The Survivors: Book One (31 page)

The Marine watched her from under lowered lashes, not making eye contact, and was disappointed when she slipped into her tent, almost had to force himself to stay where he was as the conversations resumed. These people had mostly accepted him, but they were still watching, waiting to see him cross even the smallest line and be denied the position he was aiming (campaigning) for.

He couldn’t be seen making time with Tonya or any other woman yet, not until there had been a proper mourning period. He wouldn’t ruin his chances here on a piece of ass, no matter how hot. It would be a betrayal of Adrian, but worse, of the wife he’d spoken of back in Ohio. That would be unforgivable thanks to Adrian’s strict, but simple moral code: Do what you want and be shunned, or do the accepted thing and be welcomed. Both types of people lived here, but only one held any power, and being a cut above the rest was also a lure for the controlling soul Kenn’s father had given him.

“You wanna hit this, man?”

Kenn turned to see Zack, the black and gray headed truck driver that the new doctor had just patched up, holding out a thick blunt. The man was unarmed, alone, and carried himself like a fellow controller.

Eyes calm, knowing, arm in a white sling, Kenn thought he smelled new. It took a while for that to fade and the Marine’s sharp eyes assessed him. Like Adrian, he too would need a right hand. Was this it?

“Sure, thanks.” Kenn hit it hard, keeping it for a long moment, waiting, and the career driver didn’t disappoint.

“I hear you handle the big man’s shit and your own. Interested in some backup?”

Kenn handed back the smoldering blunt, stubbing out the part of the cherry that had landed in the trampled needle grass at their feet. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Zack’s green eyes darkened. It was clear to Kenn that the prematurely graying trucker was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“And, in the meantime?”

 Kenn shrugged, turned away. “Anyone who wanted to watch my six would have to be an Eagle and in charge of his own team. That’s a deal breaker.”

Kenn was in his sleeping bag three hours later, cold, uncomfortable, and aware that his past was catching up to him. He could feel Angela looking for her boy at night, searching the vast darkness for their location, and he was furious with her for coming, but livid that she wouldn't answer him even though he knew she’d heard him calling to her. He was no stranger to what she could do, had done his homework before dating (trapping) her, but he couldn’t accept it with her in control. She couldn’t come here, not ever.

"She’s already on her way,"
his mind insisted brutally.
"When she gets here, she’ll not only rock your boat, she’ll sink it. When Adrian finds out what kind of man you were before, how you dishonored the Corps over and over, you’ll be banished."
The voice was cruel, and Kenn hated her at that moment for the tiny worm of fear that began to grow deep in his heart. If Angela made it to Safe Haven, he would lose everything.

4

Monthly camp meetings were mandatory for everyone but those on guard duty, and after dinner, Adrian called his sheep together. It was held in the Mess, and Kenn was impressed with the tarp roof that gave extra room, the snacks and drinks, the neat orderliness of it all.

All the seats were taken as Adrian came under the awning, another dozen men lining the back corners of the gathering people. These, Kenn knew now, were the off-duty guards who were being subtly trained to look out, even when not on a shift. Adrian explained it as civic service and from what Kenn had seen, it was working, but it didn’t hurt that it also gained you the blond’s respect, something everyone wanted. What these people didn’t know was that it was a Marine Corps standard.

The big crowd was mostly quiet, waiting for Adrian to get himself a cup of coffee and a few of the cookies. He had a thick red notebook under his arm and he made his way to the table in the center of the crowd instead of the one in front that had been left empty for him.

Kenn recognized the bonding moment as a very clever political move, but also saw the danger and instinctively kept his hand near his hip, noticing that a few of the others (Kyle, Neil, and Doug) had moved closer.

Adrian remained standing as he got started, meeting their tense eyes to calm them down, while smelling the reeking rot of bodies in the wind, even over the odors of cooking and port-o-lets. This was still cold weather. What would it be like in July?

“This is the third meeting of Safe Haven refugee camp. We have 91 people as of yesterday.”

