Into the Badlands (19 page)

“Don’t count on that, friend,” Ed replied.

“Would it be safe to say that everybody wants to put the guns down?” Mitchell asked. Still no response; he continued regardless. “Well, I didn’t hear a no, so I’m going to assume the answer is yes. So, let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that everybody lowers those guns at the same time. I could give a count, say to three maybe, then everybody puts the guns back into their holsters, pockets, or wherever they choose to keep ‘em. Then we all talk. Would everybody be willing to consider that?”

Ed responded first. He wanted desperately to end the standoff and keep the boys safe. “I’d consider it, provided they do the same.”

Dave thought about himself. They didn’t seem like bandits or thieves, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to give up any advantage, but he was beginning to think he had no advantage anyway. If they resorted to gunfire then somebody on both sides was going to die. He’d seen enough of that already. And if that guy was as good as he claimed, he'd pick the rest of them off in seconds.

“I’d be willing too, provided they follow through,” Dave said. He hoped he wasn’t making another bad decision. He was quickly learning that some things were just going to be out of his hands.

“Well shit, this thing’s about as good as settled. I’m gonna count to three then, just like I said I would. On three let’s see all the guns lowered.”

He took a breath, and then counted. “One, two, three.”

At first, no one moved. Then, within a few seconds, gun barrels began to lower and point to the ground. Everyone stood there for a minute, waiting to see what happened. Then Dave suddenly sat down on the ground, placing Brenda’s gun beside him. They stayed this way for some time, as if to test the newly formed truce.

Eventually Mitchell broke the silence. He whistled as he exhaled. “Whew, that was a doozy. Now, any of you folks drink coffee?”

And with that the standoff was over.

Both groups sat on opposite sides of the aisle in the warehouse, atop the wooden boards that made up the surface of the lowest shelf. Dave, Brenda, and Tammy sat on one side; Ed, Trish, Zach, and Jeremy sat on the other. Trish sat beside Ed; both boys were in front of him. Dave sat between Brenda and Tammy, his face in his hands. Brenda placed a hand on his back, and kept it there. Tammy stared at the concrete floor. No one spoke.

Mitchell was off getting coffee for his new guests. A few minutes later he returned with a small propane burner, two coffee pots, and the plastic filter cup from an automatic coffee maker. The cup was lined with a paper filter and filled with coffee grounds. One of the coffee pots was filled with water; the other was empty. He set up the contraption on the floor between the two parties.

“Instructions say not to burn this indoors, but I figure this place is so big and drafty it might as well be outside,” he said. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, then turned on the propane burner, touching the yellow flame to the invisible flow of gas. It leapt into a strong, blue flame upon contact with the fumes. He adjusted the flame lower, then placed the coffee pot full of water on top of the burner to boil.

“Even after the fall of civilization I still have to have my coffee,” he mused. “Some things never change, it seems.” He sat on the floor, his back against one of the shelves, then crossed his legs. “Carriers don’t come in here much despite how much food there is. Seems like they can’t get the boxes open. God is ironic.”

He turned to Ed. “So Ed, headed west, eh? How long you been on the road?”

“Two years, give or take,” Ed replied.

“Where’d you come from?”

“Border town, along the east coast. It never really had a name, at least not one worth a shit. Once the food ran out we took to the road.”

“The four of you?”

“No,” Trish interjected. “Ed and his boys found me a few weeks ago. I was pretty bad off. They nursed me back to health.” She didn't mention being kidnapped by Trey and the others; neither did Ed.

Mitchell smiled. “You’re a good man, Ed. Too many folks leaving other folks for dead nowadays. It’s the way of world now, I suppose, but it’s a trend worth bucking.”

He paused for a moment, looked at the Zach and Jeremy, then turned back to Ed. “Those are some fine looking boys you got there, Ed,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ed said.

“It’s a miracle you still got ‘em, safe and sound, you know.”

“I do,” Ed replied. “It’s the only thing I know for sure anymore.”

Mitchell nodded, then paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Ed wondered what he might be thinking about. He thought better than to ask; he had his own demons he didn’t necessarily want to discuss. No doubt Mitchell had his too.

Then suddenly Dave looked up from his hands at Mitchell. “You could have been killed back there. Why did you step in? Why risk it? Why not just snipe us all from a distance?”

Mitchell took a deep breath, then exhaled. “‘Cause it was the right thing to do,” he replied.

“That’s it?” Dave asked.

“Well sure. Ain’t that reason enough?”

“Things aren’t that simple anymore.”

“Actually,” Mitchell replied, “they are.” He took a deep breath. “Look, there are two lists in life; a list of things we
can
do and a list of things we
should
do. I work off the second one. Just because you
can
do a thing doesn’t always mean you
should
.”

Steam began to rise from the water in the coffee pot. Mitchell turned off the burner, then removed the pot from the heat just before it came to a boil. He slowly poured the hot water through the coffee grounds, filling the empty pot with dark, rich coffee. The strong smell of brewing coffee filled the air around them. It reminded Ed of Saturday mornings at home, back in his previous life, when he still had the luxury of taking freedom and safety for granted.

“It ain’t so bad in this place,” Mitchell continued as he poured the hot water through the coffee grounds. “It's drafty and cold in the winter, but pretty damn nice right about now. Damn near anything you’d need too; food, supplies, or what have you.

“I sleep up high, on the tip top of one these shelves. It’s high enough to be out of the way, but also high enough to make me a bit nervous. The deadwalkers don’t seem to come in here too much, but every now and then one of those poor bastards will wander around until it finds its way back out again.”

“Did you come from one of the border towns, or were you just unlucky enough to get left behind with the unwanted few?” Brenda asked.

