The Haven Series (Book 2): Haven

by Brian M. Switzer

  Danny took it all in. He was awed by the rolling armory and chagrined that he’d made such a fuss about their motley little collection of weapons. “Did you fellas come across all this in one place?”

  “Nah. Most of it predates the end of the world. We had some of it when we left the military and most of the rest is from when we were chasing bail jumpers and wanted men.”

  On Wednesday morning Danny was taking a leak behind one of the Volkswagen-sized blocks of granite. “Back you go, you big, pretty sonuvabitch,” he murmured as he shook off and zipped up. He turned and jumped, startled to see Will standing behind him with his hands in his jean pockets. He gazed at Danny impassively. The younger man hung his head and kicked at a piece of gravel. When he looked up, Will’s expression hadn’t changed.

  “I got nothing to say, Boss. I knew better than-”

  Will stopped him mid-sentence with an upraised hand. “We’re holding an all-hands meeting tomorrow evening. We’ll announce that the kitchen’s open, and we’re going to start allowing other survivors to live down here. You need to be in on the announcement. People here see you as a leader.” If there was sarcasm in that statement Danny couldn’t detect it. “There’s a planning meeting this afternoon.”

  Danny felt a swell of relieve. “Well, yeah, sure. Tell me when and where. I’ll go to town before-hand and pick up a couple of pizzas.”

  For just an instant the corner’s of Will’s mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile, but it faded fast. “Come on,” he tilted his head toward their tunnel. “Works waitin’. Let’s go find Jiri.”

  “You know,” Danny said as they walked, “this leadership group of ours needs a name.”

  “Yeah. The Judge suggested we call it ‘The Board of Governors.’ Can you believe it?”

  “Coming from him, yes.” Danny snapped his fingers. “Oooh. I’ve got it. ‘Danny and the Acolytes.’ Or ‘The Amazing King Danny and His Resourceful Band of Admirers.’ Or-”

  “Danny.”

  “Sir?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  A Busy Week- Terrence

  * * *

  Terrence and Riley huddled deep inside one of the empty tunnels. Terrence held a battery-powered lanterns high; Riley used the light to roll a joint with speed and precision.

  “Is that the Grand Daddy Purple?” Terrence asked. He watched with Riley work with a keen eye.

  “Yep. We’ve got a little of that and a bit of Kush. Then we’ll be down to shake until planting season.”

  “Oh, well. Everybody’s got to make sacrifices.”

  Riley snickered, licked the length of the cigarette paper, and held the two sides together. When he was sure they would stick he twisted one end and pulled a lighter from his pocket. They sat on the hard limestone floor with their backs against the tunnel wall and the lantern in between them. They passed the joint back and forth a few times in silence. Terrence took a hit, held the pungent smoke in his lungs, and exhaled. He spoke without looking at Riley.

  “What do you think of this place?”

  Riley didn’t respond right away. He picked around the little pieces of limestone on the ground until he found one he liked, and then he’d throw it away into the darkness.

  “What do you think?” Terrence repeated.

  “I guess it’s okay. I don’t see where you would find a safer place unless it was out on a boat, or up in the world’s biggest tree house. And that guy Will seems to have his shit straight.”

  Terrence and Will had spent a couple of hours getting to know each other the night before last, and in Terrence’s opinion, he more than had his shit straight. He and his brain trust appeared to have something going here. The man seemed confident, capable, and determined. Those qualities shined like bright beacons of light to the soldier in Terrence.

  “Yeah, he does. They’ve got plans for this quarry. It’s a genuine refuge and a place where they can start the process of getting back to where we were as a country. On a vastly smaller scale, of course.” Terrence felt Riley’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to meet his stare.

  “Great. We should be sure and stop in whenever we’re nearby.”

