by W. J. Lundy
The raiders had used a pair of bulldozers to build a high earthen barrier, then lined the outsides with vertical logs. In some places, the dirt was packed right against the community’s buildings as high as the roof lines. Two tall sheet metal gates were placed where the railroad tracks ran through the fence. Another tall gate was placed where they’d entered earlier on the east side near the town’s only road entrance.
The work had left the small community looking like a mess of trenches and mud. The stream that was sparkling clear on the ride in was now clouded with mud and soil. But, looking around, Shane had to agree the defenses looked efficient, and the high berms provided easy access to the tops of the inside wall. These people knew what they were doing and, by the looks of them, had done it before.
A short, skinny man, introduced as Bones, led them toward a big, red barn. Over the open doors was a faded sign that read ‘Welcome to Crabtree’, and people moved around outside the structure. Beyond it was the makings of a tent city and a sort of motor pool filled with an assortment of vehicles. A board walk made of logs wound between the tents and skirted a muddy dirt road. Smoke hung in the air from campfires. Henry leaned toward Shane and spoke softly. “They’ve been busy; this looks nothing like it used to.”
Bones continued guiding them to the barn and spoke over his shoulder. “You been to Crabtree before?” the man said, overhearing the comment.
Henry’s eyes widened in surprise at having been heard. “Years ago. Passed through here as a young man.”
“Ah, I see,” Bones replied. He walked them to a split rail fence, then stopped to light a hand-rolled cigarette. “You can tie your ponies here,” he said as he turned to face them, showing scabbed lips and buck teeth. He stood with his hands on his hips. “Like you said, we been busy, that’s for sure. Can’t loiter out in the frontier. We got the fence up as soon as we could, train will be here soon, and ya’ll know Carson won’t visit a post without a fence.”
“Yup, you got that right,” Henry bluffed. He sighed and approached the rail, using a mangers tie to secure the reigns. Without speaking, he slipped back around and retrieved a pair of feed bags. He gave one to Shane, then readied the horses. “What’s with the barn? I don’t like leaving my stock outside in the weather,” he said, slipping the bag over his horse then retrieving his rifle from the leather sheath.
Bones turned and looked into the stable. “Barn’s occupied at the moment, but I’m sure we could find you somethin’ if you’re fixin’ on stayin’. Most of these outer buildings is empty for the time bein’.”
Shane moved around Sally and stared into the open doors. “So, what’s in the barn then?”
Bones turned back and looked him in the eye. “Nothin’ for you to worry about. C’mon, Gus is waitin’ on ya.”
With the horses tied, Henry nodded to Shane and turned to follow the skinny man across the compound. To the west of the flat-roofed gas station was a country market, two stories and built mostly of red brick. Opposite that was an old, wood-sided farmhouse and, running along the road, two smaller homes with detached garages and outbuildings. Farther west on the main road was another pair of warehouse-shaped buildings that sat alone with nobody near them. Every place outside of the warehouse buildings, people were at work—unloading trucks, splitting firewood, making repairs to buildings.
Bones moved directly to the market where a pair of men holding shotguns sat on a picnic table just in front of the building’s door, sipping coffee from tin cups. Above the doorway was another sign that read “Horton’s Sundries”. The men at the table eyed the strangers as they passed. Henry stopped just short of the door and turned away, startling Shane with the unexpected movement.
The old man fished out his pipe and began packing it with tobacco from a pouch. As he packed, he took slow steps toward the seated men. “Nice place you got the makings of here,” Henry said, searching his pockets for a match.
Bones shook his head and stepped away from the door. “Gus is expectin’ us inside.”
Henry found the match and, much to Bones’ annoyance, lit the pipe, then moved to the table and sat beside the two shotgun-wielding men. “We been riding a spell, let me catch my breath a minute,” Henry said, nodding to the men across from him. Shane tried to hide a grin after catching an impatient sigh from Bones. Out of habit, the soldier moved tactically behind the seated men and leaned against the building’s wall.
