“Maybe not, but they’re easy to carry, last forever, and are yummy.” He wagged his eyebrows.
While sucking ‘chicken stew’ out of a pouch, Harper watched people emerging from the other two houses, heading to the bathroom, then back to gather in the dirt lot. A relatively young Hispanic couple with a little girl smiled in their direction. Both the mother and daughter wore simple dresses, the man in sweat pants and a tank top. None of them had shoes. The child appeared heartbreakingly skinny, but smiled in their direction as if she’d spotted angels come to whisk her to safety.
If Carl decides everyone’s going to stay here, I’m tempted to grab that kid. She needs food.
Mason crossed the lot on his way to the latrine, waving at her. The Olsen’s followed soon after. A skinny guy with a narrow, angular face emerged from the smaller grey house, glanced over at the Evergreen crew, and paused on his way to the latrine. Behind him, a mid-thirties Chinese man exited the house and also stopped to check them out before continuing to the bathroom.
Eventually, a group of thirteen adults plus Daxton and the small girl gathered in the middle of the property around Carl. Harper stuffed the empty plastic pouches from her MRE into the outer pouch, and put the trash in her pack. Despite the war, it felt wrong to throw it wherever. Perhaps because of the war, littering made her feel even worse. Civilization had taken a step back, yielding to nature. Granted, some areas would have gone quite far the other way, full of poison, radiation, or other contamination as a result of the bombs.
Washington DC is probably as flat as Salt Lake for miles.
She looked up from stuffing the pouches in the backpack to find the little girl standing right in front of her. Harper jumped, which made the child giggle. Up close, she looked even skinnier and about seven or eight years old. Long, straight black hair framed a face so innocent that Harper had to fight the urge to pick her up and squeeze her like a plushie.
“Hi there.” Harper smiled.
“Hey, kiddo.” Logan offered her a cookie.
“Hi.” The girl snagged the Fig Newton and stuffed it into her mouth as if worried someone might take it away from her before she could eat it. “Thank you!”
Logan offered her a few more.
She grabbed them happily. “You’re nice, and her hair is pretty.”
“Thank you.” Harper offered her a water bottle that still had a Pepsi label. “So is yours. Straight hair is so much easier to live with.”
The girl chugged half the water before coming up for air. “What’s your name? I’m Alma Cortez.”
“Harper Cody, and this is Logan Ruiz.”
“Thank you for the cookies.” Alma bit her lip. “There’s not much food here.”
Her heart melted into a puddle. “I didn’t bring too much, but here…” Harper took the second MRE from her backpack, tore open the outer package, and handed it to her. “There is food inside these pouches. This is a whole meal.”
“Thank you!” Alma hugged her, then darted over to her parents, pointing at Harper while holding the MRE up to show them.
Her mother and father waved and mouthed thanks. Mr. Cortez helped Alma open the meal pouch. The girl attempted to give food to her parents, but they insisted she eat the main entrée, snacking on the crackers and cookies instead.
“It’s really bad here,” said Logan. “We should press them to pick up and follow us. That kid’s gonna starve.”
“Yeah. Another few days here and she’ll look like Lorelei did when Tyler found her.” Harper zipped her backpack. “This is the part I hate the most.”
“Walking?”
“No, dork.” She laughed. “Speaking in front of people. I’ve always been painfully shy. Up until fifth grade, everyone thought I could only speak in whispers at school.”
“A shy redhead? Seriously?” Lennie laughed.
Harper sighed. “I know… I know.”
“You can’t be that bad.” Logan tossed a Newton into his mouth whole. “Never pegged you for being shy.”
She smirked. “You didn’t know me before things went crazy. And I kinda grew out of it. In fourth grade, I almost got suspended for refusing to stand up in front of class and read a report out loud. I was so damn terrified I threw up all over my desk.”
“Damn. Why would they suspend you for having a panic attack?”
“Wasn’t a real panic attack, just social anxiety. Teacher was a bitch. Accused me of being defiant.”
“So what happened?”
