by Wayne Mee
Pussbag had already moved out of the truck. What looked like scuba gear was strapped to his back. The long nozzle dripped tongues of flame, quickly dispelling any notion that he was on his way to the beach. Perhaps a weenie-roast of sorts, though such decisions now rested in the competent hands of his new friend. Pussbag himself was but the faithful servant.
The calm, cool voice spoke again. “Corporal Pussbag. Prepare your flame-thrower. On my word, incinerate the building. Sergeant George, at the ready. Kill anyone you see with a weapon. Corporal, commence on my mark. Three. Two --”
“Wait a minute! Wait a fucking minute!!”, though muffled, the voice clearly came from inside the barracks. The door opened and a man came out, hands held above his head. Four more followed. The last one out was a woman. Jocco nodded to Georgie, who moved forward like an eager bully, M-16 more than ready.
“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!”, George beamed, warming to his new-found roll. “No sudden moves! Now, advance slowly.”
All five shuffled forward, uncertainty written on their drawn faces. Ten yards from the truck Jocco had them stop. With Georgie on one side and Pussbag on the other, Jocco climbed down, his .45 held casually in his hand. Pinkton and Waterson watched silently from the back of the truck. Nurse Shirley was still hiding in the safety of the good ol’ days.
The first man to come out, a tall black wearing corporal stripes, lowered his hands and started forward. Jocco raised his gun and smiled.
“No-one told you to move, soldier. Get back in line.”
The man cocked his head, a frown creasing his dark features. “Just who the hell do you think are you anyway? You could have killed someone for real, asshole!”
Jocco wiped a grain of dust out of his eye, that terrible grin still on his face. Each word came out like polished ice. “We’re the good guys, asshole. Now, get your black ass back in line!”
The corporal grunted, turned and spoke to the others. “These clowns ain’t regular army! Are we going to stand here and let them order us around? I saw we ---”
Jocco shot him in the back of his head. As the body collapsed, the woman screamed. The man closest to the corporal had brains spattered all over his face.
“Insubordination will not be tolerated,” Jocco said calmly. “Now, the four of you, climb into the back of the truck.”
Like swimmers struggling against the current, they moved towards the troop carrier. The woman’s scream had shrank to a moan. Waiting wide-eyed in the back, Walter Pinkton looked down to see that he had pissed his pants.
They found a few more survivors in the other barracks, making a total of seven men and two woman. By the time the Recruiting Ceremony was over, the number of men had dwindled back down to four. Besides the smart mouth black, Jocco had been forced to shoot two more reluctant recruits.
Jocco had refined the initiation somewhat. Not wanting dubious volunteers like Waterson, joining only to save the woman from Pussbag’s bayonet, Jocco decided to accept a man strictly on his own eagerness to participate.
Two had declined the privilege.
As for Dolores Delgotto, one of the two women found wandering the base, she had had the misfortune to tick off George the Man at the high point of his evening. It seems that good old Georgie-Porgie, having had a wee bit of trouble getting his pudding in the pie, had decided to live by that wise old axiom: You are what you eat. Dolores, however, had been somewhat less than ecstatic about the whole thing, and so, like her predecessor before her, Shirley Bates, Deloris had chomped down a might too hard on old Georgie. The second time ends the rhyme so they say, and old Georgie had blown her brains out.
By the end of the evening’s festivities, counting himself, the Army of the Dark Stranger now numbered nine men and two women. Not exactly a ‘flowing multitude’, but then again, great things come from small beginnings.
Chapter 9: RARE BLOOD
Hawthorn, Lake Champlain,
Upstate NY, June 24(Day 3)
Josh and Doc sat out the back on the old vet’s porch watching Jessie play with the dogs. Princess, the mother, still favoring her back leg, ran with Jessie across the field. Her gangly pup raced around them in circles, his short tail wagging frantically. Jessie had named him Og, the nick-name his father had called him since he was a child.
“The dogs have taken to the lad,” Doc said. “It does my old heart good to see them run.”
