Ashe was kind enough to leave me on watch while she got up and got some things done. She insisted I rest while she filtered and bottled more water for travel, keeping herself busy. The hangover began to subside in the early afternoon after another bottle of water and something to eat. I finally got around to doing something other than lounge on the front porch of the farmhouse watching out for non-existent zombies.
Ashe returned to the front porch and spoke in a tone that indicated she was proud of her accomplishment as she should have been. “So, the bottles are all full and ready to go, there is a dam about fifty meters behind the house, so I filtered enough to stock us up completely and brought enough water up to the house for us to wash up a bit. I don’t know about you, but I need it. But we should be good here for a few days at least.”
I nodded my thanks as I worked through cleaning each of the guns and knives. A short time later, I picked up my rifle and walked out into the front yard of the farmhouse. It was a small area long overgrown with weeds that had once been a beautifully manicured garden area. It was surrounded by a rusty wire fence, offering a little extra security from zombies. “Do you think you can get a fire going before dark?” I asked Ashe as my eyes wandered, catching sight of a small group of kangaroos just a few hundred meters east of the house.
Ashe shrugged. “I can get a fire pit ready for sure if you can find some flint to start one, there doesn’t seem to be much here.”
I smiled, noting the lack of gravel in the immediate proximity of the house. “I’ll have a look while I’m out,” I replied.
“Where are you going?” Ashe asked curiously.
“Dinner. I won’t be long,” I said as I walked out of the front yard and across the old overgrown dirt road. The plains surrounding the farmhouse were quite green, indicating irrigation had been built at some point, but the surrounding area was still quite barren for sustaining life in the long term, at least without a sizable group to complete all the necessary daily tasks efficiently. One short drought and we would be dead in a season if we stayed local. That fact alone ruled the house out as a viable option to hold up in the long term, at least not without a settlement nearby to trade with. But a few days to rest up and take in some protein was a more than welcome change from the constant travelling.
Putting a kangaroo down and butchering it seemed like a great idea though, especially knowing Ashe was now going to need the additional protein given her current situation. I also didn’t like how thin slave life had made her, so I vowed to make sure she got plenty of food while she was around me – especially if she was going to stay. Once I was nearly a kilometre from the house, the terrain had begun to turn from farmland to arid plains stretching out all the way to the foot of the low laying mountain range to the east. The exposed dark reddish/brown soil and a few acacia trees and tufts of grass and shrubs covered the land with only very sporadic vegetation. The landscape provided limited shade to the local wildlife as I knelt by a fallen log catching sight of a group of kangaroos lounging on a distant pile of rocks by a small creek bed. I almost felt pity for them, they had probably not seen live humans in decades and no longer feared us as they had in the old world. I fired a single shot, killing a large male instantly when the bullet passed through his skull. I listened for the sound of an echo and grew concerned when none was except the dull sound bouncing off the mountains. Echoes meant the sound would be difficult to pinpoint, without which, zombies and humans would hear it from a very long distance. Thankfully the temperature was still quite hot, which limited the distance of the sound somewhat, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out if anyone heard it.
I rushed to the lagoon, watching as the Kangaroos scattered, spooked by the gunshot. My kill was a good one, heavy and far too big to carry the now 2-3 kilometres back to the house, so I unsheathed the knife, removing its hide and taking one of his legs, heart, tongue, liver, and kidneys. All of which would provide us with some much-needed protein and nutrition. The rest of the carcass was left to rot while I returned to the house at dusk finding Ashe kneeling by a well-built firepit in the front yard. The hole she dug in the ground would do the job and surrounded with rocks to conceal the flames from a distance. She was striking a pair of stones over some dry grass trying desperately to get it going, looking up with a slightly disappointed smile as she realised I had arrived and there was no fire yet. “No luck with the flint?” she asked, eying off the fresh meat.
“Sadly not, it’s pretty barren out there and no flint around that I could see.”
“Damn,” she said under her breath before returning to the tiny rock she had found while building the pit. “I found this one in one of the garden beds, but it’s too small.”
“It’s okay, give me a minute, and I’ll see if I can help, the knife blade might work better,” I said warmly, as I hung the carcass and organs from the roof of the porch using some wire. The meat hung over the grass to let the blood drain in preparation for a feast. Once finished, I handed my knife to Ashe, who dutifully cleaned it off and returned to the firepit, trying to use the flint on my knife. While I worked on preparing the meat. My eyes constantly wandering to Ashe and her red ponytail and to the kiss that now preoccupied my mind.
Eventually, I was able to break away from the distraction, surveying our surroundings to divert my attention away from my creeping thoughts. I caught sight of red dust rising in the distance to the north-east, a sign of movement just a few kilometres from us. It was unlikely to be a zombie herd, there was not enough dust. Whatever it was seemed to be moving a little too slowly for a vehicle, “Ashe! Get your gun, it looks like we might have company,” I said in a short tone to get her attention.
She looked up with a sense of urgency, asking, “Zombies?” before dropping what she was doing and rushing up to my side, readying herself. “How far away?”
“Looks like they are coming down the old highway, moving a too fast for zombies.”