“You got more of that coffee?” the old man asked, looking at the steaming tin cups.
One of the guards eyed Henry suspiciously, his eyes lingering over the old man’s rifle before shifting his gaze to Shane. “We might,” he finally grunted.
The second of the guards took a gulp of his coffee before splashing the rest to the ground. He wiped his chin with the back of his glove and looked at Henry. “If you’ve got questions, you should go on and speak to Gus.”
“Never heard of her,” Henry said before drawing in on the pipe. “Should I have?”
The first guard smiled and pressed his hands to the table as he stood. “I like your style, old man. I hope you survive ‘til dinner. If you do, come look me up in the mess hall; I’ll buy you a drink.”
Bones face stiffened as he moved to the table. “Come on, you can smoke that inside.”
Henry nodded and rolled his shoulders. When Bones had turned away, he dipped his eyebrows at Shane and nodded his head. The two men followed the skinny man into the store. The door had a chime that rang as they stepped into the dark and warm interior of the building. Smelling of wood smoke and mesquite, the room was a large square, and most of the store shelves had been removed or pushed to a back wall. Along the back wall, the two men spotted gray parkas hung from a row of hooks. Where the checkout counter had been, a man now stood with a rifle; in front of him were a pair of round tables.
At the table closest to them, a group of men played cards. To the back, another pair of men sat with a third—the broad-shouldered, red-bearded man that Shane recognized as Gus. He looked up as they approached, then ushered the other two men away. He signaled a hand to the counter and the armed man behind it laid down his rifle and carried a coffee pot to the table before turning to face Henry and Shane.
“I’ll take your long guns for you,” the man said.
Henry reared back and looked at the man as if he was speaking a foreign language. “I think I’ll be all right,” he said.
Gus cleared his throat and pointed to a rack on the wall where several rifles rested. “He ain’t stealing them,” he said, annoyed. “They’ll be right over there and you can grab them when you leave.”
Henry clenched his teeth and apprehensively stretched his arm, handing off the rifle; Shane followed and did the same. “There now; that wasn’t so tough, was it?” Gus laughed, reaching for the pot and pouring the newcomers a cup of coffee. The man drew his hands back and reached for a stack of envelopes beside him. Under the envelopes was a dogeared county road atlas. “Now, about the bounties… the big ones are all but gone. All that’s left are a few hold ups out on the mountain. And, well—”
“Well what?” Henry asked, blowing on the cup before taking a sip.
“I’ve had some men come up missing—deserters probably. I could make it worth your while if you’d be interested in tracking them down.” Gus grinned, but the lines in his forehead remained hard and serious.
“It’s a big country; easy for a man to disappear in. How you know these fellas ain’t dead? You know, buried behind someone’s barn out on the range.”
The comment caught Shane off guard and caused him to spit his coffee. Gus looked up and tightened his brow. “Just who the hell are you, anyhow?”
“I reckon I’m the same as you… just a man looking to make his way. I’m Henry; this is my boy, Shane.”
Gus eyed Henry and stroked his beard. “Henry and Shane, huh? You taking this cowboy shit serious, ain’t ya? Rolling up on my spot all High Plains Drifter. Where you from, anyhow? I know it ain’t north because I’d have
seen you around.”
“Kentucky, by way of Ohio.”
“Ohio? Now, that’s some tough country these days. We got boys out of there. How’d you get across the river with them horses?”
“Wasn’t easy with the bridges out, but we found a barge down near Addison, used it to get on the river, rode it until we found a good spot to come ashore.”
“Addison you say?” Gus looked down at the county map book and used a pen to scratch a note on the cover. “So, what brings you to Crabtree?”
Henry began to speak when Gus put up a hand. “What’s with your boy here? Ain’t he got a tongue?”
Shane sat back and tried to look bored. He took another sip of the coffee and looked to Gus. “Making our way to Charleston to find my brother; looking for work along the way.”
“How long you plan on sticking around?”
