Red Death: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (9 page)

Next, they moved to the oak trees, and Mary took out the sharp kitchen knife and sliced a large chunk of the fungus off the tree. She had to divide it up between both their bags it was so big, nearly two and a half feet long.

“I can’t wait to cook this!” Mary giggled. She finished distributing the mushroom and crouched to gather acorns next. “I can give some of this to Clyde on the way back,” Tara told her.

“We’re like a couple kids at Christmas, Mary!” That was okay, Tara thought. They’d been through so much, it was nice to have fun. She wasn’t even worried about the white vans, things were so quiet here in the neighborhood. She figured they must be off about their own business.

Tara led the way to the crabapple tree she remembered on the next street over. There was still no sign of life anywhere. They carefully picked some of the remaining small fruit from the tree and salvaged what they could on the ground. There was more left for later. They looped around, heading back, and Tara spotted a couple gardens on the way. She helped herself to a few green tomatoes still on the vines of one, and two small pumpkins at another. A rusted yard cart, the wheels intact, sat abandoned near the second one. Tara decided to take it, promising herself when things got back to normal, she would return it to its rightful owners. If they were still alive, that is. It was sturdy and ruggedly built, a bonus find.

The women’s sacks were bulging now, and they set them in the cart and made their way home. Tara was exhilarated yet sad that they had not seen one single person besides Clyde. Maybe they were hiding, but Tara didn’t get a sense of that. The houses stared back at them, blank and expressionless, as though their lifeblood had drained away.
I wonder what canned food is in there.
This thought occupied Tara all the way home.

They detoured to Clyde’s house and he was waiting for them on a bench beside his garden. Tara dug out a large chunk of mushroom from her bag, and Mary gave him some chestnuts and walnuts, as well as a few crabapples. He thanked them graciously, and asked them to come back. Tara promised they would.

On the final leg of the trip home, the gray plume of smoke rose ominously in the distance, and Tara kept her eyes fastened to it.
That’s where we’re headed tonight.

~

Commander Brent “Brick” Meyers stood gazing out the large picture window overlooking the Kmart parking lot. His headquarters in the second floor of the huge building kept him far enough away from the infected to be safe, but close enough to be at the heart of the action, as he liked. A soft knock at the door jerked him out of his angry reverie. It was time to rip somebody a new one, and this pansy-ass doctor, Clemons, was it.

“Come in, Doctor.” Meyers stood ramrod straight, his angled jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. He took in the doe-eyed, heavy-set doctor before him in one dismissive glance.
A fat slug.
Meyers regretted putting him in charge of the camp hospital, but doctors were at a premium. Luckily, he had another idea now.

“I understand you want to slow the donation process?”

The doctor seemed to cringe slightly under his verbal onslaught. He cleared his throat softly, apologetically almost, and Meyers wanted to punch him in the Adam’s apple and watch him choke to death.

“My recommendations were no more than twice a week, Commander. Our patients are suffering from dehydration after surviving the virus. Donating more than twice a week causes platelet depletion, weakness and even more dehydration. They’re dizzy, they fall, and they bleed a lot from minor injuries without the ability to clot. It can’t go on, we’re losing too many.”

Meyers felt his face redden and the vein in the middle of his forehead swell up. Fists clenched, he struggled to control his rage as the doctor watched him in growing alarm.

“That doesn’t concern you. What should concern you are my orders. Period.”

“I took an oath, the Hippocratic Oath, to never do harm. And your orders are harming—no, they’re killing them.”

“That will be all, Dr. Clemons, thank you.” The icy cold tone of Meyers’ voice dismissed the doctor. He turned and left the room. Another knock sounded directly after. A large man with a shaved head and rolls on his thick neck stuck his face in the door, eyebrows raised in question.

“Take care of that,” Meyers announced. The head retreated with a quick nod. Meyers turned back toward the window, planning the next stage in his operation.
We’re going to need a lot more people.

