The Death Trilogy (Book 1): The Death: Quarantine (13 page)

Reed looked and felt like the average small Midwestern town. It wasn’t just a town, it was the county seat, and therefore the wheels of local government functioned out of it.

Devin was willing to discuss what he knew with anyone, specifically if the result was to save Tess and others.

Daryl had put him in a Ford F-150 truck and took him straight to the central court building. There Mayor Thomas Rivers worked and could be found most of the time.

Many towns and all the cities fell to The Death and became hubs of chaos and civil unrest. Reed didn’t have that fate. Mayor Rivers quickly determined that the only way to keep the town’s remaining population of one hundred and fifteen people from going after each other was to rule it like a dictator. The actions he took had been controversial at first, but many fell in line. Daryl had stopped coming into town months ago for two reasons. He didn’t want one thing to do with Rivers’ tyrannical power play, and he wasn’t well liked.

After arguing with the small army of townsfolk who now guarded the mayor, Daryl managed to make it through to see the man. Once inside his office, he walked up to his desk and barked, “Mayor, we got a problem!”

“Daryl Jenks, to what do I owe this random visit?” Rivers asked from behind his large mahogany desk. Mayor Rivers was a small man, not standing more than five foot six inches, but if you were to only hear his booming voice, you’d swear he was six foot six. To add to his small stature he had lost most of his hair and now sported a shaved head.

“Mayor, this man was in Lovington three days ago. He and his small group barely made it out alive. They fled in fear because Turner’s Raiders showed up and began to terrorize the town.”

“Is this true?” Rivers asked Devin.

“It’s all true, sir.”

“What are we going to do?” Daryl asked.

“Do we know if they’re heading here?” Rivers asked both men.

Devin answered right away, “I don’t know where they’re going. I was in Lovington; they came into town with a small army, took over, and began to do what they do. My companions and I left within a couple hours of their arrival.”

“Tom, because we don’t know is the exact reason why you need to prepare the town defenses,” Daryl stressed.

Rivers sat back and swiveled in his chair, his mind deep in thought.

“I plan on defending my property, but I felt I had an obligation to give you a warning,” Daryl said.

“Daryl, I have to laugh at you,” Rivers said, then turned to Devin. “You see this guy here? He’s the biggest prepper slash survivalist in these parts. After the virus came through, some of the town folk came to ask him for support. What did he do? He welcomed them with his shotgun not open arms.”

“I’ve seen that shotgun,” Devin cracked.

“What was I suppose to do? Why was it my responsibility to take care of those who didn’t prepare, some of whom mocked me before. I always knew something would happen, so I prepared for it. I spent my own hard-earned money on making my property self-sufficient and stockpiling. If you want to keep tearing off an old scab, then fuck it and fuck you.”

“See, now there’s the old grouchy Daryl Jenks I know. So, here you are again, coming into town telling us that we need to do what you suggest. Listen, our defenses have never been better, and I now have a small army of my own. If Turner and his Raiders get within a day of here, I’ll know, and we’ll figure out then what we’ll do. There’s a lot of countryside between here and Lovington, so there’s no telling where they’ll go next.”

“Always so smug,” Daryl quipped.

“What you call smug I call know-how.”

“I call an idiot.”

Devin watched this back and forth with amazement.

“If you’re done insulting people, you can take your rude self out of my office. Go defend your little bunker and just hope Turner’s men don’t come knocking because you’ll get no help from the Town of Reed.”

“I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought we could finally find common ground to help one another,” Daryl exclaimed.

“That’s not it, Daryl, you finally realized that the lone wolf can’t survive and have come here for my help. Well, you’re not going to get it, now see yourself out,” Rivers said, motioning to the large wood door.

Daryl snarled and stormed out with Devin close behind.

Empty-handed, Daryl and Devin left the mayor’s office.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Devin asked.

“Sure.”

Both men were sitting in the cab of the truck parked out front of city hall.

“There’s obviously some past history here, so what happened between you and the townspeople after The Death swept through.”

