Patrick grinned at her. “Dumped it. Ha, you made a pun. Just pour it in, kiddo. It'll toughen you up.”
“Yeah, but it pisses me off,” the girl said with a smirk. “Why do we need to save it, anyway?”
It was Kell who answered. “The solid waste we compost, which you probably don't want to think about very hard. The liquid we distill into several things, including ammonia.”
“Still really gross,” the girl said before walking off with the empty buckets.
“Kids these days,” Patrick said. “Oh, they'll stab a dead guy in the face, but ask them to pour out a bucket of crap and all they give you is grief.”
Kell smiled. “Is she yours? I can't help noticing she's mixed, and you're not. Blonde guy with blue eyes...”
“Most people call us Aryan, thank you very much,” Patrick said, laughing. “But no. She's my niece. Got another one around here somewhere.”
Jennifer's smiling baby face flashed through his head. “You're very lucky to have her,” Kell said, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. Not so much at the memory of his daughter, but by the way time was etching her features away.
“Luck, nothing,” Patrick replied. “I went AWOL and hunted for them. Nearly died trying to bring them back. Lost my parents and sister in the whole deal. Cost me a hand.”
The distant darkness on the big man's face was made worse by the loss of his normal cheerfulness. “I'm sorry,” Kell said. “Worth it, though, wasn't it?”
The cloud on Patrick's face blew away as if it had never been. “Fuck yeah, man. I'd have given the other hand too.” Taking up the spear, he eyed it carefully. “So how long until you need this? Any bells and whistles you want me to add?”
“No,” Kell said. “Just sharpen her up, make sure I won't break the tip. I like a smooth in an out when I work.”
Patrick burst into laughter. “Don't we all, brother.”
Six hours of making rounds in the wagon later turned into the daily four hours in the kitchen. This was a job he neither liked nor hated. It involved isolated work in the mess hall, doing one of a dozen duties over and over again.
After that came an hour of combat practice, though it wasn't the sort he did with Kate. New Haven had two years of strategies, tactics, and practical experience fighting the undead in every way imaginable. That, combined with the common survival methods and ways to communicate and move, left Kell with a huge volume of information to absorb before the trip. After some convincing, Will had relented and allowed Kell three companions rather than two. One was Kate, and while he'd have wished to take Laura or even Andrea given both already knew his identity and the trip would risk exposing the group to the truth, neither would be cleared to go by the doctors. Andrea had no expectation she'd be healthy enough, and seemed relieved she didn't have to make the choice.
Laura's x-rays, taken with a portable digital machine someone had hauled into the clinic ages ago, showed a fine spiderweb of fractures in her skull from the bullet fragment. Not enough to permanently damage her, and small—only about the size of a dime. Phil, Evans, and Gabrielle were united; no combat duty until the cracks healed.
Which was how Kell found himself standing next to Scotty Atkinson and Chris Vernick, two of the more trusted people from the Unit. It still made him shake his head to think of their little group of migrants by that name, but in his absence they'd all began using it to refer to themselves.
“Pay attention!” Kate said as she smacked a police baton against Kell's shield. “You're going to get your face ripped off if you aren't careful.”
“Will not,” Kell said. “And why aren't you right here with us? Seems unfair you should get to teach, you've only been here a few hours longer than I have, really.”
Kate smiled the wicked grin she used before handing out a severe beating. “I haven't been on light duty, sonny Jim. I'm as up to speed as I need to be. Now pay attention!”
Attackers came at them from three sides. The trick was to learn how to react on the fly to simple commands. “Me,” Kell grunted, ordering Scotty and Chris to step back, the line formed by the three of them rotating on its axis as he moved forward. The exercise was everything Kell hated about learning to fight; deliberate, coordinated, and meticulous.
He would have taken a pass if there were any other way, but Will categorically refused to let them go with the scouts without at least a basic understanding of the unit fighting New Haven citizens all learned. Out of the corner of his eye, another group trained with the makeshift shields, though they were already up to practicing on zombies rather than the living opponents his own team faced.
