by Brown, TW
I guess that is why I was not surprised when I arrived at a small trading outpost as I made my way up into the lush forests that surround Mount Saint Helens. I made the decision to come here simply because I had never seen an active volcano before. This one has been blowing ash into the air for a few weeks and when I first saw it, I mistook the ash cloud for a nuclear warhead detonation.
The cloud rose way up into the sky and had that mushroom shape that you would usually associate with a bomb. Of course I initially turned away and intended to put as much distance between me and the cloud as I could. After all, I didn’t want to turn into a human glow-stick.
I came upon a small village and was corrected when the locals explained to me that it was “just the mountain blowing off some steam.” Once I heard that, I decided to go take a look for myself. It is not like I have anything else going on in my life.
I had come close enough that I was able to experience a few ground tremors. That made for something else that I could check off my bucket list. Sure, they were nothing like those earthquakes from the many times California tried to break away from the continent, but it was still sort of a thrill for me since I had never actually experienced a real, honest-to-God earthquake up until that point.
Later that day, I arrived at a small outpost beside a stunningly beautiful lake, and that is where I was greeted with a wake-up call. Call it fate, chance, or whatever you like, but it would figure that it had to be me arriving on the scene of a full-scale slaughter. There was one survivor, but he was so hacked up that I could only help him along to meet his maker.
Before I ended the man’s suffering, he did relate to me how this had happened. It started when a boy no older than fourteen showed up. He said that he had escaped this terrible gang of bandits. The people of this outpost brought him in and cleaned him up, fed the boy, and even invited him to stay if he wanted. They offered him a job helping with the gardens. So basically, these people were some of the good ones; the few and far between types that believe that there is something worth saving when it comes to humanity. Anyway, apparently the boy got up in the middle of the night and opened the security gate after slitting the throat of the guard. (You do remember the part where I told you about the kid being maybe fourteen?)
Anyways, this group of freaking KIDS stormed the place and hacked everybody up with axes and machetes and spiked clubs. Nice…huh.
It took me the better part of three hours to gather the bodies into a central location, spike the heads of the few that started waking up (which told me two things that I consider important: one was that some of these people had been Immunes; and two, that this had happened very recently), and then build a pyre to dispose of the bodies.
Yes, I could have simply gone on my way. After all, this didn’t have anything to do with me, right? And it wasn’t like I got hired to do a job and owed anybody. I guess that is why I felt the need to stop here and try to figure out who had done this if possible.
I have done over a hundred hired jobs since I started offering my services. I am always paid handsomely. I think there was a part of me that started to feel guilty about how I made my living. After all, people hire me when something terrible has happened. They expect me to find the perpetrator or perpetrators and execute them. Sure, there are a lot of ways I could try to make that sound better…nicer. But why should I try to pretend? Haven’t we come to a point where that is no longer needed? I think we should all just be content with whom and what we are and not try to be something else. Certainly most of those I hunt have adopted that ideology.
I went back to that little village that educated me about the cloud belonging to a mountain. When I related what I discovered, you could have heard a pin drop…if anybody would have had one handy.
“The New Aryans,” one of the men finally said.
Great. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are eliminated from the face of the earth, but racism manages to survive. If the reports I have are true, this group is made up mostly of late teens and early twenty-something kids. Apparently they have an older man as the leader, but nobody can actually tell me anything about him. He stays in the shadows, slips into communities and poaches some of the disgruntled youngsters. A little programming and viola, he has a shiny, brand new racist.
Entry Two—
This is not a hired gig. I repeat, this is NOT a hired gig. The good people of that village were very happy to hear that I was going after this Aryan gang, and they even offered to send a few of their people with me. If they thought that I didn’t catch the look of relief on their faces when I said no, then it is good that I did refuse, because they aren’t very perceptive.
I was told that there is an old observatory where these punks supposedly call home. Seems like a pretty straight up deal. My only issue will come when I can get a real assessment of their numbers. Five or ten would be no problem. Humans are lazy and sloppy by nature. I would have half of them dead within the first few hours I found them. After that, it would be a matter of staying out of sight until they fell back into their old routine after the initial excitement wore off.
Once you are talking about groups of twenty or more, the tactics change dramatically. Oh well, at least I will still get to check out this volcano up close. This observatory apparently faces the open crater of Saint Helens; basically looking right into the throat of the thing. I am just to the east and will be moving behind a long ridge until I reach what the people of the village assure me is an easy location with which to spot the set of buildings that sit up on the top of the ridge.
That is where things will be a bit dicey. This compound is supposedly on top of a long narrow hill with a flat top. By all descriptions, the place is in a wide open clearing and is basically impossible to sneak up on. In my experience, that is never quite true. For one, it isn’t like they have spotlights scanning the area. The world is a much darker place without electricity.
