Fallback (5 page)

Theo still looked pissed, but he clapped the leg-stabber on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Gil. There wasn’t a good choice there.” He glanced at me, and I saw he was trying to settle his emotions. “We were too far away, so you had to do what you had to do.”

Gil pushed long, sweaty black hair back from his face, undid the tie at the back of his neck, and re-secured the whole mess. “I know. I guess. But, man, I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, but Isaac feels worse, so suck it up.” Apparently Theo had exhausted his daily supply of sympathy.

Marcus rose from where he’d been kneeling by Isaac and the doctor. “All right, everybody. Show’s over. Good work out there.” He paused to catch Gil’s attention, then gave him a nod, including him in his praise. “Doc’s got things under control here, and Isaac’ll be fine. Go clean up, and be back at the meeting place in an hour.”

Dismissed.

I turned to go and met up with Melissa as she descended the ladder from the tower. “You were great out there,” she said.

“Gee, don’t sound so surprised.” It had been over a year since I began learning to fight, but it still seemed like a novelty to Melissa.

She snorted, and I went to put my arm around her, but she darted away. “Ew, no. You reek.”

The rush of the fight fading, I realized she was right. I looked at Rebecca, who only smirked and headed toward the house. I took a tentative whiff, then exhaled and decided breathing through my nose was not an option for a while. The oily, rancid stench of the dead coated the inside of my sinuses and clung to the sweat on my skin like wet tissue paper.

I knew what had to be done. We’d heat the water in one of our rain barrels and use the manual pump to hose off the stink. We wouldn’t have time to get the water hot, but we could at least take the chill off. I pointed at Melissa. “You’re on pump duty.”

She fanned her hand in front of her nose. “It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Fifty-five minutes later, we were back at the former lumberyard near the east gate. Rebecca’s hair was tightly braided again, but mine hung loose and drippy down my back. I wasn’t fresh as April sunshine, but if I didn’t breathe in too deeply, I’d do.

The atmosphere of the team was crackling with residual energy from our fight. I flexed my shoulders, still hot and sore from swinging my machete, and let my gaze wander over the people around me. They were now, for all practical purposes, my family. We would depend on each other for everything in the coming days…possibly even years. I knew the council had made sure we had a wide range of skills and talents, but we were a physically diverse bunch as well. Melissa and Faith, at seventeen, were the youngest, and Neil Richmond was the senior member of the team. Cooper Merriweather, the brother of Dr. Vincent’s assistant Lisa, was perhaps nineteen, and an exceptional woodsman. His skill with hunting and fishing had carried the communal kitchen through some lean times in the past. Patrick Gough, one of the construction and woodworking crew, might be twenty. We were black, white, Hispanic, and Asian…a regular post-apocalyptic United Nations.

While it was a nice feeling, none of it mattered. What did matter was how we could contribute to building a new home and keeping each other safe.

Marcus resumed his spot on the platform and called for attention. “I want to commend everyone on your teamwork today. I know a lot of you haven’t fought together before, but you jumped to the challenge. Yes, we had an injury, but how you responded to it showed me we chose the right people for this group.” He paused as some of the team nodded and nudged each other in affirmation. “Isaac will be fine, but he’s going to be laid up for at least a few weeks. We can’t wait for him, so his spot will be reassigned.” He scanned the faces of the remaining alternates, who were clustered together toward the rear. “Gil Traynor. You’ve been working with Isaac and Fitz on the radio and communications setup, so you’re in.” I guessed this meant Isaac had been our radio specialist.

Gil’s head snapped up, a look of shock in his odd gold-brown eyes, and he began to sputter. “Me? But…it was my fault. How can…?”

Marcus cut him off. “Isaac got injured. That happens in a battle. You continued to address the threat, and when it was eliminated, you assisted in getting your teammate evacuated and back to the wall. You’re in.” His tone said there would be no further discussion on the subject.

There was some shuffling of feet and a few mutters, but Gil was now part of fallback team three, and that was that.

“We leave at eight in the morning, three days from now. You have that long to decide what you’re taking, and to handle personal business. You’re no longer scheduled for any duties within the Compound, other than responding if we come under attack again. We’ll train from eight to ten and four to six the next two days.” He stopped to grab a water bottle and was bombarded with questions.

