No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  Hal flips a chair around, sitting backward to face Danziger. “How did you end up here?”

  “St. Louis didn’t experience the kind of undead growth as other major cities. No one cares about the fly-over states. The city organized a defensive plan. We kept order for months, but it didn’t stop thousands from attempting to flee, blocking all the major highways for miles. As food stores ran low, people organized a caravan to reach Fort Leonard Wood.” Danziger leaves out how he wasn’t a part of this plan. “A massive herd swept over the caravan survivors scattering them. I met a man. Tom. He went one direction to assist; I went in the other direction.”

  “Were you able to help anyone?”

  Danziger lowers his head. “The herd—”

  “Yeah,” Hal agrees, “I’ve seen what a group of those things do.”

  “Did I hear you say there was a shower?” Showering is the last thing he wants to do, but if he cleans up and appears calm it might be more convincing for the second-in-command. He runs his forefinger and thumb over his stubbly chin. A less patchy growth would make me appear less insane. I can’t be the first raving lunatic they will have seen. I have to appear normal. Too bad I lost my badge; it would add to my credibility.

  Wanikiya chops peppers on a cutting board.

  “She needs to be on guard duty at least, if not out protecting those working outside the fence,” Simon demands.

  “No.” Wanikiya shakes his head. “Ethan cut a deal with her father. All the supplies, military trucks, and personnel for her safety. Even the tanks on the dam we got months before. I don’t know if the army will ever ride in to save us, but Colonel Travis left in a helicopter with the expectation to find his daughter alive and well. Outside this group, he is the only living person who knows we commandeered the dam and have power. Those tanks guarding our electrical source are due to him.” He slides the peppers off the cutting board into a plastic sealable container.

  “You can’t put her to scrubbing garbage cans. It won’t sell your established rules,” Simon says.

  The Sioux contemplates the ramification of his choice before rendering the verdict. “Simon, I value your perspective and wisdom. No outside patrol work or gate duty puts her at ill-advised risk. But if she is as skilled as you say, I must use her. Put her on the roaming fence patrol.” He slices a loaf of homemade bread.

  “Popping biters through the fence, checking for human invaders still has risk,” Simon says.

  “Living is risk. But we do nobody any favors by hiding them in a hole. Even Dartagnan pulls his weight. Unless Hannah has a more useful skill, she’s on roaming patrol tomorrow.” Wanikiya marks it down in a notebook. He chews his bottom lip. More people guard than run other operations. They need more residences.

  “The horse-backed team?” Simon asks.

  “If she’s able to ride.” Wanikiya completes the sandwich with mayo on the side in a dipping cup. He places a factory-sealed orange juice carton on a tray. “Our guest needs lunch. They say his arms are healing. Did you see them?”

  “No. Deep gashes according to the gate guards.”

  “Someone didn’t want him to escape without losing a hand. The question is why?”

  “With all the sickos out there…I would bet food.”

  “Ethan warned of such people.” Wanikiya carries the tray from the kitchen.

  Hal keeps one hand on his holstered pistol. He has little trust for this man if Ethan is unable to vouch for him. Wanikiya places the tray on the floor just out of Danziger’s reach. “You’ll forgive my precautions.”

  “Fully understandable. You’ve converted some of these rooms; why not make a jail?” Danziger rubs his smooth chin. Fresh clothes and clean bandages cover his frame.

  “Up until now, secure punishment was not necessary. Most of the time rule infractions are dealt with by cutting food rations. No one here wants to go hungry. Serious issues are met with banishment.”

  “I’m your first prisoner?” Danziger takes a bite of the beef sandwich.

  “If you’ve survived this long then you know trust is no longer granted.”

  “I get it. Thanks for the lunch and the shower.”

  “He keeps requesting to meet with our leader,” Hal says.

  “I’m just concerned.” Danziger coughs. He spits up his food bite.

  “Danziger, are you okay?” Wanikiya asks.

  “No. I feel woozy.” Danziger catches himself on the bed.

