Here We Stand (Book 2): Divided (Surviving The Evacuation) (19 page)

“And Kaitlin? The children?”

“Fine. All fine. Kaitlin was taking a group south today. She wanted to see whether the bridges could be demolished. The kids are in the village. It’s a… it’s a nice place. I go to sleep at night inside a house, knowing I’ll wake in the morning. I never thought that would be as much as I’d need, but it is.”

“The sign by the road, the one warning of a quarantine zone, that was you?” he asked.

“Sort of. I told them what we’d seen near Providence. Everyone was worried about too many refugees coming.”

“They didn’t come?” he asked.

“A few people arrived after we did, but not many. Not enough. Have you seen many others?”

“Since I escaped, since the bombs fell, there was a farmer who was infected. She died. And there were six soldiers, and one guy in a small town. And now you.”

“You two can catch up later. For now you can help,” Jonas called from the house.

“Help with what?” Tom asked Helena as they walked up the path.

“Supplies,” she said. “We’re collecting everything that’s not nailed down from everywhere that’s nearby. Then we’re going to come back for the nails. What we can’t make, we need to find, and what we can’t find, we’ll have to learn to do without. That’s what Jimmy says. It’s become his mantra”

“Jimmy? The kid who runs the restaurant? He’s still here? I thought he’d have gone bankrupt.”

“Well, that’s something we never have to worry about again,” Helena said.

“Here, Tom, give me a hand,” Jonas called. He led Tom inside, and to a front room where a dead woman lay on the floor. She looked almost peaceful. It was an odd sight, but it took Tom a moment to work out why. It was that he could see her face. No one had destroyed her brain.

“How did she die?” Tom asked.

“Bled out,” Jonas said. The dark-haired woman passed him a sheet. “Thank you, Naomi,” he said.

Together, they wrapped the woman up. “Tom, take her legs.”

Tom grabbed hold, and together they carried her out to the pickup.

“She didn’t turn,” Tom said, as they placed her in the back of the vehicle.

“No,” Jonas said. “She was bitten as she was trying to get the box of ammo from the van. My fault.” He sighed. “We need to conserve ammunition, and this lot, they shoot at shadows. We’ve Kaitlin and a few veterans, but most people haven’t even been on a range. Lost a couple to friendly fire a few nights ago. Literally a couple. They went for a moonlight walk. Didn’t tell the sentries.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. So I was keeping the ammo in the truck,” Jonas said. “I thought that would be safer, get people out of the habit of relying on guns for when the ammo is gone. It was a tragic miscalculation, based on never having seen more than a couple of the undead at a time. Don’t know where those zombies came from. I mean, they came from over there.” He gestured to the north. “You can see the trail they cut, and they must have heard the sound of the engines, but where they started from, that’s the real question. One that’s going to give me a lot of sleepless nights.” He rested his hands on the tailgate. “You worked for the president. They say you were some kind of secret agent.”

“Entirely civilian,” Tom said. “I worked for him before he was elected. When Addison realized he was going to take the fall for the conspiracy, he set me up.”

“I guess what I’m asking,” Jonas said, “is whether you know of… I don’t know, a military command or… Is it just us? Is any help going to come?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Helena said something about Britain being free of the zombies. That they were putting together an evacuation or something. You think they might have survived?”

“Who knows where the bombs have fallen? But I might be able to find out. And there might be other survivors. I saw a few, but I was held prisoner for over a week. Their attempts at torture were crude and brief, but it was far from restful. The bombs saved my life, but since then I’ve been on the road. Ask me my opinion after I’ve had some sleep and a decent meal, and I might have a better answer.” He looked down again at the corpse. “She didn’t turn.”

“No. Bled out before she could. I think an artery was cut, though the position of the wound is wrong. I could carry out an autopsy, I guess, but to what end? Dead is dead. That’s even more true now than before.”

Chapter 21 - The Village At The End Of The World

Crossfields Landing, Maine

Tom drove, following Jonas and the others back to the village. Helena sat in the passenger seat. The rear was filled with half-empty boxes and hastily packed suitcases.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” Helena said. “There’s been so much bad news of late.”

“Getting here was that difficult?”

“It wasn’t easy,” she said. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, but we got here. That’s what matters. And they let us in. I wasn’t sure they would. Martha swung it. Or the presence of the children did.”

“Who’s Martha?”

“You’ll meet her. We’re living with her, me, Kaitlin, and the kids. She and Jonas are running things. Well, not exactly running. It’s not as organized as that. They know what to do, or they act like it, and everyone else is happy to follow. More or less.”

“Who’s ‘everyone else’?”

