Hell's Children: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by John L. Monk

  Miguel backed up. “I’m sorry, I’m just saying … we gotta use our heads. I mean … I like Jack and all, but …”

  Now it was Greg’s turn. “But what? We took you in, fed you, taught you to shoot. You’re as safe with us as with them. Safer, because we actually plan things out. You should have stayed with Blaze, you like killing and stealing so much.”

  After that, Miguel stayed quiet, his face blank while the others fleshed out the plan.

  The next day was spent butchering and preserving. If Jack’s plan worked, they wouldn’t have to find somewhere new. Then they could grow their own food one day, supplementing it with less beef while they built up the herd—add more deer and other game animals, like squirrels and turkeys. Maybe those rabbits they’d talked about raising. Lots of possibilities.

  “Before you leave on your dumb stunt,” Lisa said, “who’s going to finish the butchering?”

  There were still three cows to go, and Jack’s head was killing him. He wouldn’t be able to help.

  Jack said, “Miguel. He knows what to do. We need people to step in for these types of things. Steve bashing me in the head proved that.” He smiled to show he wasn’t mad.

  Steve’s guilty expression cracked into a nervous smile.

  “It’s too hard for one person,” Miguel said. “Or even two people.”

  Greg said, “I’ll help. But I’m not good around blood.”

  Jack shook his head. “I have plans for you, Greg. You’re off the hook.”

  His friend frowned at that, but didn’t reply.

  Freida said, “I’ll help you, Miguel. I got a strong stomach.”

  “Me too,” Lisa said.

  “Just be extra careful about the gall bladder,” Jack said. Then, blushing a little, he added, “And, the uh … poop area.”

  Carla snorted.

  “You and Tony defend the road. One of you watches from the vans, the other sits in a car looking the other way. No sleeping.”

  Steve said, “What about me?”

  Greg patted his arm calmly. “Question not the Chosen One, young warrior. Even the smallest among us play a part in His plan.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Jack said, and told them both what he wanted.

  27

  Jack’s head still hurt, and he felt achy and sore from resting all day back at the cabins. In retrospect, he’d pushed himself too hard with the attack on Carter. Still, he felt guilty, knowing Lisa and the others were at the farm finishing the job he’d started. These days, it seemed guilt was his constant companion. Now he felt it for risking his life on what had seemed like such a good idea the night before.

  Somewhere near the Centreville exit, Jack slowed his car to a crawl. The way ahead was blocked with vehicles on both sides of the highway. The roadblock hadn’t been there when they’d first left for Big Timber in the school bus. And it wasn’t there when Lisa and Greg had taken that second trip to the library, or they would have told him.

  On the eastbound approach, there was a fire going. The flames flickered off chrome and glass, casting huge shadows on the noise barrier along the side of the road. With his lights out and driving as slow as he was, Jack figured whoever had started it couldn’t see him.

  He turned on the CB and flipped through various channels listening for chatter and not finding any. Either the Pyros weren’t using CBs or it was too late and everyone sane was in bed already.

  If he backed up, he could take the Gainesville exit and maneuver his way down side roads back to 28, and from there, down into Centreville. Unless they’d blocked that way, too. Could be, but he doubted it. Much smarter to concentrate their attention on the main arteries. If this was Blaze’s doing, he probably didn’t have enough control over his people to plug every hole.

  Jack turned the car around, went back to the last exit, and found the ramp blocked by an unmanned roadblock. He pulled up to the jumble of vehicles and parked close to the others, effectively hiding the car in plain sight.

  After a quick look around, he popped the trunk and hid the keys in the undercarriage like they did with the fuel cars back at the cabins. This way, if his plan didn’t work—and he lived to tell the tale—he could get home with everything he’d brought with him.

  Jack examined the contents of the trunk using his LED flashlight. Thanks to Lisa, it was piled high with bags of potato chips, candy bars, cookies, pastries, and other junk—all the foods they’d decided only to eat on special occasions for fear of tooth decay.

