American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man

by John L. Davis IV

  The small cab of the pickup reeked of rot and rust and old dust. Jimmy tried to stop a sneeze from the puff of dust that erupted when he fell in and shut the door without luck. Jimmy sneezed and passed out.

  When he woke the first thing he noticed was that his pants were wet. “Pissed myself. Son of a bitch.” His tongue felt heavy and he slurred his words. Then he noticed the sun dipping toward the horizon. He had been passed out in the truck for most of the daylight hours.

  He dripped greasy sweat, his soaked bandages a constant burning in his chest and around his ear. Raising his head with care he could see the house and the zombie horde about twenty yards away. “I should be dead already,” he thought. “Find a way,” he slurred, and opened the door, leaving it open behind him as he crawled from the rust-eaten truck.

  He started out at a slow, limping trot, not looking back to see if the horde was aware of him. Jimmy pushed on, unable to find the rage that had driven him, seeing only the faces of his wife and daughters, reaching out occasionally as if they stood before him.

  “Find a way,” he murmured softly, “find a way.”

  Chapter 31

  “I vaguely remember finding a bike. The tires were flat, but I rode it anyway. Got going down a hill pretty fast, woke up next to a tree a while later. Started walking again, couldn’t lift my arm after that.”

  “Your shoulder was out of socket. You probably hit the tree pretty damn hard,” Jan told him. “May be what happened to your face, too.”

  “Nah, his face has always been that ugly,” Mike said. He imagined no one saw him wipe away tears.

  Jimmy smiled up at his friend, “Still prettier than you, Mikey.”

  A shared, but brief laugh went around the room.

  Rick, standing near the open door took a step forward. “Hey, uhh, Jimmy, listen, buddy, I just wanted to say…”

  “Rick, there’s nothing to say man, so don’t worry about it. Shit happened, it’s done, and no one is to blame for anything.” Jimmy looked into Rick’s eyes, ensuring that Rick saw beyond the words to realize that everything was good.

  Rick nodded, saying nothing as he stepped back, leaning against the wall once more.

  “Ok, everyone, it’s time to let the man rest. Jimmy, you should be able to get out of here tomorrow.”

  “Thanks Jan, I need to do something other than lay here.”

  Jan smiled, saying, “I understand, you can lay elsewhere, because that’s the only thing you’ll be allowed to do for several more days.” Jimmy opened his mouth to speak and Jan cut him off. “Uh uh, I don’t want to hear it. If I have to I’ll have someone who can hold you down sit with you.”

  “Don’t worry, Jan, Jimmy won’t be doing much of anything for a while.” Tamara gave Jimmy the smile that told him he would be following orders whether he liked it or not.

  “That’s exactly right, babe.”

  People began to slip quietly from the cramped room, nodding at Jimmy or Tamara as they left. Though the pall that had fallen over the camp had not lifted entirely, Jimmy’s return helped restore some amount of hope to the survivors.

  Once the room was clear except for Jan, Tam, and Jimmy, Jan gave Jimmy a stern look. “Fully healing up is going to take a while, and you need to let that happen, understand? No going all gung-ho and trying to do more than you’re able, which is very damn little right now Jimmy. Laying there I know you’re feeling better, but stand up, walk a few feet, you’ll be exhausted.”

  Jimmy thought carefully before replying. “I know, Jan. I’m home, and to be honest, I don’t want to do anything other than spend some time with my wife and the kids.”

  “Good, that’s what I want to hear. I’ll tell you, I don’t know how you’re still alive, Jimmy, I really don’t. It’s beyond me how you got through all that and made it back here. You weren’t bitten, which is amazing all on its own. You’ve proven that it’s their saliva or blood that infects someone though, not just a scratch. Either that or you’re immune to whatever sickness they carry. Your back looks like you were attacked by a werewolf.”

  “A werewolf?” Jimmy questioned.

  “Yes, a werewolf,” Jan said, smiling. “You’ve gone through hell, let yourself heal.”

  Jimmy’s face drew in tight, several pains shooting from various places all at once.

