The look he gives his daughter is blatant adoration. Rose reflects it back, and, not for the first time, I wish Clara would look at me that way. I want that ease between us, but maybe it will come in time.
I retrieve my large water bottle from the floor beside my cot and hand it to Rose. “Be right back,” she says. “Daddy, do you need water?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer and takes his bottle with her, too. “She can boss a fellow around sometimes,” Sam says.
“A fellow needs to be bossed around sometimes,” Rose calls from her side of the curtain. “Did you forget I’m right here?”
Sam winks at me. “Whoops.”
I pack an extra knife but leave my pistol, since they’ll give me a gun today. The gun rules are growing laxer by the minute now that they need the help of civilians.
Rose appears with my bottle. “Straight from the tap.”
I laugh and shove it into my bag. “Thanks.”
She delivers Sam his water, then leaves when she hears the kids’ voices. Once I’m all zipped up, I follow with Sam and find Rose in the hall area, her hand on Jesse’s cheek. “Be careful. Please.”
“I will.” Jesse wears a new leather coat, a knife and M9 at his hip, and a remarkably patient smile. He might be putting on a brave face for his mom, for Holly and Clara, but I don’t think so. Jesse has the right amount of wariness in his expression, stands tall with shoulders squared instead of swaggering. “Tom, Barry sent me to tell you we leave in ten.”
He hands me my own M9 and a holster, which I attach to my belt. “I’m ready.”
Mitch joins us as we head for the parking lot. “Came to see you off, boyo,” she says to Jesse, linking arms with Rose. “And to pick up your mother when she faints after you leave.”
Rose laughs along with everyone else, though she bumps Mitch with her hip. It’s the seven of us as it was at the house, and it feels right. Comfortable.
“Leaving without me?” Ethan asks, striding up to our group. Holly moves to his side, and he puts an arm over her shoulders.
“I thought you’d gone to the truck already.” Rose’s voice is tense. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ethan says. “Leave poor old dad to fend for himself, as usual.” Holly giggles. Rose does not.
Two trucks sit at the side gate, and Barry nods at our approach. It isn’t often I feel on the smaller side, but Barry is a beast. A gentle beast, as far as I can tell. He taps the door of one box truck. “Ethan, you want to drive this one? Tom and Jesse will be with you.”
“Sounds good.” Ethan puts his hands on Rose’s shoulders and smiles down, and it’s not just wishful thinking that her answering smile appears strained. “We’ll be fine, Rosie.”
I check my knife when they kiss, swallowing down the bitter feeling that’s become all too familiar. Maybe Ethan has changed—or can change. I’ve changed, and I’d be an asshole if I insisted others can’t.
“Careful,” Clara says to Jesse while nibbling at her thumb.
“Later, Clary.” Jesse flashes white, even teeth, which I remember being full of metal years ago. Braces paid off, judging by Clara’s small sigh.
“Don’t get eaten,” she says lightly. But Clara’s tenseness, the worry in her eyes that maybe only I can see, bring home the certainty she feels more for Jesse than she wants to admit. She was the same as a little girl, refusing to watch movies for two years because one made her cry, as though punishing the entertainment industry for evoking emotion. Unfortunately, she got that trait from me. But if I can unlearn it, I know she can.
Fortunately, the kissing portion of the morning is over. Ethan hugs Holly and moves for the truck. Rose hugs Jesse tightly, then watches him walk after his dad before she turns to me. “See you this afternoon, right?”
“That’s right, Red.”
She smiles, and it’s clear where Jesse learned that bit. Everything about her joins in, from her eyes to how she rocks up onto her toes. Ethan didn’t get this smile. It’s petty as hell, but I call it as a point in my favor.
Clara walks me toward the truck, tucking her arm in mine. “Careful, Dad.”
“I will be, Clare-Bear. I promised Rose I’d look out for Jesse, too.”
“Thanks.” Clara stops at the rear of the truck. I pull her into a hug markedly different from the stiff ones we endured for years. When I release her, she leans in and whispers, “She likes you, too, you know.”
