by David Achord
“Not unless you hack into it,” I said.
She gave me a startled look, like I had discovered her secret. I ignored it, for now, and scanned down the list of names. Finding Fosswell’s, I looked at the date.
“Alright, look at that. Junior accessed his account the same evening he was found dead.”
She looked at me with her mouth open in a silent O. “He must have written something before he killed himself,” she said.
“There’s one way to find out, open his account,” I said.
“I can’t without his password,” she said.
I pointed at the keyboard. “Roggenwolf 1199,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s all one word, or cap sensitive, or what, but give it a try.”
She opened it and when the screen came up with the password prompt, she typed. Her first attempt failed, but her second try opened it up. I saw several files, but suddenly the door to the conference room opened and Senator Rhinehart walked in. He walked over to where he habitually sat to retrieve a Yeti cup he’d forgotten, paused a moment to look at us like he’d caught us talking about him, and then walked out. His demeanor did not bother me, but Grace was another story. You could see the guilt written on her face. She nervously closed her laptop.
“We can’t do this here,” she said.
I agreed. “Yeah, let’s go somewhere private.”
She shook her head. “You promised Josue you were going to help him out in the motor pool today. I’ll work on it and get back to you.”
She hurried out before I could respond. I knew her well enough to know she was heading straight for her office, which was deep down in the bowels of the bunker. Nobody was going to see her for the rest of the day.
My walkie squawked as I walked toward the motor pool. The guard at the front gate advised there were newcomers at the gate. I was curious and diverted course. I mean, who in the world would be traveling in this weather?
There were eight of them, four men, two women, and two children, one of which could not have been any older than four or five. All of them were on horseback. It took me a moment before I recognized three of them; after all, I’d not seen them in five years.
“We can see about rounding up some snacks and hot beverages for you folks while you wait, but we have to follow protocol,” I heard the guard tell them. The older man, Joe was his name, nodded in understanding before he saw me. It took him maybe a second before he recognized me. A big grin crossed his face as I walked through the gate.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at who’s come to greet us,” he said.
“This is certainly a pleasant surprise,” I said. I waited for them to dismount and opted to give them each a fist bump.
Trader Joe did not look any different than when we’d first encountered them back in Bristol. His hair and beard were grayer, but otherwise, he looked as fit as ever.
His son, Little Joe, was only an inch or so shorter than me. I believed he was twenty-three now, and his long brown hair was tied back with what looked like a long strip of leather. He was wearing a thick jacket, but it looked like he was broader in the shoulders than the last time we’d seen each other. He had also picked up a couple of little scars on his face. It looked like he’d caught some shrapnel somehow.
His daughter was standing beside her brother. When I’d first met Riley, she was a skinny, wild-looking girl of seventeen. That made her twenty-two now. Her face was wind-burned and her lips were badly chapped, as were all of them, and although she still had a little bit of a feral look to her, she’d turned into a real looker. She gave me a fist bump while staring at me with a look that could’ve been interpreted as either she wanted to fuck me silly or rip my heart out and eat it. I’d forgotten about those fiery hazel green eyes. I must admit, I had to force myself to focus. All of them were dressed for the cold weather, and it looked like they’d ridden all the way here on horseback. The adults were wearing backpacks and they had a pack mule, but that looked like the extent of their belongings.
“What brings you to Mount Weather?” I asked. “Have you come to live here?”
“We thought we’d try it out, if we’re welcome,” Trader Joe replied.
“More than welcome,” I replied. “Once you guys go through the testing protocols, we’ll get you set up in the dorms and then we’ll work on setting you up in one of our fortified houses.”
“That would be nice,” Joe said. “Oh, where are my manners? This here is Zach. We met him and his people a few years back when they decided to leave Tennessee and come live here.” He pointed around.
“That there is Ned, his son Collin, and his daughter, Abby, who is also my daughter-in-law. Those two kids belong to Little Joe and Abby.” His wind-burned face darkened. “This is all that’s left of us,” he said.
I thought back to when we encountered Joe and his kids. That was when we were on our way here from Tennessee, five years ago. One of us had asked him how many survivors were in his group and he had declined to answer.
When we had rebuilt the main guard post, we built a parking area outside of the gate with a canopy and picnic tables. We called it the visitor’s area. I motioned for them to follow and led them to one of the tables.
“The guard called it in. The doctor or one of the nurses will be out here shortly. They’ll want to take blood samples from all of you and test it before allowing you to enter the compound. It’s standard protocol. Also, you guys must be debriefed and you have to have a full physical taken. I can take care of part of the debriefing right now, if you’re willing.”
Everyone looked immediately to Trader Joe, which reaffirmed he was the leader of the group. He gave a small nod.
“Ask away,” he said.
“What happened in Bristol?” I asked.
He bit his lower lip and inhaled before answering. “Two things. Zombies and disease. There were fifteen of us. I suppose the story is the same for everyone else who survived this stuff. It was tough at first, but we managed to adapt, improvise, overcome, and all that shit. Zach, when you and your people rolled through, we were holding our own. I know that’s a subjective term in this day and age, but we were doing okay. Up until last year that is, and then we had a series of setbacks.”
