The Renegades (Book 5): United (2 page)

“Take the truck, and the women.”

Both Rowan and I stepped in front of them but it wasn’t necessary. The three could handle themselves.

“If you think we are going with you, think again,” Jess said.

“Get in the damn truck,” the guy stammered. “And you two, move.” He fired a round at our feet. “I won’t ask again.”

“It’s all right. We’ll go with them.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” a familiar voice said from above. I smiled as I glanced up. Cutting into the sun a dark silhouette stood aiming an assault rifle at the men. I cupped a hand over my eyes to block the glare.

It was Elijah. Standing beside him was Baja, and three others. On the opposite building were four more from the camp along with Ben.

“What the fuck is this? A Sinbad convention?” Baja asked.

Both Rowan and I stepped forward and picked up our weapons.

“Hey sweet cheeks. Is that you down there?” Baja shouted to Izzy while covering his eyes with a hand.

She flipped him the bird, and gave a smile. In a strange way the two of them had begun to warm up to each other. I would have never imagined it in a million years but over the past few months, Izzy and Baja had been seen together. Of course she completely denied that she was seeing him, but rumor had it they were caught screwing up a storm down by the beach.

I smirked before heading back to the truck. I cast a glance over my shoulder just in time to see Rowan taking out his aggression.

“Funny how the tables turn, eh?” Rowan said before smashing the butt of his gun into the face of the one who’d asked him if he wanted to die.

S
ection A was located
in Shinnecock Hills, a hamlet that was part of Suffolk County. It was the first immediate area that people came into once they came through the access points. Heavily guarded and with twenty-four seven security, it was to be the temporary home for the eight men who we’d met in our travels.

While some vehemently disagreed with bringing back those who showed any sign of aggression, Ethan and the other six leaders believed that people were a product of their environment. Beyond the walls, hostility was to be expected. It didn’t mean they couldn’t join the community, it just meant they would be given the chance to prove they could function and fit in. For some reason, two weeks seemed to be the magic number. They had tuned the process to a fine art. Those who returned were quarantined, interviewed about what their intentions were, where they came from and whether they would like to stay if given the opportunity. Those who didn’t were returned to the city on the next run. Few turned down the invitation of a warm bed, food and shower. In that time the homes they used were bugged and monitored. Those who returned to the city never saw anything beyond the gates of Shinnecock Hills.

As the trucks bumped their way in past the gate, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Ethan, several months back.

“But what happens if their goal is to infiltrate?”

He seemed confident that the process that they had set up was foolproof.

“We have a 100% rate of success to date.”

“But that doesn’t mean you won’t have those who will pass all your questions, interviews and surveillance. Take us for instance. How did you know you could trust us?”

“We didn’t. And we didn’t have section A in place back then. Call it a gut instinct. We took a gamble.”

The doors to the truck swung open and I hopped out. Several military personnel led the eight into a building. By now their faces were visible. By all accounts they looked no different than us. Except their skin was extremely pale. Like they hadn’t been exposed to sun in months or they had used some form of white powder on their faces. The one who had done all the talking had burn marks up around his neck, and a deep red birthmark that covered one side of his face.

“Johnny.”

The man glanced back at the sound of Baja calling my name. He sneered as they were led into a trailer. There was something about him that felt off. It wasn’t just the way they handled themselves back in the city. Hell, we were no different when it came to survival. Every run beyond the gate held a degree of risk. The risk of dying at the hands of the infected, the risk of being held captive by rogue survival groups, but it was one we were willing to take. No one was forced to go out, it was strictly volunteer-based. It seemed to work. It even gave me a sense of hope to see people lay aside their differences. Before the mess that we now found ourselves in, society seemed divided by religion, skin color, race and anything else they could find to divide themselves. Now it rallied together to work towards one goal — survival. Commonalities brought us together, differences took a backseat. It was the way the world was meant to be. To think that it had taken an apocalypse to make us realize that was absurd.

“So I’m holding a bit of a shindig over at my pad this evening. Wondered if you and Wren would be interested?”

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

“Seven o’clock?”

I nodded. Baja jumped into a jeep, cranked up the tunes and zipped away nearly plowing down four people in the process. They raised their fists to him, he tossed them the bird. I let out a laugh. What a guy.

I turned to see where Wren had disappeared to when I caught sight of Rowan and Jess across the way. Rowan was running his hands through her hair and then they began sucking each other’s faces like they were trying to extract blood. As they pulled apart, Jess noticed me looking their way.

I scoffed and shook my head.
Like I give a shit.

Though we had drifted apart, it seemed right. Everything we had shared before felt almost like a distant memory. We were younger, naïve and unaffected by loss. How quickly we were forced into growing up.

