We Won't Go Quietly: A Family's Struggle to Survive in a World Devolved (Book Three of the What's Left of My World Series)

by C. A. Rudolph

  Peter returned the grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Michelle. You know…I’ve always thought of myself as a walking, talking Swiss Army knife—only with a more charming personality, better hair, and a more shapely backside.”

  Alex giggled and took a few steps backward, her hand covering her mouth.

  “Nice,” Michelle said, fighting the urge to laugh.

  A sly grin slid across Peter’s face. “It is nice, actually. Seriously though, don’t worry over this—I got it covered. It’ll probably wind up looking like shit, but I promise it will be functional when it’s all said and done.”

  “Then comes the hard part,” Michelle added. “Getting the plants growing again.”

  Michelle and Alex bid adieu to Peter, allowing him to return to work just as Kim Mason and Whitney Schmidt walked over. The two had been working together since the skirmish to help the Taylors clean up the mess and inventory supplies.

  After an exchange of greetings, Michelle handed Kim her notepad.

  Kim pulled off her gardening gloves, her ever-present smile fading away as she flipped the pages. “This doesn’t look all that bad,” Kim said, her voice resonating her pastoral drawl.

  Michelle lifted a brow. “I’ve never known you to be a very good liar, Kim.”

  Whitney reached for the notepad and studied it a moment before handing it back to Kim. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s not much. But it’s a hell of a lot more than we have. Excuse me—had.”

  “We’re all in the same boat, I’m afraid,” Kim lamented. “Peter and Amy brought their list by this morning. After giving it a once-over, I honestly have no idea what they’ve been feeding those boys. They don’t have much left, either. I can’t believe they never said anything.”

  “They must have been thinking the same as we were,” Michelle said. “The Taylors’ farm was our answer. It was going to support us all for the long haul.”

  Whitney turned her head away. “Yeah—and so much for that. The best-laid plans of mice and men.”

  Kim motioned for the ladies to come closer and lowered her voice to above a whisper. “Fred has sworn me to secrecy about this, so please, let’s keep it amongst ourselves. He told me Bo Brady approached him while they were cleaning the mess up near the Brady’s farm after the attack a few days ago…says he knows of a place not far away where a gigantic supply of food is stored, and he thinks it’s still there, for some reason or another.”

  Alex pushed her head impulsively into the huddle to feel more involved while Michelle and Whitney conveyed looks of interest coupled with mild disbelief.

  Kim continued. “Before the day, Bo was a stock manager at Pilgrim’s Pride over in Moorefield where they process chickens for prepared meals and the like. Evidently, they have an underground warehouse of some kind, the size of two football fields or more. He says it was used to store product for big grocery conglomerates, but they also held government contracts for ready-to-eat meals and emergency food rations.” She paused. “He’s been on Fred’s case about taking a drive there, but Fred won’t hear of it—says a journey like that is far from straightforward, demands an armed convoy and weeks of preparation. Fred thinks it’s just too dangerous outside the wire.”

  “You mean outside the valley,” Michelle said.

  Kim smiled faintly. “Sure. But to Fred, anywhere outside the valley is a combat zone.”

  “Far be it from me to ever cast doubt on your husband, Kim,” said Whitney. “But it hasn’t exactly been benign inside the valley.”

  Kim smiled graciously and nodded. “No doubt about it. I suppose it’s best for us to concentrate on what matters most anyhow—getting back on our feet again.”

  “Regardless, we shouldn’t be too quick to disregard the offer,” Michelle said. “If what Bo says is true, it would be a godsend for all of us.”

  “Oh, I am well aware,” Kim agreed. “Even if half of what he’s claiming is there, why, it would be like winning the lottery for us all, now. Trying to get Fred to understand that is going to take some doing, but I’m up to the task. He has a tendency to be…a party pooper, on occasion.” She elbowed Whitney playfully. “Either way, I have a feeling it’s going to be a harder-than-usual winter for all of us.”

  Whitney nodded. “It most definitely is.”

  “I still believe this is the best plan for now—pooling our resources together, that is,” Kim said. “All of us in some way have been relying on what Sarah and Bryan used to have here. With it gone, the situation is more dire than ever.”

