Enduring Armageddon (30 page)

“Hey, Chuck,” she called out when she got within fifty feet of me. We’d developed that little routine to avoid startling people and ending up with someone getting stabbed or shot. “Got some soup here to help you warm up.”

“Thanks, babe,” I replied and waved her over. I chuckled to myself as I watched her take exaggerated steps over the newly-planted rows of vegetables.

“How’s Jesse doing?” I asked. We’d chosen to name our baby boy after our deceased friend since without his help we probably would have died in Illinois and many other locations along the way.

“He’s sleeping. Jordyn is watching him while I came out here to bring you guys some soup.”

I looked around and muttered, “Son of a bitch. I didn’t even realize that she went inside.” I couldn’t afford to slip up. Vigilance, and a healthy dose of luck, had helped keep us alive so far. Jackson was still hoeing away over at the potato section of the field, but somehow I’d missed Jordyn leaving.

“It’s alright, Chuck. The town has a solid fence in place now. Besides, we haven’t seen any of the zombies in a couple of months,” she replied with her hands on her hips. It was true, once we decided to stay in Balmorhea, Alejandro and I helped the townspeople develop a solid layer of defense that included fences, shallow pits and tripwires that would signal the approach of anyone towards the town. We even had full-time guards sitting in elevated positions around the town’s perimeter and at the one gate.

I nodded my head and reached for the thermos of soup. She unscrewed the cup from the top and poured some of the broth into it. I sipped gratefully at the warm chicken stock and felt the warmth grow in my stomach. “Thank you,” I said to Rebecca. “I really needed that. It’s a lot warmer than it used to be, but the wind coming off those mountains is fierce.”

The town sat just to the north of the Davis Mountains, a small but significant range in the flat west Texas landscape. To make matters worse, when the wind wasn’t blowing off the mountains, it was coming from the plains and smashing against them. The locals said that the mountains helped with the rainfall, but the key for the crops was irrigation from the lake.

“How do you think the crops are gonna do?” Rebecca asked as she surveyed the field around her.

“Well, we’re planting vegetables that are supposed to be able to survive cooler weather, so I hope they’ll do alright. But if the weather stays cold like this, they probably won’t produce anything except small, stunted fruit. Jose Serrano says that the weather is about consistent for this time of year, so we’re all optimistic that the winter is over.”

“Oh, it will be wonderful to have fresh veggies,” she said with a smile. We’d finally decided to ditch the constant gas mask usage a few weeks ago when it had become apparent that the sky wasn’t so full of shit anymore. “Lord knows little Jesse is sucking my tits dry and the multivitamins just aren’t cutting it.”

“I like your tits, babe,” I said as I grinned and pulled her to me in an embrace.

“You like any tits, even the ones on a zombie,” she replied playfully with a quick kiss.

“Yeah, those are nice and firm,” I teased back.

“Rigor mortis is a hell of a thing.”

“That only affects muscles, these things are nothing but fatty tissue,” I remarked as I cupped her breasts through her light jacket.

She kissed me again and pulled away. “Save that energy for the bedroom buddy,” she giggled. She gestured to where Jackson stood gaping in our direction and said, “For now, I’m going to take Jackson some soup and help him pick his jaw up out of the dirt.”

“Thank you for the soup. It really helped warm me up,” I called after her retreating form while I stared at her ass. I shook my head and grinned to myself as I picked up the discarded hoe and got back to work.

* * *

The chilly spring gave way to a mild summer. The thermometers around town never increased above seventy degrees at any point, but it was warm enough that our crops didn’t fail and with a lot of hard work and judicious watering from the lake we had more than enough food for the two hundred and eighty-seven residents of Balmorhea.

We knew that the weather probably wouldn’t get very warm, so we’d purposefully planted crops that would do well in the cooler weather. We had an abundance of broccoli, peas, carrots and potatoes. We were even able to get some smaller yields from the few tomato plants that we tried to plant, but they were notoriously hard to keep alive. A few of the old-timers in the town were able to teach us how to preserve the vegetables that we couldn’t eat right away and the sense of impending doom that had plagued everyone for more than a year was lessened.

