by Connor Mccoy
I hope it’s just rats, Lauren thought, although the thought of rats didn’t necessarily make things much better.
Karen shined the light straight ahead. Nothing but tabletops and cabinets with hanging kitchen utensils. Then she turned the beam to the left, where there were ovens and stoves. But one of the ovens actually was open. Also, there was a shape along the far wall. A human shape. Immediately, Karen shined the light on the silhouette.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” the shape cried.
It was a man. Could be one of our patients, Lauren thought. “Karen, keep shining.” Lauren then stepped past her, getting a little closer to the man. He was huddling in the corner, his face covered.
“Do not get closer! Don’t take us back!”
“Easy! No one’s going to hurt you!” Lauren got a better look at the man.
He was wearing a tattered green buttoned shirt that hung off his thin frame. He also wore frayed black leather boots, almost like army boots. Then he turned a little, exposing a shaggy, curly black beard around a thin face. Lauren was good with remembering faces, but she didn’t instantly recognize this guy. But as he moved his hand and arm into Karen’s light, she could make out scars and cuts along his flesh. This man had been through hell of some kind.
Then the doctor spotted movement in the oven. A second man stuck his head out. Is he actually hiding in there? Why were these two men so frightened?
“I’m Doctor Lauren Whittaker,” Lauren said as calmly as possible. “Are you two from Eagleton?”
“Eagleton?” The man in the corner looked at her. “I do not know Eagleton.”
His voice sounded European. More than that, it sounded familiar. Lauren got the feeling she should know this guy from somewhere. The second man cautiously emerged more from the oven. He looked even thinner than his companion. He wore a black T-shirt that was slashed and ripped in front and back. Stubble lined his lean face. He also wore a black patch covering his left eye. No doubt about it, these two had gone through some serious hell.
“What are you two hiding from?” Lauren asked.
Suddenly, Karen’s flaccid expression morphed into one of explosive rage. “Lauren, get the hell away from those two, now!”
Karen’s outburst was so shocking that she nearly jumped in fright. “Karen, what’s wrong? Were they carrying weapons?” Lauren had not seen them carrying anything.
“Those two…those two…” Karen was trembling.
Lauren then took a good look at the second man’s face. In an instant, she knew. The words of Thomas Criver flooded into her mind.
No, we’re not going to kill you. We’re not going to imprison you. We’re not going to beat you or punish you. We just want you gone. There’s been enough killing. What you do with your lives is your own business, but you’re definitely not welcome here anymore. You step one foot back in this town and it really will be the end of your lives. You’ll be pushing up daisies in minutes.
She was there when Tom Criver laid down the law to the five surviving men of Major Volhein’s forces. Two of those men were right here, staring down the nose of Karen’s gun.
As the street curved into a cul-de-sac, Tom expected to see houses on each side. He was not prepared for the incredible overgrowth of grass and foliage in each yard. Some of it topped even his height. Some of the large weeds and grass hung over or even fell onto the street. Fortunately, much of the asphalt remained uncovered or visible enough to walk on.
“Holy shit,” Tom said slowly.
“What?” Cheryl asked.
Tom started walking again. “Never saw grass this high before.”
“Guess the lawnmower guys are on vacation.”
Tom could have slapped his head. No kidding. This place could have been abandoned for months, maybe close to a year, and with no one to mow the lawn, Mother Nature was free to run wild again.
“Logan’s Run,” he said.
“What?” Cheryl asked.
The pair passed by one of the houses. “It’s a movie set in the future. It’s about how people are killed off when they reach thirty. This guy and a girl escape this city and end up in Washington D.C., but the buildings are all covered with plants and vines. It’s been deserted for many years.”
“Really? Never heard of it.”
“It came out the year before Star Wars. Had a weird disco kind of vibe to it.” Tom tried to get a good look at the house beyond the grass, but only its slanted roof was visible. “Damn. We’re going to have to hack our way up to a house.”
