“No harm in asking,” Mark said, shaking his head and walking away while Art looked on with an expression of disapproval and disgust.
Ellen put together a meal for all of them and they seated themselves at the big table in the dining room. Jake was about to dig in when Ellen cleared her throat and gave him a glance. He looked up and saw her and Art with their heads bowed and their hands together in front of them and put down his fork while Art said grace.
The dinner was probably the best meal Jake had had since the outbreak and he complimented Ellen on it. She shrugged it off, saying she wished she could have had more to work with. After the meal, the three women cleaned up, Vickie and Carolyn coming down from their high, while Jake and Art set about securing the doors and windows and bringing in more of the supplies, Mark standing watch with a Colt pistol in hand. It was getting dark by the time they finished and, back inside they found that Ellen had directed the others in hanging heavy blankets over all the windows so they could light the lanterns Art picked up at the sporting goods store, and had pulled out the sofa bed and made it up for Jake. They said their goodnights and headed for the bedrooms when Jake stopped Vickie and Carolyn at the foot of the stairs.
“I trust we'll all be able to get a good night's sleep tonight?”
“We'll keep it down,” Carolyn assured him.
Jake started to say something, then glanced up to see Art at the top of the stairs, glaring at the girls. Art turned and followed Ellen into their bedroom and Jake shooed the girls off, hoping he was reading too much into Art’s look. He sat on the edge of the sofa bed, pulling his shoes and pants off. His shoulder still ached, much more than he ever let on, and his leg still throbbed some from the bruise the jaws of the infected had made. He stretched and worked both shoulder and leg a bit before lying down.
Sometime after midnight, a sound woke him and he opened his eyes and could just make out Vickie approaching the sofa bed.
“Everything okay?” he asked her.
“Not really. I screwed up again, didn't I?
“Well, you didn't shoot me while I wasn't looking, so that's definitely a plus.”
“Getting high with Carolyn, I just... I don't know. It seemed like a way to relieve some of the tension, some of the strain, and have some fun for a change. It hit us a lot harder than we expected and I guess I acted really stupid there in the car. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to disappoint you yet again and make you feel like I was just some stupid little tramp.”
“You did tick me off, but I don’t think of you that way at all. I'm… I’m very glad to have you with me, Vickie, but you were both acting like idiots. What was that all about anyway, that display you put on in the car?”
“Honestly? I was actually hoping it would turn you on.”
“Oh, for-. I know, it’s very evident you and Carolyn have something going on now,” he began
“I could be with you,” she interrupted, sitting down next to him on the bed. “I want to be with you.”
“Let's not go into that right now. It's going to be hard enough for me to get back to sleep as it is. You should go back up to Carolyn.”
Vickie leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth, letting her parted lips linger against his.
“I’m not going to stop feeling this way,” she told him. “Sooner or later, we’ll have to talk about it.” Then, reluctantly, she got up and went back upstairs.
Jake lay there wide-awake for another hour trying to get her image, her touch, the taste of her lips out of his mind.
Chapter 20: Company Arrives
Jake was the first one up in the morning, having slept only fitfully through the night. He found an old percolator in one of the cabinets, filled it with water, put coffee grounds in the basket and placed it on a stove burner. While waiting for it to brew, he walked out onto the porch with his binoculars and a shotgun. All was clear near the house, though he could see the odd infected here and there too far away to be worrisome. Satisfied for now, he went back into the kitchen and emerged with a steaming cup, leaned his shotgun against the railing and sat in a big wooden rocker on the porch. Just for a few moments, with a cup of black coffee and a cigarette, he enjoyed the scenery; the tall grass waving with the breeze in the sunbathed fields and a clear, blue sky with only a few wisps of cloud. The image of Carolyn sunbathing back behind the house on the island invaded his head and he tried to shut it out, only to have it replaced by the memory of Vickie's lips against his own the night before.
His reverie was interrupted as the screen door opened and Art walked out onto the porch with his own coffee, taking the chair next to Jake, nodding a greeting.
