Fallback (8 page)

“Oh, unclench your cooch, girl. I’m just saying you’re a young, healthy woman, and there’s gonna come a time. But don’t get ahead of yourself. We don’t know this guy yet, and don’t know if he’s even coming with us. Hell, for all we know, Anton could shoot him and feed him to the pigs.”

I stopped. “There are pigs?” I hadn’t seen any. Or smelled them.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and shoved me into the kitchen. “No, I was speaking figuratively, dumbass.”

We filled our plates and settled at the kitchen table with Neil, which somehow led to the discussion of how a pig absolutely would eat a person if they happened to blunder into their pen in some sort of vulnerable condition. I decided if I ever planned to get drunk again, I’d never do it anywhere within staggering distance of a pigpen.

The front yard Q and A apparently over, the rest of the team began filtering though the kitchen, filling their plates and heading off to the dining room, living room, or front porch to eat. I noticed Ty with Marcus, grabbing plates and going back in the direction of the sitting room where we’d met earlier. I guessed they had more to discuss.

I joined Melissa in the yard with Skip and the lab, Nilla. I threw a stick for them until Skip got frustrated. Beagles should never try to out-retrieve a retriever.

As the sun was about to set, Marcus came out of the house, followed by what seemed to be all the team members who had been inside. “Folks, I got an announcement. Phil and Monte,” he nodded at our two escorts, “are gonna take Tyler out to the barn to settle the animals in for the night. We’re gonna have a meeting, talk about whether to take Tyler with us, or make other arrangements for him.”

Ty, Phil, and Monte started toward the barn, but Ty looked back at me, giving me a small smile and a nod. I wondered what that meant. I also wondered about what “other arrangements” might possibly be made.

Everyone gathered around, murmuring, until Marcus began to speak.

“We’ve all had a chance to hear Mr. Garrett’s story, ask him some questions. So now we gotta figure out what to do. To be honest, I never gave much thought to what to do if we ran into somebody out here on their own. Shoulda, I suppose, but too late for that now. We gotta deal with what’s in front of us, and we don’t have a lot of time. We’re out of here at first light. Who’s got something to say?”

Cody, the shy guy with the long, sandy hair spoke up. “On the pro side, he’s a blacksmith. I can do some basic metalwork, but he can probably make anything out of iron. Even some damn fine weapons, judging by that spear of his.”

“We got weapons,” Anton countered. Yep, still an asshole.

Cody wasn’t ready to let it go. “Yeah, now. But what if we have to run, or we get hit and somebody takes them? And have you ever put a shoe on a horse? I know I haven’t, and we’re gonna be counting on those horses for a lot. One goes lame, it’s a problem.”

“Can he fight?” Rebecca asked. “Can’t take anybody who can’t fight.”

“I’d say so,” I put in. “Their group trained in all kinds of weapon skills. Even taught workshops and gave demonstrations. He might not be a great shot, I don’t know, but that’s not our first form of attack, anyway.”

Rebecca shot me a look, brow arched, hinting at her earlier observation and cautioning against getting ahead of myself.

“He could be an asset,” Marcus agreed. “He’s big, strong, seems healthy, and has a lot of skills. Besides the blacksmith thing, he says the group liked to share what they knew at their meetings, so he’s also got good skills in woodworking, leather tanning, and even making mead.”

“What the hell’s mead?” asked Cooper Merriweather, our all-around woodsman guy. “And what do we need with it?”

Marcus gave a small laugh. “Near’s I can tell, it’s something between a wine and a beer, made with honey. Never had it, but I figure it’s gotta be better than that flammable corn whiskey shit you been makin’.”

Cooper raised a hand and ducked his head, admitting defeat.

“But maybe most interesting,” Marcus continued, “is he also knows how to make armor out of metal and leather. Not full on knight stuff, but gauntlets to protect our arms, helmets, breast plates, even chain mail. If we can find materials and he can teach some of us to make it, that could be real important. The stuff we’ve been patchin’ together don’t ever fit right, and it’s more trouble’n it’s worth.”