By the time the inquiries were all addressed, we knew we would be traveling light. Our destination had existing structures for housing and livestock, and a fully-equipped kitchen. The scout team which had identified and secured the site, and who would be our escorts for the trip, had been carrying basic supplies there since the roads cleared earlier in the spring. Additional supplies had been requisitioned from the community’s stores and would be sent with us.

We would travel in a small convoy of passenger vans and cargo trucks, one vehicle designated for livestock. In addition to a few horses and a number of chickens, I learned we’d be taking goats. Our goats. Including Wilhelm. Melissa was thrilled. I had reservations.

Skip and three other dogs owned by team members would also be going, and some cats who would be responsible for mouse and varmint control.

Marcus had looked tense when he announced we’d each be allotted one thirty-one gallon Rubbermaid container, procured from a home supply store on a particularly lucrative scavenging mission, for our clothing and personal items. He seemed to think he’d get an argument, especially from the females, but the truth was we didn’t have a lot of stuff. Everything we had was lost with our old lives, and the world as it was didn’t lend itself to sentimentality. We were also allowed to bring one backpack or duffle with the clothing and gear we’d need for the journey, which was expected to last three days. I knew this meant to pack for at least five days. We’d be traveling back roads and taking a circuitous route, in case anyone attempted to follow us. Anything could happen, and we needed to be prepared.

And, of course, we were to bring all the weapons we could get our hands on.

The meeting concluded, and we were told to be back at eight in the morning for training. On the way back to our house, Rebecca said she needed to make a detour. “I was talking to Hank on my way to the house to clean up, and he had a good day hunting.”

Hank might have surpassed even Cooper Merriweather when it came to hunting. “What’d he bag?” I asked, running through my mental recipe card file.

Rebecca shrugged her arrow quiver higher on her shoulder. “Bunch of rabbits. Said there were so many in the meadow out by the old church he could’ve just thrown a net over ’em. I’m going to trade him some of my fresh arrows.” In addition to being a savant with any weapon, the woman could also make a functional bow, and her hand-crafted arrows were in high demand.

That explained the quiver. I’d wondered why she had arrows with her. Barter. “I’ll go get stuff simmering for stew, but make sure he cleans them. I’m too tired to deal with that today.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and set off, and Melissa and I returned to our house. Bethany was home, pouring a pail of goat milk into containers and placing them in the fridge. “Hey,” she greeted us. “Heard you had some excitement earlier.”

Melissa scooted upstairs to her room, so I answered my roommate. “Little bit. Small swarm, but one guy, Isaac, took a knife to the leg. He’ll be okay, but Marcus had to replace him on the fallback team.”

Bethany put the milk pail in the sink and splashed some clean water into it, rinsing it out. “Isaac Underwood?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I hadn’t met him before.”

“Only Isaac I know,” Bethany said. “He used to hang out with my friend Brenda, but I think that’s over now.”

I went to the pantry to pull out the vegetables for the stew. “Rebecca is bringing back some rabbit,” I explained when Bethany raised her brows. With a nod, she grabbed a knife and a cutting board, and we set to work.

By the time Rebecca returned, the rabbits not only cleaned but also cut into portions, the stew pot was ready for them.

Later, as we were eating the delicious meal, Melissa’s gaze kept drifting toward the living room, where her piano was visible along the far wall. Quinn had brought her that piano, and it had played a huge role in her recovery.

She caught me watching her and sighed. “I can’t take my piano. I know.”

“No, honey,” I said with a sad smile.

Bethany reached over and patted her hand. “I’ll take good care of it for you. If you end up coming back here, it’s always yours. And if I can send it along later after you’re settled, I will.”

Some of the sadness left Melissa’s face. “Thanks, Beth.” She paused. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know, and I’ll miss you. But you’re not going to Mars, and we’re all still part of the same community, even if you’re somewhere else for a while. You might come back once the threat is over, or we all might go to a new place together.”

“And don’t forget,” I added, “communication and supplies will be moving between the fallbacks and here all the time. We won’t lose touch, and once things settle down, I’m sure we can visit.”

I wasn’t sure of any of those things, but it seemed like I should say it anyway.

When we’d eaten all we could, I gave Skip some leftovers and went out in the back yard with Melissa. She charmed Wilhelm off the chicken coop—again—and fed the chickens. I debated moving the woodpile Wilhelm used to reach the roof, but concluded there was no point. He’d be leaving with us in a few days. Let him have his fun.

