The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where (7 page)

That was expected if the Reverend Joseph Smith was to be believed. He reported to me that any urban area was susceptible to such a plague. The fever, as most called it, was either the flu or some type of airborne illness laying ruin to what mankind had worked so hard to build.

“Why haven’t we had this fever yet?” I asked, glancing at Marge for her input.

At first she shrugged, followed by a sigh. “Well, there’s very few of us for starters. Add to that, we’re reasonably well fed. The same can’t be said for any nearby cities.”

“Food and medicine are all but gone out there,” Lettie added, waving her thin frail arms at the trees. “What doctors are left can’t help much without modern medicine. It’s taken a year, a little more actually, but now we see just how vulnerable mankind was to something like this. No one knows how to do anything anymore. All that people did was use, not create.”

Lettie’s words were the honest truth. I was the prime example. At first, hunting was foreign to me. If Marge’s husband hadn’t gutted my first deer I might have still been there trying to figure the process out. And it seemed as if very few knew much about gardening. In addition, almost no one knew about heirloom seeds. At least not with the type of knowledge Lettie had.

“Stuart Callies is dead,” I told my group. Yet no one looked shocked.

 
“So we heard,” Dizzy answered. “That Prophet guy stopped by here for a meal on his way through and told us all about it.”

We sat quietly as a pair of cardinals chased back and forth between the pines on one side of the yard and then the other. They still had food, they managed to survive. In all honesty, they were fine. But were we?

“What happens if that Weston man and his wife come looking for food here?” Though I would have thought Lettie would have asked that particular question, if was actually Violet’s concern.
 

“We need to know what kind of force they have left,” I answered, making sure I sounded confident. Whether I actually did was a different story.

“You want to go see?” Marge asked, her tone as skeptical as I felt.

Shaking my head, I chuckled. “No way. If I never see that Weston woman again, I’ll be just fine.”

“Susan Weston wanted to kill us,” Violet added, though I didn’t need reminding. Her not so veiled threats to us last summer still burned in my memory.

“Maybe she’s dead too,” I added, letting hope take over, even though I knew better.

“According to old man Wilson,” Dizzy interjected, “Susan and her husband made it through the winter and spring just fine. Only her brother, that Callies fellow, died. Well, that and most of their army.”

“We’re going to have to watch the road,” Lettie warned, pushing off the lawn chair and heading for the house. She sounded depressed, not as hopeful as she always had in the past.

“What’s up with her?” I asked Marge and Dizzy.

Marge rose to chase after the woman while Dizzy took the chair next to mine, away from Violet.

“Lettie ran out of smokes this spring,” he informed. “About the same time you got shot. Claims life isn’t the same without cigarettes.”

I grinned at my friend. “You gave them up just fine.”

Scratching at his hair, Dizzy leaned back in his chair. “Well, that’s because Marge made me. Said she wouldn’t kiss a man that smoked. So I gave them up.” He sounded confident and pleased with himself.

I heard Violet huff and then get up from her spot. “That’s because he’s gross,” she said, jabbing a finger Dizzy’s direction. “And he’s a coward.” With her harsh words spent, she followed her mother into the house.

I peeked at Dizzy sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She still ain’t taken much of a liking to me.” He smiled and slapped his legs. “At least she talks to me now, sometimes. All last winter she hardly said a word to me. So I think I’m making progress.”

Dizzy rose from his chair and meandered back in Nate’s direction. My eyes moved to the highway, some 40 feet away.

Trouble was coming, I felt. And the road would bring it. We needed to watch the road, closely.

Year 3 - early summer - WOP

I toyed with an idea for a while. It wasn’t a plan, more of a plan for a plan. While it wasn’t good, or very clear, I still considered it daily.

Violet had once asked me what I was going to do for female companionship here in No Where. I told her I didn’t need any. However, that as a lie, a huge lie.

Maybe at first I didn’t see the need. That was because I was leaving, or planning to leave. Why would I put the time and effort into getting to know someone when I’d be back with Shelly soon? I had a wife, and a family. I just needed to get back to them.

