by Rod Little
“Everything okay up there?” Shane asked his younger brother.
“Yeah. Nothing moving.”
“We've got enough food to last a few days here. We'll need to make a supply run tomorrow. No idea where. What's the closest store to this place?”
Sam picked up a can. “Peaches? Really?”
“Hey, beggars can't be whiners,” Shane scolded and pointed to some cases behind the bar. “We've got bottles of wine and beer, some top-shelf whiskey, a few soft drinks, but... only for emergencies – if we ever can't get to the water.”
Tina and Ken returned from the garden that spread next to the hotel. They had a basket of apples, a few greens and a couple carrots, which they plopped down on the table. Apple trees were abundant around the grounds, so they would probably never completely starve.
“These are all we could pick for now,” Ken reported. “There are other trees in the back, pears I think, but the fruit is too high. And the garden has some vegetables, I guess ripe enough to eat, or close enough to ripe ...considering.”
Shane poured Sam a glass of stream water. Parched, Sam gulped it down gratefully. He tried to avoid looking at Tina. He always felt guilty for things he'd never done; even guilt for his thoughts. Shane picked up on this and steered them back to the maps laid out on another table.
“So,” he said, “where do you suppose the nearest store might be? Fayetteville is seventeen miles east. But St. Marks is easier to get to.”
“That's almost forty miles,” said Ken.
“But it's a straight road. Easier, faster.”
“If it's not blocked,” Sam grumbled.
“Hey, which one is smaller?” Ken asked. “Smaller towns are better. Fewer people. I mean, fewer lizards. Fewer cocoons.”
“About the same. Both are small towns. Population maybe a thousand people in each. Before all this, anyway.”
“They won't have much.”
“A drugstore and grocery store, at least. That's all we need.”
Shane clapped his hands together.“We'll go tomorrow morning, early. Okay?”
“We need a new car,” said Sam. “The jeep isn't protected.”
“But it's got four-wheel drive. We'll need that here. It'll be muddy after the rain.”
“Okay for now, but let's keep our eyes open for a better vehicle. A van or a truck maybe.”
Shane wasn't giving up his precious jeep just yet, but he agreed to “keep his eyes open” for now.
They gathered together and ate a nice dinner of apples, carrots and canned peaches. They even splurged on one soda and one beer, split among them. The cat ate with them, content to have company again.
Several of the showers still operated with running water, even though they couldn't get the water heater working yet. Cold showers were better than no showers and were a welcomed extravagance; it felt nice to be clean again.
They wrapped themselves in plush robes from the hotel suites, and chose their rooms. Physically and emotionally drained, used up by the day, everyone welcomed the release of sleep. A bed for everyone tonight, so there would be no guard shift. It was decided that sleep was more important, to be fresh for the supply run the next day, so the guard tower sat empty from midnight to five.
That was a mistake.
Chapter 7
The Peak was a four-star resort with plush, king-size beds and over a hundred suites, complete with red carpeting and large panoramic windows. Except for Ken and Tina, each of them took a separate room. However, for safety they decided to stay close together on the second floor, the rooms closest to the stairs, instead of scattering around the nine-story hotel. This also put them at the front, closest to the watchtower.
A new thunderstorm swept in and pounded the outside world. The wind picked up speed; their flags might not survive the night. Rain battered the windowpanes. Their frames vibrated.
Sam nestled in his bed and listened to the storm. It felt good to be snuggled in, ensconced amid lots of amenities: two big pillows, and a pile of sheets and blankets on his body. Like a bird in a nest, he curled up and tucked in for the night.
He remembered Saturday mornings in the winter when he was about six or seven. Their house was always cold in winter, and he didn't want to get out of bed. Wearing his footies, he'd shuffle to the TV in the living room. He'd wrap blankets around his body and watch “Saturday morning cartoons.”
Sam also remembered when he was barely eight. He used to practice warming his dad's coffee with his fingertips. The first few times had been failures; he'd boiled the liquid and nearly shattered the cup. He had to pretend to have dropped it, but Mom wasn't angry. She was never angry. He missed her.
Many years of practice had taught him extreme control over his sparking ability. He had acquired a finesse to his art – because that's what he considered it: an art. By the age of fourteen, he was able to warm a cup of coffee with one finger just by shooting a tiny jolt of static shock into it. His art of sparking had become as natural as walking or riding a bike.
Now, in this new version of the world, he knew his sparking power would be needed. Was there any point to continue hiding it? Not anymore, he guessed. No more classmates remained to tease him for being different. I guess the end of the world has its perks, he thought wryly.
Shane also settled in for the night, but he slept on top of the covers. He didn't share the same nesting instinct that guided his brother. Instead, Shane liked to stay ready to charge and fight. This lodge was a tactical advantage to him, not a cozy home. He lay on the mattress and stared at the ceiling, his bow at the side of his bed. Twice he got up and looked out the window. The view from the second floor wasn't great, but he was able to watch the storm wail down on the Earth. Ironically, the storm made him feel safer, since it seemed unlikely anything could move through this tempest. Most people, friend or foe, would have to stay put tonight. And the creatures, too.