Skip approached the lawn chair where I sat and nudged my elbow, begging for an ear rub. I complied, thinking how homey the whole scene was. For the first time, I wondered if I’d made the wrong decision in volunteering for the fallback team. Then I thought back to what Melissa had said about falling prey to the seductive appeal of the familiar. Moments like this, watching my adopted little sister put her forehead against Wilhelm’s and have a pretend pushing match, the chickens clucking peacefully in their pen, and Skip’s velvety ear sliding through my fingers as I petted him…that’s all they were. Moments.

The reality was a threat loomed, one we weren’t sure we could defend against. This place, where just a few hours ago I’d hacked my way through eight or ten zombies, wasn’t safe. If it could be saved, our citizens would do it. If not, it was now my job—and Melissa’s and Rebecca’s—to provide a haven for everyone to regroup as we planned a new community.

I’d considered not volunteering because of Melissa, afraid she couldn’t handle the psychological upheaval of going somewhere new, somewhere unknown. But watching her now, rolling around in the grass with the two spring kids clambering all over her, I knew she’d be fine. Skip and the goats were going with us, and she’d have chickens and horses, other dogs and cats. Her best friend Faith was going, as well as Rebecca. Most of her nearest and dearest, two-legged and four-legged, would be with her. She didn’t have to stay here where it was familiar, but she could take a bit of familiar with her.

We’d all be okay. I was determined we would.

CHAPTER SIX

“Melissa, could you come help me, please?” I’d been trying to braid my hair for ten minutes and was getting nowhere. My hands were already cramping up with the effort.

She came bounding into the room a few seconds later, her dark hair in a high ponytail and secured with a green ribbon. I was lucky I’d made it out of bed. The training the last two days had been brutal. Those of us designated as fighters were pushed to our limits, while the others were put through less grueling self-defense drills.

“What do you need, Ells?” Skip slid into the room on her heels, shaking a toy made from a knotted sock.

“I don’t want to have to deal with my hair while we’re on the road, so I’m trying to do the French braid thing.”

Melissa sat on the edge of the bed, and Skip jumped up and lay down beside her. She studied the tangled mess I’d made of my hair and sighed. “You want the braid on each side, then meeting up at the back of your neck and turning into one braid?”

“Exactly.” I’d then coil up the braid and pin it at my nape, keeping it out of the way.

Melissa took my comb and untangled my snarly locks, parting it down the middle and starting the first braid. “Your hair is a lot lighter than it was.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m outside a lot more than I was…before.” Who knew all it took to turn dishwater blonde hair into a soft light gold was hours and hours of weapons training and zombie fighting in the blazing sun? I didn’t recommend it.

When my hair was battened down for the journey, I thanked Melissa, rose, and threw a blue chambray shirt on over my jeans and black tank top. It was early May, but the morning had a little bit of a chill.

“Beth’s waiting downstairs,” she told me.

I’d been dreading this part. Melissa, Rebecca, and I had made our rounds of the neighborhood since being named to the fallback team, but at home we’d all been pretending nothing was happening. I thought we wanted to hold on to “normal” as long as we could, but now the time was here. We were leaving.

We arrived downstairs to find Rebecca and Bethany standing awkwardly on the front porch. Rebecca had gone full-on military, with a camouflage tank top, olive cargo pants, and her customary boots. She’d never been in the military, but it suited her. She stood in sharp contrast with Melissa’s green-checked gingham blouse, tied at the waist, over a green t-shirt and jeans. It almost looked like the apocalypse hadn’t touched the teenager, and I wished that were true.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Bethany held up a hand. “No, Ellen, we’re not saying goodbye. Okay?” Her lip trembled a bit as she finished speaking.

“So I guess a big, teary hug is out of the question?” My attempt at humor fell flat, and Bethany launched herself into my arms with a sob.

“I love you guys,” she sniffed, “but I’m not saying goodbye. I’ll see you again as soon as things are safe here.”

I glanced at Rebecca, whose expression said she wasn’t betting on Bethany’s prediction coming true, but knew we had to go with it. “I know, Beth. By fall, everything will be back to normal.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to watch you leave, so I’m going ahead to the greenhouse.” She slung her day pack over her shoulder. “Emma and Lucinda are moving in this evening, so I won’t be alone. Don’t worry.”

