Regeneration (Mad Swine Book 3)

by Pajak, Steven

  During the growing season, the bunks were full with seasonal workers that helped keep the farm running. During the winter, only three of the workers had remained living in the dorm. Carrie and David had come down from Canada to backpack across the U.S., but they ended up taking jobs on the Farm and fell in love with the Finnegan’s and the lifestyle, and stayed on. The other winter resident, Ernesto, was an immigrant from Mexico who was working to save money to bring his family to the United States. During the winter, they helped with the livestock and other farm chores, and in return, they were given room and board, and a monthly stipend.

  Now, only Carrie remained as a resident in the dorms; David and Ernesto had died with Old Man Finnegan the night before we’d arrived, killed by a small group of men who had come to the farm in search of food and supplies.

  To the west, between the main house and the quarters was another single story rectangular structure that served as a kitchen and cannery. Although half the size of the quarters, the kitchen was large enough to accommodate a team of chefs, and was equipped with stoves, ovens, walk-in freezer, and several refrigeration units. There were also two pantries, which stored much of the canning that Maureen and Cleona did for the family. The large prep area consisted of three large stainless steel tables that formed a U shape at the center of the room. At the opposite end of the kitchen, double swinging doors opened up onto a large dining space with two twenty foot tables flanking each other. Instead of individual chairs, long benches served to seat at least forty diners. Just outside the kitchen stood a smokehouse and root cellar.

  Further to the west lay the remains of the original barn, which the family had outgrown many years ago. The original barn, before it burned, was used primarily for the family’s personal storage and garage where the Finnegan brothers worked on their motorcycle projects. To the north, the new barn stood, a massive structure nearly ten thousand square feet. West of the new barn—built about seven years ago to meet the growing needs of the farm—were several additional structures, including a large machine shed, granary, and corn house.

  To the east was a patch of land that Maureen called the garden, where the family grew lettuce, carrots, potatoes, onions, cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, and herbs and spices for their own consumption. Flanking the garden was a large greenhouse that stretched across an open field, beyond which stood pastures and fields on which they grew various crops, sprawling as far as the eye could see before the land gave way to thick shrubbery and woods that surrounded the farm.

  Further west, beyond the sheds, stood more fields and the access road that meandered around the vast land that eventually intersected with a main rural route. Opposite the road were residential homes with small patches of pasture and fields, but nothing on the scale of the Finnegan farm.

  Winter at Finnegan Farm was as close to typical as possible to what farmers do during the winter in Illinois, or so Lara told me. She’d spent most of her time shadowing Cleona and Maureen, the matriarchs of the family. Although there was no need to reconcile books or paperwork any longer, there were logs and notes to study as they began to consider next year’s crop cycle. There were the basic farm chores as well, like cleaning and maintaining the equipment, caring for livestock, and tracking inventory. Winter was also a time for repairs, when farmers finally had time to mend fences, paint the barn, and make small repairs around the house.

  This winter, we were busy making the repairs that would save our lives. Although the vast property was fenced, the four-foot wood frames were not formidable enough to keep out the infected. The harsh temperatures and thick snowfall early in the month had kept the infected activity minimal. However, as the temperatures became mild, the crazies had become more active, like bears waking from hibernation and seeking out their first meal. One morning we awoke to a few of the infected wandering around in the garden, which enraged mama Cleona as she swore the creatures would poison her soil.

  Lara came up with the idea to dig trenches outside the fences, pits that the infected would fall into before reaching the fence. The pits needed to be deep enough that the crazies could not easily climb out. Kieran later contributed the idea to wrap barbed wire around the tops of the fences as an added defense, hopefully, snaring a crazy and trapping it before it could make it over onto our side of the field.

  So it was during that warm stretch when temperatures reached mid-thirties and lower forties when Ian demonstrated how to use the backhoe. Over a period of five days, we spent twelve-hour shifts digging the ditches around the farm—which was much larger than I expected. At first, we used the machinery, but later there was concern about fuel consumption, so we continued to dig with shovels to conserve precious fuel that would be needed come spring, when it came time to plant new crops.

  At the same time we were digging ditches, we were also raising a new barn on the ashes of the old. The new barn was more than just symbolic; it would be used as a place of gathering and learning, space that would be much needed now that Randall Oaks had joined the family. Come spring, we would be adding to our ranks when Kat, Sam and those who remained at Randall Oaks would also join us.

  More than just building, fixing, and maintaining, there was much to learn about farm life which was a lot harder than many of us expected. Although we still had the hard days of planting and harvesting ahead of us, just basic chores of everyday life on the farm took getting used to. Waking up before the sunrise, learning to work with equipment, feed, and livestock was a new experience for all of us, but the Finnegans were excellent teachers and were accustomed to working with those new to their lifestyle.

  The former residents of Randall Oaks were not the only ones tasked with learning new things that first month. As we were learning skills needed to sustain the farm, we were teaching the Finnegans the art of war, teaching them the skills they needed to help defend the farm from invaders, whether alive or undead. From the youngest on up to mama Cleona, the Finnegans were taught firearms and tactics from Brian, while Justin taught them close battle with blunt or edged weapons. Lara taught them patrol movements and formations and we ran drills for different attack scenarios.

