Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) (12 page)

Jake voicelessly mouthed,
What an
asshole
and nodded at Benjamin behind his back.

She rolled her eyes, nodded, and gave Jake
the silent reply of,
You have no idea.

Neither did Kat make a last-minute appearance
to free him as the trio had loaded O'Connor over the tailgate, none
too gently thanks to the handcuffs biting into his wrists. He'd
been a little worried at that point, right up until he noticed the
small, plastic 'Hello Kitty' figurine in the bed next to an empty
Monster Energy Drink can. Jake had palmed the one inch figurine
unnoticed as he scooted up to put his back against the cab, and
shoved it discreetly into his right rear pocket. While not the most
comfortable place for it, the little Kitty let him know there was a
Kat on their tail.

Jake and his captors rode for just over two
miles through the empty streets, making their way to a grain
storage facility next to a set of disused railroad tracks. Ben
hopped out and opened the padlock on a chain securing the nearby
access gate, then Penny drove them through as Jerry kept a watchful
eye on Jake. There were at least ten, large concrete silos along
with the main building, more than enough room for a group of
survivors to safely remain indefinitely provided they could locate
food, clean water, and other necessities. Some few corpses littered
the ground around the fence, but there weren't any walking ones
nearby.

O'Connor believed that would change
shortly.

Penny's truck was
loud.
Easily heard
over a great distance by curious dead ears. A horde as large as the
one Jake and Kat had evaded was bound to have noticed the Chevy's
throaty growl as they'd motored back from the school. It was only a
matter of time until zombies began staggering up to the grainery
fence-line, then whoever was within the building would most likely
be up Shit Creek. After just taking a two day trip on said waterway
while trapped in Old Hall, Jake fervently hoped he and Kat would be
long gone by then. If not, there was an excellent chance they'd end
up assuming room temperature along with whoever else was
inside.

“There's Will up on the roof.” Jerry pointed
back over Ben's shoulder. Jake could clearly see a solitary figure,
holding some kind of scoped hunting rifle, atop one of the silos
waving at them disinterestedly.

Benjamin spat next to the truck tire before
climbing back into the cab. “That guy's a pussy.”

“You're just still mad Rebecca took his side
and not yours.” Penny laughed and set their truck in motion. “Where
did you want to hole up again? The firehouse, wasn't it? Yeah, that
would've worked out well. You do remember what happened at Town
Hall on the second day of the outbreak, right?”

“Piss off, dyke. It would've been better than
squatting here. At least it was next to the Costco.” Ben crossed
his arms and rolled down his window. “Had to be something to drink
in there... Haven't had anything for weeks, except that foofy
micro-brew you sissies like so much. Gimme a bottle of Southern
Comfort instead, any day.”

“You have no taste at all.” Penny drove her
truck up a pair of dock doors, then killed the engine. “And I told
you to stop with that 'dyke' shit.”

Benjamin snorted. “Why? It's true. You do
chicks. That makes ya 'a dyke.”

“No, dipshit, that makes me
bisexual.
I like guys too. And fuck you.”

“Name one guy you've done,.” Benjamin
demanded.

“Will.” Penny pointed to the roof-line.

“Bullshit.” Jerry remained unconvinced. “You
did not.”

Penny shrugged. “Don't take my word for it,
ask him. He'll tell you. Screwed like horny howler monkeys, right
there where you're sitting.”

“Ah, god!” Benjamin all but dove through the
door in his haste to vacate his seat.

Jake laughed aloud and the Ben shot him an
angry look which he ignored.

“What are you laughing at fuck-tard?” he
demanded

“Who are you calling 'fuck-tard', you
fuck-tard?” Jake mocked.

Ben glowered at him. “You think that's funny
shit-head?”

“Dunno what you're talking about shit-head,”
Jake continued.

Mullet-head Ben took an angry step toward
him. “You know what? Keep on going, and I'm gonna fuck up that
pretty mouth of yours, but good.”

O'Connor managed to keep a straight face.
“I'm not into blowing guys. But thanks for the offer.”

Ben's face turned deep purple and he put one
hand on the Browning at his hip.

“Ben! What in the blue Hell is going on out
here??”

