Inside the pit, animal carcasses were mixed in among the decaying corpses of the undead. Some still twitched, their ravaged bodies too mangled to propel themselves out of the hole. His stomach grumbled at the intoxicating smells. He lowered his body to a crouch and inched forward, wary of a trap. He smelled nothing living but man and anything made by man made him cautious.
Invisible in the grass, he inched forward to the edge of the pit. The smell of the pigs was strong in the pit but none were feeding in it at the moment. The men only let them in at night so the towns’ people couldn’t see. He eased over the edge, ignored the flies that buzzed his eyes and feasted on his wounds, grabbed the small corpse of a zombie child and drug it back to the woods.
He settled down and began stripping the corpse or rancid meat. He would wait. He would watch. The wolf girl would hunt. It was her nature. The walls that kept him out wouldn’t keep her in. He had no concept of time or schedules, just the genetic memory of his kind. Patience and cunning would put her in his jaws. He had plenty of food. He could smell water on the breeze. He needed nothing more. Sooner or later, she would hunt and he would be ready.
11
Kassie
Kassie tucked her dog under one arm and hurried down the next ladder some quarter mile away then cut through the middle of town to get back home. She burst through the door and was yelling for her mom when she drew up short. The mayor and his man were already there, talking to Linda in the kitchen.
“What is it honey?” her mom asked a little alarmed, the coffee pot stopped in mid pour.
Kassie slid to a stop and was at a loss for words.
“Oh, I bet she’s excited about the animals that came in this morning, aren’t you?” The mayor said smoothly and gave his cup a little shake so she would finish pouring. “I was just telling your mother she needs to give them a check up and see what she can do about one of them that’s injured. I saw you at the front gate but you need to stay away from them, you hear? They need to be quarantined, who knows what kind of diseases they’re carrying.”
“The poor things.” He added as an afterthought.
Kassie stood rooted to the floor and all eyes were on her. Linda knew something else was bothering her, spending six months confined in a tiny little cabin had attuned them to each other, she could read her daughter like an open book.
“You can tell me all about it later, you need to get ready for school.” Her mom said and gave her that look, the one with the narrowed eyes and the set to her lips that meant and don’t give me any backtalk. “Hurry up, off you go.”
Five minutes later, as soon as she heard the door close, she rushed back down the stairs. It only took her a minute to tell what she’d overheard and Linda’s face went from angry to thunderous.
“I knew that oily snake was up to something.” She said with contempt. “He actually had the gall to threaten me when I told him what he was asking me to do just wasn’t right. He was subtle, or at least he thought he was, but he made it clear that his men controlled the gates and the supplies and the food. Nobody gets in or out without his say so.”
“You mean like we’re in jail?” Kassie asked.
“Yeah, something like that. A big, open one but if you can’t come and go as you please, it might as well be.” She fumed.
In an indirect, ham-fisted way, the mayor had let her know she would do what she was told and she wouldn’t be leaving. He thought he was being sly when he asked after her daughter. When he brought Kassie into the conversation. It clicked for her then. Instantly and clearly and she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. He was sitting at her table, drinking her coffee and smiling like they were old friends. He had just threatened them and took it for granted she would play along because she had no choice. The goon with the gun had casually dropped his hand to it as he lit a cigarette, the one she’d said she’d preferred he didn’t when he asked if she minded. The angry retort on the edge of her tongue was swallowed and she knew this wasn’t a fight she could win, not here in her kitchen. She smiled and said of course, Mr. Moretz. If you think that’s best for the town.
“He said the kids weren’t going to be allowed out and I was to report that they had a disease. Like measles or something worse, something really bad he said. I was wondering why he didn’t want them mingling in town. He’s going to say they’re contagious and everyone will be glad when they’re gone.”
“That makes sense.” Kassie said as she watched her mom pace the kitchen. “If they’re never heard from again, everyone will think they died out there.”
“That’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.” Linda said then stopped her pacing, stared out the window over the sink.
They had a pretty good life here in Gallatin. They had a strong wall to keep out the undead, a roof over their heads and plenty of food to eat. She had meaningful work and Kassie was growing up in a safe place with school and kids her own age to play with. Things were changing, though. She’d never really stopped to consider how different life was now compared to a few months ago when they first arrived. Like everyone else, she rolled with the changes. It was a new world, the old one was dead. Things were done differently. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized everything had been incrementally getting worse. The new mayor had replaced all the old towns’ guards with his own men. They were outsiders, retrievers and nomads, some of them looked like they may have been bandits or raiders. Little by little they had taken over and even though people complained, they complied. He didn’t make big changes all at once, he made small ones that seemed reasonable. He’d locked up the hi-powered ham radio that could talk to most of the settlements. Somebody might be in league with the Raiders he’d said. They might give away our weaknesses, you don’t want those cannibals attacking us, do you? He had reasoned.
