Living Amongst The Dead (Book 3): On the Road Again

by J. N. Morgan

  Nicky was up ahead with her own pack, loaded with one of the water bottles, some of the ammo she’d scavenged in Strathcom before they left, her ‘love egg’ masturbation aid, as well as an electric lantern along with a respectable amount of batteries. Batteries that could be used in both electronic devices. There was also a book that she didn’t have a whole lot of interest in reading, and some other little knickknacks from what had been her bedroom for years. Looking back at the two, they were terribly slow compared to the pace that she was capable of, however though she didn’t know the nearby man could easily keep pace with her even with all his hefty equipment, that is, if he weren’t presently wounded.

  “Here. It’s lighter.” She had slowed down until turning, and was now closing the gap, her own pack outstretched. The woman who had nearly killed him, the one who sometimes secretly wishes she had, none the less secretly wished he were at least dead by some other means, was now offering to trade packs with Tiffany. She stopped, sweat on her brow, breathing heavily, feet incredibly sore, but she seen the look in the man’s eyes. He’d once sent himself into unconsciousness from having moved his arm just because she gestured towards his rifle that had been leaning against the corner between a wall and bookshelf. The concept of her carrying the things that had kept him alive all this time, it was not a welcome one, even if there mere fact he were still alive was technically thanks to her.

  The tired and motherly woman gave a weak smile to her friend, but shook her head.

  “Oh come on. Man the fuck up; Tiffy’s beating up her feet because of your shit, because you’re too fucking weak to carry it, so let me. What, you think that because I’m black-” Richard was already groaning and rolling his eyes, “-I’m going to steal it?” Giving an impatient look, he just frowned at her, knowing that anything he could possibly say would neither end nor lessen the argument. There was nothing he could do to calm or improve the situation, because he really didn’t want to see his things in her possession.

  “No, Nicky, it’s ok…” she said mildly with a small grin, just wishing not to have a fight. Her shoulders moved, jostling the pack around, things clunking and clinking against each other inside. Though the oldest of the three wanted a break, mostly for her feet, they continued to walk along as their amount of sunlight lessened minute by minute. They would make more distance by giving the person who is currently the strongest of the three the heaviest of the gear. Light caught their attention, beaming brightly from just down the road, and all three looked towards it while blocking their eyes. It still wasn’t all that dark; their eyes were still adjusted for relatively good lighting, but it was so bright that it forced them to squint.

  “Put the guns down!” Richard’s mind quickly went to the pistol on his hip, but with his hand up near his face it would be suicide to go for it if any of the people near the light already had firearms on them, and chances are they did. “PUT THE GUNS DOWN, NOW!” A masculine voice called out demandingly, and the sound of a metallic action cycling let them know that an attempt at retaliation was not the smartest thing to do right now.

  The man raised an arm up, Tiff noticed as she squinted at the light and followed suit, but Veronica was trying to see through slots in the fingers of her left hand, to try and count how many there were, meanwhile her right hand remained at her side near the grip area of the slung SKS. Near the edge of the road. Trees for cover? A bit of a run but should be able to make it. Tiffy and dickhead were in the road though. Fuck him, but she’d be putting her at risk.

  “Put your hands UP!”

  “My right arm is fucked up, I have it in a sling!” Richard called after having grasped his rifle but the sling and knelt down to put it on the ground; it was useless to him anyways. Tiffany have already done the same, keeping her hands well away from the trigger, and also put that heavy pack down finally. Some of the barely visible individuals were approaching while the light remained steady on the road, pointed in their direction.

  “Turn around and get on your knees; we won’t hurt you!” A woman called out this time, and though their torsos were made impossible to see due to the light, their legs could barely be made out. Each step steady, careful, and deliberate. The sort of steps you’d make if you had a rifle shouldered, trying to keep it steady as you moved; there was no getting out of this situation.

  “Richie…” Tiff gave worriedly as she slowly began to turn, and he turned the opposite ways, towards her.

