Born in the Apocalypse 2: State of Ruin

by Joseph Talluto

  “That must have helped.”

  “Young lady, a lot of people don’t think about anyone but themselves. I’m a soldier. My job’s about everyone but me.”

  Claire nodded, slowly, then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Are you ever going to leave me alone?”

  Idaho snorted, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. At Claire’s shoulder, Blue offered a snort in reply.

  “You know what else?” Idaho said, steamrolling right over what she’d asked. “Some people think your animals are a health risk.”

  “I don’t need to hear it,” Claire said. “There’s never been a case of a horse being infected. Or a dog, or a bird, or anything else. The bugs don’t work inside animals.”

  “Lots of stories, though.”

  “If I believed everything I heard, I wouldn’t allow you within fifty yards of me or this field,” Claire said. She hadn’t intended to flare up like that, but she wasn’t about to hear any baseless rumors about her horses.

  Idaho looked taken aback. His countenance darkened and he said, “Lots of stories, kid. And people who aren’t so willing to gamble with their lives on these dumb things.”

  Claire steeled her expression and said nothing. If it weren’t for the terrible consequence, she would have already sicced Rocket on him. He didn’t know just how loyal her kids were.

  Idaho shrugged. “Just wanted to let you know. I think you do good work. Thought you ought to know some of us still appreciate you.”

  As if she were some pariah in the community. Claire wasn’t about to let any of this jerkoff’s implications take root in her mind. She turned her back to him and began checking Rocket’s eyes and teeth.

  She had the feeling that Idaho was retreating when she heard him call, “Hey, Dozens!” Shit. Hell of a time for Andre to show up.

  “What’re you doing in there, Johnny?” Andre called back. Claire heard him clamber over the fence. The horses didn’t react to Andre’s approach. “Hasn’t Claire told you these beasts will bite your dick off?”

  Andre stepped into Claire’s view, patting Rocket’s head. “KP?” Claire asked.

  “K is for carrot,” Andre said with a smile. He emptied the pockets of his fatigues. Luckily, he knew how to hold out offerings for the horses to take, otherwise Rocket’s lunging bite would have snapped off a few fingers.

  “What’s that you’ve got there?” Idaho asked. He didn’t step any closer, though.

  “Relax, Idaho, this is what they threw out from the mess tent. Unfit for human consumption.” Andre winked at Claire.

  “Probably tastes better than what I had for breakfast,” Idaho retorted.

  “Don’t let Potter hear you say that,” Andre replied. “You know they’re going to name the mulch-wich after him.”

  Claire watched as Andre fed the other horses. As unkempt as their manes looked today, none held a candle to Andre’s afro. General Potter was strict as they came, but he’d taken a liking to Andre, as most did, and had let him keep his hair. Idaho had a regulation cut and razor burn all over his chin and neck. Kept you from being snatched by the hair, they said. Kept your sights clear. Less chance of picking up lice. But Andre was an unapologetic individual, something he’d passed that on to Claire.

  Natural that someone like Johnny Idaho would resent that, and Claire knew he did, but Idaho was always tagging along after Andre like some lost puppy. Maybe he was hoping some of that goodwill would rub off on him. In truth, Claire pitied Johnny. She wished he could see that. Maybe then he’d leave her alone. Then again…he had a short fuse. Perhaps it was better just to hold him at arm’s length where she could keep an eye on him.

  General Potter, for his part, figured anyone assigned to an isolated encampment like this one was capable of handling their own problems. Andre had approached him once about guys giving Claire a hard time – not that she’d asked – but Potter wasn’t hearing any of it. For a general to be running the show out here, there had to be much bigger fish to fry. It was about the old power station on the mountainside. That was why the Field had been established here.

  As Claire turned these thoughts over in her head, she and Andre made small talk. She knew Idaho was still loitering somewhere behind them. He’d get the message. Probably.

  #

  Once he had, Claire relaxed and Andre told her about the goings-on around the Field. “Couple of guys from the Church with a capital C came by the gate this morning,” he said. “A botar and a feder. Wanted to set up a tent show inside the wall.”

  “Missionaries must be going out of their way to witness here,” Claire said. She batted at a fly that was doing aerial stunts around Rocket’s face. Rather than flee, it set about bothering her. She tossed her shoulder-length hair from side to side until the insect was gone.

  “You look more and more like your kids every day,” Andre said. “No offense.”

  “None taken, shrub.”

  Andre let out a hearty laugh that startled the horses grazing at the other end of the field. “You talking about my hair? This fro is a historical landmark.”

  “It’s starting to look its age,” Claire said with a wry smile. “You can really see the gray when the sun’s just overhead.”

  “Well, now I’m depressed.” Andre shoved his hands into his pockets in mock reproach. “You cut deep, Clarissa.”

  He scratched at the stubble beneath his nose and said, “Yeah, we’re well off the beaten path for feders. But I’ll bet they prefer it that way. People tend to be more on edge out in the middle of nowhere. More open to…‘answers.’”

  “So what happened? Were they turned away?”

  “Eventually. Potter talked to them for a bit, but you know he wasn’t about to let them in.”

  Claire shrugged. “Would it have been so bad?”

  “I hear that once the Church gets a foot in,” Andre said, “they start wanting to be involved in strategy and then economy. It’s less about guiding specific people than ‘the people’ altogether.” He made finger quotes as he spoke, and Claire nodded.

  Andre went on. “Besides, the way they tell it, God’s already everywhere. You want to talk to Him, talk to Him.”

  He set about beating the dust from his pants, which meant he was about to go off on some long tangent. Claire didn’t mind so long as the horses didn’t.

  “You’d find it hard to believe, but there was a time when people wanted this,” Andre said. “I mean the fall of Man. God’s got a lot of faces and He’s made a lot of promises. People were tired of waiting for Ye Olde Apocalypse for the return on their investment.”

  “Investment?”

  “Faith, works, whatever. And I don’t guess it’s just those people – a lot of folks who didn’t believe in God at all wanted to see the End Times come and go without so much as a fart from the heavens, wanted to know that they were right.”

  “What does it matter when this is the world we get now?” Claire shook her head.

  “Amen,” Andre said. “But if you feel like the world you got is a wash and it’s never going to do right by you, you might just feel desperate enough to hunger for the end.”

  Hunger. Nice choice of words. Claire shivered in spite of the weather. Andre caught it and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged it off, and there was an awkward moment of quiet. Then Andre said, “Balls.”

  “Come again, Corporal?”

  “If Idaho or anyone else ever tries to get too cozy. I’ve probably told you this before.”

  “Oh.” Claire nodded. “Yeah. Eyeballs, testicles. Whichever you can get at. I know. Yes, sir, you’ve told me a few times.”

  “Okay, okay.” Andre held his hands up in surrender. “Maybe I just like saying ‘balls.’ I know you handle yourself just fine. I just…you know.”

  “I know.”

  Nightfall would bring the dead, and Death. But for now, in the encampment designated Fairfield but affectionately known by another name, the
re was light and warmth and a comfortable silence.

  The Strange Dead is available from Amazon here.