Authors: D. Henbane
The radio clicked silent once again and Rednek pumped his fist in celebration. Haus snapped his fingers to get Redneks attention. “Do you even have 50 gallons moonshine?” Rednek chuckled as he patted Haus on the shoulder. “Woulda gave him 10 barrels had he asked.” Rednek replied.
“
That must be some high dollar whiskey.” Haus said.
“
How ya think I bought da farm? Got twenty or so barrels left in da cellar. That was me and Pop Eye's last run together. Held onto my share ever since. Sold a little every now and then.” Rednek said as he walked away.
Haus followed him until they reached the cellar door. Rednek slid the lock off the latch and swung the door open shining his kerosene lamp inside. The walls were lined with racks, each one housing an old oak whiskey barrel; the tops were marked with black burnt writing in the wood.
P.E.J
1983
Best Damn Bourbon
Note: The last recorded sale of a barrel of Pop Eye'd Joes bourbon from 1983 was auctioned off in 2005. The high bidder has remained anonymous, but speculation surrounding the sale point to a member of a prominent commercial distillery. It is believed it was purchased in an attempt to recreate the recipe. High bid was $147,000.
Chapter Thirty One
Playing with the Dead
Things had been awkward between Alex and Eve ever since that magical night in their old gym. Alex had hoped that things would change between the two of them, and things did change. Just not how he had imagined them. Eve was distant and cold, constant reminders that that night was fluke and will likely never happen again.
Alex had accepted her reaction, but was still determined that in the end she would come around. They were after all two people traveling around the country with no real destination, no plans for the future aside from staying alive.
A few nights ago Alex had brought up the idea of returning to Roca Segura, and he now knows that was a terrible idea. Eve hasn't said much since he brought it up and proceeded to explain all of the things she would rather do than spend another moment with his father. After the fifth over exaggerated and unpleasant thing, he simply told her, in poorly chosen words the conversation was over.
You made your fucking point.
Alex stepped out of the car, a few infected were staggering in the road up ahead, six of them, and slowly advancing towards the parked car. Each one of them were in late stages of infection, decayed, nearly blind, and relying on sound to find another victim.
Alex subconsciously counted, sized up each target, and arranged them in a kill order. He didn't have to even think about it, it was second nature, a testament to his years of training. He aimed his gun at the first target, a severally obese man, and it surprised him that he could even walk carrying all that weight. Then again the virus had a way of motivating people to do things, even if it brought about nothing more than pain.
Alex fired once, watched the fat mans head explode, and without hesitation fired at the second target. Eve didn't even flinch at the sound of gunfire anymore. She had become numb to it, as it was Alex’s favorite method of dispatching the waves of infected. She often wondered if Alex enjoyed killing them as if it was some kind of a sick game he played, and he wanted to get the highest score.
Eve knew that she didn't have the resolve to kill anything, even though Alex explained that they couldn't feel anymore and were no longer people. They couldn't feel emotions anyway, but he wasn't sure if they felt pain. To him it seemed they didn't because even losing limbs didn't seem to faze them.
Alex fired several more times, always mindful of how many rounds he had left, and ejected the clip to reload. He had made it a habit of always keeping his magazine fully loaded before moving on. Alex was about to get back into the car, when a feeling came across him, and he recalculated the numbers in his head.
That was only five rounds. I must be missing one.
He remembered counting six infected. Alex scanned the road one more time, but saw no movement. A single infected posed little threat, as he could easily run him over should he give chase, but he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling deep inside his chest.
Over the years Alex had learned to trust his instincts, and listen to his gut. It had saved his ass more than times than he could count. He often wondered if that was the secret to being a great soldier, some innate intangible gift, almost like a sixth sense. Right now that gift was telling him something was not right.
Where is the little fucker hiding?
Alex thought to himself as he walked out into the road, he walked past an overturned truck and out of Eves view. Eve grew uncomfortable and got out of the car, curious to see what had captured Alex's attention.
Eve turned to walk past the truck as she saw Alex kick one of the bodies, his gun held at a right angle to the sky. Alex moved forward to the next body, kicking it once, until he heard a sound coming from behind a white minivan.
