Evergreen (Book 5): The Nuclear Frontier

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “I’m not an idiot.” Madison smirked.

  “Hope he don’t get hungry,” said Deacon. “He starts crying, it’s going to be a siren telling everyone where we are.”

  Leigh scanned the area. “Good thing we’re not in the middle of enemy territory. Figure most people we run into aren’t going to be an immediate problem.”

  “Explain those other idiots.” Madison collected the baby from Logan. “Oof. Yeah, he is a little heavy.”

  “One pack of morons doesn’t mean everyone out here’s got their heads up their asses.” Deacon grinned. “Only a few of those fools had guns. Compared to most out here, we are too heavily armed to mess with.”

  “Yeah, even the innocent little girls are armed.” Logan ruffled Madison’s hair.

  “Ha. Ha.” She bounced the baby. “I’ve got the heavy weapon. I’ll just point his butt at bad guys and give him a squeeze.”

  Harper chuckled. “He’s out of ammo. Used it up already.”

  Madison gagged.

  They continued walking along Colorado 103, looking around for any signs of a shootout or fight. The total emptiness—not a single abandoned car—made everything seem unreal and dreamlike, as though she merely had a nightmare of being among the last people alive on the planet.

  Little too close to reality. She squeezed her grip on the Mossberg. Hope we’re just some of the last people alive in the country, not the world. Did anyone nuke Australia or New Zealand? Wonder if people down there are still going on like normal.

  Hours later, they reached a rightward bend in the road with a sizable dirt clearing on the inside of the curve. Up ahead lay the intersection with Route 103, where she needed to go.

  How the hell do they navigate this at night without getting lost? Maybe they did simply get lost? Made a wrong turn?

  A hint of motion came from her right, farther along Squaw Pass Road.

  Harper held a hand up in a warning signal, then crouched, squinting at a group of people walking into view where the gradually curving road emerged from thick trees a couple hundred feet away. Everyone lowered themselves to one knee. Logan, who’d been carrying the baby for the past hour or so, handed him off to Madison again before pulling the AK-47 off his shoulder. Harper kept the Mossberg ready but not aimed. Buckshot wouldn’t work too well at long range.

  Cliff taught her the human eye seeks motion. Sitting still in the middle of the road protected her more than making a mad dash for the trees on the left. Of course, such tactics worked better at night. Even the most oblivious person would notice a group kneeling out in the open. She considered moving left into the woods, since the dirt lot and open field on the right offered zero cover or concealment.

  However, it soon became apparent the people at the front of the approaching group were children. Four tweens about Madison’s age walked ahead of a woman and four men. Everyone except for two of the men wore a variety of shredded, grimy pre-war clothing that looked like they got into a fight with a lawn mower and lost. It took her only seconds to recognize the man in a blue police-style jumpsuit as Roy Ellis and the man in green camo as Cliff.

  Her heart nearly exploded from joy and relief.

  “It’s them!” shouted Harper, then whispered, “Stand down.”

  “Dad!” yelled Madison. “Daaaaad!” She handed the infant back to Logan so she could jump up and down while waving her arms.

  Even from here, Cliff’s ‘WTF is she doing out here’ stare was obvious.

  Leigh, Deacon, Logan, and Madison relaxed and moved closer to Harper, waiting for the other group to move up to their position.

  A minute or so later, the ten-or-eleven-year-olds at the lead stopped short a safe ten or so paces away. All filthy, they had to have been living rough in the same clothes ever since the war. All had long hair. Harper guessed the two kids whose hair stopped at their waists—instead of hanging down past their knees—were boys, but couldn’t tell for certain. The blonde girl, a willowy twelve-year-old, wore shoes so mummified in duct tape Harper could only guess actual shoes lurked under the tape. The others, except for one man, went barefoot. The oldest of the strangers, a black guy in his later forties, wore sandals made from license plates and foam padding likely taken from a car seat, held on by wires. Harper tried not to breathe too much as the people all gave off a fairly rancid smell. They looked one strong windstorm away from not having clothes at all—which she would consider an improvement purely from a health standpoint. If bacteria could be knitted into garments, this group wore it.

