The Z Family dealt in sex. Early on, the heads of this family had recognized that without a central government there to hamper the sex trade, it could grow into what it had always wanted to be – an accepted and exceptionally lucrative industry. The Z Family had quickly swooped in after the flu had passed and begun to organize and advertise what remained of commerce in sex. In turn, the industry had actually become about the only portion of the free-trade market that was now well-regulated. The family ensured that any sexual transaction that was undertaken within their jurisdiction was both safe and fair for all parties involved. In the process, the ladies working for them were making out like bandits, and their clients were getting a service that was sorely needed in a world where many husbands, wives, and significant others had been claimed by the flu or other post-flu hazards.
After a time, the Z Family had even branched out into male brothels, finding that many of the ladies of the day were just as hungry to feed their sexual appetites as the men. The family also had a hand in the medical services industry, since they’d quickly realized that their prostitutes – mostly in an effort to safeguard their own health and wellbeing – were often quite adept at pinpointing health issues in their clients. And with the ranks of doctors, nurses, and other medical professionals having been decimated by the effects of the flu, medical services were in high demand and extremely valuable. It was not unusual to find someone who had worked in the medial profession – often in a lesser-trained but still knowledgeable position within the industry such as an assistant or nurse practitioner – attached to a brothel or even working as one of the prostitutes so that clients could be serviced in multiple ways during their visit. The prospects of some great sex often worked wonders to make a nasty tooth extraction or stitching a wound just a bit more bearable.
The Three Families were run by an odd combination of former businessmen and criminals, and each family had a hierarchy just like any other well-structured organization. There was a top-ranking official who served as the operational figurehead and who oversaw the planning and activities involved in the management of the family’s short as well as long-term objectives. There were directors who governed their own individual aspect of the organization – things like security, transportation, accounting, operations, and even human resources. These men and women had assistants, with managers under them, and supervisors beneath them, and so on down the line to the soldiers and peons who carried out the more menial activities and dirty work.
The heads of the Three Families met once a month to discuss operations, air grievances, and deal with conflicts or operational overlap. And up to this point, things had been working out very well for all three of the main players. They had the overall situation well organized, they had crushed any opposition, and they had managed to keep problems between the organizations to a minimum. And all three were quite content – at least at this somewhat early juncture in their expansion efforts – with the way things had been progressing. For the remaining citizens of Atlanta, it appeared that the Three Families were as close to any sort of, if not law, at least order, they were going to get.
With the Three Families being intricately involved in so much of Atlanta’s commerce, it meant that Jake had to be extremely careful when picking targets for his raids. Should he miscalculate and hit one of the family-controlled or protected supply dumps, he could very well find himself at their mercy.
If Jake ever wanted to insert himself into Atlanta’s local market, he had to ensure that he tread carefully until his own organization was large enough to take on – or at least defend against – the families. In the meantime, he was content to utilize Ava – and what he was quickly finding was her apparent knowledge of or intuition regarding business and organizational management – to help him navigate the treacherous path of expanding his operation in Atlanta.
CHAPTER 3
That night, we dosed both Paul and Dad up on medicine. We gave them antibiotics in addition to the cough and cold medicine they had already been taking. My theory was that they both had pneumonia and the antibiotics that we had available might help to keep the worst of it at bay if we started administering them immediately, although I had no way of proving my theory correct.
Claire tended to agree, but like me, she couldn’t be sure.
Whether we were right or wrong, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we kept them medicated, fed, and found them a place where they could sleep indoors, and preferably in comfortable beds – not in a dusty barn or outside in the cold – for at least a few days.
That night, we let Paul stretch out and sleep in the relative comfort the pickup truck’s cab. Thankfully, the front interior of the pickup was one long vinyl-covered seat rather two seats divided by a center console. His mother slept sitting upright in the passenger seat with him, her lap used as the boy’s pillow. She refused to be separated from him after he’d collapsed earlier in the day, and no one could blame her.
The rest of us huddled together under blankets in the bed of the pickup or in the sole remaining tent that we’d set up nearby. Temperatures hovered in the mid-50s, which made the night tolerable; however, after our previous stint at the farmhouse – brief though it was – the loss of comfortable beds and warm bedding made roughing it outside again tough to endure.
Almost all of us – except for Sharron and the kids – were up at or before dawn and ready to get on the road. We had everything packed up and strapped to the trailer behind the pickup just as the sun was making its appearance on the horizon. I think everyone was ready to find a place they could call home again. Even Cashmere, the family cat, seemed antsy to get moving and hopped up into the front of the pickup as soon as I opened the door.
“Time to get rolling,” I said softly, but as cheerily as I could to Sharron, who sat inside, eyes open, petting Paul’s head. “How’d everyone sleep?”
Sharron sat wordless, just stroking Paul’s hair as though she hadn’t even heard my words.