That was as interesting as the weapons. Some of the guys had found football arm guards at a college football field, but they were “man-sized,” and flopped around on my much smaller forearms. Most bites happened on the hands and lower arms, but protection that didn’t hinder as much as it helped was hard to come by.

“But what if he ain’t who he says he is?” Gil Traynor asked. He sounded crankier about the situation than I thought he should be. Maybe it was because he’d been named to the radio post when Isaac was injured, but Marcus wasn’t letting anyone but himself near the radio until we got wherever we were going, leaving Gil nothing to do but find things to be unhappy about.

“Hey, you haven’t been around that long, either, Traynor,” Theo said, his dark eyes flashing. “Where do we draw the line? How long do we have to wait, how many questions do we have to ask, before we take a chance—with some precautions, of course?”

Gil didn’t have an answer for that, so the conversation continued. I glanced over to where Melissa and Faith were sitting on the porch steps, Skip between them. They were listening intently.
Melissa
. She was my priority, my perspective. I realized I had to factor what was best, what was safest for her, into any decisions. That would be my guideline.

Javier Alvarado spent a lot of time in the countryside as a scout, and he raised another concern. “What if he’s a plant? What if the marauders have people scattered around, small groups, and when they see a chance, they drop one or two for us to find? Get on the inside, tell them where we’re going? Their best chance to take us is to hit us on the road.”

“Well, he doesn’t know where we’re going, does he?” said John Kim, our other radio guy and security expert. “I don’t even know, and neither do you. Only Marcus does, and the escorts.”

I looked at Marcus and saw him absently put one hand on the leather pouch hanging at his belt. I hoped nobody else had noticed. I suddenly had a strong feeling that’s where he had the map showing our destination. I trusted these people, I truly did. Mostly. It wasn’t smart to trust anyone completely these days. What if someone just got curious, but then got snatched by marauders? Anybody would tell what they knew, given the right motivation, whether pain or reward.

The debate raged on for another half hour. Opinions ranged from Tyler being only slightly short of a messiah, destined to bring strength and prosperity to our group, to something in the neighborhood of the antichrist, there to rain death and destruction down upon our heads. Maybe
he
was the one who slaughtered a village somewhere.

Things were getting ridiculous. Honestly, I thought some of the younger and more shit-stirring members of the group were throwing wild scenarios out there purely for entertainment purposes. It wasn’t like we had cable anymore. We were living the ultimate reality show.

I scooted over to Melissa and Faith. “What do you girls think?”

Melissa pushed Skip off her lap and pursed her lips, her gray eyes thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I mean, we can never be sure, can we?”

“No, honey, we can’t.” It sucked, but there it was.

Melissa looked at Faith, who gave her a nod. “I say he comes with us.”

I hadn’t had any predictions of her reply, but wanted to know more. “Why?”

Melissa met my eyes, something she once hadn’t been able to do with anyone. “He’s not familiar, but that doesn’t mean he’s bad. He can’t help it if he’s on his own. He’s not familiar to anybody anymore. Doesn’t mean he should be left by himself to get killed.”

I nodded, considering. “That’s true. But if we don’t know he’s bad, we don’t know he’s good, either.” I didn’t think he was bad, but I was playing devil’s advocate. I suspected I needed to hear evidence laid out for myself as much as for the girls.

“You’re right,” Faith chipped in, blonde head bobbing. She adjusted her slightly crooked wire-rimmed glasses on her nose before continuing. “But in the world before…before it got like this, do you think there were more good people or bad people?”

Interesting question. Where was she going with this? “Good, I hope,” I said. “Bad things happened, but there were more good people, living their lives, helping each other. At least in the world I knew.” It had been a sheltered life, but I imagined that had been the case for an awful lot of people. I wondered if the ratios had changed since the outbreak.

