by Kuhn, Steve
The perimeter of the entire place is surrounded by a virtually impenetrable barrier of the most unlikely thing… school buses—big, old, yellow-ass school buses. They had at some point driven them all into place and then used dozers and lifts from the surrounding farms to drag them to the proper positions. They then managed to stack them two layers high, adding in old cars and broken-down trucks here and there—not surprising, really. Every proper hillbilly has about six cars in the front yard that don’t run, right? It’s amazing when you really step back and take it all in. Matter of fact, Harris says they still have fuel left from when they drained all the tanks of these things. The ingenuity and hard work of these hillbillies is exactly why they’re still here and thriving. City folk are way too lazy for that shit.
Harris met the entire group at the ‘gate’ along with a few other yokels. The gate was really just a place where they kept a tractor and some chains posted so they could drag the buses open enough to load and unload gear and people.
One thing’s for sure, Harris isn’t Barney Fife. Harris is a huge beast of a man with a full-on mountain-man beard and broad stature. He reminds me of a grizzly bear, but with a much kinder smile.
He greeted Cotton and the others as some of the men began unloading the camper and the packs we had.
Cotton told him, “New arrivals.”
Harris turned his attention to us and gave us a big, old grin. “Second set of visitors in just a couple of weeks! Things are lookin’ up. Damned glad to see there are still survivors around. Where you folks from anyway?”
We all rattled off where we started this whole thing and did some introductions, but I’ll spare you all that bullshit. Murphy had given Kylee some old driving gloves from D-Prime’s glove box after he cut off the fingers from them. I guess he thought they’d be a cool way to hide the bite, but she looked like a lesbian—not a porno lesbian, either, if you get my drift. She winced in pain when they shook hands, but I don’t think Harris noticed it.
He took a knee and addressed Lilly, asking, “And what’s your name, beautiful?”
Lilly gave him a big grin and told him, “Lillith Harley Aricott.” She jutted out her hand for a shake in an overly dramatic five-year-old kinda way, and Harris graciously accepted it.
“Very pleased to meet you, Ms. Aricott,” he said playfully, clearly comfortable with children. “You wanna go see the playground? I think Joey and Jay are over there. Those are my boys. I reckon they’re about your age.”
Lilly grinned wide and said, “You got a playground?”
Candice offered, “I’ll take her over.”
Rebecca scoffed at Dana for not vetoing Candice’s offer and said smartly, “I’ll go, too, then. Things aren’t always what they seem…”
Dana looked dumbfounded at the awkwardness of the moment, and Harris gave a puzzled look, but I can’t say I disagree with Rebecca here. Dana didn’t know what it was like out there. She was coddled before we found her, and she hadn’t done shit besides minding Lilly since. That sort of easy trust will get you killed. I have to wonder why Harris isn’t more wary of us. Either this place is that under control or they’ve become that complacent.
Harris shook it off as Candice and Rebecca took Lilly down the street and told the rest of us, “A couple families left a few days back when a bunch of government types came through. We can put you up in their old place until you decide if you want to stay or go. You’re welcome, either way, as long as you don’t disturb the peace. Though, from the looks of that truck out there, you seem to be comfortable on the road.”
I remember thinking, This guy must be fucking retarded. Comfortable on the road… Kidding, right?
I really didn’t have the words to explain what the road was like to someone who hadn’t actually done it before, and I don’t mean a little scouting and scavenging. We’d been living on the road. We’d killed and been killed. I have to wonder if Harris knew anything of what that was like.
Cotton leaned in and whispered to me while Harris tended to unpacking with Kylee and the others, “I see it in your face, boy. Harris is a good man… and he’s perfect for this community. But he’s never killed anything but deer and shamblers. You should take solace in the fact that, while he may not have any idea of what it’s like on the outside, he won’t be a threat to you or your people in here. You’d do well to remember that and act accordingly. What you people did out there, you did to survive. Nobody blames you for that, but you leave that shit on the outside. We clear?”
Cotton got it.
This house we’re in is creepy as hell. It’s nice, actually, but that’s why it’s creepy. There’re still pictures on the wall and furniture and toys for Lilly. It’s a home, but it’s not ours.
Lilly’s lost some innocence already, but I don’t know if everyone’s noticed it or not. She set a bunch of stuffed animals all throughout the first floor and she’s been clearing the rooms like we do on shopping day. I’ve been watching her for a while now, and it’s amazing what she’s learned by observing in such a short time. She hits a doorway, and she does the pizza move, holding her fingers out like a pistol. When she spots one of her stuffed animals, she goes, “Pew, pew… Gotcha!”
I guess that got boring after a while, so now she’s got two drumsticks from a toy drum set, and she just whacked her dinosaur over the head and flexed on it like Cutty. It’s cute, but it’s also unsettling.
Murphy changed Kylee’s dressing and went to ask Harris if he would mind us taking the house from the second family that left as well for a while. He bullshitted him and told him that the girls wanted some time to themselves. Harris was cool and gave it over without a second thought, so we’ve put Kylee there with Cutty. JC figured it would be better if she told Cutty what happened on her own.
