Band of Preppers (Book 2): Life is Hope

by Chad Evercroft

  Amy went willingly with Megan, or as willingly as someone threatened with a pen to the throat could be. She remained calm the whole time, listening to Megan’s breathy apologies and explanations. When Megan stopped talking, tears pricking her eyes, Amy looked her right in the face.

  “I’ll go,” she said. “You don’t need the pen.”

  “I can’t risk it,” Megan countered. “Your husband is right out there. Go see if he’s asleep.”

  Megan’s arm crooked around Amy’s neck, the two women crept out of the bedroom. Amy peered around the corner and nodded, signaling that Derek was asleep. She pointed to the left, indicating they should go out that way.

  “The bag,” Megan mouthed. “Get the bag.”

  They returned to the bedroom briefly and Amy grabbed her bag. Megan cast one last look at Britney, refusing to let herself get emotional just yet. They weren’t out of trouble. So much could still go wrong.

  The group was closer to the village, ready for battle. Shaking from nerves and the cold, Megan pushed Amy into their midst. She had anticipated Sarah’s furious expression, but was unmoved.

  “She’s a nurse,” Megan declared. “Thought she might be useful.”

  “Where’s the baby?” Sarah asked, her fury fading slightly.

  “Back at the village. I couldn’t take both.”

  “Hmm,” Sarah murmured, an almost bitter look crossing her face. “Look who got tough.”

  “You people don’t have to do this,” Amy said, having scrambled to her feet shortly after being pushed.

  She stood in the center of the group, looking helpless in the face of so many guns. As a response, Sarah stepped forward and coolly struck Amy in the face with the butt of her handgun. Megan resisted her urge to wince, and instead just looked straight at Sarah.

  “Yes, we do,” Sarah said in reply to Amy. “Now shut up.”

  Most of the group went ahead to storm the barricade, leaving Sarah, Wendy, Amy, and Megan behind at the fire. Amy’s face darkened due to a bruise, but she remained calm. Sarah paced around for a while, looking through the woods, muttering to herself, and constantly checking the ammo in her gun.

  “You’re positive there are no infections?” Sarah asked, probably for the fourth time.

  “Positive,” Megan replied.

  “No one’s sick,” Amy agreed.

  Sarah squinted at the two women, as if she were trying to read their minds. Megan’s fingers were cramping from cold, but she didn’t dare make the sudden movement and outstretching her hands to the fire.

  “Relax, Sarah,” Wendy said, exasperated. “Why would they lie about that?”

  “To draw us into an infected zone,” Sarah snapped. “Get us all exposed.”

  Wendy rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Sarah glared at her. Megan felt uneasy, expecting Sarah to flare into a rage, but instead, Sarah just crouched down by the fire. Megan didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was somehow both accelerated and slowed down at the same time. Megan and Amy got a moment alone when Amy had to go the bathroom. Sarah gave Megan a gun, somewhat reluctantly, and they went out a little ways into the woods. The gun felt cold and heavy in Megan’s hand, like a piece of ice burning into her skin.

  “If this all goes bad, let me know you’re on my side,” Amy whispered hoarsely from behind a tree. “I know you’re not like them. You didn’t have a choice.”

  “I’m on your side,” Megan whispered back, her heart pounding.

  They returned to the fire and sat in silence, just waiting for...something. They didn’t know what, but the air was full of the sounds of gunshots and shouts. It was only a matter of time before the situation deteriorated completely. Megan hadn’t seen how many were in the village, but if they were all as prepared as Buckle was, she was sure they would be able to easily defend themselves. How many people would have to die before it was all over? At least one of Sarah’s group, Tanner, had given up and come leaping over the fire before disappearing into the woods. When the barricade went up in flames, all four women stood and watched the flames linger into the night sky. Sarah gritted her teeth and took in a sharp breath. Kirk was still out there. Sarah vented her fear towards Amy and, turning towards her, jabbed her with her AK-47 until Amy sat back down. Shouts erupted from the darkness and the men came running back, wounded and terrified.

  “Make way!” Bruce shouted, holding up a bleeding body in his huge arms.

  “Oh my god!” Sarah cried.

  It was Kirk. He had been shot in the chest and looked to have lost quite a bit of blood already. He was gasping for breath. Sarah twisted around to Amy and screamed for help.