Over the course of the summer, we had a couple of would-be scavengers try to sneak into the fence, but nothing that our security wasn’t able to handle. While we waited for the crops to grow, we spent our time shoring up the perimeter fence. The town’s mayor even identified several vacant homes within the city for destruction and use as additional building material. Once those were used up, we started to cannibalize the cottages surrounding the lake.

The winter forced us inside again and Rebecca and I relished our time together with our growing baby boy. Maybe we enjoyed ourselves too much because she was pregnant again by the time the next spring rolled around and we were ready to begin planting again. Sam and Alejandro were expecting too and we were all curious what the baby would look like once it was born. Obviously, most of Alejandro’s disfigurement was from the raging fires after the bombs went off, but there must have been changes on the cellular level as well due to all the radiation that he’d been exposed to on his journeys. Even without the distractions of television, radio or any outside influences, it was an interesting time in our community.

Our second summer in Balmorhea passed without any sightings of a mutant. It was a strange, but welcome, change, especially since we were so close to El Paso, which had taken a direct hit almost two and a half years ago. In early October we were on a building material run out at the lake when the little world that we’d created for ourselves came crashing down towards the end of the day. Jackson was on the roof of a cottage loosening the clay shingles when he heard the clinking of metal against metal long before any of the older workers did. He gave us warning of the approaching noise and we scrambled inside the cottage for defense against whatever was approaching.

A few minutes went by and then a small caravan of horse-drawn wagons finally pulled into view from the east. There were six wagons and about twenty people who dismounted from them. They all carried rifles and were covered in the west Texas dirt and grime kicked up by the wheels of their carts. As I peered out of the corner of a window, I was reminded of a television western that I’d seen as a kid where the families traveled westward in covered wagons towards a new life.

They went about the business of setting up their camp like the old-time settlers would have done. They circled the wagons into a defensive formation with one side open to the lake. A few of the travelers led horses to the water to drink while others set about lighting the campgrounds’ barbecue grills. We’d noticed periodic use of the grills from time to time when we came up here, but didn’t know who’d been using them. Now we did.

It was an odd sight to see these strangers after so long with only the townsfolk for company. We watched them for about fifteen minutes until I finally decided that we had to do something. “Look, if we don’t go home soon, Pedro will send a group up here to see what happened to us. If these guys are friendly, an armed group coming from the town might make them turn hostile,” I reasoned.

“I don’t like it, Chuck,” Alejandro said. “I know you remember, but you need to remind yourself about Fort Worth. The last group of people we came upon who didn’t live in a town were a group of psychopaths. These guys could be just like them.”

“We can’t live our entire lives without contact from the outside world. It’s gonna happen sooner or later. We’re right off of I-10, anyone following the old interstate will be able to see our walls,” I replied. “Maybe things have settled down a little bit, or gotten worse, we won’t know until we start seeking some answers.”

“I think we’ve done pretty well for ourselves here,” he retorted.

“You’re right, buddy, but it’s been two years and we don’t know what’s out there anymore. Like, why haven’t we seen any of the zombies in such a long time?” I asked as I held up fingers to count off the points. “Are there communities close by that we could possibly trade with? Is there any type of government that’s stood up since we came out here? What—”

He cut me off with a raised hand and said, “Okay, you’re right. You usually are. Let’s go talk to them.”

I shook my head. “No way, man,” I said. “We don’t know how these guys will react to you and Balmorhea can’t afford to lose you if they get trigger happy. I’ll go out there and talk to them.”

Alejandro started to object but Jackson cut in and said, “I’m going with you. You need someone to watch your back.”

I started to say something about his age, but I realized that he’d grown into a strong young man over the course of the two years I’d known him. He was almost sixteen now and Rebecca and I loved him as dearly as if he were our own child. He was an intelligent, handsome boy who’d been invaluable to the town and he never backed down from a task that needed to be done. Even more importantly, he’d killed men in combat beside me when we attacked the cannibals’ camp and I knew that I could depend on him.

