The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where (15 page)

He seemed unfazed. “I had firepower superiority to them. They were five; we were more than a dozen back then. I sent them your way as interest on that Luke woman’s debt. Anyone get killed?”

Not yet, Matt. But I’m thinking about it
. I shook my head, signaling no.

“Then no harm,” the bastard said with a smile. I thought for a moment that he was going to offer me a handshake.

“So why exactly are you here today?” Susan asked from beside me. Her tone was as icy as the most brutal winter day.

“We need some supplies,” I answered, staring more at my hands than anywhere else. “Some medicine.”

“Prescription?” he asked.

“No, over the counter stuff.”

“And you have trade? Decent trade?”

I nodded.

“Advil, Motrin, Tylenol, Bayer aspirin…that we have,” Matt answered, rocking in his leather chair. Each rock made a squeak. Each squeak became slower and more drawn out.

“I need pre-natal vitamins as well,” I added, “if you got them.”

Reaching to his right, his picked up a clipboard. Flipping pages two or three at a time, he finally slowed and ran a finger down the lined paper. “I might be able to spare some. You better have mighty good shit for me.”

I sat taller in my chair, readying for my final plea. “I need some food too. Any canned or jarred fruits or vegetables you might have.”

He laughed in a small fashion, glancing at his wife. “You’re not getting food from me, Bob. Quite honestly,” he leaned closer to me, “we don’t have enough to share. Hell, we may need to kick out a dozen people or so before the snow melts just to be sure we’re fed.”

It was disappointing news, but not unexpected. “How many people you got left now?” I figured we were friendly enough by that point for a simple question.

“Forty-two,” he answered quickly.

“Thirty-eight,” his wife countered. “Four more dead this week. Three by starvation and exposure, one by suicide.”

A village that was once home to 500 folks had been reduced to 38 poor souls. That meant the attrition rate was more than 90 percent. That was just one small village; a well-stocked village just three years ago.

“So let’s see what you got for me,” Weston stated in a dry voice. “I ain’t got all day.”

I plopped the 12-gauge shells on his desk, opening the bag.

“Ten full boxes,” I said confidently. “Two hundred rounds of the most popular gauge in North America.”

He seemed impressed, nodding at the ammunition.

“Excellent,” he replied. His eyes drifted first to his wife, and then back me. “That’ll get you about five pills, your choice. I am nothing if not a reasonable man.”

Well that didn’t go as planned. I hoisted the other bag, letting it slam on the desk. “Two hundred rounds of 45 caliber. Same as I gave you before.”

His lips tightened, reaching for the bullets. Shaking the box by his head, he glanced back at me. “I’ll have one of my men check these to be sure they’re all real. I’d say you got 20 pills coming now. How does that sound?”

I grimaced, unhappy with my trading skills. “I need something closer to five full containers. Matter of life and death, kind of.”

Giving the offered deal a shrill whistle, he sat back in his chair. “You want that much, I recommend you fetch me one of those thousand pounds steers that Wilson fellow grows. He lives down by you, about five miles east.”

“I don’t have anything to trade him for that,” I admitted, hoping he might take mercy on my plight. Though it didn’t look good.

“Not my problem,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll have Susan fetch you 20 pills. Tylenol okay?”

I heard her rise as I gripped the arms of the chair tightly. “Wait,” I whispered. My eyes rose to his. “I have more. Something that’s worth everything I’ve asked for.”

His grin grew. I could sense he believed he had the upper hand. I hoped his pride, and a touch of arrogance, worked in my favor.

“I doubt it very much, Bob,” he replied, breaking into a laugh. “But hell, I’m in a good mood today. So try me.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips.
This had better work. It was our last chance.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

When I came back into the room, Daisy followed behind, in her arms Libby laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. The Westons were locked in a quiet conversation and failed to look when we entered. They had a surprise coming.

She noticed first. I watched as Susan Weston gave us a glance, turned back to her husband, and then stopped, mid-sentence. Slowly her head came back to us, and even slower, it moved from side to side.

Matt himself gave my guest a polite smile and glanced away. His eyes fluttered several times as I assumed he tried to recall the face, maybe even the child. Narrowed, they came back to the pair, Libby hiding her face in her mother’s nape.

