Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Of course, as soon as Earl’s beer made the rounds, more arguments started. People wanted to get angry at whichever country nuked the US, though not one person had a clue where the strike came from. Russia made for the most obvious choice since they possessed the most nuclear weapons. China came in at second place, North Korea a distant third. When the anti-China shouting started, Jonathan hid under a table and didn’t come out until Cliff found him.

  For her part, Harper spent most of the ‘cookout’ running around helping break up fights. She still had a dull ache in her cheek from where an accidental elbow caught her. After that, she stopped trying to run up behind people fighting. When guys in the midst of a brawl saw her, they mostly calmed down. A few picked her up and threw her aside like an annoying kid getting in the way, but no one actively tried to hit her.

  She wandered something akin to a patrol route around the farm for a while, thinking mostly about her siblings having found a place of relative contentment. Madison and Jonathan sometimes still did dance class type stuff together, though nowhere near as often as before the war. Also, lacking actual instructors, they mostly performed random moves they remembered. As much as her sister used to love dancing, it probably reminded her too much of the civilized world. That might explain why she’d started losing interest.

  Beth went by following a group of other teen farm workers, carrying baskets of picked veggies. She looked up at Harper, her face blushing red in seconds. Ever since she’d caught that girl and her boyfriend Jaden in a house that should’ve been empty not quite a year ago, the girl couldn’t look at her without a reaction. Beth turned seventeen last January. By some miracle, she hadn’t gotten pregnant yet despite rumor claiming she and Jaden still frequently had sex. As in, almost daily. Then again, Evergreen didn’t have much in the way of entertainment.

  People in the 1800s got married at that age. Harper half-shrugged. The modern world would freak out at the idea of a seventeen-year-old and a boy one year older having kids together as part of a loving relationship. This shifted her thinking to Logan. His getting shot had put something of a damper on physical love up until recently. Despite his seeming up for it, she’d been afraid to do more than kiss him or hold hands and cuddle.

  There’s no more birth control. She lightly scratched her fingertips over her stomach. Getting knocked up could kill me. This worry occupied her mind for a while as she wandered the veggie rows, observing people as well as the distant edges of the farm for signs of danger. At times, she felt awkwardly lazy, as though she merely roamed about with a gun rather than did actual work. But, if anything bad happened, she’d be running at the problem while everyone else ran the other way. No one gave her any attitude about ‘not working’ because they all expected her to do whatever it took to protect them.

  And, for the most part, she would. However, a suicidal charge at a large pack of bad guys wouldn’t happen unless they had grabbed Madison, Jonathan, or Lorelei.

  Her thoughts eventually returned to Logan. Of the friends she had before the war, she and Renee had been the only two not to have lost their virginity yet. Renee came damn close when the Lawless abducted her, but she faked them out by pretending to be younger. Darci went through several boyfriends already and willingly traded sex for extra food during her time at the Army survivors’ camp.

  Harper shuddered at that idea, thankful that whatever forces of the universe aligned to lead her and Madison here safely. The idea of an Army-run camp to protect survivors sounded good in theory. If she’d heard about that before rumors of Evergreen, she’d likely have gone there. Only, rumors and reality often didn’t align.

  She distracted herself from those bad thoughts by picturing Logan shirtless. Not like getting pregnant will ruin my future anymore… unless it kills me. Not gonna be going to college, finding a career. She huffed, blowing hair up off her face. At least I got out of having to decide on a major. She resumed daydreaming about him, her cheeks warming at the thought of letting Logan see her body. On a dare freshman year, she’d flashed her boobs at a boy during a house party. Alas, at fourteen, she hadn’t developed much, and he laughed at her. After that, she’d been too embarrassed to do anything of the sort again, even with boys she’d dated for a few months.