Chapter 9

Lee was nowhere in sight when they got back to the yard. As Tara walked past the fifty-five gallon drum, she peeked in, noticing the stick and peanut-butter-slathered toilet paper roll were now inside it.
Maybe he caught something!

The women lifted their heavy sacks out of the cart and carried them into the house. Lee was at the sink, and Tara caught a glimpse of a bloody pile of fur in the plastic garbage bag on the counter. There was a plate sitting there too, and on it was a neatly stacked pile of meat. There were also several containers of water. Lee turned with a smile. “We’re going to eat tonight!”

“We sure are. Great job, honey. Where’d the water come from?”

“I suddenly realized I could drain the pipes, duh.” Lee laughed at himself. “You open the highest faucet in the house just enough to take the suction off the line, then turn on the lowermost faucet and collect the water.”

Tara was thrilled, a little more water to work with. Lee had already emptied their toilet tank and water heater early on to collect what was there.

“Look at all this stuff we got.” She and Mary emptied their sacks on the counter, and Tara began sorting nuts into plastic bags. “We found tomatoes, pumpkins, nuts, mushrooms, acorns, and crabapples. It’s another feast! Plus we still have Celebration Stew left.”

“Too bad we drank all the wine,” Mary chimed in. They all laughed. Mary’s comment was punctuated with the overhead lights flashing back on. Mary echoed Tara’s quick gasp. Lee held up one hand patiently, waiting to see how long it would last this time. It was almost a full minute while they stood quietly staring at each other. Finally, the kitchen fixture flickered a couple times, and faded out. They all exhaled, and Mary, almost always optimistic said, “One of these times it will stay!”

Tara told Lee all about Clyde and his Gibson Girl WW2 radio. Lee looked sad when she relayed the information that the entire country was experiencing similar conditions. She gave Lee a hug. Having already somewhat resigned herself to this news, he was the one needing comforting now. Food was the best way to do that.

“Let me think about how to make a meal with this,” Tara said.

Lee started down the basement stairs to stoke the stove. She called down after him. “And Lee, pour some disinfectant on your hands after handling that squirrel meat just in case. I plan to cook it very well done. I guess we’ll soon find out if squirrels carry Ebola. If we don’t kill it by cooking—it will be about a week,” Tara told them. Lee shuddered. Mary looked frightened and changed the subject.

“Tara, I’m going to rinse and chop the crabapples. I’m thinking some dessert would be really nice—Crabapple Bread sounds pretty good to me.”

“Ooh, it does! The baking stuff is in the cupboard, Mary,” Tara pointed to the pantry. She was glad she had bought a lot of flour, sugar and the rest at the dollar store that day. There was plenty of that left. She imagined it would be hard to survive on just sugar and flour, but it could be done. Luckily, since she’d found the foraging book, it wouldn’t have to be done.

“But we don’t have any eggs!”

“Oh, we don’t need any eggs, my dear. I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Mary told her.

“Teach me,” Tara laughed. “Let me get this meat ready first.” The older woman smiled and agreed, gathering the flour, sugar and other ingredients.

Tara rinsed the meat, green tomatoes and mushrooms, then cubed them. She arranged it all in an iron skillet with a little olive oil and took it down to set on the woodstove.

Tara returned to find Mary measuring out ingredients. “I don’t know how this is gonna work without an oven, but I think I can make it in a skillet,” Mary told her.

Tara stood watching as Mary explained. “Here’s a basic sweet-bread recipe Tara—one cup of sugar, maybe a little more for these tart crabapples. Two cups of flour, a half cup of shortening, two teaspoons of salt, and a teaspoon of baking soda. Mix that together good. Now in place of milk, add a couple tablespoons of water to replace it. Milk is actually eighty-seven percent water.” Mary winked at Tara. “I taught a Home Ec. class once for about a year.” She continued to measure and mix. “And for each egg, two teaspoons of baking powder, two teaspoons of water and a tablespoon of oil will substitute. We need two eggs for this, so we’ll double that.” Mary added the ingredients.  “Finally, in go our two cups of chopped crabapples. Mix it all together in the skillet, and we’re ready to go!”