“There are some yards over there that don’t look too bad,” Cheryl said.
Tom turned his head. True, some of the yards at the end of the street weren’t so overgrown, but it wouldn’t be a straight line to the front door of any of them. Before he could think to pick a house, the sky above crackled with lightning, accompanied by loud thunder. The sky now was coated with gray clouds, and the wind was picking up. They couldn’t stay out here much longer, that was for sure.
Tom wanted to pick up the pace, but Cheryl still was sluggish in her steps. He maintained a slow walk as he frantically looked for both an easy path to a house and one that looked as though it could handle the storm. The first two homes he spotted had roofs in sad states, with most of the shingles blown off and even a few visible holes.
The wind picked up even more. Low pitched rumblings cut through the air. The roof of the third house at least appeared intact. It would have to do.
Tom led Cheryl to the edge of the curb. As he stepped onto the grass, Cheryl stopped. “Wait.” She reached to the back of her pack. “Open…here. Take out my baton.”
A short moment later, Tom had his wife’s baton in hand. “Good,” she said, “Use that to beat back the grass. And poke the ground while you’re at it.”
Tom smacked the first tall stand of grass in front of them. “Okay, but why poke the ground?”
“Snakes,” Cheryl replied, “Could be…anything…under…there…”
Cheryl was getting weaker. Tom couldn’t hesitate. He followed her directions, smacking the grass to make it bend so they had an easier path to the house. Also, he made sure to poke the ground they were about to walk on. With all the bent-over tall grass, shorter grass and weeds, anything could be lurking under their feet.
The sky above flashed brightly. Damn, Tom thought. A few seconds later, a loud clap of thunder rattled his body. It was easy to think one of these damn bolts actually could hit him or Cheryl.
As they walked close to the house’s porch, scattered raindrops started hitting them. Once they were under the porch’s awning, the sporadic droplets turned to a steady rain. Soon it would pour its ass off out here.
Tom turned to Cheryl. “Hey. I hate to ask, but can you hold this? I don’t know if anyone’s home and I think it’d be a bad sign if I showed up looking like I’m about to club someone.”
Cheryl chuckled. “Sure.”
She took the baton, though her arm was obviously unsteady. She didn’t appear to be in any condition to use it if needed. Tom then knocked on the door. No one responded. He knocked again.
“I figured this place might be abandoned.”
He grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open. The door moved inward, but then caught. The door’s deadbolt was partially in the doorframe’s grove. The frame was already old, and probably wore down even more recently.
“Here.” Cheryl shuffled to the door. She pulled out one of her army knives. “We’ll have to pry it open.”
The rain was picking up. They had to get in soon. Tom took the knife and stuck it between the door and the bolt. It was a good, tough blade. Just jabbing it in between cut through some of the frame. He pushed a little harder. He hoped the frame was weak enough around the deadbolt to give. It was. With an additional shove, the deadbolt came free and the door swung open.
Tom ushered Cheryl inside. The rain now really was coming down. Tom then slammed the door shut. With locking it no longer an option, Tom vowed to barricade it later. Ri
ght now, he had to tend to…
Cheryl let out a gasp and collapsed onto the floor, bracing herself with her hands. His heart racing, Tom ran over to Cheryl. She was panting.
“It’s like my body was saying…’shit, I’m done,’” she said.
Tom unstrapped her pack, frantic to get it off her. Once he pulled the pack free, Cheryl slid out and lay on her side.
“Get some light,” she said, “I barely can see anything.”
Thanks to the rain outside, the sun was obscured, meaning daylight wasn’t an option for illumination. Tom dug out some lanterns and candles and lit up the room in the process, he found a couch and laid Cheryl on it.
Chapter Three
Lauren hovered over both men. “Alright. You had better start talking, and if I don’t like what I hear, you’re both dead men.”