  Okay, so I’m a bit self-conscious. She daydreamed about her and Logan somewhere private, if she’d have the nerve to let him see her naked. Her feelings for him had started off under a cloud of pain and doubt from Tyler. With him, she’d practically thrown herself at the only boy in town near in age to her. That had been a panic situation, the only two teens around. Maybe even the only two teens left alive—or so she’d thought back then. Additional people her age had arrived since then, the hockey team plus cheerleaders, as well as others trickling in month to month. She didn’t trust herself to have real feelings, suspicious she merely wanted to attach herself to the first boy who smiled at her out of some weird obligation not to ‘let humanity die out.’

  What she felt for Logan finally shed the discoloration of Tyler and grown into a thing she had no real way to describe. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say she loved him yet. At least not out loud. Her emotions toward him still held quite a bit of fear, nervousness, and shame. But the society of before had become ashes. She could die tomorrow, as could he.

  I mean, people back in the day still had babies, right? If they didn’t, none of us would exist. Maybe it’s not as deadly as I’m thinking… but still. Not in a hurry. Least we still have two real doctors. But they won’t last forever. Do places like El Salvador still have modernity? Who’d nuke Central America? Humanity probably isn’t screwed… just us. Or major countries anyway.

  If some places still had civilization, it might be possible for modern life to recover over several generations. With that hope in mind, she smiled and resumed walking. A few minutes later, a giggling Lorelei raced out from tall green stalks on the right, darted across the dirt path in front of her, and disappeared into slightly shorter plants still tall enough to engulf the almost seven-year-old on the left side of the path. Her birthday came August second, roughly two weeks away.

  That poor kid almost didn’t make it to seven… we’re going to give her a huge party.

  Smiling, she again resumed daydreaming about Logan for a little while… until the shrill scream of a child somewhere off to her right broke the relative silence of the farm.

  Oh, shit!

  Harper tightened her grip on Dad’s Mossberg and ran as fast as she could in the direction of the screaming child.

  2

  Crimes of the Old West

  Harper rushed into rows of tall tomato plants lashed to thin sticks, running flat out until she spotted a slender brown-haired girl in a plain dress.

  She recognized Emmy right away. The now-nine-year-old still woke up shrieking sometimes due to nightmares about the ‘sky fire.’ That girl had probably seen people burned to ashes by a nuclear blast, or at least witnessed the post-flash fireball. Upon realizing who screamed, Harper calmed down and jogged the rest of the way. Sometimes, Emmy would scream at stuff in her head.

  “Emmy? What’s wrong?”

  The child backed away from something on the ground and pointed.

  Harper walked up to stand beside her.

  There, in the dirt between rows of climbing tomato plants, lay the remains of a dead man in a plain white T-shirt marked by multiple stab wounds and blood. His jeans and work boots appeared undamaged, though dirt caked both knees as if he’d been kneeling on the ground. Flies gathered on his pallid face, crawling around his lips and into his nostrils. He didn’t yet stink.

  Despite having shot people, the sight of a corpse startled a gasp out of Harper.

  Emmy looked up, shaking and crying. “I almost stepped on him. Was just running down the tomatoes and there’s a dead man here.”

  Harper moved to stand between the girl and the dead guy, waving a hand at her face to shoo a curious fly away. “Are you okay, Emmy?”

  “I’m scared.”<
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  “He can’t hurt anyone. Yes, he looks really scary, but he can’t hurt you. Okay?”

  Emmy sniffled, nodding once.

  “Can you be brave and do something really important?”

  “I don’t wanna touch a dead man.”

  Harper chuckled at the unexpected statement. “No, Em. Wasn’t going to ask you to. I need you to do one of two things, and you do whichever one you want to do more, okay?”

  “What are they?” Emmy wiped tears from her face on the back of her arm.

  “If you’re scared, go to your mother. If you’re not too scared, please head down the road into town and tell Walter what happened here, what you found.”

  “Therese isn’t my mother.” Emmy looked at the ground.

  “She’s taking care of you, right?”

  Emmy nodded.

  “Then it’s okay to think of her as a mother. Your actual mother will always be special, but it’s okay to let someone else take over until she finds her way here.”

