by Wood, J N
‘You could make them some new signs,’ Shannon suggested. ‘Replace the ones leading to Blaine.’
‘That’s true,’ I said.
‘What did you do Jack?’ Sandra asked.
‘Tax law,’ he quickly responded. ‘Very boring. Honestly, too boring to talk about.’
Sandra actually perked up a bit. ‘I was in law school before the kids came along. I was always planning to go back and finish at some point. Where did you work?’
Jack sipped on his glass of water. ‘Google.’
Sandra’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow, Google. That must have been exciting?’
‘Nope. It doesn’t matter where you work when it comes to tax. I’m sure it was exciting for the creative people, but tax is tax.’
Michael laughed. ‘You enjoyed it then?’
Jack shrugged. ‘The money was very good, and I got to travel a bit. It obviously allowed me to move to America…for a while.’
Sandra turned her attention to Michael and Shannon. ‘How about you two?’
A grin spread across my face, waiting to see everyone’s reaction to Shannon explaining what she did for a living.
‘High school math teacher,’ Michael said, pointing at himself. He beamed at Shannon. ‘And my wife is a much respected doctor of–.’
Shannon placed a hand on her husbands arm, interrupting him. ‘When we get into the camp, maybe not mention I’m a doctor. People always immediately think medical and expect things from me, especially at the moment.’
Michael smiled back at his wife. ‘Okay darling.’
Shannon looked to Sandra. ‘I mostly did research, taught a little as well.’
‘It’s a lot more complicated than that,’ I added.
‘Gee, what job do you think they’ll give you?’ Jack asked him.
‘Do not know,’ he shrugged. ‘I was janitor in building we live in here. Before, in Lithuania, I was in army.’
‘Really?’ I asked, but then thought about it for a couple of seconds. ‘Actually that doesn’t surprise me at all. How long were you in the army?’
‘Twelve years. I go in when eighteen. It was how you say? Erm…when have to go in?’
‘National service?’ Jack offered.
Gee furrowed his brow. ‘No, that is not it. When, at eighteen the government make you join army, just for one year, but I stay for twelve.’
‘Yeah I think that is called national service,’ I said.
Gee thought about it for a few moments, before saying, ‘No, do not think so.’
‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘What did you do in the army?’
‘At the end I train new soldiers. I build my own house from being in army.’
‘They taught you how to build a house?’ Jack asked.
‘No, army was shit. I steal all building supplies from army stores, and build house for my wife and…’ He trailed off and lifted his drink to his mouth.
Again, I noticed Michael and Shannon exchange glances.
Maybe they know what happened to Gee’s wife?
‘Theo was going to graduate from high school this year,’ Sandra said. ‘How about you Pete? What do you do?’
Pete shot his cousin an annoyed glare. ‘I’m taking some time out thank you Sandra. Just trying to work out my options. I guess most of those options have been taken away from me now.’
‘What about you Ali?’ I asked. ‘Bounty hunter? Cop? Ninja?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, I’m a ninja. Been doing that professionally for the last five years.’ She performed a pretend karate chop on Max. He gave her a very adult looking, polite smile, and continued eating his food. ‘I decided if people qualified for loans. More boring stuff, and completely uncalled for in the zombie apocalypse.’
‘I’m sure people will still want loans,’ Shannon said.
‘I don’t want to go back to it,’ Ali sighed. ‘Time for my new life I think.’
After we’d eaten, we loaded the trolley back up with our dirty dishes and left it by the locked door. It wasn’t long before Sandra and Pete put the kids to bed. After being very politely shushed by Sandra for the third time, we decided to get an early night. The temperature outside had dropped, so nobody wanted to sit outside and talk anyway.
I was genuinely excited as I lay on my bottom bunk, staring up at the underside of a mattress. Combining the excitement with the fact I hadn’t been sleeping at night for a while, meant I was awake in the darkness for hours.
When I woke up it would be time to go into the camp. One step closer to Canada, and then…
What am I thinking? How the fuck am I gonna get back to Joanne?
For a long time, that one thought seemed to constantly go around and around in my head.
