Crash III: There's No Place Like Home (21 page)

Michael stood up and stretched to the sky as he called to the house. “Do we have any water in there, George? I’m really thirsty.”

Without giving George the time to respond, he tossed his trowel to the floor and walked across the muddy garden to the back door.
 

Once inside, Michael closed the patio door and walked over to George at the sink.
 

When George turned around and looked down at the muddy trail he’d just walked into the house, Michael stopped in his tracks, fear sending ice through his veins. “Sorry.”

Although George batted his hand through the air as if he didn’t care, the frown on his face said otherwise. He still humored Michael. “Don’t worry.”
 

When he looked up at him, he paused for a second and then said, “Are you okay? You look pale.”

At George mentioning it, Michael suddenly felt pale. “Don’t look now, but I think there’s someone on the other side of the wall watching me. They’ve been there for a while.”

“Do they know you’ve seen them?”

Michael gave a sharp shake of his head.

When George frowned and looked past him, Michael hissed, “I said don’t look.”

George turned back to the sink and continued washing up. Impatience added a bite to his words. “What should I do then?”

“I’m coming in here for a drink. Once I’ve had that drink, I’ll go back outside and sow some more seeds. I’ll pretend I don’t know they’re there, and while I’m doing that, you sneak around the other side and jump ’em.”

“Them?”

“There may be two. But I don’t think there are any more.”

George continued scrubbing and his voice dropped lower when he said, “Okay, I can do that.”

Trade

Michael trembled as he dug the next small trench in the garden. There could be more than two people on the other side of the wall. The others could be holding back. They might jump George and kill him.

Before Michael’s panic gathered steam, he heard George walk around the corner, his deep voice booming out. “Oi, you. What the fuck are you doing, you fucking pervert?”

A man’s voice replied, strained and high-pitched. “No, it’s not like that. Honest.”

The heavy thud sounded like a fist connecting with some part of the man’s body. Then a sharp wheeze followed by another thud as the man evidently hit the ground.

George called over the wall. “It’s okay, Michael, I’ve got him.”

***

George had strapped the man to a high-backed chair. Just looking at him took Michael back to being with Julius in the warehouse. But what else could they do? Who knew what this man was capable of?

The face didn’t match Michael’s image of the man. When he’d seen the black hair and bald patch, he’d expected someone older. But this man had a round, boyish look. He appeared to be fit too; like he exercised.

George had a kitchen knife in his hand, the shiny blade as long as his forearm. He stepped toward the man and pointed it at him. “What the fuck were you doing outside our house?”
 

When George moved the tip of the blade forward so it was only a hair’s width away from the man’s eyeball, the man responded, addressing the knife rather than George. “I’m not a pervert, honest. It’s not like that.”

“Well, you best start telling me what the fuck it is like before I fuck you up. I’m tired of other people’s bullshit. I have no fucking patience left for it.”

George gripped the blade so tightly his hand shook. It looked like it took all of his resolve to refrain from plunging it directly into the man’s eye. The man knew it too.
 

“I’m… I’m… from another community. We’re not hostile—”

“I’ve heard that before.”

The man’s breaths quickened and he continued watching the blade.

Just watching him made Michael’s lungs tight. He seemed legit. Touching George’s muscled arm, Michael gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let the man talk, George.”

When George turned to the man again, he nodded. “If you’re telling the truth, this could work out well for you. We want to make contact with other survivors. We’re looking for allies.”

“What are allies?” Michael said.

George and the man both looked at him and his face grew hot.
 

The man finally spoke. “Friends, son. I saw you guys planting seeds and thought you’d be interested in trading with us.”

“And this is when you tell me you want the boy, yeah?”

A hard frown crushed the man’s soft features, and he shook his head as if George’s suggestion had left a bad taste in his mouth. “No. I’ve told you, we’re nothing like those horrible bastards roaming the city. We want to rebuild society. To do that, we have to behave in a civilized way.”

“So why would we want to start trading with you?”

