The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living (23 page)

“Next time? Let's hope not...”

Reaching into a cabinet, Kell produced a full bottle of bourbon. “Take a look at the world around you, Will. There's always going to be a next time. Difference is, you won't rush to make the same decision when it happens.”

After Kell poured, Will picked up the half-full glass. “Damn right I won't.”

For Kell, everything seemed frozen. Knowing they would be leaving eventually and really understanding the fact on an emotional level were two different things. Will was as good as his word; he gave them supplies and transport, manned by the people in Kell's group.

From his perspective, however, the only sign of change were the people in the camp slowly disappearing. One day a tent would be gone, packed away as they made the move to Iowa, bringing supplies and helping the others turn their new home into something capable of supporting all of them. Kell did little other than plan. He could have left at any time, but he would have rather cut off an arm than lose the opportunity to study Josh's physiology while he was healing.

The days crept by, slowly growing into weeks. The peace with the UAS became more solid, but as it did the few cracks became more visible. All over the Union border—and within the territory held by the UAS—small splinter groups broke away from their small nation. Some took to the roads to found their own communities, others became little more than marauders. A few still fought those they saw as enemies, blind to the facts.

With a large force of well-armed people seeing to the defense of New Haven, including the construction of a huge barrier to allow for extensive farming around the entire place, Kell felt safe for the first time in many years. There were still jobs to do, but they were piddly things. Most of the time he read or studied, with the occasional patrol to keep his defenses sharp.

It was only on the eve of their departure that Kell truly believed they would be leaving. He stepped out of the RV and noted the lack of any other members of the group. Every tent was gone, the few small buildings empty. The fire pit was cold, unused for days. The grill they had built as a group was dark and unused. The picnic table had been taken apart and whisked away.

Lee and Laura were seeing to last-minute details. Josh and Jess were packing up the things they would be taking with them, giving away what they wouldn't. Which would be the majority, of course. Funny how things had changed, when you looked at it in terms of material possessions. A scant few years before, it would have torn at people to leave behind the accumulated
stuff
of a lifetime. Kell thought of it less as a loss of value in those items than a gain in perspective about what truly mattered.

You worked your fingers to the bone at a job to pay for that couch, to build that comic book collection. But when it came down to the heart of things, you couldn't care less about them when you might carry a photo album filled with goodbye letters from people you had fought and bled with.

Staring at the vacant space, Kell briefly considered finding Kate. Unless something went horribly wrong, he wouldn't come back here for a long, long time. Years of friendship carried a kind of emotional momentum, the heart being an illogical thing. He found himself missing her in the way a grown man pines for the halcyon days of his youth he knows he can never get back.

And like that man, he realized they might never have existed.

The romantic in him wanted a goodbye. He wanted closure on good terms. It might not be a storybook ending, he reasoned, but still a positive one both chose.

Kell went back inside.

Life is that way sometimes. People fight. They drift apart. They discover differences too wide to bridge, chasms too deep to fill. It was a little sad, but not heartbreaking. It happened, and you could either roll with it or get beat down.

“Things change,” he muttered to himself as he got back to work.

For Kell, there wasn't a goodbye party. The only close friends he had were either going with him or already at his destination. There were a few people he said goodbye to in the early hours of the morning as their small convoy readied itself, but no heartfelt scenes, no tears. Those few people who he had spent at least some time with wished him well, and that was the long and short of it.

Which was not to say there wasn't a sendoff. Just not for him.

The RV and the rest of the vehicles waited near the gate, surrounded by dozens of people. Lee and Laura were there, quietly waiting by the door of the motor home as Kell returned from his quick jaunt around New Haven.

“Quite a crowd,” he said in a low voice as he joined them, leaning against the RV.

“They made a lot of friends,” Laura said, nodding toward Josh and Jess, who stood twenty feet away.

Will Price stepped forward from the gathering, putting up his hands for silence. The exchange of well-wishes and hugs trailed off. Will did a slow turn, eyes meeting with every person as if to remember the moment exactly. Eventually he returned to his starting point, facing the parting couple with a smile full of genuine love.

“I don't make speeches,” Will said with a chuckle. “And I'm shit at goodbyes. But I'm here, with all these people, to thank you. When everything started to fall apart and people everywhere ran, you stood your ground. When others started becoming fearful of their neighbors, you took people in. The worst of us set out to destroy, to take, and to kill. You reminded us that together, we can build, share, and protect. It's selfish to be sad right now, but I'm guilty. You're leaving to pioneer, which is only possible because you two helped create a community successful enough to allow it. We're proud of you, and we'll miss you.”

Josh looked embarrassed, fidgeting uncomfortably as he listened. To Kell's great amusement, Jess took the compliments with a fierce pride on her face, nodding along in agreement. Probably more for the sake of her husband getting credit than herself, but it still made him smile.

“On a more personal note,” Will said, “you two saved my life. No, don't shake your head. You did. I was hated, forced to live on the kindness of others. You fought for me. You believed in me when I was at my worst. Without you, I wouldn't be in the position I'm in today, which is, as the governor of this community, the power to grant you permission to leave and begin your new life. Your responsibility as citizens are now officially lifted.”

He raised his voice, the tone of command so familiar to Kell ringing out. “But remember you always have a place here. This is your home. You're welcome any time, for any reason. If there is ever anything we can do to help, we'll answer the call. Thank you for everything you've done.”

