The King of Clayfield - 01

by Shane Gregory

  I got an idea that we could spend the rest of the winter somewhere else, then when spring arrived, we could move back to Blaine's house.

  On my way back out to the shop I looked across the road to the cow field. In the distance was a dead cow. A pack of ten dogs were eating on it. They weren't coyotes or coydogs that you see sometimes. These were family pets. They were mostly mutts of different sizes, shapes and colors, but I saw a couple of purebreds in there, too. Some of them were lying down or playing with each other. They were wagging their tails. They didn't look mean or vicious. I wondered if they'd brought the cow down or if they'd found it like that. If we were going to have livestock like a milk cow or goat, then we would need to collect them soon. Animals like that would be easy prey for predators with nothing to protect them.

  Jen and Sarah were sitting on the mattresses and talking when I got back. They'd made coffee.

  "We're making our shopping list," Jen said, holding up the notebook.

  I took one of the old lawn chairs down and sat.

  "What do you have so far?" I said.

  "Other than food and clothes, we're having a little trouble figuring out what we'll need."

  I went over to the stack of papers I'd printed off from those websites.

  "I have a list in here somewhere. It might not fit us exactly, but it should give us an idea. Actually, there are several lists in here."

  I gave each of us a stack of papers.

  "Look through what I have, and we can make our own list from these."

  I poured myself some coffee and took my own stack of papers back to my chair.

  "But you're right about the house," I said. "We should be as comfortable as possible. Put a house at the top of your list."

  CHAPTER 27

  It rained steady for the next four days. We ran out of firewood on the morning of the third day. It was a big relief, because we were all pretty bored by that time. We'd been doing nothing but sitting around reading and talking. We were all starting to get edgy, and we were ready for a diversion. I had a real hankering for some TV or internet surfing--anything. I wondered how people managed to stay sane before the age of electronics. I guess, like quitting smoking, it was just a withdrawal stage.

  The shed at the little yellow brick house had plenty of firewood, so the three of us loaded up in the pickup to drive over there and get it. The weather was miserable--soggy, cold, and gray. On the way, I was looking at the houses on the road in a new way; I was shopping. I didn't see anything I liked, but there were thousands more from which to choose.

  "You know what?" I said, "Let's go ahead and look for a new place now. It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop; we could spend the time driving around instead of sitting in that little building staring at each other."

  "I thought you said we were getting low on gas," Jen said.

  "I thought you said we could steal whatever car we wanted," I said.

  "It ain't stealing," she said.

  "I know," I said. "I'm just joking with you."

  "Okay. Let's find a roomy vehicle, and then we'll park the truck and use it to get the firewood later."

  I slowed down in front of houses so we could look at them and their vehicles. We drove a couple of miles. We only saw one person and they were out in a field.

  "Oooh," Sara said, "I like that car."

  It was an old, red car--late '60s to early '70s model--parked under the carport of a big white farmhouse. There were other newer vehicles parked up there, too, but...sure, why not. We pulled up in the driveway, and we all got out. Sara ran up under the carport and looked in the car's passenger side window.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" she said. "My dad used to take me to car shows. This is a 1967 Cutlass Supreme. It's in perfect condition, too."

  "Yeah," I said, as we joined her. "It's really nice."

  "It'll drink the gas, won't it?" Jen said.

  Sara shrugged, "Gas is free now, so who cares. Anyway, I imagine that truck you've been driving drinks it, too."

  "Gas is free, hon, but getting at it is the problem, and they ain't making it anymore."

  "Come on," Sara said. "Just for today."

  "Sure," I said. "Let's go back to the truck and get the shotgun, then we'll go inside and find the keys."

  Jen stepped around the driver’s side of the car to go into the house.

  "Wow, look at this," she said.

  I went around the car. Lined up between the car and the house were three 5-gallon gasoline cans and four 5-gallon kerosene cans. I went down the line lifting them. All of the gas cans, and all but one of the kerosene cans were completely full.

  Next to them was something covered with a tarp. I pulled the tarp away and found a wooden pallet stacked with bottled water and toilet paper.

  Jen and I looked at each other, trying to make sense of it, and then we both came to the same conclusion.

  Sara was opening the storm door to the house.

  "Sara," Jen whispered. "Get back to the truck."

  "What? Why?"

  Before Sara could move, the door to the house opened and a gun barrel came out, directed at her face.

  "Get off my property," a man said.

  Jen and I backed away to the side, out of the man's field of vision. Jen reached in her coat and pulled out the .22 revolver.

  "We're sorry," Sara said. "We didn't know anybody lived here."

  The man stepped out of the house, backing Sara up to the classic car.

  "Well, somebody does."

  He looked like he was in his mid to late 30s. He had dark hair, a new beard, and a little paunch. He looked like he'd gotten dressed quickly. His jeans were fastened under his belly but not zipped, his blue flannel shirt was open, his hat was on crooked, and he was wearing green rubber boots. He looked at Jen and me, noticed Jen's weapon and aimed his gun at us. We backed up even farther and were now standing in the rain.

