FORSAKEN: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES

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FORSAKEN: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES Page 16

by Callahan, K. W.


  After we finished our morning meals – which had largely consisted of slices of bread and pieces of apple pie that Sharron had been churning out, and which, for better or worse, had as of late become regular staples of our diet – Claire pulled me aside.

  “Will you watch Jason for a few minutes while I run over to Mary’s? I noticed that he needs a few more pairs of shorts, and I need to look for another pair of shoes for him?”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said. “We’ll hang out here on the front porch and play with toys. Sound good, buddy?” I asked him.

  Jason looked up at me from the piece of pie he’d been working on; a bit of crust stuck to the side of his face. “Trucks with daddy! Yay!”

  “Guess it’s fine with him too,” I smiled at Claire.

  She waited as I took our dishes inside and came back out carrying a bucketful of dusty and dirt-covered metal and plastic toy cars, trucks, haulers, and assorted heavy equipment. I dumped them out on the porch and Jason dove in, immediately sorting them into piles that I’m sure made sense to him, but to which I could assign no such order.

  “I won’t be long,” Claire called behind her as she made her way down the front porch steps and across the street to the resale shop.

  The others were busy taking their plates inside, cleaning up after breakfast, and getting ready for work out in the garden, which was now coming along quite nicely and starting to repay our efforts with a sizeable selection of harvestable items.

  “I’ll be out to help as soon as Claire gets back,” I called after Sharron as she headed inside.

  Soon, Jason and I were alone on the porch. He had designated a small pile of the crummiest vehicles for me to play with while he kept the majority for himself, shoving them about haphazardly while making puttering, revving, and vrooming motor noises.

  After just a few minutes of this, from the corner of my eye, I noticed movement.

  It was Claire.

  She stopped halfway across the street, beckoning me to her with a hand.

  I didn’t want to leave Jason alone, so I said to him, “Oops, looks like mommy wants us buddy. Come on, she probably needs you to try on some shoes.”

  “Awww,” he moaned. “No shoes. I go barefoot.”

  “Sorry partner; got to have shoes,” I told him, standing from my pathetic pile of toy junkers and clunkers. “Let’s go,” I took him by the hand.

  Claire waited as we made it down the front porch steps.

  “Something’s wrong,” she whispered as we approached.

  “What do you mean?” I said, instantly alert.

  “I think someone’s been in Mary’s,” she continued to whisper. “I mean…besides us. Come on,” she turned. “I’ll show you.”

  “Hold on,” I said, grabbing her hand, handing Jason over to her, and then feeling around behind me for the .44 that I always kept in my waistband now. After our previous encounters, it was almost a part of me. Instead of carrying a wallet with cash, credit cards and identification, I now just carried a handgun. “Are you sure no one’s in there right now?”

  I didn’t want her – and especially Jason – following me into a potentially dangerous situation.

  “Yes,” she said. “I looked all around. No one’s there. It might just have been an animal…I’m not really sure.”

  She led us around back to the building’s rear entrance. The back door was standing wide open. We walked inside and into the main display room of the resale shop. Clothing was strewn all over the place. Shirts and pants were scattered across the floor or lay in disheveled piles of disarray upon tables and shelves.

  “We didn’t leave it this way the last time we were in here,” said Claire. “And I’m almost positive we closed the door behind us.” She paused and said nervously, hopefully, “You think an animal could have found its way inside and done this?”

  I looked around at the array of clothing that had been scattered about the space. My mind immediately flashed to the tracks at the pond and I wondered if it was the same person or people who had done this.

  “I mean, I guess animals are a possibility,” I said, not really believing it. “But I don’t really think it’s probable. Raccoons are mischievous, but their damage is usually done in the hunt for food, not a new pair of shoes or some summer duds. This looks more like people to me. You sure you guys didn’t go wild and leave the place torn up like this on your drunken shopping extravaganza, or that maybe one of you didn’t sneak back over here on your own?”

  “I know we didn’t leave the place like this,” she gestured around her. “Society may have crumbled, but we haven’t all reverted to Neanderthals just yet. As for one of the others coming back in search of something, I guess it’s possible, but I can’t see anyone in our group doing something like this.” She looked at me and shrugged, “Joanna maybe?”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged back. “She could have been upset about leaving or just needed to find something in a hurry and didn’t care how she left the place. I don’t really see that in her, but I guess you never know.”

  I bent and picked up a couple shirts off the floor and put them on a nearby table. I turned and walked to the back door and pulled it closed, hearing its latch click shut.

  Claire and Jason followed, standing close behind me.

  “And you’re sure you guys closed the door behind you after your shopping trip?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “I think so. I can’t really remember. We were all talking, and we were already feeling our pre-shopping drinks, so I don’t know if anyone was really paying that much attention. I’m pretty sure we did, but I can’t be positive.”

  I nodded, understanding. “Well, I guess we can’t rule out animals completely then, although I have to say, I think it’s pretty unlikely. Hopefully, if it was people, they got what they needed and moved along.”

  “You think we should tell the others?” Claire asked hesitantly.