Kovacs tried to steady himself as best he could. “Okay. We traveled down the road. You saw us go, you know that part. We kept on going. We got water from the river that was close by the road, and then we got some berries. It kept us going for four days. We slept in the woods like animals. Then one day they surrounded us. Four men with rifles. They took us up to this camp. We had a choice. We’d do what they say or they wouldn’t give us food.”
“Sounds like a warlord,” Lauren said grimly.
“We didn’t give a shit who it was. We were dying. We needed help. We were desperate. We were down to eating grass like farm animals!” Kovacs let out soft gasps. It was a short moment before he could talk again.
“They never told us the leader’s name. We only had contact with a guy named Clark. Josh Clark, yeah, that’s it. He split us up, put us in small rooms in the camp. Gave us next to nothing to eat.” Kovacs cringed.
“I had to beg like a dog for a half a steak. He made Durand strip naked for cooked beef.” The man almost seemed on the verge of tears.
“Vogel…”
“Wish I was there with a working phone. I could have taped it to remember you sick bastards by,” Karen muttered.
“Okay, we get it,” Lauren quickly cut in, not wanting to inflame this situation any further.
“Now get to the part where you tell us what you did with Doctor Tran and my patients.”
“We were told to tell them there was medicine at the camp, that they had a good chance to get cured. Clark, he said we just had to collect their guns and we’d give them the food and medicine.”
“And did you tell them you were lying your asses off?” Karen asked.
“No! They did have medicine and food. And they had other sick people at the camp! This thing you got, it’s spread out to other towns. Durand, he got the disease, too. I didn’t know what the hell Clark was going to do. We did get fed. Maybe it was just barely shit, but we’re still alive!”
“So, what happened? Did they believe you? Did they go willingly, or did you frog march them off at gunpoint?” Lauren asked. Kovacs swallowed.
“Tell me!” Lauren shouted.
“Vogel told them to run!” Kovacs trembled.
“He said not to believe Clark and his men! He—he could not bear it any longer. He pulled his gun and started shooting at Clark’s men.” The soldier raised a shaking hand to his face.
“But they could not escape. Vogel was shot. I saw him fall.”
“And you?” Lauren asked.
“Stark and I ran!” Kovacs started weeping.
“We could do nothing. We raised our guns to fire, but then we saw we had no chance and we fled! We fled for the trees! We—we did not see what happened to the others.” Stark said.
Karen let out a laugh. “Great. You ran like a bunch of pansy-assed cowards. I think you just made my day.”
“Karen,” Lauren said, gently but firmly.
She despised these men, but even she could not ignore that they had endured their own hell since they were exiled from Eagleton. Perhaps it was justice, but Lauren could not lightly brush off the suffering of other human beings, even if they were horrible people. Besides, she at least had a lead to Dr. Tran and the Eagleton patients’ whereabouts.
“So, where would they have taken our friends?” she asked Kovacs.
“There is a camp, a few days from here on foot,” Kovacs answered, “Clark’s men had a working truck. They’re probably there already.”
So that’s it. They now had a location. Presuming, of course, that Kovacs wasn’t lying.
“Okay, gentlemen, here’s the deal. You’re going to take us to that camp.”
“Are you out of your mind? We’re not going back there, not for you, not for anyone,” Stark said.
“Just have them tell us where it is,” Karen said, “We don’t need them.”
“Not if they’re lying,” Lauren replied, “We’re going to make sure they don’t lead us on a snipe hunt, or worse, a trap. They’re going to lead us there.”
“Let me guess. You’ll shoot us if we don’t,” Stark said with a note of sarcasm.
“Karen, open up a food pack and give me a sealed can of potato soup,” Lauren said.
Karen complied. Still aiming the gun at them with her right hand, Lauren then tossed the can at Stark with her left hand. The soldier caught it. Karen’s mouth gaped.
“Lauren, what the hell?”
“Yeah, I will shoot you if you don’t help us. But if you agree to give us a hand in finding our friends, maybe you can get a few decent meals,” Lauren said.
“Are you crazy? You can’t trust them!” Karen shouted.