Before I can say a word, Clara winks and backs up to where Holly stands. I stare for a moment, then walk around to the passenger’s side. It isn’t until we drive through the gate that I realize Clara’s expression was a dead ringer for the ones between Rose and Sam.
Thirteenth Avenue was one-way, and it feels strange to drive the opposite direction on a street I’ve traveled hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Once we pass the outer barrier—two city buses—we’re out on the streets with whatever’s wandering around.
“They say it’s still pretty clear around here.” Ethan holds the wheel one-handed, his other arm on the window frame. “We’ll take Thirteenth to Eleventh. Then up Seneca to First and over to Bertelsen.”
I nod. It isn’t a bad choice, though I’d avoid Eleventh as much as possible if it were up to me. Ahead, Barry taps his brake lights. “Just a few, to the left, but watch out,” he says through the radio Jesse holds.
“Copy,” Jesse says, and releases the radio button. Then, to his dad, “Was that right? Copy?”
“Sure. No one cares as long as you respond.” Ethan moves the truck to the right, bypassing two raggedy men and a woman who lurch off the lawn of a small blue house. “Maybe we should check some of these houses. We could always use more clothes and medicine.”
The first few drops of rain hit the windshield as we travel west past stores offering tires, mattresses, and office supplies. Rose was right that there are some butt-ugly parts of Eugene, and it’s gotten even uglier with the addition of broken glass, abandoned cars, and dead bodies. The street is bordered by telephone poles whose many wires stretch into the distance, and the stunted trees are few and far between. So are zombies for the most part, though a few appear when the trucks roar by.
Ethan points at businesses that have been emptied. “They got a lot at Staples, believe it or not. The restaurants, too.”
He’s more animated than jittery, but it’s getting on my nerves. Jesse intersperses Ethan’s monologue with the appropriate uh-huhs and ohs. I listen, watching the world go by. Clara said Rose likes me, and as much as I should put that on the back burner, it’s taking up most of the space in my mind. She’s noticed something between us, and it seems she isn’t angry about it. Two things that are revelations unto themselves.
“Change of plans,” Barry says through the radio. “Up here to Fifth and then Seneca to First. Deb just called in, said the Fred Meyer parking lot is a bitch. Full of Lexers.”
We narrowly miss a collision when we round the corner. It’s industrial through here, and empty of bodies. I can’t bring myself to call them Lexers after calling them zombies for so long. Maybe it’s a psychological thing, to call them something else, but to forget what they are for even a second seems dangerous.
The north side of First Avenue is mainly trees, the south side the occasional building, and all are surrounded by wetlands. Always Ready isn’t far up the road, and I recall the warehouse I passed on my first trip to visit the owners.
“Did they check out the Bi-Mart distribution center?” I ask, though I’m sure they did.
“Not that I know of,” Ethan says. “Where is it?”
“Just down this road on the left.”
Ethan calls to the truck ahead. “Tom says there’s a Bi-Mart distribution center up the road. Did you guys get to it?”
“Well, shit,” Barry says. “No, we never came this way. It was blocked from the east. It’s on First?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll check it out.”
Barry’s truck slows soon after, and his arm comes out the window, finge
r pointed at the red and white Bi-Mart sign affixed to a chain-link fence. It cordons off a long driveway, which leads to another gated fence and one-man guardhouse. Behind that is a large concrete building with a few tractor-trailers parked ass-end to the loading docks.
Ethan pulls alongside Barry. After a scan of the street—nothing in either direction—we leave the trucks. Nora rides with Barry and a tall, thin man named Jared, who nods at me. I nod back.
“Looks closed,” Barry says. “That’s promising. Think we should try it? Bi-Mart’s got a lot more than grains.”
Bi-Mart has all kinds of useful things. Sheila teased me for shopping at what she deemed an old man store, but it reminded me of the five-and-dimes that were on their way out when I was a kid. They carried everything from hunting and camping supplies to packaged foods to hardware, home goods, and medicines.
“They’ll have air mattresses, cots, and sleeping bags,” I say. “Flashlights and batteries, too.”
“Sold.” Barry returns to his truck, leans inside, and emerges with a bolt cutter that makes quick work of the lock.