“The principal gave me a choice between reading the paper or getting an F for that assignment. I said ‘I’ll take the F’ without hesitation. Guess that convinced him I wasn’t just being a brat or something. Got away with a C, didn’t have to read it aloud… and they made me see a psychologist.”
“How did that end up?” Logan put an arm around her. “You seem normal.”
“Apparently, I was mortally terrified that someone might not like me, so I tried to stay as unnoticed as possible. Or something like that. Would you believe me if I told you I hate conflict? Like even arguing over lame stuff. When Maddie and Mom would start shouting at each other about cleaning up her room, I’d have to go outside because it stressed me out so much to even hear them fight.”
Logan stared at her for a long moment. “You blasted the faces off four dudes like a Navy freakin’ SEAL. I can’t even picture you losing it because of an argument between your mother and little sister.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not the same person I used to be.” Harper stood. “None of us are.”
He leapt to his feet and took her hand. “That’s not always a bad thing. To change.”
She half smiled at him. “Didn’t say it was.” C’mon Harp. You can do this. Just talking to people. “Here goes.”
“You got this.” He rubbed her shoulder.
“Hah. Yeah…”
Harper approached the crowd, heading for Carl Henderson who stood at the center fielding a barrage of questions. Most of what she could pick out of the raised voices sounded like people demanding ‘good reasons’ to stay here. A few asked about the risks of a long trip, while a younger Hispanic guy worried aloud that Evergreen was a trap and they’d all wind up prisoners or dead.
“Excuse me,” said Harper, raising her voice enough that her hands shook a little from drawing so much attention to herself.
Everyone more or less shut up at once, and looked at her.
“A gang that wanted to kidnap you or force you to join them would have already started shooting people as a show of dominance and intimidation. We didn’t come here to make you do anything.” She paused, measuring the group’s reaction. All but three regarded her with warm expressions. Carl appeared flustered. He said he didn’t want to be in charge, but he looks scared of losing control. “Even a boy Daxton’s age can tell the situation here is unsustainable.”
“Girl’s got the big words,” whispered the twenty-something who worried about Evergreen being a trap.
“Not her fault you dropped out of school in fourth grade, Leo,” said a pale boy about eighteen or nineteen. Black hair and clothes made him look goth.
Leo gave him the finger and muttered something in Spanish that caused Mrs. Cortez to cover Alma’s ears and Logan to fight laughter.
The goth boy chuckled.
“Look.” Harper exhaled. “It’s pretty obvious just by looking at you that there isn’t enough food here. None of us are getting fat, but we’re definitely not starving. Maybe you can start finding fish or resurrect that little garden back there, but you can definitely do better in Evergreen.”
“There’s too many unanswered questions.” Carl frowned off to the side. “What happens to us there? Put to work? Take our weapons away? What?”
“Everyone who has skills is asked to use them. People who aren’t like plumbers or electricians or whatever usually end up on the farm. I guess you could call it a job. But you’re not working for a boss. We’re working for everyone. Surviving is everyone’s responsibility. Those who
have skills do whatever they’re good at. Certain weapons, Mayor Ned asks be given to the militia to help protect everyone. Mostly, combat rifles and such. Or, you could join the militia if you want to keep them. That’s how I ended up here. Didn’t want to give up my dad’s shotgun. No one’s going to ask for handguns or anything else. Only military style weapons.”
“You’re welcome to keep carrying a combat rifle if you’re willing to stand up to defend the town.” Deacon stepped forward. “Ain’t no money. They allocate out food as needed, clothes, and such. Isn’t like we got a king gettin’ rich off our backs. We’re all just a bunch of survivors tryin’ ta do right by each other.”
Harper’s anxiety lessened with him standing next to her.
“Sounds too good to be true.” Carl folded his arms.
Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, it kinda does.”
“I’m not saying it’s perfect. We’re trying to get electricity back, but it’s down more than it’s up. Sometimes, people try to attack the farm and steal food. Which is really stupid because if they just walked in and asked to live there, we’d feed them. Nowhere is perfect anymore, just less crappy than other places.”
