American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow (11 page)

Chapter 14

            The
Grab-n-Stab men waited another full day before venturing back out.  Tam was
still badly shaken by the experience and Jimmy knew that it would take a while
for her to get past it, but he convinced her that he would come home.  Besides,
he had told her, it has to be done.

            Their
work went quickly that morning, having the car helped speed up the process.  They
had started at the end of Saverton West Road where it met with State Highway E. 
By noon they had reached the big east-turning curve that led back to Saverton
Drive.

            All
of the homes along this road were newer construction, with large lawns, and few
trees.  The grass had gotten tall, and the men took their time, making sure
there were no surprises in the overgrown yards.

            “If
we keep going like this we can finish off Saverton proper today, maybe start on
some of the little graveled-road communities around this area.”

            “I‘d
be happy to be done with Saverton for sure, Mike, but I’m not sure about taking
on everything else out there yet.”

            Mike
looked at Sam, “Why not?”

            “Well,
once we’ve finished clearing out the gut-suckers around here I think we should
go ahead and take the time to empty every house.  Get everything that the group
can use.  With winter coming on I think that would be a better use of the time
we have, and it will be a lot bigger task than what we’ve been doing.”

            Jimmy
agreed with Sam, and after a moment of thought so did Mike.  They continued
working through the houses, spending as little time as possible in each, hoping
to be finished and home in the next couple of hours.

            Mike
and Jimmy were checking the last couple of rooms in a small white house near
the end of the road.   The house was cramped, making it difficult for all three
men to move about easily.  Despite his unease at the tactical disadvantage of
doing so, Sam waited in the narrow hallway.  He stood facing a closet,
listening over the sounds of his companions’ banter at the end of the hall.  He
thought he could hear something coming from behind the canted wooden louvers
that made up the door. 

            “Guys,”
he called down the hall just as the door to the closet burst open right in
front of him.  He had time to think ‘This is no zombie’ before he felt a blade
bury itself in his left pectoral muscle, just below the clavicle.  The grimy
whiskered face pushing into his was one he had never seen before, but Mike
recognized it the moment he stepped into the hall.

            “Fucking
kill you all,” the face was saying, bandage wrapped fingers gripping the handle
of the knife tightly, pushing harder, trying to bury the blade to the hilt.

            Sam
screamed; it felt like the knife was on fire as it tore through flesh.  He
dropped his Remington 12 gauge, reaching up to push his attacker off him.  He
could already feel himself growing weaker.

            Mike
had come out into the hallway a step before Jimmy, instantly recognizing the
man on Sam as the same one from Jonathan’s house a few days ago.  He snapped up
his DPMS Oracle, but held off firing, afraid to hit Sam as the two men
struggled. 

            “Let
him go, you fuck, and I won’t put a bullet in your filthy fucking head!”  Mike
was nearly screaming at the man, rage taking over the moment he saw his friend
being attacked.

            The
man jumped back, bouncing off the wall.  He stood there, face twisted in blind
stupid rage, staring at the big man filling the narrow hallway. 

            Mike
dropped his aim, popping off three shots into the man’s abdomen.  The filthy
attacker dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach.  “You said you wouldn’t
shoot me!” He wheezed.

            “Piss
off and die, you goddamn prick,” Mike spat.  “I said I wouldn’t put one in your
head.”

            Pushing
past Mike, Jimmy pointed the 9mm he was carrying at the attacker’s tear
streaked face, and pulled the trigger over and over again.  He emptied the
magazine into the man’s head, leaving little of it intact as the hollow point rounds
tore away large chunks.

            Mike
and Jimmy turned to Sam, who was now slumped to the floor, leaning against the
wall.  Both men knelt beside him, and Jimmy grasped the knife lodged in his
chest.

            “No,
leave it in,” Sam said weakly.  “Get me back; Mom will know how to handle it. 
Ha, ‘handle’ it! That’s funny.”  Sam’s eyes rolled back as his head fell
forward.

