“Agreed. I’ve set up a perimeter watch and Radzinski’s lighting a fire. We’ll be safe—for the time being, anyway.”
“Good, I’ll let everyone know we’ll be staying here the rest of the night then.” Tobias returned to the caravan as he holstered his sidearm, the trace of a smile on his face, the first in days.
From their vantage point inside of the vehicles, the remaining citizens of Pepperbush took the sight as a small sign of relief. Fears temporarily quelled, the frightened people began to make their way to the cabin.
“One lonesome cabin out in the middle of nowhere? I like it. I bet the view is spectacular in the light,” Lillian mentioned.
“I’m sure it is,” said Vanessa. “Tomorrow I think I’ll head down one of the other roads, see if they head higher into the hill. Maybe get a better view of our surroundings.”
“Wonder why the rocks stop where they do. You’d think they could have given this guy a new driveway while they were at it.” Lillian kicked a few stones around the dirt.
“The gravel road probably means new construction. That’s what I’m hoping, anyway. If so, the cabin’s most likely a holdout. The guy didn’t want to sell so they’ll just build around him.”
“That’s kind of messed up.”
“Who are you telling? Same thing happened to my parents a decade ago. Developers don’t give a shit. By the time ground’s broken here, they’re already planning the next site. They’ll move on and not think twice about some old house or land that’s been in someone’s family for six generations.”
“Depressing. What happened to your parents? I mean, after they had to sell.”
“They moved in with us for a while. I think the whole ordeal broke them a little, losing the house. Dad passed away six years ago last winter. Mom followed him almost a year later to the day.”
“Jesus, Vanessa. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Don’t be, really. They loved life and were proud to see me so happy. Besides, I wouldn’t want them to have to live through this.” Vanessa motioned around to the beat-up cars and worn-out filthy group of survivors. Bernie was engrossed in scraping the last remnants from the bottom of a bent can of food, Samantha still jumping at shadows. All around them, nervous survivors with guns patrolled the area. “As fast as we had to move and as bad as this is, I absolutely would not have left them behind. So the three of us would be standing right here now with you, or we’d all still be in Pepperbush, watching it burn.”
Damon wouldn’t take his eyes off Samantha. He watched as she daintily explored her surroundings, slowly leaving the safety of the vehicles and inching her way toward the cabin. Every rustle of a bush or peep from the forest’s inhabitants sent the girl halfway back to the car.
“Stop jumping at every goddamn thing. You’re pissing me off,” Damon said, frustrated with her every breath.
“Excuse me if I’m not comfortable in the middle of the woods.”
“You think I like it out here? I’m from Baltimore. I barely know what a tree looks like, you redheaded bitch.”
Markus intervened. “What the fuck man? Chill.”
“Enough, all of you!” Marisol demanded, just above a whisper but forceful, nonetheless. She put an end to all of it. “Keep it down. Start unpacking your shit.”
Marisol barely gave the trio a second glance as she nudged by, closer than necessary. Her proximity only proved to heighten Damon’s ire, though he kept it bottled up. Markus was merely thankful for the impromptu intervention, as even he was growing weary of Damon’s outbursts of late. Marisol moved past them on her way to the back of the caravan, where Sam stood vigilant, one eye to the road behind them and the other on the darkened forest. She approached from behind and placed a firm hand on the man’s shoulder to let him know she was there as she handed him a much-needed bottle of water. “Take a load off, Sam. I can take watch for a while.”
“Appreciate it, darling, but I won’t be able to sleep, anyway.”
Marisol took up a seat beside Sam on the trunk of a car. She laid her rifle beside her and lay back against the rear window. “If you don’t mind the company, I’d love to just lie here and look at the sky for a while.”
“By all means,” Sam said as he joined her on the trunk, though he wouldn’t lie down.
Isabelle glared at her husband scurrying around with his new friends. He would point in one direction and someone like Bernie or Isaac would rush to the spot. She imagined the others merely humoring him, as he had no real authority. If it came down to it, they’d put him in his place in a heartbeat. She prayed for it.
