Snareville II: Circles

by David Youngquist

  “So you figured you’d get some more use out of her?” Dan asked.

  “We get use out of both, just used different.”

  “Nice,” Ella muttered around a mouthful of catfish. She glanced over at Dan. “Dad?”

  Dan shoved a slice of steak into his mouth. “What?”

  Ella did nothing more than look at him. Dan met her gaze. When she went back to her fish, he turned to his meal. The music stopped. Dan heard the moan of the zed. The dancer in the cage stood still as she waited for the next song. Dan glanced down the bar.

  “She have all those rings in her when she came in, Havers?”

  “Naw. Neither one did. Our guy in the tat shop practices on them. Cherry’s easier to do than Shel. An’ you ain’t apt to get bit from her either. We kinda stopped doin’ Shel. She’s gettin’ a bit rotten.”

  “Great info while I’m eating,” Dan said.

  “Hey, you asked.”

  “True. Let me ask you something.” Dan swallowed his steak, washed it down with a pull of his beer. “You sell the dancer?”

  “Sell her for fifteen minutes for five cans.”

  Ella choked on her fish, started to say something. Dan stopped her with a look.

  “No. Not what I mean. You sell her permanently? Sell her loose.”

  “I don’t know. I make a lot off her.”

  “I understand.” Dan turned back to his meal. He was almost finished. Havers turned back to the sink to wash glasses. “Wouldn’t have to feed her if she was gone,” Dan said.

  Havers didn’t say anything. He washed his glasses, set them in his rack to dry.

  “When we pay up and leave, the offer walks,” Dan said.

  “I don’t take cash money.”

  “I ain’t offering.”

  “Whatchu got?”

  Dan cut the last slice of his steak in half, popped one bite into his mouth. Cherry danced to the new tune on the stereo. He stabbed the last chunk of meat, smeared it around in the sauce on his plate.

  “Gets colder than hell up here in the winter, don’t it?” Dan asked.

  “Freeze my ass off. Heat ain’t always steady.”

  Dan looked at Havers then called Ella over. He whispered into the girl’s ear. She scampered outside.

  “She one of your fighters?”

  “That and my daughter. My wives and I saved her from being prostituted up in Chicago. We took her in. Her folks are dead. Figure she’s my kid after three years.”

  Havers swallowed. He had lost a little color in his face. “Oh. Someone used to sell her? How old is she?”

  “Fifteen now. Twelve when we found her. Guy used her for five or six months before that. Had her chained in a back room.” Dan took the last pull from his beer as Ella stepped in the door.

  “Oh,” Havers said again. Ella handed Dan the package she carried under her arm.

  He laid it out on the counter in front of him. To the other side was a pile of a dozen canned goods to pay for lunch. “You look like a forty four regular. Try that on.” Dan pushed the folded, insulated coveralls to Havers.

  Havers picked up the bundle. Legs dropped, arms unfolded. He ran the zipper down the front. He kicked off his boots. “These fit, she’s yours.”

  People gathered around. Havers slid first one leg, then the other into the coveralls. Arms next. The crowd grew quiet. Raiders gathered around Dan, hands slid to the butts of their guns. Havers ran the zipper closed. He grinned as tears filled his eyes. He reached under the counter, pulled up a set of keys.

  “Take her,” he said as he pulled his boots back on.

  Dan passed the keys to Jinks. She and Ella quickly went to the cage, unlocked it and hustled the girl out the door. They tossed Dan back the keys as they left. The bar was silent. From the cage, he heard Shel moan. He handed the keys back to Havers as he stood. He glanced at Cody, nodded to Bill. They watched the crowd.

  “Hey.” Petey made his way forward. “You lettin’ ’em take Cherry, Havers?”

  “They just bought her.”

  “Fuck you. She’s my girlfriend.”

  “For five cans, she’s anyone’s girlfriend.” Havers said. The bar laughed; not a happy sound.

  Petey turned to Dan. His pencil thin arms were covered in tattoos. His clothes hung loose on his body. He had all his teeth, but they didn’t follow a straight line in his mouth. His upper lip had been split at one time and healed crooked. “I hear you’re Cap’n Death. You think you can walk in here and take what you want?”