Little Joe snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“What happened?” I asked again.
“Oh, gosh, where to start. First, we had some kind of blight wipe out our entire potato crop, and then there was a wildfire that took out most of our corn crop. If that wasn’t bad enough, during the middle of all of this, our encampment was besieged by a horde of zombies. We think the fire somehow pushed them in our direction.”
“Two of our people died that day,” Ned said. He was already crying, even though we’d only been talking about it for a minute. I guessed him to be a sensitive type. He was a small-framed man in his early fifties, and I did not sense any athleticism to him. Nevertheless, here he was, eight years after the apocalypse, still alive and well. His son, Collin, looked like a thirty-something version of him. He reached over and rubbed his father’s arm as tears started welling up in his eyes as well.
“It was my mom and little brother,” Collin said. “They were in one of our gardens trying to salvage potatoes and a horde of about a hundred attacked them. They put up a good fight, but they were overwhelmed before we could help them.”
“And during all of this, people were getting sick,” Trader Joe said. “That fire released some kind of airborne toxin, we think. Damned if I know what it was, but a few of our older people and children came down with breathing problems and didn’t make it. We had a doctor at one time, but damned if he didn’t drop dead of a heart attack about a year before all of this.”
He took another breath and sighed heavily. “Between the toxin and the horde, we lost seven people in three days. Our gardens were lost, and the cattle we had were either killed by the fire or scattered.”
“So, you decided to move up here?” I asked.
Trader Joe gave a small chuck
le and hooked a thumb at Riley. “She met two of your people about six months ago. Who were they?”
“A man and woman,” Riley said. “Melvin and Savannah.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, yes. They’re our people alright.”
“They told us a lot of nice things about this place,” Trader Joe said. “They even said you people have a vaccine. Is that true?”
“It is,” I replied.
“Well, there you go. We made the decision, grabbed what we could, and headed this way. By the way, I see a lot of vehicles. Do you people still have fuel?”
I answered and explained. Our conversation paused when Doctor Salisbury arrived in a golf cart, along with another man, who had a tray of various snacks. She stuck each one without emotion, including the two little kids who didn’t like having their blood drawn. She knew Parvis was dying of cancer and it affected her. She tried to keep a strong emotional front, but knowing you’re going to lose a loved one was hard on a person.
“Our testing procedure only takes a few minutes per sample,” she said. “But, all of you will also be required to undergo a complete physical. We’ll get started on that after breakfast tomorrow.”
She then looked at me.
“Once they’re cleared, make sure they’re deloused; they look the type.” She did not wait for any type of response, got back on the golf cart, and rode away.
“Nice lady,” Abby quipped.
“Yeah, she doesn’t make friends with anyone until she’s satisfied she can give them a clean bill of health.”
“What happens to people who don’t pass?” Abby asked.
“We get their information, about like what we’re doing now, and then we’ll set them up in a house, but we don’t let them inside Mount Weather. If they resist, we resort to harsher measures.”
“That’s hardcore,” Little Joe said.
“Tough times,” I replied. “At one time, we just sent people on their way, but now we have houses we’ve fixed up. Some of them even have power. If people qualify, we put them in one of the houses.”
Ned perked up. “Power? As in, electricity?”
“Yes indeed,” I answered. “So, let’s continue with the vetting process.”
Since I did not have my laptop or a notepad, I listened intently to each of them. I was going to, at some point before bed, type all of it up and email it out to everyone. Trader Joe was once a lawyer, confirming what I suspected. Ned and his adult children were horticulturists and once had a flower shop. The good thing about it, they knew how to grow stuff. Little Joe and Riley were teenagers when it all went bad, like me. They’d learned how to survive though, so I felt all of them would make good additions to the community.
Doctor Salisbury called the guardhouse an hour later and gave the all clear. I had the guard call Lydia and informed her we had eight new guests.
Sammy and his girlfriend, Serena, joined us and readily agreed to take care of the horses. I led the rest of them to the dorms.
“We call this the dorm,” I said as I pointed into the large open room with cots and lockers. “At the moment, there isn’t anyone else living here, so you have it all to yourself. But, we could have new arrivals come in tomorrow and they’ll be put in here with you.”
I pointed down the hallway. “Male and female locker rooms are that way. Not to be rude, but you guys really need to clean up and put some clean clothes on. There’s lice shampoo and soap on a shelf by the showers and the laundry room is at the end of the hall. I won’t watch, but please take the time to use the shampoo and comb your hair out with the lice combs. Any questions?”
“Will we be able to get something to eat?” Abby asked. “The kids are hungry.”
“Yeah, we’re all hungry,” Collin added.
I looked at my watch. “They start serving chow at seventeen hundred hours. Y’all get yourselves cleaned up and situated and then mosey on down to the cafeteria. Ask anybody where it is, or just follow them.”
“You got it, Zach,” Joe said and headed over to a bed before dropping his backpack to the floor. The others did the same. I watched a moment as they took their jackets off and looked around at their new temporary home.
