Threnody (Book 1) (20 page)

After a few moments Trenton regained some sense of composure.  “She was our receptionist.  It was just she and I here when this all started.  I was working late on an upcoming trial when she told me about some of the strange things she heard from a friend of hers that worked at the radio station out by the airport.  Knowing I was going to spend the better part of the following week here in the office preparing for a trial, I sent her to the store to get some supplies fearing there might be a run on the staple items, as there always is when there is any threat of impending disaster.  Linda dutifully did as I requested but returned empty handed after being assaulted by a ‘deranged drug addict’ as she approached her car.  She said she doused him with pepper spray and kicked him in his ‘drugged-up balls,’ neither of which deterred him.  She knocked him down with her purse and fled, but not before the sick bastard managed to gnaw a chunk out of her ear like he was Mike Tyson or some shit!” said Trenton, as he sniffed back mucous that in all likelihood had more to do with his recent regurgitation than any emotion felt for the woman.

“At first she seemed okay, but later that afternoon, she started complaining that she felt ill.  I fell asleep at my desk and awoke to a snarling, moaning noise that sounded like a wild animal had weaseled its way into the office.  That’s when I saw Linda just standing there swaying, and I realized that she was the one responsible for the awful sound.  As soon as she caught sight of me staring at her, she gave chase, but I managed to barricade myself in the upstairs room.  She has been clawing at the door ever since,” said Trenton trailing off.

Despite their distaste for the new survivor, both John and Reams felt sorry for him and his situation.  Begrudgingly, John extended a hand to help Trenton to his feet.  “Come on, we should get moving,” said John.

Exiting the office, the three men trudged quietly back to Al’s house.  Along the way they encountered only a few of the infected and were easily able to avoid detection.  John led the group with Reams bringing up the rear.  Trenton remained an unknown to the two men, and they did not want to give him a firearm only to be inadvertently shot by it.  For that reason, he remained unarmed in the middle flanked by the two armed men.

John found it odd that Trenton did not seem to want a weapon and thought that he truly had no idea of what the world was like outside of his little sheltered office.  John knew the three of them were going to have a long discussion once they were safe at Al’s.

Feet tortured and legs aching, they finally made it back to Al’s compound.  John made Trenton take off his loafers a couple miles out as they kept clacking loudly against the pavement.  When he mentioned this, Trenton initially glared at him with defiant indignation and refusal in his eyes.  Leaning down toward the shorter man’s ear, John whispered in an almost inaudible tone, “Take those dinner bells off of your feet now. Got it?”  When John straightened up, he saw all the blood drain away from the Trenton’s face as he realized what John was implying before finally acquiescing.

The moment the group stepped inside the confines of Al’s house, Trenton’s verbal barrage began.  “My feet are absolutely killing me!  The first priority is finding me a decent pair of size eights. I probably won’t be able to walk for a couple of days with these blisters!  The phones were down at my office; have you two been in contact with the authorities?  Where is the government on this thing?  I appreciate the help thus far, but I think we should meet up with the military or law enforcement, and get to somewhere safer than this,” droned Trenton, seemingly unaware that neither of the exasperated men were listening to him any longer.

John had one hand extended across Reams’ expansive chest and the other over his face, the thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose.  He called Trenton’s name several times with increasing volume before the undersized man finally paused to listen.

“Trenton, there is a lot we need to talk about and a good deal you need to know and accept about this shit-storm of an epidemic going on around us.”  John motioned toward the door to indicate the deadly new world that lay beyond.  “But my friend and I are really tired and very hungry.  We have been out patrolling all day with no rest and precious little food.  I will explain the situation to you as best I can, but first I would like to sit down, stow my gear, and get a bite to eat.  Now, we brought you here to stay with us, but for that to work, you are going to have to be a bit less demanding, and a bit more cooperative.  Okay?”

For the briefest instant Trenton looked more insulted than if he had just been told he could not get a tee time at the local country club.  This sentiment, however, was quickly replaced with a look that tried to convey understanding and sympathy, though the contempt percolating just below the surface was impossible to miss. 

In a tone that made it clear it was not okay, Trenton replied, “Of course, I do not wish to impose.”

“Good, now make yourself at home, and we’ll talk later,” said John as he went about putting away his gear.

