No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead

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No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead Page 17

by William Schlichter


  Simon starts his Jeep and pulls alongside the cargo containers. “How many do you have full now?”

  “We have three we’ve sealed. We may need another container soon.” The thin man jumps down from the ramp.

  “You still have four to fill.” Simon takes a cooler from the back of his vehicle.

  “I’ve put eight in this one this morning. We’ve been seeing a spike in biters.”

  “There have been quite a few hanging around the west fence line. You boys should do something about them.”

  “Use your target range.” The muscle bound man along with three more men all decked out in prison tattoos line up before Simon. One drags an empty cooler.

  “It’s not our job,” the skinny man balks.

  “That’s not our deal with the boss.” The muscular man makes the rifle he carries look like a toy cork gun.

  “I thought you were to capture the biters, Grayson?” Simon inquires.

  “Let’s be clear, Simon. We five have an arrangement with the boss and it only pertains to the biters on this side of the colony. Check your fence, there ain’t a single biter this side.”

  “The side that doesn’t need protecting.”

  “Because we protecting it.” The skinny man-ape slaps his chest.

  Simon’s sure he flashes some street gang sign he fails to comprehend.

  Tony takes the cooler from Simon. “We protect this end. We stay out of the colony. We capture biters. We eat well. We follow the same rules as you, only we live outside the fence at this time.”

  “Pretty good deal for five men found chained on a prison bus.”

  Grayson clamps his hand on Terry. “Simon, you trying to start something? We live up to our end. We know why we aren’t allowed inside, but we keep you safe.”

  “I should respect what you boys do, but you’re all criminals.”

  “I bet we ain’t the only murderers inside your camp,” Terry squeals.

  “In the old world we were accused of such corruptions.” Grayson has a calm Jedi demeanor. “How many people have you killed since the world ended?”

  “They’re already dead.”

  “Not the biters. People. You haven’t shot anyone living to stay alive?”

  “It’s a blurred line, old man. I killed a man,” Tony beams with pride. “But that was before.”

  “Kill anyone since?” Grayson asks.

  “Not that weren’t dead already,” Tony boasts.

  “I know the boss has killed the living since the end. And he keeps you safe so don’t come out here and start shit with us, Simon.”

  He glances at each of the five men in the eyes. “Without perimeter defense we’d never be able to sleep at night.”

  “Is that your way of apologizing?” Terry spits.

  “Nobody else would do this job,” Tony adds.

  “That innocent kid raped that poor girl. Now he’s here.” Grayson pats the cargo container. “At least with the five of us you know what you got to deal with. We all killed who we wanted dead. You don’t know about anyone else you bring inside.”

  Simon puts the empty cooler in his Jeep. “Being left chained in a prison bus to die leaves no questions as to your past. Too bad not everyone comes with such a résumé.”

  Simon gets back in the Jeep. “I had the cooks add an extra pie for you.” He drives off.

  The four look to Grayson for an answer.

  “Test us? I guess he knows now how loyal we are to our word.”

  “Why’d he do that? We do everything the boss wants,” Tony defends.

  “He wanted to know if we’d leave our post,” Terry ponders.

  “Simon looks for weak links in the chain of defense. Today, he doesn’t consider us a weak link. Now he has to deal with the biters growing on the other side of the camp.”

  “How do you know they’re growing?”

  “People have fled the cities and this place is where the food is.”

  Luke plops down across from Emily at the cafeteria table. “How you doing, girl?” He uses his ‘God’s gift to all women’ tone.

  Juliann and Kyle fill the spaces next to her.

  “Hope you don’t mind us joining you again.” Juliann smiles.

  “There are no assigned seats.” Emily notices there are few open seats in the cafeteria. “Even with this room so crowded, dinner doesn’t feel rushed.”

  “Other than guards and a couple farm hands no one has a night shift job, so we can enjoy each other’s company a bit more.”

  “We’re starting to get a little more leisure time in the evening.”

  “People are able to relax because it’s safe here.”

  “Speaking of relaxing, how did you get such a cushy job?”

  “You hit on me at every meal, and now you know you’re just being a jerk. Even with limited dating choices you don’t stand much of a chance of winning a girlfriend.”

  “Scoring all those touchdowns aren’t so impressive anymore. Girls want guys who protect them, bring home food and not be an asshole.”

  “Back to caveman time. Luke, you should fit right in,” Juliann quips.

  “Well, roses and selfie pics are out for dating ritual.”

  “So I should just roll up my dress and open my legs because we haven’t got a movie theater?” Emily asks.

  Juliann drops her fork into her mashed potatoes.

  “What’s wrong?” Kyle asks.

  “I’m never going on a date again.” Juliann’s eyes water.

  “There are plenty of guys that want to date you.”

  “No. I’ll never go to another football game, go shoe shopping, Skype. None of that will ever happen again.”

  “We’ll get those things back,” Kyle says in an attempt to convince himself as much as her.

  “I think I liked it better when you failed at flirting than this depressing conversation,” Emily says.

  “Then who’d you fuck to get assigned to the library?”