  “It’ll be ok, baby…” he gave her a smile, weak; the words he spoke were not true to his own beliefs. He didn’t know if they’d be ok or not. They might be executed right there on the road, either quickly with a bullet or in a struggling panic by a sliced throat, those were two likely options.

  “GET DOWN!” Veronica called as she broke off in a sprint to the left, towards the nearby trees, unslinging her rifle. If a wild spray or volley of gunfire were sent their way then hopefully, even if they got her, Tiffy would be spared.

  “HEY!” “WOAH!” A few of them exclaimed as their bodies twitched, throwing their attention at the dark woman as she ran and handled her rifle. THW-THWACK-THWACK!

  “NICKYYYY!” Tiff cried to her right as she knelt with her hands raised, and the young warrior fell to the ground with a cry, rolling to a stop, her rifle left behind.

  “AAAAAAGH!” Richard let out a roar of pain as he was pushed to his stomach, right arm jostling, and their African-Canadian comrade groaned as three of the strangers circled her, holding their bows with nocked arrows at the ready. Soon she too was pushed down onto the pavement, wrists pulled to the small of her back, and some rope lashed them in place. They’d been taken.

  CHAPTER 4

  She hissed as they applied some alcohol to the wound to sterilize it. One of the arrows had sliced along her calf muscle, not quite just a flesh-wound but not so deep as to render her immobile either. The shock certainly sent her tumbling however. Luckily the other two arrows missed entirely, well, save for one that went through her coat that had come a bit loose in her sprint. That was very unfortunate, but at least she were still alive.

  “Told you it would sting a little.” The grey-haired woman said, a pony tail running down to the small of her back. The smell of cannabis perfumed her, tickling the nose, and Richard nearby having been a stoner once upon a time quite enjoyed the scent. Nicky herself had never tried it, but was certainly open minded about it. Applying a simple cloth bandage, wrapping it around her dark leg, an unwounded portion of skin was tapped to tell her she was finished and so the limb was brought away, the black denim of her jeans carefully pushed down over it.

  She then went to the white man, whom she’d apologized to about how roughly he had been handled, and the fellow who had so harshly put him to the ground had come forward with apology earlier as well. Believed him to be lying, potentially hiding a knife or a handgun or something. It was still very sore, the area inflamed, however begrudgingly he plastered a smile on and nodded, saying it was ok. It made logical sense, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Ultimately considering that they were now disarmed while those around them were armed, and complete strangers, they were lucky even to still be alive let alone being treated.

  Tiffany watched the kindly Native woman help Rich out of his sweater and t-shirt, at which point the nurse or doctor was informed of who had cauterized the wound as well as made the sling in which the arm rested. Body turning, wise eyes outlined by happy wrinkled studied her for a moment while candles flickered light about them. The Sun was very low, not much light left after being herded to where they now were, and it gave a calmness, a peacefulness, to the situation. On the road with the women’s wrists bound and his own left arm kept locked behind him, it felt like they were walking to their deaths, to somewhere where it would be convenient to finish them off.

  All the way, they’d been cursed and threatened, accused of being with ‘them’. Who were ‘them’, or rather, ‘they’? Well it didn’t take long to figure out that ‘they’ were the ones near the gas stati
ons a while back. The cannibals, the ones that technically Nick had ‘jumped the gun’ on with the kid, but in retrospect it’s better that they ended up taking the violent route instead of trying to talk things out. Without the element of surprise, though to be fair it kind of went both ways since neither group expected the other, they likely would have ended up bearing the brunt of the unfortunate disadvantage of numbers. It had been, what, 4 vs 6? 7 if you count the perpetrator of the murder/suicide who had fired upon Veronica. 8 if you count the kid who turned. All that with poor Johnathan being a pacifist, Richard being quite injured, and his woman being more-or-less completely new to actual fighting.

  Once it was quickly realized, however, that they weren’t with the gang that had evidently been causing this group grief, their attitudes changed dramatically. The claim that the group, or at least a portion of said group, had been killed was met with very reasonable skepticism.