  Terrence chuckled. Riley wasn’t taking his hint. “We’ve been running and gunning for a year, Riles. It’s time to stop and rest. And if we do that here, we’re protected. We don’t have to worry about food, water, finding fuel for the Humvee that hasn’t gone over.” Riley started to say something but Terrence kept going. “And we won’t get bored. These folks have never done a sweep in any of the towns around here. We can go into town whenever you want. There’ll be plenty of action.

  “And get this. They’re getting ready to let survivors in and look for people that can contribute. That guy Jiri says there’s room for fifty thousand people in these tunnels.” Riley tried to raise an objection but Terrence talked over him again. “I know, I know. They won’t ever get near that big. There’s no way to feed that many people. But the capacity is a population of fifty thousand. They figure a thousand, max, is the most that can exist down here. The point is, Jiri said they will need a few guys who can take on the duties of law enforcement officers. And he thinks you and I would be perfect for it.”

  Riley tilted his head. “And what does a cop do down here?? What’s the job??”

  “Keep the peace. Settling disputes. Investigate crimes. Detaining the people who commit those crimes.”

  “Fighting with drunks, refereeing petty squabbles, figuring out who stole whose beef jerky. I’ve got two words for that. Bor-ring.”

  Terrence pressed his lips together and thought for a moment. “What’s your reason for the things we did over the last year?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why did you risk your life chasing down pedophiles and rapists and killers?”

  Riley raised his hands palms-up and looked at Terrence with a wrinkled brow. “Because you did, Bro. I’ve got your back.”

  “You didn’t care that we were eliminating parasites, getting rid of the worst kind of people? Helping people that were being preyed upon and didn’t have the muscle or the guns to defend themselves?”

  “Dude, are you serious? Your moral center’s the same as mine. Dress it up and call yourself an avenging angel, running around and administering justice as your own judge, jury, and executioner. But you’re the same as me. We’re sharks. We can’t stop moving because we’re about the hunt and the chase.”

  Terrence took a deep breath and rubbed his goatee. “Brother, if I wasn’t high as shit I’d be pissed right now.” They both chuckled. “After all our time together, your fundamental misunderstanding of my nature really hurts.”

  “Fuck all that. You want to stay here and play house? Stay. I’ll have your back, like always. But when the day comes when we’re packing to leave out of sheer fucking boredom, I’m gonna say ‘I told you so’. Remember this conversation, fucker.” Riley sighed and stretched, his limbs throwing ghostly shadows on the tunnel walls. “You know you’ll be the only black guy down here, right?”

  Terrence snickered. “It seems that way. But, they have a Mexican. See- they just doubled their minority representation.”

  They began the trek back to the tunnel entrance. Terrence heard Riley sigh. “Man, I’d about kill for a frosty cold beer,” he said.

  “Do you realize you’ve wished for a beer every day for a year?”

  “At least I’m consistent.” Riley came to an abrupt stop. “Hey- do you think they’ll give us badges?”

  “They might give me one. You’ll be lucky if they don’t put you in a cell.”

  A Busy Week- The Meeting 1

  * * *

  The quarry-wide meeting took place on a chilly Thursday evening one week after Riley and Terrence joined them. A crew cleared the extruders, shredders, slicers, and assembly lines from the remains of a cavernous cheese plant in tunnel six. Will tasked a team with going office-to-office and lunch room-to-lunch room throughout the tunnels until they had seat
ing for one hundred and forty in the barren factory space.

  Will, Jiri, and The Judge had spent considerable time setting the meeting’s agenda. Once everyone was seated they announced that beginning the following day, the kitchen would be open for two community meals a day, every day. As expected, that news led to a loud, boisterous celebration.

  Things went downhill from there.

  The gathering buzzed with happiness when The Judge announced they planned to open the community to survivors. A handful of layabouts expressed concern that more people meant more work and less food for them. He offered assurances that the newcomers would understand that everyone earned their keep by helping out. “If they have a particular ability, great, we have an abundance of needs, many roles to fill. If they don’t, there’s plenty of work that needs done every day. And of course, everybody takes a turn in the guard towers.”

