Road to Grissom: Part three of the Aftermath series

by Duncan McArdle

  Jennifer remained silent, still not convinced.

  “Hell you can even share some food if you want”, John finally said.

  Suddenly Jennifer perked up, looking between the men in front with significantly wider eyes. “That alright with you kid?”, she asked of Danny.

  Danny looked from side to side, catching eyes with both Devon and John separately, before eventually returning to the attractive girl in front. “Fine”, he said, “But keep that gun away from me”.

  “Don’t worry”, Jennifer replied with a grin, “It might not even be loaded”.

  Chapter 16: Shifts

  3AM is an interesting time in any city. Once upon a time it might have marked the loud and rambunctious kick-out time of the many local nightclubs and bars, throwing their drunken patrons to the curb where they could continue to yell and scream obscure song lyrics before heading home. In more rural parts it might represent a time of day where nothing at all stirred for miles, no vehicles, no animals, no anything. But now, at a point in the world’s history where a new creature dominates the land, things were a little different.

  The dead aren’t concerned with time. Most have vision poor enough to barely notice changes in light, meaning the time of day is but a minor temperature change to their surprisingly resilient-to-the-elements corpses. Few remained in good enough condition to really notice when the sun set, but none at all had the brainpower to understand what it meant. The reality of course was that it meant their favourite type of food – living humans – were suddenly much more scarce, with any sane person heading for shelter during the long, dark nights. But without the ability to comprehend such a phenomenon, the dead simply continued to wander, longingly hoping they might run into some unfortunate soul out for a late-night stroll, their drooping mouths salivating at the very thought.

  It came as no surprise then, that at 3AM, in a city once as bustling as Chicago, a group of survivors opted to stay the night indoors, listening and watching as the occasional biter ambled past, waiting for the sun to rise so their respective journeys could continue on. Between John and his two fellow guards, and their newfound fellow survivor Jennifer, two distinct stories were playing out, but at this point, both were going through the same chapter; shelter.

  At just a hair past 3AM, a gently placed but nevertheless bulky boot made the slightest of contacts with John’s shoulder, stirring him awake and sending him into an autopilot mode that saw him absentmindedly grab the pistol he kept on his person at all times, before assessing just what exactly had awoken him. As it turned out, a stoic looking Devon – who was familiar with John’s wakeup ritual and so had taken a step back accordingly – was the man responsible, and was simply signalling that the next stage of the night was about to begin.

  “You’re up”, he said, waiting long enough to make sure John had fully awoken, before turning and heading over to one of the offices nearest the door.

  During his previous three hours on duty, Devon had interspersed countless laps of the building’s interior with attempts to create something close to a bedroom for him to sleep in. Having spent the first three hours of the night asleep on the floor, with little more than a stack of paper and some spare clothing to rest his head on, he’d been determined to find something better for the final three hours, during which he would once again be able to rest. From the various rooms in the vicinity he’d managed to obtain a pillow, as well as a number of sofa cushions and a variety of thick coats, all of which he’d combined to make something close to a sofa bed. Locking the door of the office he’d chosen for his improvised bedroom behind him as he entered, Devon lay down on his makeshift bed, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

  Back in the main reception area, himself perfectly happy to sleep on the floor with a pair of boots as his only head support, John Parker slowly stood up from his own sleeping position, and proceeded to crick and crack his various joints and bones out of the awkward position they’d settled in for the last six hours of regularly interrupted slumber. Quietly John then laced up his boots, ensured his pistol remained loaded and ready for action, re-holstered the weapon, and then began inspecting the area.

  As best as he could tell, little had changed during his downtime. Judging by the two closed office doors – only one of which he’d just seen Devon disappear behind – he imagined that Danny, who had been the first to go on shift, had also assembled his own bedroom. But most importantly of all, John could see that their new arrival Jennifer remained curled up on the sofa in the waiting area, draped in coats and looking surprisingly peaceful all things considered.

  John’s decision to have Danny stand guard first had been an intentional one. At that point in time, Danny – Jennifer’s former hostage – had been the least trusting of the girl, and as per usual was the most nervous in the group. Accordingly, it had seemed appropriate to place him in charge of keeping an eye on her first, his natural distrust the perfect method of ensuring he remained as vigilant as possible.

  He’d also wanted himself to go last. Without knowing this new girl’s true plans, there was no telling when she’d want to leave. John imagined that she was smart enough not to try anything in the first few hours of the night, but he was less sure about the remainder. Accordingly, he’d opted to place Devon in charge during the middle portion – where heading out would be near suicide, but still remained an option – and had himself taken the last shift, the most likely point of exit for the newcomer.

  In any case, whether his shift was first, second or third, it remained a long three hours of having nothing to do, but needing desperately to stay awake. Thanks to his six hours of slumber – albeit not of the best quality – he felt reasonably refreshed, so there wasn’t too much of a chance he’d succumb to the temptations of sleep, but that didn’t do much to help take care of the monotony of guarding a silent, still room for three straight hours, alone.