  “Not bad…” the woman gave before turning back to the wound. “Going to be scarred like a bastard, but not bad.” Initially the comment brought a grin out of Tiffany, though it faded at hearing he’d be terribly scarred.

  “Cool, chicks dig scars.” Giving a wink past his much more professional nurse or doctor or whatever she may have been before all this, Tiff brightened up again, giving a broad smile beneath her faintly pudgy nose. A feature he was coming to like more and more as time went on; he certainly liked his women with some softness to them.

  “Weeeell… it’s a silver lining I guess. Now tell me if this h-” her rough voice came out a bit skeptically however was soon drowned out by the man’s cry of pain, left hand grasping her wrist sharply.

  “Oh! Sorry about that… my, that’s not good…” his hairy barrel chest expanded and contracted quickly, a shot of adrenaline sent through him from the surge of pain. “You might have some bone shrapnel in there, dear.”

  “Doesn’t sound too great…” he managed to grown out, face twisted with the effort to focus on anything but his shoulder right now. It didn’t look overly bad on the surface though. “So, what, is it lethal?” The exact thing that had been on Tiff’s mind as well, and though Nicky hid it well she was secretly excited at the prospect.

  “Oh no, no, well not usually but no, you should be ok. Healthy young fellow like you.” A bit of sweat dripping down his brow, he nodded, face not showing much relief however looking at the faint look of optimism on his lover, he flashed a smile her way.

  In that dimly candle-lit room, a flicker struck the dancing little fires as the door swung open suddenly, interrupting the four. Outside a good-sized fire was burning brightly and warmly, people sitting all around it. A few were white, even a black person or two, however most seemed to be Native. The man who came through the door now was a very broad fellow. Perhaps average height, around Veronica’s perhaps, a touch shorter than Richard, but clearly quite muscled. This was the first that either of the three strangers had seen of him, but he dominated the room.

  “We’ll send Malcolm out to have a look at the place. Brit kicked up a stink, but they both know he can do better on his own than with others. So how’re they doing?” He could feel the floor shuddering beneath his boots as the great man approached, coming next to the person who had treated him as well as Nicky.

  “Only a flesh wound on the runner, really, and this one won’t be causing us any trouble.” He gave a nervous nod of recognition coupled with a mild smile. This guy seemed like he’d be the head honcho, and he was a little bit close for his liking.

  “Yup, looks like he’s seen better days…” leaning down, his face had grey stubble but he seemed like the kind of guy who would normally remain clean shaven. A pony tail was down his back as well, just like the woman, and the eyes on his tough, leathery face narrowed as he inspected the burnt and marred flesh. Going ‘round the check the back of it, a bit of an exclamation came, and having never seen the state of the back of his shoulder himself he did find it a bit worrying. Still, tried to keep up a casual air.

  “So I guess my modeling career is over.” He gave.

  It was met with the smallest of “heh”s, a low chuckle as he returned to standing, circling back to his front. “So you say you killed… how many?” They must have told it to half a dozen people by now already.

  “About 6 in total, and they got one of ours. I got 1, and Veronica there got 5.” Nodding to the thin black woman off to the side, barely in candle light, the man turned to have a look at her.

  “A regular Rambo, huh?” His gruff voice gave, even rougher than Johnathan’s had been. Being compared to a man, she bristled somewhat at this.

  “I did what I had to do, as any strong woman would…” no attempt was made to curb her fiery attitude, even though she sat unarmed and injured in the face of a man who was likely several times as strong as her, no doubt able to kill her with her bare hands if need be, or could very well get a bow from one of his fellow survivors to make further target practice of her.

  “Some spunk in this one.” Turning to the woman helping Richard back into his clothing, he jabbed his head in the young one’s direction. Said older woman gave a chuckle.