  "No," I said. "It's okay. We don't want to bother anybody. We thought the place was abandoned. We're almost out of gas, so--"

  "So you thought you'd steal mine."

  "No," I said. "We didn't know you were here."

  "It's a good thing I was, or you would have robbed me blind."

  "We're going to leave now," I said. "We didn't mean any harm."

  Sara side-stepped along the car until she joined us, then we all backed away toward the pickup. He kept his gun on us and walked up to the edge of the carport.

  "Are there more of you?"

  I stopped, "There are more survivors, if that is what you mean."

  "How many?"

  "Four more that we know of, but they're not with us."

  He lowered his gun, "Is that all?"

  I nodded.

  "Do you have any news? Has the government stopped it? Are they coming to help us?"

  "No," I said. "Nobody's coming. The virus is probably worldwide by now."

  "Probably?"

  "It crossed the Mississippi River a few days ago," I said, "It moved into Asia, too."

  The end of the barrel of his gun dropped down and pointed at the ground. His brow furrowed as he thought about what I'd just told him.

  The three of us had stopped moving toward the truck; we were just standing there in the rain.

  "Aw, hell," he said.

  "We really ain't here to hurt nobody," Jen said.

  He didn't answer; he just looked up at us, distracted and sad.

  We continued to stand there for a few more seconds, but we needed to get out of the rain.

  "We're going now," I said.

  We all climbed into the truck. The cold rain had soaked in, and we were all shivering. I started the truck and turned on the heat and windshield wipers. I started backing down the driveway, when the man ran out after us and slapped the hood.

  "Wait!" he said.

  I stopped and he came around to Jen's window.

  "I ain’t got nobody left," he said. He looked so pitiful with rain dripping off his crooked hat.

  "We don
't either," Jen said.

  He nodded.

  "Y'all can have some gas," he said. "Why don't you come in for a while. I ain't seen nobody in almost a week."

  CHAPTER 28

  His name was Charlie, and he was a manager at the chicken processing plant. There were stacks of canned goods and another kerosene jug sitting in his dining room. There was a kerosene heater in the middle of the living room. He'd been sleeping in there, too. He had blankets hung up over the doorways to help keep the heat in that room. There were blankets on the couch and the ashtray on the coffee table was overflowing with ash and butts.

  We all took off our wet coats, and he brought in a pot of coffee for us. Then he sat in one of the chairs and started talking.

  "I work the night shift," he said, removing his hat. He was starting to go bald on top. "I woke up last Thursday around four in the afternoon, and Wendy wasn't here. We knew things were supposed to get bad, so I figured she'd gone into town to get more food and water.

  "I couldn't get her on her cell. Then it started getting late. I turned on the news, and I knew it had already started. I tried to call in to work, but nobody answered the phones.

  "My daughter Katie is a freshman at Purdue, and we'd told her to stay put, because we thought she be safer there than here. I tried to call her, but nothing. I saw what they were doing to the bridges and the ferries, and I knew there would be no way I could get to her.

  "Around eight that night, I went out looking for Wendy. I found her car parked at Wal-Mart, but I didn't find her right away. God, it was crazy. There were people running around the parking lot. They were fighting and shooting each other. I went in the store, and it was even worse. I tried looking for her in there, but I couldn't find her. While I was in there, I decided to get a few things. We'd already collected a lot of food, but I figured we'd need kerosene. The power would go out eventually, and I remembered how we ran out of fuel during the ice storm.

  "I got a cart and went back to automotive and piled it full of gas jugs, then I got kerosene jugs. I tried to keep my head down so no one would notice me. I went around to sporting goods. All of the guns were gone. The case was smashed. There were loose bullets and shotgun shells all over the floor.

  "There was nobody at the registers, so I just left. I still can't believe I got in and out like that without getting hurt."

  He stopped and lit a cigarette.

  "That's when I saw her. I knew it was her, because she had this ugly pink coat that she liked to wear. This guy was...um...he was on top of her, and he was assaulting her right there on the ground. I knocked him off her...then I...I just beat him and kicked him. I think he might have died.

  "When I went to check on her, she scratched me and tried to bite me. I tried talking to her, but it wasn't her anymore. All she could do was grunt and growl. I couldn't help her, so I left her there."

  He put the heels of his hands against his eyes as if he were trying to mash away the memory.

  "Um...there's a gas station over by the county high school that sells kerosene, so I drove out there. There were lots of cars lined up to the station, but they were all abandoned. I found a gas pump that was on, and I filled up my cans with gas and the same with the kerosene, and then I loaded up some others that were sitting next to other cars that were in line.

  "I went in the little convenience store there to at least make an effort to pay, but nobody was in there. I went in the stock room and got all the canned goods, water, cigarettes, and toilet paper I could fit in my vehicle. I left a note on the counter with my name and address so I could settle up with them later. Then I went home.

  "I must have cried for two days straight."

  "Sorry," Jen said.

  "Thanks," he said. "But it ain't your fault. It ain't nobody's fault I don't guess. Me and Wendy, we been together since high school. We had to get married--you know how that is. My folks were so embarrassed, but I really couldn't have had a better wife...a better friend. I miss her, but I don't got no regrets when it comes to her."

