by Connor Mccoy
“You really think we’re going to live to be old?”
Cheryl wiped her nose. “I will. Statistically, women live longer than men. So, I’ve got a fighting chance.” Then she rolled her head in her husband’s direction. “You’re probably screwed, baby.”
“Hey, I’m more fit than Chuck Norris. I easily can hit ninety.”
Cheryl narrowed her eyes. “Chuck looked hotter in a pair of jeans than you.”
Tom sprang up. “You are lying through your teeth!”
Cheryl grinned. “Am I?”
The blood pumped harder through Tom’s veins. Excitement was building up, the kind generated by being with this woman. Usually, it was accompanied by hours of hot passion, but he knew Cheryl was in no condition for that. Still, he was thrilled enough to lean over and give the redhead a long smooch on her forehead.
And then Cheryl sneezed on him.
As Tom wiped off his face with several pieces of tissue, Cheryl laughed. “I swear, I didn’t plan that!”
A short time later, exhaustion got the better of both of them. Cheryl turned around, her back facing Tom, who in turn lay on his back.
“Tom?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Could you hold me, please?”
Tom slid up directly behind her and slowly coiled his arms around her waist. He could feel the tension leave her body.
“I just wanted to feel you,” she whispered.
You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to touch you again, Tom thought. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he kissed Cheryl on her cheek, then lay back down behind her.
Tom climbed out of the tub. The dirty water, thankfully, flowed down the drain with little trouble as always. This old house might be leaky as hell but at least the water still could go down the pipes.
The bath helped rejuvenate him. He had been in Cheryl’s bedroom almost constantly, and the experience had rung him out. The fact that Cheryl seemed no longer to be in danger, plus her insistence that he wash up, were the only things that got him to leave her side.
He dressed in a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then stepped out the door into the hall. Then he heard grunting coming from Cheryl’s bedroom. Quickening his pace, he stepped through the door. Cheryl was sitting on the bed, dressed in brown shorts and a T-shirt, doing leg lifts. Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail. She grunted as she lifted each leg up.
“You’re going to hit the floor and start doing pushups next?” Tom asked.
“Probably, if I can get my damn legs back in shape,” Cheryl said as she lifted another leg.
“I was only kidding.” Tom chuckled.
“But you do look amazing. I mean, earlier it was really touch and go, and now you’re…” He held out his hand.
“Yeah.” Cheryl lifted her leg higher and clung to it for a bit, giving it a good stretch.
“I told the Grim Reaper to piss off until I’m a hundred and two.” She let her leg fall, then reached beside her, finding the kids’ card. “Besides, I’ve got a reason to get out of here as soon as possible.”
Tom looked at the card and nodded. No doubt. They’d be bidding this house farewell soon if they had anything to say about it.
“Lauren…” The voice was quiet, labored, but grew in strength as she repeated the name. “Lauren.”
In the wagon, Cooper, who has been sitting next to Nadia, stirred from his nap. “Nadia? Nadia, are you awake?” he called out.
The former policewoman blinked her eyes open. “Who’s there? Jamie?” she asked.
“Lauren!” Cooper crawled forward a few steps, feeling the interior of the covered wagon as he went. “Lauren, Nadia’s awake!”
A short moment later, Lauren reached the wagon. “Hey!” She leaned over Nadia. “Oh, thank God. You’re awake. We haven’t heard so much as a peep out of you for almost two days.”
Lauren then dug under the tarp of the wagon and produced a water bottle. “Here, can you sit up?”
Cooper, after a little guidance from Lauren, was able to prop up Nadia in a sitting position. Nadia guzzled down a good half of the bottle. “Great. You’re getting your strength back,” Lauren said. Two days ago, it was tough to get Nadia to drink anything.
After letting out a loud gasp, Nadia looked at the scene over Lauren’s shoulders. They were parked on the side of the road, with woods just beyond. “So where are we?” she asked tiredly.
