by Kirk Withrow
“John, wake me when it’s my shift,” said Reams without looking back.
John stared at the handgun on the table for a moment before glancing up at Trenton, whose eyes were still locked on the weapon, hopelessly trying to wrap themselves around the power and the possibilities the weapon held.
“Trenton?” said John. The man slowly raised his eyes to regard him, and John could see, for better or worse, that all of the fight had been taken out of Trenton by Reams’ harsh words. “Get some sleep,” said John. “I’ve got to get ready for first watch.”
Chapter 21
October 16, 2015
Though it had been only three days since they rescued Trenton, his incorporation into the group was already proving to be a challenge. John and Reams quickly learned that the lawyer possessed very few practical skills and even less desire to acquire such skills. The morning after they brought him back to Al’s house John awoke to find Trenton in the kitchen trying to figure out how to make some coffee. John smirked as he showed him how to light the propane stove to boil some water. There was an awkward silence as the two men sat at the table. Trenton saw the worn photo with ragged edges lying on the table, and he picked it up to have a closer look. As he gazed at the photograph John saw a brief, unmistakable shift in Trenton’s facial expression. Uncertain of the significance of the change, John immediately began interrogating him. “Have you seen her? Did she pass by your office? Was she okay? Tell me, dammit!”
Startled by the sudden barrage, Trenton stammered somewhat as he tried to construct his reply. “I…I’m not sure. There was a girl, but I think she was a bit older, maybe darker hair also…” said Trenton.
“When did you see her? How did she sound? Was she hurt?” John fired off all the questions in his racing mind in rapid-fire succession.
“Slow down, I’m not sure of anything. I don’t even know if it was her. I just thought for a moment they were at least similar. I didn’t talk to her or anything. She just passed along the street below the office at a fast walking pace a couple of days ago. There were several of those things following behind her at a distance,” said Trenton trailing off as he noticed something dark pass over John’s visage.
In a low hiss that sounded utterly inhuman, John growled, “You cowardly piece of shit! You sat there in your chicken-shit little office and watched a child run past your window being pursued by revs and made no effort to help her or even signal her to hide in your building. What the hell kind of person are you?” The rage boiling behind his eyes proved too much to contain as John launched out of his chair toward the cowering man. Before Trenton could even whimper, John had him pinned against the wall with his forearm smashing into his throat. “I should just…” continued John before abruptly dropping the thoroughly petrified man onto the floor. As he turned, John noticed the distinct smell of piss. He stormed out of the kitchen, passing Reams in the hallway.
“You okay, buddy? You look a bit flushed,” said Reams.
With no small amount of tension in his voice, John replied, “Fine, just sick of this shit, you know?” John wasn’t certain where he found the self-control to put Trenton down, and he certainly wasn’t sure Reams would exercise such restraint if he knew of his conversation with Trenton.
Since the incident in the kitchen nearly two days ago, Trenton largely avoided John. The three men now sat discussing John and Reams’ plan to head back out on patrol that day. It was, of course, Trenton who objected. “It’s not safe. You guys have seen what those things are like,” pleaded Trenton. “What if they find their way back here while you are gone? I’ll be overrun…the house will be overrun.”
Exasperated, Reams spoke up, “Look you’re safer here than out there with us. John and I work well as a team out there, and that has kept us safe and alive thus far. If you come with us, you endanger not only yourself but us as well.”
The small man shot daggers at the much larger Reams as he glared at him with clear contempt burning in his eyes. “Well I’m not staying here alone,” hissed the feisty little man as he inched forward toward Reams, in what looked to be a modern day rehashing of David and Goliath.
John intervened, “Cut it out! Look, Trenton, you can’t go with us, and we are going out. When we get back we can go over some of what we have learned and what we do out there. We’ll even start training you to defend yourself against the revs if you’re interested. But for now Reams is right, you will endanger us all if you come with us.”
Deep down Trenton knew John was right, but he had never been one to admit his own faults or insecurities easily. Reluctantly, Trenton said, “Fine…but you guys are taking unnecessary risks by heading out there each day. We should be trying to find a safer place to go—trying to find the military or law enforcement.” He concluded adding, “The reality is that no one else around here likely survived this thing, and searching for a needle in a haystack – a deadly, infected haystack I might add – is just misguided.”
John brought a hand across Reams’ expansive chest to block his advance as the lawyer’s words again enraged the big man. “Look, try to familiarize yourself with some of the weapons in Al’s arsenal or do something else useful around here. We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” said John as he and Reams walked out the front door.