I diverted my gaze away from her. Sometimes, usually late at night I would chew over the decision I’d made to place her on that chopper back in Salt Lake City. Was it meant to happen? Life on the road made small relationship issues seem trivial. You were always so focused on gathering the bare essentials and protecting what you had that there was no time to dwell on what your partner wasn’t giving you in a relationship, or how someone had wronged you.

It was funny how a safe zone could bring to the surface what had already been bubbling underneath.

I felt a pair of hands wrap around my eyes. I was pretty damn sure they weren’t Wren’s as they felt too callused. “Elijah.”

“Oh come on, how did you know?”

“I was about to say it’s the fragrant body wash that you use — Old Spice. But then I remembered you opt for the more manly stuff like Oil of Olay.”

He punched my arm.

“How’s it going, bud?”

“Good.”

I turned to see both him and Ben staring back. “Ben.”

Ben gave me one of his manly back pats. “Is it strange that we haven’t seen each other in over two months?

“Well, I was hoping to never see you two again but…”

The corner of my lip curled up.

“So did he invite you?” I asked, stating the obvious.

“Of course.” He paused. “Who else is going to bring the beer?”

I shook my head. “Why doesn’t he just go down and get some more?”

“You know him. Why bother when others can bring it?”

The strange but wonderful part about the whole apocalypse was that beer was still readily available through some of the local beer breweries on Long Island. There were eleven of them in total dotted around the island. One right in Southampton. Of course, none of the machines were working but there were still stacks of beer in warehouses, along with hops and barley that could be used for making more. In a world that had gone to shit, it was definitely that one thing that made the hard days bearable.

Those days now seemed few and far between. It had almost become unusual. With more joining the community each week, there were more people to rotate in shifts, go on runs and carry some of the weight. While Paradise was split into seven districts, we all had learned to co-exist together under the leadership of the seven. Weekly meetings were held in each district, while every three months we would come together to discuss the larger issues facing Paradise as a whole.

Some of those meetings had become quite heated. It was probably around then I began to notice that maybe having districts wasn’t a good idea. It created an us-versus-them mentality. It was something that existed before the apocalypse. Whether it was religion against religion, country against country or politician against politician. Humanity always seemed to end up in the same place of seeing someone else’s view as a threat.

If that had been the cause of so many wars in the past, was it possible that it could happen again and divide us as a community?

If this was to work, we had to work together and up until now that was happening.

Those with military background continued to serve in the same facet that they had before. They provided security at the main access points, as well as in and around the shores. There were four police officers whose entire job was to ensure disputes were handled. There were three doctors and several nurses. No matter what trade a person had, others still were required to assist as and when needed. Those who had no skills in medical were taught it, those who had never fired a weapon before were taken through training. In many ways life continued as it had before. We each tried to carve out an existence that went beyond surviving.

A long road was ahead of us, but the future looked promising. With every run into the city, the number of Z’s seemed to get a little less. So far there had been no talks about expanding beyond the two access points but I was certain if we continued to grow at the rate we were, it wouldn’t be long until that happened. Though right now what we had in our corner of New York was working.

For how long? — that was to be determined.

I just didn’t realize that things would change so soon.

B
aja’s decision
on what house he would take came down to one thing — marijuana. I kid not. The guy searched home after home in Southampton and surrounding areas until he found a modern beach house that must have once been owned by a marijuana grower. An entire room in the basement had been converted into a grow op. Lamps, foil, the whole nine yards.

The guy was as a happy as a clam.

As Wren and I rolled up in one of the many abandoned vehicles dotted around the island, we could already see it was going to be one hell of a party. From the outside, we could see everyone bouncing around inside to the music. The house was made from limestone and hardwood. A 12,000-square-foot home pressed up against the beach in the south end of the Hamptons. You could say he had stepped up in the world. It had more windows than walls. The door was already wide open and people were spilling out in various stages of intoxication.

It might seem odd that folks would have let their guard down in an apocalypse, but we had spent so many months without anything happening, that the chances of being overrun now seemed laughable.

Ethan and the rest of the seven were right. Paradise had started to become the beginnings of humanity rebuilding. Protection at the access points and roaming patrols made everyone feel safe. The distance from the city, and the surrounding coast, only added to that sense of security. How many other safe zones had managed to provide that?

We navigated around the stream of people of all ages coming in and out of the main door.

“How many people did he invite?” Wren asked as a couple ran past us with six others.

Whoever originally owned the home must have hired one hell of a designer. The amount of detail and attention that had been given to every aspect of the house screamed more money than sense.

