Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2)

by Dulaney, C.

  “Damn, I could really go for a fajita right now,” Jake said just before turning up a bottle of Coke and taking a long drink.

  I smiled and dug the pack of Camels from my back pocket, watching Michael and John put their heads together.

  “We’re good on ammo, but I don’t think it matters, John.” He looked out over the bodies, rubbed his chin, then returned his worried eyes to John’s. “What the hell do we do now?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But I do know we’re not asking that douchebag Harvel. This is our house, and we’re calling the shots from now on. You with me, Mikey?” There was definitely a hint of malice in his voice.

  As I took a long drag of my cigarette, I decided that John had been a prisoner before the shit hit the fan.

  Part Two:

  Jail Break

  Chapter Eight

  March 24th: Just After Nightfall

  “Goddamnit, Jonah.” Jake slammed his hand of cards down onto the makeshift table.

  “C’mon now, don’t be sore,” the scruffy cowboy from, you guessed it, Texas, teased, swiping his hand across the top of the cooler and pulling back his hard-earned winnings.

  Jonah looked like something that had just walked out of a Western. From what we’d been able to gather from his sparse and random stories throughout the afternoon, he was a drifter who’d been working his way across the country, hitching rides and hoofing it when he had to, for no other reason than “it seemed like the thing to do.” Sounded a little shady to me, but it wasn’t any of my business.

  Jake had talked and joked with the stoic outlaw all day, trying to get a reaction out of him. It had turned into a little game: Push the Cowboy ‘til He Snaps. Suffice it to say he had failed miserably, and, much to my surprise, hadn’t even been able to get a simple shut-the-hell-up out of Jonah. Finally Jake had asked him about his rifle. Yes, that’s all it took. Half a day later, we found ourselves sitting around a cooler, playing poker with a guy who looked like he’d rather piss on you than say hello. And these boys weren’t playing for money, they were playing for chores, and so far Jake was losing his ass.

  “You sure as hell didn’t learn to play poker from your Grandma,” Mia said, remembering all the nights she and Nancy had stayed up until after midnight playing cards at Crousley’s house. All the nights she had lost just as badly as Jake was losing now.

  “Eat it.” Jake took a long swig from his bottle of Bud Light.

  Our new friend just smirked and shuffled the cards again.

  We’d been sitting around all day, watching the perimeter and waiting for the swarm to move. Waiting, watching, sweating our asses off in the early-spring sun. Some snipers had drifted on and off the wall, tired of sitting, taking turns with bathroom breaks. When lunchtime had rolled around, Nancy and the old doctor came up with trays of sandwiches. Michael, John, and the rest of Michael’s men had tossed ideas around, none of which seemed to satisfy everyone. After napping for the tenth time, and after eating a quick supper supplied once again by Nancy and the doctor, I’d settled myself down to watch the card game and tried my best not to lose my grip on the last sliver of patience I had left.

  The spotlights all around the prison had been turned on, lighting up the surrounding area and perimeter fence. It was eerie, staring out to the end of the light, and hearing those damn moans coming from just beyond the darkness. Eerie and claustrophobic. I still couldn’t believe the swarm hadn’t moved yet. Granted, the terrain of the land the prison sat on wasn’t something a zombie could move around on easily, but knowing the only thing driving them was an intense urge to feed, thereby ensuring the survival of the virus, you’d think they would have walked around the pile of bodies by now and came at the fence from a new direction.

  Stupid zombies.

  “C’mon, Daddy needs a week off from clean-up duty,” Jonah mumbled to himself, looking at his last card. I noticed Mia had that crooked little smile on her face again, one she had been sporting most of the afternoon once Jonah had introduced himself to us.

  Good for her, I thought, Girls always did love cowboys. Then, out of nowhere, I thought of Zack. My palms suddenly became so sweaty I almost dropped my beer bottle.

  Don’t do this. Don’t you dare cry.

  “Hey.” Mia touched my knee.