            The
other two men glanced at each other, concern passing silently between them. 
Wordlessly they picked him up, grabbing the fallen shotgun as well.  Gently
they laid Sam across the big back seat of Sam’s prized car, careful not to bump
the knife. 

            Mike
slid behind the wheel while Jimmy reached back between the seats to steady
Sam.  They made it back to the camp in less than two minutes, with Mike
slamming on the horn as they got close. 

They were met in front of the main house by a rapidly
growing group of people, and Jan took over the instant she saw that her son was
badly wounded.  There was no time for talk as Sam was moved quickly to the dispensary,
which Jan and Anna had also set up as an emergency clinic.  Jan would let no
one but herself and Anna into the room.  She needed space and quiet to work on
Sam.

Everyone waited outside the building, unwilling to
leave while one of theirs was so seriously hurt.  Mike and Jimmy took the
opportunity to explain what had happened to the anxiously waiting group. 

Rick blamed himself for not simply killing the man out
of hand.  “If I hadn’t let him go this wouldn’t be happening.”

Jack stood back among the group, watching silently. 
His stomach was turning, and his head ached.  All the death and misery he had
seen was taking a bitter toll on him.

            “We
should have just shot the asshole when we had the chance,” Mike said.

            Everyone
fell silent, afraid to argue.  Mostly because they knew that Mike and Rick were
both right.  No one wanted to admit it out loud, but everyone wished that Rick
had executed the bastard, rather than let him walk away.

            Jan
came out of the building an hour later, blood covering her clothes.  “The wound
was bad,” She told the milling crowd, “and he lost a lot of blood.  But if he
makes it through the night I think he’ll be ok.”

            She
held her composure long enough to go back inside the dispensary, but just
barely.  Gordy followed her in, looked at his son and held his wife.  Neither
would leave the room the rest of the night.

****

            The
night was a long one, with few people able to sleep.  Those that did were
restless, unable to fully surrender themselves to the dark.

            As
dawn broke people stood outside in the crisp morning air, waiting for someone
to tell them whether Sam had made it through the night or not.  They were
hesitant to knock on the door, feeling they would somehow jeopardize his
condition, or Jan’s emotions.

            Gordy,
Jan and Anna had all awoke well before dawn, tending to Sam, praying that he
would open his eyes soon, that he would let them all know that he was going to
be ok.  They could hear the people outside talking quietly, but chose to ignore
them.

            Jan
was standing over Sam, examining the wound when his eyes fluttered, then opened
fully.  She was worried about the flaring redness around the wound, as well as
Sam’s increased temperature.

            “Mom? 
What’s going on?” Sam tried to look around but the movement of his neck and head
pulled at the wound, causing him to cry out.

            “You
were out with Mike and Jimmy yesterday.  A man stabbed you.  Do you remember?”

            Gordy
and Anna were on the other side of Sam, Gordy with his arm around his daughter’s
shoulder.  Quiet tears fell from Anna’s eyes, while Gordy fought hard to keep
his back. 

            “Yeah,
I remember now.  Sumbitch stabbed me good,” Sam said, his tongue feeling thick
and dry.  “Are Mike and Jimmy ok?”

            “Yes,
they’re fine, though I think they may have nearly broken that car getting you
back here.”

            Sam
was already fading back into sleep when he said, “Good guys, Mom, but better
not break my car.”  The last few words were nearly unintelligible. 

            Gordy
went outside to let the group know that Sam had woken up, spoken for a moment
and fallen back to sleep.  Many felt a sense of relief, but as a whole the
group’s spirits were low, and few people had the heart to go about the day’s
normal routine.

            Dinner
that night was simple, and sparse.  No one felt like eating.  Jan would not
leave Sam’s side, sending Anna for Gordy shortly after meal time.

            Gordy
rushed back to the dispensary and clinic, his heart already beating rapidly. 
Jan was standing over Sam when he walked through the door.  She had the bandage
peeled back from the wound and was examining it closely.  Gordy could see
rivulets of sweat running down Sam’s face and chest.