“I thought you said you needed allies?”

“We do, but we’re not desperate. So why should we get involved with your community?” Before the man could respond, George, who still had his knife raised, said, “Look, I have a boy with me. A boy who’s seen more shit than an eleven-year-old should ever see. I need to make sure that any decision I make doesn’t threaten his existence. So tell me; what benefits are there in us getting involved with your community?”

“I think alliances are long-term thinking,” the man said. “If we want to survive for years rather than weeks…”

Michael stepped forward and applied gentle pressure to George’s arm again, encouraging him to lower the knife.
 

“I think it makes sense,” Michael said gently as hope rose in his chest. “I just want somewhere safe to live. I want to be around normal people.”

The scowl returned to George’s features as he turned to the man. “Okay, fine. We’re going to check your community out. We’re going to take you with us, but if I get any hint of funny business, I’m slitting your throat. You got it?”

The man nodded. “Thank you. You won’t get any of that, I promise. We’re legit.”

George stared at the man and spoke in a low growl. “You’d best fucking be.”

Community

Michael, George, and Keith walked down a dusty track with thick bushes on either side. George had brought the long kitchen knife with him and currently had it to Keith’s throat. “Just fucking stay still.”

“Why don’t you ease up a little?” Michael said as he watched Keith shuffling along in front of George. “It’s probably hard for him to walk straight with you holding him like that.”

With wild eyes, George scanned their surroundings. “I don’t like this, Michael. I don’t like this one fucking bit. I feel like we’re walking into a shooting gallery. There could be anything in these fucking bushes, and we have nowhere to go should we need to. I need to keep this fucker close in case we’re ambushed.”

Red-faced and with his mouth flapping, Keith looked like a fish on a riverbank. A slight slip from either him or George and that knife was cutting his throat.
 

“George,” Michael said, “you’ve got to give him a bit more of a chance to speak. There’s no way he can tell us anything with you holding him like that.”

Although George stared hard at Michael, he eased his grip on his prisoner and paused to let him recover.

Keith gasped and took several deep breaths before nodding at the track in front of them. “You’ll see the gates when we walk ’round this next corner.”

George pulled Keith tight again and whispered in his ear. “And you’re sure it’s not going to kick off? The last thing I need is some sketchy motherfucker attacking me because they can’t keep their fucking emotions in check.”

At the moment, George is the sketchiest motherfucker around
— Michael kept that thought to himself.
 

With Keith turning purple again, Michael pulled on George’s sleeve. “You’re holding him too tightly, George. Give him some room to breathe, yeah?”

George eased off, and Keith rubbed his neck then said, “It’ll be fine. They expect people to be a little on edge, and I told them I wouldn’t bring anyone here if they were a threat. It’s a tense time in the world at the moment. No one trusts anyone, so we expect emotions to be more on the surface.”

When they rounded the next corner, Michael stared at the corrugated gates up ahead. They stood at least twelve feet tall and had a grassy mound just as high on either side. The natural wall stretched away from the gate.

George turned to Michael. “Remind me why we’re here again?”

Before Michael could reply, George had pulled Keith tighter than before. When he pressed the knife against his throat, a small amount of blood rolled down the blade.
 

“George, you’re hurting him.”

Before Michael could say anything else, he followed George’s line of sight. Two men had stood up from behind the gates. Each had a shotgun in their hand, and they pointed them straight at Michael and George.
 

Although George addressed Keith, he raised his voice for the men to hear. “I thought you said this would be cool, Keith. This don’t look cool to me. This looks very fucking far from cool.”

Fortunately, Michael didn’t need to tell George to let Keith talk this time.
 

Keith held his hands up to the men with the guns at the gates. “Will, Johnny, lower your weapons. These people mean us no harm.”

The tension left Michael’s shoulders as he watched one of the men lower his gun. It returned with interest when he saw the other one hadn’t.

The man flicked the long barrel of his raised gun at George. “It doesn’t look like they don’t mean us any harm, Dad.”

