Slow Burn Box Set: The Complete Post Apocalyptic Series (Books 1-9)

by Bobby Adair

  Murphy added, “If we're going to spend the time building a place to stay, I don't think that's the place to do it. There aren't any resources around. I mean, if the bunker was stocked and functional, then I'd say let’s stay there for six months or a year and wait for things to settle down. But as it is right now, no.”

  “Whether we like it or not, we need to find a way to feed ourselves,” I said. “That means that at some point, we need to learn how to farm. We have to grow our own food, raise some chickens, stuff like that.”

  “There's got to be plenty of food in houses and grocery stores,” said Mandi. “We should be able to scavenge that and eat for a long time. I don’t know how many people are out there doing the same thing right now but there’s got to be plenty for everybody. We might go for years. We might be able to eat canned food forever.”

  I said, “Yum.”

  “It's better than going hungry,” Mandi countered.

  “And better than all the vending machine crap we were eating,” said Murphy.

  “So, what are our choices, really?” I asked. “We need to be able to protect ourselves from the infected. We need places where we can scavenge. We need a water source. Are we going to rely only on scavenging, or are we going to grow our own chickens and carrots and stuff?”

  “What’s your thing with chickens?” Murphy asked.

  Mandi brushed by Murphy’s comment and said, “Assuming that we're not going to find a fully stocked doomsday bunker anywhere, it sounds like we’re deciding between a place in town or a place in the country.”

  Murphy laughed. “That's one way to put it, isn't it?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said. “We could probably wander out east and find any one of a thousand farms or ranches with no living owners. They probably all have wells, so water shouldn't be a problem. If we could find one with solar panels or wind turbines installed to generate electricity, then so much the better.”

  Mandi said, “That doesn't sound so bad, I guess.”

  I shifted around to lie on my side so I could look at them and said, “If we stay in town, something centrally located is probably best. That would give us access to the most stuff to scrounge. But in the short run, there'll be a lot more infected to deal with in town than in the country, just because that's where they are right now. In the long run, who knows? I'm guessing that the infected will end up near whatever place has available food. If they start eating each other, like Jerome said—”

  “Jerome the Liar,” Murphy corrected.

  “Yeah, him,” I continued. “Then who knows? Maybe they'll all stay in the cities.”

  Mandi said, “I want to go where they won’t be.”

  “Like I said, who knows where that’s gonna be?” I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling for bit after that, figuring to give sleeping a real try. Murphy seemed content to try. Russell started to snore.

  We all stayed quiet for a while when Mandi started in again. “I don’t see anything moving around out back anymore.”

  I sat up and got to my knees to peek out the front window.

  “Zed, lay down,” Mandi told me. “I don’t need your help keeping watch.”

  “I’m still wide awake,” I said.

  “Me, too,” said Murphy.

  I sat back down on the mattress and leaned back against the wall. “You know, we could go with something of a hybrid solution.”

  “What?” asked Murphy.

  “On the housing choice,” I said. “We could go down by Lake Austin and find one of those big estates right on the water. You know, one of those ones with three or four acres of lawn. That would be perfect for converting to growing vegetables or whatever. It'll have plenty of water, because it’s right on the river, and it’s still kind of close to town. As a matter of fact, we could probably use a boat to zip up and down the river in safety, and we could go scavenging wherever there aren't that many infected around. The downside is that there wouldn't be any farm tools or farm infrastructure.”

  Mandi asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know,” I said. “Grain silos. Hay barns. Plows. Chicken coops. I don't know anything about farms except what I read in picture books in elementary school. All I know is that there's got to be a ton of stuff I don't know.”

  Murphy sat up. “I've been thinking.”

  “About?” I asked.

  He put on a pensive look. “To steal a page from Mandi's etiquette manual, may I ask a question?”

  Mandi said, “Very funny, Murphy.”

  Murphy asked, “Who's going to win?”

  “What?” I asked.

  Murphy continued, “It's an easy question. Let's face it, the uninfected and the infected can't coexist. We don't get along, right?”

  I nodded tentatively, not sure where Murphy was going.

  Murphy said, “So at some point, one group is going to get killed off. Either all of the infected will get killed, or die of old age, or all of the uninfected will get killed or die of starvation or something.”

  “What makes you so sure about that?” Mandi asked.

  Murphy told us, “Because that's the way it always is. There's only one biggest, baddest motherfucker on the block. If there're two, there's gonna be a fight, and then there'll be one again. That's the way it is right now. There are two kinds of people now, and they both want to kill each other.”

  “I think there are three kinds,” I disagreed. “Don't forget us.”

  “Oh, yeah, us.” He nodded.

  “Thanks.” I straightened up. The topic was interesting. “Murphy, what you’re saying makes evolutionary sense. You don't generally have two animals in the same biological niche. When you do, they compete and one wins out. In the long run, there's only one left. One dies out or moves on to greener pastures.”

  Murphy shot Mandi a conspiratorial look then grinned. “Yeah professor, that's what I'm saying.”

  I ignored the jab.

