by Brown, TW
As a bottle of something that felt like it was carving its way down her throat was passed around and the contents shared, there was singing and laughing. Vix almost forgot the entire reason for why she’d ventured away from home. Stories of a rising faction that apparently modeled itself after some twisted version of the already deplorable Nazi regime were almost forgotten.
As more drinking continued and stories from the past were shared, this began to feel more like an old night out at a local pub. Sure, she hadn’t been sitting around with an American, a few Irishmen and a Middle Eastern woman, but then, maybe she should have tried it. She kept finding herself laughing at one tale or another like the one Seamus was just finishing.
“…and there is Algernon in his birthday suit, running down the middle of the Westminster Bridge with a giant stuffed panda under one arm and one of those plastic Big Ben baubles that they used to sell to tourists, screaming at the top of his lungs the bloody Canadian National Anthem!”
A roar of laughter followed and even the edges of Randi’s lips curled slightly. Chaaya had long since passed out after having a good sick that smelled like rotten apples and something yeasty.
Vix sighed and wondered if these people would be able to help at all or if they had simply coaxed her into walking away from her people and leaving them to their fate. In her alcohol induced stupor, she could not recall anybody talking about this Dolph person and his little army.
A half dozen rabbits were roasting over the fire, and every so often, somebody would go over and tear off a piece and flop down to eat. She had to admit, after the past couple of days, they smelled very appealing.
“You gonna keep eyeing them bunnies, or are you gonna have yourself a leg?” a voice said from beside Vix.
She had to concentrate to see only one, but eventually she was able to focus and recognize Paddy. He was no longer dressed in the outlandish garb and was instead in a brown jerkin and trousers made of some sort of animal skin. He wore hobnailed boots and studded gloves with wicked spikes across the knuckles.
“Is this some sort of trick?” Vix slurred.
She was having a terrible time staying upright. She would think everything was fine, and then she would discover that she had leaned over to the point where her head had dipped below Paddy’s. She recognized it had gone to an extreme when she realized that she was actually on her side with her head in the little man’s lap. He was looking down at her with a smile on his face that was perhaps the warmest and most genuine that she had seen in a long time.
“You have a lot of pain bottled in your soul, lass,” the man said with amazing kindness and understanding. Vix briefly forgot that he was almost half her height…and Irish. “Maybe if you shared some of that, then some of the wounds can heal. Keeping all of that poison bottled inside is going to be the death of you.”
At first, Vix had no idea what on earth the man could be talking about. She even tried to sit up, but after the world began to spin faster and apparently tilt sideways, she decided that there were worse places in the world than lying on this log with her head in Paddy’s lap.
Then, the strangest thing began to happen. She started telling her story. She told of losing Ivor, her ill-fated plan to raid the museum display, and her up and down relationship with Gemma. She told about poor Harold and his terrible fate. Then she told of New England. Yet, as she shared that piece of the tale, she began to realize that she had isolated herself for the most part from the residents of the community. Sure, she helped those in need, but in all those years, she had not become close with one single soul.
She told of her discovery in regards to Gemma and how she finally thought that she was bringing the girl home. When she recounted how the girl had simply thrown herself into the water and vanished from sight, the tears flowed. It had been, in her eyes, her greatest failure.
At some point, Vix felt her eyes become heavy. She stopped being aware of her surroundings. She did not even notice that, at some point, Randi had taken one of her hands and was holding it, stroking it softly, patting it whenever Vix began to sob, unable to speak any longer as all the grief of more than a decade seeped from every pore.
Vix eventually drifted off to sleep and dreamed of a time before. She dreamed of coming home to her cats and her husband. She dreamed of trivia night at the local pub.
“Wake up, lass,” a voice whispered. “We have an army to stop.”
***
The threat proved mostly impotent. A small band of seventy, that had no idea the size of the community that they had picked a fight with, fell in short order. Chad missed out on it with a severely sprained ankle and an arrow wound in his thigh. He also ended up with six stitches in his chin.
Services were held for those who were lost the day of the attack. It was little consolation that not a single person was lost when they went out to deal with the potential threat. Even more anti-climactic, it was really only one of the five groups of forty riders that were sent to scout that happened upon the camp of the raiders.
The fight was over almost before it began. The few personal effects of some of the fallen found and serving as the final damning evidence that these were the ones. Four prisoners were brought back that day and questioned with a veracity that ensured they had given up every bit of information (confirming that they were indeed just this single small band). After the interrogation, they were taken to the square and executed.
Chad sat that out as well. It was not because he was against it, or had any reservations about such swift measures, he was simply not feeling well that day; most of his body was feeling the effects of his journey downstream.
As the spring yielded to summer, Chad watched Ronni truly start to show happiness and contentment. He and Caroline became closer friends and were able to admit that romance would never be a factor, but that their friendship was stronger than any they thought possible.