After being on the road for so long, seeing people relax and let their hair down was a welcome sight. The living room was located on the second floor providing an incredible view of the ocean and bay. Not that we could see much because it was night but the few times I had been over in daylight, it was stunning.

Standing in front of a roaring fireplace was Elijah chatting to Sara, a doctor on the island.

“Hey, where’s Baja?”

He pointed up towards the roof terrace. Upstairs on the roof it was like a ship with rich wood flooring, another fireplace and white furniture. Seated over by the fireplace with two women around him was Baja sipping wine. He reminded me of a black Hugh Hefner wearing a velvet smoking jacket. He was puffing away on a fat cigar when he spotted us.

“Hey, hey! Welcome to my crib,” he said before waving off the two women like they were his own personal fluffers.

“I’m guessing Izzy hasn’t arrived?” Wren asked.

He peered around us nervously. “Yeah, old sweet cheeks doesn’t take too kindly to all the love I’m getting from all the ladies, but what can a guy do? I’ve got to keep them happy.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Did you guys get a drink?”

“No, but we brought some.”

“Well, give me one then,” he said. It was the only party I had been to where you had to drink your own because no one shared. If you didn’t bring any, you didn’t get any. I was about to ask him if he’d seen Ben when he turned and started shouting at a couple who were all over each other on the couch.

“Hey, hey, get your nasty asses off my couch, I don’t want you leaking your shit all over this. Do you know how much this place cost?”

We moved to the wall that overlooked the beach and ocean. Wren pulled two beers and twisted off the caps, then handed one to me. I took a swig and placed it on the wall. Condensation dripped down the side creating a ring. We perched ourselves on the edge and took in our surroundings. It was good to see people enjoying themselves and trying to forget that the world beyond the walls had fallen.

“Do you think this will last?”

“I don’t see why not.” She glanced at me.

“Ah, call me a pessimist but it seems that everything good that has ever come our way has eventually turned to shit.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “Not everything.” She leaned over and pressed her lips against mine. As I pulled her in close, over her shoulder I saw Rowan and Jess come up. She caught sight of us. The smile on her face vanished. Wren must have sensed a change as she twisted in my arms, casting a glance over her shoulder.

An hour into the party, with people filled up with liquid courage, a fight broke out downstairs. Baja went off to sort it out, while Elijah and I sat on the couch, Wren was off to my right and Rowan, Jess and Izzy across from us. Elijah puffed away on a large cigar with his feet up on the table. One thing that had changed was the conversation.

Before, it would have been about finding food or gas or pursuing some asshole. But twelve months had changed that, people were back to trying to find excitement in their life, comparing and making out that their life didn’t suck as bad as anyone else’s. Basically Facebook but without the Internet.

“So how are things down in Montauk?” Elijah asked behind a cloud of smoke. Izzy coughed and swiped the air so she could see him.

I could see Izzy searching for the words. Each of the seven districts had around five hundred people, they each acted as their own small village. She ummed. It’s not like anyone could say, “Hey, I’m off to the Bahamas next month” or “I just landed my dream job in Hollywood.” It was more like “I learned how to fish” or “I finally can shoot the top off a bottle” or “We have created a new garden.”

“Oh, lots going on down there. You really should join us.”

I rolled my eyes. And there it was. Now people were trying to make out that their neck of the woods was better than the one we were in. It was the same old shit, repackaged and served up on a platter.

“What about you, Johnny?” Jess asked. “What’s new in your world?”

I could see the look in her eye. Like a kid prodding a hornet’s nest for fun. She was looking to get a reaction. She didn’t care what was going on in my world. She made that clear the day she shut me out of hers.

“To be honest, I’m thinking of moving.”

Wren slapped my leg playfully. “You never told me that.”

“Yeah, I think it’s time.”

“Which district are you going to?” Rowan asked.

I eyed him over the top of my drink. “Actually none. I’m thinking of moving to the Fortress. Where Specs is.”

Elijah began coughing on his cigar so much that Izzy passed him a drink and he washed it down. His eyes were red as the smoke stung them.

“Are you out of your mind?” he said turning around.

“Not any more than us staying here.”

“But here there’s better protection. Better living. There’s enough people to carry the load of what needs to be done. Heck, I haven’t been out on the wall in over a month, it’s been beautiful.”

Each of them looked at me as if I had lost the plot.

“Why doesn’t Specs come here?” Elijah continued.

“He’s made a life for himself where he is. It’s going well.”

Jess gave a fake laugh. “Yeah, right. How well can you live in the middle of nowhere?”

“Well you should know, moving all the way to the tip of the island. Oh, but that’s right, you just want some alone time,” I said.

She glared at me.

“What if you get back there and discover he’s not there?” Izzy asked.