  It was Miguel who’d spawned the idea. Their cowardly new friend hadn’t been in the Pyros for very long, but during his time, he’d learned Blaze had a sweet tooth. Jack was hoping the murderous redhead would love the hoard they’d gathered. Lisa had thrown in some of their precious canned food, too, to round it out. That and one other thing: pain medication.

  Without the drugs, he didn’t know how he would have gotten through those first few days after getting smashed in the head. While on them, he’d never felt better in his life. Not just physically, but emotionally. Maybe his dosage had been too high, but for the first time since the Sickness, he’d felt truly happy—giddy, even.

  Miguel had said Blaze asked about pills when they’d first met. If candy and canned food wasn’t enough to entice the murderous leader and his gang, pills might be just the nudge he needed.

  The question was: how much to carry in? A dilemma, really. Too much and someone might try to take it. Too little and he wouldn’t merit an audience with Blaze.

  Ultimately, he brought half the drugs, ten chocolate bars, six packages of cookies, three boxes of individually wrapped brownies, five cans of chili, and five cans of corn. Then, after double-checking his pack and ensuring the .40 caliber was loaded and ready, he set off walking back toward the new roadblock.

  It was just after ten o’clock in the evening when Jack fell in sight of the wall of cars. The car on the left shoulder was parked in front of the others, forming a gate that could be rolled in and out. There was nobody around, and the fire from earlier had died down to dull embers, flaring sporadically with each frigid gust of wind. As he got closer, he noticed the rollaway car’s windows were steamed up.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he approached it.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The car shook as whoever was inside began moving about. Then the side door flew open and a boy stumbled out clutching something shiny in his hand that could only be a gun.

  As a precaution, Jack pulled his own, but kept it lowered.

  “Easy there,” he said. “Just calm down.”

  The boy—about nine or ten—found his feet, then swung around in Jack’s direction and fired.

  Jack yelped and dove for the cover of the blockade. “Stop shooting, you idiot!”

  In response, the boy fired two more shots—somewhere—and shouted back, “You better leave me alone, kid! I’ll kill you! I’ll do it, too!”

  He didn’t know what to say that would calm the boy down, and wondered if he could slip away from the roadblock. If he ducked down low enough, maybe he could slink off in the shadow of the gully and the noise barrier. Then he’d get back in his car and figure out what to do next.

  On the other side of the roadblock, another boy’s voice said, “Joey, what are you shooting at? Who’s there?”

  “Some weirdo with a gun! He tried to kill me!”

  “What weirdo?”

  “I think he means me,” Jack called back. “I’m not a weirdo, and all I did was wake him up. Then he started shooting. What kind of roadblock is this, anyway?”

  A tense moment passed where no one said anything. Jack was about to suggest they all put their guns away when the new kid said, “Come out so I can see you.”

  “No,” Jack said. “You come out where I can see you.”

  “Fine. Joey, you started this. Put down your gun and go say hi.”

  “But Tom …”

  “Just do it.”

  Another moment passed, then the trigger-happy kid climbed over t
he hood of the rollaway car. He had long hair and a dirty face, and his hands were empty. Jack saw a big holster on his side with a pistol in it.

  “You shoot me, you’re dead,” Joey said.

  “Understood.”

  “How come I gotta put my gun away but you still got yours?”

  “You’re right,” he said, holstering it. “I’m Jack. You know, you really shouldn’t go around shooting at people.”

  “And you shouldn’t sneak up on people you don’t know!”

  Jack wondered if maybe the boy was unhinged. A second later, another boy scooted cautiously over the hood, hands in the air. A few years older than Joey, Tom seemed less jumpy and more intelligent.

  “So as you can see,” Tom said, “this is our roadblock. You have to pay us or you can’t go past.”

  “Your roadblock?”

  “Well, not mine. It belongs to the Pyros. That’s my gang. So the roadblock’s ours a little. And like I said, you gotta pay. Like I said.”

  “Like you said.”

  “Yeah. So, um … what do you got to pay with?”