“We won’t,” Rebecca said, giving Bethany a friendly slug in the shoulder, which caused her to take a step to the side to retain her balance. I thought it was actually a very gentle gesture, coming from Rebecca.

After a few more see-you-later exchanges, we were on our way, Skip trotting along at my side. He tugged occasionally and pawed at his leash, which he wasn’t used to wearing, but I wasn’t risking his taking off after a rabbit and delaying our departure, or worse, missing it.

We arrived at our staging area, the parking lot of the community building. Team one had departed the previous morning, and team two was leaving tomorrow. Team four was the larger group, and they needed several more days to prepare.

We eased our packs from our shoulders and looked around. Our convoy consisted of six vehicles, and we’d received our travel assignments at the end of last night’s training. Marcus and John Kim were riding in the lead SUV, with our radio. We were on strict communication silence on this trip, other than a daily check-in with the council, and Marcus was determined nobody would decide it wouldn’t hurt to radio a friend back at the Compound and inadvertently give away our location.

One of our escorts would ride on top of the SUV in an open, armored steel enclosure. Chest high, it would give the man a good vantage point and firing position, while offering protection if anyone decided to shoot back.

I was in the second vehicle, a passenger van. Patrick Gough, Neil’s good-looking young nephew, would drive. Melissa, along with Jocelyn, Faith, and a guy I didn’t know well made up the rest of my companions. The guy’s name was Cody Boatman, and I thought he worked on the construction crews with Patrick and Anton Lindahl.

Behind us was a full-size Budget Rental truck, packed to the roof with supplies. The livestock truck and a second passenger van were next, and another SUV brought up the rear, with an escort on the roof.

As we passed the livestock truck, Wilhelm and his girlfriends bleated and shifted, probably wondering why they’d been so unceremoniously rousted from their yard so early this morning. A large wire mesh crate, positioned for maximum air flow, contained a number of disgruntled chickens, if their clucks and squawks were any indication. Three horses were at the back, their heads bobbing over the rear gate.

Marcus emerged from the community center and called for us to gather around him. “If anybody’s having second, or third, or fifty-third thoughts, now’s the time to say so.” Nobody did. “I’m not kiddin’, folks. Once we reach the fallback, you’re there for the duration.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Gil, the guy who had been added three days ago when Isaac was injured.

“It means you’re to stay at the fallback, with minimal excursions, and those only in the case of extreme necessity. Even then, you’re to use weather or daylight conditions to conceal your activity. You’ll understand what I mean when you see the location. It’s highly secure, but any comings and goings would be easy to see if anybody’s looking.”

Rebecca leaned toward me and muttered, “I like the ‘highly secure’ part, but I don’t know what the rest of it means.”

“Me either.” While a secure location was appealing, I didn’t like the idea of being pinned down. Where could we be going? The peak of a very steep hill? A house and barns in the middle of a sprawling horse farm? There were plenty of those in Kentucky, but they didn’t sound especially secure. Well, no use speculating. We’d know in a few days.

“I will be driving the lead vehicle,” Marcus said. I’d already known that much. “I have the maps, and initially the escorts and I are the only ones who know our destination, for security reasons.” The team did some grumbling at this, and Marcus hastened to reassure us. “I know, it’s not that we don’t trust every one of you. But we don’t know what we’ll run across, and if someone gets snatched, they can’t tell what they don’t know.”

Yeah, that made me feel tons better.

“If anything happens and we have to split up, follow either my vehicle or the one at the rear with the escort. If you get cut off, head for the last safe place we stopped. Make sense?” Marcus swept his gaze across his team, waiting for any further questions. There weren’t any. “All right, people, load up.”

Melissa and I climbed into our assigned van, tossing our packs in the open space behind the last row of seats. She settled with Faith, and they put their heads together, chattering with excitement. Skip touched noses with Patrick’s yellow Labrador retriever, Nilla—as in vanilla wafer—and curled up to snooze at my feet.

We drove up to the south gate and paused as Marcus got the all-clear from the guards. No threats or activity in the immediate area. We exited the Compound, Patrick behind the wheel, and we were on our way.