I looked at Paul who lay motionless, his head in her lap.
Sharron looked as though she’d been crying.
My heart leapt into my throat. Sharron refused to look at me.
“Sharron…” I said as calmly as possible, not wanting to know the answer to my forthcoming question, but having to ask, “…is Paul…”
“Mom, I want to sleep more,” Paul moaned, stirring suddenly.
I exhaled heavily, “Oh…thank god.” I put a hand to my chest and felt my heart racing. “I thought…well, never mind,” I said, shaking my head. “Tell you what, Paul. Why don’t you stay right where you are? Just lift your feet up so I can get behind the wheel, then you can put them in my lap while I drive. Okay?”
“Okay,” he mumbled, still half asleep but lifting his legs up so I could sit.
I climbed up into the cab and Paul put his legs back down on me. I started the truck and Cashmere jumped up from the floor of the pickup onto Paul’s back and nestled down atop him.
Claire brought Jason up to the front of the truck to get inside, but seeing Sharron and Paul there said, “We’ll ride in the back.”
“Thanks,” Sharron nodded appreciatively.
As I waited for Claire and Jason to get snuggled in the back with the others, I nudged Sharron and whispered, “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry,” she whispered back, “I was just so deep in thought…plus I’m exhausted. I don’t think I even heard you. I didn’t get any sleep at all last night.”
“I forgive you,” I smiled at her, just thankful that Paul was okay. “Just don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Okay,” she nodded back and gave me a tired smile.
Dad pounded the top of the pickup’s cab with a palm to signal that everyone was settled and ready and I pulled the pickup and its attached trailer out onto the road.
We drove slowly on for the remainder of the day, stopping occasionally for bathroom breaks and once to fix lunch. We made one stop to investigate a location that looked prom
ising for longer-term habitation, but a few distant gunshots aimed in our general direction from a nearby home quickly sent us on our way again. It was apparent that while the flu might have killed off a majority of the population, those who remained were still quite leery of outsiders.
By late afternoon, I was again starting to lose hope of finding a good spot that we could call home.
Suddenly there was a knock on the pickup’s back window. It was Will.
I swiveled in my seat, reaching back to unlatch the small sliding window that opened from the pickup’s cab to the rear bed.
“What’s up?” I asked, lifting my foot from the accelerator pedal to slow our speed and reduce engine noise so that I could hear him better.
“I have a thought,” he said.
“Well, let’s hear it, because I’m out of them right now.”
“I’ve been looking at the map,” he continued. “There’s a small town coming up in a few miles. It looks to be off the beaten track a bit. Might be worth checking out.”
“Long as we don’t get shot at again,” I said. “That’s getting old.”
“My ass and I agree,” he laughed.
“How far?” I asked.
“Looks like about another ten miles before the turnoff. We should make it well before sundown.”
“It’s worth a shot,” I said.
My spirits picked up slightly at the proposition of investigating a new site, but the realistic side of me kept my expectations in check. We’d been down this road before. I knew that the chances of finding a small town that was completely uninhabited and suitable for us to live in were slim. Finding one that was inhabited and welcoming to outsiders was even more remote. Still, we had to try.
About a half hour later, we were nearing the outskirts of the town of Olsten – if you could call it a town. Upon first glance, Olsten appeared to be more of a village than a town. And upon second glance, it appeared to be even less than that. It actually kind of reminded me of the tiny town of Avers, back in southern Illinois where Joanna and Shane had joined us. Olsten looked to be little more than a few houses nestled in close proximity to one another and joined together by a few small businesses.
I stopped the pickup just short of what appeared to be the town’s miniscule business district. I could see several larger buildings and then some houses sprinkled throughout the area just past them. After our previous encounters in new locations, I didn’t want to be hasty in my assessment regarding the town’s safety, and I definitely didn’t want to take the entire clan into the danger zone if it could be helped.
“Hang tight here for a minute,” I told Sharron and Paul. Paul was awake now but still lay resting on his mother’s lap. She wouldn’t allow him to sit up even if he wanted to, which he did.
“Can I come?” he asked, looking at me and then up at his mother.
“Sorry partner,” I said. “You need to stay here and rest and get better.”
He frowned and said dejectedly, “Aw man.”
I was just happy to see that he was feeling better.
I got out of the pickup and went around back to get Ray.
“Want to come check things out with me?” I asked.
“Heck yeah,” he jumped up. “Anything to stretch my legs for a minute,” he grabbed his rifle and hopped down from the trailer. “My ass is sore as hell after riding in that bumpy trailer all day.”
We walked the brief distance down the center of the road leading into town toward where the cluster of buildings that comprised Olsten’s miniscule downtown sat.