As for Dana, well, she’s upstairs in the owner’s bedroom going through the makeup and the clothes… but whatever. At least she’s back in her element.
We have eighty-seven people, and most are family groups. They know their guns, and everyone has at the very least a shotgun and a bow of some sort. Many of these men are avid hunters, and a handful of them have been reloading their own casings for years. They are 100 percent red blooded, second amendment, homeland motherfuckin’ Americans. No wonder why there was never a successful ground invasion of the United States—present situation excluded, of course…
I’m not worried about Kilo anymore, and I’m not worried about food or ammo or getting overrun while we sleep tonight. This place is going to work out. We’ll get Kylee sorted, and we’ll settle down. No Haven. No crazies. No bernies.
I daresay it’s paradise, and we’ve fucking earned it.
Entry 99
Harris and Cotton have left us to our own devices for the past two days. It’s been a nice, little vacation. The mornings are pleasant with children in the yards and the smell of venison and fresh produce filling the little streets. We even ate a proper breakfast today, and a nice woman named Nina brought us coffee. We. Had. Hot. Coffee.
Lilly remains playful, but is very much antisocial with regards to other kids. She keeps to herself at the playground, and the only time I really saw her out of her shell was when I ran a footrace down Main Street with all the kids. Apparently, Cutty has spread the word about my speed, and everyone wants to try me. I’m still the undefeated champion, but I know one of these little pricks will win eventually. Hell, I can only run about four or five times in a row before I get tired, and there’s still a line of them ready to race.
Kylee’s doing well. She isn’t even showing any signs of sickness—no coughing, no fever, nothing. Her wound is slightly infected, but nothing major. Murphy managed to swindle some antibiotics out of the town pharmacist in trade for some handmade arrows. We were told that they don’t have a fletcher here, so Murphy’s workmanship could become a great commodity for us.
I’m pretty sure JC has fucked like four chicks already, because every time I see him, he’s in his underwear and there’s some random woman doing a
walk of shame out the front door. I figure, as long as he doesn’t bang some dude’s wife, whatever keeps him out of trouble is good by me.
Cutty and Rebecca, on the other hand, spent the last couple of evenings in the local church. They’ve gotten to know the pastor a bit, and I think that they’ll thrive pretty well in that area of the community. Cutty even told me it was nice to finally have the blood off of his hands. He meant that literally. There has always been some sort of gore or stain or smear on something since we hit the road. Clean clothes and clean bodies make us feel human again.
All that sounds fine and well… and believe me, it is. I’m sure, as time passes we’ll become even more settled in. We’ll make friends here, and we’ll go out and scavenge if we have to. But there’s one thing no one warned us about once we got inside.
Our own minds.
I feel like I’m going insane. Sleeping on the road is always this weird, half-conscious state that you can snap out of almost immediately. Sleeping here is deep and physically relaxing, but it brings nightmares. I wake up drenched in sweat and grabbing for a weapon almost every time.
Last night I talked to Junior and Wyatt—only, Junior had a gaping hole in his stomach that oozed blood and bile; when he spoke, it was a gurgling growl that only I could understand.
Wyatt was missing an arm and half his face. He was burned and charred all along his right side, yet he smiled. He didn’t speak, though. I tried to talk to him, but I don’t think he could talk back. He had bitten his own tongue off when the blast hit him.
I’m sitting here on the front porch of a home with the sun shining down on me, warming me comfortably as I write, but I feel guilty for being here. Our group is splintering quietly now that we’re not forced to be around one another at every moment, and I’m beginning to feel alone. I guess I should be thankful, but instead I feel like I never did enough.
I feel like this would be so much better if Fool was hanging with JC and high-fiving over their feminine conquests or Wyatt and Gary were trying to get Rebecca to rig them up some way to play video games. I also wish Junior and Cutty were calling each other “nigger” and “cracker” again…
So many have given their lives for us to be here—their lives. That’s a one-shot deal.
We need to make Lilly understand that. We need to tell her every day that she should be grateful for what she has, regardless of how much she’s lost in her short time on this planet. And I’m beginning to think that JC is right to teach her the things he’s taught her. He’s preparing her so that when real life in this new world hits her, it doesn’t shock her like it did us—moreover, so she doesn’t let that shock get her killed.
Last night, she asked him if Kylee was going to turn into a monster and if we were going to have to kill her like we killed her mom and dad.
He told her, “We didn’t kill your mom and dad, kiddo. I really want you to understand that. Those monsters only look like people we know sometimes, but it’s never ever them. Your mom and dad loved you very much. They would never try and hurt you, but once they turn, they’re not themselves anymore. They’ll try and kill anyone and anything. They’re not the same person they once were.”
She asked him, “So, if Kylee turns into a monster, she won’t be Kylee anymore? And she won’t know my name anymore?”
He answered her with, “That’s right.”
She continued, “And she won’t remember how we played together or that you were her friend?”
JC nodded and chucked Lilly on her chin. “Nope. You have to kill them. You mess up their head until they fall, and that’s all you can do. It’s like setting them free and making the monster let go of them.”
Lilly asked one final question. “Then they can go to heaven?”