I refused to look back at the place I’d called home for the past two years. It had been my sanctuary when I needed it, and my prison when I didn’t know how to go on. Then it had been a source of hope and some measure of security. I might even have been happy there, but the trauma and pain associated with it weighed heavily, and I was glad to be moving on. Maybe a fresh start was what Melissa and I needed to put the last of our shared nightmare behind us.

The caravan avoided the main roads, as most were still clogged with abandoned, burned-out vehicles, and the few clear routes were the ones most likely to have been booby-trapped by those who preyed on others. We changed roads often, and I was pretty sure we were altering direction and even doubling back at times. While it made sense, the jostling over rough, hilly, twisty roads was taking a toll on my stomach. I never used to get carsick, but this slow-speed rollercoaster was getting to me. Or maybe I was more nervous than I thought. I decided to slide over and chat with Jocelyn, who was sipping a bottle of water and looking a bit green herself.

Jocelyn gave me a sheepish smile. “I’d say I wished we could go faster so we could get there and out of this damned van, but then the ride might turn my innards into outards.”

I snorted. “I know what you mean. These back roads weren’t great to start with, and two years without grading or pothole filling didn’t do them any good.”

We gazed out the window at the passing trees, and I saw a pair of zombies stagger out of the forest. One got clipped by the fender of Marcus’ vehicle and fell back into the ditch. The second zombie looked at its fallen comrade and back at our passing caravan, but seemed unable to decide on a course of action. It stood, its bare, sinewy arms swaying as it rocked in place.

“Marcus said he wouldn’t stop for the midday break until he hadn’t seen any zombies for a while,” Joceyn mused, clearly wishing the opportunity to get out and stretch her legs and settle her stomach would come sooner rather than later.

I didn’t like it, but it was logical. “We have to be far enough away from any that saw us and might be following, so they won’t have time to catch up before we move on.”

Jocelyn looked unconvinced. “Will they really follow us very far?” She hadn’t been outside the walls often, never on patrol, so she hadn’t seen some of the things the rest of us had.

“Yeah.” I opened my water bottle and called Skip, pouring a bit into my hand for him to lap. “If they see you and start following, they’ll usually keep moving in that direction unless something attracts them a different way. Marcus might do one of his direction changes, though. If they’re not close when we turn, and they can’t hear the engines, we’d probably lose them.”

She nodded, then changed the subject, looking pointedly at Melissa and Faith, who were still whispering to each other. And sneaking frequent glances at Patrick. “What do you think of that?”

I tilted my head and thought. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I’ve seen them flirting with him some at the team meetings.”

“He’s a good-looking boy.”

“Yep, he is that.” Curly dark hair nearly to his shoulders, lively green eyes, and a ready smile were the stuff of teenage girls’ dreams. “He seems like a good guy. He’s a hard worker, and knows his construction.” There was nothing wrong with some flirtation, I knew that, and I was glad to see Melissa show any interest at all in a guy. After her horrifying introduction to the male of the species, I’d begun to wonder if she ever would.

Jocelyn looked toward the front of the van, where Patrick seemed oblivious to his two-girl admiration society. “Well, he’s Neil’s nephew, so we know he’d get his butt kicked if he stepped out of line.”

I gave a short laugh, drawing Melissa’s attention. “True, true.” I waited until Melissa returned to talking to Faith before I continued. “I just hope if the girls are both crushing on him, that doesn’t come between them.” Friendships were hard to come by in this world, and I’d hate to see them lose what they had over a boy.

Jocelyn shook her head. “Oh, no, that won’t happen. They’re smart girls. Plus, I think Faith has her eye on Cooper Merriweather.”

I grinned, and Jocelyn looked perplexed. I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t you see how insane this is? We’re in a convoy going who knows where, planning to set up a waystation in case the community we just left is attacked and captured by marauders, zombies lurch out of the woods at fairly regular intervals, there is a truck of goddamned goats behind us…and we’re worried about our girls letting some boy sweet-talk his way into their pants.”

She looked at me a moment, then started to giggle, covering her mouth with one hand in an attempt to stifle the sound. “Oh, Ellen, you sure have a way with words.” She swiped at her eyes and fought a few final guffaws into submission. “But I’ll say this. As different as this world is now…some things never change.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

We continued to talk, our conversation punctuated with long periods of comfortable silence as we traveled further and further into the unknown. A couple of hours later, Patrick’s walkie-talkie chirped. He listened carefully and made a few short replies, then announced, “Rest stop in about two miles.”