I wave them into the vehicles. After they pass through, I pull the chain-link closed. It’s impossible to be silent, though I do my best before I get into my truck. So far, this outing is easy. The thought that it can’t last is forefront in my mind, although our trip to Always Ready went off without a hitch.
“You two are quiet,” Ethan says. “There’s nothing to worry about. Look at this place.”
Jesse shrugs and taps his leg. He’s been mostly silent, eyes roving our surroundings. I think we’re doing just fine. Better to be quiet so you can hear and see what’s coming.
“He’s always been a mama’s boy,” Ethan says. “Worry, worry, worry, just like Mama.” He knocks Jesse’s arm with his elbow and pulls to a stop in front of the building, where steps lead to the loading dock and an entry door. “Lighten up, Jess. I’m kidding.”
Ethan opens the door and hops out, missing the way Jesse’s expression has flattened into a deep, festering anger whose intensity takes me aback. I recognize it. I recognize myself in it. My father said the same about me, and it wasn’t a compliment.
“Full disclosure, from one mama’s boy to another,” I say. “Your mom asked me to watch out for you. But going on what I’ve seen so far, I’m not sure you need me to. Your head’s in the right place.”
Jesse’s eyes mellow. His mouth loosens from a hard line to a slight smile. Though he mainly favors his dad in looks, his spirit reminds me of Rose.
“Stick close anyway,” I say. “You know how she gets. She’ll probably interrogate us separately to see if our stories match.”
Jesse grins. “You think you’re kidding, but you’re right.”
I open my door, pausing when Jesse asks, “You were a mama’s boy?”
“Card-carrying member. You know what that means? We’re good with the ladies.”
Jesse laughs and follows me to the asphalt. The others wait outside the trucks, eyes on the entrance. There are a few cars in the lot, though their thick coating of pollen means they haven’t been moved in a while. Anything that sits still long enough in a Willamette Valley spring ends up the same.
“We’ll do the usual,” Barry says. “Give a knock, see who’s home, and go from there.”
I draw my knife. It’s done the job so far, but I want a better one. That’s another thing Bi-Mart carried: a wide selection of knives, guns, and ammo. As we take the steps to the dock, the daylight darkens a few shades. The light drizzle turns to rain, and the increasing wind blows it sideways under the overhang.
The door is locked tight. A window ten feet over offers a glimpse of office desks and an interior window that looks into the main storage area, though it’s pitch black.
Jared slams a fist into the door. I face the road. It’s still clear, but this hubbub could change that. After a full minute of pounding, he shrugs. “Nothing right here, anyway.”
“Let’s check it out,” Barry says.
The door is bolted shut, and a quick check of the loading doors proves they’re locked. However, the window is easy enough to break. Barry clears out the glass while Nora runs to the trucks for extra flashlights.
“I’ll go.” Jesse sets two hands on the ledge and jumps through with surprising agility. He takes a moment to look around with his flashlight, points in the direction of the door, and disappears into the dark. No wonder the kid is always fighting Rose to do more. I wasn’t buttering him up when I said he doesn’t need a babysitter, but I’m glad to see my opinion confirmed.
Two locks click, and then we’re inside. Light from the doorway reveals an open space with three forklifts by the wall. Tall shelves loom past the outer corner of the office, though it’s impossible to see what’s on them. We move slowly to where the room opens up, waving our flashlight beams.
“Wow,” Nora says.
Row after row of shelves fill the space, loaded with pallets of goods. Being spring, there’s seasonal stuff in the front: seeds and gardening tools along with Easter candy and baskets ready to travel to Bi-Mart stores in the area. The next row is housewares, then hardware and camping. Beyond that is sporting goods. A large opening connects to another room where we hit the motherlode: food.
Two entire rows of canned goods and packaged goods, everything shelf-stable and much of it ready to eat. Cleaning supplies are in the back, and the few pallets of bleach are just what we need for water purification. Rose doesn’t trust the water is safe unless she’s boiled it herself, but the smell of bleach might be enough to convince her someone else is capable of keeping everyone alive, too.