There was a round of applause, and more than a few people wiping their eyes. Kell wasn't as steeped in the history of the place as the rest of them. For him it was a matter of historical fact, however recent, dry data divorced from having lived through it as they had. Still, he understood. It was easy to lionize people who had been there for you during the worst possible times, and hard to watch them walk away.

The gathering would have lasted for a long time, Kell was certain, but for Will's insistence the party be allowed to get underway. It would be a long drive to where they were going, and every minute of daylight they didn't spend driving was a minute wasted.

“For someone who doesn't give speeches, that wasn't a bad one,” Lee said as the crowd began to disperse.

“Notice he didn't bring up the part where he'll be sending scouts and supplies our way regularly,” Laura added.

“Because he doesn't want anyone to know our little community is anything more than a farming camp,” Kell said.

“Damn right I don't,” Will said from behind Kell. “I don't know what would happen if anyone suspected you were there working on a cure, but I'd rather not find out.”

Kell turned to find Will with his hand extended. He clasped it and shook.

“Keep me updated as best you can,” Will said. “We're working on arranging communications beyond messages carried by scouts, but until then...”

“Use one of the codes you gave me. Yes, I remember,” Kell said.

Will winked. “And even then, nothing too specific. Oh, before I forget; there's a little going-away present for you in the RV. Just something to say thank you, and good luck.”

He nodded to Lee and Laura, stepping away to give his friends one last embrace before they left. Kell raised an eyebrow at his companions, but Laura shrugged and Lee shook his head.

Kell stepped inside the RV. His spear sat in its rack—actually a rack for pool cues, pilfered from a bowling alley—but it was no longer alone. That weathered piece of aluminum had suffered through more than three years of work. There were nicks and scratches along its entire length, which was less than when he had started out since the tip had broken off the year before. At some point it had taken a glancing blow from a bullet, notching a half-melted groove a foot away from the butt. That simple piece of bar stock, sharpened and given to him by a stranger who had taken a risk and saved his life, had itself saved him time and again.

The rack was filled with spears. Seven new ones, all gleaming, all perfect. There were two of wood, fire-hardened, stained, and lacquered to a mirror finish. Three others were aluminum of different lengths and thicknesses, the dull gray both alien in its unmarred freshness and familiar at the same time. The other two were steel, smoky and smooth as glass.

A note was tied to his original weapon with a piece of thread.

“What does it say?” Lee asked.

Kell handed him the note.

“
The world is a dangerous place,
” Lee read. “
A spear is a good weapon for it, because it can be used to kill, but also defend. It can be used to hunt. It isn't just a tool for taking human lives. Yours has seen better days, so I thought you could use some spares. I would say to use them wisely, but I know you will. I would say not to raise them in anger or without understanding the consequences of using them, but I know you won't. I promise not to, either.
”

Lee gave Kell a puzzled look. “What does that mean?”

“That he'll think before he starts a fight,” Kell said. “I can explain it in detail on the road. God knows we'll have plenty of time to talk.”

The trip was mostly without incident, which shouldn't have come as a surprise given the well-marked trail of scout signs left by the many people who had made it before them. Drawn by the smell of so many living people passing through, there were more than the average number of zombies, but not so many they couldn't drive on. They took their time, though at one point they discovered one of the renegade UAS splinter groups following quite a distance behind.

Rather than fight, they engaged in some creative navigating and lost their pursuers. Lee doubled back to make sure.

About forty miles from their destination, the orange markers on the trees and signs changed. Gone were the originals, pained over into solid blobs of colors. New ones took their place, directing them to a different location.

“Any idea what this is?” Kell asked as he slowed the RV to double check the markings.

“No,” Laura grunted, “but those are definitely the real thing. You can see the pattern.”

She was right, of course. Every marker had a small pattern of what looked like random sprays of paint to ensure they weren't being led into a trap. To anyone else, they appeared to be excess dust similar to the outside edge of a stencil.

“I remember how to get to the house,” Kell said. “Do we go there, or follow the new route?”

“Do you think someone wants to meet us in a location away from the farm? Maybe to make sure we're not followed?” Lee asked.

Laura nodded appreciatively. “Or there might be a road out, though they would have put up the symbol for that...I say we follow the new ones. Carefully, just in case.”

“I'll go up top,” Lee said.

“Probably a good idea,” Kell agreed. He heard the other man pull down the ladder leading to the roof hatch, then settle onto the top of the RV after climbing. He had seen Lee shoot with a scoped rifle before. Kell didn't envy their enemies, if this was a trap.

They followed markers, heading another twenty miles north and thirty west of their original destination. He worried about being able to find wherever it was they were going, but once they turned onto an old dusty country road as the marker instructed, his worries evaporated.

Lots of little facts caught up with him at once. This area was far more remote than the previous location. The roads were barely populated by homes, nearly all of the land made up of huge, overgrown farmland. What homes they did spy were themselves very large, the sort of sprawling places you knew held rooms for hired hands, maybe even servants. It would take a dedicated search to wander so far away from any main road.

In a world lacking in resources such as fuel and easy food, and rich in deadly threats, such a search could easily in in tragedy. This place might as well be on Mars for the privacy it would give them.

The red planet had never seen structures, much less anything like the one which brought a smile to Kell's face as it came into view.

A large farmhouse dominated the flat terrain, several large trees shading it. There were two floors, with what looked like a partial third floor or attic room. The thing was huge, as far as houses went, stretching more than twice the width of Josh's house and deeper by far. Big as it was, the barn behind it and to the left dwarfed the house. The tops of several other structures could be glimpsed beyond them, but the land wasn't quite as flat as it appeared, slowly rolling down and away.