  I coordinated schedules with mama Cleona and Maureen, combining our work and security details to ensure everyone had time to train and learn their new crafts, while still ensuring that we were keeping watch and protecting our interests in land and family. Each day I grew closer to these women and to the Finnegan family. This was true for all of us. Finnegan Farm started to feel like a home for us all, and as each day went by, we all began to feel like one large, extended family. We felt safe here and as each day passed, Randall Oaks felt more like a distant memory.

  * * *

  One night, near the end of January, I stood outside the communal kitchen, looking out at the stars that were so clear in this part of the world. The night was quiet save for the sounds of those gathering the dishes and cleaning up after our meal. It was cold, but not the biting cold that drove us indoors seeking warmth and safety.

  I took a drag from a homemade cigarette—once again thankful that Old Man Finnegan had grown his own in the garden—and from the corner of my eye spotted movement on the porch of the main house. I watched for a moment as Maureen and Stanley stood together, looking out at the stars. They held hands, and Maureen laid her head against his left shoulder; on his right slung a Remington 700 rifle. The two were an item now; it was not really a surprise considering the immediate attraction between them when they first met. However, those of us that knew Stanley thought him incapable of a relationship as he only cared about himself, and put his needs above all else. Nevertheless, Maureen was a strong woman and she was good for him; with her firm but gentle nudging, Stanley was slowly becoming less self-involved and supportive of our group efforts.

  “That’s so sweet,” Lara said, having snuck up on me.

  I offered her the cigarette, but she shook her head wrinkled her freckled nose.

  “Stanley’s a different man now,” I said.

  Lara nodded h
er head. She huddled against me, wriggling her way under my arm. “Less creepy and more…attractive…in a middle-aged, balding man sort of way.”

  I looked at her from the corner of my eye and she laughed and snuggled her head against my shoulder. In her plush white coat with faux fur around the hood, she reminded me of Princess Leia on the Hoth planet.

  “Don’t worry, I’m all yours, Romeo,” she said.

  “I was never worried.”

  Behind us, the kitchen sounds ceased and we were left with just night sounds and the wind. After a few moments, Maureen and Stanley traded the cold view of the stars for the warmth of the fire in the main house.

  “It’s Karaoke night,” Lara said. “Tonight is Billy Joel night, aren’t you excited?”

  “Sure.”

  She looked up at me now and gripped my arm, giving me a light shake. “What’s up, bub? You seem a bit distant.”

  After taking a last drag on the cigarette, I flicked it into the snow. “I’m fine. Just thinking about who is out on patrol tonight.”

  “Well it’s not you or me, so let’s enjoy our night off.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I said after a long pause.

  “Good. And I promise you, later tonight I’ll give you something really pleasant to think about.”

  “Can’t wait,” I said and slapped her on her behind. “I’ll meet you inside. I’m just going to get something from the bunk house.”

  She kissed me on the cheek and started toward the main house. After only twenty or so paces she turned around and said, “Go check on whomever is on duty, then get your butt back here. I mean it, mister.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. We’d been together for a short time, less than a month, but she seemed to know me so well already. She was a hell of a woman and I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost her. I never thought I could love another woman as much as I loved my wife. At times I felt like I betrayed Alyssa, or that I was dishonoring her memory, and that of my children.

  Lara was a smart woman; she must have known what I was going through. She never tried to pry it out of me or forced me to share my feelings with her. Instead, she would give me my space or try subtly to drag me out of my funk by offering me distractions, like the pure, unadulterated fun of Billy Joel Karaoke night.

  During the day, the work was long and hard, and I relished the activity because it kept my mind focused on the task. But at night, when all was quiet and everyone was winding down from the busy day, I started thinking about the past. Not just about my wife and kids, but about Charlie, Bob and the other friends that we lost to Providence. I thought about Kat and Sam, Ravi and Paul and the others we left behind at Randall Oaks. I thought about Bruce and Anne Marie who died during our first attack on the road.

  When I closed my eyes at night I saw Chandra, her dark skin glistening with sweat as she died in my brother’s arms. Liam Finnegan. Al Sanchez, his wife Araceli and daughter Belinda were missing and presumed dead. And Ray, torn to shreds in his wheelchair. I could not save them, any of them. Their deaths weighed hard on the group, but hardest on me because they followed me. They put their faith in me as their leader and I had failed them all.

  After a while, I joined Lara at the main house. The living room was aglow with soft light from numerous homemade candles in Mason jars placed strategically around the room and the glow of the fire that crackled in the stone fireplace. More than fifteen of my friends stood around the piano as Maureen played and Stanley softly sang, “She’s Always a Woman.”

  Lara spied me as soon as I entered and she waived me over to her. She’d found a spot closest to the fireplace for which I was grateful. I stood behind her and leaned against the mantle as I pulled off my knit cap and stuffed it into the pocket of my coat.

  “Who knew he had such a lovely voice,” Lara whispered to me as I shrugged out of my coat. “It’s kind of hot actually.”