Susan rose, scowling first at me, then at my guests. “Oh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you, Bob?”

I’m sure she didn’t expect an answer; it was fate after all that arranged this reunion.

She thrust a finger at Daisy. “And you,” she spewed, “I ought to have you skinned right now. I can’t believe you and that mangy bastard of yours are still alive.”

Rising abruptly, Matt moved beside his wife. “Now, darling,” he said in a soft tone, “let’s not be angry with our guests.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It is what it is.”

“Hello, Matt,” Daisy answered with confidence. “Susan.” She nodded at the fire-eyed woman. “This is Libby.”

We stood in silence. I stared at Matt, he stared at his wife. Susan maintained eye contact with Daisy. And no one had a clever response.

Libby broke the hush. “Who are these people, Momma?”

I glanced back and noticed Daisy’s uneasy look. She didn’t feel any better about this than I did.

“Libby, say hello to your father,” Daisy answered.

“Hello, Father,” the girl replied in a bored way. “Nice to meet you.”

Matt’s feelings weren’t immediately apparent. Either he was focused on his wife, or he didn’t dare make eye contact with Libby. Perhaps it was because he might explode with emotion. Or maybe he didn’t dare betray his wife. I was sure it was the later, not the former.

When he finally looked at her, his eyes seemed almost angry. “Hello Libby,” he answered barely above a whisper. “It nice to see you again. You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you.”

“Isn’t this sweet,” Susan mocked. “Father and daughter together again — with Father’s whore.”

Matt raised a hand to his wife. “Don’t…just don’t, Susan,” he said. I thought he might beg, but what he said sounded more like an order. “You’re my wife, not Daisy. It’s you I love, not her. She’s not the competition, she’s…”

He couldn’t find the right word.

“The mistake,” Susan added sharply. “And we agreed, a very long time ago, that she was never to be part of your life again.” Susan glared at Daisy. “We don’t even know if this is Matt’s child. I mean you never were able to prove it was his.”

I saw Daisy lick her lips before replying. Was that a small grin? “You mean I never got the chance,” she rebutted. “I couldn’t afford any help to prove it. And Matt sure didn’t offer any on his part.”

“What exactly do you want?” Susan demanded, reaching for and taking her husband’s hand. “There’s nothing here for you.”

“We need medicine,” Daisy instructed. “But you were already told that.”

Lowering Libby to the ground, she took the child’s hand. “Matt wanted to help, wanted to stay in touch. But his wife wouldn’t have that. Not with her rich family and all. Just wouldn’t look right, would it?”

Susan’s eyes locked on Daisy, Matt’s on the little girl — his daughter.

Daisy moved several small paces towards the two. “But money don’t mean anything anymore. People like you,” she motioned to Susan with her head, “need food and shelter every bit as much as people like me. We’ve become equals in all of this.

“If you don’t want to give us a fair trade for what we brought, I have a deal for you.” Her eyes snapped between the two. “You can spend an hour with your daughter, for the last time ever, Matt. We’ll all sit down together, and you and Libby can become acquainted.”

Susan’s lips snarled at the edges before she laugh let loose. “You’re joking,” she raged. “You think an hour with a little girl, who may not even be his child, gets you anything. Aside from what you deserve, that is.” She turned to her husband, his face still showing no emotion. “You agree with me darling, don’t you?”

Something in the way the woman made her request caught my attention. She wasn’t asking, or demanding; she was begging. I saw it on their faces; the desperation the scene held — for both.

“Three hours,” he replied.

 
I noticed the shudder roll through Susan’s being. She was losing, and she wasn’t used to it. But it wasn’t just this moment. No, it was years in the making. Something she prayed she’d never have to face, especially in the apocalypse — the other woman.

“Two,” Daisy replied, leading Libby to the couple. “Libby, why don’t you, Matt, and Susan go over on that nice comfy couch over there and you can tell them the story of the lion and the bear you made up? That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

The small child extended her hands and took the reluctant pair into her heart. Susan looked horrified. I thought I noticed Matt chase away a tear or two. Leading them to the couch, Libby popped up between them.

“Once upon a time…” Libby began, giving each of them a sweet smile.