  Wanikiya hands his firearm and tomahawk to Hal before stepping in to help Danziger to the bed. Danziger sweats with fever.

  “Get the doctor,” Wanikiya orders.

  THE WAIL STARTLES Amie enough she has to grab the arm of the chair in order to prevent her from tumbling to the floor. She finally fell asleep. How Emily curls up like a cat I can’t figure. The girl’s almost as tall as me. With thinner thighs. The stiff high-back chair stopped being comfortable for her two days ago.

  Ethan tosses and mumbles in his sleep.

  Amie strains her ear, but the name he mumbles is inaudible.

  The scent of wet grass drifts in the open window.

  Amie fishes in her blanket for her flashlight, but the moonlight brightens the room and allows her to witness Ethan tumbling from one side of the bed to the other. His fists pound the mattress squeaking the springs.

  In the last three days, they have had to move him manually every few hours to prevent bed sores. Now his violent attack threatens to jolt him to the bed. She knows with one good leg she doesn’t have the leverage to help him from the floor.

  If Ethan wasn’t a mass of bruises my cuddling next to him might pacify his dreams.

  Amie hops to the bed using only one crutch. She leans in an attempt to understand the mumblings. Ethan paws at the sheets. Amie worries the IV will be torn loose. She reaches out to pin the flailing arm. The other hand tightens in her hair so swiftly she becomes discombobulated on top of him. She stretches her wounded foot out off of the mattress so if she falls she’ll be able to keep it suspended in the air.

  The force he uses to jerk Amie around drains his strength. Ethan maneuvers her next to him as if he’s comforting a small child. He babbles as he caresses her head. Long after he settles and the mumbling halts, Amie slips her tee-shirt off pressing her bare back against his chest in order to be as comfortable as possible. She adjusts his left arm so she doesn’t bump the IV. She draws her legs up so if he thrashes again he won’t strike her foot. She takes his right hand wrapping it around her so he cups one of her breasts. As soon as he grips her breast, his arm constricts and Ethan instinctively pulls her tight against him as if to never release her.

  Amie drifts off to sleep faster than she ever remembers, knowing she’s never felt safer in her life.

  Morning birds chirp with the sun peeking in the window. Amie’s comfort keeps her from moving even if his member pokes into her back. She slides her hand down her back, reaching behind her and gripping the morning stiffness. She smiles as she wraps her fingers around it. She works her hand along the shaft. A pleasured grunt escapes from his lips. Her work is met with a pulse of desire, but he remains asleep. She pulls her arm back to unclamp his hand from her breasts. As she slides from under the covers to retrieve her t-shirt, her eyes meet with Emily.

  DANZIGER REMEMBERS THE sting. He’s sure he felt a needle jab his right side. It was too clear and sharp a pain to have been a dream. Now in his groggy state, he resists the manhandling of his limbs.

  “Fucking murderer,” a voice screams.

  Danziger has no idea what’s happening until handcuffs bite into his wrist. They sting from more than just the cuff pressure.

  They want to restrain me. Naturally, I resist, but that may not be the best option. If I could clear my head, I wouldn’t have fought them. They didn’t have to drug me. I would have cuffed up to meet with Ethan.

  No screams of “fucking murderer” taint his ears again.

  They think I killed someone.

  He has put up little resistance. Danzi
ger needs to clear his mind before he—

  The slam against the wall with the pressure still on his chest jars him enough to be able to open his eyes.

  His fever. They brought him food. His wrists burned. What happened?

  Wanikiya—not a trained fighter. His towering size and strength allows him to toss much smaller men around. The Sioux, in full warrior mode, pins Danziger to the wall with his boot while he secures a man in a headlock with his left arm and holds a second man to the bars with his gleaming tomahawk.

  “We are civilized,” Wanikiya reminds them. He drops the breathless man to the floor.

  Danziger’s fingers are stuck together. Something has congealed over them. He needs to eat something. That might help him to metabolize the drug from that needle stick.

  “We have our rules.”

