The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3

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The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 85

by Simpson, David A.

“Sure.” Bob said. “I can do that.”

  11

  Chores

  “Look, we’ve got work we need to do today, it can’t be put off.” Kodiak told Bob. He watched the others disperse and head off to take care of their various chores. The zoo ran on hard work and some things had to be done whether they felt like doing them or not.

  Kodiak continued. “Just chill out and rest for now, we can go into town tomorrow for the truck, we’re due for a supply run anyway.

  Kodiak gave a nod to Donny. He’d been lingering in case the stranger made a wrong move. He was still unsure about the whole situation and didn’t buy the strangers story. He’d seen him fall but didn’t believe for a moment he’d just lost his grip on a tree limb. He’d have to be a ghost to move through the forest without Yewan or him detecting him. Kodiak flashed sign language to the mute boy. They would trust the stranger. Donny nodded as he and Yewan slipped from the porch and headed towards the woods to check traps and fences.

  “Take it easy today buddy; you really do look like hell.” Kodiak continued. “Murray can show you around the shops and garages so you’ll know what we have to get the truck started if it won’t crank in town. We can tow it back with Millie.”

  Bob nodded his approval. “Sounds good. Appreciate it.”

  Kodiak left him on the porch and set off for the barn. He had a full day ahead of him, although he’d like to have spent more time with the stranger. He had a lot more questions about the outside world. He was happy here, but he questioned whether or not they would be better off with a bigger group. He’d give the tribe some time to stew it over and bring it up around the dinner table one night for a vote.

  Murray wheeled himself out onto the porch. He had the weird looking belt that Bob had worn sitting in his lap. He’d played with it for days trying to figure out what it did but he’d been unsuccessful in his tinkering. It seemed like it didn’t do anything, but it was obviously some kind of high-tech gadget. It was a strange item to be carrying around, it didn’t seem to belong in the apocalyptic world. It wasn’t anything that could protect you or kill your enemies. Everything else about the stranger was all armor and weapons, nothing flashy or fancy. It seemed to Murray like a waste of time to carry some gaudy belt around, unless it had some significance to Bob. Something he was missing. Murray resolved himself to find out its mysteries.

  “So, it’s just you and me today.” he said and stroked Sage as she sat in his lap.

  He looked at the older boy. Watched for signs of deception or dishonesty.

  “You wanna tell me what this is?” He held up the belt and watched the sunlight dance off its dull surfaces.

  “Movie prop.” Bob said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  Murray knew bullshit when he heard it. He wanted to trust this guy, but trust was a two-way street.

  Murray stared at Bob for a long moment before asking “Do I look dumb to you?”

  Bob stared right back and remained silent. Murray could see he was contemplating an answer but was it a truth or another sidestep? Another lie? Murray pretended to scratch at an itch, but his nimble fingers caressed the throwing knife, ready to whip it out if needed. He liked Bob so far, but he’d take no chances when it came to protecting the tribe.

  “No, you don’t,” Bob sighed “but some things are secret and are best kept that way.”

  “You’re not from Canada.” Murray said. ‘From the accent, I’d say somewhere down south. You’re not scouting for a new home, either are you?”

  Bob shook his head. Murray wondered what else he was withholding. Was he a runaway from Gordon’s gang? Advance scout for those raiders and cannibals he’d told them about at the breakfast table? Some kind of military guy on a mission?

  “And you didn’t get so beat up by falling out of a tree.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Bob didn’t answer. He had a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Okay, I get it. You’re not going to tell us who you are.” Murray said. “Was anything you said true?”

  Bob came back from wherever his mind had roamed off to. “Most of it. I mean you no harm, I got a little lost, but I need to be on my way. I could use the truck they were talking about; it would save me a lot of time but I’ll leave right now if you think its best.”

