Fire Birds (30 page)

“Do you have some bleach? I’ll get the others to work cleaning the inside the house.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll show you where.”

By dusk, the worst spots in the house had been scrubbed, and all the windows were open to air out the smell of chlorine. We sat across the length of the porch in the twilight eating canned peaches and listening to crickets and frogs. There was little to no conversation. Ordinarily, it would have felt peaceful and comforting having the other healthy people around, but I was edgy and anxious. Dan and Tim arrived with the water after dark. Once everyone was sure of their safety, we all went to bed.

The next day I got up a little later than everyone else. I didn’t like being the last one up, but it was nice to have coffee and food waiting for me. The others were sitting around in the kitchen finishing their breakfast when I came downstairs.

“Mornin’,” Dan said. “Cheryl was tellin’ us about the other horse you saw.”

I nodded while I poured myself a cup of coffee. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“We should catch it,” he said. “It looks like we might wait a day or two to get back to work in town, so we have time today.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” I said. I didn’t care. “Cheryl can show you where. I’m going out to look for Sara and Grant today. I won’t be able to help you.”

“Where are you planning to look?” Somerville asked.

“The usual places,” I said. “Then I’ll just drive around, I guess.”

“I aim to come along,” he said.

“How is it this farm doesn’t have a livestock trailer?” Dan said.

“It did,” I said, “but we moved it. Somebody took it later. I’ve seen more around. It won’t be hard to find one. You’ll have to find a truck to pull it unless Mr. Somerville will let you use his.”

“Mine don’t have a hitch,” he said. “You’ll have to find another one.”

“There’s a truck in the hangar that has a hitch,” Dan said. “We’ll go over there and pick it up.”

“I’d stay clear of the airport for a while,” Somerville said. “But that’s just me. You do what you want.”

“I don’t want to spend extra time lookin’ for a truck,” Dan said. “This is a sure thing, and it won’t take more than a couple minutes to pick it up. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

Cheryl, Dan, and Gail loaded some guns, a halter, some rope, and a bag of sweet feed into the back of their car and left to go find a truck, trailer, and the horse. Somerville drove us the opposite direction in his truck. The rest stayed behind. Andrew told me they would do some work around the place and try to repair the cistern. I suppose he was making an effort to have a good relationship, but I knew it was only because I was an able-bodied man that could help him later, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to manipulate me with religion.

“Let’s check where her teacher was staying,” I said. “Do you remember how to get there?”

“I think so,” Somerville said. “You ain’t still pissed at me about yesterday are you?”

“I’m not happy about it,” I replied.

“Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“I guess so.”

We were quiet for a while then I spoke again.

“In the beginning, this was all really scary,” I said, “but there was something freeing about it. Jen, Sara, and I used to sit around and talk about all the things we’d be able to do now. There’d be no one to stop us or tell us we couldn’t do it. We wouldn’t have bills to pay or a society that disapproved. We’d dream about a time when the infected would die off. We’d take what we wanted, and we’d live like kings.”

“I know,” he said. “Judy and I talked about things like that. We had quieter dreams, though–nothing extravagant in mind.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’ll never be like that. The undead situation is brutal, but everything else is brutal too. That’s how we live now. That preacher and his group forced Brian out of his own house for no other reason than they disapproved of him. That’s pretty damn brutal. Our selection of companions has gotten ugly.”

“Well now,” Somerville said, slowing the truck. “What do we have up here?”

Ahead, two zombies were on their knees facing each other over the centerline. One of them held a large snapping turtle by its back legs and was attempting to chew through its shell. The other creature had one of the turtle’s front legs, and the turtle was lashing out repeatedly, biting chunks out of the zombie’s sinewy arm. Somerville stopped the truck.

“Have you ever eaten turtle?” he asked me.

“No.”

“It’s tasty,” he said, “but they’re a pain in the ass to butcher. You could lose a finger trying to catch them if you ain’t careful. That’s a big one there. We could throw it in the back of the truck. What do you think?”

“I’d rather eat Spam,” I said.

Somerville got out of the truck and walked out to them. He looked around then pulled his pistol. He put one round each in their heads. The turtle dropped, landed on one of the creatures, and rolled onto its back in the road. It kicked at the air and extended its neck, trying to right itself. Somerville watched it a moment then pushed it over with the toe of his boot. The turtle came forward quickly and bit the boot. Somerville danced back and fired two shots into the turtle’s shell. He looked over at me, grinned, and shook his head. Then he holstered his weapon and returned to the truck.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he said. “The little shit was home free, but he had to be a dumbass.”

Somerville and I went to most of the same places Cheryl and I had gone the day before. When we stopped at Blaine’s place I took the time to dig up the garlic. We also picked a pail full of blackberries. It wouldn’t be long before blackberry season would be over. Another week or two would do it. I had hoped to put more berries away in the form of preserves, but those plans had been sidetracked. Somerville was eager to get back on the road. The tall weeds that had taken over made him nervous. He acted irritated when I went to get the pail from Blaine’s shed.

“Either we take an hour and pick these, or we leave them to go to waste,” I said. “There is no waiting for this stuff. They’re ready now and they won’t be here in a couple of days after the birds find them.”

“Speaking of birds…” Somerville said. He was looking up.

I followed his gaze. Two silver aircraft came over. They weren’t silent, but they weren’t very loud either. They were too high to give a detailed description without binoculars, but they were a basic airplane shape.

“Are they the drones?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do you think they’re flying them out of Fort Campbell?”