  After hanging my coat on the back of a chair, the room applauded as Stanley concluded his performance and Justin replaced him beside the piano. His slightly pudgy face was porcelain white, even in the yellow glow of candlelight. As usual, his hair was spiky and unkempt.

  “Thank you, Stan the man for such a lovely song,” Justin said. “You really had all the ladies swooning. But now, I’m going to do something a little more up-beat and I want you all to sing along with me. Maureen, if you would please.”

  With that introduction, Maureen tickled the ivories with the opening of “Piano Man” and the room applauded vigorously. It was a song everyone was familiar with; it was often the crowd favorite on Karaoke night.

  As everyone sang along, I stood behind Lara and put my arms around her. She was petite, but not fragile; she possessed strength greater than her size, both mentally and physically. I lay my head against her as the music played and Justin sang. Normally, I would have joined in but I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. For whatever reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about Randall Oaks.

  While the music played and Justin sang, Lara obviously knew something was wrong. She pulled my hand and led me to the kitchen, still in earshot of the music, but far enough away so we would not be overheard. “Okay, what’s wrong, Matt? Spill it.”

  I shook my head a moment, not sure I could even explain what I was feeling. Then before I knew it I was spilling. “I’m just feeling very emotional right now. On nights like this, when we’re gathered around a fire, gathered with friends and family, singing and having a good time, you forget those things are even out there.”

  “That’s good to forget them for a while. It’s good to let yourself enjoy life.”

  Now I nodded my head. “Yes, agreed. But we also forget sometimes that there are good people out there that we left behind. I can’t help but wonder if they even survived the white out. Do they still have enough food to survive? What if Providence waited for us to leave and then stormed in and killed them all? What if the crazies got to them?”

  Lara grabbed my face between her hands and tilted my head so that she could look into my eyes. “Matthew, look at me. I know what you’re feeling, because I feel it, too. I think about them often. I miss Kat and Sam, too. I miss them all. And I wonder if they’re still alive and I pray for spring to come early so we can reunite with them. And we will. I know we’ll see them again. But when that time comes, whatever happened over there, it’s not your fault. And until then, you keep that burden on your shoulders.”

  Although she was right, I could not easily slip my shoulders out from beneath the straps of that weight and let it slough from my shoulders and down my back. Now I took Lara’s face between my hands and brought her to me, kissing her deeply, taking her off guard. Her eyes remained closed for a moment after.

  When she opened them again, I said, “I’m going to the bunk house. I just can’t get into this tonight. Please, just tell them I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “They won’t believe it,” Lara said, letting her hands drop to her sides. My face was warm where her hands had laid just a second ago. “You’re superman, remember? You caught the disease that kills everyone else, but you survived.”

  “Okay, then tell them I’m depressed and I am homesick.”

  “That would just offend them and they’d probably take out their frustrations on the messenger.”

  “Tell them what you need to tell them then,” I said. I opened the side door from the kitchen and paused on the threshold. “Tell Stan I thought he was really good.”

  “What about Justin?”

  I paused a moment, then said, “Tell him to keep practicing.”

  The bunkhouse was dark and quiet, as expected. Except for those on patrol, everyone else was in the house having a great night after an excellent dinner. I dropped down heavily into my bunk and listened to the squeak of springs while I kicked off my books. Staring up at the bunk above me, I thought about the pork roast, the potatoes, corn on the cob, and gravy we shared just an hour ago. A feast, when others out there were probably starving. I never ate so good at Randall
Oaks after the infected arose.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured my house, the living room sofa where I slept after my wife died, or, rather was put down by my brother after the infection took her mind. There was a roaring fire in the living room fireplace. Kat and Sam sat on the floor, across the coffee table and they were beautiful in the dim light. They were laughing, sharing a rare moment of tenderness with each other that I had not seen since the world was normal. Lara sat beside me, beautiful yet shy, awkward around the other women.

  I tried to take Lara’s hand, but she pulled away from me and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “You didn’t save them,” she said.

  Confused, my eyes followed her pointing finger. In the kitchen, Charlie sat at the table and across from him, Bob sat with his back to me.

  “Why are they here?” I asked.

  “You didn’t save us,” Kat said.

  “You’re not dead, Kat. You’re not dead, but they are.”

  “It’s only a matter of time, and then we’re all dead.”

  Before I could respond, Charlie and Bob jumped from their seats and fell upon Kat, their teeth tearing into her flesh. Charlie tore a chunk of flesh from Kat’s neck, while Bob bit into her cheek, the one with the scar that ran from temple to chin.

  “We’re all dead,” Kat said again. “And so are you.”

  With a ferocious quickness, Kat pounced at me and…

  I woke with a scream caught in my throat. For a moment, I lay unmoving; the only sound my heavy breathing. My shirt was soaked from neck to chest. My hair was a matted tangle of wet hair and my neck was sticky. I could smell the pungent aroma of my own sweat. As my eyes adjusted, I glanced at my watch and was barely able to see the time. Just after 9pm. I’d only been in the bunk for half an hour.

  Still shaken, I lied back down and put my arm over my eyes. In the distance, I heard the faint melody of the piano. Although I had no intention of going back to sleep, I lay in the dark analyzing the dream and wondering about the friends I left behind.