O'Connor believed that would change shortly.
Penny's truck was loud. Easily heard over a great distance by curious dead ears. A horde as large as the one Jake and Kat had evaded was bound to have noticed the Chevy's throaty growl as they'd motored back from the school. It was only a matter of time until zombies began staggering up to the grainery fence-line, then whoever was within the building would most likely be up Shit Creek. After just taking a two day trip on said waterway while trapped in Old Hall, Jake fervently hoped he and Kat would be long gone by then. If not, there was an excellent chance they'd end up assuming room temperature along with whoever else was inside.
“There's Will up on the roof.” Jerry pointed back over Ben's shoulder. Jake could clearly see a solitary figure, holding some kind of scoped hunting rifle, atop one of the silos waving at them disinterestedly.
Benjamin spat next to the truck tire before climbing back into the cab. “That guy's a pussy.”
“You're just still mad Rebecca took his side and not yours.” Penny laughed and set their truck in motion. “Where did you want to hole up again? The firehouse, wasn't it? Yeah, that would've worked out well. You do remember what happened at Town Hall on the second day of the outbreak, right?”
“Piss off, dyke. It would've been better than squatting here. At least it was next to the Costco.” Ben crossed his arms and rolled down his window. “Had to be something to drink in there... Haven't had anything for weeks, except that foofy micro-brew you sissies like so much. Gimme a bottle of Southern Comfort instead, any day.”
“You have no taste at all.” Penny drove her truck up a pair of dock doors, then killed the engine. “And I told you to stop with that 'dyke' shit.”
Benjamin snorted. “Why? It's true. You do chicks. That makes ya 'a dyke.”
“No, dipshit, that makes me bisexual. I like guys too. And fuck you.”
“Name one guy you've done,.” Benjamin demanded.
“Will.” Penny pointed to the roof-line.
“Bullshit.” Jerry remained unconvinced. “You did not.”
Penny shrugged. “Don't take my word for it, ask him. He'll tell you. Screwed like horny howler monkeys, right there where you're sitting.”
“Ah, god!” Benjamin all but dove through the door in his haste to vacate his seat.
Jake laughed aloud and the Ben shot him an angry look which he ignored.
“What are you laughing at fuck-tard?” he demanded
“Who are you calling 'fuck-tard', you fuck-tard?” Jake mocked.
Ben glowered at him. “You think that's funny shit-head?”
“Dunno what you're talking about shit-head,” Jake continued.
Mullet-head Ben took an angry step toward him. “You know what? Keep on going, and I'm gonna fuck up that pretty mouth of yours, but good.”
O'Connor managed to keep a straight face. “I'm not into blowing guys. But thanks for the offer.”
Ben's face turned deep purple and he put one hand on the Browning at his hip.
“Ben! What in the blue Hell is going on out here??”
That was yelled by a rather portly woman standing just inside the dock door with several other survivors. She wasn't 'fat' per say, just healthy looking, like one of those Renaissance era paintings of pale-skinned women reclining on couches.
Interesting how the standards of beauty have changed down through the ages, Jake mused thoughtfully.
She had a pair of antique Colt wheel-guns worn gunslinger-style across her hips over, what could only be termed: a moo-moo. The unflattering teal, floral patterned dress clashed horribly with the woman's hiking boots, and she was actually wearing bifocals.
She gave Jake a visual once-over. “Is this one of the people you saw Benjamin?”
“Yeah, that's him. Sure of it.” Ben seemed to deflate under the older woman's scrutiny, but continued to look daggers in Jake's direction. “You ask me, we should just dump him outside and let them deaders eat his ass.”
“That's enough. You know we need everyone we can find.” Moo-moo lady strode outside and hopped from the dock's edge to the ground. “Has he been searched?”
Penny spoke up. “Yep. Did that first thing. He had a pretty nice Glock and this monstrosity.” She patted Jake's Hammer repeater, still stuffed in her waistband.
“No rifle?” Moo-moo asked.