  I thought about it for a minute. “I mean, let’s say it was people. They didn’t bother us. They had their opportunity, I mean they were right across the street, and apparently they didn’t do anything more than rummage through the clothes and leave them in a mess. And we can’t say for sure that it wasn’t one of our own.”

  I thought more about it and then said, “I think we should ask around casually and see if anyone has been over here. Just bring up whether anyone has come over recently for clothes, and see where it goes. If it was one of our people, then we’ve got nothing to worry about. If it wasn’t; well, then I guess we’ll just have to keep a more watchful eye on things. I don’t want to go freaking everyone out over nothing; but at the same time, I don’t want to let this get out of hand if it is outsiders. I don’t want it becoming another Tipton where people start getting the idea that they can take advantage of us and steal our shit.”

  “Okay,” Claire said. “I’ll mention it individually among the women and see if Joanna said anything about coming over here before she left.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, picking up Jason. “Now let’s find this guy some shorts and new shoes.”

  * * *

  Over the subsequent days, we subtly questioned the rest of the group about Mary’s without raising any concerns over our inquiries. We had picked up and reorganized the resale shop before leaving and had closed the door behind us – ensuring that it was latched – to help us better watch for future trespassers. However, there were no indications that any in our group had made the mess, and we saw no other signs of people rummaging around inside Mary’s in the days following our departure; therefore, our concerns began to dissipate and the event gradually fade from our minds – that is until about three weeks later.

  As July faded to August, our garden was doing fantastic. The corn was ready to pick and nearly every other vegetable we’d tended was either ready or already providing us with harvestable bounty. This was also the period during which we’d been using the most water for our crops. Putting a further strain on our dwindling water supply, I�
�d quietly been filling almost every available sealable water container we had with clean drinking water to act as a reserve against the pond – which was just a few feet from empty now – running out completely. Without rain, I gave the pond about another week.

  Everyone was excited about the prospects of a good harvest and the chance to hopefully get a little bit ahead in building up our food stocks so that we could begin drying and canning in preparation for winter. We’d already been able to put nearly a dozen jars each of stewed apples and tomatoes aside, as well as several containers of pickles and canned peaches. Sharron had made several jars of apple butter that we hoped to spread on her delicious bread throughout the winter. Our flour supply was holding out, but it was nice to know that we could use ground corn to supplement our supply if necessary, making corn tortillas, muffins, and cornbread out of any extra we had.

  Things seemed to be coming together nicely.

  That’s why when Sharron came running inside early one morning hollering about there being tracks in the garden, we were all taken by surprise, most of us figuring that she was referring to animal tracks – but she wasn’t.

  We all followed her out the back door to see what the commotion was all about.

  “Bastards!” Sharron exclaimed, pointing at several of her green pepper plants that had been ransacked of their bounty. “These were loaded with peppers! Now look at them! Gone! All of them gone!”

  Then she walked over to where several stalks of corn were missing from a row. “And here!” she pointed angrily. “They didn’t just take a couple ears, they took the entire plant! The…entire…plant!” she repeated in astonishment.

  We scouted the area, finding a number of tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash missing as well.

  “There are footprints between the rows; that’s how I know it wasn’t animals,” she said. “Look! Our people never walk on the ground between the rows, they know better, but here…” she pointed around the rows of corn, “…and here, you can see where they trampled the area right around the base of the stalks. You can see their footprints!”

  I took a deep breath.

  “I think it’s time for a meeting,” I said. “Let’s all head to the front porch.”

  Everyone followed as I led them around to the front porch where some of us took seats and others stood. Jason sat on Claire’s lap. I almost felt like we were reliving our experience in Tennessee all over again. Just as we started to get everything settled and situated and things going the way we wanted, strangers began invading our territory. I just hoped that here in Olsten, we’d be able to avoid the same final result that we encountered in Tipton.

  Once everyone was situated and quiet, I began to speak.

  “First off, I want everyone to stay calm about this,” I said.

  “Easy for you to say,” said Sharron, who was on the verge of tears. “I’ve put my heart into growing that garden.”

  “I know you have,” I said compassionately. “We all have, but especially you; and I know how much the garden means to you. But we can’t lose our heads about this. It might have just been a passer-by who was in need of food and was too frightened to ask us for it. We all know how people have changed since the flu. Not everyone is like us. Remember Tennessee? If others have had encounters similar to ours, they could be extremely wary of meetings with other people.” I took a breath. “That being said, I’ve seen tire tracks other than our own out by the pond.”

  “What?!” cried Will. “And you didn’t tell us?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone out there, just the tracks,” I defended myself. “And who am I…are we…to say that water supply belongs solely to us? For all we know, we could be trespassing on someone else’s land, taking their water, and they’ve been allowing it all this time. So who knows, it could be the same people. Maybe they feel they’re owed something for our water use.”

  “Doesn’t mean they can just waltz in here and take without asking,” Sharron pouted.

  “Why? We have…if it is their water,” said Ray.

  “It’s all conjecture at this point,” dad chimed in. “We don’t know who it was, how many of them there were, or what type of person or people they are.”

