Fountain of the Dead (7 page)

“Not fair.” He scribbled on is white board. He wiped at the words with his fingertips.

“Your time will come, Micah, you’re too young for a trip like this.”

“I need to keep track of history.” He wrote next and took the journals from his bag and started flipping through the pages, showing Catherine; practically shaking the books at her.

“I know you feel you must chronicle the trip, leave that to me. I promise every detail will be recorded.” Micah scratched his shoulder after putting the journals away trying to think. He nodded in approval and gave Catherine a quick hug. Sharon came over and stood next to Micah; he bent down and rested his head on her shoulder for a moment. She wiped her hands on her shirt.

“Catherine, we’re low on meat, the freezers are almost empty. We need to schedule a run to the city or a hunting party.” Sharon wrung her hands on her shirt tails ashamed of having brought that news. She was a hair shorter than Micah at fifteen and a bit chubby in the face. Running a canteen truck for several years never helped her weight.

“We’re also almost out of gas,” Frank added. “We need fuel for the generators to keep the freezers going. Then we need to fuel the vehicles for this trip of yours. Maybe see a few deer on the road and you know.”

Catherine brushed a lock of grey hair caught in the breeze from her eyes. She turned away to look at the colored foliage clinging to branches. The mood was broken by a gunshot and body falling to the ground.

The lack of cooking smells and the lottery brought out everyone from their homes. Catherine sat and Micah handed her an empty journal and several pencils. She smiled and put them under her chair.

“People, I’m going to draw the names now. After that, you’ll need to eat from your own supplies. Tomorrow we will plan the trip and the rest of you will need to go shopping. Find a spot on the road we can cut down some trees, or a yard loaded with cord wood.” Catherine looked around at the array of faces, apprehensive, scared, and excited. She reached into the pot and drew out the first ballot. She unfolded it, holding her breath. She sighed and showed the first piece; it was blank. Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd. She crumpled the blank tag and tossed it into the fire pit.

The next four ballots brought four names, then three blanks and the next round all names. When Catherine calculated the names in her head, she emptied the rest of the papers into the fire pit. “We have our party.” She called them out one by one; those called stepped to the side and then gathered near Catherine. Micah’s face paled when he saw Sharon among the party. She looked away and then turned back and tried to smile for him. He rubbed his eyes and plodded off, with Meredith on his heels.

“Right then,” Pierce said. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow or the day after. Mr. Pierce, we need to get a hunting party formed, send people out for supplies,” Catherine said.

“What do you mean?”

“What it means, fuck-stick, is we need to ready our village for this run,” Frank said.

“Everyone with a vehicle with gas will go, get fuel and forage,” Catherine said.

“It’s ludicrous to wait. We need to leave now,” Pierce demanded. Catherine turned to Pierce, hand raised and caught herself. Pierce flinched and backed down.

“I will not risk a journey of this magnitude on a fatigued and hungry crew. We would be dead before the state line and I will not subject myself or any of my friends to that. You’re welcome to leave now Mr. Pierce if you want. We were safe and happy before you showed up and we’ll be safe and happy after you’re gone.” Pierce looked around at the crowd. For the first time, Frank didn’t have his hands on his guns; he looked amused at the fear in Pierce’s eyes. He smiled and waved. Pierce skulked off to the medical shed and closed himself in. Frank sauntered over to Catherine and kissed her on the cheek.

“There are days, like today, I have no doubt why we follow you.”

“Days like today I doubt it enough for everyone.”

“It’s nice you got Pierce trained like a dog. He skulked off to a dark place to hide. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll lock him in for the night.” Frank whistled a tune and headed for the shed to keep the crazy locked away from the night. There’d be enough for that in the next few weeks for everyone.

* * * * *

The vehicles tore out of the gates under a cover of gunfire. Frank’s Jeep, one truck with a trailer hitched to it, and the SUV. Catherine watched through pensive eyes as the tail-lights disappeared from sight. She nodded to the towers and the gates were closed up again. Pierce walked up to her shining an apple against his chest.

“Where did you get that?”

“The doctor lady’s daughter felt sorry for me and gave it to me.” Pierce took a big bite, practically biting it in half. Catherine slapped him hard across the face; thought about doing it again. She held her hand to her chest rubbing it. The pain was worth it. Chunks of apple and spittle flew from his mouth. He looked shocked at her and dropped the remains of the apple on the cracked pavement.

“You’ve disrupted our lives, maybe brought in some excitement and hope for this cure. Beverly has done what she can with the water you gave her, which was nothing.” She looked at him knowingly and rubbed her arm.

“What’d she find out?” Pierce asked rubbing his cheek.

“It’s water. No special properties. Do we look like we have a test lab here?” Pierce shrugged and looked at the apple at his feet and then stepped on it.

“But we know better don’t we, Catherine?”

“Did someone say something to you?” Pierce locked his lips and tossed away the imaginary key. “If any of my people get hurt on this trip--”

“You told me, you’d take me out yourself.” Pierce said bored.

“Don’t mock me, Pierce. You think you found a patsy for your little trip. I’ve dealt with far worse than you. We’re doing this so maybe this shithole existence can end.”

“Please. Do you think I’m threatened? Or threatening? I’m trying to help,” Pierce said. Catherine looked Pierce in the eyes and scowled.

“Have no doubt that I can and will cut you from crotch to throat and leave you behind as zombie chum if I have to.” Catherine stepped back catching herself. “And if I don’t have the strength in my arms to do it, I know 30 or so volunteers that will step up.”

“You really don’t frighten me,” Pierce said. “You forget what I’ve seen in the swamps.”

“Part of me just wants to choke the life out of you right now,” Catherine said as Frank sauntered over, scratching his chest with the barrel of his pistol.

