Red Death: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Robinson, D. L.

  Tara told Lee all about Clyde and his Gibson Girl WW2 radio. Lee looked sad when she relayed the information that the entire country was experiencing similar conditions. She gave Lee a hug. Having already somewhat resigned herself to this news, he was the one needing comforting now. Food was the best way to do that.

  “Let me think about how to make a meal with this,” Tara said.

  Lee started down the basement stairs to stoke the stove. She called down after him. “And Lee, pour some disinfectant on your hands after handling that squirrel meat just in case. I plan to cook it very well done. I guess we’ll soon find out if squirrels carry Ebola. If we don’t kill it by cooking—it will be about a week,” Tara told them. Lee shuddered. Mary looked frightened and changed the subject.

  “Tara, I’m going to rinse and chop the crabapples. I’m thinking some dessert would be really nice—Crabapple Bread sounds pretty good to me.”

  “Ooh, it does! The baking stuff is in the cupboard, Mary,” Tara pointed to the pantry. She was glad she had bought a lot of flour, sugar and the rest at the dollar store that day. There was plenty of that left. She imagined it would be hard to survive on just sugar and flour, but it could be done. Luckily, since she’d found the foraging book, it wouldn’t have to be done.

  “But we don’t have any eggs!”

  “Oh, we don’t need any eggs, my dear. I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Mary told her.

  “Teach me,” Tara laughed. “Let me get this meat ready first.” The older woman smiled and agreed, gathering the flour, sugar and other ingredients.

  Tara rinsed the meat, green tomatoes and mushrooms, then cubed them. She arranged it all in an iron skillet with a little olive oil and took it down to set on the woodstove.

  Tara returned to find Mary measuring out ingredients. “I don’t know how this is gonna work without an oven, but I think I can make it in a skillet,” Mary told her.

  Tara stood watching as Mary explained. “Here’s a basic sweet-bread recipe Tara—one cup of sugar, maybe a little more for these tart crabapples. Two cups of flour, a half cup of shortening, two teaspoons of salt, and a teaspoon of baking soda. Mix that together good. Now in place of milk, add a couple tablespoons of water to replace it. Milk is actually eighty-seven percent water.” Mary winked at Tara. “I taught a Home Ec. class once for about a year.” She continued to measure and mix. “And for each egg, two teaspoons of baking powder, two teaspoons of water and a tablespoon of oil will substitute. We need two eggs for this, so we’ll double that.” Mary added the ingredients. “Finally, in go our two cups of chopped crabapples. Mix it all together in the skillet, and we’re ready to go!”

  Tara stirred the batch of dough. “I can’t wait to try it!” She smoothed it down flat in the pan and sprinkled the top with sugar. She carried it down to the stove, already smelling the wonderful aroma of the meat and mushrooms cooking. Lee was tending the fire and stirring the frying food. When he caught a glimpse of the pan, his eyes grew big.

  “Mmm, is that a cake?”

  Tara laughed. “Well, thanks to Mary’s cooking skills, it’s going to be the closest thing to a cake we have at the moment—Crabapple Bread!”

  Mary joined them around the cook-stove. Tara took over until the meat was very well done, and they all eyed it hungrily. Tara poured a small amount of water into the pan, then sprinkled a bit of flour into the meat juices, and stirred until a nice gravy began to thicken. “Let’s leave this bread here to bake and go eat!”

  Mary and Lee followed Tara upstairs to the kitchen. She dished out the meal with her mouth watering. This time, they gathered at the kitchen island, a little closer to the basement so Tara could check on the dessert.

  “This is so damn good,” Lee said, chewing his first mouthful. Tara tried not to think of the little squirrels she’d fed for so many years. She said a silent prayer for them and thanked the Lord for providing. She took a bite of meat, tomato and mushroom all in one forkful. It was delicious. The tartness of the cubed green tomatoes, the savory richness of the mushrooms and gravy, and meaty tang of the squirrel all joined in the perfect blend of flavors. Mary agreed it was fantastic, and thanked Lee for the squirrel meat. He returned the thanks, grateful for their foraging spoils and they all ate in silence, enjoying the food immensely. Tara scraped up her last bite, and then ran, still chewing, down the steps to check on dessert.

