The King of Clayfield - 01 (45 page)

She didn't say anything right then, but I could tell she was getting a big kick out of it. I led the way to Founder's then got out so I could direct her as she backed in. She
 
brought the truck up close to a tank and got out.

"How do we get it in the truck?" she said.

"We can lift up one side, then back the truck under it, and then slide it the rest of the way."

"How do we lift the side?"

"We'll use those fence posts as levers."

"Okay," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"Archimedes said he could move the whole world with a lever," I said.

"Awesome. You should go on Jeopardy."

"Just get a damn post."

We wedged some of the smaller metal posts under the tank. We each lifted on one and put a block under them so the tank was angled up off the ground. Then we got some of the longer, thicker posts and put them under the tank and lifted them up high enough to prop them on the back of the truck, forming a ramp.

Next I went back in the store and got a big spool of rope. I tied the end of the rope to the tank, and then I ran the rope over the truck, around a light pole,
 
then back
 
to the truck. I tied
 
it to the front bumper.

"Okay," I said. "Now all you've got to do is back up. The truck should pull it up."

"You're way smarter than Archimedes," she said. "And he probably couldn't
 
drive a stick either."

I grinned, "Shut up."

She backed
 
the truck
 
slowly, and the big tank slid right up onto the bed.
 
We
 
used the rope to secure it. Then we got the rest of the stuff loaded onto both trucks, including some attachments for the tank, some hose, and a couple of plastic barrels to use as rain barrels.

It was around
 
1 p.m. by this time.

"I think we can head back to the stables now," I said. "We're going to have a lot of work to do over the next few days getting set up, but it'll be worth it."

"How will we fill the tank?" she said.

"We have access to a generator," I said. "It should still be over by the museum. I have instructions on how to hardwire it into a well. We can pump out enough water to fill it, and then shut it down."

"We'll have to come back
 
for the generator
 
then."

"Yeah," I said. "One more trip, but we can wait a few days. We should stop by Charlie's on the way back and get his kerosene. We also need to get the chickens from Blaine's house. You go ahead and go out to the stables, and I'll go to Charlie's and Blaine's."

"You sure? I don't like the idea of being alone."

"You'll be okay. Just don't stop for anybody and don't lead anybody back to us."

I followed Sara as far as Charlie's house, and then she proceeded to the stables. Charlie had not returned, and I suspected that he never would. I took the fuel, food, and toilet paper he'd left behind, then headed over to Blaine's place.

I noticed the smoke before I got there, but it didn't sink in right away what I was seeing. There was smoke coming out of the chimney of the workshop behind the house. There was a beat-up little hatchback parked in the driveway. I would have rather seen ten infected people standing in the yard than to see what I saw. At least with them, I'd know what I was up against.

I parked the pickup and got out, my hand on the butt of the .45. I expected someone to come out to greet me...or shoot at me...but no one did. I knocked, but no one answered, so I went in.

Brian Davies was lying on one of the mattresses in the floor. When I opened the door he lifted the shotgun Jen and I had left with him.
 
He looked like hell--a far cry from the well-groomed, nicely dressed man I'd seen
 
several
 
days
 
before.

Next to the wood stove was a pile of sticks and broken pieces of Blaine's dining room furniture.

"Brian?" I said.

"Thank God it's you."

"Are you okay? We saw your car and--"

"No, I'm not okay," he said. "Where the hell have you been? I've been here since yesterday. I thought you two were dead. Where's Jen?"

"Jen is....Jen is fine. She's at the other place."

"You didn't tell me there was another place."

"Jen said she left you a note,"
 
I said.

"I didn't see a note," he said.

"What happened?"

"I never did hear from Henry," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but what happened to
you
?"

"A couple of days after you left these two men
 
came to
 
my house. They seemed friendly at first and
 
asked if I could spare some drinking water.
 
I gave them some. They asked me about the turbine, and we talked about that for a while.

"The next day, they came back.
 
They brought
 
others.
 
There
 
were nine of them in all. There were six men, two women, and a little boy. They
 
said they were moving
 
in since I had electricity. They said they were doing it whether I liked it or not.
 
I
 
didn't like how they were acting about it, but like I told you and Jen, I was glad to see others, and I welcomed them.

"They weren't too happy about the basement, and they started talking about what they were going to do about it and the changes they were going to make. I didn't like that either. It was my house, after all, and I should be the king of that castle. We were butting heads by the end of the day."

"We went to check on you this morning," I said, "but we could see there were a lot of vehicles there."

"Really? How did it look?"

"The house had been burned," I said.

He shook his head.

"I
 
knew they would do that. They kept saying they
 
needed to do that.
 
God....my library, my bonsai trees,
 
the paintings....I hope they at least saved some things.
 