“That’s what we think too,” Melissa said. “And I’ve been watching him. All those months after we came to the Compound, before I’d talk to anybody, that’s all I did. I watched. I got good at reading what they were like, really like, inside. And I think Ty is okay. I think we should give him a chance.”

That sealed it for me. I didn’t want to let my unexpected attraction for Ty cloud my judgment, and needed some fresh perspective away from the drama of the group conversation taking place behind me. I turned to see if they were making any progress.

“That’s it, that’s it, people,” Marcus called above the din of multiple conversations. “I think we’ve looked it over about every way we possibly can, given the information we have to work with.”

“So, what happens now?” Davey Kline asked as the group quieted.

“Now,” Marcus said, his sweeping gaze making contact with each person, “now we vote.”

CHAPTER NINE

We were given several options. We could take Ty with us, making him a provisional member of the group, and make a final decision before arriving at our destination. We could leave him at the farm with some basic supplies and a pat on the back. The third option we were given was to leave him at the farm for now, and the escorts would pick him up on their way back and take him to the Compound, still unaware of our new location.

That last option drew some more debate. Could we send an unknown, a potential spy, into the Compound with the threat looming over us? The argument was plenty of people knew its location; the marauders surely did. He was perfectly capable of finding it on his own, and if the marauders wanted a spy inside, there were any number of easier ways to accomplish that objective. Hell, there were probably spies inside already.

I was worried about how people would react to the outcome of the vote. Would members of our team be angry or resent other members who voted differently than they did? Should we go inside and find paper and do a secret ballot? It turned out Marcus had a simpler idea.

“Let’s not make this more complicated than it has to be, people. We ain’t got time for it,” he said. “Get in a circle.”

Everybody looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Melissa even giggled.

“I’m serious! Now move!”

I felt like I was in kindergarten, getting ready to play a game or something. But when Marcus said he was serious, he meant it, so we all hurried to comply.

“Okay, now put your arms out to your side, and spread out so you’re not too close to anybody.”

All right…

“Turn around, facing out from the center.”

I got it now. I could barely see the people on either side of me in my peripheral vision, and would have no idea what the others in the circle were doing.

Marcus recited the three choices to us again, to be sure we were clear on which number went with each option, and then he counted them off. “One!” I raised my hand. “Two!” I lowered my hand. “Three!” I kept my head down and waited, my heart in my throat, which didn’t make sense. I barely knew Ty, and it’s not like we were voting on whether or not to form a firing squad at dawn.

At Marcus’ command, we broke from our circle and gathered around for the result.

“Before I tell you the outcome,” he began, his expression deep in no-nonsense territory, “let me be very clear on one thing. This vote is final, and will not be discussed further. I don’t care if you think you know how somebody else voted, and you disagree. You will abide by this vote, and you will not give anybody any shit about it. I will not have dissent among this team, and if there is, we’re gonna have a different kind of vote. Understood?”

There were nods and nervous rumbles of agreement.

“All right then,” Marcus said with a sharp nod. “The vote results are as follows. Option three, to send Tyler Garrett back to the Compound with Monte and Phil on their return trip, received four votes. Three votes to provision Mr. Garrett and send him on his way. But the winner, with thirteen votes, is to accept Tyler Garrett as a provisional member of this team, with a final determination to be made prior to our arrival at the fallback location. That is the ruling.”

I heard some disgruntled comments, but I heard more people expressing relief and pleasure that we weren’t so jaded and broken that we couldn’t even give a person a chance anymore. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I completely agreed.

“Neil, I imagine you want to go check, make sure Wilhelm hasn’t chased everybody up into the hayloft, so go ahead and give Tyler the news. Then he can come get to know everybody a little better before we bed down for the night.” Marcus waited until Neil was on his way, sent a couple of guys off to stand guard, then turned back to the house. “C’mon, folks. I wanna get a look-see in that basement before we hit the sack.”