  The crabapple bread had taken much less time than the hour Mary said it took in an oven. In the shallow pan on top the stove, it was very nearly done. She poked into it with a spoon and the spoon came out clean. It was done enough! She carried it up to the kitchen and cut it in huge wedges, plopping each of them on a plate.

  Tara leaned over, breathing in the fruity smell of the steaming, cake-like bread, then took a forkful. “Ooh Mary! Wow.” It was tart and sweet, crumbly, and fabulous.

  “Wait till you taste my pumpkin bread!” Mary announced as Tara rolled her eyes in food-ecstasy.

  “I barely feel deprived, ladies,” Lee joked.

  Mary laughed and nodded, working on her own wedge. “Pretty darn good for crabapples, if I do say so myself,” she mumbled around a mouthful.

  Mary seemed happy, and Tara thought maybe she had somehow let go of her anguish over her daughter and grandson, possibly giving it over to God. She’d been much more stoic about it lately. Or maybe it was just the nearness of others now in her life. It certainly had helped Tara to have Mary there with them.

  Tara thought about poor old Clyde, and pondered saving him a piece of the apple bread. She nodded to herself, deciding to. She could drop it off tonight on the way to the river. She wrapped a small wedge in tinfoil and explained to the others. Lee frowned a little, and Tara knew he was refraining from lecturing her on saving the food for just them. But the old man was so skinny, Tara felt compelled to do it. God bless him, he’d lived through so much history, it seemed wrong to let him starve to death, especially when they had enough to share and were able-bodied enough to find more.

  They finished their supper in good spirits. The last anemic light of day shining through the slits in the boarded-up windows announced evening’s approach.

  “We have a little extra water since you drained the pipes, Lee, but I think we may as well go to the river to get more. We’ll need it soon enough.”

  “I agree. No time like the present,” Mary said, “and we never know what tomorrow may bring.”

  ~

  The women waited until full dark, then changed into black clothes and their darkest coats. The river ran alongside the Kmart camp, far too close for comfort really, but Tara also needed to see the bonfires almost as much as she needed to get water. Ever since Lee speculated they were burning bodies, she wanted to know the truth.

  Tara loaded their new yard cart with every container that would fit. Water was heavy and it would be a struggle to get the cart home with it full. But they had to do it, there were no other options. Tara gave serious consideration to taking her car, but it was just too risky. Risk assessment had become a full time job. She’d already thought about going next door into her old neighbor Marla’s house to drain her pipes, water heater and toilet. Maybe even see what was in her pantry. However, the thought of the germs that might still linger on surfaces there stopped her. She discussed it with Lee and he agreed it was too dangerous. Mary had already drained her own water resources, so that was out. The river was their main source. It was either that, or all the other seemingly abandoned neighborhood homes. But Tara knew how she and Lee had holed up inside their own house, and she didn’t want to risk getting shot either.

  Tara turned back to see Lee leaning on his crutch watching as they started out the backyard pulling the cart full of water jugs and containers. It was going to be a cold night, and her breath escaped in a frosty cloud. She and Mary waved at him silently. The expression on Lee’s face stayed with her for a while; fear and helplessness. Tara had never seen him wear either one.

  ~

  The yard cart full of j
ugs and containers glided smoothly down the country road at the edge of town. Tara was grateful it didn’t squeak or rattle. The bitter cold night air burned her lungs and had numbed her nose within two minutes of leaving the house. Hillocks of tufted grass, crisp with frost, sparkled at the roadside as though reflecting the vast starry sky above. The moon was nearly full and cast a lot of light, but unfortunately, that also meant they were much more visible.

  “There’s a path that goes down to the river on just this side of the gravel pit,” Tara whispered to Mary, her breath hanging in frozen clouds. The older woman nodded.

  “I want to get a look at that bonfire too.” Mary answered.