“It’s a mix,” she said. “Some are locals, if you count anywhere within fifty miles as local. Some are refugees, and there’re a few who lived here years ago, moved away for work, but headed back because they couldn’t think of anywhere safer. Not everyone stays. That’s the weird thing. People sometimes leave. Not in the last couple of days, but there were a few who decided to take their chances elsewhere. They were hunting for a better refuge than we had to offer. And there were three guys who…. well, I don’t know what happened, but I think Jonas kicked them out. He’s a good guy. Most of the people are. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I don’t know, Tom. It’s all too much to take in. Against what standards should their actions be judged? The old ones seem inadequate. Everything works for now, and it will probably work tomorrow. That’s as far ahead as I’m willing to guess, particularly after… after the bombings. What’s it really like out there?”

“On the road? I’m still processing it.” The convoy began to slow. They passed another sign warning of a quarantine zone ahead. Just behind it was a pile of twice-dead zombies.

“Abigail was worried about so many refugees coming that their farm would be overrun,” he said.

“Who’s Abigail?”

He told her about the old farmer he’d met, reaching the point where she died just as the convoy came to a halt.

“It’s the roadblock,” Helena said. “They’ve got to move the razor wire out of the way.”

A moment later, the minivan started moving again. As he drove past, Tom saw a great mass of razor wire to the side of the road. Thick wooden boards had been attached to the side so that the wire could be moved, allowing the vehicles to drive through. Once all three vehicles were past, the wire was dragged back into place. Fifteen feet deep, it stretched off to either side of the road, wrapping around trees, occasionally reinforced with concrete and metal.

“Impressive,” he murmured.

“It stops the zombies. Not that there are many,” she said. “Only a couple a day. Until today.”

The barricade beyond the wire was little different to the other hastily built emplacements he’d seen. Metal and wood, reinforced with concrete, set around a movable gate. Behind it was a crude rampart, currently manned by a pair of sentries who looked simultaneously bored and curious as to who this new arrival was.

“Is it really over, Tom?” she asked.

“The conspiracy, yeah, I think so. I think Jonas had the right of it. All we’ve got now is the zombies, starvation, radiation, the weather, and all the rest to worry about. I guess it really could be worse.”

The convoy came to a halt on Main Street.

“We’re using the old tackle shop as a storeroom,” Helena said, getting out. Tom followed her. A small crowd had gathered, though their attention wasn’t on him but on the corpse that Naomi and Jonas were maneuvering out of the truck’s bed. Tom stood and watched, not looking at the funereal labor but at the people. Living, breathing people. Some looked upset, others tired, but none looked scared.

“Too many zombies came,” Jonas said. He didn’t shout, but his voice carried clearly over the small crowd. “About fifty of them, all told. Bobbi died. It’s sad. It’s very sad, but some of you are meant to be on guard. For everyone else, we’ll be burying her in the old cemetery in half an hour.”

Tom watched as people went to help carry the dead woman’s body. He wanted to help, but it wasn’t his place. He hadn’t known her, and his presence would only bring questions that would detract from a moment that should be about the life of a woman who’d died.

“The children will want to see you,” Helena said.

“Sure. And I’d like to see them,” he said.

They were staying in a house off Second Street. Almost big enough to be a hotel, it was a private home, belonging, he guessed to the spry woman who opened the door. Her fiery-red hair would return to grey when the dye ran out, and there was a taut smoothness to the lines around the mouth suggesting a recent lift, but nothing could hide the experience in the eyes or the kindness in her smile.

“This is Tom Clemens,” Helena said.

“It is? How wonderful,” she said. “I’m Martha Greene. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about, but for now you can distract the children. I saw the body from the top window. Who was it?”

“Bobbi,” Helena said.

“That’s sad,” Martha said. “Any death would be, but hers, now?” She sighed. “If you can watch the children, I’d like to go to the cemetery.”

“You came back!” Luke exclaimed. Only a protest that he needed to wash and change prevented Tom from being mobbed. He was halfway through a cold shower before he realized why the children were so excited. In this new world, when people left, they seldom returned. Washed, and wearing someone else’s clothes, he had no excuse not to go downstairs. Luke was waiting in the hall, Soanna in the doorway to the front room.

“You have to tell us what happened,” she said. Her tone was accusatory. He let himself be led into the room. Other than an old sofa, older armchair, and very new TV, it was sparsely furnished. The children were rectifying that with an odd assortment of toys, a semi-permanent blanket fort, and almost as many books as had been in the library of the house they’d stayed in the first night he’d met them.

“Well?” Soanna prompted.

“Do you remember the helicopter?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.

After he’d sanitized the events of the past week and a half, the version he told them was almost as brief as the summary he’d given Helena, Jonas, and the others outside of the bed-and-breakfast.

“I see,” Soanna said when he’d finished. Before she could pronounce judgment on his tale, the door opened. Kaitlin came in.

“You made it,” she said.

“So did you,” Tom said.

“You missed the story,” Luke said.

“He was telling us what happened,” Soanna added.

“Are the children safe?” Kaitlin asked.

“Safer than they would have been,” Tom said.

