by K. M. Fawkes
“I put some beers in the sink for you,” Neal went on, leaning against the door. “And there are a few snacks too, in case you’re still hungry.”
When Brad nodded thankfully, Neal smiled. “Okay, I know the place isn’t huge, but let me show you around, anyway.”
He led Brad down the hall and pushed open the door to the bathroom.
“There’s a basic medical kit in here,” he said, opening the cabinet under the sink and pointing to the red-and-white box. “All the apartments have them in exactly the same place, so you’ll know where to find them no matter whose house you happen to be in.”
He straightened up and closed the cabinet again. “I brought in a few buckets of water for you. One—in the kitchen—is for drinking and cooking. But I brought you some extra that you can heat up and use for a bath, if you want.”
Neal rubbed his chin and then said, “Oh, and I’ll drop some clean clothes off in a few minutes. You won’t want to sleep in your dirty ones, I’m sure. Is there anything else you might want while I’m out?”
Brad shook his head, amazed at his own good fortune. He had a roof over his head, beer in the sink, and now he was going to be able to get clean for the first time in just over a week? What more could he possibly want? They’d done everything, and apparently they’d done it simply out of the kindness of their hearts.
Of course, they could be planning to sacrifice him. He’d need to be clean for that, too. At least, presumably. He’d never sacrificed anyone.
He decided that he didn’t care, as long as he could take a bath. The smell of smoke that had filled the truck as they’d ridden through what had been Bangor still seemed to cling to his skin and hair. It brought back bad memories of the cabin burning, but it also reminded him that both of his homes had vanished in a cloud of ash. He really didn’t want to think about that any more than he had to.
“No,” he said when he realized that Neal was still waiting for him to answer. “I think what I have here will be plenty. Thank you.”
“Great,” Neal said. “I’ll be right back.”
While Neal was gone, Brad took the man’s advice and heated up some water over the fire. It took longer without his old faithful wood-burning stove, but he wasn’t about to complain. Eventually, he had two buckets full of boiling water, which he carried down the hall carefully.
As he bent to pour them into the tub, though, a glint of gold caught his eye. He leaned over and plucked it up. It was a small golden earring that had very nearly gone down the drain. It was very heavy to be so small and Brad could tell that it was pure twenty-four carat. A dignified piece of jewelry for sure, for a woman who was wealthy but didn’t want to show off. Brad carefully laid it in the medicine cabinet. He wasn’t exactly sure what the lost-and-found policy was here, and this way, he could ask if it belonged to anyone tomorrow.
He closed the drain and dumped the buckets of water into the tub. He was just bending to unlace his boots when there was a knock at the door.
“It’s me,” Neal called. “I’ve got some more things for you.”
Brad opened the door and Neal handed him a backpack. “There’s some clothes in there,” Neal said. “They’re mostly fatigues, but there’s some civilian stuff as well. I think they should all fit.”
Brad opened the pack slightly and saw that it was filled to bursting with clean clothes. “Thanks,” he said.
“No problem. Oh,” Neal bent down and picked up a bucket from where he’d set them down, just to the right of Brad’s door. “Some more hot water. A bath is a real luxury around here, but I figured you might want a little more.”
“Thank you,” Brad said again. “I—”
Maybe Neal was just in a hurry, but Brad thought that the other man had probably heard how rough his voice had gone at the unexpected kindness.
“No problem,” Neal repeated. “Feel free to sleep in tomorrow, then come find me and we’ll get you started. See you later!” With a wave of his hand, the other man walked away—not to the apartment next to Brad’s, but back to HQ.
Brad closed the door and locked it, pleased to have that measure of security again. Then, he slung the backpack over his shoulder, picked up the bucket of water, and headed into the bathroom again. He stopped by the kitchen quickly and pulled one of the beers from the sink. He’d never had the particular brand before, but he didn’t care. He wanted the normalcy of a beer and a bath, regardless of the circumstance.
After pouring the extra water into the tub he began pulling off layers of clothing. His jacket, his sweater, his flannel and his T-shirt went into a pile. Then, his waterproof, snowboarding-style pants and his thermal underwear layer. As he pulled that off, he winced. The fabric had stuck to the cut on his ankle and he’d reopened it when he’d pulled.
Resting his food on the edge of the tub, Brad looked at the cut. It was bigger than he’d originally thought, but he didn’t think it would need stitches. He’d just make sure to clean it as thoroughly as he could and make good use of that first aid kit.
He stepped into the tub, catching his breath at the heat of the water and the burning pain of the cut getting wet. He gritted his teeth as he cleaned the cut. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t have a choice. The last thing he needed was an infection—he’d want more than whiskey if he was going to get an amputation. Speaking of which…he reached over and grabbed the beer he’d brought into the bathroom with him, twisting the top off and chugging half of it down in one go.
It tasted just like all other beer he’d ever tasted; he’d never been an aficionado. That didn’t matter, though, because the taste wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted the effects. He wanted to sleep without dreams. He wanted to forget the pain in his ankle, in his muscles, in his chest.