  He wiped away tears, put out his cigarette, and lit another.

  "If what y'all say is true about the virus, then I guess Katie has it, too, or is like us and hiding somewhere. Either way, I'll probably never see her again either. I've already cried for her, too."

  "Have you been out since then?" I asked.

  "I went over to check on some of the neighbors, but nobody answered the door. I thought about driving north--trying to find Katie--but I wanted to wait until things died down some. But now...."

  "Things aren't dying down," Jen said. "It's as bad out there now as it was on Thursday."

  "What have y'all seen?"

  "It hasn't changed from last week," I said. "Except maybe there are more infected people now."

  He stared at the smoke coming off the end of his cigarette.

  "I'm a mess," he said. "This whole thing with Wendy and Katie--I'm messed up over it."

  "We can understand that," Jen said.

  "But I'll help y'all any way I can. I don't know if I'll be any good to you."

  "We all lost somebody," I said. "We're all messed up.”

  Charlie offered to help us collect supplies and we accepted. We told him we'd be back when the rain stopped, thanked him for his hospitality, and then we left. The five gallons of gas he'd given us brought us to just under half of a tank.

  "What do you think?" I said as we pulled away from Charlie's house. "Should we invite him to come in with us?"

  "He seems to be okay there," Jen said. "We know where he is if we need him."

  "Don't you like him?"

  "Honestly," Jen said, "it's the cigarettes. He just chained smoked the whole time. It would be okay if he'd go outside, but I don't want to make him do something like that. We can live however we want now, and I don't want to live with someone that smokes."

  "I thought he was nice," said Sara. "Maybe he would smoke outside if we asked him to."

  "He would be helpful," I said. "And he did seem really nice."

  "I don't doubt that," Jen said. "He seemed like a really sweet guy, but I just can't do it. The smoke from the stove has me stuffed up enough. I'm not going to live with it if I don't have to. Besides, I'm liable to have a weak moment and start up again. That's the last thing I need."

  "What if he asks to join us? We can't just turn him away."

  "Then we need to lay down some rules," Jen said.

  We found the perfect house on Fister Lane. It was a huge, two story brick house with a three-bay garage set well off the road with a long, paved driveway that circled up to the house giving it access to the road in two places. It had two chimneys--one on the end and one in the middle of the house--which is something you just don't see anymore on newer houses. The property was open. There was a small lake behind the house with a dock. There were also rows of trees to the side of the house. I wouldn't know until they leafed out, but it was likely that it was a little orchard. Plus, there was a new, black Cadillac Escalade parked out front.

  I didn't think the house nor the property was especially pretty, but who cared about aesthetics when the place was built like a fortress?

  Another thing that got my attention was that it had a little building behind the house. It looked like it might be a guest or pool house.

  "Now that's what I'm talking about!" Jen said. "Pull in, and let's check it out."

  I felt kind of bad hoping the house would be unoccupied, because that would mean the owners would have likely been sick or dead.

  We pulled up close to the front door. We all pulled our masks up. I got the shotgun and knocked on the door while Jen and Sara went around looking in windows. When no one answered the door, I walked around the other side of the house and tried to lift the garage doors, but they wouldn't come up. I continued around and met Jen and Sara on the back patio. There was an in-ground pool. The building in the back turned out to be a guesthouse.

  I tried the patio door on the main house, and it slid open. Jen grinned at me
and went inside. It was a nice house like Brian Davies' home, but much less tastefully decorated. We didn't care. Jen wanted comfort, and this place promised that, so long as those chimneys were functional.

  We were standing in the kitchen. From there, we could see the great room and dining room. Sitting next to the dining table was a suitcase and a garment bag. On the table was a small lockbox and car keys.

  "What's that smell?" Sara said.

  "Yeah," I said. "I smell it, too. We need to stay close to each other. Jen, give Sara that revolver."

  Jen pulled the weapon from her waistband and handed it to Sara. With the three of us armed we began our sweep of the house.

  On the ground floor we found two bedrooms suites, a laundry/mud room, a living room, kitchen, great room, a half bath, and dining room. I opened the door to the garage. There was a tan Honda Civic in one of the bays, but that was the only vehicle.

  Upstairs, we went down the hall looking in rooms. We found two more bedrooms and a full bath. The last door was another bedroom. The smell hit us hard, and I thought Sara was going to puke. There was a fireplace on the far wall, and the bed was to our left. On the bed was an infected man. His hands were tied together and tied again to the headboard. He was lying there in his own excrement. His wrists were raw. His left ankle was opened up and scabbed over; it looked like it had been eaten. There was a dead cat in there, too. I don't know how it had died--either from thirst or from eating on the infected man.

  The man hissed at us.

  "My God, what is this?" Jen said.

  "They must have restrained him the way I did with Brian," I said. "Then I guess they left him after he turned. Maybe they were infected, too."

  Jen grabbed the knob and shut the door. We all stood in the hallway. We could hear the man making noises inside.