The No Where Apocalypse (Book 1): Stranded No Where (17 page)

“First thing we need to do is get over to meet the boss,” he explained. He stopped beyond the guards, acting as if I might be lethal or something.

“Okay, let’s get moving then.” I turned to find Violet already standing next to me, stroking the snarls out of her long hair with her boney fingers. “We’re ready.”

There were small movements in his face as he studied Violet. “She stays, you come.”

“Not going to happen, Matt,” I answered plainly. “I need to make sure she’s safe at all times. That means she needs to stay with me.”

He shook away my logic. “No, boss said just you.”

Tense moments passed as Matt and I stared at one another. Stroking my beard, I came up with a new tactic.

“Have someone run and get this boss of yours,” I stated, seeing the doubt in Matt’s eyes. “I need to make sure Violet stays safe. You can’t blame me for that.”

He glanced at one of his followers and tossed his head back towards the center of town. I was going to meet the boss, on my terms.

What I assumed would take a half hour ended up taking less than five minutes. The guard with saggy blue jeans and a sweat-stained tee shirt had barely disappeared when he came back with another man at his side.

This man was not what I expected. I thought beard, dark clothes, low dipping hat. This was anything but that.

“Mr. Reiniger,” the man about my age exclaimed. “Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand my way. “I’m Stuart Callies, but please call me Stu. All of my friends do.”

I’m not sure what shocked me the most; the clean-shaven face, dark hair cut short and freshly washed? Maybe the baby blue button down dress shirt, matched with a pair of clean skinny jeans. This was not what I had anticipated for
the boss
.

When I stepped out of the shed, I noticed he was shorter than me, substantially. Like six inches or more. Napoleon Bonaparte instantly came to mind. But unlike the dour French general, this man had a charming air about him.

“Bob,” I said, shaking his tightly gripped hand. “Bob Reiniger.”

His genuine smile, and white sparkling teeth made me feel at ease, but only for a second. A look he gave me told me he was on a mission of some sort.

“I understand we have a question?” he continued, relaxing my hand finally. “How can I help facilitate a solution?”

This was no dummy. And I had miscalculated my opponent. I needed to sober up to the situation at hand.

“They said you wanted to me with me and me alone,” I replied. “I don’t want Violet out of my sight, though.”

He nodded thoughtfully, even bringing a well-manicured hand to his chin. “I’d like to discuss several things with you,
alone
.” He emphasized alone as if it were a coded word. A word that only he and I understood and I had no idea why.

“You can appreciate where I’m coming from, Stu, can’t you?” I hoped by adding his requested name he would see it my way.

“Here’s the thing, Bob, I have a certain way I like to do things. It helps this place run smoother.” He glanced past me back at Violet. “When people don’t follow orders, or simple requests in this case, it makes me edgy. Almost like I can’t trust them.”

We stared at one another for a brief moment before he continued. “I assure you, with my life if necessary, that no harm will come to the girl. I’ll even bring out one of my female soldiers to keep her company if you’d like. But you and I need to talk alone.”

I wasn’t getting my way that was for sure. And his veiled threat was plain: we will do this his way.

I gave Violet my full attention. “Are you okay with this? It shouldn’t take but a few minutes, maybe an hour?”

The blue shirt appeared at my side. “She has to be fine with this, Bob. She wants you safe, no doubt. You want her safe. And the only way either of you leaves here alive is if we do it my way. So let’s go. Cindy will be here in a minute; I’ve already sent for her.”

So much for subtlety on his part.

She nodded once as Stu took my arm and led me away. The fear in her eyes remained locked inside her soul. She wouldn’t scream or put up a fuss. His threats made it clear to her how she was expected to act.

I just hoped I could maintain my nerve as well. For her sake.

Day 321 - continued - WOP

He walked briskly. I had to hustle to keep up with the boss. When he looked back to be sure I was following, he smiled broadly.

We passed several people working in a garden. Each just kept at their task, never once looking up at our procession. I noticed they didn’t look happy. Hell, they barely appeared alive.

The clear blue skies above made it easy for the morning sun to warm us. I was already sweating through my filthy shirt. Stu appeared as cool as could be. No rivets of sweat stained his back, not yet at least.

