The King of Clayfield - 01 (31 page)

"Are you sure
 
you want to stock
 
up and hole up?"
 
I said. "Haven't you been bored at all?”

"A
 
little," she said, "but I'm
 
a homebody. I've never liked going out much."

"I don't know if I'll be able to just hang out here all the time," I said.

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do," she said.
 
"But if we could ever get any real time alone, I think I could help alleviate your boredom."

We drove the pickup because we didn't want to alarm
 
Charlie by arriving in
 
a different vehicle. We pulled up in his driveway a little after 9 a.m. The old Cutlass was gone.
 
The gas cans were gone, too. I knocked on the
 
storm door, but he didn't answer.

I opened the door, and a piece
 
of paper that had been wedged between the door and frame fell to the carport. It was a note from Charlie.

It
 
said
:

I have to
 
know if Katie is
 
okay.
 
My brother has a little boat. I'm going to get it and cross the river. I probably won't be back. Take what you need from the house.
 
Be careful.
 
Charlie

When I got back to the truck, I handed the note to Jen. She read it and passed it over to Sara.

"We'll come back and
 
get whatever is left of his kerosene and food," I said.

"He'll never make it," Jen said. "She's probably gone now anyway."

"I know," I said, "but I can't blame him.
 
He's just been sitting in that house all this time. He had to be losing it in there."

"At least he was alive," Jen said, sounding kind of defensive.

"That's no life."

"What do you want to do then?"

We weren't talking about Charlie anymore.

"I don't know," I said. "Right now, I want to go collect supplies."

"Only because I want to do that," she said. "What do
you
want?"

"Why doesn't anyone ever ask what I want?" Sara said. "Why do you treat me like
 
I'm not here?"

It was shaping up to be an awesome day.

Jen and I looked over at Sara who was sitting next to the
 
passenger door.

"Well?" Jen said. "Tell us."

"I think
 
Charlie was right to find his daughter.
 
I think we should find more survivors, too."

"You could go live with Mr. Somerville," Jen said.
 
"That's what he wants to do."

"You keep saying that,"
 
Sara said. "You don't like having me around. You think
 
I'm a
 
naive kid because I don't talk much, but I know why you
 
want me to leave."

"I
 
don't see any reason why you shouldn't be happy," Jen said. "If you want to look for others, then you should."

"You want me to leave because you feel threatened by me," Sara said. "I know what's going on--"

"Bullshit! I--"

"Stop!" I said. "We have a lot of stuff to do today, and
 
it is going to be dangerous, and we have one less person helping us. Let's
 
focus, okay?"

"No," Jen said. "If the two of you don't want to do this, then go do what you want to do. I can do this by myself."

"Jen, you can't do this by yourself," I said. "That's the point. None of us can do this alone."

They were both quiet.

"Jen," I said, "I
 
agree that it is wise to go out and collect supplies. There is no need for us to have to go out every day looking for food or fuel. It's too dangerous.

"But, I also agree with Sara. We should be trying to find others. We don't have to all
 
live together, but we should help each other. If you don't want to go out, then you don't have to. I won't go every day, but I will be going. I need more of a purpose than just existing."

"It wouldn't be
just
 
existing
" Jen replied softly. "I plan on having a real life for once."

"I plan on that, too," I said, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Now let's focus on what we have to do today."

CHAPTER 31

We approached Clayfield from the south. Our destination was the big chain stores and strip malls. The closer
 
we got to the south side of town, the more congested it became.
 
There was a long line of abandoned vehicles
 
in both directions leading to the front
 
entrance of Wal-Mart. Across the street from Wal-Mart was Lowes Home Improvement and a little
 
rental place.
 
Both of their entrances were blocked.

We turned around and
 
entered the Lowes parking lot through the back and
 
accessed the rental store that way. Our
 
first goal was to get a moving
 
truck.

There were infected everywhere.
 
Some were still in their cars, unable to figure out how to open their doors. They'd been trapped in there for more than a week without
 
food and water, yet they were still alive.

I parked in front of the rental store. There were two big box trucks parked out front. All of the infected in the street and in the Lowes parking lot started making their way toward us. They were slow but deliberate.

I got out.

"Honk if they get close," I said. "Be sure to give me enough time to get back."

Jen scooted over to the driver's seat.

"Be careful," she said.

I ran inside the store. I had no idea where they kept the keys, but I figured they would be behind the counter or in the office. I didn't see them out in the open, so I was opening drawers in the office desk when the horn honked. I ran back outside, and got in next to Sara.