Alex side stepped around right side of the van, this time with his gun held in both hands, pointed towards the ground and ready to draw aim and fire. Alex saw the body of a man lying just behind the van. He wore an unbuttoned red plaid shirt, a gray tshirt underneath, and khaki cargo pants. He must have been in his early twenties. His clothes were torn in several places, and covered in a rainbow of dried bodily fluids.
Alex had seen many casualties, both in peace and during war, and all of them had a certain patina to them. The patches of dirt, the faint outlines of perspiration, and the streamers of blood on their clothes. Speckled with droplets of blood and the limbs pocked with maroon and yellow bruises they acquired trying to escape.
The bodies he had seen since the outbreak were very different. They had a different patina, the face and hands were always saturated in smeared blood. The clothes carried the usual streamers of blood, along with distinct droplet patterns. This body however seemed odd to him.
The stains were blotchy and smeared, there were a few droplets of blood, but the majority of it looked as if someone had painted the corpse. Alex leaned closer to the face of the body, staring at it intently, as Eve came into view. Alex hovered over the body, his own face just a few inches above the corpse.
Eve motioned for Alex to come back towards her, but Alex did not move. Eve moved forward to drag him back by force, but Alex switched the gun to his left hand and aimed it directly at Eve. Eve stood still staring down the barrel of the gun, her eyes darting towards Alex and then back at the body.
Alex had been difficult to predict at times, but never had he aimed his weapon at her. Eve's heart began to race, and couldn't help but wonder if her recent treatment of him hadn't set him off somehow.
Alex would never harm me
. The words played over and over in her mind like a song stuck on a permanent loop.
Alex leaned forward; his nose almost touching the young mans face. Alex inhaled deeply, and exhaled through his nostrils, forcing the air out and letting it rest on the stranger's cheek. Much like a bulls snorts before it is ready to charge.
Eve felt like she was watching a slow motion replay. The blurred motion from the body, Alex jumping back, the scream of agony she heard. She fought back the instinct to run, then rushed forward only to take a few steps before the sound of the gun forced her to the ground.
Eve fell to the ground clutching her abdomen as she fell. She waited for the pain to come; nursing school had taught her that gunshot victims often don't know they have been shot due to the body going into immediate shock. She knew the pain would come soon enough, and would let her know where the injury was.
Hopefully not the intestines.
She thought to herself. She remembered watching her first patient die. He was a young black man, four bullet wounds to the lower abdomen, and bleeding that couldn't be stopped. They had tried desperately to save the young man's life but ultimately infection took hold and he went septic.
“
DONT FUCKING MOVE!” Eve heard Alex yelling from behind the van.
“
YOU FUCKING SHOT ME ALEX!” Eve screamed. Her voice so high-pitched, it sounded as if another woman’s voice was calling out.
“
I DIDN'T SHOOT YOU! THAT WAS A WARNING SHOT FOR THIS ASSHOLE!”Alex screamed back. Eve lifted her hands to her face, expecting to see them drenched in crimson red blood, but she saw that they were clean. Her body had tricked her and she fell out of instinct.
Eve stood up and ran towards Alex. Alex was sitting on the mans back, his gun pointed at the back of his skull while the other hand gripped the mans neck. It was then that Eve saw the mans eyes. Wide, dilated, scared out of his gourd blue eyes. Eve understood now what Alex had suspected during his little charade. The man wasn't infected.
“You got some explaining to do and I suggest you start talking before I start firing.” Alex barked out the orders like a very irate drill instructor. The man coughed out some saliva, inhaled to the best of his ability, considering Alex was still sitting on him.
“
Don't shoot man. I'm cool. Get off me and will tell you whatever you want to know.” Alex loosened his grip and stood to his feet, the gun still pointed down at the man. “Names Taylor.” He said as he sat up raised his hands to show he wasn't going to be a threat. “You can put the gun down bro.” Taylor said. Alex placed the gun into the holder behind his back.
“
What the hell are you doing out here?” Eve asked.