  “So, it's us or them?” Mandi asked. “Either the infected will kill all of us or we'll kill all of them?”

  “Yep,” said Murphy. “That's it. I think we all agree on that.”

  “But there are so many of them,” said Mandi. “I don’t feel good about that.”

  Murphy laughed out loud. “Don’t feel bad. People win. People always win.”

  “Okay, Happy Murphy, why?” asked Mandi.

  I laughed. “Happy Murphy. I like that. Maybe Mandi is a keeper.”

  Murphy chuckled along with us. “Mandi, the easy answer is that eventually all of the infected will die of old age or something. I guarantee you that at least some normal people will survive. Hell, there's probably a hundred bunkers hidden in the mountains or out in west Texas with a hundred years’ worth of food and water, and I’ll bet they’re full of people just waiting until all of this blows over. Then they'll come out and have the whole planet to themselves.”

  “Unless the infected start reproducing,” I countered.

  Murphy paused. “I hadn't thought of that. Do you think they can?”

  “Unless the virus makes them sterile.” I wondered about that. “Which is possible given their body temperatures. I don't see why not. You don't have to be that bright to make babies. Every species figures it out, no matter how small their brains are.”

  “Maybe you're right,” Murphy conceded. “Maybe it won't be as easy as just waiting them out, but in the end the result will be the same. The only question is, when will intelligent humans be the dominant animal on the planet again?”

  Mandi asked, “Why are you so sure they will be?”

  “The same reason it's always been true,” said Murphy, triumphantly. “Because people are smarter.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I agree with that too. People evolved in places where all of the predators were stronger, bigger, and faster, and so were most of the prey animals. Our only advantage was that we were smart. Evolutionarily speaking, brains always trump brawn. Brains trump speed. Brains trump size. Brains trump everything, a
t least so far.”

  Mandi asked, “So far?”

  Murphy said, “Don't listen to him on that last part, Mandi. He thinks too much.”

  Sarcastically, I thanked Murphy.

  “I call ‘em as I see ‘em,” he told me.

  “Whatever. What's the point of all this, Murphy?” I asked.

  “Man,” he said, “my point is that one day, not tomorrow, probably not even next year, maybe not even five years from now, but one day, this will all be over. One day, the infected will either get wiped out by smarter, uninfected people or they'll just be some minor annoyance, like wolves or mountain lions were a few hundred years ago.”

  I said, “I'm not sure that getting eaten by a mountain lion is something I'd call a minor annoyance.”

  “Zed, don't be a dick. You know what I mean. When you were growing up in white boy suburbia, you never walked to school worrying about whether a mountain lion was going to eat you. There was a time when people did worry about that, but not now, because people are afraid of mountain lions, so they killed most of them off. It's gonna be the same with the infected. It'll take a while, but eventually, people will learn how to deal with them and they'll all get killed off.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Where is all of this going?”

  “Patience, grasshopper.” He grinned. He was getting excited. “I'm getting there.”

  “Grasshopper?” Mandi asked.

  I said, “Murphy spends too much time watching old TV shows.”

  “Let me ask another question,” Murphy said. “Since we all agree that one day, the infected will be a problem that gets solved, what will become of the human race?”

  Mandi said, “I don't understand what you're asking.”

  “What I mean,” Murphy asked, “is what will life be like once all the infected are gone? Let's say that you could get in a time machine and come back here a hundred years after the infected were all dead, or two hundred years, however long you think it will take things to get back to normal. My question is, what will normal look like?”

  That was an interesting question. I needed a moment to think about it. Murphy was a lot smarter than he generally seemed. I asked, “How will humanity react when it realizes that it has survived an extinction event?”

  Mandi ventured her guess. “Things will be just like they were before. Is that what you guys think? I mean they would, wouldn't they?”

  I said, “Unfortunately the cynic in me agrees with you.”

  “Why is that cynical?” Mandi asked. “That seems optimistic to me.”

  I said, “It's cynical because I don't think that this will be a spiritually maturative event for humanity. I think eventually things will go back to being just the way they were. There'll be disgustingly rich people and abjectly poor people. Mankind will still find reasons to go to war. There'll still be starvation. There'll still be distrust between nations and people who are different. If anything, this virus might exacerbate that.

  “The idealist in me wants to think that mankind will come out of this with a new perspective on how fragile a species we are, and how fragile an ecosystem we have. The idealist in me wants to think that we'll come out of this feeling like we've been given a second chance at building a civilization that doesn’t have all the evils of the old one, but it won't be that. We'll just rebuild the same thing we had before. That's how things have always happened in the past. After the Black Death, people just picked up the pieces and moved on, and things were just like they were before it happened.

  “The pessimist in me says that this descent into chaos is forever, or at least for our lifetimes. All we have to hope for is a future where we'll scavenge for our meals and try not to become meals ourselves. Maybe in the long run, things will go back to the way they were, which, one day, will seem better than this. But I wonder how many people now see this as better.”

  Mandi was shocked. “What?”

  Murphy said, “You are a pessimist, Zed.”