            “Jan?”

            She
looked over her shoulder at Gordy, her lips pressed tightly together. 
“Something’s wrong here.  His fever should be going down, not up.  He’s at 103
degrees right now.  He’s in extreme pain, and the strongest painkillers I have
don’t seem to help much.  I don’t know what’s happening, Gordon.”

            Jan’s
voice was cracking and Gordy put an arm around her, unsure of what to do. 
“Where’s the knife that he was stabbed with?”

            “Over
on that tray, I haven’t had time to get rid of it yet.”

            Gordy
picked up the knife by the handle, held it close to an oil lamp and turned it
slowly, looking closely at the blade.  “Janet…Oh God, Janet…”

            Jan
looked at him, fear leaping up to take its place in her throat as a large
painful lump.  The look of sick terror her husband wore brought it all into
sharp reality.  “The knife…”

            Gordy
looked back at her, “Yes, the knife.  It was poisoned.  It had zombie blood or
saliva on it.  Sam is…he’s…God, Janet…”

            Gordon
Fletcher was unable to finish his thought; any words would be insufficient to
express every emotion inside him just then.  Janet began to cry, her sobs
painful and real; the weeping of someone truly heartbroken.

            Gordon
stared at the knife in his hand, seeing every single detail, from the textured
grip, to the blood staining the blade.  The blood was not just his son’s
blood.  It was the blood of something that had once been human, blood that had
tainted the blade and passed on something far worse than death to his son.

            Gordon
did not realize he was screaming; he could only hear the shattering sound his
heart made when he realized that his son was going to die.  Gordon did not
realize that he had thrown the knife in all its offensiveness across the small
room, putting every ounce of anger into the throw. He also did not notice when
he sank to the floor, the ever-present pain in his knee forgotten, as it was
buried by the far more real pain in his heart.

            People
came bursting in, Sam’s blood relatives, followed quickly by his extended
family.  The small building filled quickly, but no one pushed anyone out. 
Grief, in its purest form, is something that must be shared.  When one person
alone bears that kind of grief it can be enough to destroy them, but if that
unrelenting sadness can be divided with more than one person, then each can
carry a smaller piece of it, making the burden easier to bear, within the hardship.

            The
following day was difficult for everyone.  Decisions had to be made amidst the
pain and sorrow everyone felt.  Rick took charge of the situation, speaking to
the Fletcher family.  Once they had agreed that to protect the group all bodies
must be burned, Rick gathered everyone able to help.

            A
massive pyre was built at the corner of Saverton Drive and Okotipi Drive to
reduce the risk of catching anything else on fire. 

The entire camp was gathered at the pyre, but no one
could speak.  The silence was heavy as Sam’s wrapped body was carefully lifted
to the top.  Everyone wanted to say something, and no one could say anything. 

            Once
everything was in place, the group stepped back as Gordy and Jan held hands,
clasping the torch they would use to light the funeral pyre of their son
between them.  They stood quietly, silent tears filling every eye.

            Jan
and Gordy would never talk about what they had done for Sam that day; how they
had held the knife they used to end his life clasped the same way they now held
the torch.  They burned that memory with the same pyre they used to burn the
remains of their son.

Chapter 15

            The
next few weeks were dismal for everyone.  People went about the motions of day
to day life.  Work on the wall continued, but at a much slower pace.  Children were
taught, meals were eaten, but the spirit of the Camp was one of quiet despair. 
Sam’s death had deeply scarred the morale of the group.

            Jimmy
and Mike returned to clearing out the houses, (which they stopped calling
Grab-n-Stab) joined by Rick and Calvin.  Using both vehicles currently
available to them they made quick work of cleaning out the homes of everything
the family of survivors could use to get through the winter. 

            In
their full searches of the houses they found several more working vehicles, as
well as power equipment such as chainsaws and another generator.  They found a
lot of food, though they were still uncertain if it would get everyone through
a long hard winter. 