  They detoured to Clyde’s backyard first, and Tara placed the tinfoil-wrapped slice of crabapple bread inside his screen door, smiling at the thought of the old man finding it. Yes, times were hard, and they might well all starve before winter was over, but she’d be damned if he starved alone. She’d come to realize there wasn’t much separating them from the bad guys in times like these, and she was determined to draw a line somewhere. The quality of mercy is not strained. Will Shakespeare always said it best.

  The road overlooking the gravel pit and Kmart took a sharp right-angle turn, and the path to the river cut into the brush just on the other side of it. Tara could see it straight ahead. She had explored here often, searching for arrowheads and fossils in the pit, picking black raspberries in summertime. She’d discovered early on that a huge concrete, man-sized drainpipe ran back toward town, probably under the very road they walked on.

  Tara peered into the gravel pit as they passed it and started down the path, almost unable to tear her eyes away. Mary did too.

  “Mary, look. There’s a ton of new construction going up!” Rows of long, barracks-like buildings lined both sides of the pit now, stretching around the corner onto the huge parking lot out front. They both stood puzzling over this for a moment. They must be expecting way more people.

  Mary’s daughter was down there somewhere, and it struck Tara how calm the older woman was. Not knowing whether her daughter and precious grandson were alive or dead must be terrible. Especially with what was going on there now. Uneasy at the smoke billowing up from behind the building, Tara hoped to get close enough to see for certain what was happening. But first, they needed water.

  The path descended steeply, and Tara worried briefly how she would pull the yard cart full of water back up; maybe with Mary behind pushing. As silently as possible, Tara led the way with Mary holding the rear of the cart to keep it from sliding sideways down the steep hill. They came out onto a level plateau along the riverbank. It was surprisingly well lit, and they could see each other clearly. The shelf of land they stood on was about twenty feet wide and interspersed with mature trees. A ring of stones gave away the spot’s use for camping. It was a pretty place, but beer cans in the weeds announced that mostly kids used it. The moon reflected off the water and the only sound was the river rushing past, two feet below the bank.

  “C’mon, Mary, let’s get these filled.”

  They pulled the cart as close to the edge of the river as possible and divvied up the jugs. Tara was relieved to see not much ice had formed along the banks, the water was moving too fast. They each leaned over to fill the jugs, which was a slow process.

  Tara had to take one mitten off to get a firm grip on the jug handle, and her fingers were soon numb and clumsy with cold. After the first batch was filled, the large open Tupperware boxes came next. Tara suddenly realized these would slosh their contents out on the trip up the hill. “Mary, don’t fill these as full, or we’re going to lose a lot on the way back.”

  They finished filling containers and fit them all back into the cart. They worked efficiently and in silence, ears peeled for sound from the direction of the Kmart.

  “Let’s pull this back up the hill and leave it, then come back down so we can get a closer look at the camp.”

  The plateau where they stood ran along the river for quite a way, and much like levels of a steppe, a higher ridge ran along above and behind it. This feature would effectively hide them from any guards or other sentinels standing watch. Tara thought they could get close enough to the old Kmart to see, yet remain well hidden.

  Mary agreed, and Tara pulled the now-heavy cart full of water inch by inch up the hill with Mary pushing hard behind. It was slow going. Her feet slid out from under her twice on the pebbles along the path, and if not for Mary, it would have been a disaster. Finally, after quite a struggle, they pulled and pushed the cart up to level ground.

  A noise from the tree line above the river made them crouch low, ready to run. “I saw something moving over there,” Tara whispered. They heard a low whistle, and Tara’s heart almost stopped. Who would be out after dark? She feared it could be the camp workers, rounding people up, but this noise came from further down the ridge.

  Tara put a hand on Mary’s arm to still her. Again, the low whistle and then dark shapes started moving toward them. Tara’s heart was in her throat, but she thought maybe these people were just coming to collect water like them.