She must think I’m dead. Nope, can’t worry about that now. One step at a time, one step at an annoyingly slow fucking time.
DAY EIGHTEEN
Chapter 9: Gayter
An alarm was going off. In my sleep induced confusion, I leaned out of bed and fumbled around, first looking for my phone on my bedside cabinet, and then searching the floor. The alarm suddenly stopped.
Pete saying, ‘Sorry,’ brought me back to my senses, reminding me where I was.
I tried to open my eyes, just about managing to get my left one open. My right eye was not cooperating. People around me were beginning to stir.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, trying to aim it in the direction I thought Pete had been sleeping.
‘Five thirty,’ he whispered.
I must have only been asleep for a couple of hours.
Half an hour until we’re in the camp. Might as well get up then.
I hope Beth is in there.
We shared out, and ate what were left of the pastries. We took turns using the toilets, and then crowded around the locked gate we’d seen Elliot and Martin use the day before. We had nothing to gather up apart from a few weapons, so it didn’t take us long to get ready.
‘What time is it Pete?’ Jack asked.
Pete moaned and looked at his watch. ‘It’s three minutes after the last time you asked me, so it’s seven minutes to six.’
‘Where’s your watch?’ I asked Jack.
He rolled up his sleeve, showing me his watch.
‘Why are you asking me all the time?’ Pete asked him.
‘Just making sure my watch is correct.’
One of the doors to the container swung open, and out staggered the sheriff, tripping over the lip of the doorway and stumbling forwards a few paces.
I leaned in towards Jack. ‘He looks shitfaced.’
‘Morning campers,’ the sheriff said, unhooking a bunch of keys from his belt.
Jack and I exchanged bemused glances.
‘Was that from Hi-de-Hi?’ Jack asked.
I shrugged. ‘Was it on TV over here?’ I asked him.
Jack shrugged, saying, ‘Don’t know.’
Sheriff McCallany reached the gate, and after the fourth attempt, managed to unlock it. ‘Make your way over to my office. Once inside, don’t just crowd around the doorway. Keep moving forward.’
Jack and I were at the back, so we waited until everyone had filtered through the opening before following them.
‘Ah, it’s Shouty McShouterson,’ the sheriff said as Jack passed him. ‘You’ll be glad your brief stay in the Overlook Hotel is over.’
‘Yep, just anxious to look at the list,’ Jack replied.
‘Well, I just need to get all your details first, and then you can see it. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.’
The sheriff locked the gate as we walked to his office.
‘So he’s a Hi-de-Hi, and a Stephen King fan,’ I quietly said.
‘And a whiskey fan by the smell of him,’ Jack replied.
At the far end of the container was an ornate desk, inset with green leather. It did not suit its surroundings. Behind it was a large, well used leather office chair. Behind them were bookshelves, stacked with pads of paper, presumably containing the names of the incoming refu
gees. An eighties style boombox sat on the floor in front of the shelves. As I’d walked in I noticed an old looking sofa, tucked into the corner by the big double doors. It looked like the sheriff had spent many a night sleeping on it.
‘Coming through, make space,’ the sheriff said as he manoeuvred his way through us. ‘Oh yeah, forgot to ask, are any of you zombies?’
He was answered with blank stares.
‘Zombies don’t speak,’ he said. ‘So it’s probably best you answer me with actual words.’
One by one, we all said no. I looked down and smiled after seeing the three kids vigorously shaking their heads.
‘That’s good then.’ He opened up a pad of paper and placed it on his desk. ‘Oh hey,’ he exclaimed, looking up at us and smiling. ‘A new pad. Just need to write the date on.’ He closed it and started writing on the front. ‘Okay then.’ The sheriff looked up at us, scanning our faces. ‘You,’ he said, pointing at Theo. ‘Come here,’ he requested, leaning down to open a draw and pulling out what looked like an iPad. ‘My hands weren’t built for modern technology, so I need you to input everything I write down onto this.’ He held it out towards Theo.
Theo’s eyes darted between Sandra and Pete for a few seconds, before shrugging his shoulders and walking around to stand by the sheriff. He took the iPad. ‘Where do I? Oh right.’ Theo showed the screen to the sheriff. ‘This one?’ he asked.
