“You really think you’ll be able to get the power turned back on?”
“Eventually,” Paul replied. “It’s part of the long term plan, along with a million other things.”
“Do you have running water?” Peaches asked. “I could really use a shower.”
Running water. Yes, please. I had been wondering the same thing. These people looked too clean not to have showered recently. I wanted to look clean. I wanted to feel clean. Zestfully clean. I was starting to think maybe next time it rained I’d stand out in the street buck ass naked with a bar of soap.
“No running water unfortunately,” Paul replied. “But city services did leave a few water trucks. Each has around four thousand gallons of water. We use it for cleaning up and showering mostly. It’s drinkable, but many people don’t care for the taste.”
Did he say showering?
I think he did.
I had no further questions. Where do I sign up?
But Ted had another question. “What about guns?” he asked.
Typical Ted question.
“We have a small armory. Not enough for everyone, that’s for sure, but enough. To tell you the truth we haven’t had many problems at the school. It’s in a relatively quiet suburban area, surrounded by woods. And we don’t see many sick if that’s what you’re wondering.” Paul patted his rifle. “Weapons like these are generally only used for when we go on supply runs, or for doing checks along the exterior of the fence.”
“So…why us?” Robinson asked. “You already have enough people. Why bring more in?”
“Why not? The more people, the more we can learn from one another. Together with our shared knowledge, maybe we can begin to get things back the way they were. Can’t do that alone. Couldn’t do that with just Jenson and Zoe. Do you have somewhere else to go? What are your plans? How did you end up here?”
All of us cutting in when necessary, we told the three visitors most of our story. Where we were from. Why we’d come to New Orleans. We touched on a few of the deadly encounters we’d already experienced, including the run in with Charlie the racist.
Halfway through telling the story, Robinson went inside and returned a minute later with a picture frame he’d plucked off the living room wall. He stepped to the front and handed the frame to Paul. “Recognize any of them?”
Paul glanced down at the photo. “Who are they?”
“The one on the right is my ex wife. Her name is Trissa. On the left is her mom, Marietta…or Mary. In the middle is my son, Ben. The reason we came here.”
“I’m sorry, but they don’t look familiar. I wish I could tell you they did. That doesn’t mean they’re not in our group, just means it’s unlikely. I’m good with remembering names and faces. I guess it goes with being a teacher and a principal for so long. We have quite a few children though, maybe fifty or sixty in total, some not even a year old.”
Robinson took back the picture frame, held it down by his side.
“Well, what do you say,” Paul finally said. “You seem like good people. Would you like to join us?”
“Can you give us a minute to talk it over?” Ted said.
“Sure, take your time.”
Paul, Jenson and Zoe walked back down the driveway and waited in front of the silver truck parked parallel with the house. Our group remained on the porch, standing in a circle like a basketball team during a timeout, planning our next play.
“What do y’all think?” Ted whispered.
“Sounds like they’ve got a pretty good situation going,” Robinson replied. “Better than ours at the moment.”
“You don’t think they’re bullshitting us?”
“Why would they?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m going paranoid,” Ted said. “I don’t like that they tracked us down. Followed me back here. Just want to be careful. Last time we trusted somebody we got ambushed.”
“If it’s all an elaborate story to lure us in, then it’s a good one,” I said.
“That’s the point. It’s a good story they have. Maybe too good to be true,” Ted remarked. “But don’t let me hog the floor here. I’m just rambling…thinking out loud.”
“I’m not worried,” Bowser said, peering across the lawn at our three visitors. “What else we gonna do if we don’t go with them…head back home?”
“Well, we had talked about finding a place outside of the city anyway,” Robinson said. “This might be exactly what we need. And it sounds like it’s going strong so far. Most of the heavy lifting has already been done for us.”
“It would be nice to be able to relax a bit,” Peaches added.
Ted adjusted the rifle in his hands. “I don’t think we can afford to relax just yet. Maybe someday, sure. But not now. Not today or tomorrow or next week. Society isn’t just gonna spring back up overnight.”
“No, but it sounds like these people are on the right track. They’re starting a community. They’re trying to rebuild their lives. They’re not hiding.”
“I’m not suggesting we hide,” Ted replied. “I just think we need to be careful. That’s all.”
“Being careful is a given,” Robinson said. “But I also think we have to put our stake in the ground somewhere. It doesn’t have to be here…or with this group. But it has to be somewhere. Does anyone have any objections to at least checking this place out?”
Bowser and Peaches both shook their heads. Like me, Peaches was ready to go check it out the minute she heard they had showers. I had a feeling Bowser had other interests; his eyes remained glued to Zoe ever since the group pulled up. Settle down, big boy.
“What about my father?” Naima asked.
Robinson leaned back against the brick wall and crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Are you sticking with him?”
Naima sighed. “I don’t like the person he’s become, and I won’t put up with it anymore. But I also don’t want to leave him like he is right now. He needs somebody to help him. I know how disappointed my mom would be with the way he’s acted. But I also know how disappointed she’d be with me if I gave up on him.”