  Murray pondered and scratched the little capuchin’s neck. The guy had a way about him. He gave off a steady vibe of danger, but he wasn’t dangerous, at least not towards them. The animals paid him no more mind than any other member of the tribe. They had accepted him in a way they never had with Gordon. He’d been nothing but humble, despite the fact he was hiding something. He was covered with scars and muscles and moved in a fluid way; much like Donny and Swan did after spending so much time with their animals. Murray trusted his gut and held the belt out.

  “No, stay. I don’t think you’re a threat. Your guns and jacket are hanging on the coat rack, just inside the door.” Murray said. He wasn’t done with his interrogation though. Not by a long shot. He was too curious and too clever and the best way to get information was to keep him talking, to get him to let his guard down. To become friends.

  “Your sleep is fitful.” Murray said. “You have nightmares and your tears were blood.”

  Bob looked away without responding. He was granted a reprieve from Murray’s questions when Sage came screeching out of the house and scampered onto Murray’s shoulder. Elmo and Ernie clambered up the chair and across Murray’s body in a desperate attempt to get the cookies the clever capuchin had stolen.

  “Oh, crap.” Murray said. “They got into the cookie jar. Tobias is gonna be pissed.”

  He shooed and swatted at the monkeys until they dispersed. Sage, unwilling to share her loot, raced up one of the poles on the porch. Her brood mates took off in hot pursuit.

  Murray showed Bob around the zoo. He introduced him to the animals that roamed about freely and took him through the shops and garage. There was a lot of stuff crammed in them over the years. The children had no use for most of it and no idea how to use the rest of it. It just gathered dust and rust, but maybe there was something Bob could use from the old tractors covered in weeds and spider webs or the empty cages with their thick steel bars. They would make good reinforcement for the armoring of a vehicle.

  Bob asked a few questions about their security. Murray explained how they monitored the fences daily and controlled the horde at the gates. They were cautious and quiet outside the house, chose stealth to avoid confrontations and would run if the situation allowed it. They were aware of their physical limitations and only chose to fight when there was no choice. Bob nodded his approval.

  Murray showed him a few projects he was working on and needed help with. Bob eagerly pitched in and Murray noticed he was good with his hands and his strength was out of proportion to his size. He wasn’t much bigger than Donny or Kodiak but he easily moved items that the other boys struggled to move together.

  Murray and Bob spent the early afternoon painting the porch. Everyone else hated painting and always had an excuse why they couldn’t help. The traps need checking, I saw some berries down by the shore, there’s a dead limb getting ready to fall on the fence or a hundred other reasons.

  Murray had heard them all. He spent more time in and around the house than any of them. Was it too much to want a freshly painted porch to sit on while he was reading or just enjoying the breeze?

  Bob didn’t seem to mind a bit and he painted all of the high places Murray couldn’t reach. Thrilled at having a captive audience, Murray told him stories of their ordeals. He told him all about Gordon and how they kicked him out after he poisoned their buffalo. He shared some of the details of Gordon’s raids, Lucy’s death and the big battle at the church. There was no pride in telling it. People had died, even though they were bad, it was nothing to be proud of. Bob took it all in. He seemed content in the soothing monotony of moving the brush back and forth against the old cracked boards.

  They fell into an easy, comfortable silence a
s the porch slowly transformed under the new coat of paint. Murray turned and looked towards the river when he heard the grunts of approaching bears.

  Tobias and Analise had brought back baskets of fish and quail and the pride was obvious on their faces.

  “The nets worked.” Tobias bragged. He was proud of the traps him and his sister had woven during the long cold winter. He held it up and displayed the covey of quail inside of it.

  Tobias cut his eyes at Bob. For someone who ate as much as he did and was a guest in their home, he felt like the older boy had gotten off pretty light on helping out. Prettying up the porch wasn’t work. Wounded or not, Tobias thought he didn’t look nearly tired or sweaty enough.

  “Could use some help cleaning them, though. There’s a bunch of them.”

  “Be glad to.” Bob said and wiped his hands on his pants. “But, you’ll have to show me how.”