‘Yep, that’s the one. They tell me it’s real easy but I always struggle.’
‘Have you got electricity here?’ Shannon asked, staring at the iPad.
‘Oh no, the Canadians charge it up when I give it back to them.’
The sheriff finished writing on the front of the pad, and then opened it up again. ‘Okay, iPad Boy, you first. Name and age?’
Theo continued staring down for a couple of seconds, before realising it was him that was being questioned. ‘Theodore Rodriguez. I’m seventeen.’
‘Mexican American?’ the sheriff asked.
‘He’s American,’ Sandra stated.
‘Don’t worry,’ the sheriff said. ‘Nothing sinister going on here. They just want to know for…I don’t know, to see if anything adds up, you know? To explain why whoever survived, survived.’ He threw his hands up into the air. ‘I’m not a scientist.’
‘Our family is originally from Mexico, yes,’ Theo said, glancing at his surviving family members.
‘Okay let’s stick with the…’ He paused to read his own writing. ‘The Rodriguez’s.’ He pointed at Sandra. ‘You can go next.’
‘Sandra Walker, thirty one. These three are mine. Seth is six, Jonah is four, and Max is four.’ Sandra closed her eyes when she realised her mistake. ‘I mean three, Max is three.’
The sheriff looked up. ‘It’s okay. I don’t care.’ He leaned forward slightly and whispered, ‘Father?’
Sandra gave her head a brief shake. ‘I would also like to look through your list when we’re done please.’
The sheriff sat back and smiled kindly. ‘Of course you can. Next, how about you,’ he said, pointing at Pete.
‘Peter Rodriguez, I’m twenty two.’
‘Next,’ the sheriff said.
‘Alison Rodriguez, twenty eight.’
‘Right, I’m guessing you two aren’t Rodriguez’s?’ the sheriff asked, looking at Michael and Shannon.
‘You are correct. I’m Michael Presley, thirty one, African American.’
‘Shannon Presley, thirty two, also African American.’
Jack elbowed me in the ribs. ‘Told you,’ he whispered.
‘Hey, like the actor?’ the sheriff exclaimed.
Michael and Shannon glanced at each other, shaking their heads.
‘Michael Shannon, the actor,’ the sheriff repeated.
‘Don’t waste your breath Sheriff,’ I said. ‘They don’t even know who Tom Hanks is. I doubt they’ll have heard of Michael Shannon.’
‘Surely somebody has said this to you before though?’ the sheriff asked.
‘No, sorry,’ Shannon replied.
‘Okay, don’t worry about it. How about you big guy?’
‘Gintaras Adomaitis, I am thirty nine years old, Lithuanian, but resident of United States of America for ten year.’
Thank fuck for that, I thought he was gonna say thirty five for a second.
‘Okay, now onto the Brits, you first,’ the sheriff said, pointing at me.
‘Christopher Taylor, thirty six, and yeah, British.’
‘Living here or on vacation?’ he asked.
‘Vacation.’
‘How’s that going?’
‘Pretty shit.’
The sheriff let out a little chuckle before glancing up at Jack. ‘Shouty?’ he said.
‘Jack Tillman, thirty four, British but I live here, I’ve got an L-1 visa.’
Shaking my head and laughing, I looked to Jack. ‘What the fuck?’ I asked him.
‘What? I do have a visa.’
Theo placed the iPad down on the desk, saying, ‘I’m done.’
‘Thank you very much,’ the sheriff said. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of already stamping out your numbers. I’m assuming you’re all friends and aren’t going to fight over these.’ He opened a draw and pulled out small strips of paper, laying them out on the desk. ‘I think there are twelve there.’
When everyone moved to the desk, I stayed back to let them all decide amongst themselves. This meant I got the last number.
I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand. Stamped onto a thin strip was the number, 4 1 7 8 9.
‘There’s forty one thousand, seven hundred and eighty nine people in the camp?’ I asked.
‘Not anymore,’ the sheriff said. ‘Some have gone across into Canada, and people die. The population of Blaine was about five thousand. Half of Blaine’s houses are on the other side of the fence, so it’s a tight squeeze.’
