American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow

by Davis IV, John L.

  American Revenant:

  Settlers and Sorrow

  By John L. Davis IV

  American Revenant: Settlers and Sorrow

  Copyright 2015 © John L. Davis IV

  All rights reserved by the author.

  Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art, design, and layout courtesy of Emily Royal at indigo.imagedesign@gmail.com, https://www.facebook.com/emily.jemphotographics.

  Dedications

  So many have had an impact on

  the writing of this book.

  It would take several pages

  just to name them all.

  For Erica, Astrid, and Hannah, always.

  Mom and Dad, thanks for believing.

  Barry, thanks again.

  To all those I’ve met through

  The wide world of the inter-webs, I thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright Page

  Dedications

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Winters Passing

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Thanks and Things

  Chapter 1

  “Jimmy, you still carry that whistle”?

  Jimmy pulled the orange survival whistle out of his pocket, showing it to Gordy.

  “Blow it, three blasts, and wait a moment. Keep blowing it in bursts, for a couple of minutes. It’ll take Mike and me a few minutes to make it back to camp. I want them to have an early warning if they can hear it; they should be able to.

  Mike began walking in the direction of the camp, but Gordy stood for another moment watching up the river.

  “When you can see those boats clearly without the binoculars head back to camp. We may need all hands for this.”

  Jimmy thought for a moment, then told his friends, “I guess we should always be expecting trouble now. Shitty way to live. I’ll be back to camp soon.”

  Gordy turned, moving toward Mike who had stopped to wait for him. He jumped at the first shrill blast of Jimmy’s whistle, shook his head and kept walking.

  Normally Mike would have laughed, poking fun at Gordy for jumping at the bleat of the whistle, but the tension of the moment pushed out any thoughts of humor.

  The two men walked briskly, picking their path with care. Neither man wanted a twisted or broken ankle because they were in a hurry and being careless. Especially now that, even with a Nurse Practitioner, any injury could be potentially life threatening.

  Saverton Island, the small island the group had taken up residence on, was nearly three-quarters of a mile long, and just a little over one thousand feet at its widest point. They had chosen the island for its dense woods, and the lagoon like area that was almost completely surrounded by land, with the exception of the small inlet they had brought the boats through.

  The island offered cover and concealment from people on either the Illinois or Missouri shores. They felt that if they kept their fires low and shielded as well as having watchmen on both the north-east and south-west sides of the island they could keep themselves hidden for quite some time.

  Mike and Gordy were back at camp in less than five minutes; they could hear Jimmy’s whistle the entire way. Both men were surprised to find that there was not a single person in the camp. Other than Jimmy’s whistle, which had just stopped, there wasn’t a sound.

  “I’m guessing everyone heard the whistle,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, I guess they did. Excellent response though, wouldn’t you say?” Gordy scanned around, not seeing anyone, “I’m surprised they could hide so well so fast. Calvin, can you hear me?”

  The men turned around at a rustling noise behind them. Calvin pushed up from the prone position; the clump of brush he had been laying behind had hid him completely. He didn’t bother to dust himself off.

  “What’s going on? We heard the whistle and scrambled everyone in a hurry. Tam and Lynn took the younger kids towards the center of the island; we thought they would hide best in the trees and thicker undergrowth. You want me to call the rest out here?”

  “Yeah, call them out;” Gordy told his son, “we may have a situation. How much of one I have no idea, but I saw two boats up river from here. I couldn’t tell you anything about them other than they are coming in this direction.”

  Calvin raised his hand and waved it in a “come here” motion. Everyone but Tamara, Lynn and the children stepped out into the clearing at the edge of the camp.

  “Sorry to scare everyone,” Gordy began, “we saw two boats coming down river. I can’t say if they are hostile or just people like us, getting away from a dangerous situation. I just want you guys to be aware of what’s coming. How you were hiding was great, Mike and I couldn’t see anyone. Jimmy stayed behind to watch the boats, as soon as he can get a clear look at them, he’ll head back here.”

  “So, what do you want to do,” Jan asked, “wait out here and see what happens or get everyone hidden again?”

  “When Jimmy gets back we can hide and watch. He should be back in plenty of time for us to disappear the way everyone did before.”

  Jimmy walked into camp a few minutes later, out of breath. “They are close, should be near the inlet any minute now.”

  “Everyone back to their hiding spot. Jimmy, Mike, Sam, and Rick stay here with me; these people will see the boats and know there are people here. They don’t need to know how many though.”

  The five men stood on the sand, waiting for the unknown. Each man had his own thoughts on what they would face, and how they would face it, but they all expected trouble to come.

