Records of the Resistance (Book 1): Better Lucky than Good

by Shaun Meehan

  "When I was younger, I had been a cabinet maker." said the old man, who was sitting on the edge of the bed located to the far side of Lindsay's own.

  "You'll have to forgive me, but I'm not entirely sure what that entails." Clay replied, unsure of how this man could assist him in their plan.

  "Well, I imagine that you'd like to know roughly how much material you'll need before you head to the lumber yard. I've got more than a little bit of knowledge regarding that subject." he replied.

  "What about the design? Any chance that you might have any input on that as well?" Clay asked, probing further after having begun to take the man more seriously.

  The old man stood to his feet with the assistance of an elderly woman, who appeared to be his wife.

  "I think I can come up with something suitable for both the roof and our sleeping arrangements." he replied.

  "What's your name, sir?" Clay asked.

  "My name is William." the elderly man stated.

  "Okay, William. When we're finished up here, take as many people as you need to assist you. Try to come up with something quickly though. I'd like to head to the lumber yard, sooner than later." Clay said.

  "Kevin, any chance that you could figure out how we can move a large inventory of lumber across town, in a single trip?" Clay asked sarcastically.

  “Oh common Clay, that's too easy!" Kevin said coyly.

  "We have a company truck parked in the warehouse. We even have ourselves a driver." he continued, while looking down at Tim.

  "You're kidding, right?" Clay asked Kevin, incredulously.

  "Been driving truck for nineteen years now..." answered Tim.

  Melanie began laughing from her position on the bed behind Clay.

  "You should have checked the list you had me make last night, before you started your little speech." she said smartly.

  "I think you're right..." Clay replied, shaking his head.

  The group who had now fully encircled Clay, had all begun to chuckle along with Melanie and Clay.

  "What about the rest of us?" Lindsay asked amidst the group's laughter.

  Clay paused for a moment before responding to Lindsay. He honestly wasn't sure what they should all busy themselves with. Then again, he wondered. Maybe busying themselves is exactly what they should do. Melanie was correct in her assertion, that Clay should have taken the time to look over the inventory that he had requested her to complete, prior to assigning jobs for today. However, even without seeing the list, Clay had known that not everyone would have skills that would set them apart from the rest. Even so, everyone could contribute in their own way, making every individual in the group equally important. Busying themselves was exactly what they should do.

  "Look everyone... I'm not sure if there is a delicate way to say this or not..." Clay began, while sounding apologetic.

  "There is no telling how long we are going to be here. Hell, there is even the possibility that we will never depart. That leaves us with two options, as far as I see it. We can make do as things are now and await either military assistance or eviction by the infected... Or we can accept that our situation, as distasteful as it may be, could become improved if only slightly by our acceptance of the simple fact that we might be stuck here for a while..." he continued.

  Clay paused briefly, taking a moment to observe the group's initial reactions to his statement. He made a point of making eye contact with as many individuals as he could during the short pause in his monologue.

  "... Not all of us are going to have the skills or experience that make us noticeably stand apart from the rest of the group. I want each and every one of you to know, that even the most seemingly meagre contributions are equally as important as some of the most unique skills. If we are to stand any chance at surviving the days ahead of us, it's going to be by working together as a community. It is paramount that each and every one of us feels as though they belong to this community." Clay said.

  He could see that his words had begun to hit home with the group. Clay was certain that they had all been sharing similar concerns regarding the future of everyone present, and what their role in the overall organization of the group would be. Clay intended on making the hierarchy of the community plainly evident to everyone who was now listening.

  "Now, I'm sure that some of you are beginning to wonder about the relevance of your skills and how they may effect your position within the community. The answer to any questions that you may have regarding this subject is a simple one. There isn't going to be any hierarchy. No one person is going to be more important than another, nor is any opinion going to carry more weight than another." Clay went on.

  The gigantic building had remained completely silent, save for the voice of Clay. Even Melanie, who had proven just prior to Clay beginning his speech that she wasn't shy about speaking her mind, listened quietly. Clay hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he continued to speak.

  "Based on the information provided to us by the military, it appears that this crisis isn't simply a local affair. Many of those who survived the outbreak, haven't been lucky enough to survive its aftermath. Now, I'm not attempting to iterate some kind of 'we can build a whole new world' speech. We are in no position to allow ourselves the belief that we are building anything. It stands to reason that for humanity to survive, a population is required and we are a part of that population. Our focus is to be solely on our survival. We can survive by running and hiding, abandoning the weak and forgetting what it actually means to be a human in general. Or we can create a new home here and at least make an attempt to carry on our lives, despite the situation at hand. When I look around at all of you, I don't see a bunch of individuals in front of me, but a large family..." he said.