“Fuck, I hope it’s not those fucking idiots again.”
“You and me both!” I answered. “Get inside and set up in one of the rooms upstairs. Give yourself a good view of the front yard!” I grabbed her arm before she rushed off, looking into her eyes for one fleeting moment adding, “Don’t shoot unless they open fire first. Don’t give away your position too quickly.”
She nodded then turned back to me, kissing me on the cheek before rushing inside, leaving me with a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach. My thoughts lingered for just a moment on her touch, before springing into action. I moved out into the overgrown farmland taking cover in the tall grass on the far side of the road, laying down in the thick vegetation. Ashe had settled down in the north-east bedroom window giving herself clear view of the yard and the north-east – holding her rifle up to the now open window. It was an obvious sign of her location since it was the only open window, but it was too late to move from my position. We waited and watched a hell of a lot longer than we would have if they were in vehicles.
Nevertheless, they were still kicking up dust as they approached. Ten minutes later, four horses came into view, but with the light fading fast, it was difficult to determine much about the riders. They stopped about a hundred meters from the house, catching sight of the hanging meat as two of them dismounted and dispersed into the nearby fields. These were no amateurs, they moved quietly and with purpose. Much more intelligently than the slavers that had been tracking us. The other two riders moved forward slowly on horseback, stopping just a few meters from the front yard. One was an older man, slim with short grey hair jutting out beneath his wide brim hat, while his companion hung back slightly, their features difficult to determine beneath the wide brim hat and long grey hair. The man at the head of the group announced himself, “You can come out, we mean you no harm, but I assure you if your intentions are not the same my boys will hunt you down.”
I signalled to Ashe to stay put and stood up slowly with my rifle pointing at the ground in front of the man. “Sorry if I scared you. I’m just trave
lling through and don’t want any trouble.”
“Just you?” the man asked suspiciously, looking around the yard.
I didn’t want to let a group of men know I had female company, even if Ashe’s position was rather obvious. I wasn’t sure how they would react to a female that was neither slave nor servant. And the idea of getting into a shootout with four well trained and seemingly well-armed men seemed like a bad idea. Did I say, men? I meant three men and a woman. The second rider was an older woman about the same age as the group’s leader, which made me relax slightly. Raiders and slavers were very unlikely to have female companions riding as equals. I chose not to answer and moved cautiously out of the grass and onto the road, so we were facing each other just a few meters apart. The woman held her rifle aimed at the ground in front of me, while the man lowered his gun slightly.
“Old-World or New?” the man asked, trying to guess my age. Though I suspected the question had deeper implications regarding my intentions.
I answered honestly, though perhaps not wisely. “New!” I paused, then added for clarification, “Just.” Aware that there was about a five to ten-year gap before people started breeding in any significant number again. I was one of the rare people born during that gap, and likely one of even fewer that survived.
He grunted, not sure what to make of my answer. He then spoke more forcefully, “Listen, I know you’re not alone, tell your friend to come on down from that room upstairs. As I said, we don’t want trouble, and I don’t like guns being pointed at my family or me.”
Having seen the woman with them, I at least had confidence that the presence of Ashe wasn’t going to cause any problems, so I looked up at her and signalled for her to come on out and join us. She hesitated but came down after a few seconds, her rifle still held firmly, pointing at the ground in front of the man and his companion. When she emerged from the shadows, the man visibly relaxed before letting out a warm smile, “Guessing you’re not a slave owner, then?” He joked, using similar logic to my own about them.
The man seemed genuine enough, though as I have stated many times, trust is not my strong point. I lowered my rifle, slinging it over my shoulder, but kept my hand close to the Glock. “Is there something we can help you with?” I asked, trying to get a better idea of the man’s intentions.
He dismounted from his horse, then approached cautiously. “I heard a gunshot, and then we noticed activity over this way, so we thought we’d come to check out who our new neighbours were.”
I supposed it was a scouting mission, but if they wanted to kill us they would have done it already. “Did you want to call your two boys in as well, we’re not looking for trouble either.”
The man nodded. “Since you so kindly did the same.” He turned and whistled, “Come on out, boys, we’re good here!” He then turned back to me and said, “Nice hunt, I was thinking of heading out tomorrow to grab one of those bucks,” he said gesturing to the hanging kangaroo meat.
“Thanks, sadly I didn’t have the storage to grab all of him, but I figure the crows and dingoes will have a feast long before the zombies find it around here.” I had a sudden idea to defuse the situation and decided to extend a gesture of goodwill to the man. “We probably have too much anyway, considering we will be moving on in a couple of days, so if you want to join us for dinner you and your family are welcome.”
The rest of the man’s group seemed to relax, their hunger seemingly getting the better of them as they moved forward. The man smiled realising that the vote was done in his group. “Sounds great, son. I think my family and I would be delighted to join you and your wife here for dinner. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jack, and this is Ashe – and no, we are not married. As I said, we were just travelling through and came across this place. Figured we would take a few days to rest and recover some energy from a long trip.”
“I’m guessing you came from up North?”
“We did, though I can’t say I’m from the north.” I was sure he would understand the implications of my words, given his relief at the idea that we were not slavers.