“Beautiful day, isn't it? Almost enough to make this whole apocalypse thing seem unreal.”
“Almost,” Jake let the word out with a sigh. “What do you think, Art? Will it ever get back to normal?”
Art took a sip of coffee and gazed out onto the landscape, drinking in the beauty of nature for a while before answering.
“I hope to God it does. I have faith that it will. Do you believe differently?”
“For a while, I was sure that we'd get through this thing. When we were on the island, I thought the worst had passed. Since we were driven out, since just about every other human being we've met or even heard about besides you and Ellen and Mark have been at least as bad as the infected, I just don't know if I believe it anymore.”
Art nodded and continued looking over the fields.
“Do you believe in God, Jake?”
“I do,” Jake answered warily. “Are you going to tell me that this is all part of God's plan? That this is some kind of test we have to pass?”
“I don't know I'd put it exactly that way, but I do believe that He has sent us a warning. Maybe it's time we welcomed Him back into our lives and forget all this political correctness about not wanting to offend mere mortals with the mention of His name.”
“No offense, Art, but this isn't a discussion I want to get into right now.”
“When is a better time? Don't you think that God's law must take precedence over man's?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Sinful behavior, denying God, avoiding the mention of His name, taking Him out of our daily lives, out of our schools, out of our government. The fact that the use of illicit drugs and the wickedness of wanton sex outside of marriage have become so prevalent. The perversity of men sleeping with men, women with women.”
“Hold on, now! You said yourself that Mark saved your life! Shouldn't that count more in your mind than which gender he prefers?”
“He did indeed save us, for which I thank him, but he also saved himself by fighting off those two godless savages so it wasn't an entirely selfless deed. And I'm not just talking about him; I'm also talking about women like Vickie and Carolyn. Oh, yes, I know what's going on between them. I have eyes and have seen the way they behave toward each other, and I have ears and I heard them in their room last night. That’s not to even mention their evil use of drugs.”
“Stop it, Art! Just drop it! Vickie and Carolyn are good people. I don't know Mark as well, but I think he's a good person also. And I thought you were, too. We don't have time for this bull anymore. We need each other too much to let trivial nonsense like this divide us.”
“I've spoken my peace,” Art said, leaning back in his chair.
“You can believe whatever you want, Art. But, I would defend them from harm the same way I would defend my own family.”
“Is that a warning, Jake?”
“You can infer whatever you want from that.”
At that moment, Mark walked out carrying a cup in his uninjured hand, said good morning to both of them, and sat on the porch step. Vickie and Carolyn came out a moment later, saying that Ellen had kicked them out of the kitchen because she wanted to make breakfast herself. The minutes passed in silence as they each enjoyed the beauty of a new day, but Jake noted that Art looked disdainfully at each of them before giving Jake
the same, disapproving look.
“Breakfast is ready,” they finally heard Ellen call from inside and they made their way in to the dining room where she'd set up hotcakes, home fries, slices of canned ham, warmed syrup, dried fruit and a large carafe of coffee. Art said grace, adding that he prayed for God to forgive man's transgressions, and they all complimented Ellen on a delicious meal. Jake kept a wary eye on him, but Art did nothing overt to indicate he had a problem with anyone at the table and Jake hoped that the matter was dropped.
After Ellen showed them the hand worked water pump in the back yard, Vickie and Carolyn shooed her out of the kitchen saying they'd take care of the dishes while she took a break. She and the men walked around the yard, Jake and Art discussing how to improve on the waist-high picket fence while Ellen noted the sad state of the neglected flower and vegetable gardens and Mark told her he could still help to weed and hoe with his one good arm. There was a barn a hundred feet from the house, brick about four feet high and wood the rest of the way up and they figured it could be used as a backup defense position if the house became untenable. It may once have stabled livestock, but the floor had been paved with concrete and there was a '65 Mustang in mint condition and a '72 'Vette in an advanced state of restoration along with a well-equipped workshop.