“Alright, Jackson, you can come with me,” I said as I stuck out my hand and shook his, man to man. “You’re right. I need the best of the bunch to watch my back. Alejandro and the others can keep the travelers in their rifle’s crosshairs.”

Alejandro looked back and forth between the two of us and reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay, brother,” he sighed. “Be careful, we’ll keep you covered. If anything seems out of place, get down and we’ll start shooting. Then you get your asses back here to this cottage.”

I grasped my friend’s hand and pulled him into a slight hug. “We’ll be safe. I wouldn’t go out there if I thought this was going to turn ugly,” I said. Was this the way the world would be from now on? Were we going to be so distrustful of others that we wouldn’t hesitate to kill them based on the chance that they may have nefarious deeds in mind? I hoped not.

I pulled Jesse’s cannon from the holster on my belt and checked to make sure that it was loaded and then put it back. Even though we’d been relatively safe in Balmorhea, I’d never taken the giant pistol off my hip since the day I pulled it from Trisha’s hand in the cannibal’s camp. The nickel plating was a little more scratched than when Jesse had owned the weapon, but it was still as deadly as the last time it had taken a life so long ago.

“Alright, let’s go talk to these guys,” I said as I put a reassuring hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “They might be jumpy, so don’t make any sudden movements.”

“Sure thing,” he said as he adjusted the strap of the rifle on his shoulder so that the weapon hung parallel to the ground across his body for quicker action. I nodded to myself.
He’s ready
, I thought. I glanced at the small group of men that I’d learned to call my friends over the last couple of years and silently prayed that they had my back if things got bad.

Jackson and I walked ten feet from the cabin before I called out as loud as I could. “Ho there!”

We could see the men scramble for weapons through the gaps in the wagons. In mere seconds there were rifle barrels jutting from every space in the circle. “Who goes there?” someone yelled in a gruff voice that had seen too much time on the plains.

“Chuck Broussard and Jackson Cooper,” I replied with my hands held over my head. “We’re up here at the lake gathering supplies for our community.”

“You talkin’ ‘bout that raggedy little town near the highway?” a female voice asked.

“Yeah. That’s Balmorhea where we live.”

The rifles pulled back and a man stepped through the gap. He advanced towards us and stopped about ten feet away. His eyes darted over us quickly and then he did a slight bow. “My name is Jason and this is my caravan,” he said as he gestured towards the circle of wagons. “We travel the wasteland gathering supplies for trade with the bigger cities.”

“What?” I asked. I was shocked. What cities were left?

“What cities?” Jackson asked beside me. Thank goodness he retained enough composure to ask the question.

“Well, young man, we do a circuit between New El Paso—that’s where we’re headed now—Amarillo, Lubbock and Albuquerque. All of them need more supplies than they can produce for themselves, especially food.”

I recovered from my temporary stupor and asked, “So, El Paso survived the war?”

“No Mr.—what was your name again?”

“Chuck,” I said sticking out my hand. I knew better than to walk towards him without being invited and I could still feel the rifles pointed at me, even if I couldn’t see them.

Jason closed the gap quickly and grasped my hand and then Jackson’s. “It’s nice to meet you both,” he said. His eyes darted up towards the cabin. “You can tell your friend in the cabin to come out. Everyone is welcome around our campfire. We’re always looking for new trading partners.”

I glanced back at the cabin and saw the silhouette of a man in the window and cursed silently. “Jason, we have a very unique man in our group. He was disfigured in the fires and looks like one of the zombies, but he’s not. He’s just a normal man with horrible scars.”

“And you’re worried that we’ll shoot him, right?” Jason asked as I nodded my head. “Don’t worry, Chuck, he may be unique to your community, but men like him are a dime a dozen elsewhere.”

I was floored for the second time in less than two minutes by a casual comment from Jason. “What do you mean?” I asked.

Jason waved back to his group and people returned to their work inside the circle. He turned back to me and answered, “How long have you been locked behind those little walls of yours?”

I thought for a moment and said, “The town has been sealed up almost from the beginning. They fought off a huge wave of zombies early on, but then shored up their defenses and have had very little contact with the outside world since then. My group got there about a year and a half ago.”