Josh nodded, his own heart warmed by the sight. He stiffened as Jessie and the dogs disappeared into the forest just beyond the field. The boy was seventeen, and though still a child in many ways, Josh had taken him hiking and canoeing since he was old enough to walk. The woods were like Jessie’s second home. Josh however, now worried more about two legged beasts than four.
Doc put down his cup. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told the boy this morning. When you were teaching him to shoot that .22.” His lined face creased into a frown. “That part about not being able to trust strangers right off; how most you meet will still be good people, but probably scared and confused, and that scared, confused people are likely to do stupid things.” Doc took his pipe out of his pocket, filled the bowl and struck a wooden match. Josh reached for the pipe Doc had ‘loaned’ him last night. He hadn’t smoked in years, but after what they had all just been through, he thought, ‘what the hell?’
“And?”, Josh said, filling his own bowl.
Doc coughed and spit, then sat back amidst a cloud of blue-white smoke. “And you’re right. I don’t much like it, but you’re right. It’s probably why that fool took a shot at you yesterday.”
Josh shrugged, not sure just where the conversation was leading. He soon found out.
“So,” Doc said, leaning forward through a grayish haze. “We’ve got to advertise. Let whoever is still out there know that we’re around and that we’re friendly.”
Josh grinned. “And how do we do that? We can’t exactly place an add in the paper.”
Doc winked. “No, but we can make one bloody big sign.”
Josh’s grin spread from ear to ear. “Of course! Down by the Food Mart! And outside the Sear’s store! Anyone left will probably go to one place or the other for supplies!”
Doc slapped his knee. “And we can tell them to meet at a central place, say, the town square. That’s out in the open and should be less intimidating.” The old man leaned closer. “Also, that way no one will know where we live, just in case the wrong sort shows up.”
Josh smiled and stood, calling Jessie and the dogs. All three came out of the woods on the run, the pup, Og, bringing up the rear. Soon everyone was in the van and headed downtown. Doc brought several half used cans of paint from his garage. Josh brought his father’s guns.
A little after noon they stood in the middle of Hawthorn’s main street admiring their handiwork. On the brick wall of the Food Mart was printed in large, white letters:
TO ANY SURVIVORS!
GENERAL MEETING EVERY DAY
AT NOON IN THE TOWN SQUARE.
EVERYONE WELCOME!
Similar signs had already been painted outside the Sear’s building and the hardware store.
All three were startled when Princess suddenly turned and growled. Behind them, an old woman and a girl of about fifteen stood staring at them. The woman, gray hair half covering her Asiatic features, held the girl’s hand.
“Do you think many will come?”, she asked casually. Her voice was heavily accented, with a pleasant, sing-song quality. The girl said nothing.
Josh found his own voice. “We hope so. I’m Josh Williams. Who are you?”
The old lady bowed. The girl kept her large dark eyes on the dogs. “I am Kay-loon Wang. This is my granddaughter, Mai-ling.”
Doc made the rest of the introductions and offered the old lady a seat in the open side door of the van. She hesitated, smiled and then shuffled forward. Josh saw that she moved stiffly. Probably arthritis. The girl stayed by her side, silent and wide-eyed. She looked to be fourteen or fifte
en. Her hair was long and black and glistened like a raven’s wing.
Josh hunkered down beside her and asked it she’d like to play with the dogs. The pup Og came up and sniffed her, causing a bright smile to light up her face.
“Mai-Ling is mute,”, her grandmother said. “She can neither hear nor speak. Been that way since birth. But she can read lips.”
Josh was about to repeat his question, but saw there was no need; Og was already licking her face. After stocking up on food, all five of them went back to Doc’s for supper.
Later that night Doc joined Josh on the back porch. The old man had a bottle of brandy and two glasses. The stars were burning brightly in the summer sky.
“Peaceful out here, isn’t it?”, Doc said as he eased himself into a lawn chair. “My wife Martha and I used to sit and listen to the crickets. Too noisy in town she used to say.”