  “You ok, Jimmy?”

  “I’m fine, babe, just hurting a bit.”

  Jan walked around Jimmy and Tam, picking up a syringe and a small glass bottle. “Tam, go spend some time with the girls, Jimmy’s going back to sleep for a while.” She inserted the needle into the IV injection port, filling the cannula with something that seemed to hit Jimmy quickly, causing his eyelids to flutter and close.

  “I’m good, Tam. See you and the girls in the morning.” Tamara leaned over Jimmy, leaving a soft quick kiss before she left.

  Jimmy continued to fight sleep for several minutes. Sleep meant dreams, and his dreams terrified him.

  “Jan?”

  “Jimmy, go to sleep, let the medicine do its job.”

  “You going to be here for a bit?” His voice was thick, slurred.

  “I’m not going anywhere, and if I do Anna will be here.” Jan stood beside him, hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re ok now, Jimmy, you’re home.”

  “Home… found a way…” he said softly, voice fading into sleep even as he spoke.

  “Yes you did, Jimmy Mitchell, you found a way,” Jan said, as she pulled a blanket up over Jimmy’s chest.

  She stretched out on her cot in the back of the room, a faint smile on her face. Tomorrow was another day, one of healing, not just for Jimmy, but for the group as a whole.

  Chapter 32

  The people of the Camp Oko Tipi/Saverton settlement woke early each day, working hard to prepare for the coming winter. The last of the garden produce had been canned and put away, as well as several kinds of meat. Fish were caught and salted or dried. Deer was made into jerky in the little smokehouse.

  While Jimmy rested and life continued forward for everyone, Alex took his bow out, getting several turkeys and another deer. The food they had killed, or grown and preserved would last them through the winter months, including the prepackaged food-stuffs that remained from their New London scavenging.

  “How many more of these are there,” Mike asked, carrying a large wooden crate packed full of canned vegetables.

  “This is it,” Rick replied, hefting a box of jarred pickles.

  Down the steps in the basement of the house once owned by Jonathan and Martha Cambrey, Mike set his crate on the floor and placed a hand on his back, arching and twisting to relieve the ache.

  “Really did a number on your back, huh?”

  Mike grunted, “Yeah, I did. Jan thinks it will heal up on its own as long as I take it easy, but I don’t know. Have trouble sleeping at night sometimes, it gets to hurting so bad.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re taking it easy,” Rick said as he placed his box on the floor next to Mike’s.

  “Yeah, well, shit needs done, man. I can’t just sit around and watch.”

  Rick nodded, thinking he would do the exact same thing. Looking around the large cool basement he said to Mike, “Enough here to feed an army.”

  “Gardens did well this year. Lisa, Becca and some of the kids are working on harvesting seeds, drying them, and getting those in jars to bring down here.”

  “You think we could plant wheat next year? We’re all going to want bread. And beer, can’t forget that.”

  Mike thought for a moment before answering. “I don’t see why not. We’ll have to go back to the old way of harvesting it by hand.”

  “Bringing in the sheaves,” Rick said with a smile.

  “Oh man, don’t you dare start singing.”

  Rick opened his mouth and threw his head back, as if he were going to belt out the old gospel hymn and started laughing. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Mike. People’s ears tend to bleed when I sing.” Rick clapped Mike on the s
houlder as he headed back up the steps. “Come on, let’s see if there’s any beer left.”

  “Good idea, we can take one up to Jimmy, see how he’s doing.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  ****

  Gordy waved to Mike and Rick as they walked by, several beers in hand. “A beer doesn’t sound like a bad idea. It’s after lunch time anyway.”

  “Beer on top of your painkiller probably isn’t a good idea.”

  “Your mother tell you to babysit me?”

  Dean smiled, “Maybe.”

  “Well, don’t worry, I’ve been cutting back on the painkillers. We may need them later for something more serious. Besides, I have to get used to living with this pain.”

  “That’s the same thing Lynn, Anna and I used to say, Dad.” Dean danced out of the way, laughing, as Gordy took a half-hearted swing at him.

