As the compound’s numbers thinned and the shifts increased, the mess became little more than a cold space where the weary were afforded a brief rest and some scant calories.
With dramatically reduced use, it was near spotless. The cleanliness bordered on the clinical, but rather than offering comfort, Erik found it cheerless and disquieting.
His fork scraped against the stainless steel plate.
He could almost count the sands of his youth as they slipped away.
Despite a genuine lack of interest, Erik shoveled another mouthful of the brown rice into his mouth. It tasted like parchment, but it didn’t matter; he needed the carbohydrates. Furthermore, he never knew when his next meal would come.
Or, if his suspicions proved true about the shed, which meal would be his last.
Tomorrow would be another grueling day.
***
Daniel stared over the broken form of Anders.
Keeley had packed a compress with some snow and ice, did her best to keep the swelling down on his battered face. Of particular worry was the significant damage to the orbital bone. If they couldn’t contain it, it was possible he would lose the use of his right eye, if not lose the eye altogether. Moreover, they still needed to set his mangled jaw.
Mercifully, Anders endured only periodic bouts of consciousness.
Unbeknownst to the increased soldier presence stationed in the infirmary, the lead surgeon had managed to smuggle a few higher-end painkillers into Daniel’s pocket.
His intent was well received.
Whereas the better part of their patients had been removed from further consideration, Daniel and Keeley could be afforded some additional time and resource with this one. In a perfect situation, Daniel’s preference would have been to keep Anders completely sedated – but their limited inventory meant this was impossible.
In his delusions, Anders would groan and mumble unintelligibly. It was obvious this sleep was not restful, but rather a manifestation of his broken body’s desire to shut down.
Daniel watched as Keeley checked the compress and the horrible bruising beneath. Keeley’s usual buoyant demeanor had given way to cold stoicism. Though her touch remained soothing as she saw to Anders’ relative comfort, underneath the surface, she clearly burned.
She might be willing to listen to him.
Daniel surveyed the guards posted about the room and pretended to work out Anders’ treatment regimen. Satisfied he was not being watched, he inched closer to Keeley.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he whispered.
The sudden statement caught her off guard.
‘…what?’ Keeley exclaimed, an octave higher than intended.
Daniel masterfully deflected the surprise, casually brushed it off so as not to further attract any unwanted attention.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he reiterated in a severe whisper. ‘It isn’t safe.’
Keeley glanced up to meet Daniel’s eyes. For the first time, she noticed the ebb of bruising as it spread under his ebony skin.
Undeterred, he continued.
‘We could have saved most of these people.’
He surveyed the several recently vacated cots.
Despite its newfound emptiness, the infirmary felt exponentially smaller now.
‘Daniel, they had just sent a team out…’
‘Bullshit,’ he spat. ‘Whatever they were sent out for, it wasn’t for our benefit.’
Keeley turned her eyes back to Anders and she leaned in to adjust the compress.
The guards continued to pay them little attention.
Daniel continued.
‘I bet the butchers had their orders long before the team made it back.’
Something in that statement struck a chord in Keeley; she searched her feelings and her recollection of the events.
Keeley’s head swam as she struggled to puzzle the pieces together.
‘Think about it,’ Daniel urged as he feigned to review the chart with Keeley. ‘Isaac wasn’t in any shape to be out there. The last time the scavengers were sent for medical supply they went out in force and they barely made it back. Why send such a small team this round, when our situation is even more desperate?’
Daniel felt the gaze of one of the guards burrow into him from afar. Instinctively, he moved about the cot and appeared to busy himself. Keeley sensed his motivations and they paused their conversation until they once again felt assured in their anonymity.
After a long moment, Keeley crouched down to adjust the bedding. The angle afforded her some obscurity.
‘Daniel… what, exactly, are you saying?’
‘I’m saying Quinn knew they’d come back empty handed… and most likely a man short.’
Keeley was stunned by the bluntness of the accusation.
It was no secret that the man who didn’t return from that run was not a regular fixture with the salvage teams. Nor was it a secret he had the reputation of being a bit of an agitator.
Daniel’s sober eyes were unblinking as they locked stares.
‘I’m saying Quinn had always planned to clear the infirmary out.’
Her mind opened to the possibility that Daniel may have been on to something.
‘Martial law,’ Daniel began anew, incredulous and disgusted. He subtly motioned to the unconscious form sprawled before them. ‘Jesus, look at this guy; for what? He took some fucking sugar?’
As Keeley looked over the broken wreck of Anders, she couldn’t help herself from arriving at the same ominous conclusion.
Daniel was right.
Maybe now was the time for urgency.
They couldn’t stay here.
Chapter 17
The plan was hatched that night.
Keeley brought Isaac into the civilian mess near midnight. The moonlight scarcely pierced the battered windows, but it was sufficient to reveal Daniel sitting pensively at the end of the one of the long tables that occupied the center of the room. A dented steel camping mug sat in front of him, steam pouring off the boiled water.
