by Brant, Jason
“You know what?”
“That you hate not being able to take care of me.” She gave him a small smile. “But here’s a little secret—I like taking care of you.”
Lance returned her grin. “That’s so emasculating.”
“I’m a man-eater, what can I say?”
They put their dishes in the sink as the man working kitchen duty for the day came in. He was maybe forty, though his smooth face and slightly balding head made it hard to judge his age with any accuracy. Lance had seen him around the compound for the past week or so, but hadn’t met him yet.
“Rough night, wasn’t it?” the man asked. He worked his hands as he looked at the piling dishes on the counter and in the sink. “They’re saying that the compound isn’t safe anymore. Between the animals attacking us at night and—”
Cass stopped at the door and peered over her shoulder at him. “We have food, water, and guns. If people feel safer somewhere else, they’re welcome to go there.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Just keep your head up,” Lance said. “We’re doing what we can.”
They wound their way to the back of the cabin and left through the rear door. The bunker that served as a weapons cache was open. Two men stood inside, pulling boxes of ammo out of crates.
“What are you doing?” Lance climbed down the small ladder and moved inside.
“Getting ready for when those government pricks get here.” The closest man, the oldest and largest of the two, had an angry, pinched face. He puffed his chest slightly as Cass came down the ladder behind Lance. “If they come in here trying to take over, we’re going to put them down.”
The man behind him had a similar build and bone structure, though he was slightly smaller and had less gray peppered through his hair and beard. He might have been the older man’s son, but Lance couldn’t be sure. He kept digging through the crates.
“We’re planning the same thing,” Cass said. She put her hands on her hips, a stance that meant she was about to lay down the law. “But you need to keep your cool. They might not be hostile at all.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t take kindly to being ordered around.”
Cass shrugged. “Take it how you want. We have too many pregnant women around here for you to start shooting without knowing what the hell is going on first.”
They stared at each other for several seconds, gazes locked like two dogs feeling each other out.
Lance half-expected to see Cass’ mohawk stand on end like a canine’s hackles.
He tried not to laugh at the scene playing out before him. Whether that laughter would have been due to his utter exhaustion or the hilarity of Cass’ attitude, he couldn’t be certain.
The man Cass glared at was nearly double her size. He stood well over six feet tall and had to weigh close to two hundred and fifty pounds. Cass either didn’t notice the size difference, or didn’t care.
Lance guessed that she didn’t give two shits how big anyone was.
“We aren’t some kind of psychos,” the man said, finally. “We just like to be prepared.”
“Same,” Cass said. She proffered her hand. “Call me Cass. This is Lance.”
The man hesitated a moment before grabbing it with his catcher’s mitt of a hand. “Jim. This is my boy, Junior.”
Junior gave them a quick nod without taking his eyes from the crates. “A pleasure.”
Lance shook Jim’s hand. He tried not to wince at the pressure in the shake. If the big man wanted to break every bone in Lance’s hand, he could have done so with ease.
“Jesus. What did you do for a living, rip phone books in half for the circus?” Lance kneaded his palm.
Jim grinned. “I was a truck driver. Just always been ox strong.” He looked back at Junior. “You find them yet?”
“No. I don’t think they’re in here.”
“What are you looking for?” Cass asked.
“Ammo for a .50 caliber rifle.” Jim pointed at a large gun on the wall. “Rumor has it that those military boys have a helicopter.”
“That’s what we’ve heard,” Lance said.
“A well-placed shot with that thing will put a hurting on it.”
“Good idea.”
“Got ‘em,” Junior said. He pulled a box of ammunition from one of the crates and held it up. “It’s full.”
Jim grabbed the gun from the wall. “I’ll get to cleaning this.” He looked to Lance. “Sorry if I came across too hard. We haven’t been in this place too long, and we’re having a little trouble adapting to people who aren’t trying to kill us or steal our stuff. It’s rough out there.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have to deal with Cassie here all the time, so I’m immune to people being assholes.”
Cass slowly turned her head and glared at him. “Dick.”
“Bitch.”
Jim let out a deep, belly-shaking guffaw. “We’ve seen you two around. You’re all right.”
“I’m all right—he’s a dumbass.” Cass walked around them to the far corner and picked up an RPG from the corner. “You big boys have any experience with one of these?”
“Course not,” Junior said. “They weren’t exactly legal for target practice.”
“You think they’ll take the tread off a tank?”
Jim scratched his bearded cheek. “Maybe. Hell, I haven’t even shot a .50 cal before. You’re asking the wrong guy. Couldn’t hurt to try. If nothing else, I imagine it would give the people inside one of hell of a headache.”
Junior pulled more bullets from a crate and stuffed them in his pockets. He wasn’t as amiable as his father and he didn’t make eye contact.
Lance looked at him a little closer. He had to start thinking about who they could count on when the chips were down. Could these two be trusted if all Hell broke loose? Could anyone else in the compound vouch for the character of these men?
Cass didn’t share his trepidation. “When those men are getting close, come find us. We’re working on a plan of some kind just in case they’re less than pleasant.”
