Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 1): Nicole's Odyssey (24 page)

Nicole slammed home another magazine and stepped up to Paul.  She put her ear to the wind, but the only sound was the morning breeze wafting through the grass by the side of the road. 

“We’re all clear!” she called.  Paul dropped his rifle and turned.  “Jordan!” he cried, running back to the camp. 

Seeing his daughter, he threw his arms around her.  Billy lay face down in the dirt, unmoving.  Jordan sat next to him, slowly rubbing his back while her father wept.

Thirty-Five

The day moved into late morning.  Billy slept, while by his side, Jordan kept her vigil. 

After being relieved by Walt, Sam climbed down off the bus.  He went over to the small fire where Paul was cooking up some canned hash from the provisions they had retrieved from the All-Mart.  As Sam sat down, Paul handed him a plate.  Paul fixed up three more plates, then stood and walked over to Jordan. 

The aroma of the sizzling hash awakened Billy and he sat up.  He smiled at Jordan, but the smile faded quickly as Paul approached.  Paul stood looking at Jordan.  Billy looked away. 

“Hey, Jordan honey.  Breakfast is ready.  Go on over and get some, okay?  I’d like to have a word with Billy, here,” Paul said.

Jordan looked like she didn’t want to leave Billy’s side, but Paul urged her with his eyes and she relented.  Billy sat up and drew his legs to his chest and hugged them, not looking at Paul. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baxter.  I’m sorry I almost got Jordan hurt.  I…” Billy’s words trailed off. 

Paul looked around then took a seat on the ground next to Billy. 

“I saw you leave last night.  Lord knows I wasn’t getting any sleep.  When you left, I was glad.  I tried not to wish that something bad…” 

Paul picked up some pebbles from the ground and rolled them around in his hand before chucking them away. 

“The thing is, Billy.  I like things to run smooth, ya know?  It’s the reason I wanted those zombies all lined up and moving in one direction.  I knew where they were and when I could move.  I’m learning that there are just some things I can’t control, like who my daughter likes and what she’s gonna do when I’m not around,” Paul said. 

Billy looked up at him.  “I promise, Mr. Baxter.  I didn’t hurt her.  We only just kissed a little.  We weren’t that good at it even.  Mostly we just held hands and looked at the stars awhile,” Billy said. 

“It’s alright, Billy.  I guess what I’m saying is, just as there are things I can’t control, there are things you can’t control either… things like Mullney.  It’s not your fault he did what he did,” Paul said. 

Billy looked away. 

“Jordan told me why you snuck away last night, told me what you did, how you were gonna trade yourself for her.  Billy, I want to tell you I’m sorry.  Sorry for thinking… for misjudging you.  I love Jordan very much and would do anything to protect her.  Now I know you would too, and that’s all a father can ask of any man who takes an interest in his daughter,” Paul said. 

He stood and looked down at Billy.  Billy stared up at Paul. 

“Me and Jordan are gonna have some breakfast.  I’d like for you to join us,” he said.  Paul smiled then turned away. 

Billy watched him go and take a seat next to Jordan, his back to him.  Jordan looked sullenly into her plate.  Billy crawled out of the sleeping bag and went over and sat down on the other side of Jordan.  Paul handed Billy his plate, and smiled at him and his daughter.  Jordan looked at her father, who nodded at her.  A big smile broke out on her face and she hugged her father.  Paul hugged her back and tried to choke back his emotion.  Jordan pulled away and turned to her plate.  Paul, Jordan, and Billy sat together, exchanging stolen glances and beaming smiles as they ate their breakfast.

Thirty-Six

Rubetta Pryde was eighty years old, but she had never been in the habit of letting that be a reason to slow down.  Lately though, she had been feeling like her resolve was weakening along with her body.  As the morning slipped into day, she stood looking out her window at forty acres of farmland.  It was land that her and her husband had worked for all of the sixty years they had been married. 

Orland Pryde had died the previous year and Rubetta was glad he did.  She was not glad he died because of lack of love, for she loved him more than her own life, but for what that death had spared him. 