  “The bag!” Wendy said, her voice shaking.

  She and Megan looked at each other, as if contemplating a run for it. Sarah threw open the bag, tossing random supplies at Amy.

  “Do something!”

  “Stay close to me,” Amy whispered to Megan. “Help me.”

  Kirk choked, blood spurting from his mouth. His eyes looked glassy, as if he was drifting away. Megan had seen that look before. It had been in Blake’s eyes, when they were still open, and in the eyes of the man Sarah had shot in the store. He was dying.

  “Hurry up!” Sarah said to Amy.

  More people had come running back, all talking at once, shouting about the barricade. It smelled like gunpowder and sweat. Sarah leaned over Megan and Amy, her finger on the trigger of her gun.

  “You’re not going to let him die, are you?” Sarah cried. “I’ll kill you if he dies!”

  She would. She would kill everyone if Kirk died. Amy couldn’t stop the bleeding. Veins bulged out of his neck. Blood had soaked her hands and the ground. Kirk had been gripping Amy’s arm, as if trying to pull himself back up into consciousness, but it loosened. His eyes rolled back up into his head.

  “Stay with me,” Amy said. “You’re gonna make it.”

  From the corner of her eye, Megan saw a sudden movement. Before she could look, a voice broke out above the others.

  “Don’t move!”

  It was Derek. He had Tanner by the collar and a gun to his head. Everyone stared at him, unsure about how to react. Megan looked to Sarah, the only one who had her gun out.

  Don’t be an idiot, Sarah, Megan thought.

  Derek’s bullet hit Sarah before she had time to pull the trigger. His gun was powerful and the force sent Sarah flying backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thump.

  “Anyone else?” Derek asked, as if he was in an action movie.

  He had blood running from his ear. He cut a terrifying figure standing there gripping Tanner, dressed only in a white T-shirt, gun smoking. Kirk choked again, redirecting Megan’s attention. More blood spouted from his mouth. His hand fell from Amy’s wrist.

  “He’s gone,” Amy said quietly, glancing at Megan.

  To Megan’s shock, Bruce reacted first. He began to howl and, tears streaming down his face, grabbed for his gun. Derek was faster and blocked the bullet with Tanner. The young man was caught completely off-guard and gasped. Megan turned away. She didn’t want to see any more eyes welling up with death. At least not tonight. Bullets erupted and in the chaos, Amy grabbed Megan’s arm and pulled her away from the fire. Megan followed, lead whizzing above her head like deadly insects. They crawled through the snow, their knees and hands scraping in the ice, dirt, and broken branches. Gunshots and shouting continued behind them and when Megan felt safe enough, she stood. Amy followed suit and they ran.

  “This way, towards the wall!” Amy said, grabbing Megan’s hand and pointing with the other.

  In the cluster of trees, Megan lost hold of Amy’s hand. The next few minutes lost in darkness and panic. Megan became separated from Amy and found herself in a field. Derek was calling Amy’s name. He was close. Would he try to shoot Megan? Why wouldn’t he? She kidnapped his wife. Megan took her gun from its holster, her hands shaking. If she shot him, she would be putting this village behind her and leaving Britney to their mercy. Where would she go? How long coul
d she expect to survive? The sound of a gun clicking compelled Megan to think it wouldn’t be very long.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  It was Amy’s voice. From that moment on, Megan owed Amy her life, and would have gladly given it at a moment’s notice. When Amy needed Megan to help her when the village became infected, Megan didn’t give refusal a moment’s thought.

  4.

  The frantic knocking came at about 2am. Derek took note of the time only because the battery-operated clock was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Barely awake, he nudged Amy with his elbow before getting up.

  “Ams,” he slurred. “Knocking.”

  “Huh?”

  “Someone’s at the door.”

  Megan was already in the hall, bouncing Britney in her arms. The baby was whimpering, grumpy about being awoken. She stared at Derek and Amy, the corners of her mouth turned down in an almost cartoonish way. Buckle and Adam were in the living room and after glancing at Derek, Buckle answered the door. Cold air swept in, prickling everyone’s skin like tiny blades. Pat stood in the doorway, barely dressed, with a racoon-skin hat thrust crookedly on his head.

