Hell's Children: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (15 page)

T
ony dropped
him off and tore away like someone was shooting at him. The girls from the day before were out on the porch. The shorter of the two had replaced her meat clever with a rifle. Both were aiming steadily at him.

The dog wasn’t in the yard this time. Jack could hear it inside barking nonstop.

“Don’t shoot!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

“We read your note, boy.” This from the girl who’d spoken the first day. “You ain’t touching our stock. They’re all we got left.”

The animals stood off in a field to the left of the house, nibbling on the meager pasture. About thirty of them.

“But you have so many,” he said, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt. “Oh, and by the way, my name’s Jack
.
”

The girl spit. “Your name’s what I say it is until I feel like changing it. That okay with you, Boy?”

Nodding—smiling his best don’t-shoot-me smile—he said, “Sure, absolutely. But please, if you wouldn’t mind aiming that gun away, I’d really appreciate it. I’ve got this nutty fear of my head exploding like a water balloon. Everyone ribs me for it, but I’m basically immune to ribbing. Bullets, not so much.”

The shorter girl put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

“Shut up, Carla,” the taller one said. “Don’t be fooled. He’s trying to steal our cows like them others, and there you are mooning after him? Just like sixth grade. Boys on the brain. That’s all you are.”

Others? What others?

Carla’s voice was high and sweet, with even more country twang than her friend. “Why can’t we bring him in? It’s cold out. He ain’t got no friends with him, and he
is
cute. We never have no one over now, and I miss company.”

Jack said, “My arms are getting tired. Can I at least lower them? Or lie down flat and hold them out like Superman?”

Carla giggled again. “Oh, Freida, he’s funny. Let him go, come on.” As if proving a point, she lowered her gun.

Jack risked a slight bow, hoping to further endear himself to the friendlier one. “So, like the note said, we don’t want to
take
your cows. That’s why we’re
asking
. All the herds we’ve found have been killed or are too far away.” He smiled. “You two have the best cows we’ve seen yet.”

It was true. Tony said these were the healthiest-looking and most abundant cows in the area. If the girls decided to pass on a deal, they’d look elsewhere. Disappointing, because the farm was so close to Big Timber.

“I helped my daddy sometimes,” Freida said, her tone softening a little. “And I got a good memory. Most of the work’s just common sense. The reason they’re not skinny is because we got land, and after you know … the disease … we opened the gates so they could spread around.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought. “Truth is, we still got too many. No feed, no hay, just what’s growing, and that’s about gone.” She went quiet for a bit, seeming to think it over. “So what kinda stuff you trading?”

She pointed her gun away, and Jack tentatively lowered his hands.

“Plenty,” he said, trying not to crack a tooth from grinning too widely. “Mind if I come in?”

Freida stared at him a moment more, her face alternating between hope and stubbornness. Then she nodded. “Carla, put Max out back so he don’t kill him.”

* * *

T
he girls’ home
was spacious and nicely furnished, with antique-looking tables and chairs, and wallpaper patterned in intricate silver, blue, and green filigree. Golden light glinted off the polished furniture under the radiance of old-fashioned lanterns. Everything looked beautiful except for the ornate rug, now dull from months of use with no vacuum to clean it.

There were four other survivors in the house, all much younger, ranging between three and maybe six or seven years old. They stared fearfully at Jack, and two of them started crying, forcing the girls to take a few minutes to calm them down before sending them upstairs to play.

“Wow,” Jack said. “Big family.”

Freida glared at him. “They ain’t family. And don’t act like you don’t know how many of us there are after your friends pushed in here, taking what’s ours.
Now
you wanna trade.” She snorted. “You tell them buttholes we’ll be ready next time—with this.” She shook her rifle in case he hadn’t seen it already.

Carla stepped between them. “Dang it, Freida, can’t you see he’s not with them? He came in a truck, not a slick car with flags on it.” She turned to Jack. “She’s still smarting from last time. They killed two of our nicest cows—cut off the legs and left the rest. We cooked as much as we could, but it didn’t last long.”

Noting she’d used the word
our
in reference to the cows, he said, “So you two are sisters?”

Carla smiled. “I got the boobs in the family. Can’t you tell?” She thrust out her small chest for him to see.

Jack swallowed and glanced nervously at Freida.

Sighing, she said, “Leave the boy alone, you rat. Okay, Jack, what do you got that we don’t?”