“There a problem here?” Frank asked.

Pierce shook his head and wandered off. Frank looked down at the apple. “Perfectly good waste of food. Are you sure about this trip, Catherine?”

“Why aren’t you out hunting, Frank?” Catherine asked.

“Someone has to watch you riff-raff.”

“You’re still fiddling with the Monte aren’t you? I want you to keep an eye on him, on Pierce.”

“I’ll give you both eyes.” Catherine smiled a little. “I don’t know what it is about that guy, Catherine, but every time I see him I want to put a bullet between his eyes.”

“I’m starting to feel that way. And yes, maybe, the trip is a good idea. At the very least we’ll get an idea of what’s left out there. We’ve been holed up here for so many years now. We could have another village like ours close by that we can trade and share with. Get away from the city.”

“There’s enough here for defense if none of us make it back. Their ammo is going to be really low, but if they’re casual with their killing they should last. I just don’t want to take too much away with us.” Frank tucked his gun under his belt. “We need to find a gun store. I knew of a couple up in Maine, but I’m sure they’ve been ripped apart by now.”

“What makes you think you’re going, Frank?”

“You’re not getting out of this place without me watching out for you. I’d still be out there on the road trapped in my crappy mail jeep if it wasn’t for you.” Catherine smiled, patted his shoulder and walked off towards her house.

* * * * *

Frank let the line of cars behind him pass before he pulled out for the next mailbox. The flashers were going. People should know what to expect from a mail truck. The seat next to him was piled with plastic trays. Frank reached across for a handful of letters and pulled out on to the road. There was a cloud of dust behind the vehicle. He pulled to the next mailbox, looked at the house number and the address on the envelopes and stuffed the proper ones into the mailbox.

“Rinse, repeat, rinse repeat.” He muttered. It was going to be a scorcher of a summer day. There was some benefit not to have the walking route today, no layers of sunscreen or being chased by dogs or carrying bottles of water. He didn’t like covering this route and even though there were small fans, they didn’t do shit to cut the heat. And the steering wheel on the ‘wrong’ side of vehicle added to the irritation.

He’d spent the early morning hand sorting mail too big for the machines or that showed up late. And now he was delivering it. The dash of the van was decorated with photos. Even though it was a temporary thing, Frank wanted the pictures. They were on the visor, on the dash and some taped to the side of the door, taped on before he left and removed before he stepped out back at the post office. The photos were of his ex-wife, his children, and pets.

He turned off the street into the parking lot of a convenience store. He let the truck idle while the fan did nothing. He sorted the mail in his hands and set it back in the tray for the next batch of houses. Frank ran into the store for some bottles of water and gum. He had to stop himself from getting a six pack of beer for the ride home. One of the many reasons his wife had taken off.

The side street was intersected by a two lane state highway. To the east it led to major highways and west it trundled on to the next city. Frank got back in the truck and pulled out on the state highway, each side dotted with houses. He stuffed the first mailbox. The hydrant next to the house was gushing brown water. No one had said anything about flushing hydrants today. And there were no kids around playing in the spray.

Frank steered around the rising puddle on the side of the road. It looked like a rusty stream flowing down the to the sewer grates. “Rinse, repeat.” The mantra of the day. At least on the walking route he could listen to his MP3 player or a book on CD. He stuffed the next mailboxes, a line of cars forming in back of him.

He tried waving them past, but whoever was right behind him seemed incapable of going around. Frank pulled off to the side, doing his best to avoid the muddy water churning around the metal grate. The truck shook. He looked in the mirrors, but there was no one near him. The truck shook again, like someone had picked it up and dropped it. Mail scattered and the trays slid, spilling more onto the floor.

“What the shit?” Frank reached for his phone and the front of the truck slid down into the street. Dark waters covered the hood. The engine sputtered and died. Frank tried restarting it, but it wouldn’t turn over. The vehicle slid forward and turned in the mud. The asphalt had a gaping hole in it, and Frank was stuck in its maw.

The truck was leaning towards the passenger’s side, sinking into the mud and water streaming in from the street. The viscous brown water was pooling on the floor. Frank grimaced at the ruined mail and clicked into survival mode. He got the seat belt off and tried the door. It was jammed from the outside. The wind shield cracked and spider-webbed. The brown water started to drizzle from the vents.

Frank elbowed the window until the pain was too much. He tried the engine again to power the windows. The engine wasn’t clicking. No contact, no sparks.

“Fuck!” Frank bellowed. He started pulling his pictures from where they were papered across the truck. “Think, or you’re going to drown in your fucking mail truck.” The truck shifted again, going at a sharper angle down, sinking into the enlarging crater. From beyond the crater he heard people shouting and screaming. “Window is on a crank, it’s not electric dipshit.” Frank cranked the window down, practically ripping it from the door and climbed out. The windshield exploded behind him, showering the insides with dime sized pieces of safety glass. He stood on the truck unbalanced and it continued to sink.

Someone grabbed his hand and helped him up.

“Thank you.” He gasped. Bending over, resting his hands on his knees fighting for air.

“Do you need anything?” Catherine asked.

* * * * *

Tony slowed to a stop a couple miles outside the village. His radio blared static and he turned down the volume so as not to attract any unwanted attention. He wiped dark windblown hair from his eyes. For the immediate time being, the road was clear.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam asked through the radio.

“Let’s go south. We’ve raped every strip mall to the north and past Boston and Providence,” Tony answered. He tapped his head with a long finger thinking where they hadn’t been. “And if we go through Boston we have to deal with the patrols.”

“You’re in the lead vehicle, it’s your call,” Sam said.

Tony checked the mirror and loosened his guns in the holsters for quick draw; two more men in the back seat took up the front line.