  The man on the floor pants for breath. “He’s covered in her blood.”

  Fuck. That’s what’s sticky. Levin. He has killed and framed me. It’s the only logical explanation. He set me up. Now any claim I make against him will only make me the crazy one. Okay, Danziger, you have to clear your head and think about this. They clearly have due process they want to follow, but it has little room for reasonable doubt when you are covered in the victim’s blood.

  “Cuff his hands,” Wanikiya orders. “And back out of here, Ryan.”

  Danziger holds up his arms to allow to be cuffed. Once he feels the bite on both wrists, the pressure on his chest relinquishes.

  “Get me Dr. Baker and then Dr. Sterling. Be quick and quiet. You announce murder and I won’t feed you for a week.”

  Going to bed without supper. Before Danziger blows off that threatened punishment, he ponders that a week without food would be severe. There’s no place to get more food. And if they are willing to be that harsh then I could be put to death with no trial.

  “As for you, Ty, I should leave you a nice scar to remind everyone of your inability to follow the rules. But I won’t.” Wanikiya lowers the axe.

  “You haven’t seen Kayla’s body or you’d want him dead, too.” Ty rubs the red mark on his neck where the blade could have severed his aorta.

  “I want justice. This place won’t work if we turn to lynching. And this man was locked in this room.”

  “He’s covered in her blood,” Ty protests.

  “Compelling evidence, I agree.”

  Ryan returns with Dr. Baker.

  “What’s going on?”

  Wanikiya nudges Ty with his boot, promoting him to answer.

  “Our patrol this morning found a hand sticking from a shallow grave in the herb garden. It was nurse Kayla.”

  Dr. Baker notes the blood all over Danziger. “So, you find this newcomer and drug him in here to beat a confession out of him?”

  “No. We found him in here sleeping, covered in her blood.”

  Dr. Baker kneels to be eye level with Ty. “How do you know it was her blood?”

  “I don’t.”

  “If this man committed murder we have to be sure before we take action. We won’t allow such a savage act to turn us into savages.” Dr. Baker rises. He witnesses firsthand how Ethan handles a rape conviction. He’s not keen on frontier justice even for murder. “We need to photograph the body and him before any more evidence is destroyed. I’ll test the blood on him and her and see if they are the same type.”

  “That will be a start.”

  Wanikiya and the doctor both glare at Danziger.

  “I was locked in here all night.” His only defense.

  “The door?” Wanikiya nudges Ty with his boot again.

  “It was locked and he was in a deep sleep,” Ty says.

  “If you’re going to gather evidence, then you should examine at my side. Last night I felt something jab me. Here.” He points to the spot.

  “Lie down,” Dr. Baker orders.

  Danziger complies. He seems to want reasonable doubt or at least to compile evidence before they execute me.

  Dr. Baker palpates the skin. “Take a picture of that. It’s a needle stick.”

  “Why would anyone here set this man up?” Wanikiya asks.

  Time for the insanity defense. “I told you I was a cop. I was tracking a serial killer. I think the military convoy trucks I saw parked outside rescued him. I think he saw me before I could prove he was here.”

  “So, he sets you up to take the fall for his murders. Why not tell us as soon as you arrived?” Wanikiya asks.

  “I have been asking to speak with Ethan. I didn’t want to alert this killer I was here, and I didn’t want to come across as a lunatic. Levin has wounds, and I caused them.” A risk to admit but I need to restore some credibility.

  “You passed out three days ago from your fever. Cop or not, why keep chasing this guy? It gains you nothing in a world where you can’t even eat every day.”

  “One of his victims was my daughter.”

  KALE BOWLIN, THE youngest of five brothers, kicks his way past empty beer cans and liquor bottles. Forced to step over stoned, naked people who just collapsed to sleep when finished with their throws of raw animal passion. A drug fueled orgy of decadence—it sickens him.