Rubetta frowned and gave a huff at what she saw out her window, what she was glad her loving man never had to witness.  Without a doubt, Rubetta harbored no resentment for Orland passing, and leaving her to deal with the way the world turned out.  Orland was never a man to turn from his responsibilities, and he was faithful to them till the day he died.  He knew his Rubetta to be cut from the same cloth and he had loved her for it.  Could he see her now, he would have wished her God’s blessing, and a true aim, and been confident she had both.  Rubetta had them in spades, and those skills had served her well over the last several months.  She gave a final frown at the thirty Dead traipsing through her field, then turned away.

With her cane in one hand and her shotgun in the other, Rubetta made her way slowly to her screen door.  She raised the old double barrel and pushed it open.  Rubetta eased herself down the three steps of her front porch to an old wooden wheel chair.  Her doctor had sent a letter to the insurance company and they had approved the purchase of a fully equipped motorized wheelchair, one with directional control that could be used with two fingers.  Rubetta Pryde told the doctor she would have no part of it.  It was bad enough she had to use a wheelchair at all, she had told him,  but the day she couldn’t move under the strength of her own arms was the day she wouldn’t move at all.  The good doctor had been wise enough to know that was the end of the discussion.

 Resting the shotgun in her lap, Rubetta wheeled herself over the packed dry ground to her barn.  As she got closer, a Shuffler came around the corner, but it didn’t scare Rubetta.  It just made her mad. 

“Be gone from here, ya interloper!” she screamed, before blasting the top of its head off with the ancient double barrel. 

The blast sent her rolling back.  As the shuffler dropped, Rubetta reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a fresh shell.  She jammed it in, snapping the shotgun closed.  Placing the gun across her lap, she rolled into the barn. 

Rubetta parked the wheelchair by the door and grabbed a footstool.  Going over to the massive harvester, and with more than a few grunts, climbed up into the cabin.  Rubetta settled in, then buckled up.  When she was satisfied, she started the engine and drove out of the barn toward her fields. 

She engaged the massive blades on the front of the harvester and took aim at the first of the Walkers.  At the sound of the spinning blades, the Walker turned and hissed.  It was sucked into the harvester and disappeared in a slick mess.  Inside, Rubetta snickered. 

“Dang interlopers,” she muttered as she turned the wheel and headed for a group of three more. 

Inside the cabin, she barely felt a bump, as she sliced and diced the Dead to bits.  A gleeful cackle sprang from her lips as she made a meandering course across her field, chewing up the Dead foolish enough to trespass across her land. 

When the last one was dispatched, she turned the harvester back toward the barn and came to a stop.  She reached into the other pocket of her dress and retrieved a large flask.  Unscrewing the top, she took a pull of bourbon.  A smile crossed her face as  she felt the burn.  Rubetta screwed the top back on and replaced the flask. 

“I love ya, Jesus and so I thank you for it,” she said as she drove the harvester back to the barn. 

Once parked, she shut it down and eased herself out.  Rubetta hobbled over to a garden hose coiled on a roller and unwound a length. 

She put an arthritic hand on the knob.  Her strength was gone, and she couldn’t get the wheel to turn.  Rubetta sighed as she stared at the hose in her hand. 

“You’ll have to wait for a cleanin’ today, I’m afraid,” she said looking over at her harvester. 

The blades dripped gore onto the ground.  Rubetta went over and thought about cranking the handle on the hose reel, but just felt too tired.  She leaned on her cane and stared out across her land. 

“What’s to become of our land when I come to meet ya, Orland?” she asked. 

She dropped the hose and flopped back into her wheelchair.  Rubetta pushed herself across the yard to her house, hauled herself up the steps,  and went back inside.

The smell of the Dead was still on the wind, as Rubetta shuffled into her kitchen.

Thirty-Seven

“I think we should look for someplace indoors to stop tonight.  Last night was a reminder that the Dead are wandering,” Nicole said. 