  “After everything you can still be a punk,” Gordy said with a grin.

  “So there’s nothing at all that can be done for your knee?”

  “Not without surgery, from what your mom tells me.”

  “The guys brought all those supplies back; shouldn’t she be able to do it?”

  “Knee surgery is pretty specific, there are things she would have to implant to fix it, and we don’t have those.”

  “Well, damn, Dad, that sucks.”

  “Yes, it does. No more going out with groups for me.”

  Gordy took slow, careful steps going down the slope to the house Rick and Mike had just left.

  “When I was laid up, right after we got back,” Dean said over his shoulder to Gordy, who was several steps behind, “I had to stay busy, do something to keep my mind off of…what had happened.”

  The two men rounded the corner of the house and Dean angled out toward the yard, in front of the steps. Gordy followed, standing beside his son, staring up at the hand carved wooden sign hung from the eave above the steps up to the porch. The oak plank had been sanded smooth, and stained a smooth light cherry color after being carved deeply with the words Cambrey House.

  “Jonathan would be proud.”

  Dean smiled, “Good, I’m glad you think so. You want a cup of coffee?”

  “Sounds good. I need to sit down for a few minutes anyway.”

  Dean prepared a pot of coffee on the stove, setting out cups, sugar, and some cream Daniel had brought up earlier in the morning.

  “We really need to figure out some way to refrigerate food,” Gordy said absently.

  Dean walked into the living room, returning with a stick in his hand. Gordy looked from the stick to his son and back. “What’s this?”

  “Becca and I thought you had to be getting pretty damn tired of that crutch, so we made this for you.”

  Gordy took the stick from Dean, weighing it in his hand. The turned hickory shone beautifully in the natural light coming through large windows, the lacquered wood cool to the touch. He ran his fingers along the fine grooves and grain left in the angled knob of the handle, feeling the nature of the wood come through. Tears gleamed in his eyes when he looked back up to his son. “It’s beautiful,” Gordy said, forcing the words through his tightening throat.

  Dean nodded; proud of the work he and Becca had done, happy that his father was so moved by the gesture.

  They spoke quietly for a while, spending time in this moment, all other thoughts pushed to the side for a time.

  “You really like the sign?”

  “Yeah, I do. You do some pretty good work. It makes me think; maybe we could put some signs out guiding people here, instead of going out there looking. Once we have enough people to field a strong force, then going out wouldn’t be such a risk.”

  “True, but signs would lead anyone here, good or bad.”

  Gordy nodded. “You’re right about that. I think we could handle defending our gate though, a lot easier than taking on whatever’s out there waiting for us.”

  “You should bring it up with the council, see what they say.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

  Dean stood up, stretching, arching his shoulders, careful not to pull the stitches still in his side. “I’m going to go get Becca and go fishing for a while, you want to join us?”

  “No, you two go. I want to see how things are moving on the last bit of the wall they’re putting up.”

  Gordy pushed up from his chair with the cane Dean had given him, moving carefully to the door he watched his son walk away, toward the house he shared with Becca. He was overcome with pride for the man his son had become.

  Chapter 33

  “I volunteered to take breakfast down to the front gate,” Tamara said as she bent to give Jimmy a kiss. “If you need something the girls will probably fight over who gets it for you. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Nodding, Jimmy said, “No worries, babe, we’re all good here, right girls?” Miranda and Ashley both chimed in with a cheerful “Yep!”

  “Ok, then, I’ll see you all later.”

  Jimmy swatted Tamara’s bottom as she turned away, laughing.

  “Watch it mister, you have a lot of healing to do before you start getting frisky.”

  “Jan says I should be up and getting back into things in a few days.”

  “Well, we can talk then. Gotta go, love you guys.” Tam blew her family a kiss as she closed the door.

  At the main hall, Evie was serving up fresh eggs from chickens they had found running loose at a farmhouse several miles away.

  Tam took a plate of eggs, oatmeal, and toast made from homemade bread toasted on a flat griddle over the fire. Tam moaned around a mouthful of the steaming scrambled eggs. “Oh my goodness I forgot how great fresh eggs tasted.”