The distraction put his shield slightly out of position, earning him a slap across the face by a gauntleted hand. As slaps went it could have been worse, but it still rattled his jaw. Lifting the shield back into position, he tried to keep up with the others. It was much harder than it looked, watching the other groups practice. Timing his steps with Chris and Scotty was the least of it; the difference in their heights alone made the exercise torture on his arms and back. He took three more whacks before finally finding the rhythm, but Kate's disgusted sigh told him it wasn't near her standard.
Their hour ended with great relief on the part of the men, along with a healthy dollop of humility. Used to picking things up quickly, Kell flushed with embarrassment that children on the training ground worked together far better than three adult men.
The four of them—Kate was done for the day as well—walked back through the east gate and into the expansion. Past the mobile homes and gypsy tents, through a forest of freshly raised beams meant to support some new structure, and up the hill to their little corner. As always, fires burned, lighting an increasingly permanent panorama. There was nothing obvious to it, no building foundations or gardens in the slice of land set aside for their group, but many small things added up. A half-built table, woodworking tools casually set aside for dinner. A stone grill eight feet wide was already in operation, put together by half a dozen of the Unit over a vigorous seven hour marathon. It was simple but large, and a source of pride since enough food could cook at once to feed them all twice over.
There was none of the chaos evident in the first few days. Everything was more organized, from the arrangement of tents to the way group interactions and private time worked. The area was large, but shelter was thin on the ground, leading to a few scuffles. The man walking down the hill to greet Kell was responsible for organizing the group.
Dan Rickwalder had an eye for that kind of thing. He was smart, observant, and, crucially, infinitely patient. Without him to take up the slack as Kate worked and Laura sulked, they might have fallen into Lord of the Flies territory. So far no one was looking for a conch.
Chris and Scotty chatted with Dan, Kate ran off, and Kell followed the smell of food. He had eaten while working in the mess hall, but the rabbit stew constantly being brewed for the masses grew boring very quickly. Walking up to the grill, he peered over the shoulder of one of the men cooking.
“What do you have there, Drew?” Kell asked.
Drew stepped to the side, still flipping meat. “Deer steaks, some potatoes, and if you can believe it, fresh corn.”
Stomach knotting with hunger and mouth watering, Kell grinned. “Yes, please. Where did you get corn this time of year?”
The other man nodded toward the southern end of the expansion, where three mobile homes butted against each other end-to-end. “Turns out those are greenhouses. Had no idea until I took a walk by there this morning. Guy that runs them must have spent a lot of time modifying those things. Can't tell from here, but the roofs are mostly gone. I traded him for a basket of corn.”
“What did you have to give him? You paid for it, man. I don't want to impose...”
Drew smiled boyishly. “Hard to believe a box of old Playboys would be useful, but the guy was happy to make a deal.”
Kell laughed, taking the plate Drew made for him. “Nice. A little creepy, but nice.” He turned to leave, but
Drew stopped him.
“Here, have a little butter for your corn,” Drew said as he slid a pat onto Kell's plate. “I can't believe all the stuff they have here. Back home it was nice to just have food.”
“They got an earlier start on building a home,” Kell said. “Plus all the farms around here, you know. Cows for milk means butter, cheese, you name it.”
Drew began making plates for the other people waiting. For a second Kell felt bad when he realized he'd cut in line, but then the smell of venison lightly seasoned with garlic salt took over and he had no attention for anything else. Had he not been so distracted by hunger, Kell would have been interested to note how the rest of the people waiting deferred to him. They had only begun to approach after getting his food.