“Too bad,” Mark said ruefully. “It looks like whoever did this really knew their stuff. I wonder what was in the other two stalls.”
“I hope the guy survived,” Jake said. “We'll need people who are good with their hands.”
“So, you do believe this will one day pass,” Art said, casting a sidelong glance at Jake.
“We can only hope.”
Ellen found some gardening tools in a small shed and she and Mark began to putter in the vegetable garden while Jake and Art began taking eight foot 4 by 4's that were stacked at one end of the barn out to the yard to get an idea of how far they might go in building up the fence. Vickie and Carolyn came out the back door a few minutes later and Jake looked around at all his companions.
“We need someone on guard, someone to watch the road and alert us if any infected start heading this way, or if there's any traffic on the road. Mark, why don't you take the first watch? Take the binoculars and go up on the second floor porch and keep lookout. Someone will spell you in a couple hours.”
“Okay. But Ellen and I can whip this garden into order and maybe we'll have some fresh vegetables in a few weeks.”
“Fair enough. How about you, Art?”
“Yeah, I'll take first watch.”
He headed for the house while Ellen and Mark continued working on the garden and Vickie and Carolyn helped Jake carry out the rest of the 4 by 4s. Mark was handling the hoe surprisingly well with only one good arm, but the toll it was taking on his broken arm was very apparent after two hours of working.
“That's enough for now, Mark,” Jake finally told him. “Come on inside. We'll go up and tell Art you're relieving him.”
“You don't want me to be alone with Art, do you?”
“Well, it might avoid problems if you weren't.”
“I know how Art feels about me. I've had the lecture already. I know I'm going to hell unless I reform my ways and ask forgiveness, blah, blah, blah. Believe me, he's not the first one to give me that talk. He's harmless, though. Right, Ellen?”
“Art can be pretty set in his ways. His father was a fire and brimstone preacher and his older brother followed in his footsteps. But he would never do anything to Mark. Until the dead began to rise, he'd never so much as hurt a fly in all the time I've known him.”
Jake was about to explain that the dead hadn't really risen, but instead, just smiled at Ellen and told Mark, “Okay. I'll take your word. Sing out if you see anything we need to know about.” He had a talk with Vickie and Carolyn and explained the need for them to keep a low profile around Art and, much to his amazement, they both agreed without argument, though Carolyn seemed none too happy about it.
They spent a couple of hours nailing heavy boards over the downstairs windows, sealing them against unwanted entry, but also cutting off most of the light from outside. Jake and Art figured out they didn't have near enough wood to improve the fence around the whole yard, so they set out to build a barrier ten feet out from the house in front and back, digging holes into which to set the 4 by 4s, bracing them with 2 by 4s from another pile. There were two rolls of barbed wire behind the barn and they would eventually string that between the uprights.
Along about one in the afternoon, Ellen had sandwiches for everyone made with peanut butter and grape preserves she found in the basement and the last of the bread Vickie had baked on the island.
After eating, Vickie took a turn on the porch while the others continued working on the barrier.
For four days, except for taking down the occasional lone wanderer they lived a quiet existence, working on the barrier and the garden, preparing the barn for possible habitation, which, much to Jake and Mark's regret, entailed pushing the 'Vette out into the yard and driving the Mustang out to block the driveway. It was back breaking work, digging the postholes, and Art was of only limited use due to his age and an arthritic hip and Mark’s broken arm rendered him nearly useless at digging. Vickie and Carolyn pitched in, but Jake did far more than his share, doing his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He went to bed exhausted every night, so much so, that he didn't even notice when Vickie went to his bed the third night, kissed his cheek and lay down by his side, head on his good shoulder and arm across his chest, staying with him for twenty minutes until Carolyn came down to see what had happened to her.