  “She isn’t coming. She’s dead. The Sky Fire ate her.”

  Harper grimaced inside. Dammit. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I think she’s still watching me.” Emmy dug her toes into the dirt. “I think she doesn’t mind Therese likes to take care of me now.”

  “I’m sure she’s happy that you’re okay.”

  “Yeah.” Emmy managed a weak smile. “Do I have’ta leave the farm?”

  “No. Just thought you might want to. If I found a dead guy at your age, I’d have crawled under my bed.”

  Emmy laughed. “No way! Not you. You’re brave.”

  “I just play brave on television.” She winked.

  “Be back. Gonna tell Walter.” Emmy ran off.

  Harper watched her go until she disappeared behind corn, then turned to look at the dead guy. She teased a finger at the air horn on her belt. Finding a corpse didn’t really qualify as a 911 emergency. If she sounded an alarm, Dennis, Lennie, and Josh—the three other militia defending the farm during the day—would come running, leaving the perimeter open. The body might have been planted to cause all the militia to converge on the same spot so raiders could run in. However, that didn’t make a lot of sense, as raiders would have needed to sneak in to plant the body. If they could do that, they’d have already started shooting.

  The dead guy appeared slightly familiar. She’d seen him around Evergreen once or twice before, but hadn’t developed enough familiarity to remember a name. He’d definitely been at the July Fourth meal, since she remembered his curly strawberry-blond hair and thick mustache. She remembered that yellow-hat guy trying to pull him away from one of the fights, but it hadn’t been a particularly violent one.

  Dirt on his knees made her think he’d been forced to kneel, but his arms lay loose at his sides, no evidence that he’d been tied. His knuckles didn’t have any damage either, not even red spots. So he didn’t appear to have been involved in a fistfight any time recently. Three wounds on the chest indicated where a knife-sized blade pierced, all relatively close together, somewhat left of center.

  At the approach of footsteps behind her, Harper stood and whirled.

  Two dusty workers walked up to her. She recognized them both, Dean and Maitland.

  Dean Gibson looked at her, large eyes in his narrow face widening in concern. Short for a guy, he only stood about her height, but had a thick, muscular physique. Dust trailed out of his afro in the breeze, almost like smoke from a fire. Maitland had the widest, squarest jaw she’d ever seen on a person outside a comic book. His short, wild brown hair looked like he cut it himself with a dull table knife… while drunk.

  “What’s the screaming about?” asked Maitland. “Some kid get hurt?”

  “You okay, Harper?” Dean started to say something else, paused to peer past her, then whistled. “Oh. Damn, is that Weldon?”

  She backed against the tomato plant behind her so they could see the body. “Not sure what his name was. Emmy almost stepped on him.”

  “Poor kid.” Maitland approached the body, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s Weldon, all right.”

  “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill him?” Harper tilted her head. “And I’ve watched way too many cop shows.”

  The men chuckled.

  “Not rightly sure.” Dean scratched his head. “Far as I know, he rolled into town like a month or so back with a couple other people. Five of ’em I think. Just a bunch of wandering survivors like most of us. Seemed like a decent guy. Chose to work on the farm.”

  “Yeah.” Maitland nodded. “Damn shame.”

  “If he’s on the farm crew, that explains what he’s doing out here.” Harper stepped over Weldon’s body, examining the ground. Cliff had started teaching her how to track, but the lessons had been few and short so far. Some marks in the dirt kinda looked like heels being dragged, but she didn’t trust herself to consider that certain truth.

  “Yeah, it would.” Dean shook his head. “Poor bastard.”

  “Guess that also explains why he didn’t show up at breakfast.” Maitland nudged the body with his boot.

  Harper tapped her foot, thinking. If the dead man missed breakfast, that probably meant he’d been killed last night sometime.