Once back inside, we automatically split into groups to accomplish the remaining evening tasks. I wasn’t feeling up to exploring a dark, dank, possibly zombie-infested basement, so I decided to help prepare beds for the night. I put Skip on the screen porch with the cats to keep him from roaming. Despite being a hound breed known for its ability to chase down small, fast-moving, furry creatures, Skip really loved cats. It was kind of creepy. He trotted to the corner where all four cats were sleeping in a pile, plopped down beside them, and contentedly tucked his nose under the chin of a big orange tom.

I turned and headed for the stairs, and looked over my shoulder to find Melissa and Faith tagging along. We discovered four bedrooms upstairs, but one was set up as a sewing room and lacked a bed.

Faith squinted one eye—this was her ‘thinking face’—and said, “Definitely not enough beds for everybody.”

What did she expect? “No, but we can maximize what we have.” I strode across the hall to the bedroom where Ty had been holed up earlier. “Here, help me move this.” I began tugging the heavy double mattress off the box springs.

The girls quickly caught on, and we soon had the mattresses off all three beds. “Box springs don’t look very comfortable,” Melissa noted, her expression skeptical.

“Better than the floor, or hanging off the loveseat in the sitting room.” I threw a blanket onto the box springs in the small back bedroom. “Besides, some of us will be on guard duty, and Neil and Patrick will most likely sleep in the barn, so we’ll be pretty close.” With the large sofa in the living room, and a comfy-looking recliner, we should be relatively comfortable tonight. No doubt we’d all slept in worse conditions.

We raided drawers and closets for pillows and blankets and distributed them the best we could among the bedrooms. There were plenty of blankets, quilts, and afghans, but pillows would definitely be first come, first served.

A whoop and some happy laughter drew us downstairs. We found Theo in the dining room, at the back of a crowd of at least a dozen people crammed into the kitchen. I clutched his arm and pushed up on my toes, trying to see into the room.

“What’s the source of all the merriment? I see a bunch of cans and some jars of something red.”

Theo threw an arm companionably around my shoulders. “Yes, jars of tomatoes and jams, labeled just last year, and a bunch of cans of indeterminate age.” He withdrew his arm and shoved his long, dark hair out of his face, revealing the oddly bright twinkle in his brown eyes. “Seriously, some of the cans aren’t even expired, but some almost qualify as antiques. We’ll use the good ones, but I’m thinking we’ll pass on the ones of something called Fruit Float, which appear to date to around 1974.”

I peered over his shoulder and saw Javier, who was actually smiling. “Javier isn’t smiling because of a jar of strawberry jam. I wasn’t even sure he could smile until just now.”

We were jostled out of the way by Davey, as he pushed past us carrying two big buckets of water and sloshing some of it on my shoe in the process. The chattering crowd parted to give him room to reach the large farm sink. Theo chuckled. “What you can’t see from here is the two cases of beer sitting on the table.”

Yep, that definitely explained the jovial mood. I started to do the math in my head, then decided it didn’t matter. I heard the rumble of Marcus’ laugh and knew he had things under control. “Twenty-three people won’t be getting drunk on two cases of beer.”

Theo nodded as we drifted back out to the living room and took seats on the couch. Melissa and Faith continued out onto the porch. “No, but everybody will get a couple bottles, which is enough to relax a little, not to mention do something that feels normal and reconnect a little bit after the friction earlier.”

He was right. An hour or two acting like a group of friends hanging out after a barbecue would go a long way to smoothing any ruffled feathers. We sat, lost in our own thoughts, and the sound of bottles clinking as they were jostled in the sink reminded me of family gatherings long past. It made me a little melancholy for a moment, missing those lost, innocent days, but I shook it off. This was my family now, and if we couldn’t find a brief, joyous interlude now and then, all the fighting had been for nothing.

Jocelyn and Neil came out of the kitchen, each carrying a beer. Neil tipped his bottle in our direction. “It’s not a frosted mug, but the well water’s giving it a nice chill. Better get yours before someone decides they’re up for grabs.”

Theo chuckled and nudged my shoulder. “He’s right. Let’s get ours while they’re semi-cool.”