His head was swimming pleasantly by the time the two beers he’d brought in with him were gone and the bath was cooling off. Brad might have felt like a lightweight if he hadn’t remembered how little he’d had to eat over the past week. He rinsed off one final time and stood up, stretching and sighing before he dried off. He felt like he hadn’t appreciated baths enough in his pre-apocalypse life. They might be the best thing left in the world.
Once he’d dried off, he dug into the backpack until he found some soft clothes—a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He pulled them on and then sat down on the closed toilet seat to re-bandage his ankle before he got blood on his new clothes.
As he leaned down to get the first aid kit that Neal had shown him, he noticed one of the side panels of the fancy tub-surround was loose. It was supposed to look like marble and, except for that imperfection, it did. He pushed the panel back, but it didn’t stay. Oh, well. He could fix it another day. Right now, there were more important things. Like sleep.
He slathered antibiotic ointment on his cut and gritted his teeth at the stinging. Then, he closed the cut with butterfly bandages and wrapped it all with clean gauze. That was as good as it was going to get, and he felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t have any more problems with it, so he stood up.
The room tilted—this time from the fact that he was slightly drunk, rather than the fact that he was panicked and freezing. He gripped the sink to get his bearings back and then bent down, letting the filthy water run down the drain. He’d need to rinse the tub tomorrow, but if he tried to do it now, he’d probably fall in headfirst.
He pulled on a pair of thick wool socks and headed down the hall. He opened the only other door in the place and was pleased to find the bedroom right where he’d expected it to be. He was just drunk enough to feel that he deserved some congratulations for that.
It was pretty nice. The carpet was pale beige, but it wasn’t dirty yet. The sheets and comforter on the big bed were a pretty shade of lavender. He couldn’t help but connect that with the understated-yet-expensive jewelry he’d found in the bathroom. What happened to the lady who’d decorated this apartment and herself with such care?
Brad shook the thought out of his head. The same thing th
at had happened to ninety percent of the population, probably. What else could have killed her? The soldiers wouldn’t be likely to mess with trying to conscript an old folks’ home, for God’s sake.
He forced himself to stop thinking about the previous owner’s fate and dropped down onto the bed. Then, he pulled the covers up over his shoulders, snuggled down into the soft pillow, and was asleep in seconds.
Chapter 7
Brad rolled over and stretched out, feeling the soft mattress conform to his body. He must have put in a hard day, yesterday, he thought sleepily. Maybe after breakfast he and the kids could…
The thought process trailed off when he opened his eyes and saw that he wasn’t back at his cabin. This was just some random apartment. And he had no idea where the kids were.
Brad sat up slowly, wincing at how much he ached. His head hurt and he was ashamed to realize that he was mildly hungover. That wasn’t the worst pain, though. Every single muscle in his body burned like fire at the simplest movements. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and then paused to let the pain recede before his feet touched the floor.
“You’re getting old,” he muttered when his back protested. “Two years ago, you ran a marathon.”
Yeah, but not through the snow. And not for eighteen hours a day for a week.
“You’ve got me there,” he said to himself. “And now, I’m not only talking to myself, I’m agreeing with myself. Not a great sign, mental-health-wise.” He shook his head. Neither is prolonging the conversation, dude.
Brad got up and went to the closet before he did anything else crazy. He’d slept in sweats and he’d been very warm, but he wanted a little more protection than that before he ventured out to explore the place he’d ended up in. He pulled on a sweater and then tugged a pair of fatigue pants over what he was already wearing. Then, he added a camouflage jacket and another pair of socks.
There wasn’t any additional footwear and he eyed his boots with profound dislike. The miles and miles of walking hadn’t done them any good, but at least they were dry now. Not that they would stay that way for long.
Maybe he could find a way to seal them up again, he thought, once he had a moment to rest. For now, he’d try to keep to the covered sidewalks. The sun had been up for a few hours already, so if Neal’s information was true, they should have been swept by now.
He yanked the boots on and laced them up tightly. Then, he added a scarf, hat and gloves before grabbing his key and opening his front door. It was time to take a good look at this place and see if he’d ended up smack-dab in the middle of another cult or not.
Brad leaned against the doorframe, blinking at the scene in front of him. It was like walking out into a television show from the good old days. There were a few kids building a snow fort in the courtyard outside his door.
Voices floated down the sidewalk and he turned his head to see that a few women stood outside watching the kids play. They were bundled to their ears just as Brad was, but they were chatting over steaming mugs of something while they kept an eye on the youngsters. They glanced his way and smiled before going back to their conversation.
One of the kids yelled suddenly and one of the women called, “Liam! Play nicely or you’ll spend the day inside!”
Liam, who had probably known that the particular section of snow fort he’d lured the younger kid into would fall down, put his hand out, tugging the younger one up and dusting him off. The women went back to their conversation and the kids went back to their construction. Brad wondered where the men were and then realized that he could hear the dull thunk of axes against block as someone chopped wood around the corner. Everyone was doing their part, it seemed.
It was all so damn normal that he felt off-balance and out of place. All of his previous introverted nature rose up once more. He could just go back inside and read, he realized. Neal had told him that he could sleep in. Why hadn’t he done that?