  It wasn’t long before the two boats, both old jon-boats, turned into the inlet. The men standing on shore could hear shouting voices, and the rumble of the tired old outboard motors. They all stood quietly, spread out in a long line with rifles held at low ready.

  A shout came from the boats, and everyone turned to look at the five armed men standing on the beach.

  “Hello to the island!” a voice called from the boats. One of three men stood up, unsteady in the watercraft.

  “Hello to the boats!” Gordy shouted back. He and the other men kept their rifles at the low ready
position, wary of the newcomers.

  The man standing in the boat gestured to the other people with him, other than the two men; there were two women and a child, though it was difficult to judge the boy’s age at a distance. “Can we come ashore? I have a sick boy here, he’s only seven. We need help.”

  “Damn it, I don’t want to let these people come up here. Could be a trick,” Gordy said softly. The four men standing with him were quiet for a moment, letting Gordy think.

  “It’s your call Gordy,” Rick told him, “we’ll support whatever decision you make.”

  “When the hell did I become leader of this bunch?”

  “Years ago, you just didn’t know it,” Mike said. “I’m for letting them come up, your wife can take a look at the boy and then we send them on down the river. Your call, though.”

  Gordy thought for a moment more, then called out, “Come in slowly, nothing sudden!”

  Both boats came up to the sandy area, beaching directly in front of the men. Jimmy leaned over toward Sam saying, “Look at the woman and boy, they look terrified, man. You think something is going on there?”

  “They may just be scared of us, who knows,” Sam replied, “let’s just keep a close eye on them.”

  One man from each boat jumped out, splashing in the shallow water. Pulling the tow lines they dragged the boats as far on shore as they could, to keep them from drifting away.

  The man that had shouted to them from the boat came forward, walking with his hand out ready to shake Gordy’s.

  The first moments happened quickly. It seemed that at the same time their hands meet, Gordy had the barrel of a .45 pistol resting against his forehead. He did not see it coming. Even for all the precaution and worry, he could not have predicted such an insanely bold move.

  Gordy’s companions trained their rifles on the man, but did not fire. The other two men from the boats had rifles up and ready, one of the women gripped a large revolver in both hands. No one moved, and for a brief moment no one spoke.

  “Well, I hate to do this but my people here need the supplies, and one of those big pontoon boats to pack it on. Let us take what we need and we can all walk away from this.”

  The man was wiry; he looked like someone that was used to hard work, especially outdoors. Gordy stared back into the man’s cruel, dark eyes. They were the eyes of someone that got what he wanted, and Gordy felt that it was probably business as usual; taking what was desired by force.

  “Nobody move!” Gordy said loudly, so that those hiding in the woods could hear him. The wiry man cocked his head slightly, not sure what was going on.

  Gordy gathered himself up inside, choking back fear, forcing his hands not to shake or his bladder to loosen. He couldn’t think of anything worse (other than a bullet in the head) than pissing himself in fear at this very moment, though he felt the urgent need to do so.

  Drawing a deep breath, Gordy looked directly into the wiry man’s eyes, ignoring the rotten smelling breath being puffed out at him. Speaking loudly enough to be heard by the men standing next to him, Gordy told the man with the gun to his head, “You need to put your guns down, climb back in your boats, and leave.”

  Wiry Guy’s eyes widened, surprised that this bastard had the balls to say something like that with a gun to his head. “Either stupid or crazy, you gotta be one or the other. Your boys have us outnumbered, but I promise you’re the first one to get a bullet, then at least two, if not all of your men will go down. I’d say four against five isn’t that bad of odds when we have the upper hand here. Now you tell your men to set their guns down, we’ll get what we need and be on our way. “

  Gordy sighed, and said, “You had your chance.” Slowly he raised his hands as if in surrender and made the same “come here” motion that Calvin had made earlier. Wiry Guy pressed the barrel of the pistol harder into Gordy’s forehead, expecting a sudden movement from him. He was still looking at Gordy when he heard one of his people say “Aw, shit,” from behind him.

  He glanced at his companion, following his gaze back up the beach, to the edge of the woods, where every adult member of Gordy Fletcher’s group had stepped from concealment. All were armed, and all looked very angry.

  Gordy looked into Wiry Guy’s face and said again, “You had your chance.”

  Gordy took two steps backward, while Mike and Rick, the closest to him stepped forward. Wiry Guy still held the pistol at arm’s length, though his arm had begun to drop. When the two men moved forward the pistol came back up, tracking back and forth over the three closest people.

  “You might kill a few of us, but I can promise you, not a single one of you will leave this island. Put your weapons on the ground, all of you.” Gordy raised his voice so that he could be sure each person from the boats heard him clearly, and said it again.

  Weapons fell to the sand, though the woman with the big revolver hesitated, until Mike sighted the DPMS Oracle on her forehead, “Try something,” he said. She quickly dropped the gun, and lifted her hands up to show she was no longer a threat.

