THE TRASHMAN

by Terry McDonald

  The smile and her words made me shudder and raised the hair on my neck. I won’t say I wouldn’t be glad to part ways with Wanda.

  She said, “You’re welcome to the Toyota if you want it. I’m not following a schedule and not in a hurry to get anywhere. I figure I’m going to take my own advice and keep to the woods to follow the road. Being on the road seems like an invitation to be killed. Be careful Ralph. Remember it’s mostly the monsters that are out roaming. The good are hiding from them.

  “Thanks, Wanda, but I like sitting high.”

  The Caravan came nowhere near being as powerful as my Durango but it had the saving grace of having a nearly full tank of gasoline and a better MPG ratio.

  The first hundred miles flowed by without incident. The only bothersome thing was my wound itched to the point of distraction. I avoided scratching it. When I was a child, while visiting my grandparents for a summer vacation, I cut my knee on a piece of glass and had to get stitches. I remember it itched, too, and Grandmother told me to leave it alone, that the itch was a sign it was healing. I sure hoped she was right about the itch. I was more than ready for my side to heal.

  Just before the town of Blairsville, Georgia, a car approached from the front. As it drew closer, I saw it was a stretched Lincoln Limousine. The driver slowed and put his arm out waving for me to stop. The fact he was a scruffy, unshaven middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap told me the vehicle was one he’d simply taken. Because of the tinted windows, I had no idea who, with what intentions, might be invisible to me. I shook my head and continued on.

  The rest of the way to Sam’s I saw two other vehicles using the roads. One was a travel trailer that was parked in the lot of a convenience store. The occupants, a group of eight men, women, and teenagers were outside the trailer having a meal at a folding table. The adults were holding their rifles, watching me pass.

  The other vehicle was a red sports car that approached from the front and whizzed by me doing over a hundred miles-per-hour. I figured some people saw the fall of civilization as an opportunity to live the dream of owning a fast expensive toy.

  Passing through small towns, I saw a few houses with smoke coming from chimneys, but saw no people. They were probably smart to not be near the main roads, but I couldn’t help but think the smoke was a dead give-away to any wandering marauders.

  The scarcity of people during the hundreds of miles of my drive south was disturbing. Either the survivors of the plague were adept at staying hidden or the death toll was unimaginably high.

  Wild dogs were another story. I saw many packs of them; some had over twenty members, mostly big brutes, Rottweilers, and such.

  I arrived at Sam’s in the early afternoon. I paused at the entrance to his driveway. There was no smoke from his chimney because I knew he’d be using propane for heat. I was immediately worried because I saw none of them outside.

  I pulled close to the front porch and blasted my horn, waited twenty seconds and blasted it again, watching the windows to see if anyone parted the curtains to peer out. I gave it a full minute to give them time to respond. Nothing, no sign of their presence did I see. I climbed from the van, went to the front door, and used the mounted brass clapper hard.

  No one answered. I tried the knob. The door was locked. Already knowing the worst, I stepped away and kicked the door open.

  The odor of decaying flesh stopped me cold. I retreated from the porch. My feet touched the ground at the bottom of the steps and I bent, vomiting and retching, tears dripping from my eyes.

  I didn’t enter the house. I went to a shed for a shovel and spent the rest of the afternoon digging a grave as I had done for my family. Only then did I enter my brother’s home.

  I tied a wet cloth around my face, and dragging a hand truck, entered through the door.

  Almost mirroring the death of my family, they were in the master bedroom. Sam was lying on the bed. Their sons, Jared and Bruce, were on each side of him. Lucy was on the floor. It was obvious she’d fallen from a toppled over chair.

  Sam and the boys were swollen, their faces so bloated they were nearly unrecognizable. Body fluids had leaked from their noses and mouths. Maggots were feeding and a seething mass of them had eaten into their eye sockets.

  Lucy must have been the first to die because her bloat had collapsed. I saw maggots visible and maggots moving under her skin. Sam must have been too incapacitated to deal with her death. It had to be horrible for him to know his wife was dead and unattended to as the children died by his side.

  I lost it again, racing from the room to the hall, barely removing my mask in time to heave my guts. I went to the living room to recover. I knew I had to follow through.

  By the time Sam and his loved ones were laid in the ground, I barely had strength left to cover them. I placed the last spade-full of dirt onto the grave and tossed the shovel. Anger, grief, and exhaustion overwhelmed me. I searched for words.

  Finally, I spokealoud. “Sam, you were a good brother. You married a fine, wonderful woman who gave you strength. You fathered two good boys who would be a credit to anyone. I love you, Sam, and I’ll miss you all. God have mercy and take you and yours into his arms.”

  I moved the van farther from the house. I had no stomach for food. I slept in the van, awakening to the feel of the sun heating my face. I made a small fire. Just the thought of eating another cold meal of canned stew almost brought on another fit of retching.

  It was past ten in the morning when I rode away from my brother’s home. I drove to the house Salvo had claimed. After honking the horn and waiting, I breached his door. I found no one there and no sign of violence. They had left. I hoped they went into hiding and were still alive.

  I checked on Sarah Hawkins. She was gone, too.

