelers rode in on haggard horses. Beyond the first wave, several horse-drawn wagons followed, and beyond the wagons were the people on foot. Sheena was right; people tended to travel in groups. The hive mentality probably gave them a false sense of security. Her stomach twisted into a knot, reminding her they’d have to wing it until they hired guards.

  Despite the embellished storefront names Sheena had come up with, Scarlett had painted SMOKED FISH & THINGS on her boxcar and BREAD & GUNS! on Sheena’s. Sheena sold bread and all things weaponry while Scarlett had a ra
ther odd assortment of items left behind at the camp. Alongside the bundles of smoked fish were Billy Bob’s supply of canned goods. Sunglasses, caps, Rolaids, Aspirin, a frisbee, and canteens cluttered the plywood countertop reminiscent of a ghetto swap meet.

  Three men with dust-covered faces approached. “What the hell is this place?” one of the men shouted, keeping his distance.

  Sheena yelled back, “Last Chance. Stock up, it’s roughly three hundred miles to Texas.”

  The men grumbled and looked behind them at the growing crowd. “We’ll never make it another three hundred miles,” one of the men said and plopped onto the ground.

  “Got anything to trade?” Sheena prompted. Sheena sounded impatient to get the bartering started.

  “How about this?” the man said, referring to the gun he pointed—at Scarlett.

  The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to her throat. She drew her gun in a flash, just like a character out of Tombstone. She tried out her huskiest voice. “We’ve got sharpshooters all around the place!” Scarlett bluffed, aiming the gun at his head. “I never miss.”

  The man shrugged. “I’m out of ammo anyhow.”

  “Plenty of ammo over here,” Sheena said, stealing Scarlett’s first customer. “Looks like a forty-five. I’ve got you covered—if you can pay?”

  Two men approached Scarlett’s counter. “We need food! Please help us?”

  “Sure, do you have any gold or silver?” Unexpectedly, Scarlett absorbed their hunger pangs deep within her belly.

  “Hell no!” The expression on the man’s face was that of complete devastation. He looked down at his hand. A gold wedding band. He held the ring up to the sun. “What will this get me? We were married for over ten years . . .” he said as if debating. “There’s four of us. How much food can I get?”

  How much fish does one give a man for his most-treasured possession? She had never really thought about it. And with all the people rambling into the camp, she’d be out of fish before the day was done. Thank goodness for the canned goods she had inherited. She should follow Sheena’s gameplan: outsourcing. It had always worked for America.

  “Sorry to say, the ring won’t buy your group enough food to get to Texas. What if—” she paused, thinking. “Can any of your people fish?” If she hired people to fish, she wouldn’t have to take Twila with her to the river. And even better, it would give her more time for smoking and selling. Perfect.

  “Why the hell not? Hey, Finley, didn’t you used to fish?” the man yelled back to the crowd gathering behind him.

  Finley, a scrawny scrap of a man wearing knee-torn jeans, a checkered shirt, and a straw hat, came stumbling up the metal ramp to her counter. “Hell yeah, I can fish. You got a reel?”

  “Here’s the deal. Use my equipment, and you keep twenty percent of your catch. I’ll even smoke your share. If it works out you can stay here until you have enough food to get to Texas.”

  “What if Finley keeps all the fish for himself?” one of the men shouted.

  “My handler’s got my back. So, play it cool unless you want to end up dead.” Scarlett found it easier to say with her thumb tucked into her hip holster. Enough people milled about; no one could possibly know only three females were in charge of the trading post.

  “Let’s blow this joint,” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Their scammin’ us,” another man joined in.

  “We offer temporary camp-sites with tents and a makeshift corral for the horses, along with hay and water. You’re welcome to stay the night. We even have portable bathrooms and showers behind the train,” Scarlett baited.

  “How much you gonna charge for that?”

  “An arm and a leg?” Another person shouted from the growing crowd.

  Scarlett smiled. “Compliments of Last Chance, once we get a detail of volunteers. Everyone does their part to keep the camp maintained. After you rest and buy what you need, you go to Texas. Easy as that.” In a perfect world, it all sounded fantastic, but Sheena had warned her. Things usually started out good until human nature took over, and people went from desperate to greedy.

  A fleeting image of a riot appeared. They couldn’t stay at the camp long. “Get your money and leave,” a voice whispered in her inner ear. And then the probing started. She automatically went into defense mode. She stared at the wagon caravan, envisioning she was in route to Texas. It should keep the Ancient Bloodlines busy for a while. There were wagon trains all over the U.S. It would be impossible to track down Scarlett and Twila . . . as long as she never pictured the train at Last Chance. She pushed it to the farthest depths of her mind and then dissolved the image in her mind, erasing it from existence.