A couple of hours later the three men sat as John explained the situation to Trenton.  He told him about the airport and Al’s place, what they knew about the infection, and what information they had about the government and military response.  He finished by telling Trenton about his family, his search for his daughter, Ava, and about the strange phone call from his friend, Dr. Lin San.  John was surprised that the man did not utter a single word of interruption the entire time.  In fact, several minutes passed after John concluded before Trenton said anything at all.

“So that’s it then, it over,” said Trenton, his tone unmistakably dismal.

It was Reams’ turn to speak.  “Over?  What exactly do you mean?” said the big man with undisguised disgust in his voice.  “You mean ‘the end of the world, why bother, let’s just feed ourselves to the revs or put a bullet in our brain’ over?  Well, if that’s what you want to do lawyer boy, then be my guest,” said Reams as he drew his pistol, racked the slide, and handed it to Trenton who recoiled from the thing as if it was a poisonous snake poised to strike.  Reams continued, “Me and my friend here, on the other hand, have work to do.  There is a little girl out there and a lady who might just be able to come up with a cure for this bullshit, and both of them could probably use a little help right about now.  So if you’re done groveling then I suggest you get some rest.  Otherwise, I’ll leave this right here for you,” concluded Reams as he slammed the pistol down onto the coffee table.  The big man stormed off toward his sleeping quarters.

“John, wake me when it’s my shift,” said Reams without looking back.

John stared at the handgun on the table for a moment before glancing up at Trenton, whose eyes were still locked on the weapon, hopelessly trying to wrap themselves around the power and the possibilities the weapon held.

“Trenton?” said John.  The man slowly raised his eyes to regard him, and John could see, for better or worse, that all of the fight had been taken out of Trenton by Reams’ harsh words.  “Get some sleep,” said John.  “I’ve got to get ready for first watch.”

Chapter 21

October 16, 2015

Though it had been only three days since they rescued Trenton, his incorporation into the group was already proving to be a challenge.  John and Reams quickly learned that the lawyer possessed very few practical skills and even less desire to acquire such skills.  The morning after they brought him back to Al’s house John awoke to find Trenton in the kitchen trying to figure out how to make some coffee.  John smirked as he showed him how to light the propane stove to boil some water.  There was an awkward silence as the two men sat at the table.  Trenton saw the worn photo with ragged edges lying on the table, and he picked it up to have a closer look.  As he gazed at the photograph John saw a brief, unmistakable shift in Trenton’s facial expression.  Uncertain of the significance of the change, John immediately began interrogating him.  “Have you seen her?  Did she pass by your office?  Was she okay?  Tell me, dammit!” 

Startled by the sudden barrage, Trenton stammered somewhat as he tried to construct his reply.  “I…I’m not sure.  There was a girl, but I think she was a bit older, maybe darker hair also…” said Trenton.

“When did you see her?  How did she sound?  Was she hurt?”  John fired off all the questions in his racing mind in rapid-fire succession.

“Slow down, I’m not sure of anything.  I don’t even know if it was her. I just thought for a moment they were at least similar.  I didn’t talk to her or anything. She just passed along the street below the office at a fast walking pace a couple of days ago.  There were several of those things following behind her at a distance,” said Trenton trailing off as he noticed something dark pass over John’s visage.

In a low hiss that sounded utterly inhuman, John growled, “You cowardly piece of shit! You sat there in your chicken-shit little office and watched a child run past your window being pursued by revs and made no effort to help her or even signal her to hide in your building.  What the hell kind of person are you?”  The rage boiling behind his eyes proved too much to contain as John launched out of his chair toward the cowering man.  Before Trenton could even whimper, John had him pinned against the wall with his forearm smashing into his throat.  “I should just…” continued John before abruptly dropping the thoroughly petrified man onto the floor.  As he turned, John noticed the distinct smell of piss. He stormed out of the kitchen, passing Reams in the hallway.

“You okay, buddy?  You look a bit flushed,” said Reams.

With no small amount of tension in his voice, John replied, “Fine, just sick of this shit, you know?”  John wasn’t certain where he found the self-control to put Trenton down, and he certainly wasn’t sure Reams would exercise such restraint if he knew of his conversation with Trenton.

Since the incident in the kitchen nearly two days ago, Trenton largely avoided John.  The three men now sat discussing John and Reams’ plan to head back out on patrol that day.  It was, of course, Trenton who objected. “It’s not safe. You guys have seen what those things are like,” pleaded Trenton. “What if they find their way back here while you are gone?  I’ll be overrun…the house will be overrun.” 

