American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow (7 page)

Chapter 10

            “I
wish we could use the truck,” Jack said, “I hate all this damn walking.”

            “We
all want to use the truck, but until we clear out some of this little town it’s
just too much of a risk with all the noise.  If we have to hunt zombies I’d
rather do it one or two at a time, rather than twenty or thirty all at once. 
Besides that, they need the truck for moving the railroad ties.  So, be nimble
Jack, and let’s hoof it.”

            Jack
looked over at Jimmy walking beside Mike and said, “Dick.”

            Jack
took on a sullen look while the others laughed.  He hated walking, and hoped
they would find some bicycles while they were out. 

            Gordy
had asked each of the men last night as they all huddled in the main hall at
the Camp if they would be willing to start working their way into Saverton in
the morning.  They were to look for the living dead, dispatching them if they
could, avoiding them if they could not.  Finding additional supplies was
important, but ensuring that there were no undead creatures lurking around took
precedence. 

            The
unincorporated township of Saverton had a population of less than seventy-five
people.  A small river community, it was spread out between small fields and
large gardens, giving the area a more open feel.  The people that chose to live
so far out from the larger towns enjoyed their privacy and quiet.

            “You
guys ever wonder why none of us got sick?”

            “You
know why, Jack.  As soon as we heard the reports about the sickness, or plague,
whatever you want to call it, we got everyone together.  It was obvious from
the beginning that there would be no stopping it.  That was the “It” moment
most of us had been preparing for.  Hunkering down in that old school is the
only thing that kept us all alive.”

            “Except
for Jenny,” Mike said.

            “Please,
man, I don’t even want to talk about that.  And whatever you do, I wouldn’t say
that name around Gordy,” Jimmy responded.

            By
the time the sickness had hit Hannibal, Gordy and the rest of the group had
been holed up in the old school for nearly a week.  The Tanner family and Jenny
Appleton were the only people that had not reported in yet. 

            Early
one morning, Sam had been on watch when he saw someone stumbling down the
darkened street.  He had been unable to tell at a distance who it was.  He had called
out for his father, and Gordy had come running down the hall, followed by
several others already awake at that hour.  Gordy took Sam’s binoculars,
watching the figure as it stumbled and shuffled its way up the street.

            After
watching for a few moments, Gordy realized who it was.  “It’s Jenny, but she
looks awful.  She’s sick; you can see it from here.”

            “Gordon,
we have to help her,” Jan told him as she headed for the door.

            “No,
Jan, we can’t and you know it.  Whatever this is there is no helping, only
dying.”

            Jan
had halted at the door, her head hung low as she realized the truth of her
husband’s words. 

            When
the young woman was close enough to hear a shout Gordy drew up the window and
yelled down to her.  “Jenny, you have to stop there, honey!”

            Gordy
had been unable to see the bloody tracks down her face, where the bleeding had
begun, until she looked up towards the sound of his voice.  “Mr. Fletcher, is
that you?  You have to help me,” she had cried, her voice weak and plaintive.

            Gordy
felt heartsick at what he was about to do.  “Jenny, sweetheart, there’s nothing
we can do for you.  You can’t come in here, or you’ll kill us all.  I’m so
sorry.  Please go home, Jenny.”

            Jenny
couldn’t hear his voice cracking as he shouted down to her, but the others in
the room could.  They all shared in the hurt that Gordy was feeling at that
very moment.  This young woman had been part of the group, part of the family
for many years.  She had stayed in town after her father had died two years
previous, because of this group, and what they meant to her.  She meant just as
much to them.

            Jenny
continued on towards the school, shuffling along slowly, barely able to stay on
her feet.  Gordy looked around to the others crowding around him and said, “I
can’t let her in.  I can’t even let her get close.”  Tears were running down
his face as he said it, and he felt his heart breaking as he reached for the
hunting rifle Sam had held while on watch.

            Kneeling
down at the window, Gordy sighted through the rifle scope, and fired a shot
directly in front of Jenny’s feet.

            The
woman fell over backwards, struggling to sit back up.  Everyone could hear her
cries for help, and not one heart remained unbroken from it.  “Please go home
Jenny!  We can’t help you!  There’s nothing we can do!” 

            As
Jenny slowly stood up, Gordy blinked back tears to center the crosshairs of the
scope on her grime streaked forehead.  He held the rifle on her as she stood
there swaying, knowing that should she take even one step forward he would have
to pull the trigger.

            She
continued to stand there swaying on her feet.  Gordy never moved the rifle, the
young woman’s head moving back and forth in the crosshairs.  Without another
word she turned, heading back down the street.  Gordy kept the rifle up,
watching through the scope as she went, following her until she stumbled past
the end of the street, onto Highway 79.

            Gordy
had turned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.  He handed the rifle
back to his son, his head hanging.  Jan quietly asked everyone to leave,
closing the door as the last person filed out.  She then went to her husband,
wrapping her arms around him tightly, and together they wept hard, unashamed
tears.

            Jack
looked at his friends, knowing they were both thinking about Jenny and the
horrible feelings that went with it.  It was a situation he hoped he would
never have to see repeated.

            The
first driveway they came to was on the right side of the road, it ran behind
one house with several small sheds, back to a two story house at the edge of
the woods.  They agreed to leave the first house until after they had cleared
the one at the end of the long drive.  They took their time getting back to the
end of the lane, watching the house behind them the entire time.