Before Lauren could answer, Stark and Kovacs emerged from the trees, with Karen behind them. The trio strolled up to Lauren. Kovacs cocked his head to the woods behind him.
“We’re here,” he said, “The camp’s a short hike to the east.”
Stark peered into the wagon. “So, she’s finally awake.”
Nadia stared right back at him. She had been filled in on the deal with Kovacs and Stark and mostly had been conscious for the first day of travel, but in all, she had been out of it. Now she appeared more alert, and didn’t seem to like the company of the two soldiers much at all.
“You’re luckier than most,” Stark said with a slight huff. “How about we take a break? I think we’ve earned a good lunch.”
“When I’m finished with Nadia, you eat,” Lauren said.
“I’m fine,” Nadia said, “Just go handle it, Lauren. I feel like doing things myself for a change.”
Lauren and Karen left with the two men. Nadia started pulling the blanket off of her. As she finished pulling herself free, Cooper spoke up.
“It has been quiet the past few days. I keep expecting to wake up with a knife in my chest. I can’t see a thing so I have no idea what these men even look like. It is very frustrating.”
Nadia grasped Cooper’s arm. “I feel like I can get back on the horse. Don’t worry. I’ll look after Karen.”
“Knowing what those men did to her, perhaps it is fortunate I’m blind. I don’t think I would be very friendly with them if I could see.”
“Wait, did those two actually…” Nadia’s voice caught before she could say the word “rape.”
“No. Stark was out of the camp at the time. But Kovacs saw it.”
Nadia rubbed her face. “It doesn’t matter. They’re both accessories as far as I’m concerned. I’ve got to get back in the game.” She started scooting toward the wagon opening.
Tom pushed the old front door wide open, then propped it open with a wooden chair. A few seconds later, Cheryl stepped over the threshold, the first time in days that this woman had been outside. She walked, a tad slowly, but the firmness in her steps was back. It was like her body was a little wary of operating normally again and was taking its time to feel things out. Even Cheryl’s boots didn’t make the usual clomping sounds as they walked.
Cheryl’s pack already lay on the edge of the house’s porch, at the border of the awning. Tom made it as light as he could. He didn’t even like the idea of Cheryl carrying a load at all, but she insisted, partially out of courtesy toward her husband, plus she wanted to get her body back in shape as quick as she could.
The redhead inhaled deeply. She seemed to be enjoying her first taste of freedom from her sickbed. Then she sneezed. Once, twice, then three times.
“Mother Nature’s saying ‘welcome back.’” Tom dug into a shirt pocket and produced a pair of tissues, knowing Cheryl might need some.
Cheryl took some and blew her nose. “I say, ‘Nice to see you too, bitch.’” Then she rolled up her tissues and stuck them in a small plastic bag she used for waste.
Tom then moved the chair back inside before shutting the front door. He had found a key to the front door, but elected not to lock the door before they left. Someone, someday, might need this place for a refuge, just like he and Cheryl had. Having it locked to a desperate party was cruel.
Cheryl already had strapped on her pack. “It’s a nice place,” she said.
“It served us well.” Tom gave the front door and the wall around it a looking over.
“I wonder if someday anyone will come here to live again.” He appr
oached the end of the porch.
The neighborhood beyond was as lifeless as it had been when they had arrived, yards a mess of overgrown grass and weeds and houses in various states of disrepair and degradation. This small little cul-de-sac easily could be forgotten for decades.
Cheryl took her first step down the porch steps, but Tom quickly took her arm and led her the rest of the way.
“You don’t have to fuss over me too much,” she said, “You’ll know if I’m in trouble if you hear an ‘Oh, shit!’ followed by me on my ass.”
As soon as they cleared the awning, Tom and Cheryl shut their eyes. The suddenness of sunlight hit them without warning. They had been so used to the indoors, plus the cloudy skies of the past few days, that the bright sun of the morning was a total shock.