Ken and Tina cuddled together and slept like logs.
Jason paced for an hour and also watched the storm from his window. But eventually sleep took him, as well.
Sometime in the middle of the night, a howl broke through the rain. It was a terrifying screech, like a wounded animal. The storm continued without caring. The cry was distant, but Shane distinctly heard it. The cat joined him for awhile, curled up on the bed. It had heard it, too.
✽✽✽
They woke up much later than planned: a bit past 8:00 in the morning. The storm was over and only sparse traces of it remained. Everything outside was wet, but drying fast under the kiss of the yellow sun's warm rays.
Shane sat in the watchtower, as the others got up and ate their breakfast of dry cereal – no milk, and more apples. When the others had finally assembled in the cafe, he went back down to the lobby.
“Come on,” he said, “I want to show you something.”
They followed him to the front gate. Two of them opened the heavy doors again, and they followed him out onto the wet grass outside the gates.
“Look.” He pointed to a dark spot in the grass.
The dead creatures were gone. Only blood-stained grass and dirt remained, and the impressions their heavy bodies had made. A line of bent grass blades revealed they had been dragged away.
“Someone, or something took our friends here.”
“Why?” Ken asked.
“The meat,” Jason said with some authority. “To eat them. Food has gotta be getting scarce out there. That was a lot of beef they got hold of here. Maybe we should have kept 'em.”
“I'm not eating lizards,” Tina said. “I'm not.”
“You might,” Jason laughed. “People do strange things when they're hungry.”
Shane bent down to look at the tracks. He couldn't tell what had dragged the bodies away. “People or creatures. Not sure.”
“You think people are here?” Sam lowered his tone to a whisper. “That means they might be watching us right now.”
They studied the road, field and woods. The flowers swayed back an
d forth, tugged by the wind, but nothing else moved. It was a peaceful tapestry filled with color, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like they were on a beautiful deserted island surrounded by sharks.
“Okay, from now on, we have someone in the tower at all times,” Shane said. “It would have been helpful to know who dragged those things away.”
“Yeah,” said Jason. “Let's head out. Supply run, remember?”
Everyone agreed, but Sam lingered a moment and stared into the woods. He felt someone, or something, was watching them.
They geared up for the day's supply run. Tina and Ken stayed behind to guard the castle and to open and close the gate. Jason and the brothers took the jeep out on the road for Fayetteville, the closest town.
The jeep jostled and bumped over the wide dirt path before finding the paved road. Ken watched them disappear, and wondered why a hotel this fancy didn't have a paved road to the gate. Rustic appearance, or country atmosphere? He shrugged it off and wished the guys luck under his breath.
They entered the small town of Fayetteville with the jeep rolling at a slow crawl, their weapons drawn and eyes on every corner and shadow. They parked near the town center. There wasn't much to Fayetteville: a few houses and even fewer stores or merchants. A shed nearby advertised tools for rent, and a saw-sharpening service. Oddly, another sign on the shed advertised bike tours: motorbike tour $25. Probably for the tourists at the Peak who might wander here by accident.
“You suppose that $25 is per person, or per tour?” Sam asked. “I mean, could a family go out on bikes for that?”
Shane looked at his brother. “I don't know, dude. Why don't you hang around and look into that. I'm gonna check for supplies.”
Jason chuckled. “Look at those crappy bikes, the seats are all torn–”
“Hey!” Shane interrupted. “Let's focus. There's the drugstore. Let's check there first.”
Sam and Jason saluted and followed him into Jim's RX, the town's only pharmacy. Its door was easy to break open, as the lock was a hundred years old. The shelves hadn't yet been picked over, which meant that no one here got the “end of the world” memo. The boys scooped aspirin, bandages, and antibiotics into their bags.
“Look for anything that ends in -ayacin, or -cin.” Sam told them. “Those should be antibiotics. And try to find iodine for cuts.”
Some snack items hung on racks near the front: peanuts, chips and cakes. They snagged those, too.
“I'll take these bags to the jeep,” Shane said. “You guys keep rooting around for anything else we might need.”
Shane turned and started for the door. His hand started to push it open, then stopped. Through the window, he spotted a black and brown lizard casually walking in the middle of the road. It was chewing on something, and apparently unaware of them as yet. At seven feet, this was the biggest one they had seen so far.
“Guys!” he exclaimed in a low tone. “Guys, look.”
“Damn, they've got a lot of female drugs and stuff,” Jason commented, oblivious.
“Shut up!” Shane tried to get their attention without raising his voice above a whisper. He threw a roll of toilet paper at Jason, who instinctively caught it. “Look out there.”
“What?”
The lizard groaned and meandered across the street. It was foraging for food, rats, pigeons, anything.
“Oh... lovely...”
“Be quiet, you idiots.”
“We could shoot it from here,” Jason offered. “Easy shot.”
“But who knows what else we'll wake up! We shoot that one, and a hundred more come down on us?” They only had guns – the bow was back at the jeep.
“Wait for it to get further away,” Sam suggested. “It's heading up the road anyway.”
“We have to hit the grocery store, though. It's about a mile further down. We'll need to drive.”