Lettie,
 
Marge, Dizzy, Violet, and Nate helped fill the void of my missing family. And to be quite honest, they kept me alive. And in more ways than just Marge and Violet constantly patching up my gun wounds.

But with Dizzy and Marge now connected at the hip, I had no one.
 

Dizzy and I had spent countless hours together. We were, in all but blood, brothers. Marge’s relationship with him put all but an end to our carefree days of hunting, fishing, and general goofing around.

At one point, before the couple was a couple, I had considered Marge a possible mate. Though she was 15 years my elder, she offered a lot of what I missed. A loving touch, occasional sweet words, and the companionship I had previously with my own wife.

Dizzy and Marge together made sense. They were the same age and Dizzy had no expectations of a female companion. Add to that he followed her around like a puppy and answered most requests with “yes, dear” and some sort of kiss on the cheek. Hell, I would have practically dated the man.

Violet was off-limits completely in my mind. Even if we waited another five years, she would still be immature, moody, spiteful, and a much younger lady to me. She was the little sister I never had. She was like a younger cousin who spoke her mind freely with me, and allowed me to do the same in return.

There were no other known eligible women in our area. The few neighbors Dizzy spoke of weren’t appealing. Most of these local gals were tougher than me. Not to mention that most had husbands. And none needed what I had to offer, which was very little.

The one time I dared to examine my wound closely, on the mirror behind the bedroom door, I gasped at what I found. Not so much the wound as the man staring back.

I might have been about 210
 
pounds when I first arrived in No Where. I remembered I was fit; hell, one hundred and twenty dollars a month for a gym membership wasn’t wasted on me. However, the man I found, some three weeks back, was nothing like the man I remembered.

Most, if not all of my muscle mass, had atrophied. My pants were held up with a belt that had to have another hole punched in it on a monthly basis. What I could see of my face, through my hair and beard, was thin and gaunt. I wasn’t ugly, but I certainly wasn’t handsome. I doubted even my own mother, much less Shelly, would recognize the body that stole my soul.

I was never getting back to Chicago and home. Certainly not before this coming winter. Once I believed I needed to put on a good 20 pounds before I could risk it. Nowadays that number was closer to 50, or even 60 pounds. That wasn’t something I could do before the first white days crept back in.

Another winter alone and I’d have no mind left. It was brutal logic, but the truth. There was no way I’d move in down at Lettie’s. That I had decided was just stubbornness. But it was my choice and my stubbornness. And the only possible person from there that would winter at my place was unimaginable to me. I’d kill her if she didn’t kill me first.

I was doomed, and I was okay with that. That too would pass. As would I.

Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

“The road will bring trouble.” — Lettie Hamshire

“If you’re not going to leave, can you at least try and not die yet?” — Violet Luke

“I will watch the road… and still fail somehow.” My admission to myself.

I held the Glock to my head, unloaded of course. Though I tried again to pull the stubborn trigger, I couldn’t. Even though I knew the gun as empty, my finger wouldn’t close the deal.

Setting the weapon on the counter, I considered my cowardice. I wasn’t ready to do the deed, not yet. That would come in the middle of winter. When the snows piled up and I knew no one would find me for weeks, maybe months. I had also decided I’d leave the front door open. That way my forest friends, “pets” as Violet called them, would clean up whatever mess was left.

I wasn’t leaving anyone; I was relieving myself of the never-ending loneliness and torture the winter would bring, and the next one after that would bring, and the next decade even.

But even on the trial run, several runs, I was still unable to pull the trigger of an empty gun.

I was going to die here, one way or another. I wanted my death, the time and events, to be my choice.

All I lacked was courage, but that’s something I’d never have. I just didn’t know it at the time…or her.

My helper worked and talked at different paces. In my past life, it would have upset me. Here in No Where, I enjoyed the entertainment.

“Mom says she’s gonna feed Violet to the wolves if she don’t quit sneaking off,” Nate said. His high-pitched voice made it sound as if he were reporting something exciting, which this sort of was in a place where nothing ever happened.