  Before he could answer, Joey said, “Make him give you that gun, first of all. He ain’t allowed to have one past here anyways. Blaze said.”

  Tom grimaced and rolled his eyes. “Not like he can’t get himself another one super fast.” He looked at Jack. “Just hide it in your pack till you get down near Fairfax—that’s a city. It’s like four more exits. You should totally get a car and drive. It’s too cold out. But you need a good battery. We can trade you one if you want. Driving’s easy, just go slow at first until you learn how.”

  Joey said, “You got any food in that backpack?”

  “I do,” Jack said. “That’s actually why I’m here. Have a look.”

  Cautiously, Jack shrugged out of his backpack and tossed it across, causing Joey to flinch.

  “Would you calm down?” Tom said and snatched up the pack. Then he opened it. “Holy mother of Christmas—look at that! Pills, too. Everyone wants pills, now.”

  Jack didn’t miss the gleam in Tom’s eye at the sight of the little brown bottles. That’s why his hand was resting casually on his .40 caliber, ready to pull it if needed. He hoped he wouldn’t have to. Other than being desperate and greedy, Tom seemed okay.

  “So how much is the toll?”

  “You gotta give us everything,” Joey said. Then he giggled. “That’s the rules. Man, you sure screwed up today.”

  Tom frowned at Joey and shook his head. “Why don’t you shut up for once?” His gaze swung to Jack, who was watching them with a patient smile. “So here’s the thing, uh … Jack?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay … so here’s the thing. Blaze is sort of, uh … strict. Normally he wants everything, then he dishes it out later to whoever he likes most. Kind of like an allowance. And normally we just take a few things on our own and let people go by. Otherwise people like you would just starve or whatever. But man.” He shook his head in amazement. “This is some great stuff here. If we bring in all this, we won’t have to sit out here in the cold no more. That’s how it works. The more you bring in, the higher up in the gang you get. You should totally join up.”

  Jack nodded. That was pretty much what Miguel had said. Well, that and one more thing.

  “How much credit do you get for bringing in new people? Ones that know how to shoot?”

  Tom laughed. “Everyone knows how to shoot.” He waved it away, a nonissue. “But all this great stuff …”

  “What if you bring in someone who knows where there’s a whole house filled to the ceiling with stuff like this? Not just a little sack?”

  “For serious?” Joey said.

  Just barely, Jack kept from laughing as Tom and Joey’s eyes widened in awe. Then he nodded. “For serious.”

  The three boys got in the car together and set out, with Jack in the back seat. They’d tried to put him in the front. He’d just smiled and shook his head, and they hadn’t pressed the issue. As they drove, he asked whether it was safe to leave without finding a replacement at the roadblock.

  “We’re fine,” Tom said. Another nonissue.

  “You sure about that?” Jack said. “I’ve heard that troops who leave a post unguarded get in a lot of trouble. Like in the Army.”

  In truth, he was worried the two would get killed. He still remembered the fate of the boy who’d tried to cut a side deal the day he’d met Pete and Mandy. Blaze had seemed to relish the opportunity to deliver capital punishment—personally, with Jack’s sword, no less.

  Joey snorted. “What’s he gonna do, kill all of us? Then what? He can kiss my ass if—”

  Tom smacked him in the face with a quick backhand, bringing a startled yelp from the boy.

  “Shut your mouth! Quit acting like you’re safe. ’Cause you’re not. Blaze’ll skin you so fast you won’t even know what.” A minute later, he relented. “You gotta know how far you can push and when to shut up and take it. Right now, until you’re mature, you shut up and take it.” He glanced in the mirror at Jack, who sat quietly listening, fascinated.

  Pretty soon, they were on 29 heading toward Fairfax, away from Centreville.

  “I thought Blaze was over at the high school,” Jack said.

  “How’d you know that?” Tom said suspiciously.

  “Oh, I just heard about it.”

  “Well he’s not there no more. Got his headquarters in a big house in Clifton. That’s a place. It’s got fireplaces and woods everywhere outside. The high school got too cold, so we moved.”