“It isn’t perfect here, but we’re managing.” Carl shifted his jaw side to side.
“Are you though? Your people are starving.” Harper gestured around. “Considering what you had to work with in this place, the lake, the land, that tiny garden… you’ve managed to keep these people alive because you didn’t know about a larger, safer settlement. Now that you know, a good leader will decide to act in his people’s best interest.”
The people started talking back and forth among each other. The Olsons wanted to go. A woman named Kelli about her mother’s age also voiced her desire to trust Harper. Natalia and Miguel Cortez practically demanded they pick up and get out of here as fast as possible. The goth teen, Luke, had no strong opinion either way, figuring they had ‘just as much chance to die here as there.’
Guess he is a goth. He and Darce should get along.
Daxton and his mother Jen pushed hard to relocate. Vijay clutched his rifle, a long-barrel variant of an AR-15, close, but also agreed with the idea of moving.
He’s going to join the militia. Harper smiled at him, then fell somber, wondering if that rifle belonged to someone he loved… like her Mossberg.
James Wong, a mid-thirties guy dressed like an office worker, spent most of the discussion time bemoaning that they’re not going to need digital artists or computer programmers, so he and Vijay would be stuck doing some ‘bullshit work.’
“Is doin’ BS work worse than getting shot or starving?” asked Logan.
James sucked in a breath to respond, paused, then sighed. “Nah. I’m just suffering tech withdrawal. Haven’t touched a working computer since the blast.”
“You’re an artist?” asked Harper.
“Yeah.”
“People always need art. Maybe it won’t be on a computer, but you can still like draw or paint, right?”
“Been a while, but yeah.”
The group’s discussion shifted strongly toward leaving. No one appeared to have any sentimentality for Kriley Ranch, since they’d come from various places and merely holed up here to survive the winter. Plus, this place had many bad memories due to them being so critically low on food plus watching more than half their original number die to the raider attacks.
Harper closed her eyes, worrying about that. If psychos harassed this town, they might be watching it and could follow them all the way back to Evergreen. Some people only resisted giving in to their depraved urges due to fear of punishment. Without any organized law enforcement, those individuals would do whatever they wanted to whomever they cared to harass.
“All right. Pretty obvious a consensus here.” Carl bowed his head. “No point delaying if there really is food waiting for us. Might as well gather our stuff and get going as soon as possible. Tell me again how exactly this is going to work?”
“It’s about ten to twelve hours walking,” said Harper. “When we get there, you’ll all need to be checked out by the doctors, then talk to Anne-Marie—she’s the town manager—and Mayor Ned. Anne-Marie will assign you a house and figure out what, umm, ‘job’ you’ll do. Then you hit the quartermaster’s place, grab food, and go to your new home.”
The people mostly nodded their approval.
Harper smiled at Alma. “There’s even a bunch of other kids you can play with.”
“All right. Any objections to following these people to Evergreen?” asked Carl.
No one said anything.
“Okay.” Carl shrugged in a ‘well, that’s that’ sort of way. “Everyone, grab your stuff and let’s go.”
Miguel Cortez, Mason Pruitt, and Clive Olson hurried off to the houses. Everyone else stood there. Jen Oliver and Daxton already had backpacks over their shoulders as if they’d expected the vote to go in favor of leaving.
“That’s it? Only three people?” asked Carl.
“We ain’t got nothin’ worth carrying.” Leo Ruiz laughed.
Miguel, Mason, and Clive returned in a few minutes carrying bags or backpacks. Miguel added a red sweatshirt over his tank top and handed his wife a pair of sneakers. Among the residents of Kriley Pond, only Vijay had a rifle. Carl, and Kelli both carried handguns. Jen Oliver wore a pair of hatchets on her belt and the goth kid, Luke, sported a ninja sword on his belt.
“Miguel, Mason, Abe, and Leo,” said Carl, “You guys feel like lugging water?”
“Sure thing boss,” said Miguel.