“One day,” he continued as he stacked split wood in criss-cross piles, “she says she’s gonna lock her in her room until she’s 30. The next day, she wants to boot her out. Lettie won’t let her, of course.”

Nate’s usual jovial mood, and finding delight in his sister’s tormented life, made me smile. Leave it to a nine-year-old to brighten my day.

“Is she still seeing those Wilson twins?” I asked, unafraid of him judging me for being too interested in the subject. The fight at Lettie’s had been brewing for a while.

“Yep,” he answered, cutting a piece of wood towards the small pile off to the side. “Violet’s supposed to be weeding the garden, and instead, she sneaks off. Violet’s supposed to be watering the garden, she sneaks off. She’s supposed to be kicking the soccer ball with me, she sneaks off.” He gazed up at me, perhaps for wisdom. “Maybe if Mom tied her to a stake she wouldn’t sneak off. Ever thought of that?”

I all out laughed, checking the road from the north. I loved his stories, but I needed to keep an eye open for any impending danger.

With Covington low on food, most likely all out by now, trouble could show up at any time. Lettie told me she had her 30-30 loaded and within arms reach at all times since my excursion late last summer. If they came, they’d receive a wall of bullets from that tough old bird.

I didn’t think I’d be able to hear shooting from three miles away. I wasn’t worried so much about Lettie losing the war; I just wanted fair warning when the remnants of their gang showed up. Between her, Dizzy, and Marge they had enough firepower to move a dozen or so down the road. Unfortunately, the road fed directly to my place.

Glancing at the bench, I noted my Glock well within reaching range if I needed it. The resting spot was necessary because I couldn’t have it on me while cutting wood. If it were winter, I’d have a free pocket. But not in summer when all I wore most days was a pair of socks and shoes, and some old green NMU gym shorts Lettie had given me.

I grabbed an armload of the split wood and headed for the back end of my place. Nate did his usual, stacking more in neat piles so it made my job of hauling easier. He was still young, after all; a fact he reminded me of many times each day, usually when heavy lifting was involved.

Returning from the growing pile, I circled the south end of the cabin. I did it that way on purpose. Trouble would come from the north. By making a wide loop on the south, I could peer up the road to the north by a good 60 or 70 yards, albeit through the brush. But the brush was thinned on that side of the road, thanks to days of hard work on my part.

Trouble may come from the north, but I’d have a warning.

I noticed my helper missing again. Not unusual. A young boy became bored easily, and awfully fast. Thus, I was used to him wandering off between loads. Once he heard the ax strike the oak, he’d make his way back. He always did.

As I bent to grab the tool I heard his voice, south and nearby. I didn’t know what imaginary tale he was on, but it involved plenty of chatter. The conversation caused me to smile and think back on my youth. Different time, I reminded myself, a very different time.

I pulled the head of the ax from the stump and lined up my next piece of wood. Another hour or so and my work would be done, at least for one day. There was always plenty for the future around here.

“I can show you where the well is,” Nate said, sounding like he was straight behind me somewhere.
What was that boy doing now?

I peeked over my shoulder to check on him before thrusting the ax. I spotted him on the road, to the south. What I saw with him had me freeze mid-swing.

Shit; people. People from the south. Shit.

Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

I didn’t get a good look at them before I charged the road. If I had, I might have used a different approach.

“Get out of here,” I shouted, breaking into a jog. “Get the hell away from that boy!”

A single figure rose beside Nate. If it was a man, the sleeveless yellow sundress was out of place. The long blond hair, hanging past her shoulders, was a potential second clue. And I hadn’t noticed many men up this way wearing wide-brimmed straw sunbonnets.

It was a woman, a slight woman.

Her eyes narrowed as I approached, draping a thin bare arm over Nate’s shoulder. Only when I came to a stop did I notice the second intruder, a miniature version of the first. Same dress, same hair, same hat; just not as tall. The little girl squeezed in behind her caregiver’s right hip.

“Stop right there!” I shouted, though I was mere yards from them, so a raised voice may have not been necessary. “Let the boy go. He doesn’t need to be involved in any of this.”