His expression was stoic and difficult to read, but the sight of Ashe seemed to bring a smile to the man. She approached my side, putting an arm around me, asking, “Would any of you have some flint so I can get this fire going? Jack here was kind enough to bring me food to cook, but nothing to cook it with!” she teased, before leaning up to kiss me on the cheek.
The man let out a small laugh. “Sweetheart, I’ll do you one better!” He pulled out a box of matches and handed it to her. “Keep the box, we make them for trade, and if you want more, let me know. I’m sure we can work out a deal!”
Ashe excitedly took the box and said: “Thank you so much, Mr …” She paused, waiting for him to fill in the blank realising he had not provided the relevant information yet.
He smiled warmly, his demeanour completely changed by Ashes presence, she seemed to have a natural ability to ease the tension in most situations. “McRae, but you can call me Hank sweetheart. This is my wife, Charlotte and my sons, Tommy and Dan.”
In just a few seconds and with a warm smile, Ashe had diffused all tension between the two groups. The woman and the two boys went with her to start the fire leaving Hank and me alone on the side of the road. “Have you guys done much scavenging in these houses?” I asked him.
“No, we tend to stick to the hills as much as we can. Scavenging just isn’t something we do too much of these days.”
I nodded, understanding the implication of his statement. Most well-established settlements didn’t spend a lot of time scavenging, it was a waste of time and resources with no guarantee of return. Best to make something to trade with other groups and survivors that had already done the hard work, especially with so many houses having been picked clean over the decades since the outbreak. I gestured him to follow me into the house, as I led us both to the whiskey cabinet, pulling out another nice bottle of single malt and pouring us both a glass. “Son, I have not had good whiskey since before the Outbreak,” Hank confessed, accepting the glass gratefully and taking in a long drawn out smell, “No sir, that’s definitely not the shit I make back home. That is a genuine single malt!” He held the glass out to cheers mine before taking a long drawn out sip from the drink.
Ashe laughed, “Not too much tonight, please!” she teased.
I walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek, her expression softening. “Just a peace offering.”
She lent up and kissed me back, then made her way back into the kitchen before heading back outside with a bottle of wine. She winked teasingly, then joking said: “You have your whiskey, and I’ll have my wine!”
“Shiraz! Nice choice,” Hank said warmly, adding, “My Charlotte will love that!”
She reached into the cabinet and collected two glasses before heading back outside.
Hank was smiling. “Ah, to be young again,” he said under his breath, adding, “My Charlotte and your Ashe are gonna be great friends, I think.”
“Somehow I think you are right!” I joked, finishing the glass and pouring another.
We headed back outside to join them. The two boys were seated by the fire which was now building into a small inferno, while Ashe and Charlotte seemed to have found themselves sitting opposite a small table on the porch sharing stories. I brought the bottle out with us with two more glasses, but Hank insisted the boys were too young to drink – he was Old-world in the best possible way. Night had settled in, and it turned out to be quite a pleasant evening. In the end, they decided to stay in the house with us for the night, Hank was too drunk to ride at least according to Charlotte, who insisted they could head home in the morning.
We stayed up late, enjoying a plentiful supply of food, water and alcohol. Everyone went to bed with full stomachs and far too much to drink. Ashe and I insisted Hank and Charlotte take the Master bedroom, while the boys took a single room each. They were thirteen and fourteen years old and had no intention of shari
ng.
There were two more spare rooms, but Ashe insisted she did not want to sleep alone, so we shared the corner room she had setup up in earlier. I certainly did not complain, I enjoyed her company. I drunkenly crawled into bed as she stripped out of her clothes, changing into a clean, loose-fitting dress and a towel before crawling in beside me.
It was the first time I had seen her naked, and the sight of her bones jutting out from her wiry frame reminded me once more of what she had been through. Where she might have been had things not gone the way they had. She fell asleep next to me, my arm wrapped gently around her, I checked the Glock was in position under the pillow, and my knife was still attached to my hip before relaxing and enjoying her warmth.
I still held onto my trust issues despite the McRae family seeming completely genuine, it was just my nature. Hank, too, seemed a little unsettled sharing a house with a pair of strangers. But they did seem like good people, and I figured that they must be well set up somewhere nearby, which meant there might be a good opportunity for some trading in the coming days.
It didn’t take long for my mind to surrender to the alcohol, though. I tried desperately to stay awake and alert, but my eyes eventually gave in.
Chapter 6 – (Outlaws)
Sunlight blazed through the window, bringing me out of my sleep the moment I opened my eyes. It was still on the horizon to the east just peeking above the mountains, bathing us in the warm morning light. It was still very early but still later than I preferred.
Ashe barely seemed to stir when I unwrapped myself from her embrace, she was no doubt exhausted after the long trip. As I sat up, I looked over her body and noticed that she had begun to put on a little weight even with the meagre offerings we had shared. The dress she had found was from this room’s former occupant, meant her pants had been allowed to dry properly while her body and indeed her mind dealt with months of neglect and abuse. I left her asleep while I gathered my rifle and headed out of the bedroom door and downstairs to the front porch.
Desolation (Book 1): Aftermath Page 9