  The people traveling by wagon train were in much better shape than the ones on horseback. They were the ones with the gold and silver. Did they have Last State’s outrageous entry fee? She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Let Sheena do it. Word would get around fast enough. After two hours of bartering, she was out of fish. She’d only earned a dozen pieces of gold jewelry; the rest had been trades. Always trading up to her advantage, unless someone was starving to death. Sadly, some of the refugees were a heartbeat away from turning creeper. Their faint auras flickered like a dim light bulb struggling for its last spark.

  Sheena had arranged a camp meeting at two p.m. to go over the camp’s rules. By late afternoon, they had six half-starved guards on duty. While Sheena scheduled volunteers to haul water, clean the portable restrooms, and maintain the makeshift corral, Scarlett slid opened the boxcar’s opposite cargo door and then snuck Twila to the caboose.

  “Time to play the Quiet Game, sweetie. I’ll be back soon. Don’t look out the windows. And don’t open the door for anyone.” Scarlett hated leaving her alone, but Twila needed the bathroom, and Sheena needed her help.

  By sunset, the camp was abuzz with over thirty people mingling around the roped-off sections for the horses and wagons, the tents, and picnic area. This just might work. When she had earned enough, they would disappear into the night. It was her plan. She hadn’t even told Sheena. Never trust—too much. It had been a hard lesson to learn.

  “Ready to lock up?” Sheena asked with a duffle bag full of what she assumed were weapons.

  “You think it’s safe to leave our inventory?” Scarlett wasn’t sure.

  “Take your valuables, of course. These padlocks are tough to cut through. Nevertheless, I’m sleeping on top of my boxcar tonight to discourage any foolish behavior.”

  Scarlett felt like she should do the same, but didn’t think it would be wise for Twila. Scarlett looked at Sheena, hesitating.

  “Don’t even think about it. Twila needs you. By the way, I gave the guards some bread and ammo and promised you’d feed them one meal of fish each day until we can lease out the other boxcars. Hope you’re cool with it.”

  “Sure. I was wondering how you bribed them.” Scarlett laughed. Sheena was a pro at this.

  “You did good today. You’ll make it out of here before me,” Sheena said as if reading Scarlett’s troublesome thoughts. “Let’s have a quick dinner in the caboose.”

  Scarlett slammed the boxcar door shut and then snapped the lock, double checking it. “Sounds great,” Scarlett said. It had been a decent day. Even Twila had been extra good. She had promised her a special treat if she behaved. Scarlett had been rather pleased with herself when she had traded a pair of sunglasses for a jar of homemade strawberry preserves. Twila loved strawberries. A slice of Sheena’s fresh baked bread smothered with preserves. Jeez, her mouth was already watering.

  They were eating, when a knock on the caboose door startled them. “We’re closed,” Sheena yelled through the door.

  “Lookin’ for Lewis. Got fish!”

  Sheena flashed Scarlett a slanted smile. “Fast learner,” Sheena complimented.

  Scarlett opened the door, gun in hand.

  “Here ya go. One dozen fish, gutted and filleted, just like you ordered,” Hinley said.

  “I alread
y took my cut,” the scrawny man said a bit guiltily. She didn’t care if he had taken more than his share. A dozen was more than she expected on the first day.

  “We’d like to fish tomorrow. If it’s okay with you. We found a great fishin’ hole.”

  “I’ll take as much as you can catch,” Scarlett said.

  “Same deal?” Finley asked, unsure.

  “Works for me,” Scarlett said in her woman voice. He gave her a strange look. “Sorry, I’m losing my voice.” She cleared her throat. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Well, well, Miss Entrepreneur,” Sheena applauded.

  “I’ll get up early and start the smokers. Are you out of flour yet?” Scarlett worried.

  “I scored a bin of flour from the wagon caravan. I have runners leaving at daylight to the Albuquerque source Skeeter used. I only went there once. They might not make it back.” Sheena grabbed her plate. “I’d better go. Don’t want anyone getting any ideas. Be safe. And—” Sheena stopped and whispered in her ear, “If there’s a horde attack. Stay inside. You can’t outrun them in the dark. They say they’ve acquired night vision.”

  Scarlett suddenly got the heebie-jeebies at the thought of a horde attack. She concentrated on her unreliable inner vision. No warnings. At least they didn’t have to spend the night in the tent.

  “Tell me the Beauty and the Beast story again.” Twila sat in Scarlett’s lap.

  “Sure, sweetie, you were such a good girl today.” Scarlett was happy for the distraction.

  “The Silver Lady made me promise to be extra good while we are here.”

  Trying not to sound irritated Scarlett asked, “What else did she say?”

  “She told me to hide from the bad people,” Twila said casually as if she were talking about her day at school. “Can I have more strawberry jelly while you tell me the story? Pretty please.” Twila batted her eyelashes.