“We went through what you brought us,” he began, slowing so I was at his side. “From what we can tell, most, if not all of the drugs are there. And your ammo all seems in order as well. Well played, sir. Very well played.”

“All I did was trade a woman’s life for a thousand rounds of 45 caliber ammo,” I replied, trying not to get sucked into whatever angle he was playing.

“I’m impressed, Bob. Somehow, a mere woodsman, like yourself, figured out something we’d need.” He stopped and turned to face me directly. “I’m shocked actually. How did you know we were short on 45 ammo?”

Fighting back a grin, I gazed down the main street of Covington. Very few people were out, even at the hour. Mostly I noticed armed patrols here and there.

“All four of your posse carried 45s. That told me maybe more of you did.” My gaze returned to his smooth face. “I just put two and two together on a hunch, that’s all. And I’m not from here, originally. I’m from Chicago.”

His smile grew. “I went to school at the University of Minnesota. Just finished my masters there at the Carlson School of Management. Though I hail from Iron River, I had bigger plans. Much bigger plans.”

I looked around nodding. “Like taking over a dump like this?” No sense in holding back. This fellow liked to talk.

His laugh came from his belly and lasted several seconds. “Absolutely not,” he countered, steering me further down the main drag. “I was headed for New York this fall. About to start my career on Wall Street. Then this,” he waved his arms over his head, “whatever this is, happened. But I would be damned if I was going to spend my time playing second fiddle to my uncle back home. No, I was meant to rule.”

“So you came here,” I said. “Anarchy by opportunity.”

He tipped his head slightly. “Some would call it that. But don’t believe all you’ve been told. True anarchy had begun long before my arrival. Hoarding of limited supplies, letting neighbors starve, and run the risk of freezing to death. Families without any clean drinking water. That, my friend, is truly a lost community.”

“So you killed the sheriff and the mayor and made it your own personal slice of hell. I get it. It was there for the taking, right?”

He stopped and pointed at a bench in the shade. I sat and he joined me, our knees almost touching.

“Those were both unfortunate but necessary events. The sheriff and his deputy killed two of mine first. And the mayor threatened us; told us if we didn’t leave he’d have us killed. I knew it was a bluff, but when he came at me with a knife — after I agreed to meet with him alone and speak sensibly with him — well, things had to be done.”

I think he wanted me to view him as the savior of the town and its residents. But the two nearby armed guards made that that tough to swallow.

“I would have preferred to have Mrs. Luke herself, you understand.” His tone was no longer light, but low and solemn. “She’s cost me valuable time and resources. She needed to answer for her sins against this place.”

“You mean you?” I asked. “She sinned against you, in your mind.”

He shook my comment away. “No, I mean the community of Covington. And everyone here.”

It was bullshit and we both knew it. But it was better not to call his bluff.

“Do you know the only working vehicle is this place is a late 50s snow plow?” He asked as if I cared. “That means when we set up our supply line with large fish camp going up near Marquette, we only had one gas-guzzling vehicle to work with.”

“I would think you had some older cars or motorcycles that still worked. Few of those around I bet.”

He bristled at my observation. “Anyone who had one of those was gone by the time we showed up. Hell, we walked here ourselves. All 30 of us.”

“Why here?” I asked. It was something I had wondered about ever since Warren had told me about this place and its invaders.

“I was born to lead,” he replied in a tone of great pride. “That’s what I planned on doing in New York, eventually. But the apocalypse had other plans for me. So, instead of sulking and letting my opportunity slip away, I sought out the next best solution.”

“But why Covington? There must have been easier, closer spots?”

He shrugged, clapping his hands lightly near his knees.

“After the power went down, my uncle began to employ many locals to serve as his protectors. Food, water, shelter…all guaranteed. Others, who wanted to try and make it on their own, were on his doorsteps within sixty days. When I mentioned I wanted a key role, he suggested I find that position elsewhere. He has three sons, thus, he didn’t need another general.”

The way I saw it, this mess was his uncle’s fault. At least partially. If only Stuart had stayed put in Ironwood, then this plague would have never happened.

“It’s location,” he answered in a confident tone. “It’s at the center of the route from Ironwood to Marquette. And it’s a straight shot south Iron Mountain. All commerce will flow through here shortly. And when it does, I will be the tax collector.”

