Aftermath (42 page)

After much discomfort and answering questions like “Does it hurt when I do this?” and “Can you move your fingers like this?” they explained to him that, from what they could tell, he had torn the ligaments in his wrist and elbow and had been lucky that his shoulder had not been pulled out of socket. They further concluded that his tailbone was indeed broken, his right collar-bone fractured or badly bruised, that three of his ribs on the right side were either broken or badly bruised (without an X-Ray machine it was difficult to tell for sure), and that he had a pretty severe high ankle sprain on his left leg. For good measure, several of the stitches that Doc had put in his back had ripped out, and needed to be replaced, and he had managed to get it infected.

As they worked, his friends silently trickled out of the room. Eventually it was just Julia and Jenny fussing over him, and then it was just Jenny, testing his temperature and asking him if he needed anything. When he said that he was fine, she only smiled, knowing that he was far from fine but too proud to admit it.

CHAPTER 25: THE ROAD AHEAD

Harper appeared after a short time. His eyes were dry now, but the redness at the rims and the rawness around his nose gave him away. He carried a long, straight branch of some hardwood. He had affixed a crossbeam at the top, so it made a tall T shape. The crossbeam was wrapped in cloth to pad it.

“
Made a crutch for you.” Harper handed it to Lee.

Lee felt humbled by the gesture. “Thank you, Harper.”

Harper stuffed his hands in the pocket of his pants. “It’ll hurt like hell with your cracked ribs, but knowing you, you won’t be wanting to sit in bed for long.”

Lee smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He took the crutch with his right hand, because they’d wrapped his left up with enough ACE bandage to keep it from moving too much, and pulled himself to his feet. It seemed that the less he used his left foot, the more tender the ankle became, but he also knew he needed to rest it. He got the padded crossbeam under his left arm and held it in there tight. Lee tested it out, keeping pressure off of his left foot as much as possible and walked around the medical trailer with it. Jenny kept a watchful eye on him, but didn’t object. Harper had been right on both counts: it hurt like the dickens on his ribs, and Lee definitely wasn’t in the mood to sit in bed until he healed up. Survival was a 24-hour job, no days off and no vacations.

“
It’s good.” Lee nodded.

“
One other thing I thought you should see.” Harper pointed out towards the Ryder factory, just to their left. Lee moved forward with his crutch to the edge of the medical trailer so that he could see what Harper pointed at. The two-story building stood in dark relief against the sky. Hanging from the tall awning over the entrance to the factory was Old Glory, flapping gently in the breeze. Beneath her colors, a few people walked in and out of the building, occasionally looking up with wistful smiles.

“
It’s the one you took from the car lot,” Harper said. “Just a little reminder for everyone.”

They looked at the banner for a long time before Lee finally broke the silence. He would never admit it, but he needed that moment to swallow the lump in his throat and steady his voice. “Thanks again.”

Before Harper could respond, Bus appeared with a familiar face beside him.

Lee’s face contorted as though he’d just tasted bad food.

Jerry, wasn’t it? Yes. Jerry the politician.

The very same Jerry who insisted that Lee prove to them that he wasn’t with Milo; who turned a large part of the crowd against him; who convinced them to send Lee out with half as many men accompanying him as he originally planned. Lee felt his chest swell with bitterness. If Jerry had kept his goddamn mouth shut, would things have been different? Would Miller and Josh be alive now?

The look on Bus’s face was that he clearly knew this was not the time for Jerry to come speak with Lee, but Jerry had likely insisted. Lee also got the impression from Bus’s uncomfortable body language that he knew what Jerry wanted to talk to them about, and knew that Lee and Harper were not going to like it.

Jerry opened his mouth, but Lee cut him off. “What the fuck do you want?”

He couldn’t contain his hostility. Frankly, Jerry should be glad Lee didn’t beat him to death with his crutch.

Jerry held up his hands, but he still had that stupid smile on his face. That placating, politician’s smile. The smile of a man who thinks no one can see through him. “Captain, I stand corrected. Clearly, from all accounts, it sounds like Doc was the person responsible for the breach in the fence. I was wrong to accuse you of being with Milo.”

The apology did nothing for Lee. It didn’t take his injuries away, and it didn’t bring back Miller and Josh. Just to watch him squirm, Lee said, “I bashed Milo’s skull in with my bare hands, Jerry. So yes, you were wrong to accuse me.”

Jerry gave a sidelong glance at Bus, as though looking for some help, but Bus had crossed his arms and regarded the other man with a look that said,
I told you not to come down here.

“
Yes, well...” Jerry trailed off, then seemed to find his train of thought again. He seemed to come to the conclusion that Bus had been right, and this was the wrong time to confront Lee over whatever he felt was so goddamn important. Maybe he would have walked away and left it where it was, but Lee wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

“
Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Lee asked.

“
Well,” Jerry appeared extremely uncomfortable now, shifting his weight back and forth and touching his ears nervously. “I had just wanted to extend my apologies to you...and...”

Bus came in this time. “I believe you had a question about why Captain Harden invited a busload of survivors to join Camp Ryder without first getting clearance from us.” Bus said it in such a way as though he were simply trying to help Jerry remember. “By the way, Captain Harden, I agree with your decision.”

Jerry looked at Bus with venom in his eyes, but didn’t respond directly to him. He realized that a small gathering had followed them over to the medical trailer and was eavesdropping on the conversation. With an audience to watch him, his demeanor changed and he drew himself up, like his dingy shirt and pants were a three-piece suit.

“
Yes.” Jerry cleared his throat and spoke louder, like he was on a stage. “I was going to ask you about that. I understand that you did an excellent job getting supplies for Camp Ryder, however...” He glanced around, making sure all eyes were on him. “Let me be frank with you, Captain. Those supplies aren’t enough to go around, and I feel that we should have the final say in how to split up those supplies, because they’re ours...”