“We have plenty to trade, don’t worry. But first, what’s this about flags on cars?”

The two girls looked at each other, then back at him.

Carla said, “They call themselves
Dragsters
. So stupid. What they gonna do when they run out of gas, hmm? Walk around going vroom-vroom-vroom? If they had any brains they’d save every drop, but they don’t. I went to town one time to look in on a friend. My friend …” Briefly, she looked like she might cry. Then she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Well … he didn’t make it. Anyway, when I went there, they was tearing up and down the street bumping into each other and raising hell.”

“You’ve met them, haven’t you?” Freida said. She held up a hand at his rising protest. “I know now you’re not with them, don’t worry. How’d it happen?”

Quickly, Jack recounted his trip to the library with Lisa. He didn’t leave anything out.

Carla frowned. “Who’s this
Lisa?
Your sister?”

Freida threw her a disgusted look and shook her head. To Jack, she said, “You sure showed those fools. Sorry about your books, though.”

Jack shrugged. “We replaced them. So what kind of stuff do you need?”

For the next half hour, Freida and Jack went back and forth on everything the girls needed. Soap, shampoo, and stuff for cooking were high on the list. The biggest item was feed for the cows and chickens. The chickens were free ranging at this point, but she worried about the winter. The cows had run out of grazable pasture and were living mostly off their fat. Jack said he had some feed, but not enough for twenty cows.

At their crestfallen looks, he added, “But there’s someone in our group who knows where we can get more. Not sure how much, just that it’s a lot. If we can get you some, you think you might be able to offer up two cows? Maybe some eggs?”

Freida smiled. “If you can feed our herd through the winter, you got a deal. Now, how do you feel about potatoes?”

Jack shook his head. “We can’t get anything like that. Just—”

“Not you,” she said. “
Us
. We have plenty. They grew wild at a neighbor’s farm over the summer.”

With this latest development, the negotiations launched anew. Potatoes, it turned out, didn’t come cheap anymore. The going rate was five rolls of toilet paper per potato, or two rolls and a tube of toothpaste, or possibly one roll and a box of laundry soap.

At one point, honking sounded from outside, causing both girls to seize up in sudden terror. Jack looked out the window and said, “It’s only my ride. You mind if he comes in?”

Carla came around and looked out. “Oh, Freida, he’s black!”

Jack looked at her strangely. “Is that a problem?”

She looked faintly embarrassed. “I was just letting her know is all.”

If she had a problem with Tony being black, her head would explode when Brad came down to help build the smoker.

Freida threw him an apologetic glance, then went to the door to wave in Tony. “Come on in. It’s cold out, huh?”

Tony stared wild-eyed between Carla, Jack, and Freida.

“Yeah,” he said, looking pointedly at Jack. “When we leaving?”

“In a minute. Go and sit down with Carla. Get to know each other.”

Carla smiled shyly and led him over to the couch.

Freida stepped into the kitchen and motioned for Jack to follow.

“Don’t mind my sister,” she said. “She’s no racist. She just don’t know too many folks that ain’t white.”

Jack nodded politely. “So here’s the thing: we have a place a few miles from here. It’s secret. Lots of children and some teenagers. Normally I’d beg you and Carla to come out and join us, but you have something we don’t:
cows
, and a place to keep them. But you also have a problem.”

She snorted. “The Dragsters, no feed, not enough wood for winter, a leaky roof …”

“Okay, lots of problems,” he said. “I want to help you because I think you’d make good allies. We need beef for today, but we also need to ensure more for the future. Slaughtering them without a plan makes no sense at all.”

“You going somewhere with this?”

“Yep. With your permission, I’d like to station a couple of our people here with a CB. I’d also like to better arm you two and train you a little. We’ll set up the smoker outside and share whatever we preserve with you. And we’ll get you enough wood for the winter. How’s that sound?”

Freida went quiet for a time, and Jack wondered if maybe he’d been too forward. It had to have been traumatic, the Dragsters barging in and shooting their livestock like that.

Just as he was about to tone down his suggestion for fear of messing up their original deal, she said, “I think God must have sent you down to us, Jack.” Her eyes turned glossy with tears and she wiped them. “Yes. A thousand times,
yes
.”

They spent a few more minutes going over logistics. During that time, she told him more about their root cellar. In addition to potatoes, they’d managed to store preserves over the summer, and she offered to send some back with him. When he accepted, she also asked if she could send back the children upstairs.