“Okay, I’ve got some things to do, so I’ll see y’all at dinner,” I said.
I got about halfway down the hall when someone called out to me. It was Riley. I waited for her to catch up. She had stripped out of her jacket, hat, and outer shirt. Now, she was only wearing jeans and a black Under Armour long-sleeve shirt, sans bra. She wasn’t the skinny girl I remembered; she had filled out in all of the right places. I focused on her face.
“Are you still married?” she asked.
“Yep. Kelly is about six months pregnant currently. What about you? I figured you would’ve found somebody by now.”
“I did, but he got caught by zombies,” she said.
“Oh, sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. Are there any single men here?”
“A few,” I replied and grinned. “Why, are you on a manhunt?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
I was kidding with her, but quickly realized she was serious. Another thing I remembered about her, she was blunt.
“I need a real man, not some sissy boy. Are there any of those around here? Age doesn’t matter, I’ll take an older man, if he’s decent looking and can still get it up.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, there’s a few single men here, some are of better character than others. I’m sure you’ll find one you like.”
She was staring at me with those fiery green eyes again. “Would you mind helping me?” she asked. “You know who the good guys are around here and who are the losers.”
I gave her a nod. “I’ll talk it over with Kelly and we’ll come up with a list of candidates.”
She stared a moment longer. “Thanks, Zach. I prefer a man with muscles and nice teeth, like you. Oh, and disease free. I don’t want an STD.”
I gave her a shrug. “I have no idea who has STDs. I’d guess only the doctors would know something like that.”
She thought for a moment. “How many single men are there?”
“There’s a few that live here in the compound and a few more who live in the surrounding area,” I said. “The living situation these days tend to encourage people to form relationships, but currently we have more single men than single women.”
She thought for a moment longer. “Okay, we’ll get started after dinner.”
I chuckled again. “I’m going to call Kelly and get her to bring you girls some lotion and stuff.”
“That’d be wonderful,” she said.
I found Kelly sitting with some of her friends in a room near the classroom and filled her in.
“How are they?” she asked.
“A little rough looking, but they seem to be okay. There’s Riley and Little Joe’s wife, Abby and two kids. I’d say they’d need some clean clothes and stuff.”
She glanced over at Maria and Brenda. “We’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, beautiful,” I said and gave her a sloppy kiss. “I’ve got to go bring Parvis and Stark up to speed. I’ll see you at dinner.”
When new people arrived, it tended to get the Mount Weather community both excited and annoyed. There were some people here who acted like eighty-year-old men with a perpetual case of constipation. They didn’t like newcomers and weren’t shy about telling people how they felt.
When I walked into the cafeteria, the Bristol people were standing awkwardly while being peppered with questions by a couple of our resident busybodies.
“Hey, guys, you’re certainly looking better,” I said.
“A hot shower does wonders,” Trader Joe said. His hair was damp and tied back. He still liked his long ponytail. “But I have to tell you, that locker room smells like a dirty jockstrap.”
“Yeah, it’s overdue for a deep cleaning with a pressure washer.” I looked at Abby and Riley. Their lips were glossy with petrole
um jelly and their wind-burned faces looked far better.
“How are you ladies doing?” I asked.
“Some women brought us some stuff and fresh clothes,” Abby said.
I smiled. “That was Kelly, my wife, and her friends,” I said and waved off the busybodies. “There will be time enough for the Q and A later. Let’s get these people properly fed.”
I led them to the food line. “We use the buffet-style system. The kitchen staff puts out these big pans, and there is heated water underneath them. We have a few simple rules. Rule one, no taste testing, it’s a health standard. Rule two, only put the amount of food on your plate that you’re going to eat. You can go back for seconds, but only after everyone has gotten a plate.” I looked at the trays of food.
“Ah, this evening we have ground beef steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, and Jell-O. I can speak from firsthand knowledge, we have a limited amount of green beans, but we have a boatload of potatoes. You’ll see. On Sundays, we have baked potatoes, Monday is scalloped potatoes, and so it goes. Are any of you diabetic?”
“No, I don’t believe so,” Joe said.
“Good, because we serve corn and potatoes with almost every meal. Oh, and I don’t know if you guys are aware, but Jell-O is made by boiling down the skin and bones of cows and pigs. We don’t have it quite perfected yet, so don’t expect it to taste like you remember.”
“Gross,” Abby said.
“I’ll try it,” Little Joe said and put a serving spoonful on his plate.
“You’ll eat anything,” Riley said. Her brother retaliated by putting a spoonful on her plate as well.
“We’re a little short of salt, so it’s kept in the kitchen for cooking. Same with pepper and sugar.”
“Any other rules?” Trader Joe asked as we filled our plates.
“Some,” I answered. “You are expected to clean up after yourselves and your kids. You’ll be called out really quick if you leave a mess.” I pointed at a barrel in the corner. “Put your food scraps in there. Next to it is where you put your tray and utensils, next to that is a bucket where you put your napkins. Simple, right?”