  Back at Salvo’s house, I cooked a real meal on the gas range. Fried ham from a can, mixed veggies, and I had a can of pears for desert. After that, I sat in a comfortable chair and planned my future.

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around all the death. It felt unreal that so many were dead. What I wanted was revenge against the plague, but since that wasn’t possible, my rage transferred to the Bradford Clan. Somehow, in the workings of my mind, they were responsible for the disaster and they had to pay for it.

  I thought about the men I’d seen in the open jeep. They’d looked big and tough. They were well armed with warrior’s weapons. I was weak, wounded, poorly armed and for damned sure no warrior.

  So what, my mind said. You can arm yourself. You can train yourself. You can become the most bad-assed warrior they’ve ever seen. Like Wanda said about herself, I wasn’t on a schedule. My time was my own and I could pick my time… To kill them.

  I stood from the chair and went to the van, my mind echoing with the thought to kill all the murdering rapists. I had no other goal, no other direction but that.

  *****

  I went to Moultrie simply because that was to be our group’s destination prior to the arrival of the gang in the pickup truck and the infecting of Sam, and subsequently everyone but me, as far as I know. I did have hopes for the J’s. They’d kept away from us and then left Sam’s place immediately after the dying woman coughed in his face.

  It’s odd how things can work out. I entered Moultrie and because I was keeping an eye out for any form of danger, I saw and drove past a National Guard Armory. I was a half mile down the road when it hit me. An armory might be just what I needed. Even though I’d been a Guardsman for a short period, I didn’t know much about the military, but I thought by implication, an Armory would have weapons.

  I turned and backtracked to the facility. The only entry, other than climbing a chain link fence topped with razor wire, was the main reception building. I went to the double doors and looked through the reinforced glass.

  I was amazed no one had forced an entry to the facility. Because of the angle of the sun, it was very dim inside. Peer as I might, I saw no one inside. I picked up a small stone from the edge of the drive and used it t
o rap the glass.

  I gave it ten minutes, alternately rapping and waiting. Deciding the building was vacant, I went to the van to search for a tool to force the door. In the rear, with the spare tire was an old-fashioned lug wrench with a chisel shape on one end.

  As I approached the door, tool in hand, a voice came from a speaker above the doors.

  “Sir, this is a US military facility. I must warn you any attempt to trespass on these grounds will be met with lethal force.”

  I looked up at the speaker and saw there was a surveillance camera near it.

  Staring at the camera, I spoke. “Well you could have answered and save me a trip to my van. I thought the place was empty.”

  “This base is staffed and well protected. Sir, what is your business here today?”

  In for a penny… I told him. “I have a shotgun and a couple of pistols, but I need better weapons to take up north to kill a gang of rapists and murderers that call themselves the Bradford Clan.”

  “That’s out of the question, Sir. Military armament will not be distributed to the civilian population.”

  “I figured you’d say that. Who am I speaking to?”

  “Major Allen, Sir.”

  “Is Allen you last name?”

  “It is, Sir.”

  “Would I be out of place to ask your first name?”

  “William, Sir.”

  His name hit me hard and I know I gasped. “My son’s name was William. I watched him die, watched him choke to death on his own spit a few days ago. I know you’re not busy. Will you let me tell you a story?”

  “I can listen, Sir, but any story you tell will not change the regulations under which this facility operates. If you think telling your story will change my orders, you’d be wasting your time.”

  “Time I’ve got and I think you do, too.”

  I started from the beginning and I put in every detail of the hell I’d been through and the evil I’d witnessed. Major Allen didn’t speak until I finished.

  “So you have no idea how many men at arms the Bradford Clan has. By your own admission, you have no military training. Sir, even if I supplied you with arms, you would be headed for certain death.”

  I was beginning to get angry. “Do you think I give a damn? Yeah. I’ll most likely get killed, but maybe I can rid the world of some of them before I do. Christ, man, do you have any idea of how many people have been eradicated from this nation you swore to protect? There aren’t any police, fire department. We survivors can’t call 911. Where’s the rest of the army? Dead is where they are. I’m asking you to give me a fighting chance.”

  “Sir, I’d like to help you, but my orders contraindicate that.”

  I heard another voice speak in the background. “Let’s help the poor bastard.” Then I heard a click and the hum from the speaker died. I realized Major Allen had switched it off so I couldn’t hear the conversation. After ten minutes, it was switched on long enough for Allen to say, “Please be patient.”

  I was patient. The speaker became active a few minutes later.

  “Sir, you stated that you were exposed to the virus and survived the plague. We in here are all survivors, too. Please place your weapons onto the pavement ten paces from the door and return. When I open the door, I expect to see your hands clasped on top of your head and every movement you make to be executed slowly, including walking through the door. Am I understood, Sir?”

  “I understand completely, Major Allen.” I did as he requested; ten paces from the door I placed the shotgun and the Beretta on the pavement. The .22 was still in the van. I returned to the door and clasped my hands on top of my head.

  A man in uniform appeared at the door. I heard him insert the key; the door opened and he stepped away. I saw the pistol he held pointed at me. Another man farther into the room had a wicked looking rifle pointed at my chest.