Idiot, she thought.
“You should talk to him,” suggested Nisha, who had crept up beside her. Isabelle was too deep in thought to notice.
“What is there to say that I haven’t been repeating for weeks? I’m half-tempted to wait for everyone to go to bed and take Tommy to one of the shelters. Washington’s suburbs didn’t look so bad. You should come with,” Isabelle suggested.
“Isabelle, no. I absolutely do not want to leave the group,” replied Nisha sternly. “Talk to your husband, Isabelle. If you’re up for it, first thing in the morning I’ll sit down with the two of you and mediate.”
“If I cared enough to speak with him, sure. Maybe some other time. I’m just over it. All of it.” Isabelle scanned the group marching back and forth from the parked caravan to the cabin like so many ants. Pointless, all of it. She left Nisha standing alone to check up on her son. Obviously his father couldn’t be bothered.
Tobias and Miller discussed a map unfolded on the hood of a car. Their destination was circled. Their current location, or at least where they thought they were, was marked with an X.
“I don’t think a few days here would mean the end of the world,” Tobias suggested. “After that, barring any unforeseen bullshit, we could feasibly be in marina country in, what, five days, give or take?”
“I’m inclined to agree. This place is secluded enough, and I think if we pile up some brush across the driveway down the hill a little, anyone driving by wouldn’t be the wiser.”
“I think a few nights in the woods will be good for morale, like a camping trip.” Tobias slapped Miller on the back.
“Yeah.” Miller grinned. “A camping trip from hell.”
Aiko jogged up, sporting a wide smile and a dripping-wet bottle of water in hand.
“We found a hand pump for a well, sir, and believe it or not, the thing works!” she said excitedly. “We’ve got them filling containers now. They’re piling up pretty quick over there, too.”
“It’s about time something went our way. In the morning, take a few of the civilians with Marisol or Seth and head back to the store we passed. Collect every container you can carry. By the time we leave here, water shouldn’t be an issue, at least for a while, anyway.”
“I would still recommend boiling it first. We have no way of knowing if the well has been contaminated,” Aiko suggested. “One of those things rotting into the water table could feasibly infect all of us.”
Markus approached, lugging two overflowing containers of water. “You want these inside the cabin? Is there anywhere in there that’s out of the way to store them?”
“There’s a small wine cellar under the cabin, or it could have been storage for food. Maybe the previous occupants were canners. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. It’s empty and cold as shit,” Aiko said. “Steps down are right next to the kitchen. You can’t miss it.”
“Sounds perfect,” Markus replied, turning for the cabin.
“Put the water in Bernie’s truck, Markus.” Miller shot an uneasy glance to the darkened forest beyond.
“Sir?” Markus dropped the water again.
“Just as a precaution, if we need to leave in a hurry, I’d hate to lose all this water.”
Markus did as he was directed.
“You okay, Miller?” Aiko touched his shoulder. “You should probably try to relax, get a good night’s sleep while you can.”
“I’m not
sure. Something doesn’t feel right about this place. It seems too perfect, you know? I’m half-tempted to pack up camp and get back on the road now, dark or not.”
“We can do that, sir. I’ll have these people Oscar Mike in ten. Just say the word.”
“No, not now, Aiko. It’s probably nothing. Just paranoid is all. Keep your eyes open all the same, though.”
Bernie lit a fire beneath a large cauldron held aloft by a spit, another amenity the cabin offered. Nisha and Elliot took turns stirring its contents. Filthy road-worn clothes cooked in the stew, boiling away accumulated grime from nearly two weeks on the road. Save for the occasional sanitized wipe or damp cloth, the Pepperbush survivors experienced nothing resembling a bath since fleeing their homes. Hot steaming rags with a dash of soap never felt so good. A portion of the bathers scurried off to the side, keeping their modesty bathed in shadow. Others harbored no such qualms, cleansing themselves by the flickering firelight.