  “You know, if food wasn’t so precious I’d smack this tray across your face. For your information, they worked me on the farm first and I don’t shoot well enough to be a guard.”

  “Let it go, Luke,” Kyle snaps. “We find a lot of stuff in the houses and someone has to organize it. You wanted a greener world. No more throwing things away, and if she has to sort books and DVDs so we have something to do during our leisure time, then it’s important.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because they wouldn’t give her that kind of job unless it was. Boredom can be just as damaging to a group as a bite.”

  “Bad shot or not, she could stand behind the fence with a gun.”

  “I trust Wanikiya and our fearless leader. I certainly don’t want to go out there and hunt for supplies so if he says I need to stand behind the fence and jump up and down to eat I will do it.”

  “What do you know about him?” Emily asks.

  “He found me with a small group,” Juliann says.

  “I hid with a family who worked for the dam at the power plant. Haven’t really seen much, but he recovered them and now I build fences.” Kyle adds, “But I sleep in safety.”

  “I didn’t get much rest either before I was found. We were kind of a large group at this ambulance station. Two EMTs were trying to protect people. He swooped in like Captain fucking America and shot so many biters so fast. I know when he’s back from a run I sleep like a baby.”

  “That’s how he found you. Everyone here tell those stories. What about him? What do you know, besides he’s a crack shot? How’d he get the limp?” Emily wonders.

  “You came in the main gate with him. Didn’t you see the scar when he stripped?” Juliann asks.

  “He has a scar. Maybe it’s the reason he limps, but how did he get it?”

  “I don’t even think Wanikiya knows. He had it before they started this community. I know that much.”

  “I’ve heard rumors. He’s really smart. He just knows things. Medical, farming, Shakespeare…”
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  “Not mechanical. That pump worker taught him how to jumpstart and hotwire older cars.”

  “But he learned fast and after one time of being shown.”

  “I just want to know about him.” Emily sucks her lip over her bottom teeth to disguise her smile.

  “She likes him.”

  “He saved her life. I bet half the women in this colony crush on him for that.”

  “He doesn’t chase after any of them.”

  “I wouldn’t date him,” Juliann explains. “He spends more time outside the fence than in. One day he may not come back, and knowing every time he went out he could die, I’d go crazy.”

  “You didn’t say how he found you?” Luke asked.

  “He saved me...It was bad. Way worse than any biter attack.” Emily drops her head. In the old world she’d spend years in therapy to deal with the attack. Now she must just get over it.

  “I guess we were lucky to be rescued so early. New people who come in keep talking about how much worse it is out there.”

  “The world we knew does not exist anymore.” Luke slaps his chest, “Me be strong man, must protect tiny woman.”

  Emily laughs, “You keep working on that.”

  Juliann joins her in her giggle.

  Wanikiya cleans his hands on a dish towel before grabbing the radio in the cradle above the station where he was cutting onions. “Wanikiya here?”

  Both women preparing food glance disgustedly at the wireless receiver.

  “We’ve a situation at the gate,” the voice crackles over the speaker.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “There’s always a situation at the gate,” the older redhead says as she washes tomatoes in the sink. “Running this place is a full-time job in itself.”

  “It’s impossible for you to feed everyone and keep running off to put out fires around the camp. Not with our leader gone all the time.” The dark-skinned Nina fails to hold back her frustrations.

  “He does spend a lot of time outside the fence salvaging what we need to sustain ourselves. It just feels like he’s gone all the time.”

  “Maybe he should just relinquish the camp to you, and we elect a second in command, and keep doing what he does.” She places the tomatoes on a towel to dry.

  “Mary Kate, don’t speak that way.”

  “Do I miss where we voted out free speech?”

  “No.”

  “Then the Constitution still applies in here until it doesn’t.”

  “Administrative duties sometimes fill up whole days; others I’ve nothing to do. Besides, I like to cook,” Wanikiya adds.

  “If we keep growing it will become a full-time job. Town hall meetings are great for small numbers and small issues.”

  “You want to run for alderman when the time comes?”

  “I just don’t want your world famous omelets we’re eating for breakfast to be my last meal, because we should have a full-time leader instead of a cook.”

  Wanikiya hangs his apron on a hook by the door. “Mary Kate, I’d be happier just being the cook. Sometimes I don’t want to make the kinds of decisions the leader of this new world has to make.” He wraps his gun belt around his waist and clasps the buckle into place.

  “I think we should blow it up or burn it down,” Barlock points to the small white house down the highway.

  Wanikiya looks at each window of the house through the rifle scope. “No burning. Fire gets out of control and we’ll burn half the woods and maybe the colony.”

  “We could take a team out and demolish it.”

  The Sioux nods. “Scavenge anything useful, anything burnable we cut up for the fireplaces. We should eliminate all port of calls around the camp. It’s not the first time we’ve had to run someone out of there.” He lowers the rifle. “Did you get a number in this group?”

  “We don’t know. Austin was doing a random sweep with the telescope when he spotted one.”

  “I guess we should invite them in,” Wanikiya says.

  “We don’t know them. What if they are a scout party for raiders?”

  “If they are, they are poor scouts for being seen, and expert spies should have never taken up in a house a block from our front gate. Good spies would hide in a place we wouldn’t watch,” Wanikiya says.