  “Well you may be eating a lot of them,” Evie said. “Those chickens are producing like crazy. Wish we had a refrigerator or something, so they would keep a little longer at least.”

  “Mineral oil,” Tam said.

  Evie gave Tam a puzzled look. “What?”

  “Yeah, you can cover eggs in mineral oil and they last a really long time, especially if you keep them in a cool place. I can’t remember for sure, but I think you’re supposed to turn the eggs every few weeks, flip them over, something to do with the yolk.”

  “And just where did you hear this?”

  “One of those preparedness websites. Jimmy read the article, had me read it too. You might want to ask him, he’ll remember more about it than I do.”

  “Ok, I’ll do that, thanks Tam.”

  Tamara took a plastic bag from Evie, the breakfast for Calvin and Rick at the front gate. “See you later Evie,” she said as she walked out the door.

  “Morning, Mike.”

  “Morning, Tam. Is that for the guys at the gate?” Mike asked, nodding at the bag dangling from her hand.

  “Yeah, I volunteered to take breakfast down to them this morning.”

  “I’m going to run a patrol. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride down.”

  During the short ride to the gate Mike asked questions about Jimmy’s recovery, and how the kids were doing. Tam answered succinctly. Though Jimmy was home and alive a small part of her still felt the way she had on that first day, that all of the men were to blame for what had happened. Despite what Jimmy said, how no one was at fault, she was finding it difficult to let go of those feelings.

  Tam was lost in thought, gazing out the side window when Mike said, “Looks like we have company today.” Just then she heard the pealing of the bell as it rang the signal for arrivals at the gate.

  Snapping her eyes to the front, toward the far end of the road where E met 79, she could see the silhouettes of a small group of people, maybe seven or eight in all, though it was difficult to tell just yet.

  “Uhh, should we be worried?” She asked.

  Pulling up near the tiny guard shack Mike said, “Always.”

  Rick and Calvin met them outside and Tamara passed the bag of food to Cal, who set it just inside the shack.

  “Nine peo
ple,” Rick told them. “Five men, three women, and one child.”

  “Any weapons?” Mike asked, slipping the rifle from his shoulder.

  “I could see a couple of hunting rifles and shotguns, one AR-15, some visible side-arms.”

  Mike tugged a small pair of binoculars from a cargo pocket, watching the approaching group for a moment, confirming Rick’s initial estimate.

  “Tam, you wait in the truck, or over at the house.”

  “Screw that, Rick. I’m staying right here,” she said as she placed a hand on the 9mm on her hip.

  Rick studied her closely for a second, quickly realizing that arguing would be futile. “Fine, but if Jimmy asks it’s on you.”

  Tamara scowled in response. Behind them she could hear a vehicle approaching. A quick glance showed her the De Soto carrying Gordy, Lisa and Alex. Gordy leaned on a new walking stick; Lisa and Alex were both armed with rifles.

  The three exited the car to stand with those waiting at the gate. Minutes later the group came close and everyone on the Saverton side spread out in a wide semicircle with Gordy in the middle.

  “That’s far enough,” Gordy called when the group drew within ten feet of the hole the cattle-guard bridge would span when lowered. All of the men with rifles kept them in the low ready position, prepared for anything. Gordy prayed silently that everyone stayed calm and this didn’t turn out as ugly as so many of their meetings with other survivors. “What can we do for you?”

  A thick-shouldered man of medium height stepped forward, his heavy, matted beard jiggling as he spoke. “Do you have food or water? Maybe someplace we could rest? We don’t have much to trade but you’d be welcome to it if we could just come in and rest for a while.”

  “Where did you all come from?” Gordy asked.

  “Some of us are from Louisiana, one from Clarksville, several more we’ve just picked up along the way. Can we come in; we’re all exhausted and starving. We have a kid here, he’s only nine.”

  “Listen, you’ll have to excuse us, but we tend to be cautious about who we let in.”