“
Same thing you guys are doing. Surviving.” Taylor flashed a smile and winked at Eve. Taylor shuffled his feet imitating the unsteady walk of the infected. “Should have won a damn award for my acting skills.” Taylor said. He carried about him an aura, the kind of essence that an overly optimistic person has.
“
Your idea of surviving is a bit twisted.” Eve scoffed and rolled her eyes. “How come they didn't attack you?” Eve asked. Taylor waved at his clothing with a sweeping gesture.
“
I look the part, play the part, and smell the part. They can't see very well so they never noticed my eyes.” Taylor said.
“
Pretty smart.” Alex said.
“
I know right? This guy gets it.” Taylor said as he flashed two thumbs up towards Alex. “So you guys got a car. Where we heading?”
“
Not so fast dickhead.” Alex said.
“
That ain't cool man. No reason to be calling people names.” Taylor said.
“
We can't just leave him out here.” Eve said. Alex shot Eve a look of disbelief.
“
Yes we can, looks like he was doing fine on his own.” Alex said.
“
Tell ya what. There is a trading post not too far from here. From what I heard the place is like Fort Knox and you can get whatever you want there. I heard about it from some guys in my last group, before we got jumped. If you give me a ride I can show you were it is. It would take me a week to get there on foot, but by car only a few hours.”
Alex wasn't excited about having a third wheel along, but if he could ditch him in a few hours it might be worth it. The idea of a trading post sounded appealing, but he was skeptic of whether it existed or not. “Alright you can come, but you have to change your clothes first. You smell like shit.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Chance Encounter
Haus stopped the motorcycle as the two armed men approached him. Both of them had rifles resting on their hips with the barrels pointed to sky. One held out his hand to signal Haus to stay still, while the other approached him on his left side.
“What's in the crate?” The guard asked.
“
Whiskey.” Haus replied.
“
What's your business here?”
“
Trade.” Haus said.
“
Mind if I take a look?” The guard asked.
“
Can't let you do that sir. I was told my buyer was to be the first one to open the crate. I was also told that if I was stopped by the guards to request to speak too... Hang on a second I got the note in my pocket.” Haus slowly reached into his side pocket and withdrew a small folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it, careful not to be too quick about it, and read the name scribbled on the page. “General McKinney. I was told he was expecting me.” The guards face turned from inquisitive smart ass to seriousness in a flash. The guard motioned for his partner with a rapid wave of his hand.
“Right this way sir. We will escort you to the Generals quarters.” Haus started the engine and drove slowly behind the armed guards. The crowd of people near the entrance parted like waves rolling away from the hull of a boat, re-converging back into a mass after he had passed by.
He felt the eyes of the people watching him from behind. Surely many of them wondered what was in the crate as well, and why it was being escorted by armed guards. On each side of him were many make shift shops set up, each one peddling an assortment of goods, and the smell of freshly cooked food filled the air.
Smoke from various camp fires drifted upward into the sky, and the sound of children playing made him feel as if the world was once again normal. He knew better than that, but even for a few moments it was nice to feel normal.
The walls surrounding the complex looked more like a modern prison than a trading post, and the constant presence of the many armed guards made it feel like one as well. In the center was a large steel building, with several generators lined up on the outside, each one running and spitting out diesel exhaust.
The building had an oversized garage door, the kind that are large enough to accommodate commercial trucks, opened and Haus drove inside. The door closed immediately behind him, and Haus was stunned to see the sheer size of some of the tarp covered objects. It was poorly lit inside, but he could clearly see the outline of a few military tanks.
There was a clearing near the center of the room. Two men sat at a table playing chess, and upon seeing Haus arrive stood up leaving the game suspended. Haus knew one of them must be the general, his dress uniform was a dead giveaway. The other man however reminded him of an eccentric mad scientist from old black and white horror movies.
The man wore a gray trench coat, circular glasses tinted almost black with thin wire frames, and a head of thick white hair that each strand seemed to shoot out in a random direction. His skin could have easily passed for an albino, and made the shiny leather gloves seem even darker.
Haus shut the engine off as the guard stopped to give a salute. The general saluted the men, and called for Haus to join them. “Please have a seat Mr. Haus.” The tone of the general's voice was welcoming and warm, but aged like a grandfathers.
