As they moved along the rows of shelves Jonathan would take a jar or two down from a shelf and place it in the box. At each stop Jonathan would hold the light steady for a moment, allowing Jack to see that each shelf was neatly labeled, and well organized. The basement full of preserved foods was more than a hobby; it was a labor of love.
Taking two jars from a shelf labeled ‘venison’ and placing them in the crate Jonathan said, “This was my wife Martha’s handiwork here. That woman loved canning. For all the jars you see here, Jack, we gave away probably three times this much, at least. Wasn’t a family in ten miles that didn’t have something my Martha had canned on their shelves.”
Jonathan hesitated a moment, then took one more jar of the venison down, carrying it with him. “I think that should be plenty. How’s venison and vegetable soup sound to you, Jack?”
Jack’s mouth began to water almost instantly. He was afraid to speak for fear of drooling on himself like an idiot. Swallowing first, Jack said, “Sounds great to me.”
“Well, come on then; let’s get this to cooking.”
It wasn’t long before the house began to fill up with the wonderful smell of hot soup boiling on the stove. The rich smell of the venison, along with the earthy scent of the vegetables and savory spices, had salivary glands working overtime for the entire group. A quiet sigh of released anticipation swept through the crowed house when Jonathan finally announced that the soup was ready.
The children were served and seated at the kitchen table, each of them hovering over their bowl, dipping a slice of bread into the steaming broth.
The adults took bowls and bread into the dining room, the eight chairs around the table filling quickly. Those without a seat stood or sat on the floor. Other than the sounds of hungry people eating, the house was quite. The food and the relief of four safe walls brought comfort to the forlorn group. The family of survivors, though they didn’t know it, brought that same comfort to an old man who had just that morning considered lying down in the grass beside his wife’s grave with his old pistol.
With dinner done, and the dishes cleaned and put away, many of the group began to doze off wherever they found a comfortable spot.
Jonathan joined those that had made their way to the front porch, bringing with him a bottle. He handed the bottle to Calvin, who was sitting in the glider swing. “Scoot over there a bit, son.”
Calvin made room for the man, and took a closer look at the bottle. “Twelve year old scotch, very nice,” he said, pulling the cork from the bottle.
Jonathan chuckled at Calvin’s observation. “That was twelve year old scotch fourteen years ago. I might take a nip from it every once in a great while, if I’m having trouble sleeping. Someone, can’t remember who, gave that to me as a fortieth anniversary gift. If you folks don’t mind just sharing the bottle, pass it around.”
“I know you have all your things up at the Camp, but you all are welcome to sleep here for the night.”
Gordy, who had been sitting on the top step, stood up and looked in the front window. He could see several people already asleep on the floor and the thick cushioned couch. “I’m not sure I could wake those that are already asleep. Thank you, Jonathan; I believe we’ll take you up on that offer.”
Chapter 9
Early the next morning, after a light breakfast, with coffee in hand, Jonathan, Gordy and Calvin walked down to Jonathan’s work shop. Jonathan had offered the use of any of his tools and equipment to help the group set up their new home. They were going to see what equipment he had, and whether it would be useful to them or not.
Inside the shed, Gordy pointed out the large older lawn mower, wondering aloud if it would even run.
“You read up on the EMP effects a lot more than I did, Dad. I thought something like that wouldn’t even run after that.”
“I’m not entirely certain, but I think basic motors would run, but any electronic starting devices would get burned out. That thing is a pull start, so no starter to fry. Kind of the same thing with the older vehicles, the systems are very basic. We might find some vehicles that won’t start simply because the ignition switch is toast.”
“So, we might be able to use chainsaws, lawnmowers, maybe even a generator? That would be awesome.”
“I’ve got a genny in here, old sucker, bought it new shortly after Martha and I bought our first house, oh, about 1972 or so. Haven’t had a need for it in ages, probably needs a good cleaning before it would even run. I think I put a cover over it and slid it up under the bench there.”
Calvin got down on hands and knees, peering under the workbench. He pulled out a small canvas covered object and stood up.
“Yep, that’s it,” Jonathan said as he pulled the old piece of canvas tarp off. It was a dull red, Sears’s 1100 watt pull start generator.
“That’s pretty cool,” Calvin said, reaching for the starter cord.
“Let’s leave it for the moment,” Gordy told him. “We should probably clean it up, oil it a bit before we try to start it.”
They looked at all of the hand tools, seeing they that they would be able to put most of everything to use at some point. In their searching they even found a short blade chainsaw that Jonathan used for cutting small trees and brush. They were overjoyed when it started up with just a few pulls.
Once they had gone over everything else, the three men converged on the large riding lawnmower or ‘lawn tractor” as Jonathan liked to call it. They looked it over, checking that it had both fuel and oil before attempting to start it.
Cal climbed up and sat down in the worn and patched seat. After checking to make sure it wasn’t in gear he told Gordy to give it a pull. The engine sputtered but did not start on the first few pulls. Though the men were prepared to live without it, they knew having this machine running would make securing the camp much easier.