We head back to the main door, where Barry says, “I’m going to see who we can call up on the radio. I know Deb can drive a truck. Anyone willing to learn? We could take these three semis, load them up with good stuff if they aren’t already.”
I lift a hand. “I’ll give it a go.”
“Me, too,” Ethan says. “Jess, you’ll ride with me.”
Barry walks to the edge of the dock, speaking into the radio. I hear the squawks of someone answering over the rain before Barry returns. “All right, they’re on their way. Let’s see what we’ve got before they get here.”
As we enter again, Barry flips the light switches. It’s habit, or wishful thinking, because he seems as surprised as the rest of us when the first section of the warehouse floods with light. “Guess the substation we’re running on at the fairgrounds powers out here, too. Or we’re powering another substation and didn’t realize.”
I tuck my flashlight in my pocket. We walk the rows, really seeing now, and it’s better than before. The others go with Barry to food and medicine, though Jesse and I branch off down the camping aisle.
“Look at all of this,” Jesse says.
There’s freeze-dried food, lanterns, sleeping bags, tents, and the many small but interesting things, like waterproof matches and compasses, that hang in the camping aisle at the store. I inspect one pallet and use my knife to cut the plastic over cartons of water purification tablets. I pull out a display-sized box containing multiple bottles, then tuck it under my arm. “For your mom.”
“She’ll love them,” Jesse says.
We continue on. At the end of the aisle, smaller shelving is lined with boxes of knives, and the wire mesh that protects the knives from thievery is unlocked. No guns, but I suppose those aren’t out all willy-nilly, if they’re in the warehouse at all.
“What’s the deal?” Jesse asks. “Can we take what we want?”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Cool.” Jesse bends to the lower shelves and chooses a few larger boxes. “I know KA-BAR’s a good brand.”
He pulls a black knife from one box. The nine-inch blade is sleek and lethal, with a black sheath to match. Jesse drops it in his bag. “Want one?”
“Absolutely.” I check the remaining shelves after I stick a few different knives in my pack. Bows, arrows, holsters, more sheaths. It’s a toy store for the z
ombie apocalypse. “Let’s tell them about this.”
Jesse zips his pack, and we wander to the food room. Barry approaches, holding a paper in his hand and smiling widely. “We’re set for a while.” He motions to the four levels of shelves, all full of pallets. “We figured it out—each pallet has about two thousand cans of beans. Soups and fruit, too. About a thousand cans of stew.”
Actual numbers make the sheer quantity of food staggering to behold. “Did anyone check the trucks out front?” I ask.
“Not yet. You want to do the honors?”
“Sure.”
“Where’ve you been?” Ethan asks.
“We found a ton of knives,” Jesse says. “Bows and arrows, too.”
“Yeah? Nice.” Ethan gestures behind him, where smaller shelves hold cardboard cartons. “Unfortunately, they only have over-the-counter meds. We need to find a pharmacy or the pharmaceutical distribution center where the pharmacies get their meds.”
“Today?” Barry asks.
“If not today, then soon. I have a list of what the elderly patients need. A long list. We’ve still got some of the other meds, but if anyone else gets sick…”
Barry strokes his chin. “Let’s see how this goes and then make a decision.”
Working power means charged forklifts, which Jared knows how to operate. Ethan, Jesse, and I leave for the loading dock to check out the trucks. Though it’s raining, the western sky is blue, and the storm will pass soon.
One truck is empty, another full of a mixture of items that must have been bound for a store, and the third half-full of food already. Ethan pulls Jesse to his side while I’m in the last truck. “Hey kiddo, I didn’t mean to rag on you before. You should be worried. I just don’t want you to be scared and freeze. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
Jesse mumbles something I can’t hear. As much as I would like not to, I have to admit Ethan’s apology is more than I did through most of my parenting career. I wait for silence and exit onto the loading dock. “Looks good in there. Let’s tell them what we’ve got.”
Before we can head in, two trucks pull through and close the gates behind them. They arrive, engines chugging, and Deb steps from the first truck’s driver’s side. She’s older, a no-nonsense lady in her sixties, and I’m not the least bit surprised she can drive a truck.
The Cascadia Series (Book 1): World Departed Page 58