As it was, he didn't see it. Kell moseyed over to the folding steps leading into the RV and sat in the open doorway, plate balanced on his knees. People-watching as he ate, Kell took in the small community within a community, made up entirely of his neighbors and volunteers from up north. The few children in the group sat together on a worn blanket, gabbing at each other in the rapid, excited patois reserved for them. A rotating cast of adults eyed them, a habit long ingrained from months and years living out in the woods with no protective wall.
Some might say it was an unnecessary habit at this point, but one of the more impressive aspects of their new home was how strongly the citizens encouraged vigilance. Other places with walls as strong might allow the population to relax behind them. Not so, here. Enough accidents and mistakes over time taught the value of never taking safety for granted. Not only did guards patrol the walls themselves and sentries watch from stationary positions, but the occasional patrol walked by each of the isolated camps out in the mostly empty expansion.
Drew waved one such patrol down, offering them his cooking and asking the three men to stop by the guard posts on the wall to share.
“Move your ass, stretch,” a voice said from behind him. Kell craned his neck back to see Laura, bottles in hand. They were beaded with condensation, still cold.
“Laura,” Kell said. “Is that beer?”
She held a bottle out to him. “Yes, K, this is beer. It's home brewed. That guy Will pointed out to us the other day, Dave? He was the one Will said was in charge of all the construction around here. He also brews his own beer.”
Kell took the brown bottle gingerly, top already removed. “How'd you score these? Part of Drew's deal with the corn?”
“Nah, the guy just came by with a big cooler full of them. Turns out beer is now a commodity. We,” she said, waving a hand to indicate New Haven in general as she sat next to him, “even trade out kegs to other communities. More than enough left over for us. Cheers.”
They clinked bottles, sipping on a surprisingly not terrible brew.
“It's a little strange,” Kell said after a while.
“What's that?” Laura asked.
He nodded to the friends and acquaintances spread around them. The kids were starting to get rowdy, chasing each other in the dimming light. A few adults were deep into their cups, half-empty bottles of bourbon dangling from loose fingers. Drew was handing out sandwiches, apparently trying his luck with homemade barbecue. Two men arm-wrestled. A group of women cared for their weapons, idly gossiping as they ran whetstones over blades.
“How normal this is,” he said. “We could be on a camping trip, not a care in the world.”
Laura was quiet for a long time, watching.
“Know what I think?” she asked. Kell looked at her, curious. “I think when you get down to it, people want to be good to each other. I saw it in the service. People can be terrible, or just jerks, or selfish, or all three. But man, you watch long enough and you get to see some pretty amazing things. Someone walks up that hill toward us, all they see is a bunch of folks relaxing in front of their fires, having dinner and some drinks.”
She leaned into him, pointing. “I see two men who barely knew each other a few weeks ago telling stories about how they met their wives. Over there, a couple fellas who might have already been fighting are engaging in a friendly game. Here, women bonding over boring work,” she said, finally pointing at the children roughhousing by the main fire. “There you have instant best friends, inseparable, because they don't know any different. You ever notice that? Put kids together for any length of time, just to play, and they stick with each other.”
Her voice caught, and she fell silent.
“I've never heard you talk that way before,” he said lamely. “You're always so...”
“Cold?” she supplied.
“Businesslike,” he corrected. “The only observations you make are tactical.”
Laura shrugged. “Before, it's always been a fight. I lost my husband, was captured, then all that time trying to keep you safe, living away from people. I'm just happy we made it here. I think this place will be good for us.”
“I think you may be right.”
Laura sniffed and wiped an eye, and he pretended not to notice. “One of the guys I served with said something to me once, and I've never forgotten it. One of those offhand comments that burn into your brain so you can never forget. He said, 'Friends are people who laugh at the same things you do. Family are the ones who hurt with you.'”
She put an arm around his waist, hugging him tight. “You're leaving without me. Again. Don't get yourself hurt.”
“I won't,” he said, and meant it.
They watched the sun set together.
Nineteen
“One more time,” Will said.
With a sigh, Kell repeated their travel plan verbatim. When he was through, Chris, Kate, and Scotty did the whole thing over again as well.