Shit, this guy knew his stuff. No wonder he was so dangerous.

Day 321 - continued - WOP

I followed Stuart Callies to his office. A neat little place that had once served as the center of government for the sleepy little community no doubt. Now it was lined with several dozen of the most lost souls I had ever laid eyes upon.
 

Most wore tattered rags as clothes, with shoes and boots showing holes. Men with long stringy hair and longer snarled beards, women with their heads down, hiding their dirty and sunburned faces from my gaze. A few had small children. In the far corner of an anteroom to Stu’s office, I noticed a group of what I assumed was teenagers. They were the only ones talking, leaning near one another sharing whispers. Their eyes held secrets their tongues dared not share.

“These folks are waiting for transport to Marquette,” Stu stated, leading me into his large well-lit office, thanks to many clean bare windows.

“Looks like they’re ready to go.”

“Just waiting on my people to pump some gas from the ground,” he continued. “That damned truck burns an entire 100-gallon tank going between here and Marquette. We get five gallons at a crack, so it takes a while to fill it. But it will be an even better trip now that Matt has recovered the missing medicine.”

I sat back in a luxurious leather chair, hearing the material squeak against my sweaty shirt.

“And what do you get out of the people and the drugs?”

“That should be obvious, Bob. I send them people and supplies; they send us fish in return. Salted and cured whitefish. We’ve killed just about every living thing within a five-mile radius of town. We’re going to need that fish, and soon.”

“So you enslave people to the fish camps, and in return, they send you food. Pretty sweet deal, unless you’re one of them.”

He leaned forward on his elbows against the dark oak desk. “These people will starve here eventually. There, they’ll be fed as long as they produce. Some will catch fish, some will clean the fish, others will pack it and cure it. Here, if they can’t grow it or kill it, they’re of no good to anyone.”

“Seems kind of shady to me.” A young woman, as clean and bright as Stu came in and served us cool lemonade. When she turned to leave, I noticed her white sundress, covered in smaller red flowers, perhaps roses. How out of place these two appeared.

“I know you don’t see me as a modern day savior to these people, but it really is better than the alternative they faced without me. At least I have a plan, I know how to obtain and utilize resources. The people in charge before me were dolts. By now, there’d only be a handful of people left alive in Covington. Under my guidance, our population has remained steady in the low 300s.”

I sat forward, staring into his medium blue eyes. “Here’s the bottom line. I don’t give a shit about any of this. I struck a deal with your man, and I expect that deal to be honored. So give me the salt and lids and my gun back, and we can part ways.”

He nodded thoughtfully at my demands. At any moment, I expected him to open a drawer, take out a gun, and shoot me smack dab in the middle of my forehead.

“You’re going to need to be a little more patient, Bob. You see I have a very limited supply of salt at this time. I can’t spare 50 pounds.”

Okay, this wasn’t good, but it was workable.

“What do you say you give me back 300 rounds of ammo and we’ll call it even then?” Hell, he wasn’t the only negotiator in the room.

His sour expression told me he didn’t like my counter proposal.

“When the truck comes back from Marquette later this evening, I’ll have the salt. If you don’t want to wait that long, that’s fine with me.” His eyes narrowed to the size of almonds. I wasn’t going to like what he had to say next. “But I’m not giving up any of that ammunition now that it’s here. So you’ll just go home with a box of canning lids and whatever’s left of your pride.”

“That’s not what Matt and I agreed—”

“Matt doesn’t have a final say in negotiations,” he interrupted loudly. “I, and I alone make the final call. I wanted Marge Luke back here. I could have sent her to a fish camp and received her weight in fish every year for the few pitiful years she’d last.”

His rant caught me off-guard. Thus far, he’d been calm and polite. But, like with most narcissists, his mood flipped whenever he didn’t get his way.

“I’d rather know that a thief received her just reward than have something I could just take from you,” he continued, calming with each word. “But I’m a gentleman and a man of my word, even when given by others. So, you and young Miss Luke are safe as long as you are my guests. You’ll receive plenty of lids and a generous amount of salt. But not until it arrives later tonight. You will be my guests again. And we’ll all get through this ordeal in one piece. I trust I’m being reasonable enough for you?”