“You got it. We’re going to find a good hiding spot that’ll give us a clear view of the sky.” Jim swung the sling attached to the rifle over his shoulder. “Ready, Junior?”
“I guess.”
The two giants climbed the ladder and disappeared. The room felt wider with their bulky bodies out of the way.
Cass grabbed an AK-47 from the wall and tossed it to Lance. “We need to get as many guns in people’s hands as we can.”
“It’s a good plan, but I don’t know if it’ll work. A lot of the people here aren’t self-sufficient. If the shit hits the fan, I’m not sure that they’ll be willing to fight for what’s theirs. Most people aren’t.” Lance rolled the rifle over in his hands, appreciating its heft.
The weight of a gun usually gave him a feeling of power, of control.
Now he felt helpless, as if he was on a runaway train barreling into a hairpin turn.
Chapter 9
Most of those seeking refuge in the compound were already armed.
If they’d arrived without a gun, which was a rarity in this new, violent existence, then they’d already taken something from the weapons bunker. Some of the newer arrivals still hadn’t acclimated to the open nature of Brown’s operation and hadn’t helped themselves to the fruits of Ralph’s horde.
Cass stuffed their hands with guns and ammo, assuring them that there were no strings attached to the kindness.
A few objected based on some odd, moral principles or out of an outright hatred of guns and the violence surrounding them. Lance made note of these people, knowing that they were the ones who had allowed the atrocities committed by Ralph and his men to occur.
They lavished in his protections and ignored his evils.
These were the people who couldn’t be counted upon when the military presence arrived. They would fold, as they had before, and listen to whoever was in power.
Lance wonde
red how they’d survived for so long in such a hostile environment. Had Ralph found them during the collapse? Were they protected from the abominations devouring the planet, from those whose hunger drove them mad? Did their apathy come from not having to fight their way through the mindless hordes?
These were the questions raging through his mind as he carried armfuls of guns, grenades, and claymores through the compound. He wondered if these thoughts weighed so heavily upon him because of his fatigue or due to the reality of their ever-worsening situation.
By mid-afternoon, Lance had collapsed into the bed that used to belong to a tyrant. He slept through supper, not even rolling over as the cook shouted ‘dinnertime!’ outside his window.
When he awoke, the glow of the golden hour had settled upon the compound.
The other side of the bed was empty, though the blankets were wrinkled, the pillow dented.
Lance licked his dried lips as he worked his way to the kitchen and drank straight from the tap. The fog from his deep rest hadn’t evaporated yet, but he felt measurably better. His limbs still had the tight, sluggish feel of a heavy sleep as he lumbered out the back door and walked around the cabin.
Most of the compound’s inhabitants stood in a large semi-circle near the expansive solar array in the clearing. They looked up at Doc Brown as he stood on a chair, looking out over his captive audience.
He shouted instructions and encouragements, telling them that they would live through this as they had so much else. That no one could do more to them than what had already been done. That life, that the ruthlessness of nature, had hardened them, turned them into something that couldn’t be lorded over.
Lance thought the speech was a bit overdone, reminding him of the cheeseball pep talk given by Bill Pullman in Independence Day. But the members of the crowd nodded their heads and mumbled their agreement.
Eifort stood beside him, her rifle slung over her shoulder. The sadness that had settled in her eyes that morning was still there. Her grief encompassed her like a black aura.
Cass leaned against the bank of solar panels, hands stuffed in her pockets. She grinned at Lance as he approached.
“You were so out that I had to check your pulse when I crawled into bed beside you.” She reached up and ruffled his hair. “Feel better?”
“Much. How long was I out?”
“Six or seven hours. I thought about waking you for dinner, but you looked like a zombie when we were handing the guns out.”
Lance rubbed his stubble-covered chin, thinking about how badly he needed to shit, shower, and shave. The three Ss always made him feel better. “What’s with Brown hamming it up? Is he finally going for that Oscar he’s always wanted?”
“I think so. Tom Hanks will beat them though—he always wins.”
“That makes me sad.”
“What?”
“That I’ll never get to see another one of Tom Hank’s killer roles. You remember when he would lose a thousand pounds in a week so he could look like hell on an island or for a trial? Those were the good old days.”
Cass prodded at her insane hairdo, which had been fixed since the afternoon. “You mean the good old days when you were unemployed and married to a bitch who was cheating on you? Yeah, those were the best of times.”
“I’m so glad I have you around to shit on me when I’m feeling a little melancholy. Thanks, Cassie.”
“Call me Cassie again and see what happens.”
Lance concentrated on fighting off the smile that threatened to crack his face. He looked directly into her eyes. “Cassie.”
“Do you want me to kick your ass in front of everyone?”
“Sassy Cassie.”
“You’re dead.” She pushed off a solar panel and reached for his shoulders.
He dodged her grasp and backpedaled, moving with the newfound grace he’d discovered as he continued to improve his conditioning. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
“I’m faster than you.” She kept coming, smiling despite her obvious attempts not to. “Remember when you almost drowned after swimming fifty yards? You aren’t exactly an iron man.”