We headed to the kitchen, each claiming two of the long-neck bottles to avoid making a second trip. Personally, I just wanted to find somewhere quiet, unwind, and then go make use of one of the mattresses before all the pillows were spoken for. I saw Ty speaking with Marcus, and both of them were smiling. That was a good sign.

I was standing in the entryway, deciding if I wanted to sit out on the front porch, or maybe go back to visit with Skip and the cats, when Ty stepped out of the living room to join me.

“Hey, Ellen, where you headed?” He leaned against the stair railing and took a long pull from his beer, looking like any other relaxed guy enjoying a house party. Was he flirting? I wasn’t sure I’d even recognize it if he were; it had been a long time.

“Not sure yet.” Was I supposed to say something cute? I was bad at this before, and the apocalypse hadn’t done anything to sharpen those skills.

I was saved from further analysis when Melissa and Faith entered through the front door. Melissa grinned when she saw me there with Ty. “Hey, Ty. Glad you’re sticking around.”

“Me too.” One side of his mouth curled up in an amused smile. Damn, was that a dimple?

“Just going to get our beer,” Faith chimed in, and they both trotted off with a wave.

“Beer?” Ty asked.

I took a deep drink of my own bottle of malty goodness before replying. “Yeah, sure. They’re seventeen, old enough to fight, so they’re old enough to have a beer if they want.”

“You’ve got a point. Guess old world rules don’t apply these days.”

I decided the front porch would be fine and stepped outside, Ty following behind me. “Thing is, the girls don’t even like beer. They’ll take one and split it.”

Ty settled beside me on the wooden swing at the far end of the porch. “Why bother, then?”

I pushed with one foot, setting the swing into gentle motion. “Token gesture, I guess. To feel like part of the team.”

“Yeah, being part of a group is important. I guess it always was in some way…to most people, anyway. But now it’s the difference between living and dying.” The shadow that crossed his face made it clear he was feeling the loss of his friends.

I drained my first bottle, set it on the floor against the side of the house, and placed my hand on Ty’s shoulder for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry about your friends. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to lose everyone all over again.”

Ty swallowed then took a breath, blowing it out slowly. “Thanks. That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you tonight.”

“Me? Why?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

I twisted the cap off my second beer, then flipped it to rest beside the empty bottle. “For what?”

Ty took my free hand and covered it with his on my thigh. “For speaking up for me today.” His gaze darted away, as if he were embarrassed or simply didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. “I’m used to being in charge most of the time. If there’s ass-kicking and name-taking goin’ on, I’m supposed to be the one doing it.” He gave a wry shake of his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I sure as hell don’t like being vulnerable, at anybody’s mercy, and first at the village, then here today, I wasn’t in control of anything, and it pissed me off so bad I almost lost it and went after Anton. Which would’ve been a real bad idea, I figure.”

I nodded. “Extremely bad.”

“I guess in some ways I’m still in shock. After what happened at the village, then with Tim, I was too busy running for my life to let things sink in. The first time I had to think was when I was trapped up in that room.”

“Run first, think later. Good rule for surviving these days.” I hoped my semi-flippant remark would make it easier for him to say what was on his mind.

He gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah, maybe we should write that down, huh?”

I nodded, drank, and gave him a moment to collect himself.

“When I saw you guys out the window, I had this surge of hope. Like maybe I could be a part of something again, be safe, and help build something. Then I remembered the people who took over the village. Didn’t know whether to stick around or try to sneak out a back window and run for it.” He glanced down and seemed surprised to find his hand still on mine. He pulled away quickly and moved his beer bottle to that hand.

“I’m glad you stayed.”

He gave another small, sad smile. “Me too, but it could’ve gone either way, on both sides. That Anton guy sure didn’t want me around.”

I snorted. “Anton’s a dick. Don’t take his attitude personally.”

“Nah, I get it,” he said. “But I think if you hadn’t stuck up for me, which gave me a minute to calm down, it all might’ve come out differently.”