Authors: James Cook
“Why are we stopping?” He asked.
“You’re welcome.” I replied.
He gave me a sidelong glance for a moment, then realized what I meant and looked down, flushing a bit.
“Yeah, I guess I have been kind of rude. Thanks for helping me. I didn’t mean any disrespect, it’s just…” He seemed to struggle with what to say next.
“Hey, it’s cool, don’t worry about it.” I said, making a dismissive gesture. “What’s this safe place you mentioned?”
“There’s an abandoned textile mill about two miles down the road here. I’m one of thirty six survivors that have holed up there in an old warehouse. It’s defensible, there aren’t a lot of creeps around, and we have plenty of food. You’re more than welcome to come and stay with us.”
He looked up and I finally got a good look at his face. He had a thick brown beard, and obviously had not had a haircut in a long time. His hair was a shade lighter than his beard, and he had large brown eyes that would have looked effeminate if not for his broad nose and strong, square jaw. He was wearing army surplus battle fatigues and combat boots similar to mine. I could tell that he was a little taller than me, and probably had about forty pounds more muscle than I did. His neck was nearly as big around as his head, and he had big, thick hands with long fingers. His arms were significantly larger than mine, and they strained the fabric of his bush jacket.
“Actually, I’m headed north to try and find a friend of mine, but I don’t mind giving you a ride home. How did you come to be down in Alexis anyway? And by ‘creep’, do you mean one of the infected?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s what we’ve started calling them. My wife gets the credit for coining the term. To answer your first question, every week or so a few of us go out on trips to look for supplies. Two others went north to find food, and I volunteered to go south to Alexis.”
“Why go to Alexis alone? Why didn’t you go with the other two?”
“They’re after food, and I’m after ammo. I knew there was a gun store not far from the Burger King where you found me. The old man who ran the place was a survival nut, and kept a ton of guns and ammunition in a cellar under the building. We’re starting to run low on ammo at the compound, so I figured I’d get as much as I could and bring it back.”
“Judging by the mess I found you in, I’m guessing something went wrong.”
His expression darkened, and he nodded.
“I’d be happy to tell you about it once we get to the warehouse. I hate to be rude, but do you think we could get moving? I’d really like to get back. My wife is probably worried sick by now.” He said.
I looked around to see if any undead were approaching, and didn’t see any. That didn’t mean they weren’t nearby.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” I put the truck in gear and turned down the road to the right. We rode in silence until we got close to a service road with a dilapidated sign that read “ARCONN TEXTILES” in faded letters on a filthy, pitted white background.
“Turn in here, it’s around the other side of the factory.” He said.
I figured as much, but kept silent as I turned in. I followed the service road around the massive building that once housed a thriving business, and approached a wide, squat warehouse about fifty yards behind the factory.
The warehouse was large, but not as big as many I had seen. It was seventy or more yards long, and fifty yards wide. For all of its area, it was only about two stories tall, giving it a strangely squashed appearance. A large blue shipping container sat against the front of the building, and the top couple of feet of a steel garage door were visible above it. A wooden scaffold stood on the side of the warehouse nearest to us with a winding staircase that led to the building’s roof. I could see three people on top of it, one of them looking at us through the scope of a hunting rifle. I hoped he kept his finger off the trigger.
“Pull around the back, that’s where the entrance is.”
I did as he said, and stopped in front of a heavy steel door. My passenger got out and waved to the man on the roof with the hunting rifle. He lowered his weapon and waved back, then turned and made his way down the scaffold. I got out of the truck as my passenger walked around the truck toward the entrance. He stopped in front of me and held out a hand.
“I’m Ethan Thompson, by the way.” He said.
“Eric Riordan.” I shook his hand.
“And this is Bill Cooper.” He said, pointing to the man with the rifle walking toward us.
Bill looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, and wore the same kind of army surplus fatigues as Ethan. He was about five foot nine, medium build, and wore a flat brimmed straw hat that detracted from the military look his clothing suggested. His beard was mostly white, and he had bright, intelligent blue eyes that regarded me with mild suspicion. He stopped a few feet from me and looked at Ethan.
“You have a good hunt?” He asked.
I noticed that although his rifle was lowered, he held it in a way that allowed him to level it quickly if he needed to. I suddenly wished I had grabbed my pistol before getting out of the truck.
“Clear all the way.” Ethan replied.
I looked at him in confusion for a moment trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about, and then it dawned on me that they had just exchanged some kind of code. Bill slung his rifle over his shoulder and approached me with his hand out, smiling.
“Pleased to meet you sir. You’ll have to excuse the frosty reception, we don’t get many visitors here.”
“Yeah, looks like it.” I replied.
I glanced up to the roof of the warehouse and noticed the other two guards standing on the edge of the building watching us. Bill followed my line of sight and waved a hand at them.
“Go on now, you two can gossip later.” He shouted, smiling.
He had the thick, resonant southern accent common amongst older generations native to the region. The guards reluctantly turned away and went back to their patrols. Bill pushed his hat up from his eyes and regarded me for a moment.
“You don’t look too bad, son. Last folks that come around were mighty hungry looking.” He let the comment hang in the air.