“It’s a little weird, isn’t it?” a woman asked from his right.
Brad turned to her in surprise. He hadn’t heard her approach. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s just that everything was so awful for so long,” the woman said, raising her cup to her lips and taking a long drink. “It’s strange to walk out of the wilderness and into this.”
“Yeah,” Brad agreed. “It really is.”
He couldn’t help but eye the cup, wondering if she had any coffee that he could bargain for. She smiled ruefully, seeming to read his thoughts.
“It’s nothing fancy,” she explained. “Just hot water.”
“Oh,” he said, trying and failing not to sound disappointed.
She smiled. “The hard part might be over, but there are a few things that might never come back. Coffee is unfortunately one of them.”
“Right,” Brad said absently as he turned the phrase over in his mind. The hard part was over? As he looked around the facility, he could see why she would think so. It was pretty damn idyllic here. Or course, that didn’t mean that he was convinced that things were on the upswing for good, but he’d take the reprieve.
“I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brad,” he said, holding out his gloved hand.
She put her mittened one into it and gave him a smile. “Charlotte,” she said. “Most people call me Charlie, though.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. Then, her name clicked in his still-fuzzy brain as he remembered the Major’s instructions to Neal the night before. “Charlotte…you’re my next-door neighbor, then?”
She nodded, inclining her head toward the unit next to his. That would explain why he hadn’t heard her approach.
“Just a few feet away if you ever need anything. My husband Jack is here, too,” she went on. “He’d be out here, but he had to go over everything with the truck last night and he was up late. The Major said he could take today off, and since he gave Jack the day off, he let me have it, too.” She smiled, clearly excited by the fact. “It’s so rare to get a day completely free. Not that the Major is a bad guy or a dictator or anything,” she hurried on. “There’s just so much to do, and not very many of us.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Brad said, wanting to put her at ease.
Charlie nodded quickly and eagerly. “He really is. He took us right in and we don’t know what we would have done in this winter if we were out there.” She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know how you survived it. But I guess that doesn’t matter now. You’ll love it here. I’d better get back inside,” she went on. “I can’t let Jack sleep his free day away. I just wanted to say hello.”
Brad smiled at the rapid-fire delivery of information. “I’m glad you did. Would you happen to have any advice on what I should do next?”
“Take some time to do some wandering before you go find Neal for your orders,” she said. “As long as you stay in the fence, you’re safe.”
Fence or no fence, Brad didn’t believe for one second that he was safe. Not completely, anyway. But he wasn’t going to take it away from her.
“I’ll do that,” he promised, giving her a wave that she returned cheerfully before he set off down the sidewalk.
He strolled along at an easy pace, trying to keep count of the people he saw. Everyone kept saying that there weren’t a lot of people here, but Brad had to disagree. There must have been nearly fifty, with soldiers and civilians combined. Which meant that they outnumbered the Family.
Brad’s walk slowed even more as he allowed himself to contemplate returning the pain they’d given him. An eye for an eye and a cabin for a cabin. Of course, part of the population of both groups were children. And as much as he wanted revenge, he really didn’t want to kill any children to get it.
Of course, with the proper show of power, maybe things wouldn’t have to end in death. At least, not for everyone. He was surprised at how quickly he dismissed the notion of letting Auntie and Uncle live. He didn’t have long to dwell on his suddenly less-humane impulses, though, because Major Walker’s vo
ice rang out.
“Good morning, Brad.”
“Morning,” Brad said, jogging over to where the man stood. “Neal said I could sleep in before I found him,” he explained. “But I thought I’d go for a walk instead.”
“Not a bad habit,” Walker said with a smile. “You found me in the middle of mine. I take one every morning. No matter how cold it is. It’s always a good idea to check the fences, look for tracks or break-ins.”
“Have you had any?” Brad asked, falling into step beside the man.
“Not yet,” Walker said. “But you never know what a desperate person will do. And I like knowing exactly who is in my facility at all times.”
It made perfect sense. The Major smiled when he said it. Brad still had to repress a shiver. He must be getting paranoid about authority figures.
“Yeah, that seems important,” he said lamely. “I—” he broke off when he heard a distinctive sound. “Do you have cows?” he asked in shock.
Major Walker nodded. “We certainly do. That’s part of the reason I was so pleased to hear that you have veterinary experience. I’d like for you to look them over today, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Brad agreed. “I’m happy to do it.” He wasn’t really a farm vet, but he had taken the necessary courses and he assumed he could figure things out as he went.
“After you get done there, I’d like you to join the hunting party that’s going out,” Walker went on. “We can always use more meat.” The Major gestured to a man who was checking part of the fence in the distance and the man came jogging over. “This is Ben. He’ll show you around the farm section and direct you to the hunting party later on.”
Brad realized he was being dismissed. “Sounds great,” he said.
Major Walker left them to it, continuing to stroll along the fence.
“He really walks that whole fence every day?” Brad asked.
“Not the whole thing,” Ben answered. “But he inspects sections of it every day. We all try to help, but there just aren’t that many of us.”