Calvin climbed off, taking the pull rope from his father. He reached forward, reset the choke and gave the cord one good hard pull, nearly falling over in the process.
The engine coughed to life with an unsteady rumbling. “Doesn’t sound bad,” Gordy told the other two men. “Has it always run like that, like it has a miss in it?”
“No, can’t say it did. I kept it tuned up pretty good, and if I ever had trouble with it I took it to Jack Humbell. That man did fine work with any kind of motor.”
“Well, Sam has always been pretty good with fixing these kinds of things,” Cal offered, “Maybe we should let him take a look at it.”
“Yeah, we can do that. Jonathan, does that little trench digging attachment work?”
“It did the last time I used it, about three years ago. You bolt it up to the same holes as the blade would go, connect that line there and use that little lever to operate it,” He told them, pointing out each item as he said it.
Gordy looked at Cal, “We could use that to dig a trench for the palisade wall your brother was talking about. The work would go quickly, and having that wall would be a huge relief to everyone. I would bet we could have it done in a few weeks.”
“When we use up the railroad ties when can just use the trees we’ll have to cut down for the rest of the wall. I think it’s a great idea, Dad. With the little chainsaw and the trencher, I think you’re right, a few weeks and we have a wall.”
Pleased with what they had found, the men went back to the house to share the information with the rest of the group. The use of Jonathan’s equipment and tools, and the news that building their security wall would be far easier than they had initially planned buoyed everyone’s spirits.
“Before we all get to work up at the Camp, I need to talk about something. Getting set up and secure in this new place is going to be hard work. Life itself is going to be hard work for the foreseeable future. Everyone needs to get used to that idea very quickly. We have the use of tools that will make what we have to do easier, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.
“As much as we would like to simply wall ourselves off from the
rest of the world, we can’t. Teams will have to be sent out into Saverton, to clear homes, making sure there are no undead walking around out there, as well as looking for survivors and supplies. Safety and security always come at a risk, though we will work to minimize that risk as much as we can.
“Eventually we’re going to have to send people back to Hannibal or even further away, to find supplies like medicines and things that we can’t make for ourselves. Eventually we hope to be self-sufficient, but that time may be a long way down a very hard road.”
Dean lay on the couch, listening to his father and hating that he wouldn’t be able to help with the early work at the Camp. Even if he wasn’t in constant pain, he knew his mother would never let him help with all of the hard work that would be involved, out of worry that he would aggravate his wounds.
With half his face still bandaged and his arm tied up in a sling he also knew he wouldn’t be much help, but he wanted to be part of it.
“Alright everyone, let’s neaten this house up before we go. Then we can all head up to the Camp and get to work.”
Chapter 10
“I wish we could use the truck,” Jack said, “I hate all this damn walking.”
“We all want to use the truck, but until we clear out some of this little town it’s just too much of a risk with all the noise. If we have to hunt zombies I’d rather do it one or two at a time, rather than twenty or thirty all at once. Besides that, they need the truck for moving the railroad ties. So, be nimble Jack, and let’s hoof it.”
Jack looked over at Jimmy walking beside Mike and said, “Dick.”
Jack took on a sullen look while the others laughed. He hated walking, and hoped they would find some bicycles while they were out.
Gordy had asked each of the men last night as they all huddled in the main hall at the Camp if they would be willing to start working their way into Saverton in the morning. They were to look for the living dead, dispatching them if they could, avoiding them if they could not. Finding additional supplies was important, but ensuring that there were no undead creatures lurking around took precedence.
The unincorporated township of Saverton had a population of less than seventy-five people. A small river community, it was spread out between small fields and large gardens, giving the area a more open feel. The people that chose to live so far out from the larger towns enjoyed their privacy and quiet.
“You guys ever wonder why none of us got sick?”
“You know why, Jack. As soon as we heard the reports about the sickness, or plague, whatever you want to call it, we got everyone together. It was obvious from the beginning that there would be no stopping it. That was the “It” moment most of us had been preparing for. Hunkering down in that old school is the only thing that kept us all alive.”
“Except for Jenny,” Mike said.
“Please, man, I don’t even want to talk about that. And whatever you do, I wouldn’t say that name around Gordy,” Jimmy responded.
By the time the sickness had hit Hannibal, Gordy and the rest of the group had been holed up in the old school for nearly a week. The Tanner family and Jenny Appleton were the only people that had not reported in yet.
Early one morning, Sam had been on watch when he saw someone stumbling down the darkened street. He had been unable to tell at a distance who it was. He had called out for his father, and Gordy had come running down the hall, followed by several others already awake at that hour. Gordy took Sam’s binoculars, watching the figure as it stumbled and shuffled its way up the street.
After watching for a few moments, Gordy realized who it was. “It’s Jenny, but she looks awful. She’s sick; you can see it from here.”
“Gordon, we have to help her,” Jan told him as she headed for the door.
“No, Jan, we can’t and you know it. Whatever this is there is no helping, only dying.”