After a few tense minutes of silence, Reams spoke up, “That little shit is going to get us all killed. We should have left his ass for the revs back at his office.”
John stopped walking and gave Reams an expression that was equal parts concern and resignation.
“No doubt Trenton is a pain in the ass, and I don’t like what he brings to the group any more than you. Hell, I’m not sure he brings anything to the group. But the reality is that we don’t really have the luxury of picking and choosing who we work with anymore. I think our best bet at this point is to try to get him up to par in some skill other than bitching and complaining.”
With a sigh, Reams nodded in understanding as the two men resumed their patrol.
Over the last week they had managed to search all of the surrounding areas that were close enough for them to do so and still have enough time to make it back to Al’s before dark. They soon realized that their efforts were far more likely to be fruitful if they could extend their range. Initially, they considered using a vehicle, but quickly dismissed the idea due to the noise it would generate. Their methods for quietly navigating through areas encumbered by the infected had proven effective thus far. They ultimately decided the best option was to establish a waystation or safe-house they could use as a sort of forward operating base. The creation of such a safe-house was one of the primary goals of their mission that morning. They each carried extra food, water, ammo, and supplies with plans to cache it at a safe-house once established.
They had not encountered anyone, alive or otherwise, since leaving Al’s earlier that morning. To the north of Al’s place, near the limits of their previous searches, was an upscale neighborhood on the outskirts of town. They had briefly searched the area several days prior, but only the streets and the exterior of some of the homes. At that time they did not enter any of the residences, feeling that the risks outweighed the benefits. They did not need any supplies and they assumed that if anyone, especially Ava, were alive inside any of the houses, they would signal them. When they were there four days ago, there had been only a few revs milling about in the streets of the gated community. The two men chose the neighborhood to establish the safe-house for that reason as well as its location on the outskirts of town, away from the greatest population density. The fact that it was a gated community was also a plus and, while there was no power going to the heavy wrought iron gate, it was closed when the power failed. Also, the houses were moderately spaced which would offer improved visibility and, being an upscale neighborhood, there were likely to be a lot of useful items tucked away in some of the large houses.
“Who knows, maybe we’ll stumble across another Al,” joked John with a small amount of pain mixed with hi
s words. John also had another reason for choosing the location—it would put them in good position to be able to scout beyond Trenton’s office in the direction he indicated the young girl was travelling.
As they approached the neighborhood they could see a large brick sign that read, ‘Hermitage Estates,’ just outside the main gate. To their surprise, an old Ford pickup truck was backed up against the gate. They were certain the vehicle had not been there previously. The red truck was pocked with rust, and the windshield displayed a prominent spider web crack centered over the passenger side. They could see no one in or around the truck from a distance. As they exchanged a glance, the interest and concern was clearly displayed on both of their faces.
Without a word Reams looked toward John then motioned to a nearby tree, wiggling two fingers in a ‘climbing’ signal.
Nodding, John silently crawled to the tree about fifteen yards from their current position. Hopping to grab the first branch, John strained as he hoisted himself up into the tree with his rifle slung across his back, while Reams covered him from his concealed position. Once he was high enough to see beyond the neighborhood walls, he retrieved his binoculars and scanned the area. He saw no healthy people, but it seemed that several vehicles were in different positions than he recalled previously. Only the occasional shambling figure could be seen milling about inside the walls.
When his eyes scanned the far corner of the neighborhood, however, John made several concerning observations. The first was the fact that there appeared to be a greater density of infected amassed around two houses on opposing corners of an intersection. The second was that one of the houses looked as though it sustained fire damage since they were last there. What he could see of the front of the house was charred. The second floor siding bore long, black streaks that stretched upward toward the roof, undoubtedly left by the flames that had licked the walls. Lastly, four or five dead revs lay scattered about the yards and intersection. John was certain none of this was there the last time he and Reams were in Hermitage Estates.
Climbing down, he made his way back to Reams who remained surprisingly well concealed given his substantial bulk. Uncertain of what they would encounter once inside the walls of the community, John and Reams decided to lighten their loads by caching some of the extra supplies in the makeshift hide Reams created just outside the tall brick wall. Cautiously, they eased out of cover and toward a fallen tree that was dutifully propped against the brick wall like a natural staircase. Eyes scanning and guns at the ready, the two men crouched just inside the walls of Hermitage Estates after scaling the downed tree. The neighborhood sprawling around them was deathly silent and appeared to be completely devoid of life. Fortunately, their point of ingress put them on the opposite side of the neighborhood as the intersection that was drawing the attention of the local revs presently. Satisfied there was no immediate threat, the two men quietly moved to investigate several of the closest residences to find a suitable safe-house.