Hours passed inside the cabin. Most were settling in for the night or already sleeping. A calm swept the group, not a word of their trials spoken. A few remained active. Some poked around the cabin’s interior, checking and rechecking empty cabinets. Maybe they had missed that vital item on their first pass.
Thump. The lid of an oversized ice chest slammed shut.
“You’re an idiot if you thought there’d be food in there,” Radzinski said.
“No shit. Had to check, though.” Rachel shrugged. “You know, I half-expected this thing to be full of dead bodies.”
Radzinski lifted the lid for a peek inside. “Three or four could fit, easy.”
Rachel hopped in and lay flat on the bottom. Neither her head nor feet touching the cooler’s sides, she raised an arm enough to just barely finger the box’s lip. “What, are you blind? Eight, all day.”
Those who wanted to bathed. Damp clothes were strewn about the cabin on makeshift lines or draped across the hoods and trunks of the vehicles out front, their owners wrapped in sheets or towels. For most, the flight from Pepperbush didn’t afford them time to gather supplies on their way out, including fresh changes of clothing.
Part of the group opted to head straight for bed, forgoing a soak of their clothes or even a quick rinse of their bodies. The ex-mayor was one of those, as he would rather remain dirty than undress and debase himself in front of his inferiors. There would be time down the road in private to address such matters.
“If you still smell that bad when we leave here, you’re riding with someone else,” Marisol said, securing her towel firmly in place before lying down for the night.
“The lot of you may have left your modesty back in Pepperbush, but I for one—” Lancaster started.
“Save it,” Marisol said, eyes closed. “No one cares.”
“Dusty can sleep in the basement, Tommy,” Tobias instructed adamantly.
“But, Dad…” the boy pleaded.
“I’m sorry, son, but we can’t risk his barking attracting those things,” Tobias insisted. “He’s been acting up all day. He’ll be fine.”
“That’s not fair!” Tommy shouted.
“I said he stays downstairs. Now that’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more about this! Put him in the basement and get ready for bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“We always have a long day tomorrow.” Tommy took his dog and stormed off into the basement, slamming the door behind him.
“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?” asked Lillian.
“I know. I’ll talk to him in the morning. I’m just tired. On edge, I guess.”
“We all are, Dad. Come on, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
Tommy returned and promptly tucked himself in without a word for his father. Tobias wrapped himself up in a blanket opposite Vanessa; his children between them. He lay there, longing for his wife, who was across the room, asleep beside Nisha, Bernie, and the pregnant one.
What was her name again? he thought. Tobias still didn’t know everyone in the group by name, another issue requiring his full attention. A good night’s rest was what they all needed. Everything else could wait until morning.
• • •
Radzinski and Seth were on watch. Occasionally they talked out by the vehicles. Dawn was only an hour off. During their shift, they circled the cabin in opposite directions, crossing paths out by the driveway. Every ten or so passes when they met, they would chat for a few moments before continuing on. The cabin was silent and black. Even Miller and his unit were fast asleep in the relative comfort of the temporary abode. Soraya had nestled in beside Miller. Half-asleep, he pulled her close. She took his hand in hers, interwove their fingers, and pulled his arm tightly around her.
A rear window near the cellar door shattered the silence. A Molotov cocktail broke on the floor, showering the room with fire. Within seconds, curtains, furniture, and half of the cabin’s interior were engulfed in flames. A second bottle smashed against the back door. Then a third fiery projectile barreled its way through a side window.
Soraya slept with one eye open. She had since she joined up with Miller’s unit back in Philadelphia. She was on her feet in a flash, dragging Miller up with her. “Fire, fire! Everyone out!” Her warning roused the few survivors not already on their feet or out of the building.
The group made a mad dash for the front door. In their haste, they left behind mostly everything but the clothes on their backs, if they were wearing any at all. Most inside had taken advantage of a good wash, their clothes strewn about camp, hanging to dry. Out in the driveway, a few stood, dumbstruck, down by the vehicles or were left wandering around still half-asleep. Only Radzinski and Seth were at full attention as protection from unseen attackers.