  Dan looked the man in the eye. He could feel Bill to his right side. Knew Cody was behind him. “I didn’t take her. She’s bought and paid for. You heard Havers.”

  “C’mon Petey. Wear a rubber an’ we’ll put a gag in Shel. You can have her.” Someone laughed from the crowd.

  “Fuck you. Fuck you all.”

  “We’re leaving. Take up your complaint with Havers.”

  “What if we say you ain’t goin’?” Petey picked up the .22 pistol from the bar. “You at least owe me nine shots on Shel. How ’bout I try my first one on you?”

  The crowd stepped away. “What the hell is this? Tombstone?” Dan asked.

  “I hear you’re real good with those…”

  Dan didn’t give him a chance to finish. He drew with both hands. With his right, the sight came up. He squeezed a round. The big .45 boomed. A bullet sheared off the top of Petey’s ear and blasted past. His left hand centered the muzzle of his other .45 on Havers’ chest behind the counter.

  “Don’t,” he warned the barman as he reached for a shotgun under the counter. Dan heard his troopers bring up rifles and click the guns off safe as the crowd pulled their stash guns.

  Moans stopped from the cage. Shel fell forward with a wet slopping sound, like a gut bucket overturned from a hog butchering. The bullet had punched a hole in her forehead and blew black brains out the back of her skull. Petey grabbed what was left of his ear. Blood ran between his fingers as he cursed. Dan took a step sideways toward the door. His men moved with him, muzzles of their rifles covered the crowd. The door opened. Ella and Jinks marched the guards back inside.

  “I don’t miss twice,” Dan said. “Put the gun back on the bar, or Havers will pick it up out of your dead hand.”

  Petey complied as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. In a small square, Dan backed to the door with his troops. The girls had the horses waiting. Ella swung into the saddle behind Cherry, who was wrapped in a blanket. As they trotted into town Jinks covered the rear with her M-203.

  “Thank you,” Cherry said in a quiet voice. “Thank you.” She leaned back into Ella’s arms. Both had tears in their eyes.

  “Any time,” Dan said. He couldn’t look at them. He’d start to cry if he did.

  Chapter 2

  I’m getting better. I could have killed the asshole. Hell, last year I would have killed every last one of them and taken what I wanted from the coolers. I’m getting better. Jennifer would be proud of me. God I missed her. Now, I got no qualms about killing zeds. Self-preservation you know. Uninfected humans, now that’s another story. I’m trying to keep from killing them, even assholes like Petey, if I can. Sometimes I succeed. Today, it wasn’t worth the trouble. Plus, if we want to keep trading with these people, I don’t want to kill a whole slug of them. So Petey lives and I get another mouth to feed.

  We clopped on down the pavement. There was one main road through town that all the side streets branched off of. Savanna is carved into the limestone bluffs along the Mississippi. The houses are built on flat spots cut into the rock. Old river town. Lot of trade used to come through here. Downtown is a block and less from the river itself. We came to the first checkpoint as we made a curve to get into the old shopping area. Guards, one with an SKS, the other with an AK-47, waved us to a stop.

  “Creds,” the one with the SKS said. I handed him an I.D. issued by my brother Tom down on the Rock Island Arsenal. “Says here you’re Captain D. Death. Heard of you. Figured you’d be older.”
r />   “An’ bigger,” the second added.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I said. They didn’t wave us through. “Problem, boys?”

  “Why’s Cherry with you?” AK said.

  “He bought me, Junk,” Cherry spoke up. Only her face was visible above the blanket. So far, she didn’t strike me as crazy.

  “What’s the goin’ rate for a stripper these days?” SKS asked.

  “Traded Havers a set of coveralls for her,” I said.

  “That figures,” Junk grinned. “Bad as his arthritis is, he needs something to keep him warm. You got any more of them coveralls?” They eyed the pack saddles.

  “Sorry, boys. Stud fees for the mares. We’re headed for Wally’s. Talk to him after we leave.”

  Both chuckled as they opened the gate. “We’ve seen a lot of folks headed his way this spring. Hope them studs of his ain’t too wore out,” Junk said.