Exasperated, Reams spoke up, “Look you’re safer here than out there with us.  John and I work well as a team out there, and that has kept us safe and alive thus far.  If you come with us, you endanger not only yourself but us as well.”

The small man shot daggers at the much larger Reams as he glared at him with clear contempt burning in his eyes.  “Well I’m not staying here alone,” hissed the feisty little man as he inched forward toward Reams, in what looked to be a modern day rehashing of David and Goliath. 

John intervened, “Cut it out!  Look, Trenton, you
can’t
go with us, and we
are
going out.  When we get back we can go over some of what we have learned and what we do out there.  We’ll even start training you to defend yourself against the revs if you’re interested.  But for now Reams is right, you will endanger us all if you come with us.”

Deep down Trenton knew John was right, but he had never been one to admit his own faults or insecurities easily.  Reluctantly, Trenton said, “Fine…but you guys are taking unnecessary risks by heading out there each day.  We should be trying to find a safer place to go—trying to find the military or law enforcement.”  He concluded adding, “The reality is that no one else around here likely survived this thing, and searching for a needle in a haystack – a deadly, infected haystack I might add – is just misguided.”

John brought a hand across Reams’ expansive chest to block his advance as the lawyer’s words again enraged the big man.  “Look, try to familiarize yourself with some of the weapons in Al’s arsenal or do something else useful around here.  We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” said John as he and Reams walked out the front door.

After a few tense minutes of silence, Reams spoke up, “That little shit is going to get us all killed.  We should have left his ass for the revs back at his office.”

John stopped walking and gave Reams an expression that was equal parts concern and resignation.

“No doubt Trenton is a pain in the ass, and I don’t like what he brings to the group any more than you.  Hell, I’m not sure he brings anything to the group. But the reality is that we don’t really have the luxury of picking and choosing who we work with anymore.  I think our best bet at this point is to try to get him up to par in some skill other than bitching and complaining.”

With a sigh, Reams nodded in understanding as the two men resumed their patrol.

Over the last week they had managed to search all of the surrounding areas that were close enough for them to do so and still have enough time to make it back to Al’s before dark.  They soon realized that their efforts were far more likely to be fruitful if they could extend their range.  Initially, they considered using a vehicle, but quickly dismissed the idea due to the noise it would generate. Their methods for quietly navigating through areas encumbered by the infected had proven effective thus far.  They ultimately decided the best option was to establish a waystation or safe-house they could use as a sort of forward operating base.  The creation of such a safe-house was one of the primary goals of their mission that morning.  They each carried extra food, water, ammo, and supplies with plans to cache it at a safe-house once established.

They had not encountered anyone, alive or otherwise, since leaving Al’s earlier that morning.  To the north of Al’s place, near the limits of their previous searches, was an upscale neighborhood on the outskirts of town.  They had briefly searched the area several days prior, but only the streets and the exterior of some of the homes.  At that time they did not enter any of the residences, feeling that the risks outweighed the benefits. They did not need any supplies and they assumed that if anyone, especially Ava, were alive inside any of the houses, they would signal them.  When they were there four days ago, there had been only a few revs milling about in the streets of the gated community. The two men chose the neighborhood to establish the safe-house for that reason as well as its location on the outskirts of town, away from the greatest population density.  The fact that it was a gated community was also a plus and, while there was no power going to the heavy wrought iron gate, it was closed when the power failed.  Also, the houses were moderately spaced which would offer improved visibility and, being an upscale neighborhood, there were likely to be a lot of useful items tucked away in some of the large houses.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll stumble across another Al,” joked John with a small amount of pain mixed with his words.  John also had another reason for choosing the location—it would put them in good position to be able to scout beyond Trenton’s office in the direction he indicated the young girl was travelling.

As they approached the neighborhood they could see a large brick sign that read, ‘Hermitage Estates,’ just outside the main gate.  To their surprise, an old Ford pickup truck was backed up against the gate. They were certain the vehicle had not been there previously.  The red truck was pocked with rust, and the windshield displayed a prominent spider web crack centered over the passenger side.  They could see no one in or around the truck from a distance. As they exchanged a glance, the interest and concern was clearly displayed on both of their faces.

Without a word Reams looked toward John then motioned to a nearby tree, wiggling two fingers in a ‘climbing’ signal.