Jack’s eyes widened. “I thought they were family.”

Freida snorted. “Heck no. Neighbors’ kids, all of them. The older ones cry a lot at night. The younger ones take it better.”

Lisa had mentioned the same thing, how the younger ones seemed mostly to have recovered, whereas she, Molly, and Olivia still cried themselves to sleep sometimes. When she’d asked if he sometimes cried, Jack categorically assured her he did
not
.

“There’s plenty of room,” he said. “We’ll unload the wood we brought and put them in the back with blankets when we leave. They’ll fit right in. We’re setting up a school. We want everyone reading and learning as quickly as possible.”

“Could I get some of those books you picked up?” Freida said. “I used to love reading. Must have read everything in the house a thousand times already and I’m going crazy.”

Jack laughed. “Sure, if you don’t mind nonfiction. We can get different books on a future run. Right now, there’s too much to do.”

She nodded. “That’d be great. Something on farming would be nice. I can get seeds from Jesse’s farm—that’s one of the boys upstairs.”

Smiling ear to ear, he said, “I think we’ll make great partners, Freida. Now I’m doubly happy you didn’t blow my head off out there.”

They shared a quick laugh, then Jack said he and Tony had to get back.

When they returned to the living room, the new friends were halted by an alarming sight: Tony and Carla lip-locked on the couch, eyes closed, oblivious to anyone and anything.

That is, until Jack—barely concealing his laughter—cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “
BOOO!
”

T
he next day
, Jack, Steve, and Lisa approached a farmhouse a few miles north of the 66-81 split. It was here, Steve said, where the Dragsters had their stash of grain, and it was always guarded.

“You there, Greg?” Jack whispered into his new walkie-talkie, recently scavenged from a Radio Shack in Gainesville.

“You gotta say
over
, Jack, I keep telling you,” Greg said. “
Over
. See? That’s how you know someone’s done talking.”

“
You
didn’t say over,” Jack said, still not tired of the joke. He turned to the others squatting behind him in the dark. “Looks pretty clear, doesn’t it?”

The farmhouse was at least a hundred yards from the silo and tractors and other farm equipment. But to get into and out of the property, Greg would need to come up the road, through a gate, then circle around behind the house. In the front were several cars and trucks, one of which looked speedy and impractical. Dark as it was, Jack couldn’t see a flag, but knew it had one.

“You sure there’s only two people inside?” he said, eyeing the candlelit side window.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Steve whispered. “Least that’s how it was before.”

They’d parked down the road, then crept in on foot and crossed a barbed-wire fence about twenty yards down. A precaution in case someone was watching out the front window. The field was barren in parts and overgrown with dried cornstalks in others. Jack figured the farmer had gotten about half the yield in before the Sickness took him.

Lisa looked worried. “Run this plan by me again?”

“One second,” he said and looked at Steve. “We shouldn’t expect anyone else tonight, right? Just who’s already there?”

Steve nodded. “When I was out here, we were pretty much on our own. During the day, others would come to get feed or just to hang out. The town’s pretty much screwed for good food, and all the nearby places with cattle have already been … well you know. Picked over. There’s another group out in Winchester, and they sometimes come by and trade for stuff we kill. Pretty sure they don’t kill anything out there, because one time they showed up with jugs of milk.”

Not for the last time, Jack questioned the wisdom of bringing someone into the group who’d participated in such abject stupidity and waste. He was curious about this Winchester group, though. Sounded like they had their act together.

“Right,” he said in a neutral tone. “Okay, I’ll approach from this side and peek through the window, see where everyone is. You two cover me while I bang on the front door and say hello. If they don’t want to come out, that’ll suck a little, but it’s still doable—we’ll just be here longer while we get the bags loaded. A little more risk, but not too much. Cold as it is, I doubt anyone will come out here at night.”

Steve snorted. “Totally.”

Lisa said, “I don’t like it. What if they shoot through the door?”

“I’ll stand off to the side,” Jack said. “Then I’ll reason with them. I’m very reassuring sometimes. Charming, even.”

She didn’t smile the way he wanted her to, but she didn’t raise any more objections, either.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll be around in a minute. Get to your spots.”

Lisa and Steve crossed the field ahead of him, heading for positions in the front yard facing the entrance. Jack crept to the window.