The three sat together as Daniel outlined his version of the events in the infirmary, life in the compound from his viewpoint.
Isaac listened, quiet and careful, and tried to reconcile their experiences with his own outside the walls. He was so fixated on Daniel’s words he didn’t notice the tears welling in the corners of Keeley’s eyes.
After they laid out their case, the three sat in silence. Daniel warmed his hands against the mug as Keeley’s gaze wandered the confines of the empty room, vainly searching for escape.
Or, in the very least, distraction.
Isaac weighed the details in his mind.
As unfortunate as the business was, Anders had to expect some repercussions. His failure in the nests had left the compound exposed; an entire section of fence was compromised. Shit, people died because of him. Furthermore, he had stolen provisions; meager though they may have been, it was the principle.
Isaac felt nothing but contempt for the man.
Even with the cull in the infirmary, Isaac could appreciate its cold logic. Whether it was too early – or too late, for that matter – was arbitrary. This was a siege, a war of attrition, and the compound was being starved out of everything.
The arithmetic may have been grim, but it was straightforward.
If he was being entirely truthful, Isaac wondered what decisions he would have made in similar circumstances.
What additional lengths would he be willing to go?
It chilled him a bit to realize he may yet have the chance to find out.
In principle, the three agreed. They would leave this place by cover of nightfall; try their luck and their will in the wasteland beyond.
‘There’s one more thing…,’ Keeley began, punctuating the heavy silence surrounding them.
‘We’re taking Anders with us,’ she stated flatly.
Isaac scoffed at the suggestion.
‘You can’t be serious…’
Keeley never faltered.
‘He’s suffered more than anyone.’
‘And rightly so,’ Isaac shot back. ‘Besides, I saw how he looked. He’s banged up. He’ll be slow, and out there slow is dead.’
‘His chances are better out there than they are in here,’ Daniel replied, mimicking the emphasis.
Keeley noticeably warmed at the support.
‘Maybe that’s for a fucking reason, Daniel,’ Isaac retorted, sharper than he needed. ‘And in any event, that’s not our fucking problem. He’s going to be a liability.’
Isaac pushed himself from the table and sat back in his chair.
‘Look at what Quinn’s done in here,’ Daniel whispered hoarsely, drawing closer. ‘Look at the shit we’re left with.’
Daniel motioned to the emptiness surrounding them.
‘This place is a tomb.’
Isaac considered the words.
‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’
Isaac’s inference was obvious.
Daniel couldn’t believe his ears.
‘How can you defend that animal, those choices?’
Isaac shook his head dismissively.
‘There’s a point you need to cut your losses, Daniel.’
‘Fuck that,’ Daniel replied, the surge in emotion causing his normally repressed African accent to surface. ‘She’s right, he’s coming.’
Isaac’s glare lingered, but Daniel would not be swayed. He had failed his other patients – this one was going to make it past Quinn’s influence.
As Isaac turned his eyes to Keeley, she solemnly nodded her affirmation.
‘He’s coming.’
***
They had agreed to give Anders a few days to come around, reasoning they’d find little opposition to their offer of self-imposed exile. It would afford them a bit of time to gather what provisions they could, but they had no illusions – inventory control was strict. They’d be hard pressed to pull together much in the way of meaningful supplies. They’d need to sweep as they went, try to tame the wicked balance of stealth with the bleak haste of smash-and-grab scavenging.
Isaac genuinely wondered if Daniel had the stomach for the wastes. Keeley wasn’t built for them, that much he knew – he had hoped to spare her from the cruelties that lie in wait outside their walls.
In the end, he realized it didn’t matter.
They’d all be party to it soon enough.
Isaac knew he couldn’t keep the lot of them safe for long, not on his own. He may have been a seasoned veteran now, but he was only one man… and still wounded at that.
They needed muscle.
Isaac never allowed himself to get particularly close with the other scavengers. Longevity wasn’t a characteristic associated with the work, and watching your friends getting torn apart was infinitely harder than some stranger.
Hence the need for some depth in their roster.
They would need someone they could trust.
Someone proven in the wasteland.
Someone that wasn’t ultimately loyal to Quinn.
Isaac puzzled through his memories, settling on but one option:
Sullivan.
***
The next few days Quinn kept his retinue close and the scavengers inside. The weather had warmed and there was an increase in the amount of ghoul activity. Many of the salvagers walked perimeter and kept the dead from bunching up at their walls as they waited for an opportunity to get back out.
The armory wasn’t issuing guns to anyone but the officials. The civilians walked the fences with knives and various implements, hacking and stabbing wherever the infected congregated. Several of those manning the fence required frequent rests. They dotted the snow as they dozed in the courtyard.
The rations were almost entirely cut; clearing the walls was taxing work. Malnourishment and exhaustion were as real a threat as the dead outside.
Each calorie burnt was dearly felt.