“I totally understand. It’s a difficult situation he’s put us all in, you especially. I wish we didn’t have to deal with it. But as you know, what he did last night was totally unacceptable, and while he paid the price for it, I still stand by the decision I made. I know I’m not alone in saying I can’t trust him anymore. I barely trusted him before. With all that said, if they want to let him in their group, that’s their choice.”
“Would we still go?” I asked.
Robinson shrugged. “I guess that depends. If he were to go, I’d need some reassurance that he wouldn’t become a problem.”
“He’d say anything to save his ass, Robbie,” Bowser said. “You know that.”
“I don’t really care what he has to say. The reassurance would need to come from them. I would have to tell them what he did. I think they deserve to know.”
“Maybe we should do that now,” Ted said. “Get it over with before we go any farther.”
“We can do that, but are we all at least okay with checking this place out?” Robinson asked.
Ted nodded. “I’m okay with following them to this school. If we get a bad feeling, we bail.”
“Sounds good to me.”
And to the rest of us.
Robinson whistled and waved the three back over to the porch. Paul stayed in the front of the line, with Zoe and Jenson hovering in his shadow. All three had their rifles slung around their backs, indicating they no longer viewed us as a threat.
“What did you decide?” Paul asked. “Would you like to join us?”
“Maybe,” Robinson replied. “But we have a little problem.”
Paul curiously raised his bushy eyebrows. “Go on.”
Robinson elaborated, told the story of Aamod’s history of imperfection as it pertained to our group. The list of negative traits was extensive.
Itchy trigger finger.
Poor attitude.
Prone to acts of sudden insanity.
Stubborn.
Doesn’t work well in a team.
Prefers fighting over hugging.
Hands out threats as though they were Halloween candy. Trick or treat? I’ll fucking kill you.
And last but certainly not least.
Couldn’t keep a hot dog roller stocked at lunchtime.
Unforgivable.
Naima jumped in every now and then to try and soften the blow, instinctively wanting to protect her father. No matter what we said, however, Paul didn’t look that concerned. As a junior high school principal, he was no doubt used to dealing with bratty kids like Aamod.
“Our group is great,” Paul said. “But I won’t lie to you and say we haven’t had any problems. A few fights, even. It’s unavoidable. We’re all trying to adjust to the new world. Some people have a harder time controlling their emotions than others.”
“If he were to come with us, I’d want to make sure he wouldn’t be a problem,” Robinson said. “Not only for us. But for everyone else as well.”
Paul nodded. “Absolutely. I understand that. I think we could work something out. Section him off on the other side of the school if it’ll make you feel better. We can keep an eye on him.”
“I already took his gun, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get a hold of another one.”
“Like I said earlier, we have a small armory inside the school. But it’s only accessible to a handful of people.”
“So most people aren’t allowed to carry guns?” Ted asked.
“The only time we use guns is on fence patrols or supply runs. Otherwise no one carries a gun, and never inside the compound.”
Ted slouched, noticeably put off by the no guns in school policy. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
I glanced down at Sally attached to my hip like a stray puppy—a puppy with a loud bark and a deadly bite. After all the adventures we’d been through together, I didn’t know if I had the heart to let her go. Send her away to a farm to live with the other guns. Without her, who would protect me from the dead people? Who would keep me company while I drank coffee and read the morning newspaper? Who would be there to cheer me up after my boss sexually harassed me at work? Who would I call on for support on those days when life was too much to handle?
Ah well, guess I’d just talk to Peaches instead.
“If everyone at the school was an adult, maybe we wouldn’t have such strict rules on weapons,” Paul said. “But we have a lot of children. The last thing I’d want is for a young kid to get a hold of a gun and accidentally hurt themselves or someone else.”
“I’m probably just biased because I used to own a gun shop,” Ted said. “I have to remind myself sometimes that a lot of people aren’t used to being around firearms all day like me.”
“You might be glad to know that we’re looking into converting the gymnasium into a sort of survival center where people can learn and practice different techniques. Even use it as a shooting range on occasion. With your knowledge and experience, you could be a valuable asset in helping us set that up…if you wouldn’t mind.”
“No,” Ted replied. “I’d like that.”
“Great,” Paul said. “Now about this other guy. Is he inside the house? Is it possible I could speak with him?”
Robinson led the way inside the house. Aamod was right where we had left him, head down on the dining room table. He faced toward the living room, eyes closed, pulling in long wheezing breaths through his mouth. Small flakes of dried blood littered his face like dead skin.
“Here he is,” Robinson said in a low voice. “He had a long night, as you can tell. Think he’s still sleeping it off.”
Paul squeezed up next to Robinson, bending down to take a closer look at Aamod’s beaten face. “This man needs to see a doctor. His left eye is in especially bad shape.” Paul peered up at Robinson. “You did this to him?”
“No,” Robinson replied.