  They passed us through the gates, gave us directions and wished us luck. We kept on through town. People that lived here used the natural defenses to keep the zeds out. Rock walls at least seven feet high were topped with barbwire crawling up the hill. I assumed it went along a street a few blocks up the hill. The wall ended at the edge of the water. I’d heard of zombies walking along the bottom of lakes to get to the other side, or to an island where people were staying, but not on the Mississippi. Old Muddy had too strong of a current and too much silt on the bottom. Some places you can barely swim in it, let alone a corpse walk the bottom. Worst they had to worry about here was river pirates. But something told me those jokers were good for business, as long as they didn’t get out of hand, or raid here.

  We got halfway through the business district and turned to the river. At the edge of the water, a barge horn was mounted to a pole near a dock. I dismounted, handed the reins to Jinks and called Wally. Two long blasts and a short one echoed across the water. I waited a count of sixty and repeated it. I hoped he’d heard. Ella dismounted. She, Jinks and Cherry took a pack and our tool set around the corner of a building. We held the horses as we watched the island.

  At a landing on the island someone appeared beside the ferry tied up to a makeshift dock. Male or female, I couldn’t tell from this distance. The person waved, climbed aboard the boat. A few minutes later, the machine belched out a cloud of blue smoke. Another person appeared and scampered around the dock, throwing lines aboard as the motors warmed up.

  Before the boat could cross the river, the girls came back around from behind the building. Cherry was dressed in a sweat suit with a jacket over the top. She stood between the girls, eye darting from the ground, to me. Ella held out her fist. I opened my palm and she dumped a pile of gold and silver rings into my hand.

  “She wanted a couple left in,” Ella said. “The rest are yours. Return on your investment, she said.”

  Cherry glanced at me. For a fraction of a second, she tried a half-smile, then looked at the ground again. I shrugged and dumped the rings into a top pocket of my coat. I had other things to worry about. Bill and Cody brought the horses back up from the river. They had taken the animals for a drink, but I wanted them away from the water when the ferry put in. Five minutes later, Wally drew the thing up beside the dock.

  A short, round man with a thick brown beard descended from the wheelhouse, hopped off the boat and came over to our little group.

  “You must be Dan,” he said as he thrust out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Dave Wallace. Wally to most folks, you included.” He glanced at the group. “Rescue Cherry, did you?”

  I grinned. He had a grip like a steel trap and a sense of humor. I liked him already. “Wouldn’t say rescue, so much as bartered for.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s away from that place. Good seein’ you Cher. ’Bout didn’t recognize you with clothes.”

  Again, a flash of a smile. “Good to see you too, Wally. Been too long since you came out.”

  “You two know one another?” Jinks asked.

  “I go over there for a meal now and then when I get tired of my own cooking. Doesn’t hurt they had a pretty girl to decorate the place.”

  “I wouldn’t call her a decoration,” Jinks said.

  “I wouldn’t either. Just meant she was easy to talk with. Easier to look at,” Wally replied. He ushered us toward the ferry. “You think your horses’ll get on board? We’ve had to swim a few across. That sucks. We had a guy lose one of his string that way.”

  “Let’s hope they will,” I said. The engines idled slow. I could feel the thrum they gave off here on the landing. The horses snorted and blew as we got close to the ferry. It was a small one. Probably could get three or four vehicles on it length wise. I handed the lead rope of my gelding to Ella. A ramp jutted down to the landing from the deck. Metal, lined with plywood bolted into place. I stepped up on it. Sounded solid.

  “I covered as much metal up as I could this year,” Wally said. “Found out if it sounded more like a horse trailer, they were more apt to get on board without freakin’ out. Works on stock horses. Don’t know about them high strung warm-bloods you got.”

  “Your Arabs made it across,” I said. “Ours ought to go.”

  Wally chuckled. “I crossed them over before I got the ferry. Most horses can swim. I guess I thinned the gene pool of those that couldn’t. At least from mine.”

  “Oh. Well, let’s get on with this.”

