“They had to get from wherever they were when everything went to hell to their safe and protected place. How did they do that with one hand over their eyes?”
“Most everyone in there is from town,” Will said. “They didn’t have far to go. Get in the car, drive, and stop for nothing until you get to The Underground.”
Danny snorted. “Still. To run to your truck because four creepers show up? When there are eight men around to fight them?”
Will spoke in a patient voice. “They haven’t had any experience with the dead. Hell, I was like that at first, you were too. We didn’t have a choice, so we learned to deal with them. Those folks haven’t had to learn. They had two designated guys who put down any creeper that got down to the quarry bottom. Until those guys got bit, that was everyone else’s role when one wandered into the quarry- get out of the way and let the trained guys take care of it.”
“Well, that’s going to change,” Danny said with a huff.
“You’d best believe it.”
Will and Jody
* * *
It was a different Judge Tomkins that arrived for his meeting just as the sun slipped below the bluffs. This new judge had been humbled. He had embarrassed himself that afternoon, running and hiding in the truck at the first sign of the dead. He stayed there while the newcomers put the biters down, not in fear but in shame. The death and destruction he witnessed at the lake solved a mystery from months before, one that weighed heavy on his heart. He and Mark had discussed that mystery at length and decided to come clean to Will. It wasn’t a conversation he looked forward to. He thought of his Father often of late, and how disappointed he’d be with some of his son’s decisions and actions since the outbreak occurred. One of his Father’s favorite sayings was ‘do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do’. It was time he applied that aphorism to his own life.
He arrived at the newcomer’s tunnel and stood outside, shuffling his feet and looking everywhere but in the tunnel. He wondered if he’d mistaken the meeting time or place until he heard a woman say something he couldn’t make out. Will’s voice boomed in response.
“Oh Yeah? Fantastic. Jody! Come on in here.”
He stepped into the tunnel, blinking his eyes a few times to adjust to the lantern light. Will was sprawled across on an old, threadbare, neon-orange easy chair. He seemed relaxed, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a thermal undershirt, his long legs crossed and ensconced in a pair of stockings. The rest of his group stayed in the background, eating, cleaning their weapons, and talking amongst themselves. He felt a moment’s irritation at the lack of respect the man showed by meeting him bootless and with his shirt open, but tamped it down. That was The Old Judge; The New Judge hadn’t earned Will’s respect yet.
The rancher rose to greet him. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” he asked in a warm voice.
“No. No, I’m fine, thank you.”
He turned and walked to a bag alongside the tunnel wall. He rustled around inside it and pulled out a bottle half-full of amber liquid. “How about a snort? It’ll take the chill off your bones.” The Judge hesitated, and he added, “It’s Johnnie Walker Blue.”
The Judge gave him a tentative smile. “Well, maybe just one.”
“That’s my man.” Will surprised him with a wink. He opened a nearby crate and searched around, coming up with a tube of Styrofoam cups. He waved the tube in The Judge’s direction. “Aren’t these a surprise? Jiri wandered around the warehouses this afternoon and found two cases of them.
“Yes, I couldn’t help but notice there was significant activity this afternoon. Your people were all over the quarry.”
“Lots to do.”
His tone sounded dismissive in The Judge’s ears.
He poured three fingers of the scotch in each cup and offered one to The Judge. “Johnnie Walker Blue. Used to be forty dollars a shot in the bar back home. Now it’s sitting free on the shelves for any man that wants to take it. Cheers.” He held his cup out, and Jody tapped it with his own. Will threw his drink back in a gulp; The Judge sipped his, savoring the burn in his throat and warmth in his stomach. The alcohol took immediate effect- his nerve endings tingled and a warm cloud mushroomed in his head.
“Say, where are your boys?” The question seemed benign but Will gazed at him intently.
Better just come out with it, he thought. “I’m afraid that Jax isn’t one hundred percent on board with your crew taking over. And Cyrus- well, Cyrus doesn’t tend to make this sort of meeting go easier, so I chose to leave him behind.”
“Jody, nobody’s ‘taking over’. We’re putting in place some safety measures that we are familiar with because we’ve been out there. We’ll make sure everybody has all the supplies they need by scavenging some houses. That’s all. It’s not as if we’ll be running around here telling you guys what to do.”
The Judge removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses with a cloth. “It’s possible ‘taking over’ was a poor choice of words. Whatever the case, I didn’t come down here to rehash things that we have already agreed to. There’s something… some things I need to tell you. Something about me that very few people know.”
Will held the bottle out in invitation. The Judge smiled and bobbed his head.
Will poured more scotch into both cups, ran a hand through his shock of black hair, and peered at The Judge with an impassive face. “I gotta say, Jody, I’m flattered. But I’m not bent that way, and even if I was Becky would never understand.”
The Judge stared at him, dumbstruck. “What?” He tilted his head and looked at Will with a wrinkled brow. He froze. Will’s words sunk in and his eyes popped open wide, then darted around the room, checking to see if anyone else heard him. “You’re mistaken, Will.” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean like that. I’m not like that!” His throat was suddenly so dry that it made an audible click when he swallowed. He looked up at the rancher, worried he had offended him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I had plenty of friends-”
“I’m kidding you, partner.”