            They
were most surprised that they found no other survivors in the tiny town.

            Gordy
spent much of his time hunting in the surrounding woods.  Though it was his
desire to be left alone, the rules of the group would not allow him to go out
by himself.  He often asked Jack to come along with him, mostly because Jack
had stopped talking to people in everything but one word sentences.

            He
killed two deer in as many weeks, Jack helping him to gut and drag the
carcasses back to camp.  A hot meal of fresh venison, along with canned
vegetables from Jonathan’s basement, and fresh baked bread went a long way
towards lifting the spirits of the camp.  Few things could connect, or
re-connect people like a shared meal of comfort foods.

            Though
it would take a long time for the wounds to heal, people began to talk to one
another again, sharing thoughts and feelings, along with the occasional laugh. 

            One
evening as the adults sat up around a small fire, Jan asked a question to Mike
and Jimmy. 

            “When
you killed those men, the ones trying to steal your bicycles, you said that the
big guy whose neck was broken became a zombie almost right away, correct?”

            “Yeah,
I would say it took less than a minute or two,” Jimmy answered.  “Why do you
ask?”

            “I’m
just wondering how this virus or whatever it is works.”

            “Without
proper research facilities and the people who understand that stuff, we’ll
probably never know,” Calvin said.

            “I
know, son,” Jan told him, “but if the sickness that killed so many at the
beginning of this has burned out, which it seems to have done, then where does
this virus come from?  Was it somehow carried in on the sickness, and left
behind after?  Is it just floating around in the air now, infecting every
single person?  Are we all going to turn into these undead
things
when we die?”

            “I
see what you’re getting at, Jan,” Gordy told his wife.  “If we didn’t get the
sickness, are we still somehow infected with whatever it is that turns people
into gut-suckers?”

            “Exactly,
that guy whose neck you broke reanimated shortly after that.  Jonathan’s wife
died from a fever after a bite, then came back.”  Jan paused, thinking about
Sam, not wanting to mention his name at all in this conversation for fear of
making feelings worse, especially for herself.  “We’ve seen what happens if
zombie effluvium is introduced to the body without a bite.”

            Everyone
was able to keep thinly veiled emotions in check, though Anna did get up and
walk away from the group.

            “It
seems that if people die, no matter how they die, they
will
turn into
one of
them
.  It also appears that a bite from
one of them is infectious with something other than the zombie disease.”  Jan
looked at those around the campfire, silently asking for opinions.

            “So
we don’t get bitten,” Jimmy said.  “We need to make more of the bite guards
that we’ve been wearing on our clearing runs.  Everyone should wear them at all
times if they go more than a few feet from the Camp.”

            “Very
true, Jimmy, but I would still like to know what the zombies carry that make
everyone so sick from the bite.  I would also like to know if there is a way to
cure the pathogen that causes people to reanimate after death.”

            Gordy
looked at his wife closely, asking, “If we got you the equipment, and somehow
made it work, would you know what to look for?”

            “I’m
not a pathologist, but I might be able to isolate it.”

            “Are
you saying you could cure zombies?”  Rick asked.

            “No,
once they’ve reanimated the brain is too far gone to repair.  You guys already
know the only cure for a zombified human.”

            Jack
sat with the others around the fire, just listening, watching these people that
had so easily adopted him into their family when Jimmy had first introduced him
to the group.  He listened, keeping all his feelings to himself.

****

            Jimmy
and Tam were out walking the perimeter of the camp late the next morning when
they came across Jack sitting with his back against a tree. 

            “Jack,
what’s up, man?”

            Jack
looked up at Jimmy and Tamara, standing over him. 

            “Nothing,
just wanted some time to think.  Thought I would come sit out here for a while,
where it’s quiet.”

            “You
know the rule about going anywhere alone,” Jimmy told him.  “I’d really hate to
come out here and find a zombie munching your face, brother.”

            Jack
winced, Jimmy’s words cutting right to the heart of his thoughts. 