Chad was pulled from exterior patrol for the duration of his healing and rehabilitation. When winter came, it was the first that Chad could recall in a good long while where they were not even the slightest bit miserable or uncomfortable the entire season.
Once he healed, he was asked if he wanted to return to patrol duty with the mounted division. He was surprised that he had no such desire. During his rehab, he came to the conclusion that his biggest reason for wanting to be involved was because he did not feel that anybody else could keep his daughter safe.
When he was pronounced healthy, Chad was hit with the realization that everything was fine. Even more important, he and his daughter had begun to gel in a closer relationship. Going out was a needless endangerment. As it was, when he had first volunteered, he was the oldest on the roster by almost a decade.
Taking a job as a field worker, Chad found the work hard but rewarding. Not to mention that he was in his bed every night and able to enjoy evening meals with Ronni who had been given her own classroom of second graders to teach.
As the seasons once again passed, Chad began to hear about people going on honest-to-goodness vacations. The concept seemed absolutely foreign at first. When his supervisor called him over one day to tell him that he had accumulated a week’s worth, he had no idea what to say or do.
That evening, he sat down to dinner with Ronni and Caroline. He told them and was surprised when Ronni began to gush about some cabins she’d heard about from another of the teachers. Apparently they sat on a lake and that people from this community and a neighboring one had come together and built a sturdy wall.
After only a little convincing, Chad agreed that it might be fun. He could scarcely believe that he was willingly venturing outside the safety of the town walls. It was a simple act to arrange for him and Ronni to have the same period of time off.
There was even a package that was put together by the general store with all of the supplies they would need. They were even provided horses for the one day journey that had three armed checkpoints along the way for them to stop.
As he and Ronni rode out
of the gates, Chad could not help but be swept up in the surreal feeling of going on vacation in a zombie apocalypse. The day was bright and sunny. Perfect in every way. It took Chad almost an hour to get over the idea that it would all come crashing down at any moment. He simply could not wrap his mind around what was something far too normal in a world overrun by the undead and dotted with bands of raiders and outlaws.
They arrived at the gates to the cabin getaway a few hours before sunset and were greeted by an armed detachment at the main entrance. Letting his eyes scan the scene, he was amazed to discover that this location had a security detail that numbered higher than some of the communities he’d encountered over the years.
“Is this real?” he asked the woman who accepted his voucher that was issued when he and Ronni had left that morning and stamped at each of the checkpoints along the way.
“Between the two communities, we number close to five thousand now,” the woman said with a laugh. “This is actually a duty assignment for members of each communities’ army.”
“You gotta have seniority to draw it, though,” a man called from his station at the gate house. “Took me five years to get here.”
“Five?” another quipped. “I just hit my seventh year. One of the first enlistees at our camp. Who’d you blow to get this gig?”
“Who’d you piss off?” another crowed.
Chad and Ronni were directed to their cabin. The gates were closed at dusk, and the bell was rung at the dining hall signaling the evening meal. That evening, Chad sat across from his daughter, doing everything in his power to fight back the tears.
As they walked back to the cabin, Ronni put an arm around him and that was all he could take.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” his daughter asked, coming to an abrupt halt.
“I just never expected to be happy like this. Not before the whole zombie thing, and certainly not after.”
Ronni wrapped her arms around him and they stood there for a moment, hugging each other. Chad looked up, half expecting to see a shooting star. Instead, it was just the vast and twinkling expanse of a normal night time sky.
Everything seemed absolutely common. That scared him deeper than any herd of zombies or group of lawless raiders.
***
“I take it they know you,” Gable muttered. “Good. Maybe we can use this. You keep them busy. I will go around to the other side where your other friend is…Jan, right?” Jody nodded. “I will go around and see if she is making any progress. If not, I will give her a hand.”
Just like that, Gable Matczak turned and jogged away. Jody watched him slip around the corner of the RV and vanish. That made him think of the kids. He’d been so caught up in things that he had forgotten them. He stepped back, ignoring Margarita who was calling his name once more.
He reached the door of the RV he was beside and tried the handle. It opened and he could see a pair of legs. Dread filled him as he poked his head inside and took a look. He was actually relieved when he discovered that the four residents of this particular RV were simply bound and gagged. He gave a shushing motion with one finger and pulled the gag free from the closest person. The girl spat angrily and chomped her teeth a couple of times to get her jaw working right again.
She looked up at Jody and whispered, “Aren’t you Mister Rafe?”
“Yep.”
“I heard your name more than once while they were doing all of this…the jerks.”
“And I would love to hear about it, but I don’t have time.” Jody reached down and flicked his blade to sever the twine that bound her wrists. “You get the others in here free, but stay inside.”
“You gonna kill them?” the girl asked with a surprising lack of emotion or concern.
“Yep.”
“Good. And when you save Mister Pitts, I’m sure he will be really thankful.”