Mitchell poured the rest of the water through the coffee grounds, then proceeded to pour the coffee into the Styrofoam cups. He handed a cup to all the adults, then he turned to Zach and Jeremy. “Since you boys likely don’t drink coffee I think I might be able to round up some juice boxes, maybe even some candy bars once we get through all our jabbering here. Provided it’s okay with your dad.”

Ed nodded. Zach and Jeremy beamed at the opportunity for sweets.

Brenda thought Mitchell had forgotten about her question until he finally answered. “I never made it to the border. I lived in West Virginia, which ain’t that far away from all those towns that sprung up around Virginia Beach right after the outbreak”

He sat down on the floor, leaning against the shelves, then continued. “Back before the government disappeared they were sending folks to the coast in army trucks. I headed west; business to take care of. Turned out that didn’t quite work out for me, so I just kept going. I guess I’ve been on the road for about three years now.

“One thing you got wrong though; there were more left behind than went to the coasts. There were lots of reasons; not enough trucks, not enough money to bribe the army, or just not important enough to take. Most of the ones left behind aren’t around anymore to tell you themselves. Most of the ones that didn’t take sick shortly after the outbreak were ate by the ones that did.

“I can tell you this, though; they’re dying off. It’s slow, but I think it’s happening. That first year, I ain’t quite sure how I made it. I guess the good Lord musta been watching out for me. They were everywhere then, and they were in better shape too. A lot of ‘em wasn’t even paralyzed yet. They were pretty fast.” He chuckled lightly. “I guess I was faster.”

“That business you had to take care of; when that fell through why didn’t you go back to the coast?” Trish asked.

“I guess I could probably ask you the same question,” he replied, smiling.

“Fair enough,” she replied.

“Wasn’t no sense in it. I was by myself, the borders were more than full, and I figured I’d do just as well out here on my own. Seemed I was better off seein' to myself than having someone see to me.”

“Amen to that,” Tammy chimed in.

Mitchell turned his attention toward Tammy. “She speaks!” he joked. “What's your story, young lady? How’d you end up out here in these badlands?”

“Army trucks saved the trailer parks for last,” she replied. “And by last I mean not at all. We were kinda like third class on the Titanic; just weren’t enough life boats left.”

“Sink or swim,” he said thoughtfully.

“And I’m swimming,” she answered.

Mitchell nodded. Silence ensued as the adults drank their coffee. Zach played with his toy car while Jeremy played with the three army men he carried everywhere. No one spoke for several minutes. The light was beginning to wane outside; subsequently the skylights were losing their power to illuminate.

Dave spoke, breaking the silence. “Look, Ed, I apologize for what happened back there. I’m not bad - we’re not bad - people here. I just lost my wife and our friend to some thieves in a standoff just like that one. It was sorta deja vu back there, and I guess I went a little nutty. These girls saved my life, so I wanted to protect them. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes as last time.”

Ed looked directly at him. He gently moved the boys out of his way, then walked over to where Dave sat. He extended his hand; Dave shook it.

“We're good,” Ed reassured him. “Nobody got hurt. We can thank Mitchell here for that.”

“Here, here,” Brenda said emphatically, raising her coffee cup and smiling. “And thanks for the joe.”

Mitchell smiled back. “You’re welcome, missy. It’s nice to have visitors, despite the circumstances under which we made our acquaintance. And seeing those boys just made my day. Reminded me of...well, never mind all that.” He trailed off, staring into the distance, lost in thought for a few moments. He then stood up, groaning as his knees and ankles popped and cracked. He surveyed his guests, smiled, then spoke again, clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

They ate a hearty meal, at least by post-outbreak standards, consisting of canned tomatoes and corn, Vienna sausages, and strawberry preserves. As promised, Mitchell had a stack of candy bars that the boys were allowed to choose from. Jeremy chose a Snickers bar, and Zach had a Butterfinger. The boys were ecstatic to have such a treat, particularly after meals were so sparse during the winter.

The group made idle chat during dinner, with periods of silence falling in between. They discussed things like the coming spring and shared some anecdotal accounts of their time spent on the road. Those stories consisted mostly of long periods of boredom, scattered with intense interaction with the infected. It was very much like war in that sense, Ed mused.

Dave did not mention what he thought he’d heard the child carrier in the 7-Eleven say; he wasn’t sure anymore if he’d actually heard it at all. He had been through a lot of stress over the past month. That added up, and it could have a strange effect on a person. It wasn’t impossible that given enough stress a person could start to hear things. Maybe they could even see things that weren't quite there.

The light inside the warehouse faded even more quickly than the light outside the building. The skylights were almost completely dark by the time they finished with dinner and discussion. Mitchell produced a flashlight so they could find their way back to where he slept. He told them he had dozens of flashlights; along with enough batteries to power them for a “good long while”. Just one of the many benefits of shacking up in a warehouse super store.

Mitchell led them through a series of aisles until he arrived at the aisle containing the shelf on which he slept. There was a long, aluminum ladder leading up to the top shelf.

“That’s where I sleep,” he told the group, shining the flashlight on the shelf. They could see various items placed on the shelf, one of which was a cot. “I used to pull that ladder up every night, but for a man my age that’s a lot of work. Plus, I was afraid that one day I’d just fall right off on my damn head trying to lift it. All that’s changed now.”

He beamed with satisfaction as he shined the light on a rope tied to the top of the ladder. It ran through a support joist in the ceiling, the other end lying on the shelf above them.

“Now I use a rope. I pull this rope and it lifts the ladder off the ground, then I tie the rope off to the shelf. It keeps the ladder out of reach of those pitiful things out there, should they decide to pay me a little visit during the night. Helluva lot easier on the back, too. They can’t seem to climb too well, least not these shelves, but I don’t want to make it any easier on ‘em by giving them a invitation.”