  Beginning his first walk around, John first made his way into the women’s bathroom. He’d wanted to give the room another looking over ever since Jennifer had emerged from inside, but had felt doing so while the girl was awake might give the impression he was distrusting of her. Of course, she knew better than to think a stranger would trust her at all in this new world, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea for John to shove that in her face.

  Inside the four stalls remained open, and the sinks were exactly as they’d been left; slightly filled with whatever water had been left in the system, presumably drank from by Jennifer and whoever else might have visited previously. Making his way between the first three stalls, John checked to ensure nothing had changed in the previously unoccupied spaces, and then moved onto the last.

  Measuring barely two metres deep, there was little to no room for any surprises to be contained in the small space. Straight away John could see a pair of footprints matching the boots of the new girl, placed on either side of the toilet seat and showing exactly how she’d managed to avoid being spotted when John looked underneath the cubicles. John couldn’t help but smile upon realising what a simple thing she’d done to avoid being detected any earlier than necessary.

  Other than that, the stall was empty. There were no items taped to the back of the door, nothing was stuffed behind the toilet itself, and after quickly removing the lid of the toilet’s tank, nothing stashed away inside other than a bare few millilitres of water. John looked at the small amount of water that hadn’t already been taken, briefly considering whether to top up the bottles with a little more of the precious, drinkable liquid, but decided against it. If someone else had drained it but left this amount in, there was a good chance there was a reason, and John wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what that was.

  Satisfied the stall had nothing of any interest, and no further clues regarding their tenant for the night, John left through the open stall door and gave one final look to the sinks. Although the remaining water in each told him that someone had stayed here a significant amount of time, it didn’t tell him whether that someone was Jennif
er, or whether it was perhaps some other person, or people, at an earlier date. The women’s restroom was a bust, but it had at least taken up a couple minutes of his three hours.

  Upon making his way back out of the open bathroom door, John’s mind quickly put together a series of changes in his surroundings, and he froze on the spot. Suddenly his eyes began darting from side to side, analysing changes and forming plans, preparing to respond to anything that might be about to happen. Jennifer was no longer on the sofa, but her bag remained. The girl was unaccounted for, and she wasn’t leaving.

  “Jesus relax would you”, came an even huskier than usual morning tone, emerging from the men’s restroom and drawing attention – as well as the aim of his pistol – in its direction. “Your eyes look like they’re about to pop out of your skull”.

  “What were you doing!?”, John demanded, “Where did you go?”.

  “Uhh… I was taking a pee?”, Jennifer said sarcastically, apparently having imagined that emerging from the bathroom more than answered such a question.

  “In there?”, John asked, nodding to the symbol of a male on the door of the men’s room.

  “Well you were in there”, Jennifer replied, herself pointing to the lady’s room, “And I kind of wanted the privacy”.

  Having now gotten the answers he needed, John’s shoulders relaxed, his arms un-tensed, and the newly formed beads of sweat on his brow were reabsorbed. Slowly, he re-holstered his drawn pistol.

  “I thought you were trying something”, John explained.

  “Appreciate the confidence”, Jennifer replied, “But unarmed against three people, I don’t think I’d get far”, she continued, as she turned and began making her way back over to the sofa.

  “Jennifer”, John said, drawing her attention back over in his direction.

  “Ugh I knew I’d regret saying that, call me Jen, Jenny, anything but Jennifer”, she replied.

  “Jen it is”, John said, “Can’t sleep?”.

  Jen stared back at the man, a slight frown displayed as she attempted to understand just how exactly John had made such an observation, despite the fact he had presumably thought she was sleeping until moments earlier. Jen was becoming more and more familiar with the fact that John was an astute individual, capable of understand – and manipulating – the emotions of others in ways she was more used to seeing in the sorts of people she actively tried to avoid. But John seemed different to the rest, and that alone meant she felt much more willing to cooperate.

  “What gave me away?”, she eventually asked.

  “Your eyes”, John said, “They don’t look like the eyes of someone whose been asleep for six hours”.

  “Yeah”, Jen confirmed, “I think I maybe got one or two”, she explained, placing her hands on the counter and then jumping up to sit on top of its thick wooden top, “I don’t like sleeping in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people”.

  “You and me both”, John replied, “Though luckily for me I have people I know”.

  “They seem like good guys”, Jen said, “I mean, neither of them has tried to rape, murder or steal from me and it’s been a few hours… That’s a first for me these past few months”.

  John wasn’t sure whether to smile or grimace at the thought of what Jen might have gone through, but was thankfully saved from having to make the decision fairly quickly.

  “I’m kidding”, she pointed out.

  With that, John turned to his left and began walking over to the windows at the side of the lobby. The dust remained thick at eye level, so there was little chance of seeing anything from where he was, but as the chair had been left in its position from earlier, he was able to briefly step on top of it, and slowly rise up to look out of the slightly cleaner section of glass at the top. Keen only to be up there for as short a period of time as possible, John quickly ascertained that the road outside remained empty, and that nothing stirred in the ground of their part of the hospital, and then stepped back down.