I should know. I have been down near what used to be Las Vegas where there is an actual community with honest-to-God hydro-electric power. Of course that place is the zombie apocalypse equivalent of North Korea. The region is ruled by a ruthless warlord and nobody gets in that area around the Hoover Dam without being allowed in, but that was a few years ago. I have no idea if it is still in existence, but I am daydreaming.
I have at least a five day hike to reach the place where these New Aryan types live. One good thing about this region, I don’t have to worry about food or water. I don’t think people felt comfortable drinking directly from these rivers and streams back in the Old World, but these days it is not really a problem. That said, I won’t lack water for sure. In addition, there are plenty of edible plants and berries to be had, and then there is the fish. The salmon can be so plentiful at the right times of year when they are spawning that you can actually reach in and scoop one out of the water by hand.
I think they used to have a name for this…what I am doing. I think it was once called a working vacation.
Entry Three—
I almost forgot why I was out here; at least until this afternoon. I was moving along at a fairly leisurely pace, staying parallel to the trade route. The scenery can really become so amazing that you forget everything. I am considering the possibility of making this area my choice for retirement.
I was perched on a boulder that looked out over a large open meadow. There were three deer grazing. Hmm…is it deer or deers? Okay, so there I was, just watching out over the meadow and nibbling a handful of berries, communing with nature and all that crap.
It happened so fast that I think I actually popped another berry into my mouth like I was watching a movie or something. Two of the deer dropped, each had a few arrows jutting from them that made the location in which they fell an easy thing to spot with the shafts poking just above the grass. That other deer hauled ass, bounding away gracefully. A moment later, these two figures emerged from the trees almost directly across from where I am sitting and watching.
They flipped back their hoods
and I could see one was a boy, the other a girl. They were pretty young; perhaps early teens. I am not a believer in coincidence.
Pulling my tomahawk from my shoulder, I dropped down and circled the pair. They went on like they didn’t have a care in the world. I made up my mind what my course of action would be before I’d even swallowed that mouthful of berries, so I didn’t really feel anything when I popped up just a few steps away from them just as they had finished field stripping that first deer. (In other words, I crept forward very slowly.)
I brought the ‘hawk down on the back of the boy’s head, splitting it open and ending him in one stroke. The girl did not react like I expected. Shame on me. I figured she would scream or maybe try to plead. Instead, she whipped the knife she was using to gut the second deer at me. I’ll be damned if that thing didn’t catch me right in the center of my chest. Had it not been for my studded jerkin, it might’ve actually done some damage.
So, long story short, I punched her in the face and knocked her out cold. I have pulled back to an old abandoned shack of a cabin. The place looks like a gentle breeze might blow it over. Nothing a little hard work shouldn’t be able to fix.
As for the girl, I dragged in a log that was about five feet long and secured her to it nice and tight. I am pretty sure she is barely out of her teens, but she has perhaps the foulest mouth I have heard on a person in quite some time; and considering some of the circles I have traveled in, that is impressive.
She has made repeated threats about what she plans to do with a very specific part of my anatomy when she gets free. I actually had to go over and make sure that she was tied up nice considering how confident she sounds in regards to separating my reproductive organs from the rest of my body and nailing it to my face so that I can truly be, and I am quoting here, “A bloody dickhead.”
When she is not cursing or making threats, she actually looks like a normal girl. She has dirty brown hair that is a mess of nasty dreadlocks, she has brown eyes and even a few freckles splattered across her nose. She has not told me her name yet, and that is not a question I care if she ever answers. When I asked her about the murders at that trading outpost, she just smiled and winked.
To my credit, I have given her twenty-four hours to answer my questions of her own free will. After that, I told her that I would be getting those answers, and that she would not like the manner in which they were obtained. Her reply: “Oooo…big scary man, you think you can scare me? What…you gonna try and shove that pencil dick of yours in my ass or something? If you think I’m afraid of you or that you can do anything that would get me to talk…well, then you are as stupid as you look.”
I have not, nor would I ever take sexual liberties with anybody, so that flippant retort did not bother me as much as hearing her say something like that. I mean, where would she even get the idea that such a thing was on the table. Granted, what I have in mind is perhaps equally as bad since it involves inflicting tremendous amounts of pain.
I let her rant on as I sat quietly and sharpened my collection of knives. Eventually she stopped talking. I looked up just once and saw her watching me. She did not have even the slightest trace of fear in her expression.
I’m not sure if she is brave…or stupid.
2
The Geek’s Wife Has a Plan
“This is stupid,” Mario whispered.
“Just do what you are told and everything will be fine,” Catie replied with a wink.
Catie glanced at Marty and Melvin; or, as she now referred to them: the Wonder Twins. The two men were decked out in full battle gear including riot helmets and flak jackets. They looked like a nasty boss monster at the end of a video game level.
“Do you really think this will work?” Braden asked with absolute sincerity.