Tara stirred the batch of dough. “I can’t wait to try it!” She smoothed it down flat in the pan and sprinkled the top with sugar. She carried it down to the stove, already smelling the wonderful aroma of the meat and mushrooms cooking. Lee was tending the fire and stirring the frying food. When he caught a glimpse of the pan, his eyes grew big.

“Mmm, is that a cake?”

Tara laughed. “Well, thanks to Mary’s cooking skills, it’s going to be the closest thing to a cake we have at the moment—Crabapple Bread!”

Mary joined them around the cook-stove. Tara took over until the meat was very well done, and they all eyed it hungrily.  Tara poured a small amount of water into the pan, then sprinkled a bit of flour into the meat juices, and stirred until a nice gravy began to thicken. “Let’s leave this bread here to bake and go eat!”

Mary and Lee followed Tara upstairs to the kitchen. She dished out the meal with her mouth watering. This time, they gathered at the kitchen island, a little closer to the basement so Tara could check on the dessert.

“This is so damn good,” Lee said, chewing his first mouthful. Tara tried not to think of the little squirrels she’d fed for so many years. She said a silent prayer for them and thanked the Lord for providing. She took a bite of meat, tomato and mushroom all in one forkful. It was delicious. The tartness of the cubed green tomatoes, the savory richness of the mushrooms and gravy, and meaty tang of the squirrel all joined in the perfect blend of flavors. Mary agreed it was fantastic, and thanked Lee for the squirrel meat. He returned the thanks, grateful for their foraging spoils and they all ate in silence, enjoying the food immensely. Tara scraped up her last bite, and then ran, still chewing, down the steps to check on dessert.

The crabapple bread had taken much less time than the hour Mary said it took in an oven. In the shallow pan on top the stove, it was very nearly done. She poked into it with a spoon and the spoon came out clean. It was done enough! She carried it up to the kitchen and cut it in huge wedges, plopping each of them on a plate.

Tara leaned over, breathing in the fruity smell of the steaming, cake-like bread, then took a forkful. “Ooh Mary! Wow.”  It was tart and sweet, crumbly, and fabulous.

“Wait till you taste my pumpkin bread!” Mary announced as Tara rolled her eyes in food-ecstasy.

“I barely feel deprived, ladies,” Lee joked.

Mary laughed and nodded, working on her own wedge. “Pretty darn good for crabapples, if I do say so myself,” she mumbled around a mouthful.

Mary seemed happy, and Tara thought maybe she had somehow let go of her anguish over her daughter and grandson, possibly giving it over to God. She’d been much more stoic about it lately. Or maybe it was just the nearness of others now in her life. It certainly had helped Tara to have Mary there with them.

Tara thought about poor old Clyde, and pondered saving him a piece of the apple bread. She nodded to herself, deciding to. She could drop it off tonight on the way to the river. She wrapped a small wedge in tinfoil and explained to the others. Lee frowned a little, and Tara knew he was refraining from lecturing her on saving the food for just them. But the old man was so skinny, Tara felt compelled to do it. God bless him, he’d lived through so much history, it seemed wrong to let him starve to death, especially when they had enough to share and were able-bodied enough to find more.

They finished their supper in good spirits. The last anemic light of day shining through the slits in the boarded-up windows announced evening’s approach. 

“We have a little extra water since you drained the pipes, Lee, but I think we may as well go to the river to get more. We’ll need it soon enough.”

“I agree. No time like the present,” Mary said, “and we never know what tomorrow may bring.”

~

The women waited until full dark, then changed into black clothes and their darkest coats. The river ran alongside the Kmart camp, far too close for comfort really, but Tara also needed to see the bonfires almost as much as she needed to get water. Ever since Lee speculated they were burning bodies, she wanted to know the truth.