“Good,” she said. “That’s what matters. I’m glad you’re alive, but word’s spread that you’re here. Everyone wants to know what you saw.”

He eased himself out of the chair. Leaving Helena to watch the children, he followed Kaitlin back outside.

The meeting was being held in the restaurant. The old sign had been taken down, but the new one had yet to be put up. He wondered whether Jimmy even had the funds to have had a new sign made. In a place where little ever happened, the arrival of Jimmy and Andy had been talked about so much the previous summer that even Tom, during his one brief visit, had heard of it. The rest of the details had been provided during his last weekend here after the election.

They were two brothers. Andy had been in college, a quarterback on a football scholarship. Jimmy was still in high school when Andy had sustained a head injury during a training session. It resulted in irreparable neurological damage, though Tom wasn’t precisely sure how that manifested. Andy and Jimmy’s parents, on getting the phone call no parent ever wants, had jumped into their car, sped away from their home, and then died in a five-car pile-up on the freeway five miles from the hospital.

With the insurance claims to both accidents tied up in court, Jimmy had sold their parents’ home, and moved himself and his brother to Maine. The building had been a tackle shop and store, and part of their inheritance, though it had been shuttered for years. They’d brought a couple of friends with them and hadn’t arrived with empty pockets. Even so, their funds had been seriously drained when they’d opened a restaurant in a place that only had customers for three months of the year. However close they must have been to absolute penury, the cruel twists of fate that had brought them here might just have saved their lives.

Andy still had a footballer’s physique, and looked incongruous in apron and rubber gloves standing in the door to the kitchen. Jimmy, half his size and a quarter his width, bustled about and behind, carrying trays of bowls to the tables. A quick headcount told Tom there were around seventy people inside the building, seated at tables that had been pushed together into two long rows. Light came from lanterns hanging on supporting joists, turning quizzical features into sinister expressions.

“Come on, over here,” Jonas said, taking Tom’s arm and leading him toward a bar from which all the bottles had been removed. “You’re going to have to sing for your supper. Or talk, at least. Tell us what’s going on in the world.”

Tom looked at the faces staring back at him. They all had the same expression of exhausted curiosity.

“It began a long time ago, but I’ll start with the election,” he said. He talked as food was served, as it was eaten, and for long after the empty bowls were pushed away. He kept to the truth, and almost the entire truth at that. When he finished, their expressions had changed. Some were shocked, some confused, others were angry.

“That’s bombs fallen on California, Texas, Pennsylvania or New York, and across the border in Canada,” Jonas said in summary. “No help is coming. We’re on our own, and we don’t know the extent of the devastation. We’ll have to talk about this, and what it means, and how it changes what we have to do, but not tonight because it doesn’t change what we have to do tomorrow. Thank you for sharing what you know, Tom,” he finished. “Jimmy, is there anything left for him to eat?”

The teenager placed a bowl on a table by the kitchen door. Tom was grateful to sit, and kept his eyes down as he ate. It was actually quite good, a fish stew where at least the principal ingredient was fresh. He didn’t look up when he heard chairs being pushed under tables and people moving to the door.

“It is a lot to take in,” Jimmy said quietly when the restaurant was almost empty.

“Not really,” Kaitlin said. “This morning, we woke knowing nuclear bombs had fallen, but we didn’t know where. All that’s changed is that we know Addison was behind some part of this apocalypse, and that he’s dead. That doesn’t alter what we have to do tomorrow.”

“No,” Jonas said. “It doesn’t. Find enough supplies to create a stockpile. Always more supplies. Food’s a priority, but medicine’s a close second. There’s a lot of people here running low on their prescriptions.”

“And we need more crockery,” Jimmy said. “Andy and me’ll be up until midnight washing this lot. We’ll be up again before dawn, chopping the wood to burn on the stove to heat the water to wash the bowls from breakfast.” He said the last as if it was a nursery rhyme, and with a smile as if to emphasize that he didn’t mind the labor.

“Chickens,” Andy rumbled from the doorway. Tom waited to see if anything more would be added.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Jimmy said. “We’ve been talking about it. Eggs would make a nice change from fish.”

“Another thing to look for tomorrow, then,” Jonas said, standing up.

“Tomorrow,” Tom said. “Can I borrow a flashlight to get back to my cottage?”

“No,” Jonas said. “Everyone sleeps in the village.”

“Everyone sleeps on Main Street or Second,” Helena said. “But you can sleep in the house.”

“Sure,” Jonas said. “He has to go back there, anyway. Martha will want to know the story, too.”

They bid goodnight to Jimmy and Andy, and stepped out into the dark street. The complete absence of electric lights and the lack of engine noise made it impossible to pretend that it was an ordinary night. Whether it was the company of others, the organization of such a large group, or the welcome he’d received despite everything he’d told them, he felt hopeful. The old world was gone, and with it his old life. A new one was beginning. It would never be easy, but for him, if for no one else, it might be a better one.