He and the other men went over to the two giant boil pots and filled gallon milk bottles, each of them carrying two. Harper and Lennie worked out an escort formation, putting her and Deacon up front—since she had the directions. Lennie and Logan would follow behind the group in case of attack from the rear. Ms. Tiller, she asked to cover the middle along with Vijay.
Harper looked around at everyone watching her expectantly. Before the war, having a group even as small as fifteen people all looking at her as the boss would’ve sent her scurrying out of the room. She still had a little anxiety goblin pulling its hair out deep inside her stomach, but it didn’t scare her that much anymore. Not after having been shot at.
“Okay, looks like we’re set. Let’s get going.” She exhaled, eager to get home, and walked for the gate.
“Man, screw this place,” muttered Leo.
30
Fire and Brimstone
The group headed southeast along Golden Gate Canyon Road, past Kriley Pond.
Going downhill made the trip a little easier, though with more people, some in their fifties, they didn’t go quite as fast. Since she didn’t have shoes, Alma ended up being carried in rotation between her mother, James Wong, and Kelli Randolph. Ms. Tiller asked what happened to the girl’s shoes. Apparently, the family hadn’t been awake during the strike. A concussion wave from a blast near their apartment building literally knocked them out of bed. They’d run out the door in their pajamas. Everything they had now, they’d found or scavenged later.
Harper thought back to when she’d fled her old house. Madison would’ve ended up being stuck barefoot, too, if not for her flip-flops being in the front yard. If not for Harper’s toes getting cold in the basement, she wouldn’t have had shoes at all—at least until they found their way to Evergreen. Thanks to numerous Walmart runs, the quartermaster had a fairly decent stock. No one bothered collecting impractical shoes like high heels. The thought that all these people would get out of the rags they’d been stuck in for months, have food, and be safe, made her smile.
The people assembled in a fairly orderly line. Harper kept her eyes on the thick bushes and trees that lined the road. Roughly a half-hour after they left Kriley Ranch, they approached a rightward curve.
Something moved in the weeds.
Harper reflexively aimed toward that spot.
Nine people—seven men and two women—rushed out of the foliage at them. All but one wore ‘
skirts’ made of torn, brown fabric wrapped around their bodies and smears of some dark substance on their bare chests and faces. The one man who wasn’t half naked wore a ripped black trenchcoat over a dingy grey shirt and pants that appeared handmade from a grey plastic tarp. Bushy brown hair and beard hung down to his waist, as wild as the glint in his eyes. He’d painted the upper half of his face black with the same substance smeared all over the others.
Since none of them had guns, Harper held her fire, though she aimed at the bearded guy. The mostly naked people all brandished knives, machetes, or carpenter hammers.
The survivors from Kriley Pond backed away from the ‘wild’ ones, edging to the right side of the road up against a fairly steep rocky hill. Harper and the other militia, plus Ms. Tiller and Vijay, pointed their weapons at the strange group.
“The hell are you supposed to be?” asked Deacon.
“Other than crazy?” whispered Logan. “Look at their eyes.”
“Sinners!” shouted the trenchcoat guy. “You have rejected His will.”
“Go away,” yelled Harper. “You’re clearly insane. We don’t want to hurt you.”
He pointed at her. “God has judged humanity and found it failing. He has rained down upon us great holy fire as a purge of the unworthy. He commands death. All who live are sinners as they defy his will!”
“Then you should stop sinning first,” said Logan.
Lennie leaned closer to him. “I think that’s their plan. You ever hear of suicide by cop?”
“The guy’s nuts. Just back away slowly.” Harper started to creep down the road, waving for the people she escorted to keep going. “If they twitch—”
“Heed his command!” shouted the bearded guy. He yanked his left hand out of his trenchcoat pocket, a small, dark object in his hand.
Harper blasted him in the face, but not before he lobbed a hand grenade in the general direction of the group. Her rapid shot turned his throw into a limp-armed toss. The grenade hit the street with a metallic clack, rolling toward the Cortez family, Mason, and the Olsons.
Evergreen (Book 4): Nuclear Summer Page 26