“Yeah, well, my house is pretty isolated. I hunkered down and waited out the worst of the outbreak. I managed to stay fed by raiding abandoned houses, but pickings were getting pretty slim back my way.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, but I didn’t feel comfortable telling these people everything just yet. My grandmother, who grew up during the Great Depression, once told me that desperation makes demons of us all. I didn’t know how desperate these people might be, and it didn’t make sense to take chances.
“And where might your way be?” Bill asked.
“Just north of Charlotte, about twenty miles southwest of Lake Norman.”
Again, not a complete lie, but Bill seemed to sense that I wasn’t telling him everything.
“You run into any trouble on the way up here?”
I was getting a little tired of playing twenty questions with this old man. I had just rescued one of his friends, and wanted nothing more than to be on my way. I was about to say as much when Ethan defused the situation.
“Bill, you’re being rude. This man just saved my life, at great risk to his own, and asked for nothing in return. He’s got his own food and equipment, he’s not here for ours. He was just giving me a ride back to the compound.”
Bill glared at Ethan, but the younger man met his gaze with an even stare. Bill looked away first, glancing down for a moment, then looking back up at me. He seemed tired all of a sudden, and I could see the apology in his expression.
“I’m sorry if I seem rude. The last folks who came through tried to steal from us. It didn’t end very well, for them or for us. You look like you’re doing okay, so I guess you ain’t gonna try to steal from us. If you was the bad kind, I doubt you would have stopped to help a stranger.” He made a gesture toward Ethan, who had visibly relaxed.
“I reckon I better get back on watch, then. Don’t want Donna and Jake getting themselves in trouble.” Bill tipped his hat to Ethan and I, and ambled back over to the scaffold.
“Sorry about that.” Ethan said. “Bill is kind of the leader here. He took it hard when we lost a couple of folks not long ago. Been real serious about security ever since then.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Ethan frowned and shook his head.
“I’m not the best person to answer that question. I was on a supply run when it all went down. Why don’t you come inside, I’ll introduce you to some of the folks.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I really need to get going. I’m trying to get to a friend’s house before sundown.” I replied.
“Which way you headed? Me and the other scouts have ranged pretty far afield, maybe I can tell you where the trouble spots are. It’s the least I can offer, considering what you did for me today.”
I debated for a moment whether I should tell him or not. Gabriel wouldn’t want anyone knowing how to get to his cabin, but on the other hand, Ethan might have valuable information about the road ahead. He seemed like an honest enough guy, and he could just as easily have told Bill to put a bullet in my head and taken all of my stuff. I decided to trust him, for the time being. I motioned for Ethan to follow me and walked back over to the truck. I took my atlas out from the center console and opened it to the route I had marked out earlier in the day.
“I’m planning on heading this way north up to Morganton. You know of any trouble up that way?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah, a little bit.” Ethan said as he studied the map. He pointed to one of the towns along the route.
“The Army sent some troops out from Fort Bragg to set up a safe zone here at Iron Station, and here at the Lincolnton Regional Airport. Both were overrun. If you try driving through that way, you’ll never make it. The roads are choked with abandoned vehicles, and the place is swarming with creeps. You’re going to have to take back roads northeast past highway 73, all the way up to 150. From there you can cut back west and pick up your route just north of Bolger City.”
“Shit.” I swore. That would add several hours to the trip at the low speeds I would need to drive to ensure a safe journey.
“What about north and west of Bolger City? Any trouble out that way?” I asked.
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been north as far as 150, but I haven’t been near Bolger City since before the dead started walking. I can plot you a clear route to the highway, but I don’t know what you’ll be up against once you head back west. Sorry.”
I waved off his apology.
“No, you’ve been a big help. I’m glad I didn’t have to find out about Iron Station the hard way. At least now I have an idea of what I’m up against.”
I closed the atlas and tossed it back into the passenger seat. I leaned against the side of the truck and crossed my arms over my chest, sighing in frustration. Right then, my stomach decided to groan loudly, and I remembered that it had been nearly five hours since I had eaten last. Ethan heard it and chuckled.
“Listen, man, you saved my ass today and I owe you one. There’s no way you’re going to make it to Morganton before sundown. Why don’t you stay the night with us? We’ve got plenty of food, and my wife is a pretty good cook. The folks in the compound would be glad to hear some news from the outside. We even have a place to take a shower set up, warm water and everything. Trust me, you ain’t gonna find a nicer place to sleep anywhere within a day’s drive.” He said.
I thought about it for a minute, and realized he was right. I was hungry, and tired, and drenched with sweat from the day’s events. A warm meal, a shower, and a good night’s sleep sounded pretty appealing. Gabriel had waited this long, what was one more day?
“Yeah, what the hell.” I said. “I might as well get some rest. God knows what’s waiting for me between here and Morganton.”
I reached into the bed of the truck and started to pull out my sleeping bag and toiletry kit, but Ethan stopped me.
“Instead of lugging all this shit inside, how about I get a forklift and move that shipping container. You can just drive your truck in.” He said.
I shot him a suspicious glance.
“Why would I need to park my truck inside?” I asked.