  “Turn around, hands on the back of your heads. Check them for more weapons,” Gordy told his men, “relieve them of any they still have.”

  Sam, Jack, Mike and Calvin stepped forward, searching all three of the men. They were rewarded with an ankle holstered .32 revolver from Wiry Guy, and a 9mm from each of the other two men. Calvin searched the woman, finding no other guns. They gathered up all of the confiscated firearms and dumped them further up on the sand, out of easy reach.

  “Now search the boats, take out any gun you find.” Sam and Jimmy only took a moment to search the boats, finding two shotguns, and a .30-30 deer rifle with a scope. They piled these with the rest of the guns.

  Through all of this the woman holding the little boy had been silent. She had not moved, nor had she spoken a word. “Please, let us stay here, with you. My husband’s sorry, we all are. We’re just so scared.”

  Wiry Guy snapped his head up, glaring at the woman. “Shut up, Mary. We don’t need their damn help. We don’t need anyone’s fucking charity,” he spat.

  “You needed our supplies and a boat just a minute ago. Apparently you needed them bad enough to try and steal them at gun-point.” Lisa’s tone was sharp.

  “There is no charity here now. I’m sorry, Mary,” Gordy said, his voice low and apologetic. “Wherever these people are,” Gordy gestured to the group around him, “that is home, and you tried to invade our home, steal our things and harm my family. The only charity you get is we will let you leave. Without your guns.”

  “Who the hell is stealing now? You fat bastard, I should’ve shot you when I had the chance!” The wiry invader glared at Gordy, vehement hatred shining in his eyes.

  “Get in your boats and go. Now!”

  They got into their boats quickly, glaring at the group on the beach. Over the sound of fading boat motors everyone gathered on the sand heard, “I’ll see you again, all of you! I’ll see you all dead!”

  Chapter 2

  Gordy stood on the beach watching until he could no longer see the boats. It took him nearly as long to calm the rapid hammering of his heart. He kept running the entire scenario over in his head, examining it from every angle to see if there could have been a different outcome. He could picture only two. Either he could have denied all contact with them or he could have shot them all on sight.

  To deny all contact with anyone outside of his group of survivors was an uncomfortable thought to him. People would have to come together to beat back not just the zombies that now plagued the world but also the darkness. It would be up to good people, strong people, to remake and rebuild.

  While he found the idea of isolationism unpleasant, he knew he would never be able to bring himself to shoot others on sight just to avoid the difficulties it might present. Life was often conflict and resolution; he just hoped that every time he and his people were face to face with someone new that it would not always be conflict first.

  “Hey man, you o
k?”

  Gordy turned to see Mike carrying a small silver-colored flask. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hoping that every time we meet someone it’s not going to be like that.”

  Mike handed Gordy the flask, “Have a pull on this, may help calm your nerves a bit. After that, I think we could all use it.”

  Gordy took the flask, taking a quick swallow. The harsh liquor hit the back of his throat, making him cough, but the heat going down felt good. “Damn, what is that?”

  “That, my friend, is moonshine, the real stuff. Not bad once you get past the burn. I packed a jar of it, hated to leave it behind.”

  “I couldn’t drink it all the time, but it isn’t bad. Did you make it?”

  “No, a guy I used to know made it. I would trade him homemade beer for this stuff.”

  “We’re going to have to set up a still if we can ever get settled somewhere. Alcohol like that would be great for trading. That is if we can find a place to permanently settle, and if anyone is willing to trade and not just take what they want.”

  “Good idea, but for the moment let’s focus on getting everyone safe and secure.”

  ****

  Everyone sat huddled around the campfire later that evening. Families snuggled together, drawing comfort from their closeness. Parents did not want to let their children more than an arm’s length from them, and the children, for once, did not complain about being smothered by the adults.

  Rick Tillerman had propped himself up on a log in front of his tent, enjoying the light and warmth of the fire. Tyler Tanner sat next to him, head against Rick’s shoulder. Trish stayed close to her little brother, while still keeping others at a distance.

  It broke Rick’s heart to see these once vibrant, laughing children broken and silent. Allen and Mary Tanner’s brutal deaths had scarred the children far beyond anything Rick could help them with.

  He would often wake at night breathing hard, the sight of his friend’s bodies full of bullet holes, bleeding and gory, filling his dreams with blood. He had felt ashamed of his reaction to finding them, vomiting right outside the shed. Rick had seen bloody and dead bodies in his time in combat, many of them close friends and fellow soldiers. He had seen human bodies torn to pieces from roadside bombs, bodies that were barely identifiable as human remains. He could only attribute his reaction to shock.