Now he’d mentioned it, Michael could see the family resemblance. He too had a well-built frame and a soft-featured face.
 

When George pointed his knife at the man with the gun, Michael’s entire body sank. George needed to keep his cool.
 

“You’d best put that gun down, boy,” George said. “Tell him, Keith. Tell him to drop his fucking weapon.”

Instead of lowering it, Keith’s son lifted the stock to his shoulder and peered down the barrel at George.
 

Before Michael could speak, Keith said, “Will, listen to me. This man doesn’t want to hurt me. You’re creating the problem by pointing that gun at us. Put your weapon down, and this silliness will stop. I brought them here, and I haven’t used any key words yet.”

“You have key words?” George asked.

“Of course, but I haven’t used them,” he said before turning his attention back to Will. “They aren’t a threat to me. You need to trust the system more.”

Without moving his gun, Will shook his head. “He has a fucking knife to your throat.”

“It’s insurance, you fucking idiot,” George said, keeping Keith between him and the shotgun. “What do you expect me to do? I’m approaching a strange community, and I now have a fucking gun pointing at me. We’re open to the idea of finding a new trading partner, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I’m not going to walk straight up here and trust that you’re legit. The reason I ain’t dead yet is because I take precautions.”
 

Finally, Will lowered his shotgun. After a pause, George pulled his knife away from Keith’s throat.
 

Michael let go of a deep breath and looked at Keith, his face now red with anger rather than lack of oxygen. “Have you two finished?” he said.

Neither man responded.
 

Keith pointed at Michael while looking at his son. “He has canned fruit in that carrier bag. He’s come to swap it for some bread and seeds.”

The other man disappeared behind the wall, leaving just Will up there on his own.

A few seconds later, the sound of bolts ran down the other side of the gates.

When the gate opened, a girl walked out. No older than Lola, she held a loaf of bread and a clear, plastic bag. “Here’s the bread and seeds.”

The same soft features of Will and Keith defined this girl’s face. She must be related to them too.

The girl stopped moving when she was still a distance away from Michael. When Michael looked up at George, George nodded. “Go on, son.”

Everyone watched Michael, and near silence hung in the air. Michael halved the distance between himself and the girl then stopped.

The dusty track crunched beneath the girl’s large black boots as she walked the rest of the way forward.
 

A gust of wind whipped the girl’s long, blond hair and threw the scent of soap at Michael. What he would give to take a bath. They made the exchange, and Michael nodded at the girl before she turned and walked away without responding.
 

As Michael walked back, he saw George looking at the bread and seeds in his hands. “What seeds are these?” he asked.

When she stopped and turned around, the girl pulled her fringe from her face and smiled. “Tomato seeds. They’re lovely when they’ve grown.”

“You sure it ain’t magic fucking beans?”

The girl laughed and shook her head.

“Something funny, princess?”

For a few seconds, the smile remained on the girl’s face as if she thought George was joking. When she realized he wasn’t, it fell, and she turned around and walked away again.

Before the gates had closed completely, Michael caught a glimpse of the community. Camper trailers and mobile homes took up a lot of the space. It looked much like the traveler camps his dad would point out to him when they drove past them.

Michael backed up until he was next to George. “We’re good to go now,” he said.

Instead of letting Keith go, George raised his knife to Keith’s throat and dragged him backward with them.

At the gates, Will raised his gun again. “What the fuck are you doing with my dad? You have what you came for; now let him go.”

“Once I get around this corner,” George called back, “I’ll let him go.”

“Bullshit!” Will’s gun shook as he pointed it down at them. “I don’t trust you one fucking bit.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, William; I’m telling you how it is.”

As they backed away, Michael increased the distance between him and George.
 

Once they rounded the corner, George let go of Keith.

Keith dipped a bow in the pair’s direction. “Thank you for giving us a chance. If you come with peace in your hearts, you’re welcome any time. I’m confident we can work well together.”