"I didn't find them," I said. "Let's draw them away from the building, and we'll come back and try again."

Jen pulled away slowly, and the people followed.

"The keys might be in the register," she said.

"If that is so, then we won't be able to get them without electricity," I said.

She pulled around the other side of the building back toward Lowes.
 
She neared the corner of the Lowes store,
 
through a cluster of cars and stopped.

On the outside edge of the group of cars was a black Porsche 911.

"As far as I know there's only one person in Clayfield that has one of those," she said.

There were too many infected around for us to get out of the truck. So Jen drove slowly around to the rear of
 
Lowes. The crowd followed us. When she got near the loading bays, she sped up, leaving them behind.

"I don't know why he would be here," she said. "He should have
 
gone to Blaine's house like he said he would."

"Maybe he's looking for supplies like us," I said.

"In a Porsche?"

"You told him to drive it," I said.

When we came back around the building, we saw three men
 
hurrying away from the front of the store--from the entrance farthest away from us. One of them was almost to the Porsche. The other two were headed to a blue pickup truck. We presumed they were infected like the rest, but then they all turned to look at us, and they were wearing masks.
 
One of them pulled a pistol from a holster at his side. Another waved at us with both arms as if to attract our attention.

Jen started to creep forward.

"What do you think?" she said. "That one looked like he was going to get into Brian's car."

"They're armed," I said.

"So are we."

"They could be nice," Sara said. "We should at least go talk to them."

"Stop the truck," I said. "I'll walk up there and say hello. If there is any trouble, I'll pull my mask down to signal you. Don't
 
question, just do
 
your best with the rifle, then get the hell away from here. Don't lead them back to the stables."

"Why don't I just pull up there, and--"

"No," I said. "Stop the truck. If something happens, in a couple of days try to find Mr. Somerville. Okay?"

Jen nodded.

I stuffed one of the revolvers down the front of my pants and got out.
 
I was more scared right then than I had been since it all started. At least
 
I knew the intentions
 
of the infected. These were healthy men, and I had
 
no idea what sort of men they were.

My legs felt wobbly as I approached them.
 
The
 
one that waved
 
came out to meet me.
 
He was a big guy in new clothes. There was even a tag still
 
on the sleeve of
 
his brown Carhartt coat. He was wearing a black cowboy hat, and he had a machete hanging from his belt. I didn't see a gun, but I figured he had one stashed away somewhere.

"G' mornin'," he said.

"Good morning," I said.

"It's good to see there's more people out and about," he said. He looked past me to the truck. "How many of you?"

"Three here," I said. "More around."

"More around," he repeated, staring at the truck.

"How about you?" I said. "How many?"

"Oh, just the three of us," he said.

Another man came out of the store pushing a cart full of stuff. He stopped when he saw me.

The man in the Carhartt coat turned to see him then laughed.

"Looks like you caught me," he said. "Sorry. I didn't think it would be smart to tell you about everything."

"Yeah," I said. "I understand that."

I noticed the man by the Porsche begin to slowly move off to my left.

"You lucked out," Carhartt man said, laughter in his voice. "You got you a truckload of
 
pretty girls."

"What's your name?" I said, feeling uncomfortable and trying to change the subject.

"You
 
can call me Hank."

The man continued to move around to my left in a wide circle.

"Where's he going, Hank?" I said.

Hank looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, he's just walkin' around," he said, casually.

"He's making me nervous," I said.

Hank turned and motioned for the man to stop. He obeyed.

"We probably shouldn't stand around here very long,"
 
Hank said, pointing toward the road. Infected people were approaching.

"Where are y'all stayin'?" Hank asked.

"I don't
 
want to tell
 
you that right now," I said. "You understand."

"Yeah," he said. "Y'all have plenty of guns? It's real dangerous out."

My gut was churning.
 
My bad feeling was getting worse.

"That's a nice car you got there," I said, nodding at the Porsche.
 
"Where'd you find that?"

"Around," he said. "If you like it, I'd be willin' to trade it."

"I don't have anything for trade," I said.

"Oh, I think you do," he said. "You
 
got all kinds of good stuff over there."

"No," I said, backing up. "Not interested."

"You don't need two of them," he said. "Tell you what, let's go
 
ask them what they'd like to do."

"No," I said. "We're leaving now."

He
 
opened his coat. I didn't know if he was going for his gun,
 
and I didn't want to
 
wait and see, I turned and ran back toward the truck, pulling my mask down.