“Not unless he stashed it somewhere before we caught him. Or left it with the woman.” Penny shook her head. “Couldn't find her though.”
“Well, with any luck we'll be able to track her down too. It's getting more and more difficult to locate survivors, and there are too few of us as it is. If not for Will's ability with that rifle of his, half of us would be on fence duty every day. He was a godsend.” Moo-moo came to a halt in front of Jake. “What's your name, young man?”
Jake kept his mouth shut and took a good look around. Besides Penny, Jerry, Benjamin, Will up on the roof, and Moo-moo lady, there were a trio of men still visible inside the door. The writer could hear obvious sounds of humanity within the grainery, but wasn't able to come up with a viable number for how many other people might be inside.
Moo-moo motioned to Penny. “We can dispense with the handcuffs, Deputy. I believe our new friend will mind his manners.”
“He still has that big knife.” Penny gazed pointedly at the Ka-Bar Tanto still riding Jake's left shoulder over his tactical vest.
“True, but I doubt he'd be one to attempt cutting my throat while surrounded by people holding loaded firearms.” Moo-moo almost smiled.
Penny didn't look pleased, but removed Jake's cuffs. Once his hands were free, he began rubbing his chafed wrists as she stuck the metal restraints in her back pocket again. Moo-moo noticed Ben's fingers continued to tickle the pommel of his Browning, gave an exasperated sigh, and pointed him towards the door. “Benjamin, go tell Paula we have an additional person to feed tonight. She'll have to add to whatever she's making, or we'll be short a plate.”
Ben grudgingly obeyed, but looked back at Jake as he entered the grainery with murder in his eyes. Jake smiled back pleasantly, then flipped him the bird. Once half of the Ice Cream Team was gone, Moo-moo turned to Jake once more and extended her hand.
“Rebecca Lewis, and your name is?”
Jake considered ignoring her hand, then though better of it. He didn't play the squeeze game so many men engaged in and just shook hers firmly. “Jake.”
“No last name?” Rebecca asked.
“Does it matter?”
She shrugged. “Not anymore. Would you care to join us for dinner, Just Jake?”
“Do I have any choice?” Jake looked pointedly around at her people, still giving him the stink-eye, guns in hand.
“Not really.” Rebecca told him.
* * *
“Well, it's no cheeseburger.” Jake mumbled to himself.
That was yet another thing he hated about life in the zombie apocalypse. No bacon double cheeseburgers to be had.
Period.
Dinner consisted of a paste-like stew, made primarily from barley, whole oats, and rolled corn. It did contain small rounds of what he assumed were Vienna sausages, just to break up the monotony, but they were scattered throughout sparsely at best. Someone had attempted to give the gruel-like dish a little flavor by adding a bit of chicken bouillon, but all that really did was make the stew so incredibly salty it was nigh inedible. Jake powered through the awful mixture, wryly, noting he'd never be able to eat oatmeal again without thinking of the glop on his spoon now. MREs were gourmet dining by way of comparison.
Rebecca came to sit with him at the rickety folding table he'd commandeered, choosing to remain away from the other survivors gathered in the center of their grainery. He didn't think any of them were lowlifes or homicidal maniacs... Well, with maybe the exception of Benjamin, but he really didn't want to socialize either. Maybe they were good people, but they weren't his people. Besides it had been almost three days since Jake and Kat lead a horde away from th
eir friends, and he missed Laurel. And Kat. And the others, of course. But he wanted to get back to Laurel, right now.
“May I join you?” The matronly Moo-moo wearing, Rebecca Lewis inquired.
“I'm pretty much done.” Jake pushed his bowl away, pulled the pack of American Spirits from his vest pocket, took one out, and used his well-abused Zippo to light up. It wasn't that he particularly felt like having a cigarette and that moment, but doing so usually discouraged unwanted company. At least in the pre-zombie, politically-correct, nanny culture that the United States had become. Not so any longer. Rebecca plopped into the chair opposite him and began eating her bowl of yuck with gusto, even with Jake blowing smoke out through his nostrils in her direction.