There was a pleased ripple at that, safety in numbers mentioned in the crowd, and when he smiled, the people relaxed a little, very few of them realizing it was President’s Day. Those who did know the date didn’t care. That world was gone. Safe Haven didn’t need a President. It had Adrian.

“We also now have a doctor!”

There was a big cheer at that, and most heads looked around the neatly organized Mess, but not the Eagles, Kenn noticed. They kept their eyes on their surroundings, doing their duty.

“We’ll work out a schedule, but for now just sign the sheet Neil has, and put your problem on it if you can. The doctor will use it to decide who needs to be seen first.”

There was quiet chatter as the tall trooper passed the first clipboard, and before Adrian could continue, an eager voice rang out from behind Kenn, “You gonna run those tests now? The ones to see if anyone here’s sick?”

 Adrian nodded, picking his words carefully as people turned to look at the big-eyed man, “I’d like to, yes, but...”

“And we’re gonna kick ‘em out right? Just like we voted on?” Tony, a low-fare grease-monkey, interrupted again.

Adrian frowned at the short, balding mechanic. “We won’t be so nasty, but yes. They’ll be asked to leave.”

People were talking quietly to each other, some frowning, some nodding, and the drunkard sat down, looking satisfied. Smothering a curse, Adrian turned the page and moved on. That wouldn’t help people get checked out, would only make them scared to.

“Our new crew of guards has passed into Level Two, and that means we need another 20 men to try out for Level One. Neil will pass around that sheet, and I’ll let you know in a couple days. Also, our reserves aren’t growing, and I understand that’s because no one feels safe. While I can’t take away all the danger, I can give you some protection. Eagle Four and his team are hereby on loan to guard any supply mission of six or more people that has been approved a day in advance. They get their orders from me though, and will not endanger their lives unless it’s worth it.” Adrian warned, “If they say no, it’s not safe, move on. They’ll look after you, but if something goes wrong, their number one priority is to get everyone back to camp. Next, schedule switches will no longer be handled by me. Kenn and Kyle will handle all changes. I’ll still make out the original and give a final approval.”

Adrian paused to light a stale smoke, and the Marine was almost positive he was judging the reaction of the camp. They seemed to be fine with his choices, though there were a few looks were being exchanged between some of the Eagles over the order of the names. How important was that?

“As of tomorrow, there will be a third meal. The appliances Kenn and Doug hooked up work great, so from now on, it’s three squares, Monday through Friday, with Saturday and Sunday staying the same, lunch and dinner with the truck open for coffee, toast, and cereal. A-L will be served the new meal first, M-Z 35 minutes later, shift to start at noon.” He turned another page, giving Kenn a nod of recognition that the dark- headed man soaked up like a thirsty desert.

“Effective immediately, everyone is back on full water rations.” The cheer was much loud this time, and the leader waved at his soon-to-be right hand man, “Thank Lance Corporal Harrison. His idea of trucks on the highway was great, and now we’re good as long as we find one a week.”

Kenn was being slapped on the back and congratulated, but he didn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction in Adrian’s pale eyes as he watched his new man being accepted.

“We also have four new loads of clothes, shoes, blankets, and a lot of other gear we’ve been low on or out of. The trucks will be open right after this meeting, with M-Z going first and A-L, 20 minutes later.” He paused, looking around.

“We have the photos back from the Essex bunker and NORAD. They’re bad and it blows the idea of finding help there. With this odd weather holding in some warmth, I say we keep looking, but if we haven’t found anything by the Fourth of July, then we should pick a place to try starting over on our own.”

“You mean in the mountains?” someone called out from the very back. Kenn noticed the eyes of the camp never stopped moving, looking, even though there were guards everywhere right now. Tense sheep, he thought, waiting for the dog’s bite.

Adrian was clearly reluctant and had to raise his voice a bit to be heard as the wind ran through camp, causing the tents to flap louder. “Yes. The bunker under the base in Montana won’t hold us all, but this country is full of tunnels, caves, and equipment to make them livable. I hope for something above, but if we had to, we could go to ground or take a big set of caves and block them off, make it work temporarily.”