Haus walked to the table as the guards unloaded the crate from the small motorcycle trailer. Haus turned and faced the strange man. “You must be the Apothecary.”
“
You are correct.” His voice sounded even more amazing than over the speakers of the radio. The apothecary rubbed his leather clad hands together excitedly. “Shall we take a look at what you have brought me?” The guards placed the crate on the ground and started to remove the lid.
“
Now you even got me excited old friend. I hope your not disappointed.” The general said. The guards finished removing the lid, and working together lifted the old oak barrel out. The apothecary quickly walked over to examine it.
He tapped on the side of the barrel with his knuckle, and let out a chuckle. He looked over the charred inscription on the lid and paused for several moments. He looked back over at the general, a wide smile creeping across his pale lips. He then retrieved a small hand operated drill from his jacket, bored a small hole in the top and placed a tap into the hole.
He then stepped over to the table and came back with a decorative glass decanter. “Boys if you would please tilt it for me?” The apothecary asked as he pointed at the guards. The guards carefully tilted the barrel to a forty five degree angle and the apothecary opened the tap.
Golden amber liquid poured out into the decanter until it was nearly full and he closed the tap. He capped it off, gave the bottle a good shake, noting the size and amount of the bubbles. “Everything looks splendid so far. Barrel is correct; inscription is spot on, its high proof, and now for the ultimate test!”
He opened a cooler, and using long surgical tongs placed five gray whiskey stones in a glass. He poured enough bourbon to barely cover the stones, swished it slightly and took a sip. He exhaled and shuttered slightly. “I have no idea how you acquired this fine specimen, but its legit and a deal is a deal.” The apothecary set his glass down just long enough to hand Haus a box that seemed too heavy for its size. “Ten thousand pills. 195 micrograms each. Take once daily. Store in a cool dark place. Should last your friend a little more than 27 years.”
***
The deal was done. Haus was ready to return with the much needed medication for Eicca, but there was another item that needed to be acquired. Haus felt terrible about how he handled the Amy situation. He knew now that she was only trying to help, but he had been callous with her. She hadn't spoke much after it happened and perhaps an apology and a gift might go a long way with setting things right.
Haus walked around the booths examining all the goods for sale or trade. There were household items, watches, jewelry, and hand crafted bedding. He stopped to ask a woman where he might find a fishing pole and she had pointed over to a portly woman around the corner.
He approached her booth and did a quick one over of her items. “How much for the fishing pole?” Haus asked.
“
I don't do paper money.” She said in a snide and raspy voice. She reminded him of what a lumberjack's wife must look like; thick leather like skin, large hands, and a crook nose.
“
How about this silver dollar?” Haus placed his beloved coin on the counter and waited for her reply. She looked it over for only a moment.
“
Got something else?” She said.
“
Sorry that's all I can spare.” Haus said as he reached forward to pick up his coin. The woman stopped him by placing her hand on the back of his. She traced small circles on his skin with her index finger.
“
Maybe we can work something out...” She let the words tapper off and Haus immediately felt like he was going to puke. The way her eyes were locked on him he knew she wasn't joking. She reached down inside his shirt and pulled his necklace out. “OOH! I like that.” She said as she smiled at him, and Haus noticed several of her teeth were missing.
Haus looked down at the mother pearl necklace hanging around his neck. He thought back to the night that Eve had given it to him. He wondered if she was still alive, and whether or not he might ever see her again. His daydream was cut short by the raspy voice of the old woman. “That necklace and the coin.”
Haus thought for a moment. This woman wanted the only two things he possessed that he had attachment too. Haus knew the odds of seeing Eve again were almost zero, and he had to rebuild his life on Redneks farm. That rebuilding process would take years, and those years would seem like an eternity with a pissed off farm girl. Haus took the necklace off, looked at the back of the cross, traced the EE initials carved into it with his finger and handed it over to the woman.
Haus strapped down the fishing pole to the trailer. He sat down on the bike, started the engine, and looked back at Nickajack trading post. He thought about returning and getting his stuff back, but decided against it. He let a sigh escape his lips and began to drive away.