  I looked over at her and blinked a few times, sucking it up. She patted my knee and turned back to the game, knowing what I was thinking as best friends usually do. I handed what was left of my beer to Jake; I’d had enough and there was too much going on to get shitfaced again. Besides, I knew that if I kept it up, drinking would quickly turn into a problem, one I couldn’t afford to have right now.

  “Thanks, Boss,” he said and finished it off.

  Nancy was gone, having joined the rest of Kelly’s crew in the cafeteria. Michael had decided sometime before supper to move them someplace more comfortable than the garage, but still wanted to keep them together in case they needed to make a run for it. That left either the cafeteria or the gym, so they opted for the former since it had tables and chairs. Let alone food and an exit that led straight to the garage through a series of corridors.

  With Nancy gone and these two jokers engrossed in a poker game, I found myself thinking about things I shouldn’t have been thinking about. The background music didn’t help matters much. I looked around and studied the other people on the wall, trying to get my mind off Zack, Ben, my family, and the general bleakness of our current situation. There was one other card game going on down at the far end, by the staircase. Another small group of snipers were sitting together on my other side, bullshitting and remembering the “good old days.” On the other side of that group, huddled in the shadows of the newly-remodeled “dormitory” building, was a couple of snipers making out like there was no tomorrow. Hell, maybe there wouldn’t be.

  I turned towards the courtyard. Cal, Smith (I still didn’t know his first name), Martin, Michael, and John were standing in a close circle discussing something that seemed important by the way they kept gesturing and flinging their hands around. I tried to listen in, until I realized that was pointless. The moans drowned out anything that wasn’t going on directly beside you.

  “I’m gonna stretch my legs a bit.”

  Mia grunted but kept her eyes on the drama unfolding in front of her. She had already folded after Jake raised, twice. Jonah hadn’t blinked, just kept that icy-cool stare fixed on Jake and matched each of the younger man’s bets. He definitely didn’t strike me as the type of poker player you could bluff easily, or even the type you’d want to play unless trouble was all you were looking for.

  “Ma’am,” Jonah said and tipped his hat. He was leaned back in his seat, his legs stretched out next to the cooler, his old beat-up boots crossed at the ankles. Jonah rapped his knuckles on the cooler top, inaudibly calling Jake’s hand.

  Of course, Jake reacted as Jake tends to do.

  “Fuck you, cowboy.” He laid his hand down. “Two pair, kings high. Hope you enjoy burnin’ deadheads, Jonah.” Jake leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

  Jonah stared at Jake for a long time, his poker face impeccable, his eyes peering out from under the brim of his hat, and for a split-second I thought the cowboy might draw his gun and shoot Jake. When he finally spread his cards out in front of him, I realized how ridiculous that thought had been. This wasn’t the old west and it sure as hell wasn’t a movie.

  “Goddamnit, Jonah!” Jake yelled and pounded the cooler with his fist.

  Mia laughed loudly, the kind of unbridled resonance that says, I don’t give a damn who’s watching, and was still doing so when I started down the staircase. It was surreal, hearing that with a chorus of moaning in the background. I fished another Camel from the shirt pocket of the flannel I had pulled on just after dark and lit up as I crossed the damp grass. I figured I would hit the ladies room first in the dorm, then walk around the courtyard once before heading back to the wall.

  Thirty minutes later (I took my t
ime, no reason to hurry), refreshed and ready to sit on my ass for another few hours staring at nothing, I rambled past Michael and the others and overheard part of the argument before they noticed my approach.

  “…know the sonofabitch is a Minion of the Antichrist. Jesus-wept people, you’re not seriously telling me we should talk to him? Are you?” Martin was saying.

  The other men looked at each other, then back to Martin, who was seriously fuming at this point. I eased up behind Smith and looked around the circle.

  “Hey there, Bullseye, how’s the situation up top?” John asked.

  Bullseye? Better than some things I’d been called lately.