As he approached, a sense of dread stole over him. It was one thing to risk himself like this. Quite another to endanger Lisa. Then again, he didn’t have much choice if they wanted to eat. Not unless he stooped to stealing. And no, he didn’t consider what he was doing here stealing—it was taking back. They’d stolen his car and burned his books. Bunch of Nazis, if you asked him.

When he was under the window, he raised his head up for a look, but didn’t see anyone inside. A kitchen window, as it turned out, and there was a lit candle on the counter. More light came from another room. Maybe whoever was there had gone to sleep without blowing out the candles.

Typical
, he thought. But it posed a problem. Waking up from a sound sleep, they’d be shocked and afraid if someone came pounding on the door in the night.

Just as he was about to head around to let Lisa and Steve know, someone walked through his field of vision—a girl about Jack’s age, and she was
naked
.

Until that night, Jack had never seen an in-person naked girl before. He’d seen breasts in an R-rated movie about the Holocaust with his parents, but that was it.

Greg had told him some interesting facts about sex from one of his rogue trips onto the Internet at a friend’s house. Greg’s family had the Internet, but it was locked down tightly. Jack’s family locked it down, too, but not because of nudity. His parents wanted him learning the old-fashioned way—through books, trial and error, and thinking through his problems. Not by Googling. They’d told him about sex once, but not with near enough detail as Greg had. His parents’ description had been mechanical and bland, delivered quickly and—now that he thought back—nervously. Greg’s tale had been drawn out and deliciously lurid.

The girl in the kitchen paused briefly. She folded her arms and hugged herself. Then her shoulders shook quietly, making him think she was laughing about something. A second later he changed his mind. She wasn’t laughing—she was crying.

Through the closed window, Jack heard a male voice yell something in anger, but couldn’t make out the words. A second later, a boy about the same age walked in, also naked.

Jack couldn’t believe it. Naked people everywhere.

He left the window and went to the front door, looking for and finding the shapes of his friends crouched in the dark. Carefully, he reached down and tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. He wasn’t supposed to just barge in, but nothing could be simpler and safer than getting the drop on them with their pants down. Literally.

Hoping Lisa would roll with it, he raised his rifle to the door knob, looked away, and fired a round—then nearly dropped his gun when the knob flew off and banged painfully against his shin. Desperately, he checked to see if he’d been hit by anything else, but felt fine. He still remembered the fate of the kid who’d shot the safe at the Welcome Center. They hadn’t found a body, but they’d seen the blood trail.

He tried the door, but it didn’t budge. Wincing, worried he might hit an artery, but committed to the entry, he angled his gun so the bullet would ricochet into the jamb and fired another round. Again, he was fine, and his kick to the door sent it flying inward.

Without stopping to see if the others were following, Jack entered with his gun raised. There was an ascending flight of stairs on his left, a short hall in front of him, a rustic-looking living room just across from the kitchen, and his Peeping Tom window over on the left.

“Down on the ground!” he shouted unnecessarily at the boy and girl lying terrified on a sleeping bag.

“Don’t shoot!” the boy cried, covering his head.

The girl was content to scream and cover herself. A detached part of Jack’s awareness noted that both her eyes were red and puffy.

The boy found his spine a second later. “What the … Who the hell are you? Do you know who I am?”

Jack smirked. “You must be Mr. and Ms. naked. Any more of the Naked family upstairs?”

The boy glared at him and pulled more of the sleeping bag from the girl, who tugged it back angrily.

“Leave her some, would you?” Jack said, angling his gun at him.

“Man, you got no idea who you’re messing with.”

“Whew, huh?”

A second later, Lisa and Steve burst through the door—her aiming, him with fists raised. They stopped abruptly when they saw Jack’s prisoners.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lisa said. “You were supposed to knock. Not shoot the stupid door! You trying to get killed?”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, then felt himself shoved aside when Steve launched himself at the boy.

“I’ll kill you!” Steve shouted.

The girl shrieked, leapt up—still naked, Jack noted—and ran deeper into the house.

“Stay here,” Lisa said, and tore after her.

“Dude, back off!” Jack shouted at Steve, reaching for him.

“I’m gonna kill him!”

Steve was the only one in the group who’d come unarmed—because Jack hadn’t yet put him through a safety course. He was here as a guide only. That didn’t stop him, though. He punched and kicked and swore at the boy, who was doing his best not to get hit.

Jack broke his own safety rule, aimed at the couch, and pulled the trigger. The sound in the enclosed space was shockingly loud, and he wished he’d thought to cover his ears. The results, however, were successful—the boys separated, eyes widened in terror.