“I know he’s there. I’ve been talking to him using the ham radio over in North Haven.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us?” Jess asked.

Rowan shot Wren a questioning look. As they were siblings I kind of figured he would assume she might want to come with me. But I hadn’t told her. In fact, I hadn’t told anyone.

“Why do you want to leave?” Jess asked.

“I made a promise.”

“You made me one, look how that turned out,” she replied in front of them all. I had to admit I didn’t expect that, and by the look on Rowan’s face, neither did he. The only difference was, I no longer cared. At least, I didn’t think I did.

I swallowed the last of my beer and placed the bottle on the table.

“It’s different.”

“Is it?” she shot back.

I shook my head and went to get up. “I’m not getting into this with you.”

“No that’s it, Johnny, just walk away. You’re good at that.”

I stopped for a second to let her words sink in.

“Jess,” Izzy stammered in a reprimanding manner.

“Oh who cares.” She got up and brushed past me making it clear that she was pissed.

The interesting part about it all was Wren’s reaction. Hers was the complete opposite of Jess’s. She just smiled, even let out a little chuckle. Really, the two of them were like oil and water.

Baja came back up just in time to be pushed out of the way by Jess. His eyes drifted over us. “Oh come on, what did I miss?”

* * *

T
hat evening back
at the house, I noticed how unaffected Wren was by the news. When she did stay over, she would go through the same routine, except this evening she seemed uninterested. Without TV, Internet or such to keep a person occupied, life was pretty much quiet. Having conversations and reading books, playing card games and getting out near the beach was how most residents of Paradise occupied themselves in their downtime. It wasn’t like her. At least from what I’d seen so far.

“You want to go take a dip in the ocean?” she asked.

I looked at her as she removed her clothes, slid open the door and raced down to the beach completely butt naked. How could I object to that? I returned a devilish smile and dropped down to my birthday suit. Outside the air was humid and warm. The ocean lapped against the shore leaving behind its milky froth.

She didn’t even hesitate, or check the water with her toes. She dived in and came up gasping.

“Shit, that’s little chilly.”

I joined her by wading in. I winced. “Chilly? Holy crap, that is nut shrinking cold.”

She chuckled before swimming on her back. A silver crescent moon reflected off the dark water. I was always paranoid about sharks. After seeing the movie
Jaws
as a kid, I fully expected one to rear its head and take me down. I pushed the fearful thought from my mind, telling myself these waters were too cold.

The further we went out, the more we could see of the island. Small generators that used gas or diesel powered some of the homes. Others didn’t bother, while some used fire to light up the outside. People made do with whatever they could find.

According to Specs they were doing fine, but how long their supplies would last was another thing entirely. It certainly made sense to have him trek across the country and join us, but the likelihood of that happening was slim.

It wasn’t that I was eager to leave behind the comfort and protection of a safe zone but I was feeling restless. Perhaps if Dax had been here, I might have thought differently. But he wasn’t. Now, those that remained were trying to carve out an existence on an island, pretending our world hadn’t gone to shit. But realistically, how long could we make it work?

How long before someone would screw it up?

But it wasn’t even that. Maybe I wasn’t ready to put my roots down?

I was beginning to think that the agreement to live in separate towns and give each other a break from one another wasn’t done because we got on each other’s nerves. I had to wonder if it was because we were all trying to determine if Paradise was really home. The only way you could do that was to try and live out a normal existence, as normal as it could be for a society that had suffered a setback that had thrown us into the dark ages. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme but it wasn’t that far off.

Sure we had the city nearby, all the factories and houses that were still full of resources but those would eventually run out. Whether it was in five or ten years, what then?

It seemed as if we were just biding our time, waiting for the inevitable — death.

But wasn’t society like that before the apocalypse?

Humanity divided into countries, cities, towns and villages. People busied themselves with meaningful and meaningless activities. Dashing here and there, taking selfies, raising families, sending more kids into a never-ending cycle of hope and despair?

Was that all there was to life?

It felt wrong.

It didn’t matter if we lived out our lives behind these walls with more creature comforts than those beyond. It didn’t matter if we thought we were the smart ones while others carved out a meager existence in some shack in the woods.

What mattered was making our lives matter.

Doing something that brought us alive.

And one thing I was sure about. It wasn’t this. It wasn’t waiting to die behind these walls. My body held the cure and others needed it. If we only ventured out to collect food and resources, how was that benefiting others? How many others were floundering around in some town, city or village waiting for someone to help them? How many others were living life under the thumb of a tyrant or in fear of the undead and living insane?

“You haven’t said much about this evening.”

“Nothing to say really,” she replied treading water. I studied the way the light of the moon created shadows against her features.