Sullivan tirelessly went about the grim detail. Even as those about him succumbed to exhaustion, he pushed on.
It was uneasy work. Sully only recognized a scant few of the survivors working the walls, and one among them only added to his sense of trepidation. For the last two shifts, Sully could feel Isaac’s eyes bearing down on him, scrutinizing his every movement. Isaac shadowed his every step, was seemingly around every corner.
It was unnerving.
A group of infected was pressed up against the northern fence, a few dozen yards towards the waterfront and across from where the Boardwalk used to be. They beat their fists against the chain link, their fingers clumsily grasping at it as if there were some vague compulsion to climb but their minds couldn’t fully process the notion.
Their voices rasped like the sound of churning gravel.
Sully glanced about the courtyard and saw only a handful of survivors were still upright. He had been working this lot in tandem with another survivor – a woman he didn’t know – but Sully judged by the forcefulness in her thrust she still had sufficient gas in the tank to handle those that remained in this grouping. He would start work on the northern section alone, and he plodded over to meet their threat.
Sullivan was about to take one down when he noticed Isaac approaching from the corner of his eye.
Frustrated, Sully turned back to the fence and rammed the business end of his crowbar into the eye socket of a ghoul as it feebly pawed at the fence.
‘You’ve been dogging my steps,’ Sullivan warned as Isaac entered earshot, ‘I want it to stop.’
Only a thin veil concealed the intended threat.
Isaac froze in embarrassment his attempts had been so obvious, but had little time to dwell on it.
‘Trying to catch you alone,’ he conceded. ‘Trust me, man; I would have loved the discretion, but time is a factor, here.’
Sullivan studied Isaac.
He wanted to trust him; they’d inevitably be out on a run together again. If Sully questioned his loyalties in the wasteland, they’d both be as good as dead.
Nevertheless, he had survived this long because his guard was both keen and intact – no sense abandoning that philosophy just yet.
Sullivan wiped the gore from his crowbar with a gloved hand, flicking the blood and spatter into the snow.
‘I’m listening.’
Isaac stepped to the fence and buried his blade into the forehead of a ghoul, the remnants of a lanky man that yet retained a shock of red hair.
‘We’re leaving here,’ Isaac whispered as he pulled the blade out and let the corpse slip to the ground, ‘soon.’
Sullivan stood rigid and cocked his head to the side as Isaac lined up the next ghoul at the fence
‘Who are we?’ Sully asked.
Isaac stopped and peered over his shoulder before he took another ghoul down.
‘A few of us,’ Isaac replied cryptically, examining his knife to ensure he hadn’t nicked the blade. ‘Is that really important?’
Isaac adjusted his position to line up another infected.
Sullivan clearly didn’t appreciate the secrecy; it hadn’t instilled much in the way of newfound trust.
When he didn’t reply, Isaac turned to face him.
Sully’s stare burrowed into Isaac as the dead continued to clamour against the fences.
‘I’m going to ask you a question,’ Sully began.
Isaac nodded and turned back to the fences. He was about to thrust his knife into another skull when he was brusquely spun about.
‘You’re going to look
me in the eyes when you answer me,’ Sully stated flatly.
He would gauge the truth for himself.
‘Fair enough,’ Isaac replied and met his gaze.
‘Did you know William was sent to die?’
Isaac’s features contorted a bit and his eyes narrowed.
‘How would I? Shit, how do you even know that’s what went down?’
‘I know what I fucking saw,’ Sully’s eyes flared. ‘And so do you.’
Isaac shook his head.
‘I was looking at a fucking door.’
Sully scoffed and resumed his gruesome work.
‘Listen man, I’m not asking you for me,’ Isaac pleaded over the noise of their labours, his tone growing noticeably more desperate. ‘I’m asking you for them. I can’t take them out there alone, we wouldn’t last a week.’
Sully hated to admit it, but both the message and its delivery were convincing.
He paused his work and faced Isaac again.
‘You need to tell me who is in on this.’
It was obvious that Isaac struggled with revealing the identities of his co-conspirators, but Sullivan had the upper hand. If Isaac wanted his help, he’d need to open up.
Isaac resigned himself to showing his hand.
‘Me and Keeley, one of the nurses from the infirmary,’ Isaac blurted, averting his gaze at his betrayal. ‘The Nigerian guy, Daniel’s his name.’
Isaac drew a deep breath.
‘And Anders, buddy who had his face smashed in.’
Sullivan considered the answer.
‘Quite an eclectic group,’ he replied.
Isaac managed a sarcastic smile.
Sully didn’t trust Isaac, not completely. He knew without question or debate what he had seen with Cox and William; moreover, Sully felt it in his bones. The fact Isaac wouldn’t admit to the same gnawed at his faith. It was possible Isaac didn’t have the same vantage, but surely he would have to agree the circumstantial evidence was damning enough.
Sully was convinced Cox was a coldblooded killer; wasn’t sure how long he could restrain his distrust for her.
The Decline Page 15