Jody had just stepped down from the RV and was about to close the door when he heard that last statement. He spun. “Pitts isn’t part of this?”
“Are you kidding?” The girl sounded equal parts incredulous and offended.
Jody shut the door and crept back to the corner of the RV. Margarita was still standing on the porch. She was looking his general direction, but Jody could tell that she didn’t know his exact location. Taking a step back into the shadows, he fought the urge to just charge in and kill this woman; and, if he was certain that George was the only other person inside, he might have actually considered that as a viable option.
“I figured you and your boyfriend would be long gone by now and causing havoc for some other community stupid enough to put up with your crap,” Jody called back.
“You never did get it. This is not about being nice or any of that other garbage that you were trying to push. If that community is going to survive, then we needed to make sure we were the meanest dog in the park.”
No,” Jody countered, “it was you two who did not get it. What is the point of trying to save humanity if we can’t act human?”
“Weak!” Margarita bellowed. “That has always been your problem. You are far too weak. You want the good life and want to raise your family behind the assumed protection of a few walls. The zombies have long gone by the way as being the problem. We need to be prepared for other communities—”
“And people like you!” Jody shouted, cutting Margarita off. “People who kidnap children, people who murder innocent women or beat them until they give the answers that you want to hear.”
“Always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Margarita replied with a sarcastic laugh. “And it was so easy for you to believe some stranger and her version of things.”
“There was a body in the fire pit!” Jody really did not feel like engaging in this circular argument again. He’d had quite enough during the trial.
George and Margarita had insisted that they were simply trying to get Jan to come clean about how her group had come to the tower with ill intent. That the women had been used as bait to draw out the men who were subsequently ambushed. The part of the story they wanted to ignore and gloss over was how the woman, Angel, had been basically abducted and used as a sex toy until she either slit her own throat (as was one side of the story) or had it slit for her.
During the trial, it was revealed that George was not only aware of this happening at a few of the towers, but had come out with Margarita a few times to engage in God knows what. The entire thing made him sick to his stomach. Part of him wanted to enact a much more final sentence regarding the dysfunctional duo, but the charter of the community was such that it was forbidden unless a unanimous verdict was reached; where only a majority would result in banishment.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jody shouted. “You have violated your banishment. That is grounds for execution, and now I don’t need a unanimous vote.”
“Good luck with that,” Margarita’s voice dripped venom. “We got more people in our pocket than you realize. Maybe even enough to get your ass tossed out…or executed. I don’t think we’ll need some silly unanimous decision.”
Jody was fuming at this point. He had no idea how much longer he could keep this up. Where the hell was this Gable person?
“Then how about we all just head back to town and let it get sorted there?”
“That is where you have lost the handle. There are other places, other communities. And a few of them have had their eyes on this little strip of land for a while. You just—”
Margarita’s tirade was cut short as she yelped and then started to scream. That scream was silenced almost immediately. Jody peeked around the corner to see Gable standing over a downed body. He had a curved sword that looked like something from a Sinbad movie in his hands. He was raising the weapon over his head, preparing to come down with a final strike.
Jody was reeling. What did she mean other communities? He had to know.
“Gable, no!” Jody yelled as the blade came down in a blur.
***
Entry Fifty-eight—
&nb
sp; I want to make this very clear. I take no pleasure in doing what I do. I certainly took none in this latest kill. I fear the day when that may change, but it is not today.
Yes, I caught the woman. No, her name was not actually Mary. Again, I will offer her the equal lack of courtesy that I give the men I normally hunt. I will not allow her real name to be used so that it can become some sort of legend or myth. That you think of her as “Mary” is already more than she deserves.
I do not know what happened in her mind that allowed her to tread this path. Honestly, I do not think I actually care. Am I curious? Sure. Just as I am sure that whoever reads this might be curious how I can live my life hunting the living and seeing to their extermination under less than humane conditions.
It felt like forever for that blasted barge to return. It did not help that I could have requested the attendant to wave the emergency flag to expedite its return, but I did not want to do anything that would give away that I was in pursuit of the previous rider. When, at last, enough people boarded on the other side so that the barge pushed away, I felt the butterflies begin to churn in my belly. As I rode my horse onto the barge and then waited for our own departure, those butterflies became eagles. By the time I set foot on the other shore, they were jet airliners.
I rode as hard as I dared, knowing that the woman might veer off of the main road at any point. Fortunately, there was enough residual moisture from earlier rains to allow me to see the perfect grooves that were cut into the muddy road by the wheels from the cart.
I lost them only for a short time at an intersection and had to climb down to actually crawl around and trace one groove with my finger until it was clear of the mess. As soon as I felt confident, I climbed back on the horse and rode all the harder.
At last, I was rewarded. I could see the cart ahead, the same figure seated on the bench that I recognized from being on the barge.