“We heard you might have something for us. If so, once we get resupplied, we can get moving again.”
Gus stared hard at Shane. The young soldier held his eye, not to be intimidated by a bully. Gus smiled and let out a loud laugh that caused others in the store to turn their heads. “Well, you heard right, boy. We got a shit load of work. So much in fact, I doubt you all will want to leave once you get elbows deep in it.”
A distant explosion echoed from outside. A man near the door opened the door and looked out into the hills. On the wind carried the sounds of small arms fire. The man turned toward the far table and said, “Coming from the valley, boss.”
“Who we got up there?”
The man at the door scratched his head. “A couple missing scout teams that went out clearing farms, and the mortar and machine gun crew from the ambush yesterday, but they should be back this afternoon.”
The gunfire intensified before a long pause, then continued again briefly before finally stopping. Gus looked down at his hands, then back up. “Get some extra men out on those walls. If they got attacked by infected, they’ll probably have some in tow when they come home.”
“On it, boss,” the man at the door said before stepping out into the cold.
Gus turned his attention back to Henry. “Go with Bones, he’ll get you set up in one of the outbuildings; I’ll call for you when I have something. Until then, have a drink on me.” The man reached in his pocket and dropped a pair of .357 cartridges on the table. “That should be enough to wet your whistle.”
The men got up to leave when Gus called after them. “Wait a minute. You said you heard we had work; who told you that?”
Shane gulped and glanced at Henry who’d already pulled the pipe from his mouth and was emptying it onto the hardwood floor. “Straggly kid by the name of Ricky. Bumped into him on the road headed east. Asked if I could help get him back to Columbus.”
“Ricky, you say?” Gus pondered.
“Yup. He told us about your outfit. I offered to take him along, but he said he wasn’t interested.”
Gus turned in the direction of the two men standing off to the side. A fat chested man nodded and said, “Ricky was with the scouts; the ones sent to check out the west slope.”
“And you said he was alone?” Gus asked Henry.
“Yup, all alone, walking the road, wearing a gray coat and carrying two rifles.”
“Traitor, son of a bitch,” the fat man grunted. “Should have known that punk would run as soon as he had a chance.”
Henry cleaned the pipe with his thumb and slid it back into his breast pocket. “Ain’t but a day’s ride outside the gates. Sure you could catch ‘em if you leave soon enough,” Henry said.
Gus sighed and pointed to a man sitting at the card table. Two men got to their feet and scrambled out. Henry nodded his approval and looked back at Gus palming the .357 cartridges. “Now, you said something about a drink?”
Chapter 15
Crabtree, West Virginia
Free Virginia Territories
Gus sat watching the strangers leave the store. He snapped his fingers, calling back the men who’d been waiting in the shadows. Both were hard types and well-worn. Cousins from Indiana. They’d been with Gus since the door to door fighting in Cincinnati. He trusted them and knew them to have his back. Faces tanned and bodies calloused from living in the wild, Clyde was fat chested with a thin waist, a long scar running from his thick neck up to his cheek. Chris was gaunt, tight skinned, with bright green eyes and greasy hair. Like his cousin, he wore a pistol in a canvas shoulder holster.
The men moved to the table, and after sitting themselves, the fat one looked up at Gus. “You sure about these strangers?”
Gus hesitated, then looked across at the fat man. “We need men, and those two seem capable.”
“Yeah, but why them?” Chris asked. “They seem awful eager and cocky.”
“I might’a said the same about you a year ago,” Gus retorted. The cousins were wild cards when he took them in—two hungry and scared boys caught stealing from a supply wagon. Instead, he gave them a chance, where any other captain would have had them shot on the spot. It wasn’t that he saw ambition, talent, or any of those admirable qualities in the cousins. It was more that he saw them as a blank slate. Two youthful men that survived the fall, living off scraps and boot heels. They’d been spared the cutthroat backstabbing that Gus had went through to reach his position. He took them under his wing because he could shape them. He reached across the table and filled his empty cup from the pot. “We’re moving fast and losing men faster than we can recruit. If we want to stay on schedule, we’ll need folks to go out and do the… the dirty work.”