  Jack thought for a second. “He lives there alone, or with other people?”

  “His friends are there sometimes. Everyone mostly sleeps at the hotel down in the town area, or in other houses. Nobody can have a bigger house than Blaze. That’s one of the rules in case nobody tells you. There’s lots of rules, by the way.” He said this matter-of-factly. “Truth is, Blaze gives me the creeps. Him and his sister.”

  “That girl’s stupid and ugly, like a toad,” Joey said, snorting.

  “I said shut up,” Tom said.

  “You say she’s ugly,” Joey said in a pouty tone. “All the time.”

  Tom raised his hand and the younger boy flinched.

  A few minutes later, he turned and followed a long road with big houses on either side. They passed through a touristy area with kids outside sitting around campfires. Cold as it was, there were cars with music blaring and people chasing each other and having fun. Some of the boys had what looked like liquor bottles in their hands.

  They drove through quickly. Then more trees, then up and down hills along a winding road. Soon, the trees got bigger—much bigger. Had to have been hundreds of years old. The houses turned into mansions. At the bottom of one of the hills, they turned left and proceeded up a curving drive that led to a huge, white house. Jack counted five RV trailers parked out front. There was also a big fire with teenagers sitting around it.

  Jack’s mouth fell open at the lights gleaming from every window of the mansion.

  “Electricity?”

  “This one’s got a generator hooked up,” Tom said. “Lucky him, huh? So listen: these guys are real mean sometimes. Just smile and nod and say yes to everything, okay?”

  Jack nodded obediently. “Yes.”

  “And leave your gun in the car. Nobody’s supposed to have a gun but us Pyros. Cool?”

  After a brief hesitation, he said, “Cool.” Then he pretended to put his gun under the driver’s seat.

  “Crap, here they come,” Tom said.

  From the direction of the mansion, several boys were coming their way, all of them pushing fifteen. Each carried the military-style weapons Jack and his Rippers preferred. Unlike almost every other survivor Jack had seen, they appeared plump in the face, not scrawny and half-starved like Tom and Joey and the ones around the fires.

  Tom rolled down his window and whispered back, “Remember what I said.”

  28

  One of the pudgier boys loo
ked in with a flashlight. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be watching the highway.” He shined the beam in the back seat. “Who the hell is he?”

  “I’m, Jack. I’m here to—”

  In a loud, official voice, Tom said, “We’re here to see Blaze—super important.”

  “About what?”

  “Super important stuff,” Jack said, smiling.

  “Was I talking to you?” the boy said. “Get out of the car. All of you!”

  Grimacing, Tom and Joey got out, followed by Jack on the far side, carrying his pack. The boy came around and got in his face.

  “What’chu say to me, punk? Say it to my face, punk.”

  He had his rifle pointed down, and he was pushing up against Jack and doing this weird thing with his shoulder, bumping it against Jack again and again. It was such an odd thing to do, Jack couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  “Think I’m funny?” the boy said, faking a bump and taking a swing.

  Jack, who’d anticipated the punch, dropped his pack and stepped into it, locking the boy up in a tangle of arms so that neither of them could move. Well, Jack could, a little—not bogged down with a rifle and having years of martial arts experience behind him.

  The boy’s ear was very close to Jack’s mouth.

  “Listen here, you pudgy little cabbage,” Jack said quietly over the grunting. “If I want, I can snap you in two. If you try for that gun of yours, I’ll kill you where you stand. Got it?”

  The boy swore and tried to break loose, but couldn’t.

  Jack reached up and squeezed the soft spot behind his ear, bringing a loud yelp. “Got it?”

  “Yeah, get off!”

  Jack gave a final squeeze, earning another yelp, and pushed him away. Casually, he hooked his thumb near where his shirt covered the .40 caliber. Just in case.

  The crowd watched excitedly, happy for any kind of entertainment in a world without game consoles and social media. They shouted at the boy to keep fighting, to do something. His face grew madder and madder as he worked himself up to a fatal decision for one of them. It wouldn’t be long.