“Oh. Oh!” He forced a laugh. He could feel his face turning red and he had a horrible case of dry mouth. “Ha-ha. That was a good one. You had me there.” He pulled the handkerchief out and dabbed at his forehead.
Will studied him in silence then gave his head a slow shake. “Man, you are worked up. Let’s go set on a rock and you can tell me what’s on your mind. Let me tell Becks.”
He walked deeper into the tunnel, back to the rest of his group. He helped Becky to her feet and spoke in her ear for a moment. She nodded, and he bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
The Judge blanched when Danny and Coy moved to join Will. It promised to be hard enough to tell just him what happened- there was no way he could talk about it in front of the two boys. To his relief, Will held a hand up to stop them.
On his way back, he got a jacket and put a big gun in the holster on his hip. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and motioned to The Judge. “Come on, partner.” They headed toward the entrance. “Besides, if I were gay what makes you think you’d be my type?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at the quality of women I spent time with before all this. Way out of my league. I’m sure it would work the same way with men.”
“I’ll bet it didn’t hurt that you were rich.”
“No,” he sighed. “It probably didn’t.”
The Judge Comes Clean
* * *
“Your group isn’t the first to come here saying you know how to keep us safe,” The Judge began. “Shortly after things turned bleak, the same day I picked up Cyrus and we drove down here, an organized group of young men showed up. They drove in one after another in a big caravan. They were all men- hell, boys almost, some of them, not a one over the age of twenty-five. Most worked in The Underground, in the warehouses or one of the factories.”
“Just fellas?” Will interrupted. “No kids, wives, girlfriends?”
“Just grown men. Mark worked here
, too. He wasn’t part of that group, he worked in the office for US Warehouse, the company that owned the place and leased out space. When the situation first spiraled out of control, he went to his house, got clothes and weapons– gear is how he referred to it– came back, and never left. But he knew some of those men, from down here or around town. He said he knew for a fact that a handful of them was married and at least two of them had children. One day he asked one of them, ‘Where are your fellow’s families, your girlfriends?’ Do you know what the man said? ‘There ain’t no place for women and children in the zombie apocalypse. We left them at home.’ You see, they were all huge aficionados of that television program about zombies-”
“The Walking Dead?”
“I believe that’s the name, yes. They used to argue over who more resembled a particular character from the program. They referred to me as ‘Milton’, and I don’t gather they mean it as a compliment.” The Judge peered at Will, who shrugged his shoulders. “For two weeks, everything was fine. They drank copious amounts of alcohol and hung around the gate together- they said they were ‘guarding’ it. Most days the sound of gunfire rang out, like popcorn in a microwave oven. If we asked, they told us they were keeping out the walkers, or working on their marksmanship. Walkers, they called them- you call them creepers. Same thing. But for that entire time, very few people joined us- only a handful of women, all of whom were attractive. Which I thought was odd; the entire town knew this place existed. It was part of the lore, not only in Carthage but in the surrounding towns as well. Of course, many if not most of the residents would have died or turned into those creatures, but more than a handful should have made it here.
“Mark and I had our suspicions, but we didn’t speak of them. One day we took a walk. We didn’t plan it out ahead of time, we simply got up and walked towards the quarry entrance. But when we got close to the end of that curve that takes you to the gate, we left the road and cut behind the trees. We stayed behind them until we were close enough to see the entrance. And we waited.
“Sure enough, after about an hour a man and a woman, both elderly, drove up in a little blue truck. The group stood in front of the gate and blocked it, so the man got out. We couldn’t make out what they said but we could see the old fellow. He spoke to them, then he pleaded, then he got angry. The old man yelled at them, and three of them responded by pointing their guns at him. An old man, seventy if he was a day. He pleaded with them a bit more before he gave up and left. Two more cars tried to enter with the same results.
“I’ll never forget what happened next, no matter how long I walk this Earth. A high-end recreational vehicle came up the road. A middle-aged couple sat up front with two teens behind them. A man exited the RV and went through the same process- talk, plead, argue. Except this time when they put their guns on the dad, he pulled a pistol. Everyone yelled and he backed toward the RV when, out of the blue, one of them shot him. Shot him dead, right there on the road. His wife and children ran to him, screaming and crying. Those guys kept their guns on his family and kept yelling at them. They forced his family to load him in the RV and made them drive away.
“I confronted them, of course. That evening. They laughed at me, cursed me for a fool. ‘It’s a new day, old man,’ they told me. One of their leaders said 116 people lived in these tunnels and the population wouldn’t get bigger. He said there wasn’t enough food for more people. They said we had it too soft down here and that the next day things would change.”
“Did they? Change?”
“Oh yes. After that, we waited on them hand and foot. We cooked their meals, washed their clothes, and got ice from the blast freezers for their beer. That was our lot in exchange for them keeping us safe, they said. We should be grateful. They searched the tunnels and confiscated our guns. Said we didn’t need them since they were doing the dangerous work.