Clyde’s face soured. He was a hard man, but Gus knew that Clyde was still holding on to a whimsical fantasy that he was somehow doing right by the world. That he was more than a thug. “Dirty work… I get Texas, but why is this other thing even necessary? There’s plenty of country out here for us. And if word gets out, the people are going to turn on us.”
Gus chuckled to himself. It was one of the drawbacks of taking in smart men; you spent as much time debating as you did getting things done. It reminded him as much of his time being a school teacher, as it did of being the captain of a rogue army. He could be hard, but he still had to take time to listen to his people or they would turn on him. There was no such thing as blind loyalty in this world; a place where any may could turn his back and attempt to make his way on his own. Gus, having done the same thing several times since the fall, knew this better than most.
“Something funny, boss?” Clyde asked, catching the man’s attention.
The red-bearded man straightened his back and rose up in his chair. “Carson wants everything cleansed. The infection outside the gates wiped out. That means anyone not willing to join us has to go.”
“But it’s genocide,” Clyde grunted. “And what about the people in that camp? We attacked them without warning; we didn’t even give them a chance.”
The reply came back cold and hard—even the best teacher would eventually lose his patience. “You better watch your mouth speaking like that. Carson is the only reason most of us are even alive. And with the vaccine gone and no more to be produced, this is the best chance we got at wiping out the plague. We’ll save those that we can but—” He paused, searching for the right words. “This business with Cloud’s people is unfortunate, I agree, but when they sided with Texas it didn’t leave us many options.”
The fat man hung his head and mumbled. “Texas ain’t got but a dozen men this side of the Mississippi. I don’t know why the General wants to go picking fights where they ain’t needed.”
“Today a dozen, tomorrow it could be a division of tanks from Fort Hood. It’s important that we send a message,” Gus said, setting his cup down hard on the table. “People need to learn that there is only one option and that’s with us.”
Clyde folded his hands and dipped his chin. “All I’m saying is that it’s in violation of the treaty. Texas agreed to stay on their side of the Mississippi, and we agreed to protect everything on this side. Killing them farm
ers and preppers goes in direct conflict to what we agreed on.”
“The governor’s council signed that treaty, not us,” Gus said, balling his hands into fists. “And you know that the Alliance was ready to turn it all over to Texas; give up everything we and Carson have worked for. We didn’t stay alive this long just to give it all away. You want to go back to begging for every one of your meals?”
Chris put his hands up. “Come on now, you know it ain’t like that, Gus.”
Gus held his expression. He was no fool, and the other men at the table knew he was a killer when push came to shove. Chris was already reeling back in his chair, showing regret at going too far. “Carson has made the tough decisions. He made the calls that the Council was afraid to. It ain’t a mystery why there’s no infected left in Pennsylvania. We know what we did, and just because they don’t talk about it, don’t mean the people don’t know it too.”
Clyde bit at his upper lip. “This isn’t Ohio or Pennsylvania. We’re outnumbered here and as soon as the folks figure it out, we’re going to be in trouble.”
Gus looked across the table, studying the men’s faces. “The train will be here in two days. Carson will be arriving with fresh troops and supplies. Once Crabtree is stood up and we take more places to the south, the people will see the good we can do. They’ll be fed, they’ll be safe, and they’ll be happy. We can give this land back to the people.”
“Burning camps and uprooting families isn’t going to make us many friends,” Clyde said.
Gus waved him off, having had enough of the discussion. He leaned back in his chair and opened the map book in front of him, flipping until he found a marked page. “The time for talking about it is over, boys. We’re committed down here and we’ll see it through.” Gus pushed the map book to the center of the table; an overlay of the valley was marked out with several lines and areas drawn over in pen. “Best we can tell, that Ranger is still out there beating his drum for Texas. Tomorrow, I want you to take them two new boys out and see if you can find them.”