JC struggled with the answer to that question. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t work up the courage to answer her.
Cutty saved his ass and told her, “Dat’s right, baby girl. Dey go ta heaven afta dat, but you ain’t gotta worry ’bout Kylee. She gon’ be a’ight.”
Lilly smiled and said, “Got it, Mr. JC.”
JC told her on the sly, “You can call me JC, kiddo. Dana’s not around.”
Come to think of it, Dana’s been scarce for quite a while now. She comes to the house at night to sleep, but it seems she’s not only taking a break from the road, but also taking a break from Lilly. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I guess, I understand.
I think after dinner tonight, I’ll ask Harris when the next hunt is going to happen. I figure I better learn some skills to contribute around here, and I’ve always wanted to learn how to hunt.
Entry 100
I don’t know what the others are going to say when they hear about this. For all I know, they may have already heard about it. I’m sure news travels fast in this place, and I haven’t really seen much of them, save for when we all come home to sleep.
My heart fell into my gut when Cotton approached me. It was because I knew that look on his face. I had seen it all too well when we were pointing guns at one another. It was calm, collected, and in control. He wears his mood on his face—not that he’s easy to read, mind you; it’s just that I can tell when he’s in business mode.
He had Harris with him but, even with Harris’ bigger build and more intimidating physical stature, Cotton looked more like the bodyguard in this scenario. They raised their hands in a greeting with somber faces and gestured me somewhat kindly to a little space between the two houses we now occupy.
Harris took a deep breath and asked me, “Why didn’t you say something? You could have just told us.”
I knew they had found out. It was as plain as the beard on Harris’ face, but I couldn’t help but to play dumb. I figured if I played it off like I was shocked I would be able to figure out how much they knew and all that before I had a chance to put my foot in my mouth. I just answered with, “Told you what?”
Cotton saw right through me, but kept his cool. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You knew that girl was bit. All of you did. You put this entire community at risk.”
I made an attempt to explain it to them. I laid it all on the table. “Look. The military has an idea on how to stop this thing, but it’s imperfect. They gave ‘vaccines’ to most of the forces before all this shit got out of hand, but they didn’t really know about the side effects. The vaccine was to prevent the soldiers from turning when they died. Bites were still as deadly as they were for the rest of us, but they wouldn’t turn! The major problem was that many of those injected actually turned for no reason, without a bite and without dying. They just went to sleep and woke up dead.”
I was kind of shocked that neither of them seemed surprised by this. I kept going.
“But it did work on a large number of them. All the men in those military vehicles that came by here were all good to go. But Kylee… Kylee’s different, guys. You gotta understand. She’s the only one we know of that can survive a bite. She’s survived one before, and this one is no different. We took precautions just in case, but that was our business. We didn’t know how you’d react. You don’t know the kind of crazy shit we’ve been through on the road. We couldn’t take any chances with new people.”
Cotton scratched his head in thought, as though he was trying to figure out what to do with me. He looked like my father used to look when he knew I needed to be punished, but he understood why I fucked up. Harris had more of a disappointed look on his face.
I asked them, “How’d you find out anyway?”
Harris tightened his lips like he knew I was going to ask that and told me, “Well, my two boys were playing with Lilly on the playground like they do. Joey and Jay were acting like shamblers, which I’ve since corrected them for, by the way, and you have my apologies for that. Your little girl was gettin’ a little scared, so she sort of took matters into her own hands.”
“Oh?”
Harris continued with a half smile and said, “Well, apparently she told them to stop, and when th
ey didn’t, she kicked them both in the nuts, picked up two sticks, and whooped ’em both. Joey told her she wasn’t allowed to do that because in the game, she was bitten and was supposed to turn. But your girl told him she was ‘tough like Kylee and that bites don’t hurt her.’ They argued. One thing led to another, and she spilled it.”
Cotton spoke up, “Now, all this immunity business may or may not be true, but the bottom line is that we cannot and will not take any risks here in this community—never have and never will. That’s why we’re still here and they’re out there.”
I asked the obvious question, “What do you want us to do?”
Cotton answered me flatly, “It’s already been taken care of.”
I reached for my belt.
Fuck!
My fucking gun was in the house—too Goddamn comfortable here. I’m slippin’.
I demanded, “The fuck you mean ‘taken care of’?”
Harris opened his palms in a gesture of peace and said, “Just calm down… Here. She said she wanted you to have this.”
He held out a folded piece of paper in my direction, so I snatched it away and opened it up, but not before I told both of them, “If you laid a single finger on her, I will kill you both with my bare hands.”
And ya know what? I wasn’t kidding, either.
The note read as follows:
I’ve been asked to leave. They wanted to put a bullet in my head, but lucky for me, they’re not as dumb as you would expect.
I can’t ask any of you to come along with me. I don’t have the heart for it. You’ll be safe there, and isn’t that really what we wanted all along?
I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking the jeep. Hell, maybe I’ll be able to catch up with Kilo once I’m on my own.
It’s been one helluva ride, huh, guys? We’ve been through so much, and I never could have done it alone. I’m so thankful I had each of you with me, and I’ll miss you all so much.