The first house they encountered was a moderately sized two-story home that, at first glance, appeared untouched by the ravages of the plague. Neither man was surprised to find all of the exterior doors locked, forcing them to devise another way into the domicile. Reams produced a silver roll of duct tape from his pack and proceeded to cover the windowpane closest to the lock on the rear door. A look through the window on the opposite wall revealed that while there was a sliding latch much higher on the door, it had not been engaged. He rolled up an extra shirt and placed it over the glass pane before smashing it with a powerful elbow strike. Thankfully, the exploding glass held fast to the duct tape.
Before he even reached in to unlock the door, Reams was assaulted by the compost smell of bottled-up decay—a smell not unlike that released when a dirty dish is removed from the sink, inadvertently unearthing the mephitis that has been festering in the moist, dark confines of the dish below. His stomach – writhing and churning in protest – fought desperately to hold on to its meager contents. He did not bother unlocking the door, instead choosing to move on to the next house.
The house next door looked similar to many that the two men had seen in John’s neighborhood. The front door stood ajar and there were various domestic goods strewn about the unkempt lawn of the two-story structure. Reams felt certain this would be a better option than the first house. At least the damn smell should have cleared by now!
John carefully approached the front of the house, as Reams took up position beside a mammoth magnolia tree in the front yard. When John was safely in position to the right of the porch stairs, Reams advanced as John covered his movement. Hearing nothing that warned of danger, John again moved forward taking up position along the right side of the open door. With practiced efficiency, the men cleared the main room of the house. Systematically, they went room to room, ensuring there were no revs lurking within. Finding none, they began shoring up the three primary entry points on the ground level of the home.
Made of solid wood with only small windows all above eye level, the front door needed minimal additional security. The rear door, on the other hand, was a sliding glass door that opened onto a deck. While they intended to barricade the door from the inside, they also decided it would be prudent to remove the stairs leading up to the deck for maximum security against unwanted, infected visitors. The last entry point was the two-car garage. The lower half of the external door leading into the garage was solid wood with the top half being made of double pane glass. Reams found a cordless drill and was pleased to find its batteries still had some power left. Screws will definitely make less noise than nails.
John found an extension ladder in the garage and realized that, while the fallen tree provided excellent means for getting into the neighborhood, they still needed a way to get out quickly should the need arise. He extended the ladder to the appropriate height, and wrapped duct tape around the legs where the two sections joined to eliminate any noise from the metal clanging together. He then wrapped the top end of the ladder legs with cloth, securing it with duct tape as well.
Satisfied with the house, the two men sat down to hash out the plan for hardening the structure.
“I’ll take the ladder back to the wall and head over to get our supplies. We can leave the ladder there on the ground so it’ll be ready for a quick escape. It shouldn’t offer too much reason for anyone to investigate our new abode. Once you’re ready to start on the home improvements I’ll head into the neighborhood to watch for any infected movement and, if need be, create the appropriate distraction,” said John.
“Appropriate distraction, huh?” said Reams with a questioning look. “Just don’t do such a good job ‘distracting’ that you bring every rev in the whole county to our new home-away-from-home.”
Chuckling and shaking his head, John bounded off to prepare for his part in the play, while Reams gathered the necessary tools for the renovations. In the garage, John gathered improvised distractive devices, or IDDs, as he had taken to calling them after learning of the power of such autoschediastic distractions at the airport. John realized one could use almost anything to create a useful diversion for the revs, as they did not seem to possess the ability to differentiate between a ruse and a sound that truly meant food. In general, anything that created noise or even movement at a location remote to the revs initial area of interest would typically accomplish this goal. He gathered a half dozen spray cans, a kite, and an old set of wind chimes. He laughed to himself when he thought about these items being part of his arsenal for combating the monsters of the apocalypse. Of course, there was his Tavor and his Glock as well.
Stealthily, John crept out of the garage and edged along the back of the houses, keeping to the shadows as much as possible as he headed toward the two houses on the far side of the neighborhood. Ideally he wanted to find a position that allowed him to see both the safe-house and the intersection. He realized such a location would prevent him from seeing any revs approaching the safe-house from the opposite direction.