  “You know a lot about scouting.”

  “My father taught me how to track.”

  “Did he teach you how to sneak outside the gate without any one of them knowing?”

  Wanikiya contemplates the need of a second entrance on this side of the compound, but occupying it would take more people they don’t have. “We should just take a truck. Be friendly.”

  “And just let them in?”

  “We’ll explain to them they must be willing to work in order to eat. Our first order of business after we get them inside the fence will be to tear down a house.”

  Wanikiya climbs down from the top of the cargo trailer. A guard calls out that people are leaving the house.

  “How many?” Wanikiya asks.

  “Nine, maybe. They’ve piled into the back of an El Camino and are in transit.”

  The car halts before the fence. The guards keep their rifles ready.

  A woman stands up from the bed. “We seek sanctuary.”

  Wanikiya calls out, “We are prepared to offer you refuge, but you must be willing to follow the rules of our community.”

  “We already follow God’s path, and are willing to accept the rules of sanctuary.”

  Barlock tugs at Wanikiya’s arm and whispers, “I don’t like the way they keep referring to this place as sanctuary. There were some crazed fanatics who thought God caused the undead to rise from the grave to punish the sinners.”

  “I’ve heard those stories, too, but we don’t turn people away based on their faith, even if it’s convoluted.” Wanikiya hollers, “Before we let you in you must understand everyone here works for their room and board.”

  “We’re willing to do our part,” the woman calls out. The whisper murmur of agreement among the group confirms her answer.

  Wanikiya steps from behind the cargo container into view of the sally port. “We’ll let you into our gate system. You need to surrender all weapons and submit to physical inspection.”

  “We agree,” the woman calls out.

  “Open the outer gate,” Wanikiya orders.

  The truck pulls into the first airlock.

  “Disembark from the truck, place any weapons inside the window in the container. Then step forward and remove all clothing.”

  She wraps her hands around the bars of the inner gate. “Why must you gaze upon our nakedness? It is a sin in eyes of the Lord.”

  “And it would be a worse sin to let one of you in here who was bitten,” Barlock warns.

  “We’re all faithful; only those full of sin in his eyes would be bitten.”

  “Then we won’t let you in. It’s non-negotiable.” Wanikiya stands firm.

  One of the men gets out of the El Camino. He whispers in her ear. “Test of our faith,” the woman says back to him as if she questions his response. She removes her coat. “We shall pass all tests to prove we are faithful.”

  The others disembark from the vehicle and disrobe. One man removes his shirt and has a festering mass of flesh near his belt line.

  “Suspicious infection!” calls out one of the guards sending the others into frenzy. The survivors draw handguns in response.

  “Everyone calm down.” Wanikiya unlocks the door built into the gate into the first empty airlock. “We need to check out his wound and make sure it’s not a bite.”

  “God would not turn any of us into one of his wraiths. The faithful won’t suffer his wrath.”

  “Then you need to move on. We’ll open the gate and you can continue along your way.”

  “No! We must be admitted to sanctuary.”

  “There is no sanctuary for those who won’t follow our rules.”

  “We follow God’s law.” she points her r
evolver directly at Wanikiya’s face.

  “We won’t risk the safety of everyone inside unless we know for sure your man isn’t infected.”

  “We must be let in,” she demands.

  Wanikiya feels himself being yanked backward. Barlock drags him through the gate. The woman fires. The survivors open fire with her. The gate guards assume defensive positions.

  “We need your order, Wanikiya,” Barlock demands.

  “We don’t let possible infected people into this compound.”

  “Then give the order. The men won’t fire unless you order,” Barlock confirms.

  “Those people will run out of ammo the way they are firing at nothing.”

  “Not before they shoot one of us! Wanikiya, give the order.”

  “Light them up,” Wanikiya reluctantly commands.

  Barlock clicks his radio. “Light them up.”

  The gate guard’s immediate response sends a halo of bullets into the nine people. Bodies riddled with holes flop and contort long dead before they fall to the ground.

  “Cease fire! Cease fire,” Barlock orders and the guards fall back into position.

  “Outfit a team to go in there in tactical gear to clean out the bodies,” Wanikiya orders.

  “Tactical gear?”

  “I don’t want anyone hurt.”

  “We got two wounded guards. Looks like nothing life threatening. I called the EMTs.

  “Good. Get tactical gear. Don’t go in there without it.

  Sporting latex gloves, Dr. Baker cuts the pants of the man with the festering wound.

  “Was it a bite?” Barlock asks.

  “Yes, but maybe not from a human mouth, looks more like an animal bite.”

  “They drew weapons over a possible animal bite, why not just say so?” Barlock wonders.

  “Maybe they thought we wouldn’t listen,” Wanikiya speculates.

  “Maybe they were crazy.” Barlock plops a cardboard box on the tailgate. He pulls out a leather bound book. “Their supplies consisted mostly of these.”

  Wanikiya runs his gloved finger over the golden inlaid cross on the cover. “How many?”

  “Over fifty.”

  “A lot of space they could have used to hold more water or food.”

 

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