That was yelled by a rather portly woman
standing just inside the dock door with several other survivors.
She wasn't 'fat' per say, just healthy looking, like one of those
Renaissance era paintings of pale-skinned women reclining on
couches.

Interesting how the standards of beauty
have changed down through the ages,
Jake mused
thoughtfully.

She had a pair of antique Colt wheel-guns
worn gunslinger-style across her hips over, what could only be
termed: a moo-moo. The unflattering teal, floral patterned dress
clashed horribly with the woman's hiking boots, and she was
actually wearing bifocals.

She gave Jake a visual once-over. “Is this
one of the people you saw Benjamin?”

“Yeah, that's him. Sure of it.” Ben seemed to
deflate under the older woman's scrutiny, but continued to look
daggers in Jake's direction. “You ask me, we should just dump him
outside and let them deaders eat his ass.”

“That's enough. You know we need everyone we
can find.” Moo-moo lady strode outside and hopped from the dock's
edge to the ground. “Has he been searched?”

Penny spoke up. “Yep. Did that first thing.
He had a pretty nice Glock and this monstrosity.” She patted Jake's
Hammer repeater, still stuffed in her waistband.

“No rifle?” Moo-moo asked.

“Not unless he stashed it somewhere before we
caught him. Or left it with the woman.” Penny shook her head.
“Couldn't find her though.”

“Well, with any luck we'll be able to track
her down too. It's getting more and more difficult to locate
survivors, and there are too few of us as it is. If not for Will's
ability with that rifle of his, half of us would be on fence duty
every day. He was a godsend.” Moo-moo came to a halt in front of
Jake. “What's your name, young man?”

Jake kept his mouth shut and took a good look
around. Besides Penny, Jerry, Benjamin, Will up on the roof, and
Moo-moo lady, there were a trio of men still visible inside the
door. The writer could hear obvious sounds of humanity within the
grainery, but wasn't able to come up with a viable number for how
many other people might be inside.

Moo-moo motioned to Penny. “We can dispense
with the handcuffs, Deputy. I believe our new friend will mind his
manners.”

“He still has that big knife.” Penny gazed
pointedly at the Ka-Bar Tanto still riding Jake's left shoulder
over his tactical vest.

“True, but I doubt he'd be one to attempt
cutting my throat while surrounded by people holding loaded
firearms.” Moo-moo almost smiled.

Penny didn't look pleased, but removed Jake's
cuffs. Once his hands were free, he began rubbing his chafed wrists
as she stuck the metal restraints in her back pocket again. Moo-moo
noticed Ben's fingers continued to tickle the pommel of his
Browning, gave an exasperated sigh, and pointed him towards the
door. “Benjamin, go tell Paula we have an additional person to feed
tonight. She'll have to add to whatever she's making, or we'll be
short a plate.”

Ben grudgingly obeyed, but looked back at
Jake as he entered the grainery with murder in his eyes. Jake
smiled back pleasantly, then flipped him the bird. Once half of the
Ice Cream Team was gone, Moo-moo turned to Jake once more and
extended her hand.

“Rebecca Lewis, and your name is?”

Jake considered ignoring her hand, then
though better of it. He didn't play the squeeze game so many men
engaged in and just shook hers firmly. “Jake.”

“No last name?” Rebecca asked.

“Does it matter?”

She shrugged. “Not anymore. Would you care to
join us for dinner, Just Jake?”

“Do I have any choice?” Jake looked pointedly
around at her people, still giving him the stink-eye, guns in
hand.

“Not really.” Rebecca told him.

* * *

“Well, it's no cheeseburger.” Jake mumbled to
himself.

That was yet another thing he hated about
life in the zombie apocalypse. No bacon double cheeseburgers to be
had.

Period.

Dinner consisted of a paste-like stew, made
primarily from barley, whole oats, and rolled corn. It did contain
small rounds of what he assumed were Vienna sausages, just to break
up the monotony, but they were scattered throughout sparsely at
best. Someone had attempted to give the gruel-like dish a little
flavor by adding a bit of chicken bouillon, but all that really did
was make the stew so incredibly salty it was nigh inedible. Jake
powered through the awful mixture, wryly, noting he'd never be able
to eat oatmeal again without thinking of the glop on his spoon now.
MREs were gourmet dining by way of comparison.