  Clay was quickly beginning to exhaust all of the material he had on this subject, although he hadn't felt as though his words had carried the weight which he had initially intended. Moments such as this were the source of the aversion that he felt towards leadership. Simply put, Clay felt inadequate as a leader. Without anything more to say, Clay's pause began to become awkwardly elongated.

  Lindsay was quick to break the silence in the absence of Clay's voice.

  "I don't think that anyone could have said it better, Clay." she said.

  "For anyone who isn't sure what do to, or isn't otherwise preoccupied, I'll be right here. I'm going to be working on keeping the children occupied, while starting to clear a space to allow for more beds. I'm sure that several people's sleeping arrangements had felt pretty awkward last night. Unfortunately, we lacked enough space to allow for everyone to have their own bed to sleep in. But before I do that, I'm going to see if there isn't a way that we can get some coffee on the go. I don't know about everyone else, but I've been dying for some caffeine." Lindsay continued, while looking around at those surrounding her.

  The entire group who numbered thirty-five in total, uniformly began to erupt in a mix of laughter, while some began to comment amidst the noise about their similar desire for a good cup of coffee.

  "Well, I guess that settles it then." Clay began.

  "You all know what to do. If you don't, report to either myself, Lindsay, or William and we can get you sorted out." he finished.

  Immediately, everyone began to form small groups, discussing their plans for the day. The once quiet building came to life with the people busying themselves. One of the young women had begun to gather together all of the children and lead them away in the direction of the building's toy department. Lindsay soon began to coordinate the effort, in which the people would begin their pseudo-renovation of the department store's interior.

  Clay stood and removed himself from the hustle and bustle of the activities' epicentre. He was soon followed by Tim, Kevin, Mel and Mick, who all had efforts of their own to organize. They quickly formed a circle around Clay and awaited further instruction from him.

  "That was pretty good." Tim said smartly, referring to Clay's speech.

  Clay's respon
se to Tim came in the form of a half-smile accompanied by the rolling of his eyes.

  "Mick, are you ready for what we discussed yesterday?" Clay asked.

  "Wait..." Melanie interrupted. "What did you discuss yesterday?"

  "Grenades. We're going to need to start fortifying this place, which includes improvising some weaponry." Clay answered.

  "Does that mean...?" Melanie began to ask, but was soon interrupted by Mick who cut her sentence short.

  "Yes. It means that we're going need what remains of the outfitter's black powder supply." Mick said.

  "And how do you suppose that you're going to accomplish that?" she asked.

  "Tim and Kevin. I need you guys to get that truck ready to move. But before you do that, I need you to take everyone who is both capable and willing to fight, over to the hardware department. Make sure they're all adequately armed to fight the infected. Axes, sledgehammers... Anything sturdy enough to either cleave, or crush a skull." Clay instructed.

  "You got it." Kevin said in reply.

  "Mick, I need you to find yourself two volunteers, who fully understand the risks associated with your mission, and are still willing to go along with you." Clay said, after turning his gaze towards Mick.

  "It's already done, Clay." he replied.

  "Good. Our little trip to the lumber yard is going to be to your advantage. The sound of that truck's engine is going to attract a lot of undead. That should leave you free to get to the outfitter's and back without much interference from the infected." Clay said to Mick, before turning his attention to the group.

  "Now... You all know what to do. Let's try to be ready in no less then thirty minutes. Tim... Kevin... I'll meet you in the warehouse. Let's get to it." he finished.

  With that, Mick, Kevin and Tim, all dispersed, leaving only Melanie and Clay standing together in what had once been a circle of discussion.

  "What the fuck, Clay? Why do I get the feeling that you're leaving me out of this? Haven't I proven that I'm capable of contributing beyond preparing your meals? You're punishing me for arguing with you this morning!" Melanie said, quickly becoming angry with Clay for the second time that day.

  Clay stood face to face with Melanie, reaching his hand out and grasping her shoulder before issuing her his reply.

  "Melanie, I'm not punishing you. When I'm gone, you're filling my shoes. I need you to make sure someone is waiting for Mick and the others when they get back, and that someone else is watching for the truck so that when we get back, the bay door is open. I also need someone who can cover our entrance to the docks, should we require it. You're the only one capable of that." he answered.

  Melanie remained silent, not being sure that she fully believed Clay's explanation. Truthfully, Clay had left her for all of the reasons which he had stated, but his desire for her safety had also contributed to his decision. During the battle with the undead at the apartment building, Clay had been spurred on by the memory of the girl who had attempted to escape the burning farm house, the night he had met Mel. Her screams would forever be ingrained in his memory, as would the sudden silence that befell her as the infected had successfully beaten her to death. He was quickly growing fond of the friendship that he had found with Melanie and was determined to prevent her from sharing a similar fate with the woman at the farmhouse.