Josh nodded and accepted a half filled glass. The amber liquid slid down his throat like rough velvet, igniting a small, fierce fire in his stomach that made him shudder.
“Hits the spot, don’t it?”, Doc grinned.
Josh managed a nod.
The old man took a sip, then reached his pipe. “I’ve been thinking again. Old coots like me do a lot of that.”
“Keep it up,” Josh smiled. “Your sign idea was brilliant. What’s next?”
Doc leaned forward, his eyes bright. “What kind of blood type are you?”
Josh looked surprised. “Why?”
Doc grinned. “Humor me.”
“RH negative. It caused a lot of problems when my wife was pregnant with Jess. She is... was positive.”
“And what about the boy?”
Josh stiffened. “Same as me, negative. Why?”
Doc sat back, filled his ancient Briar and smiled. “I’m RH negative too. Out of the five of us, we know three of us have the same rare kind of blood. Now, I’m just a country vet, and an old one at that, but that seems mighty strange to me. My bet is that Mrs. Wang and her granddaughter have it too. Come morning I intend to test them both and find out.”
“Just how rare is it?”
Doc struck a match. “Somewhere around five or six percent of the population.”
Josh sat perfectly still, his glass forgotten in his hand. “You think that’s it? Whatever the hell they let loose passed us by because of our rare blood?!”
“Christ, Josh, I told you I was just a country vet. We’d need one of those big-city Harvard boys to be sure. But if I’m right, then we can look up the records at Crown Point Hospital and start phoning. Most people have those thing-a-ma-jigs that leave a message. Cell phones may not work any longer, but the old line-phones still do --- for a while at least. We can just call them up and see who’s still home.”
Josh suddenly stood up, his eyes wide. “Brad Westgate! He’s my cousin. Lives over in North Conway, New Hampshire. The two of us practically grew up together!”
“This cousin of yours have RH negative blood?”
Josh’s smile fairly lit up the night. “He sure as hell does! What’s more, at least one of his sons has it as well! Kenneth, the oldest one, born twelve hours before Jessie! One night a few years back we were hiking the Presidential Range up near Mount Washington. Brad had a beer or so too many and told me how worried he was about his wife having the baby because of it!” Still smiling, Josh rushed into the house.
The next morning, June 25th, four days after Sergeant David Henderson unwittingly unleashed the worst plague in the history of mankind, Josh Williams woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs.
He’d gone to bed late and taken a long time to fall asleep. There had been no answer at Brad’s place. He’d left a message on Brad’s machine, but doubts had quickly crept in. Perhaps Doc was wrong about the RH negative blood? Perhaps it was the blood combined with something else? Perhaps now they’d never know.
When he made his way to the kitchen, Mrs. Wang met him with a smile and a bow. He returned the gestures, noticing the smell of hot bread mingled in with the bacon. Soon Doc’s rambling kitchen was filled with eager eaters.
Mrs. Wang seemed delighted with the way the three men wolfed down her food, and refused to let them help her with the dishes. “Go on,” she said in her musical voice. “You men have your work to do and I have mine. Mai-Ling can help me.”
So much for Woman’s Lib! Josh had a sneaking feeling that a lot of modern ideas would soon be going by the board. As though to confirm his thought, Jessie asked if he could have another target lesson. This time he wanted to shoot the big gun. The refrain from an old Dylan song echoed in his head.
‘Ya better start swimming’,
Or you’ll sink like a stone,
‘Cause the Times they are a changing’!
‘Bloody right!’, he said to himself. ‘A lot of things are changing.’ Slowly, even a bit sadly, he called his son and carried the two guns out back.
About eleven Doc suggested they go down to the Town Square and see if their sign had worked. On the way there he told Josh he’d tested both Mrs. Wang and her granddaughter and that they were both RH negative.
By quarter to twelve Doc was sitting on a park bench feeding the pigeons. Josh and Jessie were watching from the shadows of the court house. They’d left the dogs at home and brought their guns instead.