Rebecca came to sit with him at the rickety
folding table he'd commandeered, choosing to remain away from the
other survivors gathered in the center of their grainery. He didn't
think any of them were lowlifes or homicidal maniacs... Well, with
maybe the exception of Benjamin, but he really didn't want to
socialize either. Maybe they were good people, but they weren't
his
people. Besides it had been almost three days since Jake
and Kat lead a horde away from their friends, and he missed Laurel.
And Kat. And the others, of course. But he wanted to get back to
Laurel,
right now.

“May I join you?” The matronly Moo-moo
wearing, Rebecca Lewis inquired.

“I'm pretty much done.” Jake pushed his bowl
away, pulled the pack of American Spirits from his vest pocket,
took one out, and used his well-abused Zippo to light up. It wasn't
that he particularly felt like having a cigarette and that moment,
but doing so usually discouraged unwanted company. At least in the
pre-zombie, politically-correct, nanny culture that the United
States had become. Not so any longer. Rebecca plopped into the
chair opposite him and began eating her bowl of yuck with gusto,
even with Jake blowing smoke out through his nostrils in her
direction.

“I wanted to let you know we've got a small
meeting ceremony right after the meal. I didn't want you to
disappear just yet.” Rebecca smiled winningly as she finished her
stew. “We kind of celebrate finding anyone who's still alive
nowadays, and a few of us wanted to welcome you to our group.”

“Uh-huh. No offense, but who says I'm
staying?” Jake blew a smoke ring and leaned back in his chair.
“Your people all but brought me here with a gun to my head. What
gives you the impression I'm not leaving the first chance I
get?”

Rebecca sighed and folded her hands together
on the tabletop. “Jake, I realize we didn't make a good impression
on you. Benjamin is missing a few personality traits, like the
ability to actually think
before
he speaks, Jerry isn't the
brightest bulb in the box either, and Penny can come across as a
bit abrasive—”

Jake grunted. “I was going to say 'Like a
bitch', but we'll go with abrasive.”

“Be that as it may, you have to understand
that these people have been through a lot. We've had no contact
with any level of authority, there's been no information broadcast
in weeks—and trust me, we've been listening for someone, anyone,
via CB and shortwave—and those creatures outside have everyone
frightened nearly out of their minds.” Rebecca spread her hands,
palms up. “Can you blame us if we're a little on edge?”

O'Connor took a long drag on his cigarette
and crossed his arms. “If you mean a little on edge as in 'we're
going to kidnap and detain anyone we cross paths with', then no,
how could I blame you for that?”

Rebecca looked at him sadly. “Jake, even if
we did let you just walk out of here, where would you go? The
country, the whole world has been overrun by those things out
there. There's no government, no infrastructure... Hell, there's
not even a safe place to
sleep
for the night outside these
walls.”

“I got along just fine. Until your crew
pointed guns in my face.” He was unconvinced. Rebecca and these
people had no knowledge of Foster's pink, zombie-proof dreadnaught,
The Screamin' Mimi, and Jake had no intentions of telling them
about it either. Regardless of her proclaimed good intentions, it
wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Rebecca could view
such a machine as too good to pass up and demand his party join up
with hers, or just surrender the Mimi altogether in exchange for
his release.

“What did you do before all this?” Jake was
genuinely curious.

With a chuckle, Rebecca admitted, “I was a
professor of Religious Studies at the University of Cincinnati,
specializing in the tribal customs of early man.”

That was surprising. “Really? How did you end
up here?”

“I was on my way to Pittsburgh to visit
friends when the zombies rose. There were so many, even here, I
reasoned that my best chance to survive would be to stay away from
major cities.” Rebecca's eyes were far away as she spoke. “So I
remained here, found this place and began gathering whoever I
could. Saved a few, lost more, but we've managed to hold out.
There's a large reservoir just above on the hillside that feeds a
gravity system so water isn't a problem, at least not so far. We
scavenge the nearby area for specialty items, but most of what we
need food-wise we obtain from the silos here. ”

Jake nodded without comment.

Rebecca motioned toward his half-consumed
bowl of glop as she looked over her shoulder towards the other
members of her group. “Not extremely satisfying I know, but it
beats starvation. It seems everyone is almost ready to proceed.
Would you come with me, please?”