“I wanted to let you know we've got a small meeting ceremony right after the meal. I didn't want you to disappear just yet.” Rebecca smiled winningly as she finished her stew. “We kind of celebrate finding anyone who's still alive nowadays, and a few of us wanted to welcome you to our group.”
“Uh-huh. No offense, but who says I'm staying?” Jake blew a smoke ring and leaned back in his chair. “Your people all but brought me here with a gun to my head. What gives you the impression I'm not leaving the first chance I get?”
Rebecca sighed and folded her hands together on the tabletop. “Jake, I realize we didn't make a good impression on you. Benjamin is missing a few personality traits, like the ability to actually think before he speaks, Jerry isn't the brightest bulb in the box either, and Penny can come across as a bit abrasive—”
Jake grunted. “I was going to say 'Like a bitch', but we'll go with abrasive.”
“Be that as it may, you have to understand that these people have been through a lot. We've had no contact with any level of authority, there's been no information broadcast in weeks—and trust me, we've been listening for someone, anyone, via CB and shortwave—and those creatures outside have everyone frightened nearly out of their minds.” Rebecca spread her hands, palms up. “Can you blame us if we're a little on edge?”
O'Connor took a long drag on his cigarette and crossed his arms. “If you mean a little on edge as in 'we're going to kidnap and detain anyone we cross paths with', then no, how could I blame you for that?”
Rebecca looked at him sadly. “Jake, even if we did let you just walk out of here, where would you go? The country, the whole world has been overrun by those things out there. There's no government, no infrastructure... Hell, there's not even a safe place to sleep for the night outside these walls.”
“I got along just fine. Until your crew pointed guns in my face.” He was unconvinced. Rebecca and these people had no knowledge of Foster's pink, zombie-proof dreadnaught, The Screamin' Mimi, and Jake had no intentions of telling them about it either. Regardless of her proclaimed good intentions, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Rebecca could view such a machine as too good to pass up and demand his party join up with hers, or just surrender the Mimi altogether in exchange for his release.
“What did you do before all this?” Jake was genuinely curious.
With a chuckle, Rebecca admitted, “I was a professor of Religious Studies at the University of Cincinnati, specializing in the tribal customs of early man.”
That was surprising. “Really? How did you end up here?”
“I was on my way to Pittsburgh to visit friends when the zombies rose. There were so many, even here, I reasoned that my best chance to survive would be to stay away from major cities.” Rebecca's eyes were far away as she spoke. “So I remained here, found this place and began gathering whoever I could. Saved a few, lost more, but we've managed to hold out. There's a large reservoir just above on the hillside that feeds a gravity system so water isn't a problem, at least not so far. We scavenge the nearby area for specialty items, but most of what we need food-wise we obtain from the silos here. ”
Jake nodded without comment.
Rebecca motioned toward his half-consumed bowl of glop as she looked over her shoulder towards the other members of her group. “Not extremely satisfying I know, but it beats starvation. It seems everyone is almost ready to proceed. Would you come with me, please?”
Jake noted people were pushing folding tables away from the center of the room while still others collected bowls, empty glasses, and the odd utensil. “What's on the addenda?”
“A house meeting, if that's the term you prefer.” Rebecca waited for Jake until he finished his American Spirit. “Any new members are presented to the group the evening they arrive, and we advise them of community expectations. We've stuck with the basic rules of law here, so theft, rape, assault, murder, and any other types of violent acts are not tolerated. We have added a few guidelines the group has voted on as well, but let me tell you the rest once we get going.”
Her people had finished clearing the area at the warehouse's center and, while most had taken seats on folding chairs, lawn chairs, even just on the floor, a few stood watch near the back still holding various firearms. Jake did a quick head count and realized there were just over seventy-five other people in the echoing room, discounting Rebecca and himself. Over two-thirds of that number were female, ranging from perhaps age sixteen into the late thirties, which he found interesting if not very surprising. It stood to reason there would be more women alive at this juncture than men. Any real man would fight the zombies, even give his life, to protect his wife, girlfriend, mother, daughter, or even just a woman in general.