  I took the lead of my buckskin. I figured if I could get Cherokee aboard, the others would follow. He put a foot on the ramp. It echoed across the water under his hoof. He snorted and blew, took a good sniff of it. It was stained and beat up and smelled like other horses and he put another foot on it. I tugged the lead and with a rush, he was aboard. He stood spraddle legged in the center of the deck, blowing and trying to figure out why the floor moved.

  The others followed suit. Soon we had a knot of horses standing on deck, looking around and snorting. Last one aboard was the Shetland. Bill and Dave locked wrists and simply lifted her onto the ferry. She tried to get back off, but Cody grabbed her halter and held while Wally’s deckhand raised the ramp. Wally climbed back into the wheelhouse as the hand cast off the lines and we were under way.

  A short trip to the island and we offloaded the horses, who seemed to be glad to be back onto solid ground. At least as solid as an island in the Mississippi could be. It was one of the bigger pieces of land in the northern section of river. Fully grown cottonwoods reached into the sky. A mix of hardwoods made a solid screen to the interior. The ground was a soft mix of sand and clay as we walked away from the water. I smelled wood smoke. A few more feet and I knew why. The trees opened into a clearing where Wally had set up his own little village.

  “Nice,” Cody said. “Really nice.”

  I agreed. A half-dozen small houses surrounded a much larger one. The homes were a mix of logs harvested from the island, by the looks of the stumps, to lumber scavenged from houses in town. Glass windows, neatly trimmed in white, stood out from the faces of the homes. Between the windows were what looked like trapdoors built into the wall. Smoke rose from chimneys of the houses. To the north of the houses was a barn. Small paddocks lined the walls of the barn, with access from the stalls so the horses could be turned out. An arena was built to the west of the barn. A smaller barn stood to the east of the main.

  “The boys have their own place,” Wally explained. “We’ve got so many mares in here in the spring, if they’re in the same barn, it gets pretty noisy.”

  About that time, one of the studs caught wind of our mares. He bellowed his welcome out into the quiet afternoon. Ella’s mare answered.

  “And so it begins,” Wally grinned.

  Cherokee looked around at the place, decided it wasn’t that interesting and dropped his head to snag some grass. We were directed where to take the geldings and where the mares were to be stalled. An hour later we were squared away. The horses rolled in the sand, glad after three days of riding to be rid of the saddles. Wally’s own herd
wandered in to see who had come for a visit. Since they were on an island, he didn’t bother to run fences. The only pens were those near the barn. He used other islands for graze as well when the grass needed a rest.

  We were introduced around to the folks on the island. They were a nice bunch. Mix of farmers and small town folks who found it safer to live out here on the islands than to stay in town.

  “Savanna’s pretty tight, but out here you don’t have to worry about a swarm of three thousand zeds come wandering down the road,” Wally said.

  “We do our trading. We deal with pirates now and then who think we’re easy pickin’s out here. We help defend town when called on.” Said a girl Wally introduced her as Ducky, his wife. A little girl toddled around the sandy yard. She had her daddy’s brown eyes. “We’ve taken people out of town when they were overrun too. That ferry’ll haul a lot of people at once. When we can regroup, we run the zeds out.”

  “How many people live up here?” Jinks asked.

  “Couple hundred in town. Twenty here on this island,” Wally said. He passed around bottles of beer I recognized from the bar. We had unloaded the pack saddles. They had given us a list of things that were hard to get hold of up here. We had almost all of it in Princeton and Snareville. It was a good trade. This run would cover the price of all our mares, so we wouldn’t have to bring packs next time we came up.

  We spent the next week helping out around the island. The landing for trade was on the north end and we helped out there with boats and such. There was a small bar, much cleaner than the roadhouse, attached to the trading post. A lot of people came over and shopped there. Cherry was given some proper clothes and pitched in at the store. While she was quiet, I never thought she was crazy. Who knows, maybe Havers said that just so I wouldn’t think he was too much of an ass.

  The mares came into heat and we had them bred. The three warm bloods were put with one stud, the Arab and Shetland with the other. This way, if we were lucky enough to get a stud colt of our own, we could breed the mares back and not inbreed our own herd. It was a noisy affair and as far as I knew, none of these mares had been mothers before. Next month would tell how successful we were. I hoped none of them came back into heat.