  “It’s okay,” someone called softly. Tara glanced at Mary. It was too late to run. She hoped these people were friendlies like Clyde. Tara rose slowly to her feet and Mary followed suit. Two men and a woman in dark clothes warily approached, carrying rifles over their shoulders, but they were not military. Tara steadied Mary, her hand on her arm, but still ready to bolt if need be.

  The younger man reached them first. “We saw you at the river.” Tara was stunned into silence for a moment.

  The older man and woman came up alongside the younger.

  “Hello.” They seemed to take in Tara’s fright. “Sorry to scare you, ladies, but we wanted to make contact. We saw you getting water, and we’re trying to grow our network.”

  Tara relaxed a little. “We needed water too and came for some,” she told them. The older man nodded. He looked into Tara’s face, searching it for a moment.

  “Aren’t you Tara from school? It’s me, Kevin Tobler. I was a year ahead of you in high school.”

  Tara thought she recognized him. “Kevin! What are you doing out here? What’s going on?”

  “We’re part of the Resistance, Tara. We’re learning all we can, trying to stop what’s going on.”

  “This is my neighbor Mary,” Tara said. Kevin introduced the tall, dark-haired young man as his son Luke and the woman as his wife Jenny. Luke was the spitting image of his parents, a perfect cross between them both. Kevin told them there were about twenty in their group now, all living together, venturing out only for reconnaissance and foraging. Tara explained she and her husband had teamed up with Mary at their house. She told them they had only seen one old man in the neighborhood—Clyde. “What news do you guys have?” Tara finally asked.

  Kevin shook his head. “It’s not good. The door-to-door fever check campaign by the CDC is ongoing. Now forced vaccinations have started. They’re on the east side of town working their way toward this end.”

  Hope flared in Tara at this news—surely, vaccinations were a very good thing. Her gasp of excitement was quickly quelled.

  “The vaccinations are killing people, Tara. Some say it’s a live virus, and they’re trying to give it to everyone. We have no idea why, really. Maybe using us as guinea pigs to test vaccines? We’re also not so sure the CDC is behind it. It may be the group from the camp.” He jerked his head over his shoulder toward the Kmart.

  “Aren’t they both the same?” Mary asked.

  “No, they’re not. This camp seems to have gone rogue, from what we can tell. The commander in charge is a local guy from our National Guard Armory, by the name of Colonel Brent “Brick” Myers. You might know him.”

  Tara shook her head. The name was only vaguely familiar. Mary perked up slightly. “I think I’ve heard of him. Is he an asshole?” The younger guy, Kevin’s son Luke, laughed.

  “That’s him.”

  Kevin shook his head. “He most
certainly is. We’re beginning to think the overall chaos everywhere has simply put him in a position of power and gone to his head. There’s no oversight at all. Sort of like the Nazi death camps.”

  Oh no, Mary’s daughter. It was time to say something before Kevin made things even worse. “Mary’s daughter and grandson are in that camp. They had colds and slight fevers, and they were taken there. Mary hasn’t heard anything since.”

  Kevin shook his head. “I’m so sorry.” His wife Jenny made comforting sounds toward Mary.

  “Whatever you do, don’t take the vaccine, Tara. We think it’s killing around fifty percent of those who get it, maybe more.”

  Tar’s heart leapt to her throat. As if it weren’t bad enough without something else added into the mix. “I honestly don’t know how we’d resist, Kevin. I don’t have enough ammo.”

  “You can join us,” his wife said, “Strength in numbers.” Tara thought this might be a solution to discuss with Lee and Mary. “Thank you, this is definitely something to think about. How can we reach you? Do you make nightly rounds through here?”

  Kevin told them they were holed up in the old factory a half mile away down the country road they were on. Tara knew right where it was.

  “You can find us there or on our nightly reconnaissance. Just follow the tracks toward the factory after dark. We have teams out watching. Give that low whistle like I gave to you. That’s the sign to approach.”

  Tara hugged each of them and so did Mary. They were just so relieved to see someone else, to have another option. Tara was especially glad to see an old high school classmate, and doubted she’d have trusted a total stranger as much. She and Mary stood watching the three melt back into the trees in the direction of the factory.