Lauren, Cooper and Karen pushed with all their might until the table fully blocked the door leading to the kitchen. After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, Lauren tapped on the now obstructed door.
“Okay, gentlemen, just get yourselves a good night’s sleep. We’ll let you out in the morning.”
The weight of the steel table definitely would make it impossible for anyone on the other side to get the door open. After making sure the kitchen had no other escape routes, Lauren decided to barricade Kovacs and Stark in the kitchen for the night to alleviate any risks they’d try something while Lauren, Karen, Nadia and Cooper were asleep.
The arrangement still didn’t satisfy Karen, which was evident as she spun around to face her friend with narrowed eyes and tensed muscles. “This is insane! Those men will kill us the first chance they get!”
“They’re the only link we have to Tran and the others. Besides, if we let them go, they might come after us when we’re not looking,” Lauren said.
“You really think I can stand to be under the same roof as those…those animals?” Karen jabbed a finger at the kitchen door.
Finally, Lauren’s voice grew gentle. “Nobody knows more than I do what those people put you through, of course, except you. Your injuries are burned into my mind. I hate them for what they did, believe me. But there are people out there who may go through what you did or worse, and I must do something to save them.”
Karen didn’t lodge a further complaint. But it was clear she wouldn’t let this go easily.
Drip, drip, drip. “Another leak,” Tom grumbled as he left the kitchen.
That made the third room in this old house that was dripping water from the ceiling. His boots made soft splashes in water pools as he trekked through the living room to Cheryl, who now was sitting on the couch.
“I’d say we have a fifty percent chance that the roof caves in on us,” he said.
“I hope you’re joking,” Cheryl said.
Tom glanced at the thin stream of water by the back wall, near a television set that was covered with dust. “I’d love to be kidding. But this place is going to have to do. It’s pouring like hell out there.”
Cheryl scooted up to a lamp stand and picked up a propped-up picture in a frame. The photo showed a smiling couple, a tall man with mostly brown hair with silver-tinted sideburns, and a large woman in a pink top. Dust coated the frame and its stand.
“Wonder what happened to them?”
“I didn’t smell anything dead in here. I
guess they took off,” Tom said.
Cheryl replaced the frame on the stand. “You think they’re out there in this storm somewhere?”
In this wreck of a world, they could have died months ago, Tom thought. But he didn’t want to voice such a dour possibility.
Cheryl rolled up her shirt, exposing her stomach. It was bandaged up in an attempt to heal multiple rashes produced by the disease, as well as to keep Cheryl from clawing at her skin. The itching was agonizing at times.
“God, I really could use a bath.”
Tom glanced into the house’s main hallway. “Might as well. The bathroom’s the one place where there’s no leaking.”
Tom went to work filling up buckets of rainwater. Among the many things he had learned from Cheryl about survival was that rainwater made for good bathing water. Once he had all he needed, he helped Cheryl into the bathroom. Then he grabbed the first bucket and was about to pour it in when Cheryl said, “Wait. Wait until I get in. I might slip.”
“Right.” Tom set the pail aside.
Cheryl still didn’t approach the tub. “Could you help me get these clothes off?”
Tom did as Cheryl requested. Soon she was totally nude. Tom never had ceased to marvel at Cheryl’s physical beauty, and while Cheryl never would be anything less than beautiful to him, he was taken aback at her deterioration. There was, of course, the line of scratches and skin irritations across her stomach and some on her sides, now visible with her bandages off, but in addition, Tom could tell she had lost some weight. A faint outline of her ribs was showing up. Her breasts were limp, the curviness of her hips had dulled, and her skin was pale, even in the dim light of this bathroom.
Cheryl’s lip curled in a weak smile. “Hey. Guess you’re enjoying the sights. Sorry if I can’t perform like I’m used to.”
Tom chuckled. “That’s not even on the radar. I just want to get you better.” Then he ran a finger through Cheryl’s limp red hair.