“Who did?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
“While he might not look it, I assure you Aamod here was the one who started the fight.”
Paul stood back up. “He just didn’t win.”
“Not even close.”
“I just figured you were involved because of your arm.”
“Oh, this,” Robinson said, glancing down at the sling on his left arm. “No, I was shot in my shoulder. That’s why I’m wearing this thing.”
“Wow, really? When were you shot?”
“Gee, it had to be at least a week and a half ago now. The shoulder is healing slowly but I still have a lot of pain.”
“You probably need to see a doctor too then,” Paul said.
“I think we all do.”
With all of us in agreement to at least give the sanctuary a look, we gathered our bags, stuffing them with any extra food or supplies we wanted to take from the house, and then regrouped in the front lawn. Naima took some extra time waking her father and getting him up to speed on what was going on. He did everything she told him to do without protest—for the first time ever.
Chapter 108
Even though there was plenty of room for us in the cabin now, Peaches and I elected to sit in the back of the truck again. Just like the previous day, the fresh air felt good blowing against our faces, through our hair. Paul and company led the way in the silver truck while Naima followed us in a red minivan that used to belong to Robinson’s ex wife. Aamod sat in the passenger seat, reclined back.
It took just under an hour to reach the junior high school located in a rural area west of New Orleans. Detouring when necessary, we carefully avoided all the major highways, particularly those that ran east to west. It was clear Paul had travelled this route numerous times before and knew what he was doing. Packs of scattered infected roamed the streets with us, sometimes forcing us to slow down or drive on the shoulder, but their numbers thinned out to almost nothing the farther we got from the city.
Peaches and I held hands the entire trip, grinning wide, excited for the possibilities that lay before us. A sanctuary for survivors. A community. A place with food and electricity and showers, safely secluded from most of the infected. As Ted had said, it all sounded too good to be true, and yet I think we all shared the same warm feeling in our hearts as we got closer.
This place was true. This place was real.
And we could finally stop running.
We could rest long enough to take a breath.
One final turn took us south down a winding two lane road. Tall trees lined the road on both sides, their lost leaves covering much of the gray asphalt in an earthly blanket, sweeping up into the wind as we drove over them. Every so often, we’d pass a row of three or four homes scattered amongst the trees, perhaps a general store or small business sitting lonesome on the corner of an unnamed road. But for the most part, until we reached the school three miles down, the final stretch of the trip was mostly dense woods with pockets of swampland mixed in to break up the monotony.
“I think this is it,” Peaches said, turning away from me to stare out at the collection of buildings ahead on the left.
I scooted up next to her and rested my elbows on the side of the truck bed as we approached what would most likely become our new home.
A half dozen sand-colored brick buildings of various sizes stood tall and interconnected in the distance. Painted in green and white on the side of the largest building was a giant alligator. The school mascot. A seven-foot high fence with barbed wire spun around the top made a big rectangle around the entire schoolyard. The ankle high grass contained within the fence was a mixture of green and yellow in color.
Farther down a sign came into view near the front entrance. South Bayou Middle School, the sign read. Home of the gators. Underneath the name was a reminder to parents of a school play on March 9. A month ago.
We waited for an armed man on the other side of the fence to unlock the front gate. When
finished, he swung open one side of the gate and waved us inside. As we rolled up toward the school parking lot, the armed guard relocked the gate behind us. We came to a stop in the school bus loop near the front office. A grassy median separated the bus loop from the school parking lot. If there was an empty spot, I didn’t see one.
The office door opened and an attractive older woman stepped out. She wore a red blouse with a matching knee-length pencil skirt. She had a slender frame accentuated by her long dark hair. As she came closer, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth became more distinct. She looked like a woman that could have been a teacher in her previous life, perhaps even at this school.
With the truck engine off, Peaches and I hopped out of the bed. The rest of the group exited their vehicles and joined us under the covered awning where kids once waited to get on or off the bus. Aamod was the only one who didn’t join us. He remained in the passenger seat of the minivan, resting his troubles away.
The woman in the red blouse walked up and greeted us with a bright smile. “You found them,” she said to Paul, and then began shaking hands. “Welcome to the school. My name is Susan.”
We went down the line and introduced ourselves.
“And the man in the van,” Susan said. “Who is he?”
“He’s my father,” Naima replied.
“He needs to see Dr. Bailey as soon as possible,” Paul said.
“Oh no. What’s wrong with him?” Susan asked, appearing genuinely concerned.
“Just really banged up. One of his eyes is swollen shut,” Paul replied. “Do you think you could fetch the doctor, Susan? Let him know we’re gonna need him to check out some new arrivals ASAP.”
“Absolutely,” Susan replied with a pleasant smile, and then hurried back inside the building.
“Susan is my assistant,” Paul said. “She used to work at a big law firm in the city. She’s been through a lot. Lost a husband and four children to the virus. Quite frankly, it’s amazing she stays so upbeat all the time. She helps keep everything organized around here.”
Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord Page 17