He’d taken away everyone’s guns and kept them in the courthouse basement for safe keeping. You don’t need them inside the walls. We don’t want any of our children getting ahold of one, do we? He’d done away with restocking the store shelves, now they had community meals. A lot less waste that way he’d declared. She was one of the few who was allowed to have food because she kept odd hours with her medical duties. He was trying to get rid of money but people were complaining about that more than they had about turning in their guns. Everyone worked and everyone got free housing, food and medical care he’d argued. We can do away with it among ourselves, the town will provide.
She’d treated quite a few truck drivers and retrievers, it seemed like they were always getting themselves banged up. Even they had commented on the changes and they hadn’t been complimentary. Those men and women went to all the settlements, the good and the bad, the old and the new. They delivered goods and spent time in the different towns. From the wild and barely tamed to the ones that were as normal as any place before the fall. If the subject of Gallatin came up, they all said it was getting worse.
“It’s that new mayor y’all elected. He’s running the place into the ground.” was the general consensus.
Except the town hadn’t elected him. He’d been an advisor and when the previous mayor died in the accident, he’d stepped in and taken over.
Linda made up her mind, turned to face her daughter.
“This could get risky.” She said. “I want to help those kids; I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore. If I do, we’re in this together. We’re going to have to leave, it won’t be safe for us here. Are you okay with that?”
This wasn’t a mother daughter conversation. This was two friends, two survivors considering doing something that might be dangerous. This was all or nothing. If Moretz could wipe out a tribe of kids just for their animals pelts he would have no problem doing the same to them and Linda wanted out before it got worse.
“I’m in.” Kassie said. “All the way.”
“All the way.” Linda agreed.
12
Whiskey and Rye
The tall man in the cowboy boots tossed back the rest of the wh
iskey in his glass and pushed the plate away. The steak and egg breakfast had hit the spot. He’d come in late last night, got a room upstairs and had been catching up on some much-needed sleep. The Dead Mule Tavern was busier than he expected this early in the morning, it was shift change for the guards. He could usually count on Ed, the bartender, to provide him with a lead on a job but lately it seemed like nobody in Gallatin wanted to pay in gold. Everybody wanted to barter and he traveled light. He didn’t have any use for somebody else’s junk.
The bar was abuzz with the news of a group of strange children and a bunch of zoo animals that were being held in the stockyards. He’d heard the stories on Radio Lakota but like everyone else with half a brain he’d dismissed them as tall tales. That buffoon Bastille had every retriever or half-crazy wanderer he could drag away from the pub that claimed to have seen them on his show. Most of them sounded like they were three sheets to the wind and their stories sounded like something you would hear from a drunk bellowing at the end of the bar. Some claimed they had a herd of elephants pulling a caravan of looted gold from Fort Knox. Two shot Tim, who got his name from what he always ordered when drinking, not any particular gun skill he had, said he saw a girl riding a giraffe. It was ridiculous, same as the stories of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. The people ate it up, though. The CB and the phones were always clogged with people calling in whenever he had someone on that claimed to have seen them.
Gallatin was a stopover for him, a place with a high wall, a well-stocked tavern and a comfortable bed. He’d been out in the wild for weeks and had just finished up a retrieval for a customer. This one had been rough. It had taken forever and the deaders kept showing up. A kid named Carl down in Lakota needed some very specific parts for some old train cars he was restoring. He had given him a list, it even had pictures of the items. He wanted to offer customers safe and comfortable day trips in armored antique dining cars. There seemed to be a demand for it, people wanted to get out from behind the walls for a little while, they just didn’t want to risk being eaten by zombies. The kid had come up with a way to separate them from their gold, good for him. He contemplated a train robbery, a grand one like the wild, wild west just for the thrill of it but he didn’t figure the boy kept the gold on the train.
His Jeep was loaded down with all manner of fancy chrome fittings, unique hand carved fixtures and little tiffany lamps he’d gotten from the railroad museum in Sioux City. He’d managed to not break any of the antiques, not get bitten and was finally headed south to collect his pay. If he would have known it would be so much trouble, he would have charged double. Another night dozing in the driver’s seat held little appeal, he was getting too old for that nonsense. The sleeping area in his rig was chock full of parts and he didn’t sleep very well in some abandoned house. His dog may or may not give him enough warning if a horde of deaders came stumbling by. Gallatin was a little out of his way but a real bed, real food and the security of the high walls made the trip worth it.
He’d been here a lot and used to get some decent retrievals. It was a typical midwestern walled city, they all had their own personalities and this one had a reputation of being a little rough. Decent people but a bar brawl on Saturday night was more common than a Sunday social after church. It seemed a lot more laid back this time, though. When he pulled in last night, the town had already rolled up the sidewalks, there wasn’t anyone around like there usually was. It was a cattle town that had survived the winter and the people were working together to build something from the ashes. The town had a real shot at becoming something. They had expanded their offerings to include sheep, hogs and a little buffalo to compete with Tombstone, the other cow town out west. Some of them had been trying to get the shuttered textile mill back up and running, they saw a need for clothes in the future. The supplies from Wal-Mart wouldn’t last forever.
The town had changed since the new mayor took over. It was hard to put his finger on what was different, exactly, but everyone seemed beaten down. Like they’d given up and were just going through the motions. They were surviving, not thriving.