“I'd still rather not take a shield,” Kell said. Will frowned, but Kell cut in before the man could work up a head of steam. “It's made out of a stop sign, Will. I know it works, but we're not nearly as good as your people and I look stupid carrying the thing around.”
“First of all, it's not 'your people', K. You are my people now, too. Second, I can't make you use the thing when you leave, but you aren't getting in that car without it. End of discussion.”
Chris and Scotty blanched in embarrassment as he was shot down, though Kate actually smiled and gave Will a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I like you,” she said.
Dawn was still fresh, the car was packed, and Kell was anxious to get on the road. The trio of scouts leading the trip would meet Kell and the others at the north gate. It was strange being back in armor, doubly because it wasn't a mixture of homemade pieces like his last set. New Haven had a dedicated shop for the stuff, and what Kell wore was designed from the ground up for the new world. Better still, it looked mostly like regular clothes, if a little bulky.
His spear was sharp again, if a little shorter. Patrick and his apprentices hadn't wasted time once they knew he was on a deadline. Their car sat open, a compact SUV whose cargo space held a huge extended gas tank. Kell secured the spear onto the rack on the roof using twists of wire given to him by Patrick, then threw his pack in with the rest of their supplies.
Will moved in close as Kell shut the hatch. “Talk to me for a minute,” he said, leading Kell a short distance away.
“What's up?”
Will took a deep breath. “Look, the scouts know where the research station is because I sent them there, but they didn't go in. Hell, didn't even get close. They haven't seen any paperwork linking you to the plague. They're in the dark.”
“Okay,” Kell said, not seeing his point.
“What I'm saying is that when you get there, the scouts will head south to gather information. They won't be going inside. Your friends, on the other hand, will. Do they know who you are?”
Shaking his head, Kell said, “No. Just Kate.”
“You might want to tell them. Better to hear it from you, you know?”
Kell shook his head again. “I don't know, man. I can't know how they'll react. It's...”
“Scary
?” Will supplied. “They're putting their lives in your hands, and yours in theirs. From what I hear it won't be the first time for any of you. Trust is hard to come by nowadays, but don't you think your friends will care more about who you are rather than who you were?”
A question he was haunted by every day of his life.
Just inside the north gate, three women stood next to three motorcycles. The bikes bore the hallmarks of every long-range vehicle in New Haven; extended fuel tanks, racks for weapons, and additional armor. Unlike the SUV shared by Kell and the rest, the bikes only had armor on the front. Not enough to limit visibility, but sufficient to duck behind in a pinch.
All three women approached the SUV. Kell and Kate had already met them, but only briefly. They stayed in New Haven so little it was mostly luck he'd had even a short encounter. The tallest of the three, a statuesque brunette almost six feet tall, was clearly the leader. She motioned for Kate—the driver—to roll the windows down.
“Hi,” she said to the car, looking at each of them. “I'm Nicole Fraser. Until we get to where we're going, I'm the boss. This is Juel Vasil,” she said, pointing to a blonde with a pixie cut. “And that's Emilia Jacob,” she finished, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at the third, a younger woman with olive skin and jet black hair wreathing her face in waves. “Either of them give you an order, you follow it. If we pull off the road, you do too. We should have clear roads at least into Indiana, hopefully until our first refill.”
Scotty raised a hand hesitantly. Nicole smiled. “I'm not your teacher. You have a question, just ask.”
“Uh, okay. But what if we don't? Have clear roads, I mean.”
Nicole squinted at him. “You're asking if we fight. Only if we have to. Our objective is to get you where you're going fast and safe. Juel is going to be your guidepost, okay? It's likely Emilia and I will have to split off from the group from time to time. Juel will stay with you. She knows the back roads and safe places just as well. If we get into a fight or get split up, just remember to follow the girl in the red helmet.”
The Fall (Book 2): Dead Will Rise Page 19