This little business district consisted of two buildings on each side of the street. To our right, there was an empty – and by empty, I mean not just devoid of people after the flu but devoid of any occupying businesses before it – two-story brick building that looked to be on its last leg and ready to collapse at a moment’s notice. Beside it sat an aged three-story wood structure that appeared once to have served as the area’s general store. The building came complete with covered wood-plank front porch where a multitude of various vintage and antique signs were affixed to its exterior. An old soda machine and newspaper stand sat on one side of the porch. Across the street from these structures was a tiny post office and a small one-story building that, according to its sign, had once served as “Mary’s Diner & Thrift Shop.”
“Interesting combination of businesses,” I said to Ray, nodding to the diner and thrift shop sign.
“Guess people do what they can to make a buck in a town this size…” he said, “…or at least they used to,” he added.
“Yeah,” I agreed somewhat absently and not really listening to what Ray was saying because I was so intent on watching for signs of movement and listening for the sound of gunshots.
We kept walking on past the buildings to where the street we were on intersected with a small paved side street. “Oak Street” its sign read. On past this a ways we came to a dusty gravel side street. Its street sign read, “Maple Drive.”
A few houses were scattered among the two streets. It appeared that they had once been nice little homes but they hadn’t endured the effects of time and weather well. I had a feeling that their worn looking condition had begun to take hold well before the flu had ever struck.
Most of the homes were wood sided, and the majority of them looked to be well-constructed little bungalow-style structures. I would guess that most had been built somewhere between the late-19th and early part of the 20th century. The paint on most of them was peeling. Several had porches that angled slightly to one side. A few of the yards were ringed with small stone walls that leaned precariously out toward the sidewalk in spots. The yards themselves were overgrown and small trees had begun sprouting up in several. We counted a total of seven of the single-family homes. Several lots where the previous house had either burned or been torn down were now occupied by mobile homes.
After this residential area, the main road through town continued, but the land reverted to scrubby brush-filled fields and woodlands.
We stopped at the edge of town and turned around. I could see our pickup truck sitting in the middle of the road about a half mile away. “Not much to see, is there?” I said to Ray.
“Nope,” he agreed.
“Time to take a chance?” I asked, looking at him.
He shrugged, “Guess so.”
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “HELLLLOOO!!!” I yelled as loudly as I could, my voice echoing through and around the tiny town. “HELLLLOOO!!!” I called again after several seconds. Then I raised my rifle at an angle and fired off a single round. We stood waiting for another minute. No one appeared from any of the homes or businesses. “Just wanted to be sure,” I said, giving Ray a shrug.
“Doesn’t mean no one’s here,” said Ray.
“I know,” I agreed. “We’ll have to go structure by structure to be sure. Tell you what, let’s walk back to the pickup and get the others who are able to help us.” I paused, thinking, and then smiled, “Guess, that won’t be many at this point. Let’s see, Claire can come with me. Joanna can go with you. Otherwise everybody else is either too young, too sick, too injured, or too pregnant.”
Ray nodded, “Yeah, our list of able bodies is really starting to dwindle. We need a place like this to be able to recoup and hide out for a while.”
“Or maybe longer,” I said hopefully.
We walked back to where the others had stayed with the truck. They watched us with curiosity. I noted some signs of anticipation as they waited for an indication of what our next move would be.
“Looks like a decent spot,” I said, loudly enough for all to hear as we stopped beside the pickup. “Seems like the place is deserted, but we’ll have to check the surrounding homes and businesses to be sure. We don’t want any unpleasant surprises as we’re settling in.” I looked around at the group. “Claire, Joanna, we’ll need your help to check things out. You up for it?”
They both nodded that they were.
“Good,” I said,
as I rummaged inside the cab of the truck and brought out two flashlights, one of which I tossed to Ray. “Claire, you’re with me.”
“I’m with Ray,” Joanna interjected before I could get it out.
“Yes, you’re with Ray,” I said. “We’ll start on this end of town, each team taking a side. We’ll hit the businesses first, regroup back here, and then check the homes. Keep your eyes peeled and be ready. That goes for the rest of you to,” I added, looking at those who sat in the truck.
Before we got started, I pulled the truck and trailer a short distance back down “Main Street” as I was now calling it, and off to one side behind a large grove of trees in order to give the rest of our group some cover. I set Dad and Will up on guard duty – Will taking a stationary position near the truck while Dad roamed the perimeter – and made sure that Sharron and Pam were also armed.
Before we began our search, we stopped out on Main Street between the two sets of business buildings where I told Ray and Joanna, “Be careful, but also be on the lookout for anything of use. You guys know what we need, so I won’t go through the list. If you do come across something, you don’t have to take it right now; just be sure to make a mental note of what and where it was if you decide not to bring it along. We can come back later and collect it when we have time should everything pan out alright here.”
“Will do,” Ray agreed.
The Systemic Series - Box Set Page 61