I shook my head in amazement. ‘And they let five hundred people in a week?’
‘Yep.’
I couldn’t figure out the maths. ‘Jack?’
‘About eighty weeks, so…about eighteen months,’ Jack said solemnly.
I felt a bit light headed and had to lean against a wall. ‘Fucking hell,’ I slowly whispered. It felt like my stomach weighed a tonne, and was trying to pull me to the floor.
‘Hey, look on the bright side,’ the sheriff beamed. ‘Nobody is going to kill you for your number.’
‘Do people get killed for their number?’ Shannon asked.
The sheriff seemed to think about it for a few seconds, before saying, ‘Yeah, no point in sugar coating it for you. It happens. But you’re safe.’
‘Sheriff?’ Jack asked, nodding towards the bookshelves.
‘Yes, just one more thing, job assignments. You,’ he said, pointing towards Sandra and looking down at his pad of paper. ‘That’s it. Sandra. You are a single parent, so no work for you.’ He opened another draw in his desk, this time pulling out a playing card. He reached out towards Sandra. ‘Don’t lose this please, if you do, it means you have to come back and see me. Never hand this to anyone, just show it to them when you’re in the food tent.’
Sandra hesitantly took the ace of spades from him. ‘Okay, thank you.’ She held the card up. ‘Will people try and kill me for this?’
‘No. Don’t worry about that.’
Sandra didn’t look convinced. We all shared a few anxious glances.
‘Everyone else,’ he continued. ‘I expect you’ll be with either the Fencers or the Zombie Patrol. There seems to be more and more of the dead getting in every day.’ He pulled out a map of Blaine and placed it on the desk. ‘Okay, everyone crowd in.’
We all moved forward to stand around his desk. He pointed out where the south and east inner fences were situated, then moved his finger over to where we would be assigned accommodation, and finally where we needed to go to speak to Frank or Amber, our new bosses.
‘Go to the Blaine Senior Centre first to sort out where you’ll be
sleeping,’ the sheriff instructed. ‘Make sure you sort out these two somewhere as well,’ he said, pointing at Jack and Sandra.
‘And me,’ I said. ‘I’ll help Jack look through the list. There’s no point in you staying here Sandra. We’ll look for Dale and Sophia’s names. You take care of the kids. It’s Walker, right?’
Sandra looked torn. ‘And you’ll look through every single one of these?’ she asked, pointing at the bookshelves.
‘Yes, of course,’ I replied.
She looked down at the kids, and then back at me. ‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘Yes okay. Dale Walker, thirty three, and Sophia Walker, she’s eight. I have no idea if Dale would have mentioned anything about her having a Mexican family.’ She shot a glance at the sheriff, but he seemed more concerned with the contents of one of the desk drawers.
‘If their names are here, we’ll find them,’ I assured her.
As they started to leave the container, a thought jumped into my head. ‘How do we find you when we’re done here?’
‘After you’ve got your accommodation sorted,’ the sheriff said. ‘Just leave the Brits names with the guys at the Senior Centre.’ He turned to look at me. ‘Then when you’ve finished here, just go there, and they’ll tell you where you’re sleeping.’ He gave us a toothy grin. ‘Problem solved.’
‘Okay, see you soon yeah,’ Ali said.
Sheriff McCallany stopped as he was leaving, turning back to face us. ‘I need to let them into the camp. I’ll only be five minutes. Please wait until I get back before you start. I don’t want you messing my system up.’ He spun around and exited the container.
Jack and I stood in the open doorway, and watched them walk towards the inner fence.
‘Eighteen months? A year and a fucking half?’ I said. ‘I can’t stay here for that long. Nobody could live here for eighteen months. Eighteen fucking months.’
‘We won’t be here for that long,’ Jack said.
‘Why?’
‘Because things always change. Don’t worry about it yet. Let’s find Beth first.’
I started to pace up and down in the container. ‘Fuck’s sake. Eighteen fucking shitty fucking months. No fucking chance. I need to get back home.’
‘Find Beth. Find a way to cross into Canada,’ Jack said.