None of my business he thought and laid a piece of Lakota gold on the bar. He signaled the bartender for a refill. The newly minted coin would pay for his room, breakfast, keep his glass full and would still leave a nice tip.
“One for the road.” He said. “I’m going to check out those kids with my own two eyes then with a little luck I’ll get to Lakota before Pretty Boy Floyd’s shuts down the kitchen. I’ll get some real food then, not this slop. Miss Pam makes the best Shepard’s Pie in any of the settlements.”
Ed grunted and made the gold disappear.
“You cleaned your plate though, didn’t you? Surprised you didn’t lick it clean like that flea-bitten mutt of yours does.”
Rye’s insults didn’t bother him, they’d been friends for six months, a long time in this new world. He only cooked steak or pork chops. If it couldn’t be made on the grill, he didn’t serve it and if you didn’t like it you could go somewhere else.
“Reckon we’ll hear you making a fool of yourself on the radio tonight, then.” The bartender said. “If ol’ Bastille finds out you seen them for reals, up close and personal, he’ll be blasting it out all over the territories.”
“Not unless he’s got a bottle of Angels Envy Rye hidden away.” The cowboy said and knocked back the two fingers of amber liquid in his glass.
He made a face.
“Lord, I think paint thinner is better than the rotgut you pass off as whiskey.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, smiled at the finger Ed was giving him and stood.
“Where they keeping those kids, anyway?” he asked.
“That ain’t none of your business, buddy.” One of the guards said then took a pull on his beer. “The mayor said they was in quarantine. That means you can’t go gawping at them. It’d be best for you to hurry your ass up and get on down the road.”
“He ain’t the mayor of me, boy.” Rye said “And it’d be best if you minded your business before you lose a few teeth.”
The man pushed away from the bar in anger, dropped his hand to his gun but Rye’s was already there and he had a small smile on his lips.
The guard’s eyes showed surprise. Nobody was supposed to be armed, just them, just the mayor’s security force.
And retrievers, he remembered a little too late, his mind dulled by a long night walking the wall and the half dozen beers he’d slammed down. None of those hard heads would give up their guns and the mayor had said it was okay. Some of the things they brought in were critical and besides, they paid in gold. He’d had to make an exception for them otherwise they wouldn’t deliver.
The bartender watched keenly. He knew what was coming and didn’t relish the thought of his place being splattered with blood when the retriever unleashed hell. He pulled the double barrel shotgun he kept handy and laid it down heavily on the bar to grab their attention then cocked both hammers to make sure he kept it. The metal on metal click was loud in the sudden hush. Everybody stared at the coach gun. Rye stared at the man, watched his hands for a flicker of movement.
“Now fellas,” Ed said almost conversationally. “That gentleman in the cowboy hat goes by the name of Rye. He’s got something of a reputation and if you are gonna dust up with him, I’d prefer you do it outside. Blood is mighty hard to get out of my hard wood floors.”
At the mention of Rye’s name, the loudmouth turned to look at him. He didn’t look like much. A tall man with a weathered face. He was lanky and he knew him and his buddies could take him, put an ass whooping on him, but he wasn’t so sure about his chances if guns came out of holsters. Yeah, they’d probably shoot him down but it would be after the cowboy had put a few new bullet holes in his gut. He’d heard of him, heard about some of the things he’d done. Rumor had it that he’d walked into a Raiders camp and killed them all. Twenty of Casey’s toughest.
Probably a load of crap.
There had
probably only been one or two.
The captives he’d freed were probably lying.
Probably.
He noticed some of his buddies that had stood up when the argument began were easing out of the line of fire and he started to feel very alone.
“Ain’t worth my time.” He finally said and grabbed his beer off the counter then sauntered over to the pool table. Cool and casual. He wasn’t afraid, not at all.
Rye winked at the barman and strolled out to the sidewalk. If they were keeping the kids in the stockyards, he’d find them easy enough.
13
Swan
Swan had walked every inch of the walls looking for a way out. She’d checked and rechecked both doors but they were chained shut. There wasn’t a weakness she could find. Not yet anyway. She looked up at the windows. She could climb up on Bert and pry the wire loose but it was a long drop on the other side. Besides, the guy with the gun would hear it.
She was nervous and on edge. She could feel the walls starting to close in. She hadn’t talked about what happened to her at Smith’s Landing. She’d never confided to any of the tribe how it had felt to be all alone in the midst of their enemies and knowing you were going to die. She blocked it out when the memories tried to resurface. She was a survivor. She was a killer of men. She’d gotten out of that and she’d get out of this. Gallatin wasn’t nearly as bad as Smith’s Landing. At least they weren’t trying to kill them here, just keep them in a prison. The rational part of her could understand their reasoning but the animal in her wanted out, couldn’t stand being penned in. Her gentle nature from before the outbreak had been pushed aside and replaced with a warrior’s spirit. All of them had become something they weren’t a year ago, all of them had learned to be savage.
The Feral Children | Book 3 | Nomads Page 8