Twelve o’clock came and the clock tower atop the court house tolled out the strokes. Nothing moved in the square except the pigeons. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Josh was just about to step out of the shadows when he saw the sun strike something shiny on the far side of the square. Backing up, he handed Jessie the 12 gage and took the .22. Inwardly he cursed himself for not getting a bigger rifle. Field glasses would have helped too.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Someone’s watching from across the square. Too far for the shotgun.”
Jessie looked at his father strangely, for the first time realizing that this wasn’t just some video game or movie. This was REAL! The flash came again, only closer this time. Whoever was over there was moving and probably armed. Jessie checked to see that the shotgun was loaded.
Then, on the far side of the square, a girl appeared. Josh could see she was in her late teens, dressed in cut-off jeans and a red halter. She flipped her long, scraggly hair over her bare shoulders, looked back into the shadows, then moved nervously forward.
“Who’s that?”, Jessie asked.
Josh silenced him with a look, then turned back to the girl. The flash of steel came again from the shadows, only closer than before. “Cautious bugger,” Josh muttered. “Using the girl as bait.” He thumbed off the safety of the .22, wishing again that it was a bigger caliber and making a mental note to visit the local sporting goods store as soon as this was over.
“Hello there, little lady,” Doc called out. “Come on over and help me feed the birds.”
The girl hesitated, glancing back once again.
Doc’s pleasant voice continued. “Might as well tell your friend back there to come on over too. There’s a nice lady cooking fresh biscuits back at my place and you’re both welcome to come along.”
The girl kept glancing from Doc to the shadows, clearly waiting for instructions. They came, but they weren’t for the girl.
“Stand up, old man, and walk over here!”
From his own position, Josh could see Doc cross his legs, take out his pipe and casually strike a match. Through the bluish haze, the old man’s words were crisp and clear.
“No sir, I don’t believe I will. I’m quite comfortable sitting here in the sun. You both can come on over, though.”
“What’s he doing, Dad?” Josh ignored his son, his eyes fastened on the shadows on the far side of the square.
“Don’t fuck with me, old man!”, the male voice yelled.
Doc continued to puff away. “I have no intention to, son. However, that invitation for hot biscuits still holds. You and the little lady are welcome, but its your decision, not mine.”
Silence, during which
the girl began to shake like a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing truck. Josh whispered in Jessie’s ear and the boy slipped silently away to the right. Then the man’s voice spoke again, harsh and cold.
“Gloria! Get your ass over there and check him out!”
The girl jerked forward. As she neared Doc, the voice came again. “Move to one side, bitch! You’re blocking my shot!”
The girl moved, and so did Josh. Stepping out so that he was still partially in the shadows, he called out loudly.
“How’s it going, Doc? The rest of the boys are getting a little restless back here!”
The girl froze a dozen steps from Doc, her eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t move, old man!”, the voice called out. The tone was higher now, scared.
Doc continued to puff away on his pipe.
“How many guns you got over there?!”, the voice demanded.
Doc smiled. “More than enough, son. But why don’t you come out and we can all shake hands. The young lady here looks a wee bit pale.”
The voice yelled back, clearly frightened now. “If you don’t shut the fuck up you’re going to be a wee bit dead!”
Josh joined in again, praying his ruse would work. “Hey Doc! Bob’s got the guy in his scope. You want him to take the shot or what?”
The girl began to whimper.
Doc’s voice now held an edge of steel in it. “I want our bashful boy here to either walk out here real friendly like or to get the hell out of our town!”
Josh smiled in spite of the fear gripping his spine. “Well friend!”, he yelled. “Which one is it going to be? Come out empty handed or take off?!”
The voice, almost a screech now, hollered back. “Eat shit and die, all of you!”
At the same time Josh yelled his son’s name. Jessie, hidden in the shadows two buildings away, pulled both triggers on his grandfather’s shotgun. The double recoil staggered him as the heavy number 4 pellets tore across the square, blowing a three foot hole in the leaves of the old maple just to the right of the person hidden in the ally. The large picture window on the second floor of the dentist’s office shattered, sending jagged shards of glass falling to the sidewalk.