  “I agree with your plan, Kim,” said Michelle. “I think we’ve reached a turning point. It’s going to take a full-on community effort to get us all through winter.” Michelle paused, turning to look down the driveway at the road. “I still need to make a trip to the Ackermann farm, to see if they had anything left in their pantry. I doubt there’s much. I’m hoping the beef he preserved after slaughtering the last of his Herefords is still hanging.”

  Kim nodded. “It’s only been a bit over a week. It’s probably still in good shape, but don’t wait too long. Don’t want to chance wasting it. If you need help, you know who to call.”

  Whitney scowled, gesturing helplessly to the remains of the Taylors’ farm, now devoid of roaming livestock, their once-flourishing gardens having been reduced to mounds of spoiled vegetation. “Ladies, I stand by this plan, too. Lord knows, I don’t have much ground to stand on, being part of the family with the least to offer. But from my point of view, having a hard winter isn’t only an underestimation—it’s more like a foregone conclusion. This month has been absolute hell on us. Between the first attack, the fire, and this one doing irreparable damage to our food sources and plans for the future, I’m having a hard time thinking about anything other than what’s coming for us next.”

  Michelle nodded and looked to the sky. “Snow, I’d imagine.”

  Whitney rolled her eyes. “Great. Something else to look forward to. As if things couldn’t be any worse already.”

  “Come now, Whitney,” Kim said, her smile returning. “Mother Nature is docile and much more forgiving than anything else we’ve bumped into lately.”

  “Oh? How do you figure?”

  Kim leaned in, bumping Whitney’s shoulder with her own. “Well, she can’t exactly shoot at you with a gun.”

  Michelle snickered. “She’s got a point, Whit.”

  “Okay, sure. Mother Nature can’t hold a gun. But she does have a tendency to dump metric tons of frigid white bull crap on us,” Whitney griped. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but after all we’ve been through lately, I just wish I had a couple of get-out-of-jail-free cards, or some time off. Or even a vacation. In Fiji. Something—anything other than this revelatory existence our lives have turned into.”

  Kim stuffed Michelle’s notepad into her back pocket and began sliding her gloves back on. “Michelle, I’ll add yours to the pile of others, and we’ll compile everything at the church next Sunday.”

  “We’ll be there,” Michelle said. “By the way, how’s Kristen doing? Has anyone seen much of her?”

  Kim peered around to make certain no one else was within hearing range. “The same, I’m afraid. Beaten. Heartbroken. Practically inconsolable.”

  “I think you forgot incorporeal and catatonic,” Whitney quipped.

  “She’s been spending all her time moving her things into the little cabin down the road,” Kim said. “The boys helped her with all the heavy stuff, but she told them not to bother anymore after that chore was through. She spends too much time alone now. Only comes around every so often—she even came back to the house and took all the medical supplies away, you know, the stuff she brought over before the fight. Did it just like that, without a word. I don’t know, I’m worried sick about her.”

  Whitney postured herself and heaved a sigh. “She needs to snap out of it.”

  “Whitney…” Kim trailed off, looking crossly at her.

  “I’m sorry—but if something like t
hat happened to me, I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life wallowing. If I lost Scott, sure—I’d be devastated at first. But I’d gather up and move on with life. I wouldn’t give myself a choice. I wouldn’t use it as a means to destroy myself.”

  Michelle bit her lip before speaking. “We all find closure in our own way, Whitney. Those of us who can find it, anyway.”

  “I’m just saying—it would be different for me. A lot different. I’m not weak like her,” Whitney stated.

  Michelle hesitated, her temper beginning to rise. “You know—you might try putting yourself in someone else’s shoes for a second. Imagine, just imagine, if you somehow lost your husband—you lost Scott—and you had no way of knowing what happened to him…and you didn’t even know if he was still alive. Imagine how your kids would feel, wondering where he was, looking for him to come home each day, never knowing if he would or not. Imagine living with that every day you wake up alone in your bed.”

  The expressions on both Kim’s and Whitney’s faces softened as the discomfort became visible in Michelle’s eyes, knowing full well she spoke from experience.