  Will responded to their food concerns by laying out the near-future as he saw it. “I won’t blow smoke up your ass. The food situation may be rough at first.” That earned him a fretful murmur from the audience, not to mention angry looks from a few of the malcontents. “Listen!” he continued. “Listen to me! Things are in the works that most of you don’t know about. That’s why we called everyone together.

  “Next month, we’re going to haul twenty tons of dirt down here. We’ll spread it and fertilize it, and plant the biggest vegetable garden you’ve ever seen, right down the center of the quarry. My wife Becky and Alice Redman are master gardeners and experts at canning and preserving fruits and vegetables. Those two will teach a few other people what they know, and they’ll put food up for the winter. So we’ll have fresh vegetables this summer and fall, and canned vegetables next winter.”

  Will pointed at a skinny man in his fifties with a head of long, luxurious gray hair and a matching beard flowing over the front of his blue chambray work shirt. “Gene Barns is a barbecue pitmaster- one of the finest in the Midwest. We found him a couple of smokers and he’s going to build a pit back in tunnel one, where he’ll be busy all spring and summer smoking and preserving meat.

  “We’ll put a team together to go out and round up cattle and bring them back for slaughter. A group of people this size can eat on a cow longer than you’d think. And that’s on top of the hogs and chickens we’ll raise down here.” He looked out at his audience and saw that their faces registered a mix of pleasure and surprise.

  “One final thing. We talked about going to the farms close by and planting crops. We won’t be able to this year- the risk is too great. There’s just too many creepers out and about. But for those of you who’ve not spent much time on a farm, let me tell you something about crops.

  “Farmers planted all over the countryside out there last year. Then the outbreak kicked off and a whole slew of them never harvested what they planted, or if they did harvest, they never got to market with their grain. That means the silos are still full. Some crops have rotted, but most of them are just sitting there, waiting for us to haul them down here.” He ticked crops off on his fingers as he names them. “I’m talking corn for feed, and wheat, sorghum, soybeans, oats.

  “Now, some of that we can use, some we can’t. I for one don’t cotton to sitting down to a big bowl of soybeans at supper time. But our own mad little inventor over here…” Will pointed to Cyrus, who’s dirty, matted hair and unkempt beard made him look like a fat Charles Manson. He had one hand deep in a bag of Cheetos and an orange ring around his mouth, along with a blanket of orange crumbs down the front of his shirt. How much junk food had that man stocked away, Will thought in wonder. “Cyrus spent the last few weeks boning up on the manufacture of ethanol. And he’s assured us it’s a simple procedure, as long as he has a steady supply of organic matter to feed the process.

  “So we bring down what’s in the silos, Cyrus turns into fuel, the fuel runs the generators we use to… PRODUCE ELECTRICITY!”

  There was a startled silence, followed by a clamber as everybody spoke at once. From his spot in the gallery, Danny stood on his chair. “No more fucking lanterns!” He bellowed, arms raised over his head. The small assembly would have done a major league ballpark proud, so thunderous their applause and loud their cheers. Still standing in the chair, Danny beamed. Jiri had fed him his line fifteen minutes before the meeting and his delivery was perfect.

  A Busy Week- The Meeting 2

  * * *

  If the news about electricity made the folks euphoric, Will’s next announcement brought them right back down to Earth.

  First, he reported that due to a dire shortage of fuel, the quarry’s cars and trucks would only be used for scavenging trips until the ethanol production was up and running. “It’s getting tougher than a one-eared barn cat to find fuel that ain’t gone bad. Even with additives, it still won’t fire.”

  Charlie O’Brien stood up, his face wrinkled into a scowl. “And just who the hell are you to tell us what we can or can’t do? Who put you guys in charge, huh?” Charley jabbed a finger in Will’s direction when he said ‘you guys’.

  Will spoke in a clipped voice. “We put ourselves there, Charlie, with the decisions we made and the work we put in. Odds are you would all be dead if we hadn’t shown up. Or you’d be creepers.”

