She loved tending to the livestock, getting eggs from the chickens and petting the goats. She spent much of her free time—chores always needing to be done first—reading books that George and Joanne had acquired over the years.
She worked with George, an ex-marine. He showed her numerous survival tricks, many of which she already knew, but hand to hand combat was George’s specialty. She was young and small, but as long as she practiced and stayed diligent the techniques would stay with her.
George had also been a gun collector and had over thirty rifles and handguns. Ten were from his own collection, but from the numerous scavenging missions he was able to pick up many more. He had ammo for most, but not all; some were simply for show.
Even though life around the house was peaceful, George always maintained certain security measures. Riley was told about the gangs that lived in the cities and how they controlled much of the area near them. George kept many of the guns in hidden places around the house and property—tool chests, supply trunks, by the woodpiles and in trees. They were all kept oiled and cleaned regularly.
An underground bunker, supplied with weapons, food, lanterns, a kerosene heater and other supplies, was about three hundred feet from the house’s property line—hidden in the woods. If the house was ever under siege, the family was told to head there and hide.
Spending time with Eric was wonderful, something she and the boy both needed to help their spirits grow. They practiced self-defense, went fishing, played board and card games. Eric loved playing hide and seek and it was something the whole family could enjoy. Games of wiffle ball were played, as well as badminton, Riley usually letting Eric win. But the best thing of all were the silly jokes they told and the laughing they did, something all children were supposed to be able to do.
Being the elder and the road-hardened one, Riley took on the role of teacher whenever they worked on something. Teaching had brought her own skills on the various subjects to a new level, even shooting. She was able to see things from a different perspective and in return her own skills at fishing, fighting and even shooting had improved.
All in all, life had become as normal as it could for Riley, something she wished her father could have been a part of.
It was a beautiful, sunny summer day when she and Eric had gone fishing at the nearby lake. The fish were biting as if the lake had nothing more for them to eat. Riley caught five while Eric had a whopping eight fish in his bucket. They would eat well for a couple days and have to smoke the fish in order for them to keep.
Having just arrived back at the house, Eric hurried inside to begin gutting and cleaning the fish for dinner. Riley, having washed up at the lake, went up to her room to change into a clean set of clothes. When she was finished, she came downstairs and went out to the deck. Joanne had told her to tell George to hurry up, that dinner would be ready in about an hour, when she saw a man approaching. He was walking down the long driveway. George had seen him too and had stopped chopping wood, but held onto the axe.
Riley turned and called into the house. “Joanne,” she yelled. “Come quick.”
Joanne arrived within seconds. She was wearing an apron caked with fish guts and brought with her the fresh aroma of fish and onion. Riley wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag or eat at the conflicting odor.
Joanne brushed past Riley, immediately seeing the man. Riley turned. The man was now almost to George. They were conversing.
The stranger had wild orange hair making his head appear as if it were on fire. He was shirtless, wearing a cut-off jean jacket vest and blue jeans with black leather boots. He appeared to be injured; gashes lined his arms and neck. George had brought the axe up, resting it on his shoulder. If he needed to, he could swing it down fast. For what most would think is a casual resting position, Riley understood that everything George did had a reason.
“Get inside,” Joanne told Riley. “Stay with Eric.”
The woman ran inside, quickly returning with a rifle. She rested her arms on the deck’s railing and took aim. “Go,” she told Riley again.
Riley ran upstairs, Eric following. She went to her bedroom window and looked out. The stranger had his arms held high and was spinning around. George was still standing in the same position. Then the man began walking toward the house, George following.
“Who’s the man?” Eric asked.
“No idea,” Riley answered.
For the first time in a while, she was nervous. Why did this man have to come here? They’d been doing so well by themselves. She’d begun to think they would never be discovered by another human being. She needed to find out who this man was. What did he want? George and Joanne were bright, good people. They’d survived a long time. She would have to trust that they knew how to handle the situation. Even after spending so much time with the Milners, she still didn’t like the idea of letting others look out for her. She loved the thought of them being like a mother and father and Eric as a brother—which they all had become—but ultimately in this world she had to rely on herself. But she would trust in her new family. Trust that they would handle it and if they needed her she would be ready.
Eric stood by the door, listening to the voices downstairs. “It’s hard to hear what they’re saying.”
“Don’t worry about it. If that man is up to anything, George and Joanne will know and take care of it. Take care of us.” She wasn’t sure if she believed in her own words, but for now she had to.
Not before long, Riley and Eric had taken up a game of chess, Riley hoping to take Eric’s mind off the situation. A few minutes in, and Joanne entered the bedroom, still holding the rifle.
“Is it safe?” Eric asked.
Joanne sat on Riley’s bed, resting the gun against the dresser. “The man said his car broke down a few miles from here. He’s hungry and in need of aid.”
“Do you believe him?” Riley asked, sensing uneasiness in Joanne’s voice.
Joanne sighed, shoulders sagging a little. “He seems sincere…” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
That night, the stranger sat at the dinner table. His name was Renny Filder. His wounds were bandaged and he was allowed to wash in the basin in the backyard—a tub filled with rainwater used for bathing.