“Two or three times a week they’d send a pair of people, without firearms, into town after ‘supplies’. Stupid, stupid things- snack food, cigarettes and chewing tobacco, pornographic magazines. So many people made that trip and never came back. I’d like to think they lit out for somewhere better but in my heart, I know they are dead or have turned.”
Will listened with rapt attention, his eyes wide. “What happened? How did you get rid of them?”
“They got rid of themselves,” The Judge said with a tight smile. “That’s the other thing I wanted to tell you. That battleground you showed us today? The sound of the battle reached us here. No voices, but automatic weapons, mortars, grenades, the roar of the tanks- it echoed across the bottom for hours.
“Two months passed with us serving at their beck and call. They discussed putting together a harem. You know the way people will act like they’re joking but you can tell they are being serious? It was like that. The men fixated on four or five women and a couple of teen-aged girls. They stroked the women’s hair, slapped them on the buttocks, squeezed their… breasts. They’d make comments about how the women and girls selected for the harem should feel lucky.
“Mark and I knew they had to be stopped, but we couldn’t think of to do it that wasn’t certain suicide. And then one day, God intervened.
“The first explosions and sporadic gunfire sounded at around ten that morning. By noon, it was a full-pitched war. I’m not a creative person- I’m a linear thinker. But in a sudden burst of inspiration, I asked for a sit down with their three leaders. When they brought me before them I told them how the fight had to be going badly. I explained that it sounded a certain way when the U.S. army was winning a firefight, and those sounds weren’t it. I told them this was their chance to be heroes and they needed to drive toward the sound of the fighting and save the military.”
“What made you sure the military was involved? It could have been two crews fighting over territory.”
“I served my country in Vietnam. I was in charge of procurement and never came near an actual firefight, but I heard plenty of grenades and artillery shells, and what the rumble of a tank sounds like from a distance. It didn’t seem likely that two gangs were fighting it out with RPGs and tanks.”
“Makes sense.”
“I laid it on thick. Looked them in the eye and convinced them all they had to do was come up behind the biters and trap them in a crossfire. I extolled their heroism and how they could become famous across the land, maybe even go down in history as the men who changed the course of the zombie war or whatever you call it.”
“Zombie apocalypse. And they bought that?”
“Two did, one didn’t. They told the one he could either help or become a servant. So they gathered up their weapons, started up their trucks, and headed out.
“After another couple of hours the gunfire slowed, then stopped. We waited like an abused dog waits for its master to return home. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish. I thought at worst that going and fighting might diminish their numbers to where we might have a chance in an uprise. At best, somebody in authority would follow them back and save us. But hours turned into days, and none of them returned.”
Will shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”
“And that’s why, when a bunch of strangers showed up to provide us safety, you received so much negativity.”
“Well geez, I bet. Why didn’t you tell me right off?”
“I’m ashamed. I feel like a coward who tricked fourteen men and led them to their deaths.”
“Well Jody, you did. It’s a kill or be killed world for a while, and you did what you had to do. There’s no shame in that. Hell, you should feel damned proud.”
“Thank you, William. That’s very kind. Now, how about you tell me how our group can help yours?”
“I’d be happy to. First though, what’s the deal with Cyrus?”
The Judge sighed. “That, my friend, is a story for another rock.”
Will chuckled, then yawned. “I guess it is late. Put this on hold until tomorrow?”
“Please. It’s past an old man’s bedt
ime.”
The Judge walked with Will back to his tunnel. As they said their goodbyes, he pointed inside. “Why is your group still living communally? There’s plenty of room to spread out.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure we were staying until our conversation just now.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Are our groups going to work with one another? Are you going to take my advice?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“Then we’re staying. It’s a new day tomorrow Jody. Tell your people to get a good night’s sleep.”
Prepare to Scavenge
* * *
Late that night Will’s team met en masse in their designated tunnel. They formed a rough circle sitting on a mix of folding chairs, bedrolls, and fold-away lawn chairs. Will squatted in the center, looking over Justin’s shoulder.
“All right, my boy- lay it on me.” Will leaned toward his navigator, who sat cross-legged next to him with his maps spilled out around them both.
Justin clicked his tongue, chose a map, and examined it. “Here we go. Carthage is just up the road, less than two miles. If you go to Carthage and head west, you’ll come to Webb City. Webb City is the same size as Carthage, population of around 10,000. Three miles north of there you’ll find the mother-lode. Joplin- 60,000 residents before the outbreak. We can find everything we need there.”
“Yeah, including 60,000 creepers. No thanks.” Will raised his voice to ensure the entire gathering understood him. “Nobody goes into Joplin.”
He thought for a moment. They avoided towns of every size during the journey south and then west. They entered a town once, to find the antibiotics needed to keep eight-year-old Tempest from dying. She became ill outside the town of Buffalo, in south-central Missouri. Even though Buffalo was just a little burg and the pharmacy was near the edge of town, getting out of the town had been a heart-stopping episode. Wave after wave of the dead had converged on the pharmacy parking lot; when the crew made their escape, rings of creepers in waist-high stacks circled the spots crew members had fired from. There was only a handful of times that he saw more creepers in one place than they encountered on that medicine run- and that occurred in a town of 3500 people.
The Haven Series (Book 2): Haven Page 7