Nodding, John silently crawled to the tree about fifteen yards from their current position.  Hopping to grab the first branch, John strained as he hoisted himself up into the tree with his rifle slung across his back, while Reams covered him from his concealed position.  Once he was high enough to see beyond the neighborhood walls, he retrieved his binoculars and scanned the area.  He saw no healthy people, but it seemed that several vehicles were in different positions than he recalled previously.  Only the occasional shambling figure could be seen milling about inside the walls.

When his eyes scanned the far corner of the neighborhood, however, John made several concerning observations.  The first was the fact that there appeared to be a greater density of infected amassed around two houses on opposing corners of an intersection.  The second was that one of the houses looked as though it sustained fire damage since they were last there.  What he could see of the front of the house was charred.  The second floor siding bore long, black streaks that stretched upward toward the roof, undoubtedly left by the flames that had licked the walls.  Lastly, four or five dead revs lay scattered about the yards and intersection. John was certain none of this was there the last time he and Reams were in Hermitage Estates.

Climbing down, he made his way back to Reams who remained surprisingly well concealed given his substantial bulk.  Uncertain of what they would encounter once inside the walls of the community, John and Reams decided to lighten their loads by caching some of the extra supplies in the makeshift hide Reams created just outside the tall brick wall.  Cautiously, they eased out of cover and toward a fallen tree that was dutifully propped against the brick wall like a natural staircase.  Eyes scanning and guns at the ready, the two men crouched just inside the walls of Hermitage Estates after scaling the downed tree.  The neighborhood sprawling around them was deathly silent and appeared to be completely devoid of life.  Fortunately, their point of ingress put them on the opposite side of the neighborhood as the intersection that was drawing the attention of the local revs presently. Satisfied there was no immediate threat, the two men quietly moved to investigate several of the closest residences to find a suitable safe-house.

The first house they encountered was a moderately sized two-story home that, at first glance, appeared untouched by the ravages of the plague.  Neither man was surprised to find all of the exterior doors locked, forcing them to devise another way into the domicile.  Reams produced a silver roll of duct tape from his pack and proceeded to cover the windowpane closest to the lock on the rear door.  A look through the window on the opposite wall revealed that while there was a sliding latch much higher on the door, it had not been engaged.  He rolled up an extra shirt and placed it over the glass pane before smashing it with a powerful elbow strike.  Thankfully, the exploding glass held fast to the duct tape.

Before he even reached in to unlock the door, Reams was assaulted by the compost smell of bottled-up decay—a smell not unlike that released when a dirty dish is removed from the sink, inadvertently unearthing the mephitis that has been festering in the moist, dark confines of the dish below.  His stomach – writhing and churning in protest – fought desperately to hold on to its meager contents.  He did not bother unlocking the door, instead choosing to move on to the next house.

The house next door looked similar to many that the two men had seen in John’s neighborhood.  The front door stood ajar and there were various domestic goods strewn about the unkempt lawn of the two-story structure.  Reams felt certain this would be a better option than the first house. 
At least the damn smell should have cleared by now!
 

John carefully approached the front of the house, as Reams took up position beside a mammoth magnolia tree in the front yard.  When John was safely in position to the right of the porch stairs, Reams advanced as John covered his movement.  Hearing nothing that warned of danger, John again moved forward taking up position along the right side of the open door.  With practiced efficiency, the men cleared the main room of the house.  Systematically, they went room to room, ensuring there were no revs lurking within.  Finding none, they began shoring up the three primary entry points on the ground level of the home.

Made of solid wood with only small windows all above eye level, the front door needed minimal additional security.  The rear door, on the other hand, was a sliding glass door that opened onto a deck.  While they intended to barricade the door from the inside, they also decided it would be prudent to remove the stairs leading up to the deck for maximum security against unwanted, infected visitors.  The last entry point was the two-car garage.  The lower half of the external door leading into the garage was solid wood with the top half being made of double pane glass.  Reams found a cordless drill and was pleased to find its batteries still had some power left. 
Screws will definitely make less noise than nails.

John found an extension ladder in the garage and realized that, while the fallen tree provided excellent means for getting into the neighborhood, they still needed a way to get out quickly should the need arise.  He extended the ladder to the appropriate height, and wrapped duct tape around the legs where the two sections joined to eliminate any noise from the metal clanging together.  He then wrapped the top end of the ladder legs with cloth, securing it with duct tape as well.