“Knock it off!” Jack roared, pressing his psychological advantage.

“Jack?” Lisa shouted from the other room.

“Just a warning shot!” He looked at Steve. “You two know each other?”

Steve spit. Not to the side, like they did in movies, but directly onto the naked boy. “I know he’s a snake and a rapist. If I had a gun I’d shoot him dead, after what he did to Molly.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You knew he’d be up here, didn’t you?”

Steve shrugged. “Thought he might. He comes here a lot to …” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Still doesn’t change the fact we need the grain out back. Shouldn’t matter, me knowing.”

“What I do is my business, traitor,” Carter said.

Jack shifted his aim. “You shut up.”

The boy just glowered.

Lisa came in pushing the runaway girl in front of her. The girl now had on pants and a shirt, and was carrying more clothes in her arms. She tossed them at Carter—none too gently—and then sat when Lisa told her to.

“Easy,” Jack said when the boy looked like he might try to hit her. “Dress yourself. Don’t stand up.”

Carter pulled the sleeping bag over him and scooted around under it as he got dressed.

“So you’re Carter, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“You really a snake and a rapist like Steve says?”

“He is!” Steve said, fists clenched. “He raped Molly! Look at Trisha’s face!”

“No I didn’t! I didn’t do anything!”

Jack considered the girl, now crying quietly on the couch. “What did he do to you?”

Trisha shrugged. “N-nothing. I let him.”

“What about your face?”

“We were just playing,” Carter said. “She hurt herself. Tell him, Trisha.”

In response, Trisha cried harder and didn’t say anything else. Steve swore.

Lisa said, “What happened to her eyes? Did you hit her?”

He snorted like it was obvious. “She came here on her own, like they all do. Trisha just falls down a lot.”

“Carter’s the head of the Dragsters,” Steve said. “Stupid name, by the way. Everyone says so.” He paused, panting, gritting his teeth. “Molly didn’t wanna take the pill or screw him anymore so he threw her out.”

“See? I didn’t rape anybody. Just gave her a choice.”

“Some choice—have sex with your ugly ass or starve.”

Carter smirked. “How’s my baby doing?”

Steve roared and tried to kick him, only to be held back by Lisa, shouting at him to calm down.

She threw Jack a look that said,
Do something, will you?

Carter said, “You’re kidding me. You actually told them it was
yours?
You’re still a virgin!”

When Steve redoubled his efforts to murder him, Jack shouted, “Steve, enough! Carter, open your mouth again and I’m beating the shit out of you. Now get up.” When Trisha started to rise, he added, “Just him. Lisa, you all right here?”

She nodded wearily, her face a wash of concern and outrage.

Jack pulled out his walkie-talkie and said, “Greg, come on down.”

“Copy that. Over.”

When Greg arrived, he didn’t stop out front—he backed his pickup to the silo, per the plan, then took out several big boxes of contractor bags. Jack and Steve—prodding Carter—joined him a minute later.

“Start loading,” Jack told Carter. “Don’t make them too heavy. About halfway per bag. Fill up the truck.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Carter said. Then he laughed. “That’s what this is about?” He looked at Steve. “You just can’t stop stealing from me, can you?”

“This is for those books you burned and the car you stole,” Jack said. “And the cattle you took from Carla and Freida. They’re under my protection, by the way. Anyone messes with them gets dead pretty quick.”

Much as he hated saying so, he meant it. He’d kill to protect the sisters and their farm.

“Oh yeah? Who the hell are you?”

Greg grinned, enjoying the show. “He is the one they call
Jack
, and he is the Chosen One. We’re Jack’s Rippers—the biggest, baddest, deadliest gang this side of the Sickness.”

Jack stared at Greg in shock.
Jack’s Rippers?

“Just start loading,” he said, shaking his head. “Do a good job and I won’t sic Steve on you. Or that girl you beat up.”

Still glowering, Steve said, “Do a bad job.
Please
. I’m begging you.”

Carter looked from Steve to Greg and then to Jack, not finding any mercy in their eyes. Then he nodded, took the bag they gave him, walked over to an upturned plastic bin, and wrapped the bag around the nozzle. When he released a catch, the bag began filling with grain. He stopped it a little more than halfway and said, “Here?”

Greg went over and hefted it. “Could probably go a little more.”

Scowling, Carter filled it a little more, tied it off, and started on the next one.