  Whitney shuffled and lowered her gaze, reaching out first. “Shit. I’m sorry, Michelle—I’m really sorry. That was way inappropriate.”

  Michelle nodded her head slightly as thoughts of her husband, long since lost, came into being. “That’s…okay.”

  Whitney swallowed hard. “I guess I’m just a little on edge. Everything is just hitting us all so hard these days.”

  Kim put her arms around the women’s waists and pulled them close. “Ladies—I think we’re all a little on edge. Let’s not dwell on it right now, though. I need your all’s help—we gotta figure out a way to convince my husband to go for a drive.”

  Chapter 6

  Michelle and Alex bid their farewells, made a U-turn, and directed the Honda Rancher ATV swiftly along the Taylors’ gravel driveway toward the Trout Run Road.

  Reaching the intersection, Michelle twisted hard on the throttle while making a sharper-than-usual left turn, nearly colliding head-on with another machine. Fred Mason slammed on his ATV’s brakes and turned into the roadside drainage ditch, narrowly avoiding the accident.

  Michelle shut off her engine and hopped from her machine in a panic, hustling over to where Fred had already escaped the wreckage and was now standing at the edge of the drive overlooking the scene, his brow furrowed and his hand to his chin. What had once been a strapped-down, assorted load of various building materials had broken free and was now scattered about in a chaotic mass in and around the ditch.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Fred,” Michelle said. “I didn’t even see you coming. Are you okay?”

  Fred huffed. “I’m squared away, but that load is definitely FUBAR. You mind telling me what’s got the two of you in such a hurry?”

  Michelle began helping Fred retrieve the items that had fallen from his ride. “I’m not in a hurry at all. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I see. Next time, perform an azimuth check before wandering off course. You headed somewhere special?”

  Michelle gestured to Alex, who had already arrived to offer her assistance. “Today’s the day I promised Alex we would take her home. We’ll be saying goodbye to her soon—I’m really going to hate to see her go.”

  Alex smiled but said nothing as she went to hand off two long, splintery four-by-four posts to Fred, appearing not affected in the least by their weight. Fred dimly smiled to her and pointed to his feet, hoping Alex would realize the need to upright his vehicle before he could restack and resecure his load.

  “Is that so?” Fred said, watching the teenage girl manhandle the lumber. “Just you two, then? Who else is going along?”

  “Well, no one, I suppose,” Michelle replied. “From what Alex told me, it’s not that far away.”

  “Distance is irrelevant, Michelle. From what she said the other day, I have a roundabout idea of the grid coordinates. Any way you view it, it’s outside our theater of operations.”

  Alex looked confused. “Theater of…operations?”

  Fred nodded to her. “Yes, ma’am. Where exactly do you live, Alex—specifically?”

  Alex’s brow lowered. She looked to the sky and then pointed off into the woods to the north. “Thorny Bottom. We live in the valley just below the ridge. I think.”

  “Say again?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” said Alex, shuffling her feet.

  “Fred, do you really have to treat this like a military transport operation?” Michelle asked.

  “Damn right we do,” he replied. “Look, Michelle. This ain’t my first rodeo. We have to stay on constant alert for other threats—which still exist, by the way. We have to stay focused and vigilant. This is far from being over.”

  “Fred—”

  Fred drew up a hand and snapped his fingers, his abruptness halting Michelle’s reply. “Let’s not forget what Megan and Lauren found when they went on that little expedition together that almost got them killed. There’s a bunch of unknowns out there, camped just a few hills from here at Trout Pond. As the crow flies, Trout Pond isn’t far from Thorny Bottom. For all we know, those folks could be the ones responsible for the random attacks we’ve seen since last summer.” He pointed at Alex. “They could also be the ones who took her from her family. If that’s the case, they could just as easily take her again, and they can take you, too, Michelle.”

  Michelle shuddered and nodded her approval of Fred’s logic while Alex looked concerned. “You’re right, Fred. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It’s not a problem—definitely nothing to apologize over,” Fred said. “I dwell on these thoughts eternally; I surely don’t expect you to. But after all we’ve been through, we cannot afford to take chances. So let’s plan on taking her home another day after we lay out a tactically sound proposal to get her there and return safely.”