“That might be true, but you run like a girl.” He turned and sprinted for the cabin, moving as fast as he could while laughter sapped his strength.
Cass, caught off guard by his boyish taunts, gave chase, though he could hear her laughing too. She’d almost caught him when he reached the back door.
Someone called out to them from the crowd, but Lance ignored it. He had something else in mind, something which he was worried might not happen again. He feared what waited for them in the shadows.
“You look like a huge pussy to everyone outside right now!” Cass came in the door as Lance worked his way down the hall.
Lance cut into the kitchen and turned toward their bedroom. “Yeah, but you—”
His foot slid on the ceramic tile and he went sprawling to the floor, crashing into the dark cabinets. A twinge went through his shoulder from the impact. He didn’t move, resting on his side, chuckling at his clumsiness.
Cass burst into the kitchen and slid to a stop by the table. She held her stomach as she burst into laughter. “Serves you right.”
Lance grabbed the counter and hoisted himself to his feet. In two steps, he was on her, lifting her into the air like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.
He carried her toward the bathroom, still laughing.
“You better be careful, carrying me around like this. People will start to think you’re the man in this relationship.”
“Har har.”
“And where are you taking me? Is there something specific you have in mind?” Her gaze narrowed as she cupped his cheek.
“I thought we would have a bible study.” He stepped into the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind them.
He didn’t bother taking their clothes off as he climbed into the shower, still holding her in his arms.
She reached down and turned the water on with one hand as her other explored his chest.
Lance focused on the moment, letting his fears and concerns slide away.
Chapter 10
“That was unexpected.” Cass pulled a fresh tank top over her head. She’d taken a red marker to it, drawing odd designs across the white cloth. When Lance had asked what she was doing, she’d shrugged and said it needed Cassified.
“Yeah, well, you looked like you needed a good sexing.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“I do what I can.”
He attached the clip of his gun holster to a clean pair of jeans. Yanking them on, he found his belt. The pressure of the looming night had already consumed their sexual afterglow.
Cass sat in front of a mirror, styling her hair. She paused when she saw him grinning at her. “What is it?”
“Why do you continue worrying about making a fashion statement?”
“Because I like it. I couldn’t give a damn about making a fashion statement.”
“Aren’t you the one who said that kind of shit didn’t matter anymore... while you were taking a knife to your hair?”
“I wouldn’t have a mohawk if I was worried about guys wanting to fuck me. I already have you on lockdown, so I’m trying different stuff. Sue me. Why are you acting like this is some kind of big concern, all of a sudden? Are you worried about tonight?”
Lance ejected the magazine from his pistol and checked the ammo. Full. “Aren’t you? The Vladdies have come at us with a different plan of attack two nights in a row. They’re getting smart and changing tactics. We’re sitting here and hoping the lights will continue to keep them away.”
“Yeah, I’m scared too.”
“Really? You look like you just took a valium. I’m so nervous that I’m going to have to check my underwear as soon as you leave the room.”
“I’m not about to shit myself like you are, but yeah, I’m worried. Our smarts, and daylight, give us an edge. What if we don’t have that advantage next month? He
ll, next week?”
“And that’s why I’m scared.”
“But that doesn’t do us any good. Moping around isn’t helping the situation. We need to go out there and face them head on. If they step into the field, we blow the motherfuckers away.”
Lance ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it since everything had fallen apart. “You’re so eloquent. You should have been an author.”
“Says the guy who just said he needed to check his underwear.” She walked over to him and looked up into his face. “I’ll protect you, Lance York.” She gave him a soft kiss before going over to the corner and grabbing the holster for her axe from the floor.
It hadn’t seen much use since they’d settled into the compound. She’d stuck with carrying a gun around for the most part. The axe, more than any firearm, scared the locals.
They treated it like a snake that could bite at any moment.
The crowd in the field had dissipated, spreading to the far edges, standing by the trees. The doubled guard duty from the night before had quadrupled. Most of those living in the compound now stood, or sat, at the edge of the clearing, watching the forest with wide, fear-stricken eyes.
“Looks like Brown is putting everyone to work.” Lance pulled his boots on. They were a hardy pair of Wolverines that he’d scavenged from the Westmoreland mall. “Did I miss anything about the military guys? Shouldn’t they have been here by now?”
The heat of the summer made his feet sweat profusely when he wore the boots, but he figured that to be better than twisting an ankle while running away from a vampire. Besides, he only put them on when he thought bad things were about to go down.
Cass looped the holster over her shoulders and secured it. “Dunno. I thought they would have come today. Maybe they’re playing it safe and scoping us out.”
“You think they sent a scout to see what our operation is?” Lance hadn’t thought of that before. He shivered at the idea of someone sitting in the woods during the day, watching them as the Vladdies did at night.
Just when he’d thought that the day was safe, someone new came along and screwed it up.
“That’s what I would do,” Cass said.