Dinner went well; the man—surprisingly—was a good conversationalist. He had been a corrections officer at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in Tarrytown, New York. He lost his wife and daughter to zombies and joined up with a group of people. They scavenged, moving around like nomads, surviving day to day like so many others.
He had a sister in Canada just outside of Toronto and with nothing else going on, he decided to head there and see if she was still alive. On his way north, he ran into some bad people. They had weapons—guns, bows and arrows—and vehicles that were armor plated. They chased after him, but he’d managed to lose them. He saw what appeared to be an old dirt road leading from the highway, but blocked off by a chain-link fence. Desperate and realizing it was his only chance, Renny hit the gas, breaking through the rusty chain-link fence, and traveled along a dirt path, his car bottoming out every second, until he came out onto a paved road. He sped along, turning onto another road, then another and another until he lost his pursuers.
“But then my engine started smoking and the car just wouldn’t go.” Renny shook his head. “I was glad to have escaped those people, but I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe for long so I got out and began jogging down the road looking for a place to hide. And thank the good Lord, I found you guys.”
“I suppose your story is similar to whoever’s left in the world,” George said. He motioned to Joanne. “My wife’s got two sisters, one in Texas and one in Florida, but there’s just no way for us to get there safely, especially with the kids.”
“And you?” Renny asked, taking a sip of tea.
“I’ve got a brother…had a brother. He lived not far from here. He’s long dead. Shot by looters.” George’s cheek muscles flexed. Joanne reached out, patting his hand.
“Sorry about that,” Renny said.
“I just remind myself that the world’s a different place now. People in search of loved ones, not knowing if they’re alive, dead, or undead…” He paused, looking to his wife. “Well, anyway. It must’ve been tough for so many of the survivors.”
“More tea, Renny?” Joanne asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
Riley sat quietly during the meal. She didn’t like the stranger. She didn’t want to judge the man by his appearance, she could only imagine how she must’ve appeared at times, but this man seemed to be performing, as if auditioning for a role in a movie.
After dinner she and Eric went up to their rooms, telling Joanne they would be playing. Instead, she sat on the top of the stairs and listened to the rest of the conversation.
“Nice kids,” she heard Renny say.
“Thanks,” George responded. “They’re good kids. Been tough for them, losing their way of life, friends, comforts and all. But we do our best to keep life as normal and peaceful as possible out here.”
Riley continued to listen from upstairs. She’d grabbed her gun from her closet and was thankful that Eric had stayed in his room. She didn’t want him asking her questions or to worry. He seemed to think the man was just fine.
She’d have to keep an eye out. Stay alert and be prepared. She had no doubt that George and Joanne were as prepared as could be which made her feel a little better.
She still couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy was bad news. It wasn’t his condition, numerous tattoos or ripped clothing and wild hair that bothered her. It was his mannerisms. The guy was overly nice, joyful and polite, especially for someone who’d lost so much and was alone, his car broken down. Perhaps he was truly grateful, and like herself, happy to be around well-adjusted individuals. Maybe seeing normal people, realizing there were some left in the world, had brightened the man’s spirits. Made him believe in mankind again.
Riley had seen too much hate and destructive behavior to believe in the benefit of doubt. Yes, she’d found the Milners, a loving and caring family—a living fossil of the past, a glitch in the world. The chances of finding another person with the same values and morals of the Milners, of herself, and all of them coming together, meeting as they did…was small. Less than a one-percent chance. It just wasn’t possible. She had simply gotten lucky. No, she decided when thinking about trusting Renny. He was up to no good. She couldn’t prove it, but she needed to talk to George and Joanne. She couldn’t leave something like this up to others without being involved. The Milners viewed her as a girl, but she’d been through the grind. Had killed, survived. She’d earned the right to talk.
“Tonight, you’ll sleep in the basement,” Riley heard George tell Renny. “It’s all boarded up and warm. There’s a cot down there and blankets too.”
“I appreciate the hospitality.”
“If you have to use the bathroom during the night, there’s a bucket and if it’s bowel related, just bang on the door and one of us will escort you out back. I hope you understand. We don’t know you, but we’re willing to help you out.”
“More than fair and more than I could’ve hoped for,” the man answered.
“And we’ll see about fixing that car of yours tomorrow morning. Get you back on the road again.”
Riley let out a breath, a smile creeping over her face. She liked the sound of that. George had no plans on letting the man stay. The sooner tomorrow came and the man was on his way, the better she’d feel.
Chapter Eight
Damages
Riley couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed, her mind racing with worry about the stranger in the basement. There was no way for the man to escape. The windows were bricked over long ago by George to keep people from entering. And the rear exit door was locked. The only solace she received was from knowing that at all times either George or Joanne guarded the door to the basement. Still, she would feel more at ease when the man left.
What if he had accomplices waiting for him at his car? It would take some time for her to get over worrying that he would return with more people. The best bet, and she realized how barbaric it was, was to kill him. Leave no chance for him to return with numbers. Maybe his companions already knew about the Milner home and had sent him in as a spy. Check out their fortifications—learn about the opposition. These were the countless, unanswerable questions that raced through Riley’s mind, keeping her awake throughout the night.