  Alex crossed her arms over her chest, her brows knitted. “Michelle? I thought that—”

  “I know, Alex. I know.”

  “You know what?” pestered Fred, his command voice regaining its normal depth.

  Michelle turned to Fred and lowered her gaze. “I promised her I would take her home—today, Fred.”

  Fred jumped on his ATV, preparing to start it and maneuver it from the ditch. “And?”

  “And nothing,” Michelle spat. “Other than the fact I promised her. And she’s been looking forward to it.”

  Fred sighed. He took his hands off the handlebars, sat back on the ATV’s off-kilter seat, and squinted at Michelle, who revisited his daunting stare with one of her own—one with an equal, if not exceeding level of grit.

  Fred looked away, feeling outfaced by his old friend’s spouse. He turned his attention to Alex, whose once shimmering eyes were welling up, glistening with tears. He shook his head. “God…dammit. All right…all right. Message received. We can do it today, then. I guess.”

  Alex’s eyes went wide, and she clapped her hands together, jumping up and down. “Yay! Thank you, Mr. Fred!”

  “You’re welcome. And…just call me Fred, please. And for heaven’s sake, dry up those damn tears.”

  Sometime later, Michelle and Alex, accompanied by a last-minute security detail Fred had assembled, comprised of himself, Norman, and Norman’s eldest son Lee, departed the confines of the valley en route to Alex’s home, allegedly situated in a vastly remote location of the George Washington National Forest.

  About a half mile after taking the turn from Trout Run Road onto Thorne Bottom Road, Alex tapped Michelle’s shoulder, pointing to a barely visible gravel lane meandering off into the thicket. “I think it’s that way.”

  Michelle slowed the ATV to a stop. “You think?”

  Alex nodded. “Yeah. It looks familiar to me. Kind of.”

  “You’re not giving us much to go on, Alex,” Michelle said. “But I guess that’s to be expected after what you told me.” Michelle peered through the low-hanging tree
limbs. The road wound left, changed over to dirt and gravel, and seemed to vanish into the woods after the turn. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

  Fred pulled his ATV alongside. “Ladies, are we stopping for a pee break? What’s the malfunction?”

  Alex smiled and pointed. “It’s that way.”

  Fred’s eyes followed Alex’s finger into the hollow. He pursed his lips. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He unshouldered his M1A with a grimace and motioned to his aft for Norman and Lee to ready themselves.

  “Are you starting to get one of your bad feelings again, Fred?” Norman called from behind, edging his Honda closer.

  “Starting?” Fred grumbled. “I’ve had a lingering bad feeling since the fun started at Wolf Gap weeks ago—and this little jaunt today isn’t helping.” He press checked his rifle. “You guys know the drill—keep your eyes to the trees. And for the record, Norman, same as I said before on our lovely trip to the barricade, I still don’t like this shit.”

  The group pulled onto the gravel path and continued for a few miles as the trees grew loftier and the forest became denser. The path gradually contracted, soon transforming into two paths of rarely travelled, unruly grass about a wheelbase width apart.

  The wagon trail gradually gained elevation, opened up into a small clearing, and seconds after passing a small body of water to the left, Michelle felt Alex tap her on the shoulder again.

  “We’re here,” Alex said.

  “We are?” Michelle stopped her ATV and studied the area, unable to see anything indicating a home was nearby, not even a driveway. She even caught herself searching for a mailbox before realizing there was a high probability Alex’s family didn’t own one.

  Alex leisurely hopped down from the seat. “Yep. This is it. This is where I live.” She pointed at the muddy, biofilm-coated body of turbid water nearby. “That’s our pond, I’d know it anywhere.”

  Michelle nodded slightly and shut down her engine. “Oh. Okay,” she said, and whispered to herself, “How could you not…”

  After motioning for Lee to hang back and instructing Norman to ride in a few yards farther, Fred shut off his ATV, dismounted, and marched over to Alex. “So this is home for you, Alex? No offense, but it looks like the middle of nowhereville to me.”