Marisol burst from the cabin, weapon drawn and pulling a chain of survivors locked hand in hand behind her. She pushed them out into the clean air. Samantha was followed by Lillian, Vanessa, and Markus.
“Did anyone see anything?” Marisol yelled, all the while guiding more people from the smoke.
Sam emerged from the darkness, helping along Nisha, who twisted her ankle in the confusion. “Here, take this!” Sam offered his rifle to Marisol so he could better assist Nisha down the stairs and away from the cabin.
Marisol aimed the rifle’s scope into the darkness and scanned up and down the perimeter. Nothing.
A cacophony of coughing and gasps for air threatened to drown out the crackle of the growing blaze. The group spread out in the dirt-covered lot, leaning against vehicles or bent over hands on knees for support.
Ryan lay on his back on the cool ground, gasping for air. Rachel paused for a second as she knelt beside him. He was fine, took in too much smoke. “Twelve, thirteen,” she whispered. It was nearly impossible to get a proper headcount in all the confusion. Rachel stood back up, already on the move. She whistled for Radzinski’s attention and pointed to the back of the cabin.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Damon asked.
“Most likely a careless cigarette smoker, I’d imagine,” Lancaster suggested.
“Oh, don’t start your shit. You don’t know that,” Marisol replied. She stood at arm’s length from Lancaster, barefoot and mostly naked save for a brown tank top and a towel haphazardly wrapped around her waist. Instinct took over when she awoke to the chaos. Getting as many as possible to safety took precedence over modesty. She wasn’t the only one at a disadvantage clothing-wise, as others scrambled for still-damp clothes drying in the cool night air.
Bernie stood as naked as the day he was born, save for a pair of cowboy boots and a rifle draped over his shoulder, his trucker’s cap firmly in place. “It was a bottle of gas,” he said.
“Bullshit,” Damon replied.
“Like hell. It flew through the window right above me. I was awake the whole damn time,” Bernie insisted.
“Who would do something like that?” Samantha asked.
“We don’t know what’s going on yet,” Ayn said.
“No, I saw it
, too!” Casandra was panicked. “It came through one of the back windows and blew up on the floor. Lit the place up like the Fourth of July!”
“See, I know what I saw,” Bernie insisted.
“Where the fuck are your pants, man?” Damon shook his head.
“In there.” Bernie spat toward the flaming cabin. “And that’s my favorite pair of jeans, by the way. Why? You wanna go get ’em for me?”
Damon ignored the comment, preoccupied with the situation at hand. “Goddammit, half of our shit’s in there. Food, clothes. Fuck.”
“Not now, man. We’ve got more important shit to worry about,” Markus suggested.
“Like what?” Damon asked, irate.
“Like making sure everyone’s okay, for one,” Samantha added.
“How could I forget? Screw our stuff. Samantha needs to save the world first,” Damon replied.
“Aiko, give me a headcount,” Miller ordered. “Make sure everyone made it out. Soraya, Radzinski, Rachel, you’re with me on perimeter search. Marisol, Seth, Isaac, secure the vehicles. The last thing we need is for whoever is responsible for this taking off with what little supplies we have left.”
“Seth and I just got back, man… sir. There’s nothing out there. Not a footprint. Nothing,” Radzinski said.
“Whoever did this never left the tree line,” Rachel added, out of breath. “We’re not going to find them in the dark like this.”
“Sir, someone really should keep an eye on the civilians,” Aiko suggested. “We don’t need anyone going off half-cocked and there could be injuries, so…”
“Go!” Miller pointed to the huddled masses. “At first light, we find this fucker,” he said through clenched teeth. “In the meantime, I want eyes on every corner of this property until we’re Oscar Mike. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” his unit replied enthusiastically.
“Utilize the police and stay in eye contact. No one goes anywhere alone. We don’t know how many of them are out there or what their intentions are.”
“I think it’s pretty clear they want us gone,” Radzinski added.
“They’re more than welcome to try,” Miller replied.
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 9