  Cliff approached Harper, eyebrow up. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

  “Holy shit,” she exhaled more than said, then collapsed against him. “You didn’t come home last night. I got worried.”

  “We bumped into Randall and his daughter Rylee last night”—Cliff gestured at the dude in sandals, also wearing a shredded AC/DC T-shirt and some scraps of denim pretending to be jeans—“some fools back up the road were taking pot shots at him, so Roy and I got involved.”

  The youngest kid, a pale, brown-haired girl about ten whose dress consisted more of duct tape than fabric, hugged Randall while smiling adoringly up at Roy and Cliff.

  “Please tell me your last name ain’t ‘Flagg,’” said Deacon, chuckling.

  “No sir. Randall Greene.” He laughed.

  Roy gestured at the people. “Evergreen’s expanding again. Randall led us back up into the hills where he and these folks had been living rough.”

  “Real rough,” whispered Logan.

  Cliff eyed the baby in Logan’s arms. “Dammit. We weren’t gone that long. You two aren’t wasting any time, huh?”

  Harper blushed so hard she couldn’t speak.

  “Uhh…” Logan laughed. “We found him in a house.”

  Leigh pointed back over her shoulder. “We ran into a little trouble by a bend in the road a ways back. Probably those same guys who gave you trouble. Looked like they’d been in a shootout already.”

  “Aww hell.” Cliff spat to the side. “I told ya we should’ve cleaned ’em out. Now, we’re going to have to go deal with them.”

  Roy gestured at the girl whose dark brown hair almost reached her ankles. “We had a kid with us.”

  “Yeah, I know, but.” Cliff pointed at Madison. “So did they.”

  “Uhh, pretty sure we already dealt with them.” Harper exhaled hard. “I did see them before they could spring the ambush. A piece of 5.56 brass on the road gave it away.”

  “Idiots,” muttered Cliff. “What are you doing out here?”

  Harper took a deep breath, bracing for the scolding. “You didn’t come back by morn—”

  “I was talking to you, little lady.” Cliff gestured at Madison.

  “Umm. I demanded to go, not thinking Harp would say yes. Then, when she did, I guess I was dumb and went. It wasn’t fair to Harp, and I won’t do it again until I’m older. And…” Madison flung herself into a hug. “I was really worried about our Dad.”

  Cliff wrapped one arm around her, scratching at his eyebrow with his other hand. “Surprised you didn’t bring Jon and Lore, too.”

  “Ehh.” Harper winced. “I wasn’t planning on bringing any of them. She kinda followed me away from the farm.”

  “Carrie’s looking after them, and Jon doesn’t have my mental issues.” Madison clamp-hugged Harper. “I’m super clingy and needy.” After a few seconds, she laughed, announcing she meant it as a joke.

  Roy introduced the others. Kip West, a prematurely grey-haired man in his early thirties, appeared to be the father of Tristan. The woman, Krystal Tucker, looked pretty young, not far past twenty, and didn’t resemble any of the children. The three adults had collectively adopted Allie (the blonde girl), Rylee, and Elliot who all thought of both Randall and Kip as ‘Dad’ and Krystal as Mom despite being only about ten years older than them.

  Gee, that feels familiar. Harper mentally hugged Lorelei.

  “We decided to head on back and give them an escort to Evergreen,” said Cliff.
“Sorry for not calling to let you know we’d be late. Can’t get any cell signal out here.”

  Harper chuckled.

  “Faster to double back the way you’ve been walking,” said Roy. “This is about the one-third point, distance wise.”

  “Works for me. The faster we get home, the better.” Harper made an ‘after you’ gesture at Cliff and Roy, relieved to no longer feel responsible for everyone’s safety.

  Madison wasted no time before talking to the other kids about what Evergreen would be like. Allie, Rylee, Tristan, and Elliot shared stories of sleeping out in the woods, trying to avoid bears, clinging to each other to get through the cold winter, and eating mostly random plants, berries, and even bugs Randall and Kip thought wouldn’t kill anyone along with the occasional treasure of canned goods. From the conversation, it didn’t sound as if the three adults had any romantic connections, merely working together to help keep each other alive.