  “Same as before. Nothing to report.” I dropped the butt and snubbed it out with the toe of my boot, adjusted the sling on my shoulder, and looked off across the yard. “On my way back now, just needed to stretch my legs a bit.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know if there’s a change. I’ll be up as soon as we straighten this problem out.” John leaned closer and his voice took on a scheming tone. “Shit, we’ve been arguing so long I’m not even sure what the problem is anymore.”

  I didn’t want to get mixed up in their business, and they hadn’t asked for my opinion. Hell, I was just trying to keep me and mine alive until we could get out of this place. If we were in fact leaving, that is. I hadn’t talked it over with the others yet.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Martin began just as I had turned to leave.

  His hands were on his hips and his chest was puffed up, but even then he was still no bigger than a minute. “This dumb peckerwood wants to ask the Warden what to do. The Warden!” He threw his hands up and turned away, kicking the dirt and swearing under his breath.

  “Now hold on just a second, Martin. I didn’t say I wanted to ask the Warden anything. Just that he should be brought up to speed. And you never know, he might actually have an idea, something we haven’t been able to think of so far,” Cal explained.

  I assumed Cal was the peckerwood Martin had been referring to. Smith was quiet as usual, but the look on Michael and John’s faces said it all. No way in hell anyone was telling the Warden anything unless it was eat-shit-and-die.

  “We’re not talking to the Warden. End of discussion. So, Martin, cool your jets. Now. And Cal, take a walk. I want everyone calmed down and back on the wall in fifteen,” Michael ordered.

  “Shit,” Cal grumbled, turned on his heel and strode off, sulking the entire way.

  Martin seemed to be a little calmer now, his face wasn’t as red and he wasn’t kicking the ground. Smith made a gesture with his head and together he and Martin walked off towards the cafeteria.

  “Call in the others, have them all meet on the wall. But make sure at least one stays behind on each roof to keep watch. Get everyone together and hope someone has a realistic plan for taking care of that swarm,” Michael instructed John before turning to me.

  “You have any ideas, Kasey?”

  Once again I had to stop and turn around, when all I wanted to do was get back to my own business of keeping watch and making sure Jake didn’t piss off Clint Eastwood’s evil twin.

  “Oh, yeah. Uh, you should probably ask the folks up top first, ‘cause mine’s a little crazy.”

  “Crazy as in?” he asked.

  His hesitation was obvious. That was understandable, he didn’t know me very well. Hell, hardly at all. As far as he knew, crazy from me meant walking out to the fence and tossing bologna over the gate.

  “Well, crazy as in explosives.” I crossed my arms. “But like I said, you should really ask the others for ideas first, use mine as a last resort.”

  Michael’s eyebrow shot up and John was grinning.

  “Good with a gun and likes to blow shit up? That’s my kind of crazy, Bullseye.” John patted me hard on the back and headed towards the wall.

  “Alright then, let’s get up there,” Michael said and motioned for me to lead the way.

  My cool demeanor may have been fooling the guys, but if Mia had seen me light up yet another Camel, she would have known right away that my nerves were getting the best of me.

  * * *

  After holding a meeting with all the snipers, and getting nowhere with ideas, Michael relieved most of them so they could head back to their rooms and catch a few hours of sleep. It was closing in on eleven p.m., and there was no second-string to come up and take our places. Michael decided we would sleep in shifts, including the few stationed on the rooftops, so everyone would be at least a bit refreshed and not sleep deprived once the sun came up.

  Jake, Mia, Jonah, and myself volunteered to stay up for First Watch. Abigail was taking the first shift on the eastern roof, Martin on the western roof, and Smith on the southern. John, Michael, and the rest hit the sack for at least the next three hours. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do until the situation could be resolved. Kelly, Nancy, and the others holed up in the cafeteria had also been told to go back to the dorm, as long as those in charge kept a radio by their ears and a gun by their beds.