Jake understood the mindset. He'd crossed nearly the entire Columbus metroplex on the day the zombies rose to reach Laurel with Allen and Kat. A bonehead move, he knew, but in his mind there hadn't been any other choice. She was an amazing woman, and he'd had a full-blown case of 'Caveman Want!' syndrome.
Rebecca moved in front of the gathering and put up one hand for attention.
“Everyone? I'm sure most of you know we found a survivor today, so I wanted to introduce him. Jake would you come over here?”
Wow. Love-fest time. Yay, Jake thought, and moved up with Rebecca to face the others. He could see Jerry to the left, sipping at some kind of hard cider and looking bored. A little farther back Roy sat next to a pair of college-age girls, splitting his time between glaring at Jake and trying to steal discrete looks down the closer one's shirt. Penny remained alone at the rear, arms crossed and leaning against the nearby storage rack, looking totally at ease.
Rebecca gestured towards the writer as he stood beside her and lit another smoke. “We've built a life in this place since the world changed. It's not an easy one by any means, but we're reasonably safe here and that's no small blessing. Now, since Jake will be staying with us, he'll need some help adjusting. He'll need time to find his place and choose a way to contribute to our continued survival, while observing our rules. That being the case, I'm asking for a volunteer to help him acclimatize. Is anyone willing?”
O'Connor frowned. Rebecca was effectively trying to assign him a babysitter in such a way that Jake couldn't refuse without coming across like an ingrate. Having someone watch his every, waking move would make leaving the grainery extremely difficult, even when (or if) Cho managed to trace him here. That was something he was beginning to feel more than a little nervous about, actually. While Kat more than had the ability to take care of herself, she was out there all alone at the moment. She had to sleep sometime, and there was no one else to guard her back since he was basically a prisoner. Jake half hoped she'd just make for the airport, link up with the others, and bring George back with a few of his toys. Like say, his Longarm sniper rifle. The gray-haired veteran could sit on a nearby hill somewhere, picking off target after target if need be, until this group released him.
Since he was deep in thought, Jake didn't see some of the women's hands raise throughout the crowd at first. Lost though he was for the moment in his mental machinations, Jake didn't miss the wolf-whistle one of them let loose. Shaking off his reverie, he saw expressions on many appealing female faces that were just shy of predatory. T
hey were a bit grungy, a little disheveled, and most in serious need of some really good shampoo, but each was reasonably attractive considering the conditions they'd been living in. And all of them had eager smiles.
Who'd have thought a job babysitting would be so popular after the apocalypse? he wondered.
“Thank you, each of you.” Rebecca was beaming as the five women rose one by one and moved to the front of the gathered crowd. Ben looked none too pleased, maybe because the young woman whose cleavage he'd been fondling with his eyes was one of the volunteers. Jake noted that for future reference, but he wasn't that concerned with Mullet-head just then.
Rebecca turned to face him. “Please choose one to be your companion.”
“Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I won't be staying. Things to do, places to go.” Jake looked around for the nearest door. “Thanks for the meal. And the kidnapping. I'll be leaving now if someone will show me to the exit?”
“Where would you go?” she asked gently. “There's nothing left out there. You've seen that for yourself. What did you plan to do, hope to continue avoiding the creatures indefinitely? Search for another sanctuary that managed to withstand the end of our world? Live out the rest of your life as a vagabond? A scavenger? Why not remain and build a life here, with us?”
Jake felt the lure of it. Community. A semblance of normality amidst the abject horror of the apocalypse. But he didn't know these people. He had promises to keep and miles to go, etc. Besides which, the way Rebecca's 'volunteers' were looking at him made the writer decidedly nervous.
“I'm not much of a joiner. Besides, I want to keep moving.” Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't know if there are other survivor groups out there, and neither do you evidently, so I'd like to find out on my own.”
Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) Page 9