It wasn’t until day five that Dan finally complained about the smell. So she allowed him to place the stinking thing in the hallway before she dropped off a clean one she’d found. After dropping off the clean bucket, she held her nose and kicked the soiled one down to the end of the hallway, as far away from the lounge as she could muster before the dizziness caught up with her. Someone, presumably Dan, had barred the doors permanently, or else she would have kicked the retched mess outside.
In the old days, everyone had been afforded modesty about things like bodily fluids and bowel movements. Now, those days were a distant memory. Everyone shits, everyone stinks, and everyone dies. The circle of life. She almost laughed out loud at the thought.
On the sixth day she found that she could keep down some of the food she attempted to eat; at most three or four bites at a time. Not a feast, but better than nothing. She could feel some of her strength returning, and the hammering in her chest abated, at least a little. Her ticker had been working overtime for a while now as it struggled to fight whatever virus had taken refuge in her body.
By now she’d kept Dan locked inside a smelly room for nearly a week with only a blanket to sleep on and a single bowl of beef stew per day. Not the most comfortable of conditions, but she had to take precautions. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would need to keep him locked up, but one thing was certain; she couldn’t let him out while she was still so weak. The fever had left town, but the effects it wreaked on her body remained. She still spent most of her days parked on the couch, reading books from the pastor’s collection and getting up only for bathroom breaks.
As the end of her sixth day at Pastor Dan’s little compound approached, the sun hung like a burning candle above the horizon, casting an orange glow into the lounge.
Feeding time.
Lilly forced herself up from the couch. She found the supply room and opened another can of beef stew, dumping the contents into a bowl. She filled another plastic pitcher with water from a large cooler. The guy really did have a hell of a set up here.
With the .38 in her back pocket, she headed down to the pastor’s room, bowl and pitcher in hand.
Chapter Fifteen
“You know the drill,” Lilly said. “Back up against that wall.”
Dan did know the drill. For six days now she’d had him repeat it and he’d complied each day. He walked to the far wall and placed his back against it before putting his hands on his head.
Lilly peered in through the door’s window, watching until she was satisfied. A jangle of the keys sounded as the door knob turned and she stepped inside the room, pistol in one hand and a bowl in the other.
“What’s on the menu today?” Dan asked. “Let me guess, beef stew?”
The girl didn’t reply. Instead, she swapped the full bowl for the empty, returning to the hallway to get the fresh pitcher of water.
“You look better,” Dan said as Lilly stepped back into the room. “The color’s come back in your skin.”
She looked at him suspiciously but declined to comment.
“Just saying.”
Lilly placed the pitcher down on the table and picked up the empty before turning back toward the door.
“Sorry about the smell in here,” Dan said.
She stopped and turned to him. “Why would you apologize for that? I’m the one who locked you up in here.”
Dan shrugged. “Seemed proper.”
Lilly frowned. “Apologies are for the weak.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dan said. “Apologies are for the strong.”
The girl’s face remained stoic.
Dan kept trying. “Did you finish the pills?”
“Maybe.”
“Good.” Dan smiled. “We got lucky that the bug you got was bacterial. It’s the viruses that are the real buggers.”
“Where’s my pack?” Lilly asked.
“What pack?”
“The one I had on me when you kidnapped me.”
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“You brought me here against my will.”
Dan chuckled. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m the one who gave you a place to stay and the medicine that likely saved your life. And for my trouble, you locked me up. At gunpoint, no less.”
Lilly glanced down at the pistol in her hand. “I have to take precautions.”
“Don’t you think that if I was going to hurt you, I would have already done it?”
“Depends on what kind of hurting you planned to put on me. Maybe you needed me to be in better shape before you decided to do your dirty little deeds on me.”
Dan frowned, his brow furrowed. “I would never do that to anyone.”
Lilly watched him carefully, looking into his eyes. “So you say.”
“And so I do. I’m a man of God, you know.”
“What does that mean? You think you have some kind of lease on morality because you know some passages out of an old book? That doesn’t make you any better than me.”
“Never said it did.”
“Plenty of you so-called men of God did some ungodly things to people.”
“I can’t deny that,” Dan said. “Morality doesn’t come from a book. It comes from inside. I don’t put much faith in that old book anyway. Too many logic holes. But the parables are decent enough to get the point across.”
Lilly frowned. “Just can it.”
“Sure,” Dan said.
Lilly sighed. “Why are you so agreeable to everything?”
“Given the circumstances, I don’t have much choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“Maybe I’m choosing to grin and bear it.”
“So now you’re Job, eh? Divinity through suffering?”
“You do know a little bit about that old book after all, eh?”
Lilly watched him for some time, the frown never leaving her face. “I’ll pick up the bucket again tomorrow.”
Then she left the room, locking the door behind her.
Dan listened as her footfalls echoed down the hall until nothing but the sound of the wickedly silent room remained.