  “That don’t necessarily mean-”. Danny interrupted Charlie’s retort by standing up in his chair and stomping a beat on the seat. The clanging sound stopped Charlie in mid-sentence and turned every head in his direction.

  Danny quit stomping and you could hear a pin drop in the room’s silence. “You want to know why they’re in charge? I’ll tell you why. That’s Will Crandall. He defeated the alpha-bull in hand-to-hand combat. That made him the new alpha. It put him on top of the herd and earned him the right to mate with all the females. The only thing you have to do if you want to be the alpha-bull, Charlie- or anybody else- is defeat him in hand-to-hand combat.”

  There were smiles and nods from the group.

  Danny continued. “It might seem the only thing Jiri does is have a funny name and look bewildered, but the man is an idea machine. He spits out good ideas for this place faster than snack food disappears at Cyrus’s house.”

  Almost everyone smiled, and there were a few chuckles.

  “Doc, there? Well, he’s a doctor. He could be sitting in his own self-made, creeper-proof cabin on a hill, happier than a tick on a hound dog. But he chooses to be here, dispensing health care and wisdom. And he’ll pull a gun on you quicker than a hungry chicken on a June bug.”

  Steady laughter emanating from the crowd.

  “And there’s The Judge. Do I have to explain The Judge? The quarry’s Founding Father? The man who put all this in motion? Jody’s smarter than a slap on a whore’s ass.

  “Last, but certainly not least, you’ve got me.” Danny held his hands out wide. “I’m in charge because I’m just… so… damn… pretty!”

  Laughter and applause rolled across the room, with more than a few wolf whistles and catcalls mixed in. Danny gave an exaggerated bow and clenched his hands over his head like a politician at a victory party. Will marveled as the cheers and applause grew even louder. Jesus, he thought, they’re this close to chanting ‘Danny! Danny! Danny!’

  He noted a few faces without cheerful countenances. Charlie had sat back down in his chair. He shook his head, his face locked in a sneer. His little band of followers looked just as displeased. Will eyed them and an uncomfortable idea bubbled up. He might have to do something might need done about Charlie.

  Will

  * * *

  The day that marked a full week after Terrence and Riley’s arrival at the quarry was a busy one for Will. More and more, he found his days filled not with work, but with meetings. Not the formal kind in a well-lit room with plush carpeting, pulled up to a mahogany table. No, these meetings were what Jiri, who always accompanied him, called ‘get-with’s. As in, we need to get with Cyrus about the fuel program, Terrence about security, and The Judge regarding where they’d put the new pe
ople. They hustled from one end of the mine to another, ‘getting with’ that day’s people. Will figured a more pretentious man ensconce himself in a room and summon the conferees to him. But spending the entire day in one of the cursed tunnels would be more than he could bear.

  He and Jiri had just departed tunnel seven following a brief and satisfying sit-down with the heads of the communal kitchen. They gave a briefing covering the successes and concerns of the first few days of food service for the entire community. The biggest concern was the same one shared by everyone in this new world- having enough food.

  “Right now we serve 126 adults, twenty-three teens, and seventeen children,” Betty Ryan told them. Betty was a tall, patrician woman with close-cropped blond hair. Like her close friend The Judge, Betty came from old-time Carthage money. She hadn’t worked a day in her life but involved herself with dozens of charities, outreaches, and church programs. She didn’t dare dirty her hands in the kitchen, but her background made her a natural to administer its logistics.

  Will listened to her prattle about trying to serve the right food to the right age group and the paucity of nutrient-rich items at her disposal. He tried valiantly to keep his eyes from glazing over; the kitchen was Jiri’s baby, not his. The professor had a knack for sensing when Will’s patience was near its end. Just when he was on the verge of erupting, Jiri put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for the valuable input, Betty. We’ll take your concerns under advisement and try to address them going forward.”