  I pressed on. “Before all this, how many people hated the reality of their meaningless, powerless, hopeless lives? That’s how most of us lived before. How many people want to face pointless materialism, debt, and anonymity? None of them. But that’s what we did. The world is a violent, terrible place now. But everything we do, from morning to midnight, is important. It’s all black and white now, live or die. There’s something real about that that our lives didn’t have before.”

  “That’s what you want?” Mandi asked, her anger rising. “Everybody I know is dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “and I know it sounds harsh, but that doesn’t make you special. That fact will be true for everybody you ever meet from this day forward?”

  She settled back in her seat and said softly, “Yes, I know. I just don’t like how it is now. I want to sleep in a bed. I want to close my eyes without shivering in fear. I want to eat in restaurants. I want to go to movies. I hate what the world has become.”

  “Mandi,” I said, “that’s where everyone will get eventually. People will hate watching their children starve. They’ll hate being afraid. They’ll romanticize the memory of how things used to be, and they’ll want to rebuild. We’ll stop being survivors and turn into teachers, and accountants, and mechanics. We may live in walled villages. We may never walk alone in the woods again. But things will go back to the way they were, one day.”

  Murphy said, “Jeez, Zed, when you get on a roll, you just can't shut up, can you?”

  “I’m sorry. I know. Isn’t that the point of this discussion, Murphy, that things will be just as they once were?”

  Murphy said, “Yes and no.”

  “Why no?” I asked.

  “Because it was just one point in my argument,” he said. “We haven't made it all the way to my conclusion yet.”

  “Can you just get to the point?” Mandi asked. “Because if I have to listen to another one of Zed's lectures, I think my head is going to explode.”

  Murphy laughed.

  “Whatever.” In the habit of our new social dynamic, that was my line. I smiled anyway.

  Murphy said, “I just wanted to make sure that we were all in agreement on the assumptions before I made my point.”

  I shook my head. “And you call me a professor.”

  “And your point is?” asked Mandi.

  Murphy said, “We can all go and just try and figure out how to stay alive if you want, but—”

  I cut in, “Staying alive is a pretty good option, I think.”

  “For once,” said Mandi, “I agree with Zed.”

  “There's more,” said Murphy.

  I said, “So far just staying a live is pretty much a full time job.”

  “My point is that things will settle down a bit,” said Murphy. “We can go live on a farm, grow potatoes, and Zed’s chickens, and wake up one day five or ten years from now, only to find out that the world is right back the way it was. Then we're right back where we were, trying to pay the rent, trying to earn enough to feed the kids, and wishing we had the Mercedes we'll never be able to afford. What I’m saying is that instead of just surviving, we can choose to thrive.”

  “Choose to thrive?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He grinned.

  “Because we’re slow burns?” I asked.

  “They're saying that the immunity rate on this virus is something like one in a thousand,” said Murphy. “But slow burns like us are rare, maybe one in ten thousand. Maybe one in a hundred thousand.”

  “And where'd you get that information?” I asked. “Somebody who got it off the internet told you, right?”

  “That’s immaterial,” Murphy told me. “You know it’s true. There aren't that many of us.”

  “Fine,” I admitted. “I'll give you that.”

  He pointed his finger at me. “My point is that you and I have a special talent. We can move around among the infected with a lot less danger than other people.”

  “True,” I allowed.

  “We can take advantage of th
at to position ourselves for the post-virus world.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “It's easy.” He said. “Instead of becoming farmers or scavengers, we become traders.”

  “Traders?” I asked.

  Mandi asked, “Traitors?”

  “No,” I told her. “With a D.”

  “Oh.”

  Murphy said, “People are eventually going to group together to survive. They're going to build walls to keep out the infected. People want safe places to raise their families. You know what will be between all of those little villages that spring up?”

  Mandi shook her head.

  I said, “If I say no, will you just tell me?”

  “Zed, Mandi, between those little villages will be badlands. The badlands will be full of the infected and full of valuable stuff. Zed, you and me, we can collect that stuff and trade it to the villagers for their valuables.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “They hate us. You said that, remember?”

  “But they don’t hate Mandi,” said Murphy. “She’s one of them.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “We can carry goods from one village to another,” he said. “We can build a whole trading empire transporting goods, rebuilding the economy, taking our little slice off the top, and getting rich in the process. We'll be like the John D. Rockefellers of tomorrow.”

  “To start with,” I argued, being contrary just for the sake of being contrary, “we'd be more like the Cornelius Vanderbilts, since he was a railroad tycoon. He transported goods.”

  Mandi said, “I think I just had a tiny explosion in my head.”

  “That's irrelevant,” said Murphy. And he was right. It was. “My point is that these rich dudes saw an opportunity, and they took advantage of it and got rich. We’re all three in a special position to take advantage of today’s opportunity.”

  I said, “I'll give you one thing, Murphy, you are the most optimistic person I’ve ever met. Everybody you ever met is getting eaten by the infected right now, and you see past all that, and better yet, see a way to get wealthy in the process. What about money? I think it’s pretty worthless right now. Doesn’t trade depend on currency?”

  “Details, man,” he told me. “We can get around that.”