After breakfast on the morning of the fifth day, Ellen proclaimed that they had done enough work for a while and they all needed a day of rest and relaxation, though everyone knew she was mostly concerned about Jake overdoing it. That his shoulder was causing him misery was quite apparent by then, he was still slightly but noticeably favoring his injured leg, and she knew he couldn't keep that pace up much longer. Jake was more than happy to be given an excuse to take it easy and he didn't even try to put up an argument and settled into a deck chair on the porch with a glass of lemonade made with cool well water and powdered mix. The combination of cool breeze, warm sun and quiet, happy conversation had him on the verge of napping when they all heard Mark yell from the upper porch, “Car!”
Jake leapt from the chair, grabbed his shotgun and crossed to the drainage ditch on the other side of the road, crouching in the high weeds while the others disappeared into the house. Minutes later, a battered and dirty SUV approached, coughing and sputtering, and slowed to a stop in front of the house. The driver's door opened and a man several years older than Jake, a couple inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter emerged with a large revolver in his hand. He leaned back in the vehicle to say something to whomever else was inside, then shut the door and moved around the front of the car to approach the house.
Jake rose up, racked the slide on the shotgun and called “Freeze or I'll cut you in half!”
The man froze. Jake told him to drop the weapon and hold his arms straight out from his sides. The man did so. Shotgun leveled at his back Jake called out for Art and Mark and Art leaned out the door with an AR leveled at the man and Mark showed himself on the upper porch with another AR. Vickie and Carolyn both aimed rifles through openings left in the boarded up windows.
“Now, tell whoever else is in the car to open all the doors wide and come out with their hands empty or we'll just start spraying it with bullets!”
“Do as he says,” the man shouted. “Please, mister, that's my wife and daughter! We don't mean you any harm! We're just looking for a safe place to stay! Let us go and we'll never come back this way again, I swear!”
A woman in her mid-thirties and a girl of sixteen hesitantly exited the car. The woman was tall and very thin, nearly to the point of looking anorexic, and had long, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. The girl was just a bit shorter than Vickie, with short, very dark black hair, v
ery Goth looking. Both were shaking with fright, faces haggard and gaunt, eyes wide. They huddled close together and the man took a step toward them and Jake warned him to stop, which he did.
Jake came up out of the ditch and looked inside the car, seeing it filled with clothing and bottles of water and a small amount of canned food and looking like they had been living in it for some time. There were two .22 pistols on the floor, one up front and one in back and he gathered them both up and shoved them in his pockets. He waved to Art, who came out and covered the man with his rifle while Jake picked up the .44 magnum pistol he'd dropped and quickly frisked him, finding nothing of any interest.
“All right, you can put your hands down, but don't do anything to make me have to kill you!”
“Please, mister! We're no threat to you! We're just trying to stay alive! We didn't know anyone had a claim on this house already! Just let us go and we'll move on!”
The girl began to cry and clung to her mother, who hugged her close and began sobbing along with her.
“Shame on the both of you!” Ellen's angry voice called from the porch and she strode up to the mother and daughter, gathering them in her arms. “Come on inside,” she told them gently. “We have food and water, you can get cleaned up and sleep under a roof tonight without worrying about those things out there. And you two,” she turned harshly on Art and Jake. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, scaring these poor people half to death like that!” And, with that, she ushered the woman and her daughter into the house.
“Well,” Jake said, sheepishly, “I guess we just got told off. What's your name, buddy?
“I'm Tom. Tom Carroll. That's my wife, Liz and my daughter, Eve.”
“Tom, I'm Jake Harper and this is Art Honeywell. Come on into the house and get something to eat, but I still don't know you well enough yet, so don't do anything you might not live to regret.”
Inside, Liz and Eve were sitting at the table with Vickie and Carolyn, looking a lot less frightened. Ellen was heating up a big can of beef stew in a pot on the stove and each of the newcomers already had a glass of reconstituted milk and some packaged snack cakes in front of them. Tom sat down and introductions were made. Art was detailed to move the car off the road and Jake was friendly, but wary.
The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy Page 14