  Tobias snorted. City boy, he thought He’d starve to death if someone hid the can opener. He totally disregarded the fact that until the outbreak, he’d never fixed anything that didn’t come from the store and the idea of his hands in fish guts would have sent him screaming from the room. Tobias wasn’t impressed by this guy. He didn’t care for the way the girls all mooned over him. He didn’t like the funny feeling he got in his belly when Swan was tripping all over herself in front of him. What was that about anyway? She was like another sister to him. Sure she was pretty and fierce and would make a good Viking but he didn’t like like her. Not like a girlfriend or anything. He shrugged and eyed Bob one more time. Just let him get out of line with Analise and he’d freshen up those black eyes for him.

  Tobias stopped laying out the days catch on the table and muttered when he saw the nearly empty cookie jar. He glared at the stranger.

  “Just had to help yourself didn’t you?”

  Bob looked back at him with a goofy grin and chittered like a monkey.

  “Sage.” Tobias growled. “I swear, I’m going to catch her in the act one of these days and we’re going to have monkey stew.”

  He turned back to the pile of fish and expertly filleted them out in just a few minutes as he muttered about the best way to cook a monkey. When he finished, he turned to watch Bob struggling to clean the quail.

  “Here. Look.” He said.

  Tobias took one of the game hens from the basket and in a few short seconds had it cleaned and laid aside, ready to be washed and fried. Bob caught on quickly and they worked their way through the pile of birds.

  Swan watched from the stairs while the mottled boy focused on prepping their dinner with Tobias. He was even more alluring now that he was awake and alert. His movements were graceful, and efficient, almost animalistic. It reminded her of the way the wolves moved. She could smell the danger on him across the room, he gave off a vibe that was deadly and calm all at the same time. It reminded her of a rattlesnake. He’d be just fine if you left him alone, but anger him and he’d strike. It made her tingly all over. She watched the furrow of his brow, he seemed to be trying to remember something that eluded him.

  She wondered what it would be like to press her lips to his forehead.

  To his lips.

  She blushed. What is wrong with me?

  She’d seen the grins on Tobias and Murray’s faces when she’d been a little too eager to help him get dressed. Felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment, again. She couldn’t believe she was mooning over this stranger. He could be a skilled liar and turn out to be one of Gordon’s guys and she’d end up burying her tomahawk in the same forehead she’d just been daydreaming about kissing. She bit her lower lip, got angry at herself. Angry at Bob for distracting her. She’d spent the last three days watching him sleep and creating a story of who he really was in her mind. He wasn’t a lost soldier, the last of his company. He wasn’t a swashbuckling freebooter searching for survivors. He wasn’t a mighty warrior chief of a noble tribe, he was just some guy from Canada.

  She shook her head, started brushing River again. She should be out hunting Gordon and she finally knew where to start.

  It came to her last night as she lay with her wolves curled up around her, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing. In the old days, if you found somebody laying in the road and wanted to know who that somebody was, oh, say Bob for instance, you looked at their papers. Their high school ID, their library card or driver’s license. Bob didn’t have any, they weren’t important anymore. But Gordon would have left a paper trail. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Gordon was in the store when they found him. He wasn’t shopping; he was there on business with his father, she remembered him mentioning it. His pompous ass would never be caught dead buying second hand military surplus in a place like that. Her heart pounded at the idea that was under her nose the whole time. They’d been back a few times for supplies but never bothered with the office. Nothing much of use in there, just a dusty desk and filing cabinets and out of date MRE’s that would be okay for an emergency. If they ever needed them, they knew where they were. If Gordon and his dad were doing business, probably raising the rent or something, she was certain what she was looking for would be in the paperwork. There would be an address. Gordon’s fathers’ address which meant Gordons address. She would check it out for herself, but first, she was gonna take Bob up on his offer to show them his guns and then she was gonna prod him into sparring with her. She had to know if he was as good as he looked.