  I was thinking, huddled up in my chair staring out into the darkness, if this was something we’d have to get used to. This particular situation, deadheads forever at the fence. I suppose, as long as the fence held, these people could learn to live this way. I say ‘these people’ because I wasn’t yet sure if I wanted to stay with them. I hadn’t been back to the room yet, so I had no idea if the moaning penetrated the walls of the dormitory, but if they did, folks could always learn to sleep with ear plugs.

  Mia and Jonah were off to my left, sitting in silence and sharing the last cold Coke from the cooler. Jake kept falling asleep in his chair on my right, so I had to keep poking him with my boot. Michael had left me in charge of the radio, which I was sorely tempted to use just to have someone to talk to. I figured Abby was awake, but I didn’t really know anything about her besides what Jake had told me. It was safe to assume that “havin’ a smokin’ body” didn’t automatically mean she was a great conversationalist.

  Smith was useless as well; I hadn’t heard the boy utter more than three words since we’d arrived. Martin was alright, I could have radioed him. Except he was high-strung and had a quick temper. Probably not the type to sit back and hold a bullshit session with a relative stranger. As I sat there going down the list of possible radio-buddies, it suddenly hit me: where the hell was Calvin? I searched my memory for the last time I’d seen him. Surely it was after the argument in the yard? Granted, I hadn’t paid much attention after coming back to the wall because Michael had been asking everyone for ideas. He was there wasn’t he? At the “meeting?” The more I thought about it, the more I was sure he hadn’t been. And the more I was sure he had went off, half-cocked, to talk to the Warden after Michael had told him not to.

  “Hey, Jake,” I said and kicked him in the thigh.

  He jumped and woke up suddenly, grabbing at the gun propped against his leg and shifting around in his seat. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Everything’s fine. Listen, when’s the last time you remember seeing Cal?”

  I leaned over with my elbow propped on my knee, my tone anxious and rushed. If Cal had gone to see Harvel and hadn’t been seen since, it seemed logical to me that the Warden had done something to him. Of course that could have been my keen sense of paranoia talking.

  After Jake rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed my concern and straightened in his chair. “Now, which one is he again?”

  “One of Michael’s buddies. About my height, curly black hair. Kinda jumpy, like a rabbit,” I explained, motioning with my hands.

  Jake thought a moment, then his eyes grew wide. “Oh yeah, that dude. Hell, I haven’t seen him since the bunch of you were down in the courtyard havin’ your little powwow.”

  “You don’t remember seeing him after that, when Michael was up here talking to everybody?” I was starting to have a very bad feeling about this.

  “No, I don’t remember seein’ him, Kase
. But you know, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here. There was like, fifteen people up here. And to be honest, they were all startin’ to look alike after a six-pack, know what I mean?”

  “Last time I saw Cal was after he’d been arguing with Martin about talking to the Warden. Cal wanted to, the others didn’t. Then Michael told them to go chill out, Cal stomped off, and I really don’t remember seeing him since. What if he did go to Harvel’s office? You remember what type of mood that asshole was in the last time we saw him.”

  “You thinkin’ Cal went to Harvel, then there was some kind of trouble?”

  I nodded and glanced over towards Mia. She was snickering at something Jonah was saying as he gestured towards the outer fence and the swarm on the other side. I picked the radio up from where it rested on the cooler and called for Smith.

  “Go ahead, Kasey,” he answered.

  “Did Cal ever come back? Is he in his room sleeping, or is he on watch somewhere?” I asked, knowing damn well Cal wasn’t on the wall or on any of the three rooftops.

  Jake and I stared at the radio for several minutes waiting for Smith to reply. I didn’t hear him asking anyone else, so I stood and turned towards the southern wall. He was standing close to the courtyard-edge of the roof, looking around. I glanced over to where Martin was posted and saw him doing the same thing.

  “What’s going on, guys?” Abigail’s voice said over the radio. I glanced to the eastern roof and saw her walking over to the edge.

  “We don’t know where Calvin is,” I told her. I quickly glanced back towards Martin, who was holding his hands up in an I-have-no-idea gesture. “Smith, any idea?”