  Krystal kept sneaking glances at Roy as if she had a crush on him, or maybe his police jumpsuit seemed too clean and modern to believe. Kip and Randall chatted about their eagerness to rejoin something close to civilization. Other than seeming a little quiet and fearful, the kids didn’t strike Harper as overly traumatized or feral. Given a bath, haircuts, and clothing not at the verge of disintegration, they’d appear normal. When Rylee announced it would be ‘amazing’ to go to the bathroom without having to dig a hole, Harper almost cried.

  Kids shouldn’t be as thrilled over working toilets as getting a new PlayStation for Christmas.

  At least seeing people who’d been living as uncivilized as possible not being crazed marauders gave her hope for the future of humanity. She allowed Cliff and Roy’s presence to reassure her enough to suspend hypervigilance for a few minutes and collect her emotions. Finding them alive, okay, and merely helping out some people who needed it made her feel like she overreacted, even if she had no way to know why Cliff hadn’t been home in the morning. Eventually, she accepted she did the right thing. Brushing aside the idea of freaking out over a non-issue bothered her far less than dealing with the guilt of doing nothing and he never came home.

  Better safe than sorry… our new national motto.

  19

  Dinosaur Pasta

  Days later, Harper let go of her anxiety someone would yell at her for the search party.

  No one even made a joke about her overreacting. She’d been expecting to hear complaints about leaving her patrol route undefended, risking the safety of Evergreen. Admittedly, things had been fairly calm for a while. It’s not as if the Lawless or some other large, organized gang made frequent raids. If the town suffered multiple attacks every week, she might have been more hesitant to rush off after Cliff without a stronger feeling he needed help, and she definitely wouldn’t have brought Madison.

  Harper spent most of the previous day, September first, feeling like some kind of prairie farm daughter in the kitchen with Carrie teaching her, Madison, Becca, Eva… and sorta-teaching Lorelei how to bake a cake not only from scratch but using nonstandard ingredients. The last package of boxed cake mix in the United States had probably grown legs and walked off to find a quiet cave to lair in.

  Lorelei tried to pay attention, though no one expected an easily distracted seven-year-old to become proficient at cake making from a single day, or even remember much. Carrie had one of those plastic cake protectors, which they used to keep it safe until today… September second. Renee’s birthday.

  Since her friend no doubt expected some manner of ‘event’ made of the day, Harper didn’t bother trying to surprise her, and simply informed Renee to come over directly after she finished up working on fabric. Her team had finally managed to produce useful flax cloth and a few basic children’s dresses—or tunics depending on how one looked at it. The people of Evergreen might end up looking like medieval villagers in another few years, but at least they wouldn’t go tribal. Harper considered herself fortunate not to live in a region known for hot weather. If it never became cold enough to be uncomfortable, survivors might not bother going to the effort of learning how to make clothes, living like rain forest tribes or something.

  The morning passed in routine normality. After finishing her patrol time, she picked the kids up from the farm and walked them home. Madison carried a relatively young rooster she’d gotten permission to adopt. She’d initially wanted to name him ‘Pecker’ because he had a habit of repeatedly pecking at pebbles, mistaking them for feed. However, when Harper burst out laughing, Madison realized the error of the idea and changed her mind, naming him Mr. Cluck instead. She’d probably take home another hen at some point as well, but hadn’t yet decided on which chicken to ‘save.’

  Upon arriving home, Harper made some sandwiches for lunch while Madison set Mr. Cluck out in the backyard coop with Rosie. The face she made when she sat at the table to find a chicken sandwich waiting for her almost made Harper laugh.

  “Seriously?” Madison sighed. “I just spent five minutes introducing Rosie to her new friend.”

  “If you want to swap the chicken out for jam, go ahead.” Harper gestured at the fridge. “We don’t have to use up an entire jar in one shot now… at least until the power goes out again.”

  Madison made sour faces at her plate, pondering the ‘tragedy’ of a dead chicken. “This is like eating babies.”

  “Oh, come on.” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Stop being melodramatic.”

  “What’s melon dramatic?” asked Lorelei.

  “Her.” Jonathan pointed. “Chickens aren’t babies.”