“We start that jeep, it's gonna hear us.”
“Hey,” Sam snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Load up on cologne and perfume. There's a whole shelf of it. Fill up this bag.”
They sprayed themselves generously with men's cologne first, then loaded the rest of the bottles into a large knapsack. A bottle slipped out of Sam's hand and crashed on the ground. It shattered loudly and spun into a dozen pieces in all directions.
The boys froze, waiting to see if the sound had caught the lizard's attention. The air filled with the sickening sweet smell of cheap perfume. After a moment, they ventured a few steps, and the glass crunched under their sneakers like popcorn.
“Dammit,” Shane cursed. “Why don't you two ring the friggin' dinner bell?”
Sam shrugged apologetically. He tip-toed around the glass, and Jason followed him.
Outside, the giant lizard was gone, now completely out of sight. Where it had wandered, they could only guess, and hoped it had moved up the street to find food.
They left Jim's RX in a hurry and put their bags in the jeep. Sam gently placed the cologne and perfume bottles on the back seat, careful not to rattle them further. Any noise could attract predators.
But it didn't matter, anymore. They had been found.
Sam heard the cha-chink of a shotgun being cocked. He turned and faced a pistol and a shotgun barrel just a few feet from his head. Shane and Jason already had their hands up.
Two men in their thirties, large and burly, now trained guns on the boys. The men wore leather jackets, dew rags on their heads, and chains hanging from their pockets to their belts. Tattoos covered their arms and necks. They hadn't shaved in days.
“Welcome to Fayettville, boys,” the man with the pistol said, though it sounded more like Feet-ville. “You aimin' to steal from us?”
“No Sir. We're just getting supplies,” Sam explained. “From the pharmacy, that's all. We didn't take anything else.”
“Well, you see, son, that pharmacy belongs to us. Those things are ours. Matter of fact, this whole piss filled town is ours.”
The two men laughed. One of them whistled, and a truck came around the corner, revving its engine unnecessarily. It bore a large incongruous smiley face on the side, painted in yellow, and was driven by a man with a missing tooth. He pulled up to the group and spit a disgusting wad of tobacco through the window. Another man with sunglasses and a beard sat in the passenger seat and stared ahead.
“What you find, Mitch?”
“Couple of thieves.”
“Well, get to it then. Put 'em in the back.”
The boys steeled themselves to resist. Jason reach down for his gun, but the shotgun-man stopped him. He moved the barrel to within an inch of Jason's chest.
“No stupid moves, guys. Just do what you're told, and you won't get shot.”
“Not yet anyway,” Mitch said. All three men laughed. “Listen up, boys. Put your weapons on the ground. Now.”
The boys complied, dropping their pistols and bow.
“Now grab your stuff, that now belongs to us, and get in the back of the truck.”
Shane glared at the man, but Sam put a calming hand on his shoulder. He stepped onto the truck bed with his bags of supplies, and his brother followed. At first Jason looked like he would make a move against the armed men, but then he relaxed his muscles and jumped into the back of the smiley-face truck.
Mitch collected their weapons and threw them into the front seat. He snickered and made a comment about Jason's long hair.
“Who are you?” Sam asked.
“Me? I'm nobody,” the shotgun-man informed them. “Our people, well that's a diff'ren story. We been preparin' fo' this a long time. And we are called the Grinners.” He bowed slightly. “Nice tah meetchya.”
Doom preppers! Great! Sam sighed to himself. Crazies waiting for the world to end. Well, they got their wish.
Mitch laughed as he lit a filterless cigarette. “Doesn't make sense, does it? 'Cause we don't make people smile.” He leaned in and blew smoke in their faces. “But nothin' makes sense no more.”
The driver spat again, and
complained, “Let's go! Stop jabberin' with these pups.”
Mitch and the shotgun-man got into the back and kept their guns trained on their captives. The truck started up and did a U-turn with much more gas and fanfare than was needed. They skidded their tires and sped up the road.
Sam rubbed the palms of his hands together. He shared a look with the other two boys. Shane knew what Sam was thinking, and shook his head. Not now, you'll get one of us killed. After a tense moment, Sam backed down and leaned against the pickup's railing.
“I got a feeling we're not invited to dinner,” Jason said.
“No. I think we're screwed six ways to Sunday, as my Mom would day,” Shane said, for the moment resigned to his fate. “But stay frosty. We'll get our chance.”
“We should rush them now, before we get to their camp. Might be too many of them there.”
“Just wait. We're still outgunned here. Be cool.”
They headed toward the opposite end of town in a pick-up that lacked any semblance of shocks. Despite the ruckus, the lizard didn't reappear.
Chapter 8
The sight of only two more men at the campsite filled the boys with hope. They had feared they would meet a gang of ten or twenty. And then they heard the men talking about taking them to “the compound” that night, and they realized this was just a checkpoint.
“So how big is your compound?” Sam asked.
Mitch smacked Sam in the face, but it landed wrong. It was less of a punch, and more of a slap.
“Shut up, for the last damn time. Shut up, or I'll shut you up.” He put his gun right to Sam's temple.