“We need to convince the people that the idea is a good one. My just telling them it is so will not carry much weight,” Catie explained.
“And you really believe that having us in the crowd mumbling that what you are saying is a good idea will make a difference?” Louis pressed.
The looks on the faces of all four of the young men known as the Beastie Boys showed open skepticism. Catie had to admit that her idea was a bit on the sketchy side. What she was asking them to do was simple. When she spoke, they were supposed to voice agreement with her to those around them. If she could spread the idea that her plan was solid, then she would have her foot in the door of winning these people over.
“Now, as for you two, find the children. Kalisha and Caleb were at the library last anybody knew. And you guys say you took Elliott down when he left the library, right?” Catie turned back to Marty and Melvin.
“Yeah, and he was alone. We took him quick and then hid the body so that nobody would find it,” Marty replied.
“And I want Denise released, so find the kids and get her out of wherever they locked her away.” Catie’s hand drifted to her belly as she felt the life inside her stirring ever so slightly. “Everybody meet me at the housing quarters…the old Marriott?”
With that, everybody went off to attend to their tasks. The Beastie Boys would be responsible for getting the community to gather so that Catie could speak to them all and get things started. She was still at war with herself as to the course of action that she was about to undertake, but feeling the life within her start to move, things had suddenly become clear when it came to her priorities. She would make a safe place for her child no matter what. Her child would have the chance to grow up in the safest possible environment that she could manage to arrange. That did not include living as a second class citizen.
Looking around, Catie saw potential. With herds numbering in the hundreds of thousands if not millions, the early ideas of barricades and moats were now becoming obsolete. Even the idea of using noisemakers would prove problematic. The noise generated to be enough to distract a mob that could often be heard when they were still a day or more away would need to rival Sammy Hagar’s proverbial fifty thousand watts of power in order to be loud enough for the zombies to be pulled off course. Sure, such measures were still useful against the smaller herds that only numbered in the thousands, but some of the super-cell mobs were simply too big. The only hope (besides running for your life and leaving everything behind) was concrete and steel like you found in the downtown regions.
Sure, one of those super-cells might never pass through, but being pregnant had turned her into a bit of a conservative fuddy-duddy. For some reason, her mind always landed on the worst case scenario and refused to come off it. If she was going to take charge in this place, and she was now certain that she would certainly give it her best shot, then there would need to be some changes. This place was ill-prepared to do anything other than withstand a siege; and, if the right forces came against them, even that would likely end in disaster.
Now that she was certain of her long-term goals, it was time to devise some shorter ones. She needed to get these people in some semblance of fighting shape. The best thing for that was to give them a fight that they had at least a moderate chance of winning. They would have to confront Dean and the people of Montague Village. Certainly she would avoid a fight if that were possible, but she did not believe that to be the case.
Also, certain things had come to light recently and she was still trying to process them fully. She was playing things on an assumption. Part of her plan would involve feeding the wrong sorts of information to the right people. If she was being honest with herself, she hoped that she was actually right in that regard, if she was wrong, this would end in total disaster.
***
“So, if I came to you and said that I wanted you to gather my food, keep watch outside my door, and deal with anybody that might wish me harm without offering you anything in return, would you be okay with that?” Catie asked the crowd.
There were confused faces mixed in with the angry and the apathetic. It was that last group she needed to target. The people who had simply fallen into the wake up-eat-stare out at the w
orld through their window-eat-sleep-repeat crowd was the biggest problem here.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Catie finally said. “That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” That was more of a statement, not really a question; although a few people at least made a small showing of shaking their heads in the negative.
She winced inwardly at the idea that she barely had to raise her voice to be heard. These people were so severely cowed that there had been almost no reaction to the news that Elliott was dead. Almost was the key word here. So far, nobody could locate Kalisha or Caleb and that had many speculating as to their possible fate. The potential of what they must be thinking of her at the moment made her heart hurt.
“Yet many of you have been doing something just as bad.” Her gaze hardened and she started making eye contact with as many in the crowd as possible. “You have let a handful of people go out and do all the hard work when it comes to the safety and security of this community while you stay safe and sound, locked away in your little ivory tower here.”
“Maybe you ain’t seen the inside of enough of the rooms,” somebody quipped. “This place is a dump!”
Now I have you, Catie thought before continuing.
“And whose fault is that? You people stay inside, some of you have not set foot on the ground level in months if what I have been told is true.”
Her time with Abagail Jones had been worth every second. In addition to meeting somebody that she actually and honestly liked, Catie had gleaned a plethora of information about the goings on here in this little community. The elderly woman had spilled the beans on practically everybody and everything that had taken place within the view of her window these past several years.
“We can stand together if we are all willing to do our part,” Catie said, trying to sound as optimistic as possible which was actually somewhat of a contrast to how she truly felt. These people were soft and lazy for the most part.