  “You got him, Chester?” the man who’d opened the door asked.

  “I’ve got him dead on, Sir. He even twitches without your permission, I’ll run a chain of rounds through him.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Then addressing me, “Sir, I want you to strip to your skivvies, shirt first.

  They had me strip to my bare feet, leaving me with only my boxers.

  “He has the wound he told us about,” the man with the rifle said.

  “Thank you, Sergeant. At least that part of his tale is true. Keep him subdued. I’ll gather his weapons and bring his vehicle inside the compound.”

  “Toss me your keys, Sir.”

  “They’re in the van.”

  The sergeant wouldn’t respond to any questions I asked. Major Allen rejoined us.

  “Let’s take him to supply and get him dressed. Sir, follow Sergeant Chester. Keep in mind I’m behind you.”

  A half hour later I was dressed and booted in Battle Dress Uniform, or as they called them, BDUs. After I was clothed, they led me to a dining area adequate to seat fifty or more. Sergeant Chester went into the huge kitchen to make coffee. Major Allen led the way to a metal dining table. He sat across from me.

  “We’ll wait for Carl before we get to any heavy talk. Carl is Chester’s first name. We keep it informal between us, but you can call me Major or Allen if William is too painful.

  “William will be fine. We mostly called our son Will.”

  “Ralph, I want to say I’m sorry for your loss. Carl and I have lost loved ones, too, and we understand the hurt.”

  “I’m sure everyone here has.” I glanced around the dining hall, wondering about the absence of other people, even the lack of cooks. William noticed.

  “If you’re looking for other cadre, there aren’t any. Carl and I are the only ones left. There were eighty of us who didn’t abandon our post as the plague event unfolded. We are the only ones who caught the plague and survived.

  “There’s something you should know. Another soldier showed up afterwards. He was clear of the plague when he arrived. Ten days later, he started coughing and then he was gone. Me and Carl figure one or both of us are carriers; Typhoid Mary’s if you will. That means the survivors who lived through this because of isolation can be infected by us, probably by you, too.”

  That bit of news was a hard blow.

  “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to keep that in mind outside of here. Did you have a family? I’m sorry, that was a stupid way to phrase that. We all have family.”

  “You’re asking was I married. I was for twelve years, but divorced ten years ago. We didn’t keep in touch. Thank God we didn’t have children. Carl lost his wife and three children. Let’s avoid the subject when he’s around. It took him a while to come out of a funk and he still has relapses.”

  “Married for twelve years and divorced ten? You don’t look old enough. I took you to be in your thirties.”

  “Forty-four last Friday. I may not look it, but I feel it. Carl’s thirty-six… Speaking of Carl,” William rose as Carl approached the table holding a carafe of coffee with cups and condiments on a metal tray.

  For some reason, reflex I guess, I stood too.

  Carl barked a short laugh as he set the tray on the table. “What the fuck, guys? I may be serving, but I’m all man.”

  I shook my head and smiled. “I stood because the Major did.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that, William?”

  The Major blushed. “Crap, I don’t know. I thought I’d give you a hand, but I see you’ve got it under control.”

  Ignoring William’s discomfort, Carl pulled out a chair beside me and sat. “Did William break the news about our numbers?”

  I nodded. “He did. I have to say he was very convincing on the speaker. I expected there to be more of you.”

  “You’re not the first civilian who thought to grab arms from here. Most of them went away. One group of five came back at night and cut a hole through the fence. We had a shootout that they lost. Didn’t even have to engage our robotics, we took ‘em out ourselves. We placed the bodies in strategic places
along the fence line. Their skeletons serve as a warning to others thinking they can do the same.”

  William had regained his composure and spoke. “Do you want to know why we let you in?”

  “I would, yes.”

  “During that little blank space while Carl and I hashed it out, well the subject wasn’t really you. The push of our talk was we wanted to be the ones to go after the Clan. It would be a military action that we’re trained for.

  “We’re caught between a rock and a hard spot. Five years ago, this armory became the depository of a huge inventory of weapons and explosives. If we abandon it, I don’t want to think about the type of people that would raid this facility.”

  I asked, “What will you ultimately do? I mean you can’t stay here forever. It’d be like being in prison.”

  “We do have a plan, and who knows, maybe you can be of service to your country, at least to your fellow man. We’d like to see a community of decent people gather in this town, a populace with humane objectives who want to live in peace with laws to guide them. Those people we would arm to defend themselves.”

  I liked the sound of that and told them so. “I think you two are the kind of people the world needs more of. If there’s anything I can do to help, tell me.”

  Carl jumped back into the conversation. “Find those people for us. If you meet other wanderers of decent thread, have them send people our way too. We know the pickings are thin out there. The population’s been decimated. This is the reason we let you in. Evil people, individuals, and groups like the Clan are killing the people we want, killing off the decent ones. The fact you want to kill murderers who killed the couple that you didn’t even know tells us the thread you’re made of.”

  William said, “Carl is spot on about our opinion of you, but I’m afraid we can’t simply arm you and send you on your way. First, you have to sign up. After that, you will have to go through eight weeks of intensive combat training before we can send you out to fight.”

  “You want me to join the Army?”