Tara loaded their new yard cart with every container that would fit. Water was heavy and it would be a struggle to get the cart home with it full. But they had to do it, there were no other options. Tara gave serious consideration to taking her car, but it was just too risky. Risk assessment had become a full time job. She’d already thought about going next door into her old neighbor Marla’s house to drain her pipes, water heater and toilet. Maybe even see what was in her pantry. However, the thought of the germs that might still linger on surfaces there stopped her. She discussed it with Lee and he agreed it was too dangerous. Mary had already drained her own water resources, so that was out. The river was their main source. It was either that, or all the other seemingly abandoned neighborhood homes. But Tara knew how she and Lee had holed up inside their own house, and she didn’t want to risk getting shot either.

Tara turned back to see Lee leaning on his crutch watching as they started out the backyard pulling the cart full of water jugs and containers. It was going to be a cold night, and her breath escaped in a frosty cloud. She and Mary waved at him silently. The expression on Lee’s face stayed with her for a while; fear and helplessness. Tara had never seen him wear either one.

  ~

The yard cart full of jugs and containers glided smoothly down the country road at the edge of town. Tara was grateful it didn’t squeak or rattle. The bitter cold night air burned her lungs and had numbed her nose within two minutes of leaving the house. Hillocks of tufted grass, crisp with frost, sparkled at the roadside as though reflecting the vast starry sky above. The moon was nearly full and cast a lot of light, but unfortunately, that also meant they were much more visible.

“There’s a path that goes down to the river on just this side of the gravel pit,” Tara whispered to Mary, her breath hanging in frozen clouds. The older woman nodded.

“I want to get a look at that bonfire too.” Mary answered.

They detoured to Clyde’s backyard first, and Tara placed the tinfoil-wrapped slice of crabapple bread inside his screen door, smiling at the thought of the old man finding it. Yes, times were hard, and they might well all starve before winter was over, but she’d be damned if he starved alone. She’d come to realize there wasn’t much separating them from the bad guys in times like these, and she was determined to draw a line somewhere.
The quality of mercy is not strained.
Will Shakespeare always said it best.

The road overlooking the gravel pit and Kmart took a sharp right-angle turn, and the path to the river cut into the brush just on the other side of it. Tara could see it straight ahead. She had explored here often, searching for arrowheads and fossils in the pit, picking black raspberries in summertime. She’d discovered early on that a huge concrete, man-sized drainpipe ran back toward town, probably under the very road they walked on.

Tara peered into the gravel pit as they passed it and started down the path, almost unable to tear her eyes away. Mary did too.

“Mary, look. There’s a ton of new construction going up!” Rows of long, barracks-like buildings lined both sides of the pit now, stretching around the corner onto the huge parking lot out front. They both stood puzzling over this for a moment.
They must be expecting way more people.

Mary’s daughter was down there somewhere, and it struck Tara how calm the older woman was. Not knowing whether her daughter and precious grandson were alive or dead must be terrible. Especially with what was going on there now. Uneasy at the smoke billowing up from behind the building, Tara hoped to get close enough to see for certain what was happening. But first, they needed water.

The path descended steeply, and Tara worried briefly how she would pull the yard cart full of water back up; maybe with Mary behind pushing. As silently as possible, Tara led the way with Mary holding the rear of the cart to keep it from sliding sideways down the steep hill. They came out onto a level plateau along the riverbank. It was surprisingly well lit, and they could see each other clearly. The shelf of land they stood on was about twenty feet wide and interspersed with mature trees. A ring of stones gave away the spot’s use for camping. It was a pretty place, but beer cans in the weeds announced that mostly kids used it. The moon reflected off the water and the only sound was the river rushing past, two feet below the bank.

“C’mon, Mary, let’s get these filled.”

They pulled the cart as close to the edge of the river as possible and divvied up the jugs. Tara was relieved to see not much ice had formed along the banks, the water was moving too fast. They each leaned over to fill the jugs, which was a slow process.

Tara had to take one mitten off to get a firm grip on the jug handle, and her fingers were soon numb and clumsy with cold. After the first batch was filled, the large open Tupperware boxes came next. Tara suddenly realized these would slosh their contents out on the trip up the hill. “Mary, don’t fill these as full, or we’re going to lose a lot on the way back.”