  "Fine..." she finally said in reply. "But you better not be lying to me."

  "Come on. Keep me company, while I get ready to go." Clay said with a smile.

  *****

  It had taken them a while, but Clay and Melanie had successfully found their way through the warehouse and into the loading docks. As they approached the truck, Kevin's voice could be heard in discussion with Tim's, regarding the seating arrangements for everyone who would be heading to the lumber yard. Clay would be accompanied by four other men in total. Kevin and Tim couldn't seem to reach an agreement on how everyone should travel.

  "Our only option, is to put us in the trailer." Clay interrupted the pair, as he approached the truck.

  "That's what I've been trying to tell him!" Tim said in response to Clay. "But he's worried that whoever is in the trailer may get hurt should we need to... Drive evasively.”

  Clay and Melanie stopped at the edge of the loading dock, whose bumpers were currently being squeezed tight by the trailer which had been pressed against them. Clay began to look around at those who would be going on the supply run, all of whom had fought alongside him at the apartment building.

  "We really don't have much of a choice. There isn't a chance in hell that we can all fit into the cab of the truck, even with the sleeper." he replied.

  "Alright, alright. So what's the plan then, Clay?" Kevin asked, after conceding to Tim and Clay's combined argument.

  "You and Tim are in the cab. Mel has a pair of bolt cutters for you, just in case the gate is locked. It's your job Kevin, to get that gate open." Clay began.

  Melanie stepped forward and handed the heavy pair of bolt cutters to Kevin.

  "We'll all be waiting in the trailer, which will also be your job to open once we arrive." Clay continued to speak directly to Kevin.

  "Tim, under no circumstance are you to get out of that driver's seat. As soon as Kevin opens the trailer for us to get out, turn the truck off. If you leave the truck running as we're loading the trailer, the sound of the engine will lead any infected within earshot directly to our position. We may not have the opportunity to button up the trailer before we take off, so you're going to have to pay attention to what's going on. If we're in a hurry to get the hell out of there, as soon as everyone is on board you get us moving. Understood?" Clay instructed, this time to Tim.

  "Got it." he replied confidently.

  "My shotgun is going to be in the trailer with us and should any undead try to board the truck while we are making our exit, we'll use it to fight them off. Outside of that circumstance, the shotgun is out of the picture." Clay said, turning his attention now to those who would be accompanying him in the trailer.

  "Is everyone otherwise armed accordingly?" Clay asked, after receiving a nod from the other men regarding the appropriate use of his shotgun.

  All who were present raised their weapon of choice into the air in response to Clay's question. In their hands was a mix of sledge hammers and axes of various description. Clay looked each weapon over, one after another, while nodding his approval.

  "Well, I wouldn't want to square off against any of you while those are in your hands." Clay said about their chosen implements, drawing some quiet laughter from the men.

  "Alright. Well... Let's get moving." Clay finished.

  Tim and Kevin took off in the direction of the cab, while the other two men made their entrance into the trailer of the truck. Clay turned and faced Melanie.

  "You good to go?" he asked.

  Melanie leaned forward towards Clay, while grabbing a handful of his shirt in her fist.

  "I hope you won't do anything stupid out there, Clay." Melanie said, with deep overtones of anxiety in her voice.

  "Mel, everything is going to be fine. In less than two hours, we'll be flying through that parking lot and you'll be running down here to let us in." Clay replied, trying to ease her mind.

  Melanie paused a moment and stared hard into Clay's eyes. To the best of his recollection, this had been the first time that his gaze had actually met Melanie's.

  "I mean it, Clay. If you can't get all the wood we need, but you can get back here in one piece, then do it. I'd rather have you here, than have my own bedroom." Melanie insisted, having felt uneasy about the idea of this trip since its conception.

  Clay gripped Mel's shoulder firmly in his hand.

  "Melanie, relax. Just keep your eyes open for us, as well as Mick. It'll be over before you know it." he said.

  "Now close up the trailer behind me and open the bay doors so we can get this over with." Clay finished, before turning and walking into the trailer.

  Melanie couldn't shake the memories of her
own previous supply run from her mind, as she swung closed the heavy trailer doors. Ultimately, it had been the failure of that same disastrous expedition which had saved her life. However, from it she had gained first hand knowledge pertaining to just how quickly the streets can go from quiet, to crawling with infected.

  When the truck's engine roared to life, Melanie stepped away from the pluming exhaust and palmed a button situated on a pedestal at the end of the dock. The towering door began to lift, rolling itself up along the upper frame of the bay.

  Melanie struggled to maintain her composure while watching the truck pull away from the safe enclosure of the warehouse, with Clay stowed away in its interior. Uncertainty towards how well she would continue to cope with the new state of the world had begun to gain a foothold within her thoughts, as she helplessly watched him disappear into the distance.