Blinking their eyes, husband and wife could take in the sights of the neighborhood and the tree line just ahead. The clear sky and sunlight made the abandoned neighborhood look so much more beautiful. The tall grass, which seemed brown and dingy under gray clouds, now glistened with a bright green. The absence of browbeating wind and rain allowed plants and grass to stand taller and fuller.
“I’ll be damned,” Tom whispered.
“Are you thinking how amazing it looks?” Cheryl asked.
Tom started hiking toward a small gap in the tall grass. “Definitely.”
It was a roundabout way to get to the street, but soon Tom and Cheryl Criver had made it past the yard’s overgrowth and now were on the asphalt path out of the cul-de-sac.
“You know what the sad part is?” Tom asked as they walked, “We have no way to call home and tell the kids we’re on the way.”
“I know,” Cheryl replied, “We can’t call them, can’t text them, can’t even mail them a letter. I’d give anything to let them know we’re okay and on the way.”
“I just hate that we had to leave them for so long. We went to Adelson for a trade run, but that wasn’t more than a couple of days. Those kids have been abandoned once before to the scum of the Earth.”
Cheryl nodded. Tom was referring to the children’s captivity by The Coach. “But they’re with friends. They’re in homes with people who care about them.” She crossed her arms and grabbed each arm with an opposite hand.
“Besides, it’s me who can’t wait to see them again. I want to hold each and every one of my babies.” She lowered her head. “I want to give each of them the biggest hug and kiss ever.”
Tom studied his wife carefully. It must have been sheer agony for her to lie in that house without any contact with her little ones. Tom felt the pain of separation too, but for a mother the pain is truly unique. Cheryl didn’t even give birth to a single one of them, but the fact they didn’t come out of her womb didn’t matter a single iota.
He reached around and grabbed Cheryl by her right shoulder. “Well, look at it this way. We got nothing but a hike between us and the kids. No more disease, no more worrying that we’re not going to see them again. It’s just time now.”
Cheryl nodded. “Right.” Then she leaned in a little, sinking into her husband’s chest.
Chapter Seven
“Damn,” Tom said.
A large tree lay across the road in front of them. The center of the trunk was black and charred. Evidently a lightning bolt had struck it during that electrical storm a few days ago. It must have been an old tree that could have been leaning, and the lightning simply finished it off. That might not have been a problem except the trunk was quite large.
“No sweat. We can get around it.” Tom started for the trees off-road, but Cheryl grabbed him by the arm.
“Hey, can I see the road map again?” she asked.
“Sure.” Tom dug it out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
After a few minutes of checking it out, Cheryl pointed to an adjacent road a short distance from where they were. “How about we take a detour here? Remember the river where we…” She smiled. “…you know, ‘got married?’”
“I’ll never forget that,” Tom said with a chuckle.
“The river runs right through here. We probably could snatch up a few berries and herbs. It’ll only cost us a few more hours.”
Tom took the map back. “Well someone’s getting their strength back.”
Cheryl stretched her arms. “I’m probably craving a good hike. I don’t think I’ve ever been stuck in bed for so long.”
The trip off the road through the forest took a little over an hour, and soon they were back out on the street Cheryl had spotted on the map. However, before they started looking for the river, Tom pointed to the horizon. There were people out there, a lot of them.
“What the hell’s going on there?” Cheryl asked.
Tom shook his head. In all his time exploring these state roads that wound through rural areas between cities and towns, he never had seen so many people out in the open before.
“They could be refugees traveling between towns.” He started walking in that direction. “Actually, those could be exiles from our town!”
Cheryl picked up the pace. “There sure are a lot of them. I didn’t think that many traveled in one direction.”
The pair hiked toward the crowd. As they got closer, Tom and Cheryl noticed a few more things. Two big wooden signs with “Help” painted in red were nailed to the widest tree trunks. Also, big, muscular men flanked the crowd, keeping close eyes on what was going on. The crowd had formed a line and was flowing down a small gravel road under the canopy of several low hanging tree branches.