Some of those trees were
 
several decades old. It would be a shame for them to have been destroyed like that."

"Where did they plan to live?"

"They were talking about building a tall fence and building several new houses--like a compound. Sounded like a lot of trouble
 
to me just to have electricity. But they were morons,
 
so whatcha gonna do?

"One of the women had a big problem with me personally. She told me the whole reason the plague came was to purge away people like me.

"They put me out of my own house. They gave me a plastic Wal-Mart sack.
 
It had
 
a bottle of water, a peanut butter sandwich, a few matches, and a single shotgun shell. They let me take my shotgun, but wouldn't let me load
 
it until I was away from the house. They gave me a piece-of-shit car to drive. I couldn't keep it running; it kept sputtering.

"I wound up spending the night in the car
 
and using my only shotgun shell to keep from being zombie food. Anyway, I'm here now."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm hungry. All I've had to eat since I got here were two eggs I found in the chicken coop. I didn't have anything to cook them in so I just cooked them directly on the stove, and then scraped them off. It smelled really bad in here for a while. I would have had a chicken, but I couldn't bring myself to kill one."

"I have food in the truck. Do you want to eat now or go over to the other place?"

"Eat."

I went out to look for some things that didn't require cooking. I brought him back some Vienna Sausages, a sleeve of saltines, and a juice box. He didn't complain.

While he was eating, I took the large plastic dog carrier Sara and I had gotten from Founder's Farm and Hardware and
 
went out to catch the chickens. It wasn't that easy. I finally got them herded into the coop. Then I got in with them and shut the door. It was easier to corner them that way but also more difficult to dodge them when they decided to try to escape by "flying." They made a big fuss over it, but I finally got all of them in the carrier.

When I came back in the shop, Brian was finished with his meal.

"Did you kill a chicken or something?"

"No," I said. "I'm moving them to the other place."

"I take it the other place is better than this?"

"Much better," I said. "It's not as nice as your place."

"Does the offer still stand for me to live with you and Jen?"

"Yeah," I said. "Jen will be thrilled. We have a young woman named Sara living with us, too. She was supposed to move out today, but that didn't work out."

"I had decided to leave today," he said. "The only reason I stayed was because I hoped you would be back. I figured since the chickens were still alive, then someone must have been feeding them,
 
but when you didn't come...."

"We've been busy," I said. "Jen was shot in the leg."

"What?"

"Yeah," I said, "She can tell you all about it later.
 
But I'm curious about that bite you got on your
 
ankle. How is it healing up?"

"It's not," he said. "I'm having a hard time getting around."

His leg looked bad. It was swollen,
 
red, and where the teeth had gotten through, it was oozing puss.

"I know where there is a doctor," I said, "but they probably
 
won't let me in to see him; you'd have to go there alone."

"I think it'll get better, I just have to get some rest."

"Jen got bit, too, and the doctor had to put her on antibiotics."

"Where is this doctor?”

"He's out at the Grace County High School with some others."

"Are there a lot of others?" he said.

"Some," I said, "but they tried to kidnap Jen,
 
so I--"

"Well forget that shit," he said. "You'll just have to go out and find me some antibiotics."

"I have some amoxicillin, but I don't know if that is the right kind, and I don't know the dosage."

"What kind is Jen using?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Help me up," he said. "I can't walk very well."

The infected were very active that day. I attributed it to the weather. It had warmed up some outside that day and the sun was shining. It was breezy, but it must have been in the upper 50s to lower 60s--one of those late February heat waves.

We passed several individuals on our way out to the Lassiter house. Some were in the road, but most were in the fields. They were all headed in the same direction that we were headed, and I presumed there must
 
have been a
 
noise drawing them.

When I came in with Brian, Sara was sitting in the living room, but Jen wasn't there.

"She's in the bathroom," she said.

She looked at Brian.

"This is Brian Davies," I said. "We drove out to
 
his house this morning. You know--the
 
Porsche.

"I know you," she said. "You're that Michael Jackson guy."

"See," Brian said to me, "I'm famous."

"My church helped with that benefit you did last year. My name is Sara."

"Very nice to meet you again," Brian said. "If you will excuse me, I need to sit. My ankle is in bad shape."

"They keep talking about you, but I never realized you were the same person," Sara said.

Jen hobbled in, and her face lit up.

"Holy shit!" she said. "We thought something bad happened to you!"

Brian smiled, "I happened to something bad."

"Okay," I said. "You two cripples catch up. Sara and I are going to unload the truck. Jen, show Brian your antibiotics. His ankle isn't healing, and I might need to get some more."

"Let me see it," Jen said.

He pulled up his pant leg and peeled away the bandage.