Sam nodded.  “I’ll tell Walt,” he said, picking up the walkie. 

“Tell him I’m gonna look for something off the road, and out of the way, too,” she said. 

Sam relayed the message. 

“
Sounds good to me, man
,” Walt responded.

Rubetta pushed opened the front door with her cane and trundled out onto the porch.  She set a fresh pitcher of powdered milk next to a heaping plate of brownies before plopping down in her rocker. 

On the table next to the brownies was a .38 police special.  She reached over and grabbed it, the pistol in her hand resting in her lap.  Rubetta looked out across her land and rocked herself gently.  A cool breeze wafted across the porch and spread the delicious smell of the brownies. 

How much longer can I go on like this
, she thought to herself.  She had always been a canner, so she had managed to not go too hungry.  The farm never had cattle, but it had chickens.  Most of those had become supper over the past several months.  There were a few lucky ones around who could still scurry away faster than she could chase them.  It was just as well, she thought.  She made good use of the eggs.  Rubetta had never been a quitter, and this is what she told herself, but it was getting harder to be convinced.  She didn’t fool herself either, though.  The Dead that wandered across her land from time to time were monsters indeed, but even with the change, she had recognized some of them as former neighbors and friends.  She knew there might be a day when she didn’t get to the harvester in time, or there would be one more of them than she had shells.  She looked down at the gun in her lap and picked it up.  What about when she couldn’t pull the trigger, she asked herself.  In the barn she wasn’t able to turn the knob.  Rubetta gripped the pistol with both hands, and with her two thumbs pulled the hammer back.  It locked into position with a satisfying click. 

As she stared at the gun, a noise sounded across her property.  It came from down by the road, out towards the highway. 

Nicole saw a dirt road leading into a stand of trees just off the access road.  She turned on her signal and stuck her hand out the window, waving at Walt.  Walt flashed his lights in acknowledgment and the two vehicles took the exit and headed for the dirt road.  She picked up the radio. 

“Stay alert, guys.  Chances are, we find an abandoned farmhouse, but it may not be as abandoned as we like,” she said. 

“
Roger that, Man
,” Walt called back. 

Turning in, they bounced down the dirt road. The trees opened up to a view of farmland.  Set in the middle was a ranch house with a wraparound porch and open door barn.  In the barn sat a harvester.  Nicole peered at the harvester and picked up the radio. 

“I don’t see any trouble yet, but that harvester has been doing more than cutting crops,” Nicole said. 

Sam sat upright and sniffed the air.  “I think I smell brownies,” he said. 

Nicole was about to berate Sam for his olfactoral delusions when she was interrupted by the blaring from Walt’s horn.  Nicole stopped the car and looked behind her at Walt.  She could see him behind the wheel, jumping up and down and pointing at something ahead.  She grabbed her radio and turned to look out across the fields but saw nothing. 

“I don’t see anything, Walt.  What do you see?!” she screamed into the radio. 

“
On the porch, man!
” Walt called back. 

Nicole turned to look at the house and her mouth fell open.  Leaning on her cane was an old woman frantically waving her arms.  Nicole leaned her head out the window. 

“Hello there!  You’re just in time, I made brownies!” Rubetta cried. 

Nicole slumped back in her seat, her mouth agape.  Beside her, Sam looked at her smugly. 

“Told you I smelled ‘em,” he said.

Nicole eased the car up and parked in front of the house.  Walt brought the bus up and parked closer to the barn.  Everyone got out, and with shocked and bewildered faces approached the porch and Rubetta Pryde.  They formed a line in the yard as Rubetta beamed at them. 

“Welcome! My name’s Rubetta Pryde.  Welcome to my farm!  Are ya hungry?” she asked. 

Walt beamed at her.  “Hey momma!  My name’s Walt, Those brownies sure smell good!” he said. 

“Momma, huh?  Well, child, the good Lord never saw fit to bless me with that title, but it sounds good when you say it, so alright.  Yes, yes, come get some brownies,” Rubetta said.