  Thinking about TV cop shows, Harper crouched and studied the corpse’s hands and fingers—while simultaneously cringing. Gah! What is wrong with me? This is a dead guy. Shouldn’t I be throwing up and running away? She swallowed bile and kept looking. No marks on his hands. Defensive wounds? Either he let someone stab him or didn’t see it coming.

  “Do you guys know the other people he arrived with?” She peered up at them. At least I sound like a cop even if I have no damn idea what I’m doing.

  “Not really. Just that they all work on the farm. Three other guys and a lady,” said Maitland. “Seemed pretty normal, though the woman’s on the quiet side.”

  “Probably saw some bad shit.” Dean sighed. “Ain’t that uncommon anymore.”

  Harper leaned over the body to examine the stab wounds. The size and shape of the injuries suggested a knife made them. These looked about the same as the holes left in bodies when Cliff stabbed the Lawless. Someone kill him over the woman? Or do we have a random psycho?

  “Harper?” called Roy Ellis.

  “Here!” she shouted, while standing. Hearing his voice increased her confidence. He’d been an actual police officer prior to the war. Up on her toes, she peered over the tops of the plants at Roy, Annapurna, and Sadie walking generally toward her.

  Emmy, too short for her to see past the tomatoes, seemed to appear out of nowhere at the entrance to the row where Harper stood a few seconds later. The child pointed to indicate which row contained the corpse, then ran off to the south. Soon after, the militia approached, squeezing past Dean and Maitland. Harper remained on the opposite side of the body not to crowd them. Roy, sporting a shaved head and blue police vest, looked like the cop he used to be prior to the strike—only dustier. Even though no true infrastructure remained, he still carried himself the same as she imagined he did while officially a cop. Granted, the militia were as official as it got in terms of law enforcement in this world.

  “What’cha got, Harp?” asked Roy.

  She explained finding the body, what the two guys shared regarding the group of four new arrivals, and her non-professional assessment of finding no defensive wounds. Last, she pointed at what she believed to be drag marks. “I think he died somewhere else and whoever killed him moved the body here. Most likely died at some time last night. These guys say he missed breakfast.”

  Roy crouched next to Weldon and examined the stab wounds. “I can hear my old captain complaining already about contaminating the crime scene.”

  He’s joking, right? Harper shifted her weight from leg to leg, unsure how to react.

  Neither Annapurna nor Sadie appeared to have much interest in examining the body up close, but they also didn’t seem squeamish. More people gathered around, no doubt word spre
ading across the farm about the discovery. Even a few of the kids tried to get a look at the remains, though nearby adults held them back.

  “Gonna be damn near impossible to prove anything,” said Roy.

  “Someone killed this guy.” Harper gestured at the body. “There could be a killer around and they might go after someone else. We should at least try to figure out who did it. Not like it’s going to end up in court where a bunch of lawyers would attack the forensics evidence.”

  “Heh.” Roy chuckled. “No kidding.”

  Walter Holman made his way past the crowd, whistling upon seeing the dead man. “Damn. That’s not good. Any ideas what happened here?”

  Roy stood. “Little Emmy stumbled across the body. Guessing he’s been here since last night. Harp thinks the killer did the deed elsewhere last night and dumped the body here. Reasonable enough idea. None of the tomato plants have any damage. Doesn’t look like any sort of altercation happened here. Also, the guy doesn’t seem to have put up a fight at all. Only marks on him are the three stab wounds. Might’ve been in bed when he got it.”

  Great. I didn’t even think of that. As if I needed more trouble falling asleep.

  “Hmm. That it?” Walter glanced around at the crowd. Sunlight filtering past the tomato plants danced in tiny spots on his lemon-yellow polo shirt. “Weldon Moss if memory serves. Came in a little over a month ago in a group of five. If any problems followed this guy here, that group might know about it.”

  “Right. Any idea how long they ran together?” asked Roy.

  Walter smiled. “Recall them saying since soon after the blast. Don’t think any reasons from pre-nuke would matter or they’d have offed him before they got here.”