Tom’s heart quickened when he noticed one more detail—the men were armed. These didn’t even look like thugs off the street. The way they moved, the way they kept watch, it reminded him eerily of how Volhein’s men performed. Were they soldiers?
He leaned close to Cheryl’s ear. “What do you think?” he whispered, “Military?”
“Maybe, but they’re not in uniform,” she replied.
The men were dressed in khakis, jeans, T-shirts, tank tops, or jackets. They appeared fairly neat in their dress. They could be professionals of some kind. Perhaps in their lives before the EMP blast, they were policemen or security guards.
By now Tom and Cheryl were close enough that the armed men took notice of them. It was too late to back out now. Two of them approached, one a tall Caucasian man with a salt-and-pepper beard, the other African American.
The black gentleman nodded. “Good afternoon. I see we have two more survivors. Always good to see more among the living.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Tom pointed to the crowd behind them. “So, what’s with the heavy traffic?”
“Quarantine,” said the bearded man, “Many of these poor souls don’t have anywhere to go. They can’t get treatment where they live. Some were even kicked out of their homes. A lot of them are looking for food and medicine, so we’re taking them in.”
“And what of you?” the bearded man’s companion asked, “You seem packed for a prolonged trip. Perhaps we can offer you some help.”
“Actually, we’re on the way home. My name is Tom Criver. This is my wife, Cheryl.” Tom gestured to Cheryl, who nodded and smiled at the two men.
“Ah, a married couple. How fortunate that you two seem to be in good health.” The black gentleman fixed on Cheryl. “You are in good health, I take it?”
“Fit as a fiddle.” Cheryl grinned. “Almost. It’s a long story.”
“Perhaps we can offer you some water? Fresh fruits?” the bearded man asked. “If you would like a place to stay, we can talk about it.”
“Oh, we’re not staying. We’re fine.” Tom was getting strange vibes from this operation, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He did, however, want to linger a little to satisfy his curiosity. As he had been chatting with these two, he repeatedly glanced of the line of people. He didn’t recognize a single face from Eagleton so far, but he also didn’t know everyone there by sight. However, he could tell a lot of these people were sick. They moved in t
he same slow, shuffling stupor that he had witnessed with Cheryl or other Eagleton patients.
“But, maybe we could take you up on those fresh fruits.”
Tom held up the toilet paper roll as if it was a pot of gold. “Never leave the post apocalypse without one of these babies.” He planted it on the wooden table by one of the table’s many fruit baskets.
The black gentleman, whom just had introduced himself as Jess, laughed. “You are a funny man, Tom Criver.”
Behind them was the camp, which looked to Tom as just a collection of people mostly wandering around a fairly open area dotted by trees. Clearly this area wasn’t as thick as the rest of the woods off the road, yet there were still enough trees around that if any shelters were part of this camp, Tom couldn’t see them.
Jess’ bearded comrade, who had revealed his name to be Chapman, presented a five fruit ensemble, consisting of an apple, apricot, pear, peach, and an orange. “We call this our five piece fruit platter,” Jess said, “We made sure to plant as many fruit trees in our camp as possible. Picking them is easy if you’re running a temperature of a hundred and three.”
As Cheryl took the fruit, Tom frowned. “Wait, sick people are picking your fruits?”
Jess bit his lip. “It is the price for our protection. Not everyone here is sick, of course. Those that are ill wear a black armband so we know who they are. But there has to be a price. We have only a few men to run this camp. We don’t have the manpower to care and house for so many ourselves.”
“I know it sounds a little harsh, but we do our best to make sure the sick don’t have to do much. They just pick their own food. We give them all the tools they need,” Chapman added.
That made sense to Tom, though he wasn’t fully at peace with this operation, not yet anyway. Perhaps he had been burned by the Good Samaritan act of Major Volhein’s forces, and couldn’t accept any goodwill operation at face value.
“Who are your leaders?” Cheryl asked after stowing away the fruit in her pack. “Are they around here? Can we talk to them?”