Lee’s blood boiled. “They’re yours?”

“
Yes, they’re ours. We paid for them with our blood!”

Is he serious?
Lee thought.
Is he really saying this?

“
We sent you out with four of our men and you only return with one!”

I’m going to kick the shit out of him if he doesn’t shut up...

“
I think I speak for everyone when...”

Harper saved Lee the trouble and punched Jerry square in the jaw with a vicious right hook. Jerry dropped to the ground where he wiggled around for a moment, twitching and groaning in that weird way that people do when they’ve been knocked unconscious. When he came to a second later, Harper stood over him with one finger pointed directly in his face.

The crowd had gasped suddenly but was now silent and transfixed.

Harper’s entire balding head had turned beet-red. “Where were you, motherfucker? Where were you when we were fighting? Where were you when Josh was murdered? Where were you when Miller died? You didn’t pay for shit! We were the ones that bled! We were the ones that sacrificed! So don’t you ever fucking open your mouth to the captain again! If I ever so much as see you look in his direction again I swear to God I will fucking knock every tooth out of your mouth!”

Dazed and shocked, Jerry put a finger to his mouth and then looked at the blood on his fingertips as though it were the first time he’d ever seen himself bleed. He looked scared and disgusted, and then his look turned to indignation. He turned to Bus, again searching for support.

Bus shook his head. “I told you not come over here.” But he extended a hand and helped Jerry up off the ground. Jerry staggered back away from Lee and Harper who were both looking at him like they might both start into him again if he didn’t back off.

He pointed a trembling hand at them. “You’re both nuts. You’ve lost it.”

Disembodied voices came out of the crowd.

“
Give it a rest, Jerry.”

“
Yeah, why don’t you fuck off?”

“
Shove it up your ass, Jerry!”

Jerry turned his glare on the crowd, but couldn’t see who had spoken. A small contingent of people that clearly sided with Jerry surrounded him and seemed to escort him away like bodyguards for some dignitary, casting disdainful glances over their shoulders. Lee was dismayed to see that Jerry’s supporters were more than a dozen strong.

The rest of the small crowd began to dissipate. Several of them clapped for Harper, others shouted thanks to him, and one younger man threw him a thumbs up and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks!”

Bus, Harper, and Lee watched them leave, dark foreboding settling on them like a cloud. Jerry and his supporters had gone right, and the others had gone left. Some people remained in the middle, still milling about, not quite sure what to do with themselves.

Bus was the first to put it into words. “This place is divided, guys.”

“
I’m sorry, Bus.” Harper shook his head. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”

“
He deserved it,” Bus said simply.

“
The food is going to make things worse,” Lee observed. “It’ll calm things down at first, keep everyone’s bellies full for a little while. But we have no crops to harvest. We’re going to have to work hard to get through the winter.”

“
Even harder with this many people,” Bus agreed.

“
Once the food starts running low again, the divisions will become more obvious, unless we do something about it now.” Lee shifted his weight on the crutch. “How bad is it?”

Bus scratched his bearded chin. “Jerry wants us to be a cloister. He wants to reinforce our defenses and stay here and not let anyone in or out. He thinks letting any more people into the group is going to make it too difficult to survive. And there are a lot of people that agree with him. Not just the people you saw walking away with him.”

“
And what do you think, Bus?” Lee asked.

“
I think I agree with your plan. Jerry wants to batten down the hatches and wait it out, like it’s all eventually gonna blow over. I think he’s wrong. I think this is our life now, and we need to start adapting to it. More survivors only gives us more manpower. We’re just going to need more resources to support them.”

“
We’re going to have to start hunting,” Lee nodded. “There’s plenty of game around. And we need to start scavenging. There’s things we can use out there, we just have to find them. With better weapons and more people, it’ll be safer to do. We’ll need to find a bigger place, fortify it better. Someplace with enough land to plant some crops come spring.”

All three men nodded. They agreed, but what about the other people? What about Father Jim’s group? And the group from Smithfield? Now there were three distinct groups all jammed into one place together. They would have different ideas, and different people that they trusted. Even in Camp Ryder they were split, and Lee could only imagine it was the same for the Smithfield group—some would trust LaRouche simply based on his military knowledge, and some would trust Julia, because she took care of them. Father Jim’s group was clearly united in their opinion that he was in charge, but they were the smallest group by far.

“
It’s gonna be a bumpy road, gentlemen.” Lee looked at their faces and saw only determination. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

Harper nodded, still looking out at Camp Ryder, and it sounded like Miller when he said, “We’re with you, Captain.”

Bus took a deep breath. “Yep. We’re with you.”

CHAPTER 26: A DEAD MAN’S WISH

The two men collapsed at the base of a tree.

One wore jeans with holes in them and a plain white t-shirt with sooty smudges all over it. The other wore an ACU-pattern uniform, with a heavy tactical vest and an M4 slung around his shoulder. They both breathed hard as they lay at the base of the tree, but the man in the uniform was obviously not well. His breathing was more labored and it rattled in his chest wetly. His skin was unnaturally pale in the moonlight, and he sweat profusely. His eyes seemed vacant when they were open, which wasn’t often now. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his thigh.

“
Jacob,” the man in uniform whispered.

“
I’m here.” Jacob took hold of the other man’s shoulder. This was a rare moment of lucidity, when Captain Mitchell was not only able to form a coherent thought, but speak clearly. In the past few hours since the firebomb, Captain Mitchell had only spoken twice. Once was to ask for water, and the second time was a rambling and slurred lamentation about some predatory fish called an Oscar that he used to keep in his bunker. Except he didn’t call it a bunker. He called it “The Hole.”