“Probably farther away,” he replied, “but I don’t know what kind of range they have.”

We watched them fly east to west until we couldn’t see them anymore.

“Why weren’t they sent out in the beginning?”

“They were,” he said. “I guess that’s what those reports were of cities getting bombed. I guess they stuck to the higher population centers. A fella in Bubbleland told me he’d seen helicopters too. My guess is they’ll burn out the bulk of the infected, then in a year or so they’ll send ground troops into important places to do cleanup if they need to.”

“Important places,” I repeated.

“Don’t ask me to define that,” he said. “I wouldn’t know.”

Once we’d collected the berries and the garlic and loaded them into the truck Somerville said, “Where to now?”

I shook my head, “One place is as good as the next. I’m hoping to get lucky.”

“Do you think Cheryl is right? Do you think they left town?”

“No,” I said.

“Do you want to go out and help the others catch that horse?”

“What for?”

“A friendly gesture,” he said.

“No,” I said. Then I thought a moment. “But we could go catch that goat. The farm that butts up against the backside of the Lassiter farm had a goat on the property. We haven’t checked there, but there’s a slim chance Grant and Sara went there.”

“Alright then, let’s go catch a goat.”

I was surprised to find the goat right away. It was still very much alive even though there were a few of the undead walking around in the weeds with it. Catching him didn’t happen right away, however. He didn’t act frightened; he just treated us like a nuisance. We’d sneak up on him while he was eating, then at the very last second he’d run a short distance away. Several times we thought we had him but he easily avoided us. Plus, we would have to stop every few minutes to club a zombie or two. Finally, we got him cornered in a barn. I grabbed his horns and held him while Somerville got a rope on him. He was incredibly strong, and it took everything we had to get him in the truck.

When we brought him back to the Lassiter farm, Andrew, Tim, and Laney left their work at the cistern and walked over to meet us.

“Real meat,” Laney said. “I’m so tired of eating squirrels and rabbits.”

“This isn’t food,” I said.

“We’ll have to stick with squirrels a while longer, Laney,” Andrew said, patting the goat. “This is going to be part of our breed stock.”

“My breed stock,” I corrected. “I caught it. The goat belongs to me.”

Andrew stared at me blankly, “Of course. I was being presumptuous.”

“That horse out there in the pasture belongs to me too,” I said. “And the chickens. Just so you know.”

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

“I don’t mind sharing some stuff, but I don’t want you thinking that you can lay claim to everything here. This is temporary.”

“Stop being such a jerk,” Laney said.

“No, Laney,” Andrew said, “he’s right. We’ll try to do the right thing around here. I do hope we can eventually move forward in the love of Jesus.”

I snorted and tugged the goat toward one of the barns.

Once we got the goat secured in one of the stalls, Somerville took me aside again.

“Take it easy on the old man,” he said. “You’re just showing everybody your cards…and your ass. You never know when you’ll need these people.”

I took the garlic into the other barn. Somerville followed me.

“I can drive to Biloxi,” he said, “but it sure would be nice to have five hundred miles worth of zombies, gangs, and burning land beneath me instead of around me. Hell, that’s a thousand miles there and back.”

I found some old window screens and spread out the garlic on them to cure.

“Ain’t you gonna say nothing?” he said.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be nice. Let’s get the berries. Maybe they’ll be appeased with berries. That’s what Jesus would do.”

I went out to the truck and got the pail of blackberries and took them to the others.

“Any of you canned before?” I asked.

Andrew nodded, “We put away some of our garden every year.”

“I have a book that tells how to do it, but I’d feel better if someone with experience did it.”

He took the bucket of berries then looked up at me, “You want us to can them for you?”

“Nah,” I said. “I’m trying to apologize. I want you to have them. You can make some preserves for the winter if you want.”

“Why not eat them while they’re fresh, and save your canning supplies for next year or the year after?”

“I’ve been trying to preserve any extra produce, but I guess there isn’t much extra now.”

“There is still plenty of food out there,” Andrew said. “Once we get set up and secured in town, I plan to concentrate on preparing for winter.”

“Do whatever you want,” I said. “They’re your berries now.”

“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll all share in God’s bounty.”

Dan, Cheryl, and Gail returned at dusk. Gail and Cheryl arrived in the car, and Dan came in right after them in a pickup pulling a little two-horse trailer. We all moved out to the front porch. When the truck was parked, Dan hopped out.

“Did you catch it?” Andrew said.

“Yeah, she’s in there,” Dan said, sounding a little frantic. “There’s a fire in town. It’s big. We saw it before we left. You can see it from here.”

Everyone got up and walked out into the yard so they could look toward the town. We didn’t have a good view because of trees, but I could make out the glow.

“Well,” Somerville said in a resigned tone, “I guess we all know what this means.”

“Shouldn’t we try to do something?” Gail said.

“Are you sure that is downtown?” Andrew said.

“Pretty sure,” Dan said. “Why don’t we drive that way to see? The tanker truck ain’t all the way full, but we got a lot of water. We could try to put it out.”

“We need to stay put,” Somerville said. “They could be out flying around. They probably have heat sensors and night vision. Hell, they could just see your headlights. I hate to say it, but let it burn.”

“Councilman, would they target the buildings?” Andrew said. “Maybe it’s the mob that’s burnin’.”

“Could be,” Somerville replied. “I don’t know if it matters. That stuff they’re using is a lot like napalm; it splatters and burns. I’ve seen them fire into buildings when they thought someone was inside.”