“What didn’t happen? God, humans are such an interesting lot, always full of BS stories and self lies to get by each day, or at least that’s how it was before. In town before everything happened I was given the moniker of the ‘doomsday guy’ because I prepped and stressed to the town leadership to do the same. I’d go to town hall meetings and press upon the mayor, city council and county commissioners to work as a town to prepare for something like this. I asked them to stockpile simple supplies like food, water and medical supplies. Needless to say, I was mocked; the town found it more important to buy pretty banners for each season and holiday to ‘beautify’ the town as well as flowers and planter boxes to line the streets. Now look at them, worthless garbage. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem making things look nice, it’s just how you prioritize things. They got it wrong because they thought that nothing would ever happen, and if it did, they thought the government would come to the rescue. You know, some idiots actually took off for one of those FEMA camps. Needless to say, we’ve never heard from them again.”

Devin sat quietly listening to Daryl; he could tell the little speech had been well rehearsed. He didn’t want to give any input for two reasons: one, he was one of those idiots who never prepared, and two, his input was useless. He felt Daryl only wanted to be heard and wasn’t looking for a real solution or compromise.

Daryl sat with his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel as his thoughts replayed the earlier events that had isolated him from the town.

“What happened? The mayor made it sound like something happened,” Devin pressed.

“Oh, some survivors, envious because my entire family survived, came sniffing around thinking I had some type of cure. I told them I didn’t. Hell, no one has a cure for this damn thing. If the president of the United States can get sick and die from this, I can’t imagine who has some way to prevent from getting this shit,” Daryl answered and paused as his memory went back to that moment. “They kept telling me to give them a cure. Let’s just say it went sideways and got violent. One of them broke into my house, and I shot them, killed them. I had no choice, you see. I didn’t want to kill anyone. It never was my intention, but they broke in, threatened me and my family. What would you have done?”

Devin didn’t have to think about his answer. If someone would have asked him seven months ago, his answer would have been long and nuanced, but not now. “I would have done the same thing. Shot them, period.”

Daryl looked at Devin and smiled, feeling happy that this stranger agreed with his actions.

Devin had the answer he was looking for. Daryl had been the ready one, and those who weren’t came looking to him to help. He didn’t and, bam, conflict. Typical human nature. There was something else that Devin wanted to know, though. “Who are these Raiders?"

Daryl shifted in his seat, stared at Devin and said, “They are some very bad people.”

“I know that. Who are they? Who is Turner?”

“Matt Turner is the man behind Turner’s Raiders, but he’s also the man behind the Ozark Republic. The Raiders are essentially his army. They go from town to town taking what they want. Turner claims he’s liberating survivors and has even targeted regional FEMA camps. At first what he was doing sounded great to some, he brought a welcome certainty to uncertain times, but things changed.”

“I’m sorry, but the Ozark Republic, what is that?” Devin asked.

“It’s Matt Turner’s country.”

“Country?” Devin asked in a mocking tone.

“Hey, don’t look at me that way; I’m not supporting it, just stating the facts as I know them. Some guy named Matt Turner comes out of the ashes of this mess, gets a following that turns into an army, and proclaims the land he controls is now his country.”

“So what are the boundaries of this Ozark Republic?”

“I don’t really know, but I’ve heard reports from passersby that it encompasses Missouri, parts of Kansas, Arkansas and Illinois. What’s odd is some people even claim Turner is dead and his second in command is still using the name, hence why the change in tactics.”

“Oh my God, that’s crazy. I had no idea this was going on.”

“It’s one theory after another around here. Some are total out-on-a-limb crazy loony tunes conspiracy theories too.”

“Let me guess, about the origins of the virus?” Devin put forth.

“You got it. Everyone has their theories; me, I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter. I knew one day the shit would hit the fan, and here we are, two strangers talking about crazy people like Matt Turner, most of the world is dead, and we’re concerned about a rogue army coming through town. Imagine the looks people would have given me if I told them this was going to happen.”