  The rest of the tribe filtered into the old house as the sun drifted below the trees and sister moon made her appearance. They plopped down in their favorite spots and swapped stories while they waited on dinner. Tobias the Tyrant abhorred anyone other than Analise in the kitchen while they were cooking and even Kodiak had learned to stay out and not question when dinner would be ready. Vanessa cracked open the book she’d been reading and reclined in a window sill. Harper put the little kids to studying, while the boys worked on the edges of their blades with their whet stones.

  Analise asked Bob to go get some carrots from the greenhouse. She was waiting on him to ask where that was so she could show him. She’d been stuck with Tobias all day as usual and he was working her last nerve. She was disappointed when Swan popped up from where she’s been eavesdropping and said she’d show him.

  Snickers and raised eyebrows followed the pair as they exited the house. Analise swore under her breath. Tobias smirked at her and she punched him in the shoulder. Her brother shrugged it off and dropped a piece of fish into the hot grease.

  “You guys don’t have flashlights?” Bob asked her.

  “Yeah, but Murray said these are less likely to draw unwanted attention. A flashlight beam can be seen for a long way at night.”

  Bob nodded. Swan led him into the greenhouse and they began pulling carrots. She brushed up against him accidentally on purpose. She felt him tense but he didn’t take the bait.

  He didn’t grab her up and kiss her passionately like in the books she’d read or the Hallmark movies she’d seen.

  Her hand accidentally slid across his again.

  When he couldn’t control his passion any longer and took her roughly in his arms, when their lips met in an urgent heat, she would resist of course. She would try to push him away, maybe even slap him. But not very hard.

  He ignored her. She felt a flare of anger. Was she not pretty enough? She’d washed away the war paint and had put on one of Vanessa’s shirts. It was at least a size or two too small. She thought it showed off her budding attributes. She still wore the rest of her armor though and her tomahawks hung at her belt. She would only take those off for one thing. That was still a few years in the future, though.

  Bob broke the awkward silence and asked her about the wolves. She mumbled, still embarrassed at his obliviousness to her flirting. She’d never paid boys too much attention, but this one was different. Maybe she was doing it wrong. She told him about her wolves and how she’d lost Lucy, how she rode a hyena and fought it with her steel. She grew animated at the memo
ries, showed him battle scars. She told him of a glorious hunt in the dead of winter, the tribe on the edge of starvation and considering butchering one of the herd animals. She and her wolves ran for miles and miles, wearing down their prey and coming home with a prime buck in her travois. She showed him the tiny piece of polished antler she wore in one of her braids, a trophy from a momentous hunt. What made it even better was that Donny had come back empty handed that day. She forgot about her silly girl fantasy of kissing in the moonlight and lost herself in the tales. He was easy to talk to and he didn’t just listen to her, he heard her words and understood.

  They gathered the rest of the carrots and made their way back to the house. She did her best to glare at each of the tribe before they even started. It worked. No one made any kissy faces or smart comments.

  Harper ensured everyone washed up properly and they took their places around the table when Tobias started bring out the platters. Plates were piled high and stomachs were stuffed. The animals prowled around the edges looking for handouts. Conversation was easy and sprinkled with laughter. Bob asked them about their time in the zoo and the floodgates opened.

  The tales were somber at first but grew more fanciful as each tried to outdo the others with their stories. The truth stretching went on long after the food was devoured and Swan translated a tale from Donny that included him swinging through the trees like Tarzan. They were silly and fun stories, much better than the truth. The number of zombies slain and the odds against them increased with each telling. Gordon had descended on them with an army of thousands of undead trying to steal Harper and they’d flicked them away like flies. The rescue of the little children took place in the middle of the night with lightening crashing around them and hordes of the undead stretching for miles. They boasted of how Bert could burn down a city if someone was brave enough to light off one his farts and that Ziggy could outrun the fastest cars. The stories got sillier and the children got louder but they never shouted. Never yelled. Even when giggling so hard tears were streaming down their faces, they never lost track of where they were and the danger that was all around them.

 

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