            They
approached the house cautiously, relieved that there were none of the small
outbuildings that most of the houses in the area seemed to have.  Beginning at
the front door all three men circled the entire house, watching the surrounding
woods as well as the house itself. 

            Jack
and Mike watched behind them as Jimmy knocked at the door softly, waited a
moment and knocked again harder, while calling out to anyone inside.  When
there was no noise or response from inside he tried the doorknob.  It turned
easily in his hand and he swung the door wide.  Stepping back, he raised the
Sig 9mm he was carrying, sighting on the open space of the doorway.

            They
stood waiting for a full minute before stepping into the quiet house.  The
three men methodically cleared each downstairs room, saving the search for
supplies until they knew the house was completely safe. 

            Gathering
at the base of the stairs, they hesitated, knowing that stairways and hallways
could be death traps.  Mike stepped forward, bringing his suppressed DPMS
Oracle up into the ready position.  “I’ll go first,” he whispered. 

            Safely
at the top of the steps he waved to his friends to come up.  The first door
they opened was a bathroom, the second a small hall closet.  The next door
opened onto a large bedroom, with a massive king size bed.  All three men
raised their weapons, pointing at the bodies that lay on the pastel coverlet. 

            It
was easy to see that the bodies would not rise up and attack them.  A man and
woman, both with fatal head-wounds lay slumped back against the pillows, hands
clasped in the center of the bed.  Dried gore from the gunshot wounds made
disturbing Rorschach images on the wall behind them.  A small caliber pistol
was still clutched in the woman’s hand, which had fallen to her lap after she
had pulled the trigger.  The man’s gun hand had flung out to the side, dropping
the large revolver he had used to the floor.

            “Fuck,”
Jack said, quickly backing out the room.

            Mike
and Jimmy finished checking the room, looking in the small bath and closet
before following Jack out into the hall.

            “You
ok?” Mike asked

            “Yeah,
I’ll be fine.  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to stuff like that.”

            “You
can’t get used to it,” Jimmy told him, “you just have to find a way to deal
with it, or look past it.”

            Jack
leaned against the wall, waiting for the usual smartass remark from Jimmy. 
Jimmy just looked at him, a hard set to his jaw.  Jack realized that his friend
felt as sickened and disturbed as he did, he simply pushed it to the side and
continued on.

            Moving
down the hall they checked each room they came to thoroughly.  A sewing and
craft room, another closet, a room used for storage.  They came to the last
door on the upstairs floor. 

            And
they just stood there.

            The
white door was covered with pictures drawn by a child’s hand.  Red plastic
capital letters spelled out the name RONNY. 

            “I
really don’t want to go in here, guys.” 

            “Neither
do we, Jack.  I’ll go in by myself, no reason for everyone to go.”

            Mike
placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as he was reaching for the knob.  “You
sure?”

            Without
reply Jimmy opened the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind
him.

            Jimmy
looked around the brightly painted child’s bedroom.  The usual scatter of toys,
a table with coloring books and crayons, and a small bookshelf filled with
books.  Looking past all that, he could see a faint lump beneath a blue blanket
covered in images of trucks of all shapes and sizes. 

            He
wanted to wait for just another moment before pulling back that blanket, as he
knew he must do to be certain of what lay beneath it.  Stalling, he first went
to the closet, opening the door slowly, pistol raised.  He wondered for a
moment if this closet ever featured in scary stories or bad dreams for the boy
that had slept here. 

He remembered the closet in his room, as a boy there
were times when he was sure that something hideous lived in his closet.  The
few times he ran to his father crying because the door had slowly swung open
after being closed, his father always taken the time to reassure him that
nothing lived in his closet.  He would always come and check it, then shut the
door once more. 

One morning, his father had come into his room while
he was playing, carrying his small tool box.  He didn’t ask what his dad was
doing, he just watched as the man used some different screwdrivers on the door
latch.  His father stood up, proclaiming the door was fixed and would not open
unless he turned the knob first. 

“It was just a loose catch Li’l Jim, nothing to worry
about.  No ghouls or ghosts or zombies in your closet.”

            “What’s
a zombie, Dad?”

            “A
nasty old thing, rotten from the grave and all they do is eat people up.” 

            He
remembered his mother calling from the other room, “James Ely Mitchell, don’t
say that to him!  Good grief, you’ll give him nightmares.”

            Jimmy
stood looking into the open closet, filled with the toys and clothes of a young
boy.  A single small tear rolled down his face, sadness not just for the loss
of the little boy in the bed, but for the little boy he had once been.

            The
rest of the room was clear, and he could stall no longer.  Stepping up to the
bed, he gripped the edge of the whimsically decorated blanket and lifted it
just enough to see underneath. 

            The
parents in the other room must have watched their young boy die, the sickness
taking him quickly but with much pain.  After tucking their little boy in
safely one last time, Jimmy could see them climbing into bed together, holding
hands and ending the nightmare that had come to life in their home.

            Jimmy
rejoined his friends waiting in the hall and declared the room and the house
cleared.  Taking a few pillowcases from the hall linen closet, they went
through the bathrooms and kitchen looking for medications as well as anything
else useful.  Once they had checked every room, including the garage, they left
the house, closing the front door tightly behind them. 

            The
next house was empty of any inhabitants, living, dead, or living dead.  They
quickly went through the rooms, adding to the pillowcases, which were already
becoming cumbersome.