Jan had halted at the door, her head hung low as she realized the truth of her husband’s words.
When the young woman was close enough to hear a shout Gordy drew up the window and yelled down to her. “Jenny, you have to stop there, honey!”
Gordy had been unable to see the bloody tracks down her face, where the bleeding had begun, until she looked up towards the sound of his voice. “Mr. Fletcher, is that you? You have to help me,” she had cried, her voice weak and plaintive.
Gordy felt heartsick at what he was about to do. “Jenny, sweetheart, there’s nothing we can do for you. You can’t come in here, or you’ll kill us all. I’m so sorry. Please go home, Jenny.”
Jenny couldn’t hear his voice cracking as he shouted down to her, but the others in the room could. They all shared in the hurt that Gordy was feeling at that very moment. This young woman had been part of the group, part of the family for many years. She had stayed in town after her father had died two years previous, because of this group, and what they meant to her. She meant just as much to them.
Jenny continued on towards the school, shuffling along slowly, barely able to stay on her feet. Gordy looked around to the others crowding around him and said, “I can’t let her in. I can’t even let her get close.” Tears were running down his face as he said it, and he felt his heart breaking as he reached for the hunting rifle Sam had held while on watch.
Kneeling down at the window, Gordy sighted through the rifle scope, and fired a shot directly in front of Jenny’s feet.
The woman fell over backwards, struggling to sit back up. Everyone could hear her cries for help, and not one heart remained unbroken from it. “Please go home Jenny! We can’t help you! There’s nothing we can do!”
As Jenny slowly stood up, Gordy blinked back tears to center the crosshairs of the scope on her grime streaked forehead. He held the rifle on her as she stood there swaying, knowing that should she take even one step forward he would have to pull the trigger.
She continued to stand there swaying on her feet. Gordy never moved the rifle, the young woman’s head moving back and forth in the crosshairs. Without another word she turned, heading back down the street. Gordy kept the rifle up, watching through the scope as she went, following her until she stumbled past the end of the street, onto Highway 79.
Gordy had turned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He handed the rifle back to his son, his head hanging. Jan quietly asked everyone to leave, closing the door as the last person filed out. She then went to her husband, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and together they wept hard, unashamed tears.
Jack looked at his friends, knowing they were both thinking about Jenny and the horrible feelings that went with it. It was a situation he hoped he would never have to see repeated.
The first driveway they came to was on the right side of the road, it ran behind one house with several small sheds, back to a two story house at the edge of the woods. They agreed to leave the first house until after they had cleared the one at the end of the long drive. They took their time getting back to the end of the lane, watching the house behind them the entire time.
They approached the house cautiously, relieved that there were none of the small outbuildings that most of the houses in the area seemed to have. Beginning at the front door all three men circled the entire house, watching the surrounding woods as well as the house itself.
Jack and Mike watched behind them as Jimmy knocked at the door softly, waited a moment and knocked again harder, while calling out to anyone inside. When there was no noise or response from inside he tried the doorknob. It turned easily in his hand and he swung the door wide. Stepping back, he raised the Sig 9mm he was carrying, sighting on the open space of the doorway.
They stood waiting for a full minute before stepping into the quiet house. The three men methodically cleared each downstairs room, saving the search for supplies until they knew the house was completely safe.
Gathering at the base of the stairs, they hesitated, knowing that stairways and hallways could be death traps. Mike stepped forward, bringing his suppressed DPMS Oracle
up into the ready position. “I’ll go first,” he whispered.
Safely at the top of the steps he waved to his friends to come up. The first door they opened was a bathroom, the second a small hall closet. The next door opened onto a large bedroom, with a massive king size bed. All three men raised their weapons, pointing at the bodies that lay on the pastel coverlet.
It was easy to see that the bodies would not rise up and attack them. A man and woman, both with fatal head-wounds lay slumped back against the pillows, hands clasped in the center of the bed. Dried gore from the gunshot wounds made disturbing Rorschach images on the wall behind them. A small caliber pistol was still clutched in the woman’s hand, which had fallen to her lap after she had pulled the trigger. The man’s gun hand had flung out to the side, dropping the large revolver he had used to the floor.
“Fuck,” Jack said, quickly backing out the room.
Mike and Jimmy finished checking the room, looking in the small bath and closet before following Jack out into the hall.
“You ok?” Mike asked
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to stuff like that.”
“You can’t get used to it,” Jimmy told him, “you just have to find a way to deal with it, or look past it.”
Jack leaned against the wall, waiting for the usual smartass remark from Jimmy. Jimmy just looked at him, a hard set to his jaw. Jack realized that his friend felt as sickened and disturbed as he did, he simply pushed it to the side and continued on.
Moving down the hall they checked each room they came to thoroughly. A sewing and craft room, another closet, a room used for storage. They came to the last door on the upstairs floor.
And they just stood there.
The white door was covered with pictures drawn by a child’s hand. Red plastic capital letters spelled out the name RONNY.
American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow Page 5