  “Pat!” Buckle cried.

  Before he could say anything else, Pat interrupted, cracking his knuckles with anxiety.

  “Kara is real sick,” he said. “She’s been hurling since midnight and I’m real worried.”

  He looked at Amy hopefully, who was standing a little ways behind Buckle.

  “We’d really appreciate any help.” Pat pleaded.

  Buckle looked back at Amy. She looked back as if to say, “Don’t you dare,” and returned to the bedroom for her supplies. Buckle asked if Pat wanted to come in, but he was already hurrying back to his house to tend to his ill wife. Buckle closed the door and shook his shoulders dramatically in a faux shudder.

  “Cold,” he muttered.

  “Can I help?” Megan called to Amy.

  “Better not,” Amy replied, emerging with a small duffle back. “We don’t want to risk anyone else getting sick, especially with the baby.”

  Amy opened the duffel to double check her inventory. Satisfied, she took out two surgical masks.

  “Derek, can you come with me? I might need a hand with some things.”

  “Sure.”

  “We need to wear these.”

  Amy tossed him a mask before putting one on herself. Derek glanced at Adam, who was beginning to look worried.

  “Is it serious?” Adam asked his mother.

  “I don’t know. Probably a flu, but if it isn’t treated, she could get dehydrated.”

  “What’s with the masks?”

  “In case of airborne viruses,” Amy replied, her voice muffled. “Can’t be too careful.”

  Buckle brought Derek and Amy their coats and saw them out the door.

  “Good luck,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Amy said briskly.

  She was already in full nurse mode. Derek jogged beside her as they hurried to Pat and Kara’s house. It only took about two minutes to get there, but already Derek’s hands felt numb from the cold. Amy went right to the bedroom where Kara was. Derek could hear anxious voices and retching, making his stomach curl. It was a horrible, painful sound. His mask felt moist from his breath, which didn’t help. He wanted to pull it off and get a gulp of fresh air, but he kept his hands at his sides. Pat entered from the bedroom, his face pink and sweaty. He managed a nod at Derek before he threw himself in a chair and stared at the lit fireplace. Each time Kara made a sound, Pat cringed as if he had been sharply pinched.

  “She was fine earlier,” Pat said. “Not even a stomach ache. Made dinner and everything. Didn’t each much, but you know.”

  Derek did not know, but he sat down without a word and let Pat continue.

  “Trying to think about how she’s been before. Been complaining a little about being sore, but we’re all a little worn from chopping wood and stuff. Wasn’t unusual.”

  “Have you guys done or eaten anything different recently?” Derek asked.

  “Nah...well...some of that fresh venison me and Fred caught. That was last week though, and me and Fred are fine. Maybe she’s sensitive or something, I dunno. That was last week though.”

  Pat frowned and cracked his knuckles again. Glancing towards the bedroom door, Derek saw Amy beckoning to him. He rose.

  “What’s up?” he said, lowering his voice.

  “We need garbage bags. Thick ones. For the vomit.”

  Amy needn’t have clarified, as the heavy, hot smell revealed the need to Derek even through his mask. He nodded and asked Pat about bags. Glad to have something to do, Pat rummaged through his supplies for a few minutes before bringing out an unopened box of garbage bags. Derek couldn’t help but notice how significantly less organized Pat was compared to Buckle, and how the bags were regular black bags, as opposed to double-layered toilet waste bags they used. Hopefully Pat’s bags held. Derek went back to Amy, who motioned for him to come in and help her. Derek’s skin crawled, but he mustered his strength. Kara was on her knees in front of the bed, her head bent over a bucket. Amy had to hold her up so she didn’t fall, and Derek noticed just how pale Kara was. Her skin seemed dry, which Derek knew was not a good sign.

  “Does she have water?”

  “Yeah. I put in some Propel powder, too.”

  When Kara paused, Amy quickly switched out the bucket for a trash bag. Fighting his own urge to gag, Derek was about to take the bucket from Amy when she stopped him.

  “Don’t touch that. Put on gloves first.”

  Derek obeyed. He snapped on a pair from Amy’s bag, which was carefully sitting away from Kara and the bed.

  “What are we supposed to do with this?” Derek asked, indicating the bucket.