  Madison looked just like Mom when she stared at the ceiling in frustration. “Not literal babies. But I just spent all morning taking care of chickens, carrying Mr. Cluck home to be safe, and then I go inside and I’m going to eat chicken. It feels wrong… but this one’s already dead. Shouldn’t waste it. Allie said sometimes she only got to eat once in three days.”

  “Yeah.” Jonathan squirmed. “Was like that for me before Cliff found me. But I found a donut store once. Totally epic. They weren’t even too stale yet.”

  Lorelei looked up with a ‘you guys had food at all?’ expression, but didn’t say anything.

  “We all got super lucky.” Harper sat at her place. “I know you hate the idea of meat. Sorry, I should’ve given you a tomato sandwich.”

  “Dad’s right. Wolves don’t eat tomatoes. Eating meat isn’t ‘wrong’ according to nature. My problem is really with the cruel way they used to treat the animals in the big farms.” Madison sighed, then took a bite of her lunch. Once she finished chewing, she shrugged one shoulder. “I guess it’s worse to kill a chicken and waste it. Pretty stupid of me to be mad at having food because it’s not the right kind when people are starving.”

  “I was so hungry I would have even eated vegetables,” said Lorelei.

  “Eaten,” whispered Harper.

  Lorelei laughed.

  “She knows. She’s saying it on purpose to be cute so people hug her.” Jonathan smiled. “Same reason she says ‘fwea’ when she knows it’s flea.”

  “I like hugs!” Lorelei thrust her hands in the air.

  The front door opened. “Hey, it’s me,” called Darci.

  “In the kitchen,” replied Harper.

  A slightly more pregnant Darci entered, wearing a simplistic brown off-the-shoulder dress. It stayed on courtesy of a tie string at armpit level, but essentially looked like she put a skirt on way too high. It hung a bit short for Harper’s taste, but for Darci, counted as fairly modest. Elijah, the five-year-old she’d adopted, trailed in behind her. The boy looked around at everyone, no particular emotion on his face. He also looked like an actor from a medieval ren faire, wearing a man’s T-shirt like a tunic, complete with a bit of rope tied around his waist as a belt.

  “Are you dressed up as a lamp?” asked Jonathan.

  Darci gave him the finger. “It’s new. They made it here in town. I’m still going to be able to fit into it when I’m a blimp.”

&n
bsp; “Darce, by the time you’re seven months, the baby bump is going to lift the curtains away from the stage,” said Harper. “I think you’re confusing a little girl’s dress with a maternity garment.”

  “Hah. It’s not that short.” Darci ‘modeled’ the dress. “I’m not gonna get too big, am I?”

  Harper gestured at the living room. “Stuff one of the couch pillows under it.”

  “Okay.” Darci darted out.

  Elijah stood there looking at everyone.

  I wasn’t serious…

  The kids laughed.

  “Wow,” called Darci a moment later from the living room. “Yeah, this might be a bit too short for me when I become a gravitational anomaly. There’s definitely a breeze where a breeze shouldn’t be.”

  “I think the idea is you get a bigger dress when you need it. That one’s for early pregnancy.” Harper laughed.

  The math finally clicked in Madison’s head; she nearly choked on her mouthful of sandwich. “Holy crap! Darci is pregnant?”

  While Harper adored seeing her little sister happy, several minutes of sustained gleeful squealing almost gave her a headache. After lunch, the kids headed out to the backyard, staying close to home because they knew cake would happen soon. Lorelei collected Elijah, leading him by the hand outside. Harper hung out in the living room with Darci, mostly talking about her relationship with Lucas Garza. According to Darci, he’d been depressed over going from rich celebrity to ‘ordinary guy’ overnight. Not that he’d been a Hollywood A-list actor, but he had like twenty million or so in the bank and decent residuals coming in from television reruns. She didn’t describe him as a douche who couldn’t handle not having money, more he missed the whole ‘scene’ of being an actor, getting in front of cameras, being around people, having fun with his role, and bumping into fans who recognized him. Unlike many in his position, he hadn’t lived huge or bought overly expensive cars. Also, after starring in a pirate-themed network show for several seasons, he ended up being a reasonably decent swordsman. The idea such a skill might prove useful in the real world again blew her mind.