  “Your father’s right,” agreed Emily. “I think we need to keep our cool about this but be safe at the same time. We could set up a watch system again, like we had back in Tennessee. Maybe it’d help us catch these people and talk to them so we can at least find out who they are. They might even be willing to work with us. They could have valuable information about the area and be able to help us find more water nearby. I mean, they haven’t shot at us yet or anything.”

  I nodded in agreement. “That’s smart thinking,” I said. “But there’s something else.” Everyone fell silent, waiting for the other boot to drop. They could tell it from my voice. “A few weeks ago, Claire and I went to Mary’s resale shop. It looked like someone had been there. The back door was open and clothing had been strewn around.”

  “You didn’t tell us that either?” Will said, his face showing astonishment combined with disappointment. “Big bro, come on. You’re faltering here. You’ve got to keep us in the know. You could be endangering us all by not telling us this kind of stuff.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But we just weren’t sure. We didn’t know if an animal had gotten inside and made the mess or maybe it had been one of our own group.”

  “That’s why you were asking us about being over there a while back,” Pam said to Claire. “I remember thinking it was a weird question, but I figured you were just getting desperate for topics of conversation. Now I get it,” she nodded.

  “We thought that maybe one of you or one of the kids had gotten in there and made the mess, although we figured it wasn’t likely since we aren’t the kind of people to do that sort of thing,” I explained. “Then we thought that maybe it was done by Joanna when she left, that she might have been upset or in a hurry to find some last-minute clothes for Shane. We just weren’t sure, and it didn’t seem like a huge deal at the time. Who are we to say that all those clothes are ours? And whoever or whatever it was hadn’t bothered us in any way, so we kind of let it go. Now, it’s a different story though. The clothing incident and the tracks at the pond, now paired with this garden theft, well…it changes things.”

  “So we’re going to be back on guard duty again at night?” asked dad.

  “Looks that way,” I sighed. “We should keep the kids close to home too. Paul,” I looked over at the young man, “we all appreciate your squirrel hunting efforts, but I think it’s time to call it quits for a while. At least until we know what’s going on with these outsiders and what sorts of people we’re dealing with.”

  “Awww…alright,” he agreed glumly.

  Will patted his dejected son on the shoulder, gave him a proud smile and then ruffled his hair.

  “Since Joanna has left us, we’ll have one less person to help with taking watches. Therefore, we’ll break the nights up into two shifts. This will help alleviate the strain on everyone. Each couple will get a night. Claire and I will start off tonight unless anyone has any objections. You guys can figure out who takes watches after that. Sound good?”

  Everyone solemnly agreed. I could feel the tension back in the air now. It sucked. For a few wonderful weeks, things had been about as good as I could have imagined them. But now it seemed like we were back in the endless cycle in which we arrived to a location and worked hard to settle in and make it our own only to find ourselves disturbed by outsiders. It was getting old, and I could only hope that this time would be different.

  Chapter 18

  The days following the gas station attack saw multiple reports come in from patrols that Jake had sent out as well as from various contacts he had around town. Word on the street was that the Three Families were well aware of what had happened, who was responsible, and that they were planning to extract their revenge.

  The question was, when?

  Neither Jake nor Ava had t
he answer, but as long as they had some time left to prepare before the attack came, they were going to make the most of it.

  In one of their first steps, Ava took several guys and went hunting for druggies. Pickings were slim though. Word had even filtered down to the lowlifes of the world that Jake and Ava were on the Families’ shit list and that their days in Atlanta were probably numbered. Ava only managed to come up with a total of seven addicts to whom she offered food, a place to sleep, and of course, their poison of choice in return for their temporary loyalty.

  They converted a portion of the pump station’s downstairs into a sort of flop house where they pulled in extra mattresses, a few folding chairs, and two card tables. They also set several five-gallon buckets around the room in an effort to absorb some of addicts’ various bodily functions. These guys crapped, pissed, vomited, and otherwise made revolting messes pretty much wherever they pleased, so it didn’t take long for a severe stench to build inside the room. It disgusted Ava, and she told the guard they’d posted outside the room to keep the druggies from running off to make sure the door remained closed at all times.

  As part of their plan to preserve their defensive assets, Ava had convinced Jake to remove the Strykers from the property and hold them in reserve at a secret location. Should the pump station be overrun, she explained, they risked losing the vehicles before they could utilize them in their full capacity. By moving them to a safer location, Ava hoped that they could bring them to bear at a critical point in the fight to turn the tide or at least to evacuate any survivors to safety.

  Under the cover of darkness, they slipped their precious armor from the shelter of the nearby shed to a location where they could be hidden in several abandoned garages about a half mile behind the pump station. It was a risk not having them immediately on site as part of their frontline defenses, but Ava was afraid having them there would open them up to the immediate and full force of any attack and the potential for them to be captured and then used against them. It would only take the Strykers two or three minutes to reach them from their new location when called, and they would act as a sort of mobile reserve. It fell to Fallback Man and Steel Will – along with two other men assigned to them – to secure and maintain the vehicles in states of readiness until they were needed. They bunked down inside the armored vehicles themselves and were told to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. They could be reached via radio communication when the situation called for it. Ava had made sure that the Strykers were stocked with enough food, water, guns and ammo for the men to hold out for at least a week without returning to the pump station.

 

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