He waved a dismissive hand, his eyes calmer than his stomach as they muttered among themselves. “It’s just something to start thinking about. We’ll have a final vote on that in July. For now, we’ll stay here tomorrow and have our contest, then head out the next morning. Where? We pick that tonight, along with voting on some new rules.”

Adrian met suddenly nervous eyes with calm, reasonable words. “We have a lot of people here now, and we pick up more nearly every day. That’s great, exactly what we want, but it also means we need more volunteers. With no law that says they have to, people aren’t pulling their weight. The current rules say everyone has to help, but I’d like to be more specific. We need each person here to pull three shifts on guard duty and one shift on any other chore of their choice. We all want things to be better, right?” He waited for a reaction, their half-hearted agreement, faces a mix of trust and suspicion, and then went on, voice without doubt.

“Better before, was working to get the finer things, the luxuries, but now, better means working to survive, to keep what we’ve got; this second chance. These things have to be done, and we have to be the ones to do them. There is no one else,” his tone had become slightly scolding and Kenn was impressed, sure there would be extra hands for at least the next week. No one liked to see Adrian disappointed or unhappy.

“I’d like to have more of us taking the gun classes too. There’s a large group of guerillas moving up Interstate 25, as most of you know, and we need to be able to defend ourselves.”

“Do you think we’ll be attacked?” the reporter, Cynthia ‘Shark-Bitch’ Quest, asked, sweating heavily because she’d insisted on squeezing into the front with the elderly so she wouldn’t miss a single word or reaction.

Adrian shrugged. His eyes were unreadable even though he knew her from before the War. She hadn’t placed him yet, might not if Fate was on his side, but he hadn’t even considered turning her away, or worse, getting rid of her. And that was the difference between him and his father’s people, why he was worthy to lead these people.

“I hope not, but it’s part of why we need more hands for guard duty and that reminds me, people are getting out of their cars in new places way too soon. Many times, the guards haven’t cleared or roped off the area yet, and I’m telling you now, someone will end up getting hurt because of it.”

Adrian moved to the beaded doorway of the Mess, to the cook. Hilda was a plump-faced German woman they’d picked up in central Nevada, another one he wasn’t sure about yet. Like the reporter - Adrian didn’t where she fit into his plans for their future, but he had little doubt they both did. And if one of these two alert females discovered his secret, it was fate. They wouldn’t though, he had faith in that. At least not until these people were able to survive without him. Then it would be open season.

 “Can I get a Bud?”

The big-shouldered cook moved immediately, eyes unreadable, and he made a mental note to talk to her at a later time as he turned back to his people. If she wanted work to do that kept her out of view, he had that, but he would not let her waste that sharp intelligence.

Adrian looked back at his camp. “This area is bad, dangerous. We all feel it. We can’t stay long without getting sick. After the contest, I’d like to make some real miles and get away from here now that we know NORAD is gone.”

There was no real response except darkening faces at the mention of the compound many of them had secretly hoped would be standing and willing to take in survivors, but the muttering was continuous. The large group wasn’t even completely silent while Adrian was talking.

Adrian took the towel-wrapped bottle with a nod, “Okay, any new business?”

“Yes.” Alex Ford, a young math teacher from Montana stood up nervously. “Are we gonna... I mean... Can we celebrate the holidays? Some of the kids have asked and we’re not sure what to tell them.”

The well-dressed, bald man sat back down and Adrian appeared to be considering, but this was easy, one of the things he’d covered in his own head over a month ago.

“Only the ones that matter, I think. The Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, New Years, for sure. Memorial Day.”

“What about Easter and Christmas?” Cynthia asked, hurriedly hand-copying as much of the meeting word for word as she could, and Adrian shook his head.

“Not as a whole camp. Hardly anyone believed in them, just used them as an excuse to indulge or buy off loved ones rather than spending real time with them. I won’t even get into the money and stores and what they did to our lives. Each person can do what they want and I won’t be upset to see kids hunting eggs or dressing up for Halloween, but I won’t let a few force it on everyone else either.”

There were nods and frowns, again about evenly split, and Adrian took a moment to open his beer and take a healthy swallow, wisely giving his sheep a minute to settle in with the idea that even the holidays had changed for them.