Chapter Sixteen
A knock sounded at the door, pulling Dan’s attention away from the window. He’d been staring at a strange cloud of dark smoke rising and dissipating into the air. It looked very far away, but also gigantic. A burning building could produce a fire large enough to belch that much smoke into the air. Sometimes buildings still caught fire naturally; probably would for years to come.
Still, he didn’t like it.
Dan assumed the position for the seventh time now. A week in his smelly jail cell had already become his normal state of being. Amazing how quickly humans adapted to their surroundings.
The jangling of keys announced Lilly’s entrance, again with a bowl of stew in hand. He had to admit he was getting a little tired of the repetition. He had a decent variety of canned food in the place. Maybe some chicken noodle or cream of potato could get on the menu next time.
“Beef stew again, I assume?”
Lilly remained silent.
“If you’re going to keep me here permanently, maybe you could change up the menu a bit. I like beef stew and all, but enough’s enough.”
Lilly paused, the empty bowl in hand. “Finally sticking up for yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe I’ll see if I can find you something else then.”
“While you’re at it, you could tell me what you plan to do with me.”
Lilly only stared at him.
“I’ve been a model prisoner. You can’t argue that,” Dan said. “I deserve parole.”
Lilly regarded him suspiciously. “What kind of preacher are you?”
“I don’t really have a denomination. I always thought that was silly. My dad did, though. Baptist. Fire and brimstone. He had his own church and everything. He preached right up to the end, even as the carriers tore down the doors and ate his flock alive.”
Dan studied Lilly as she listened, marveling at the dichotomy of between her hard face and soft eyes. There was something else behind them, something altogether different than what she allowed to show on the surface.
She didn’t leave, so he continued. “I was there when it happened. Not sure how I survived. Dumb luck, I suppose.”
“It wasn’t the grace of God? Isn’t that what you people like to think?”
Dan shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s not like God explains things to me. I like to think that he saved me for a reason, but there’s no way to know really.”
“Then what’s the point in your religion at all? Sounds like a lot of overhead to apply to simple luck.”
“I guess it boils down to meaning. The universe might be random, but I like to think that there’s a plan tucked away in there somewhere.”
“The world doesn’t work the way you’d like it to.”
“Can’t argue with you there.”
A pause passed between them. After a few moments, Lilly continued. “You were there when your father was killed?”
“Afraid so. Both he and my Momma met their end that day.”
“That’s a shame.”
Dan nodded. “He was doing what he loved, I suppose. And my momma alway supported him, right up to the end. They were together at least.”
“You’ll pardon me if I’m not too trusting of religious types.”
“Bad experience?”
Lilly paused for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. “Something like that.”
“There are some bad ones out there, for sure.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dan nodded. “Okay, sure. What do you want to talk about?”
“Who says I want to talk about anything?”
Dan shrugged. “Just figured.”
Lilly changed the subject. “What’s your story? How’d you end up here? You some kind of prepper or something?”
“Hardly. I stumbled upon this place. Somebody left it in a hurry. More dumb luck.”
“You seem to be a lucky guy.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“One might say too lucky,” Lilly continued. “Lots of coincidences with you.”
“You’ll take whatever meaning you want from it.”
“I will,” Lilly said. She disappeared back into the hallway, returning with a book in hand. Without a word, she tossed it on the floor and slipped back out the door, locking it behind her.
Her footfalls echoed through the hall, diminishing as she retreated, leaving Dan to ponder his future for another day.
But at least now he had something to read.
Chapter Seventeen
Boyd and the crew passed a decrepit old gas station about a mile after the Dogpile choking incident. He exited the two-lane road on which they traveled. The side roads were typically less congested than the highways, but the slower travel ate up the gasoline. At some point, the gas wouldn’t be useful anymore, once it turned to sludge in the gas tanks.
But that was a tomorrow problem. Their today problem was finding a goddamn candy bar to pacify Andre the Giant.
A search of the gas station turned up jack shit, just like Boyd knew it would. Reality be damned, Boyd found himself back on the road again, in search of the elusive candy bar. Like trying to find those Wonka golden tickets Boyd remembered from reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in second grade.
They passed another gas station a mile down the road, but fire had reduced the structure to a charred hulk. Even Tony knew there would be no chance of finding anything but charcoal inside.
“Candy bar!” Moose bellowed. “Candy bar!”
Boyd frowned. They couldn’t find that candy bar soon enough. And I hope you fucking choke on it, you cow.
A half-mile later, they came upon a the vandalized remains of an Aldi.
“Stop here,” Tony said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Moose exclaimed. “Top here!”
Boyd slowed the van as instructed, bringing it to a stop in the parking lot. He studied the building with interest. Empty window frames stared back at him, broken glass jutting from the edges like jagged teeth. Various graffiti covered the building’s facade like bad tattoos. REPENT! one of the tags read. THE END IS NERE!
Even Boyd knew how to spell the word near. And the end wasn’t just near, baby, it had arrived.