            Tam
nudged Jimmy’s arm with her elbow, letting him know he may have gone just a bit
too far with the comment.  He knew he had when he saw the look on Jack’s face.

            “Hey,
what’s going on, Jack?  You can talk to us.” 

            “Thanks
Tam, but I really don’t feel like talking.”  Jack spoke without looking up from
the stick he was carving on with his pocket knife.  He had stripped nearly all
the bark from it, and was slowly sharpening it to a fine point.

            “Jack,
buddy, come on, we’re…”

            “Listen,
I said I don’t feel like talking.  I want to sit here, alone in the damn woods,
and whittle a stick.  Is that ok with you?”  Jimmy could hear the anger and
tension in Jack’s voice, could see it on his face, but he also heard an
undertone of desperation.

            Instead
of responding Jimmy leaned up against a tree opposite of Jack, and slid down to
sit on the thick mat of leaves.  He looked at Tam, asking with his eyes if she
would just let Jack talk.

            Jimmy
let the heavy silence hang in the air, waiting for his friend to speak.  Tam
stepped quietly to the side, leaning against another tree, out of Jack’s direct
line of sight.

            Turning
to look at Tam, then Jimmy, Jack let out a long sigh and hung his head.  “I
don’t know if I can do this, Jimmy.  I don’t know if I even want to.  Actually,
that’s a lie; I do know that I don’t want to do this.”

            Jimmy
kept his tongue, afraid to interject a question of any kind into Jack’s line of
thought.

            “I
told you about my wife, and how she died.  The cancer, and the long months of
pain.  Just before the end she was so wasted, both physically and mentally. 
Most of the time, right at the end, she didn’t recognize me.  She would lay
there in that bed, staring right through me, and every once in a while she
would try to lift her arm, her fingers just twitching before falling back to
the bed.

            “That’s
what I see every time I see one of these damn zombies.  The sunken blank eyes,
that vacant stare, the horrible moaning when the pain was just too much. 
Before she died Susan was a lot like one of those undead things.”

            Jack’s
voice began to break as tears filled his eyes.

            “I’m
glad she’s dead, Jimmy.  I can’t believe I’m even saying that.  I couldn’t have
imagined it would ever be possible to think it, but it’s true.  I’m glad she’s
dead and not here to live in this nightmare.”  Jack looked up at Jimmy; the
tears that had filled his eyes begin to spill over onto his face.

            “At
times I wish she were here, just so I could hold her, find a single damn second
of sanity in all this,” Jack’s voice was becoming thick as he forced the words
out around the painful knot in his throat.

            Jack
stopped, sucking in great breaths, collecting his thoughts.

            “We’re
the revenant’s now, Jimmy.  Not the gut-suckers, they own the world now.  We’re
the revenants of an America that once was, trying to scratch our way out of a
grave that was dug for us by other hands.  I can’t live like that.  I don’t
want to.”

            Jack’s
voice had become eerily calm, the last words spoken with such determined
clarity that it gave Jimmy and Tamara chills.

            Tam
broke the silence, saying, “Jack, it sounds like you want to…”

            “I
do Tam, but I can’t.  I’m weak, always have been, especially without Susan.  I
want to just sit here until I die, but I wouldn’t stay that way.  And I can’t
handle the thought of coming back, and one of you guys having to put me down.”

            “Jack,
I’m sorry man, that’s all I can say, really.  I won’t pretend to understand
what you’re feeling at the moment, but I do know that this isn’t easy and we
just have to rely on each other to get through it.”

            “Come
on back with us Jack; let’s go get some coffee and something to eat.”

            “Thanks
Tam, but I don’t feel like eating.  I’ll just stay here for a while; maybe meet
up with you at lunch.”

            “Jack,
Tam and I will sit right here with you until you’re ready to go back, but we
aren’t going to walk off and leave you alone.”

            Jack
looked at the couple and knew they would not relent.  He stood up, not
bothering to dust himself off and followed them back to the Camp.