  “We can’t bury it. Cover it up for now. We’ll probably just have to scrub it out in the snow.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The bags we’ll burn in the incinerator.”

  Kara moaned, her eyes rolling up into her head. Amy turned her attention back and caught Kara before she could fall backward.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Pat asked, still standing in the doorway.

  “It almost looks like food poisoning, but…”

  Amy’s voice trailed off. She glanced at Derek. He could only see her eyes above her mask, but he could tell she was afraid to say what she was thinking.

  “What?” Pat insisted.

  Amy shifted on her heels so she was next to Kara, facing Pat. She held up Kara’s arm, which was disturbingly limp. Derek noticed Amy was now wearing latex gloves.

  “How long has this been here?”

  Pat stepped forward. Derek looked as well, and saw that the inside crook of Kara’s arm was dotted with small, pale-colored spots. Pat panicked. He let out a sharp yell, not quite a scream, and instinctively stepped back. After that, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Derek thought he might just run out the door and stood to catch him, just in case, but Pat was smart enough to know that would accomplish nothing. Instead, he began to pace, his eyes wild with fear, and sobbing, but without any tears.

  “You need to breathe,” Amy instructed him. “Slowly. Derek.”

  Derek took Pat out to the living room again and tried to get him to calm down. Pat started blabbering about allergies and blood pox. Nothing he said made sense, but eventually, he had to stop talking so he could breathe again. Derek got him a mini bottle of vodka he found in the cupboard and after drinking it, Pat seemed to calm down. He sat in somber silence, clutching the little bottle in both his hands so tightly that Derek took it from him out of fear he would shatter it. Kara’s vomiting seemed to be slowing down, but after the spots discovery, it hardly seemed to matter. Now unoccupied, Derek began to wrack his brain for answers. Was it blood pox? How did that even make sense? It didn’t just spontaneously appear in people, and how would Kara have been exposed without anyone knowing? No infected had come by recently. Why wasn’t Pat sick? Would he get sick? Tired and confuse
d, Derek almost dozed for a few minutes, but he was still at heightened attention and his ears strained for Amy’s voice. Eventually, all sounds stopped from the bedroom and Amy left, carrying the trash bag and bucket. Pat jumped up when he saw her.

  “She’s asleep,” Amy said, answering the question before it left Pat’s lips. “I was able to take her temperature finally. She has a fever.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “It’s not great.”

  “And the spots?”

  “They’re on her legs, too.”

  Pat fell back down in his chair and cradled his head in his hands. He began to mutter.

  “Didn’t see them. We’re always wearing warm clothes, no bare skin, I didn’t see ‘em.”

  “It’s not your fault, Pat,” Amy reassured him. “Vomiting is an early symptom.”

  “So it is the pox?” Pat cried, raising his head.

  “Well, there’s not really a way to know for sure, but we should treat it like it is, to be safe.”

  “Oh my God,” Pat groaned.

  Amy would have normally put a hand on Pat’s shoulder, but she just stood with her hands slightly away from her sides. Derek could tell her whole body was tense, like she was afraid moving might cause her to shatter.

  “There will have to be quarantine,” Amy continued. “You, and possibly us, too. We took care with the masks and clothes, but we need to tell the others about this first.”

  Pat’s eyes widened and tensed like a deer in the headlights of a semi truck.

  “They’ll kill her!” he cried. “They’ll kill us both! I touched her! Her vomit got on me!”

  Derek prepared himself yet again to stop Pat from running out the door, but he stood still, his chest heaving.

  “No one is going to kill anyone,” Amy said quietly. “We’re not like that here, Pat. You know that. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Hearing Amy’s calm, authoritative tone helped Pat as he sat down like a child waiting for a teacher’s lesson. Derek listened just as attentively as Amy outlined the plan of action. She kept an extra Walkie-Talkie in her medical bag where they could reach Buckle. He would bring clean clothes and Hazmat suits to the door so Amy and Derek would have something to change into. They would heat up water and take a sponge bath to get off any of Kara’s fluids from their skin before changing. The clothes they were wearing now would be burned, along with the used trash bag. In the meanwhile, Buckle would call an emergency meeting and the village would decide if Amy and Derek had to be quarantined along with Pat and Kara.