BLAME THE FAGS! another one read. Beside that, CAPTAIN TRIPS WAS AN INSIDE JOB.
HUNGRY? another tag read, EAT MORE PUSSY.
Boyd almost chuckled out loud at that one. Even after the end of the world, some people still knew how to tell a joke.
“What are you waiting for?” Tony asked.
Boyd realized he’d lost himself in thought while staring at the building. Not a good idea; with a guy like Tony around you never wanted to let your guard down.
Boyd grabbed his 9mm, killed the engine, and opened the driver’s side door, hopping out onto the pavement. He surveyed the area as Tony exited the van and opened the side door, allowing the crew in the back to get out. As usual, Moose ran to Tony’s side like a puppy to its owner.
Boyd grinned. He was really going to get a kick out of killing that nitwit.
The way proved clear of carriers. A man had to be blind to not notice the decline in their numbers of the past year or so. With any luck, they’d die off completely. Boyd had to admit that he kinda liked the post-virus world. No cops, no rules, no fucking income tax returns. Not that he’d ever filed a tax return. His line of work before the virus wasn’t something you reported to the government.
Boyd gripped the nine a little tighter as he took his first step toward the building. Tony and Moose followed, with Dogpile and Patel bringing up the rear. Boyd in the lead, ready to take the flak while Tony and his trained gorilla hung back. He didn’t like that one bit. Tony had been a good leader for a while, collecting and uniting their group of misfits. They ate regularly, partied like maniacs, and fucked until their dicks hurt.
But Tony was fucking losing it. The power had gone to his head, and now he was damn near intolerable. He was a goddamn kid, after all. A fucking brat with a taste for blood.
Something had to be done.
As Boyd stepped into the decrepit building, he wondered if maybe that time had finally come.
Chapter Eighteen
When Lilly’s appetite returned, it did so in grand fashion. What had been only a minor rumbling in her gut in the week before had now transformed into a nagging growl, followed by hunger pangs like she’d never felt before. She gulped down bowls of soup and stew. She gnawed on beef jerky. She explored plain white packages that looked like dried rations army guys would carry in their packs. Turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and more. Just add water.
It was some of the most delicious food she’d ever tasted.
But on day nine of her stay at the good pastor’s residence, the water situation became dangerous. It was running out, and she had no idea where to get more.
During the morning feeding of her incarcerated host, she interrogated Dan as to where he’d procured his water supply. To her surprise, he didn’t even try to leverage her need to his advantage. No cutting of deals for release or anything like that. Maybe that was because he was a good guy. Or, more likely, he knew that when the water ran out for her, it also ran out for him, so he had a vested interest in telling her where to get more.
According to Dan, a substantial creek flowed a couple of hundred yards from where the school sat. Dan had five coolers lined up, the orange kind with the push button nozzles, all filled with water he’d collected and subsequently boiled. He’d been insistent that she boil the water. She listened, but she already knew this. It only took one bout of Giardia to burn that lesson into one’s brain forever.
As she stood in front of the empty coolers, she considered the amount of work it was going to take to collect, boil, and refill them. She’d regained some of her strength, sure, but making dozens upon d
ozens of trips with small buckets, only to then boil the water over a fire she had to build, would simply be too taxing.
She needed help. And she was pretty damn sure that her prisoner wouldn’t mind getting a bit of fresh air. It could be dangerous allowing him out, but as long as she kept the pistol, she had the advantage.
And if she had to shoot him? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d shot somebody, after all.
Pushing that thought from her mind, she looked out the dirty window of the teachers’ lounge. The sun was well into its descent on the horizon, giving her only a few hours before nightfall. Too late to start today. Maybe tomorrow.
As the smell of rotting meat and the sound of carrier screams wafted into the room, she thought she’d get to the bottom of that mystery tomorrow as well.
She glanced at the dirty bowl she’d retrieved from Dan’s room earlier in the day. She fed him in the mornings, much like her husband, Jason, had fed the family dog back in the days before the virus wiped out everything. It had been a while since she thought of her husband. Like clockwork, the memories brought back that old familiar pain.
And, on the heels of that, came the memories of Timmy.
She closed her eyes hard, forcing the thoughts of her son from her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to go down that gut-wrenching path.
She glanced at the pistol lying on the table in center of the teachers’ lounge.
One pull of the trigger is all it would take. Then the pain would go away for good.
She walked to the pistol and picked it up. It felt heavy in her hand. She looked down the barrel, staring at it for a long time. It wouldn’t be fair to the preacher, leaving him to starve to death in that room, though. Or did it even matter? There seemed little point these days in prolonging the inevitable. Lilly sometimes wondered if the ones who died were the lucky ones. She didn’t believe in God; not anymore, at least. Nor did she believe in magic or fairy tales, but she had a feeling that the virus had been humanity’s destiny. Nature’s way of purging the planet of her toxic human hosts.
Badlands Trilogy (Novella): Redemption In the Badlands Page 4