  Being the youngest, he knows, or knew full well, of the fetish depravities of his older brothers. Those urges cost three of them their lives. If he doesn’t stop the remaining one, they won’t have the supplies survive now Fort Wood’s been destroyed. His march across the minefield of passed out drunks concludes at a recliner where a brunette bobs her head up and down at brother number four’s crouch.

  Kale laces his fingers into her hair and pulls her up. Her dirty face is marked with slobbers of spittle. He flings her to the floor.

  Kaleb’s eyes flash open. “Why’d you stop, bitch?” He rears up, ready to slap her when he spots his youngest brother. “What the fuck you think you’re doing interrupting me?”

  As much as he forces his eyes not to, they spot his brother’s flaccid manhood.

  “She’s been fucking sucking all night; I was about to get hard.”

  “Maybe you should lay off the meth,” Kale advises.

  “You should try fucking on that shit, little bro.”

  “I see the results for myself.” Kale tosses a throw pillow over his brother. “It has left you enfeebled. Now, since you’re unable to rise—get out of the chair and find your pants.”

  “You fuckin’ can’t order me around; I’m older than you. Kade left me in charge.”

  “And in the week of your rule you’ve allowed half a year’s food to be devoured. Kade would never allow this to go on. Now get up. Quit worrying about your penis and rule this camp, or it won’t matter if you can get hard or not.”

  Kaleb trips over his own pants as he lunges for Kale. He falls onto a slumbering couple. In their drug-induced state, they take little notice except to grunt from the impact.

  Kale marches to the door. “This ends now.”

  Kaleb staggers onto the porch covering his eyes from the morning sunlight. “I need to eat first, you little shit.”

  “I’m sure food in your stomach would help you to metabolize the drugs in your system, but more than likely you’d just vomit and waste what little food we have left.” He visually surveys the farm. “There are no guards at the gate and with everyone passed out from your parties, because I lack the vernacular to describe what goes on in there, anyone could drive up and steal what diminutive amounts we have left.”

  “Little bro, the world has ended and, well… It’s time to par-tay.” He makes the rock-n-roll sign with his right hand and flicks his Gene Simmons tongue at him.

  “The world has not ended. It has been reborn, and we’re here at its inception. We build what we want it to be.”

  “I want it to be an orgy.” Kaleb sniffs at the back of his hand as if he were drawing in coke.

  “Which you have done. When the people figure out you have no food supply, how much longer do you think they will follow you? Any of those girls will pleasure you orally if you don’t have me
at scraps to throw them?”

  “Why don’t you just say ‘fuck’?”

  “The use of inappropriate social language shows a lack of creative intelligence. Despite our hillbilly upbringing, I utilize my education. Not only would I have been the first Bowlin to attend college, I was prepared to graduate in three years with a Master’s.”

  “Mommy said you were the smart one. It took her five tries, but you got some brains.”

  “Mother, may she rest in peace, was correct. Despite Father’s ruined sperm count after years of drinking, I retain the highest of intelligence,” Kale says.

  “Then use it to fix our food problem.”

  “Since many of these men were loyal to Kade, they look to you for leadership. I will tell you what to do. You’ll lead these people and we will rebuild this world as we want it to be.”

  “I want pussy.”

  “If you are good I’ll allow rewards.” He waves a blister pack of four blue pills before Kaleb.

  As Kaleb reaches for them, Kale jerks them out of reach. “Only after we get this camp functional. I’d wager half those women we brought here as sex slaves are now with child. We’re not equipped to raise children.”

  “What do we do first, little bro?”

  “First, find someone with enough sobriety to stand guard at the main gate. Then you and I are going to interrogate the agent assigned here by FEMA. After what our brother did to her, I’m sure she’ll answer all my questions.”

  Why would a government agency want to use this farm as a staging point to help people during a disaster? Converting the barn into a loading bay to pull semi-trucks completely inside to hide them from aerial view while they unload makes little sense for an agency mandated to assist in disaster relief. FEMA never got a chance to finish stocking this place with provisions. The location’s too far out of the way from major cities for effective distribution of emergency supplies. Unless there was a reason for it I have yet to uncover, Kale wonders.