Devin chuckled at the irony put forth by Daryl, but it was true. If someone would have sat him down and laid out exactly the events as they happened, he would have told them to go fuck off.

“Have you heard of other groups?”

“Yeah, there’s rumors the northwest has split off and factions back East are causing trouble, but what’s noticeable is the absence of the federal government in all of this.”

“I was about to say, besides the FEMA camps, where is the Army, the Marines?”

“Some say they’re all dead too and things just fell apart, but another rumor is they’re all in Colorado, up in the mountains, protecting the elite.”

Exhausted by the theories, Devin relaxed into the seat. In some ways it didn’t matter where everyone was now, because if they hadn’t come to help before, they weren’t coming now, especially if they needed it from Turner’s Raiders.

“So, what are your plans?” Daryl asked.

“Like I said, get my friend patched up and we’re off, out of your hair.”

“I hope you understand that my pointing a gun at you earlier wasn’t personal. I just don’t like strangers coming to my door.”

“No need to apologize, I understand. I did the same thing when Tess showed up at my door.”

“Ha, really? I don’t feel bad now. Listen, let’s get back and see how’s she’s doing.”

“Sure.”

Daryl started the truck, and they pulled out and headed out of town.

As they passed a storefront, Devin saw a few townspeople. The stern looks on their faces told him everything; there was not a lot of love for Daryl. Devin had the innate ability to understand both sides of situations. This worked for him before, but those were different times. It was apparent that Daryl was prepared and the others weren’t. In this world, taking the side of those who had resources seemed like the safe bet, at least as long as surviving this was part of his plan.

Needing some private time, Devin took refuge on the back deck. The evening sunset and cool breeze eased his mind enough to start to think about his next move. As he sat rocking in the old wood rocker, he examined the grounds behind the house. Calling it a yard was an exaggeration; it was more like a garden with small sheds surrounding it and a greenhouse at the far end. Next to the greenhouse sat a chicken coop, and by the sounds coming from it, Devin imagined it housed a decent number of chickens. As his eyes completed the inventory, he saw something that was becoming commonplace for survivors, a graveyard much like he and Tess had made for his cousins in Decatur. Seeing this brought him back to his time there and to Cassidy.
The old phrase that time heals all wounds isn’t true
, he thought as the pain of losing her and not getting a chance to see her one last time always ached in his chest. Again, the images he saw splashed on every television were seared into his mind.

The screen door creaked, breaking Devin’s somber thoughts. He looked over and saw Daryl holding a bottle and two glasses.

“You drink?” Daryl asked.

“Does the pope wear a pointy hat?”

Daryl lumbered over and sat in the rocker next to Devin, pulled the top off the bottle of whiskey, and poured a couple ounces into each glass.

“Here,” Daryl said, handing Devin the glass.

“Thanks, what is it?”

“Templeton Rye whiskey, it’s the best stuff,” Daryl answered as he held the glass out.

“Cheers,” Devin answered as he tapped his glass against Daryl’s.

Daryl sat back and took a large sip and muttered his pleasure in the drink.

Devin followed suit and tipped his glass back. The warm whiskey hit his lips, then his tongue and flowed down his throat. He wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker before, but nowadays he wasn’t one to be picky.

“Let me guess, you have cases of this stuff?” Devin asked.

“Using your charm, I’ll just say, does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Ha, it’s good, I’ll tell you that.”

“Damn right, it’s good stuff.”

Both men relaxed into their seats, enjoying the whiskey without a word coming between them.

Devin thought Daryl’s behavior was odd in retrospect compared to how he acted upon their arrival. Maybe he was enjoying the company, as it appeared he had no friends in town.

“How long you lived here?” Devin asked.

“About forty years, I was born and raised here.”

“Same house?”

“No, I grew up about three miles from here.”

Out of habit Devin asked, “Your parents still around?”

“That’s them back there with my oldest. They didn’t make it,” Daryl answered, pointing towards the graveyard.

Devin felt bad about asking.

“Your lady friend is doing much better. My wife and her are like two long-lost friends back there,” Daryl said.

“Tess is awake?”