Susan wasn’t happy, her stiff posture and sour expression showed it well. But her husband was, and that’s all that mattered, for the moment.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

Daisy and I paced in the anteroom as Father and Daughter sang nursery rhymes together. Even Step-mom had hugged and kissed the little girl before we excused ourselves from view.

Halting my steps, I reached for Daisy’s hand. “You were amazing in there. You saw the situation for what it was, and acted with magnificence. How did you know it would work?”

She glanced up at me with a tense expression. “I had talked with Matt just a few weeks before all this happened. He said he’d do anything to spend a little more time with Libby. It was just his wife wouldn’t allow it; her family wouldn’t allow it. And he was well-off only because of her family’s money.”

I nodded. “So the apocalypse comes and levels the playing field.”

“Like I said,” she continued, squeezing my hands. “Money don’t matter no more, people do though.”

“How do you know Susan won’t hurt Libby? Or maybe they’ll try and steal her?”

She shook away my concerns. “First off, she can’t hurt Libby. She’s a part of Matt just like his wife. She knows that. And she’d never want Libby around full-time. That’d be too great of a reminder of me. And she hates me with a passion.”

“Never have truer words been spoken,” a voice from behind us announced. Susan. Somehow she had snuck into the room unnoticed.

I noticed her wry smile as she stepped forward and squeezed between us. Facing Daisy, her hands took the place of mine.

“I’m sending a woman right now to retrieve five bottles of pain relievers from our stock. And two bottles of prenatal vitamins.” She reached and stroked a wild strand of hair away from Daisy’s face.

“I’d love to have her bring me a big knife as well,” Susan continued in a softy tone. “I’d like to take that knife and slice you open with it. When the pain became too great, I’d cut your head off and stick it on the mantle over the fireplace. I’d have your body thrown into the woods for the wolves, bears, and coyotes to feast upon.” She patted Daisy’s face softly. “But that wouldn’t be very nice of me, would it now? Treating Matt’s slut so poorly.”

“I don’t want your husband, Mrs. Weston,” Daisy answered forcefully. “I just want to help my people.”

“And you’ve done such a wonderful job, my dear.” Susan snuck a quick peek at me. “Look at you, you’re skin and bones. There’s nothing feminine left of you. You have the appearance of a ten-year-old boy. Matt would never be interested in you again; I have no worries about that.”

“What’s your problem then, lady?” I asked, feeling the insults thrust at Daisy.

“You’ve turned another girl into a whore,” Susan stated, her tone still soft, yet condescending. “Just like you, you trained her to spread her legs and give up the only thing she had left. And now you come to us, begging for help.” She nodded. “There is a God, and today has proven that.”

Rather than argue with a lunatic, I remained quiet. Daisy chose the same.

“I hope you all die painful deaths in the near future,” Susan resumed, in her quiet wrath. “I hope you’re still alive at the end, Daisy. Just so you can watch them all die first. And I hope you have the strength to linger and suffer as long as you can.”

Daisy and the evil one exchanged a tight stare. And it felt like it lasted for hours.

“Thank you for the medicine and the vitamins,” Daisy finally replied in a tight but civil tone. “We all appreciate that.”

Susan released her and strolled to the door. “You’ll all be dead soon. It’s an empty gesture on Matt’s part. I’m just trying to be sure his happiness continues. He’s having a good time with your little girl…his little girl.”

She opened the door and paused. “We’ll be having dinner soon,” she said politely. “I’ll send someone for you when it’s ready. And afterwards,” she glared directly at me, “please take your woman and her bastard and go back to where you came from. And don’t ever think of coming here again, ever.”

She smiled, nodded, and thankfully, left us alone.

Daisy wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest.

“Well, she’s as pleasant as I remember,” I said in jest.

I felt her head nod. “Yep. Pretty much the same as I remembered her. But we’re getting our stuff. That’s really all that matters, right?”

Nodding mostly to myself, I wondered about our end game. We traded for medicine we desperately needed. But why did Susan Weston sound so sure we’d all be dead soon? She stated it like a fact, not a demented wish. Why?

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

Entertaining the table at dinner, Libby twirled the limp green beans around her fork tines. I checked everyone’s faces to be sure all was still good. Matt seemed genially happy to have his daughter in his presence. Daisy put on her bravest face and smiled graciously as often as possible. Even Susan acted as if she were entertained. But I think we all knew better.