  “What are you guys doing here?”, Jen asked, “You’ve got some pretty serious gear, you’ve got radios… you don’t look like you’re just passing through”.

  “We’re not”, John replied, the thought suddenly occurring to him that he might be able to utilise the information of the girl, “We’re looking for a group that sent people to our camp, killed one of our own”.

  “Sorry to hear that”, Jen said, seemingly sincerely, “This group got a name?”.

  “Not that we know of”, John replied, “We don’t even know where they’re based, we’re just wandering around hoping to find them. Hitting up gas stations, stores, anywhere we might come across anybody”.

  “Believe me I’ve checked most of them”, Jen pointed out, “I’ve been in Chicago the past month, seen my fair share of vehicles go by but not run into any people face to face… until now”.

  “Any idea where the cars you saw were headed?”, John asked.

  “Not exactly”, Jen replied, looking up into the ceiling as if to stimulate some memories at the back of her mind, “But I saw at least one stop off outside the stadium”.

  “The United Center?”, John exclaimed, knowing it was the destination placed next on their list.

  “That’s the one”, Jen replied, “But I wouldn’t exactly recommend you walking right in there, I’ve heard a lot of gunshots coming from that way, seen a lot of cars in that area. If I had to guess where a group would be around here, it’d be there, but I’d also guess they’re a damn big group”.

  Suddenly John’s suspicions were confirmed. The most dangerous place for humans to venture had now become the home of dangerous humans themselves. If the stadium was the hive of activity Jen was making it out to be, it wouldd be no surprise if that turned out to be where the unknown group were based. Had the sun been up at this point, he was certain he’d be loading the car up and waking his fellow survivors, but as he had no such luxury, he’d need to wait a little longer.

  “How about you then?”, John asked, “Where you headed?”.

  “Not sure actually”, Jen replied, “Was thinking maybe Indianapolis”.

  “That’s a pretty long way away”, John pointed out, “And I didn’t see a car out there?”.

  “I’m not too big on cars”, Jen replied, “But luckily for me, I have all the time in the world. It’s seen me all the way here from Detroit, and god knows how many other places”.

  “Detroit? What’s it like there now?”, John asked.

  “Honestly, not a whole lot different to before”, Jen laughed, “But everywhere’s pretty similar to here, just a few less of the dead walking around in most places”.

  John couldn’t help but admire the girl. Despite being a young, skinny thing without a sophisticated weapon or really very much of anything, she’d trekked for hundreds of miles with plans of doing hundreds more, presumably encountering all manner of threats and challenges. Yet here she stood, looking pristine from head to toe, making small talk at 3AM with a stranger.

  “How’ve you survived so well?”, John said, “You don’t look like the type”.

  “Well believe it or not this Kentucky girl was raised spending her weekends in the woods”, Jen replied, before continuing with an explanation upon receiving an odd look from John, “My Dad was real big into survival, hunting and gathering, that sort of thing”.

  “Smart man”, John pointed out.

  “Not really”, Jen replied, “Drank himself to death before any of this started happening, would have been damn good in it if he hadn’t”.

  “Sorry to hear that”, John said, knowing only too well what perils could come from the dark path of alcohol abuse.

  “Anyway”, Jen started up again, “I guess I should try and get a couple more hours before I head out”.

  John nodded in confirmation. “Probably a good idea”.

  With that, John turned his attention to the remainder of his shift. With the majority of his three hours ahead, he still needed a significant number of distractions to see
him through, and was now in the process of picking the various tasks he might carry out – from cleaning his firearms and sharpening his knife to inspecting the men’s restroom and all the other spaces in the vicinity – so that he might distract himself until sun-up. Jen meanwhile descended back onto the sofa, set on getting in as much rest as she could manage, something she felt she may now be a more capable of, knowing a little more about her co-inhabitants.

  “One last thing”, John said to the girl, “Did you really have a bullet in the chamber?”.

  Jen laughed in response, before eventually adding a few simple words, “Hopefully John, you’ll never find out”.

  Chapter 17: Stacking up

  Shortly after 6AM, as the sun finally began to rise and illuminate the barren landscape for all that it was, John decided it was high time they got a head start on the day. Making his way around the area and knocking on doors, he quickly set about awakening his team of survivors, before returning to the main reception area and delving into his own backpack, ready to get started on the first and most important meal.

  Although the Chicago camp provided John and the rest of the residents with the rare luxury of a cooked breakfast – albeit usually the same combination of locally grown vegetables and eggs from a number of chickens kept in camp – when out on the road, things were a little different. Without the facilities to cook or the baggage space to carry the kind of food that could be cooked, those out in the field had to make use of military rations, something Chicago retained a huge supply of due to the number of fallen soldiers on its streets, and the numerous military trucks that had been abandoned.

  Despite more often than not being of fairly dire quality, the rations were exactly what anybody about to spend a day out in the wild needed. High energy, slow release food that filled you up and kept you going, a morning portion of beef stroganoff or a questionable little number named breakfast skillet would widen your eyes and test your taste buds, but it was significantly better than yet another outdated tin of beans.