  “Well at least it’s something. Trying to make a stand when people are already aiming weapons at you isn’t the smartest move in the world.” To this even Richard nodded with a grunt. Had she been more compliant, he probably wouldn’t have been forced to the ground as roughly as he had.

  “I’m not just going to lie down to be executed! For all I knew you were all going to kill us!”

  “For all you knew, we might not have had any intention of harming any of you, or we might have only intended to kill you if one of you tried to fight back, or maybe we would have only killed the one who tried to resist. Lucky for you, and I think it’s pretty obvious at this point…” looking around the room as though it proved his point; no armed guards or anything around. “… we don’t kill unless absolutely necessary. You’re lucky we only wounded you; one of the arrows could have gotten you in the neck, or the chest.”

  She folded her arms in front of herself, looking thoroughly displeased at her bravery and courage being questioned, or even mistook for stupidity.

  “Anyways, we can’t give you back your weapons yet. You can leave without them if you want however I doubt you will want to do that. Stay here, rest, we’ll feed you, and we’ll find out if all this is true tomorrow… any questions?”

  “Er, yeah, I just want to make absolutely sure; so we’ll get our things back once our story is confirmed?” It was bothering him to no end that his trusty rifle and pistol were outside of arm’s reach. Felt like the first time in months that he had neither available to him.

  “That’s right. If you’ve truly taken those peckers out, then you can’t be all that bad. Besides, we’ve got you outnumbered so it would be very stupid to try and attack us once you get them back.”

  “Speaking of which, I didn’t see any of your men using rifles?” All that had been used were bow and arrows, however most of the ones who had ambushed them did have rifles slung over their back. Primarily bolt-actions, it was noted.

  “Most of our guns were taken from us, those that we didn’t have hidden; our hunting rifles.” This man’s voice, though rough, had an almost soothing and wise feature about it. “We normally just keep them here unless we send some people out to hunt, but we had a party set up down the road to ambush ‘them’ if they tried to come at night. They’d taken us by surprise initially, over a month ago. Took our best guns, and continue to take much of the food we grow and the meat we hunt and trap. We plan to fight back.” At this point he was standing before Richard again, and now leaned in ominously.

  “If it turns out they’re still alive, and that you’re lying…” direct eye contact, and his head began to nod slowly as though to confirm that what he spoke was the truth, “… we’ll kill you. The three of you. Just as they had killed some of us.”

  The much younger white man initially had quite obvious worry in his eyes, but then the raised eyeb
rows lowered as he leaned slightly forward as well, thankfully now with his torso fully clothed again.

  “They had killed one of ours as well… Johnathan. He was a priest.” This time it was the broad fellow who faltered, returning to standing and shaking his head sadly.

  “We could have used a man like that… I’m sorry for your loss.” A couple backwards steps were taken until he was next to the similarly elderly woman. The proximity and casualness of the two suggested they were married, or at least very close friends.

  “Sorry for yours as well. There will be a fair few rifles there though, perhaps some were yours. I was rather hoping we could keep it, but there was also a Ruger 10/22 however we took that. I figured Tiff could use it, since she’s not too familiar with firearms. If it’s owned by one of yours, though, then…” looking to the woman, she quickly and aggressively nodded, assuring them that they can keep it if it was one of theirs.

  “Ruger… is that a little rifle? With a curving clip?” Richard held back the cringe inside at the magazine being called a ‘clip’.

  “Magazine, but yeah, it’s already been take-”

  “Wooden butt?” The interrogation went on, and he nodded slowly, not knowing where this was going.

  “A boy who was with them had it.” The two retirees looked to one another knowingly.

  “Was that kid… from here?” The white man asked, and Nicky was feeling decidedly on edge though continued to maintain her stony appearance.

  “We’ll look into this matter further. Did you tell the others about it, the ones who brought you here?”

  “We told them a lot of things, umm…” he looked to Tiff, then to Veronica. To be fair, they hadn’t said much, especially not Nick, so that probably played to their advantage. “I don’t… think… we told them about the boy.”