This Shattered Land - 02 (20 page)

“We
need to find a place to make camp.” I said, looking toward the western sky.

“I
know a place, let’s get the gear squared away first.” Gabe replied.

We
transferred everything from the wheelbarrow to the canoe. I didn’t even want to
think about how much effort it was going take to haul this stuff on the sections
of our return trip that required overland travel. At least we could use the
outboard motor to power us upstream once we got back to the Catawba River.

“Ok,
where to?” I asked as we put the last of the ammo in the boat.

“The
northwestern shore is probably our best bet. It’s on a steep hill, and there
are a bunch of abandoned lake houses up there that we can pick from.”

I
nodded by way of agreement. We pushed the boat back into the water and paddled
toward the other end of the lake. It took more effort to row than before, but
not enough to make things too terribly difficult. We reached the other side of
the lake just as the sun began to sink below the horizon. I took the time to
load up a couple of spare magazines for my new M-6, and then we tied the canoe
to an old fishing pier. I scanned the side of the steep incline that sloped up
the part of the western shore where we stood, and spotted a cottage near the
top that would provide a good view of the lake and the surrounding hills. Set
back into the hillside, it had wide sliding windows in the upper floor fronted
by a broad balcony. Unless my eyes deceived me, there was also a propane fueled
grill up there. I pointed it out to Gabe, and he agreed that it looked like a
good place to spend the night.

When
we reach the front door, Gabe took a little device with a pull-handle on it and
a narrow needle-like protrusion jutting out of the front. It was a lock-picking
device that was only available for use by law enforcement prior to the
Outbreak. It would open most any kind of common residential door lock or
deadbolt. It was highly illegal for civilians to own, so of course Gabe had two
of them. We had used it many times, and it had proven to be worth its weight in
gold. Well…maybe I should say that it was worth its weight in bullets, or
toilet paper. Gold isn’t worth much anymore.

Using
the pick, we quietly entered the house and locked the door behind us. Whoever
stayed there last had drawn the blinds over the windows making it nearly pitch
dark inside. After waiting a minute or two for our eyes to adjust to the gloom,
we proceeded further into the house. I took an old L-shaped Army issue
flashlight out of my pack with a red lens cover over the bulb. The red lens
keeps the light from traveling too far. A flashlight beam is like a beacon to
the undead.

Like
many of the houses that we came across in the high country, this one was neat
and orderly on the inside, but covered in a thick layer of dust. It was most
likely someone’s vacation home once upon a time and was unoccupied when the
Outbreak struck. We searched the kitchen for a light source, and Gabe found a
box of candles in a drawer beside the refrigerator. We drew our pistols and did
a quick sweep of the house. It looked like no one had been in there for a very
long time. We locked all of the windows and doors before heading upstairs to
rest for the night.

The
propane grill on the balcony was a little rusty, but still in good working
order, and had a half-full tank. I found a plastic container full of dried
pasta in the pantry and a can of cheap store-brand pasta sauce. A search around
the kitchen yielded a pasta cooker, a saucepan, and a few utensils. Cooking
outside would make too much noise, and might very well attract unwanted
attention, so we wheeled the grill inside and closed the drapes over the
balcony windows.

Gabe
set the table in the kitchen, and even managed to scare up a bottle of pinot
noir. We sat down to one of the best meals we had eaten in a long time. I
gorged as much pasta as I could stand, trying to load up on carbs for the trek
back home. The two glasses of wine I chased it with did wonders for my anxious
mood, and I was almost relaxed by the time I pushed away from the dinner table.
Gabriel, with his insane appetite, was on his third plate of noodles and still
going strong.

I
left the rest of the wine to Gabe and went upstairs to get some rest. A clean
set of sheets from the linen closet went on a bed in the guestroom, and my
rifle and gun belt went on the bedside table, close at hand. The only clothes I
took off before lying down were my boots; I wanted to be able to leave on a
moment’s notice. The bed was warm, soft, and comfortable when I climbed into
it, and I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. Approximately ten seconds
later, or so it felt, Gabe woke me up to take the watch. As I pulled on my
boots, he handed me a piping hot cup of Earl Grey with not one, but two bags of
tea in it.

 “God
bless you, you wonderful, wonderful man.” I said as I sipped the caffeine fix.

Gabe
laughed quietly. “The kettle is on the grill if you want to make some more.”

I
nodded. “I’ll probably do that, thanks.”

I
took my cup into the hallway, leaving Gabriel to settle down for the night. The
curtain over the window that overlooked the patio obscured my view of the lake,
so I pulled back one corner and looked outside. There was a full moon overhead,
and the stubborn cloud cover that had clung to the hills all week had finally
moved on. The rolling, peaceful water below reflected the moon’s bright silver
light in countless rippling flashes. Darkness enveloped the forest around the
lake, and the stars stood out bright and clear against the open sky. I spent
the rest of the night sitting in a chair staring out over the balcony, and
occasionally sneaking glances out of windows in other parts of the house just
to make sure there was nothing creeping up on us. When the sun began to peek
over the horizon, I opened the sliding glass door and risked walking out outside
for a better look.

The
chill morning air was bracing after the stuffiness of the house. Over the
eastern mountains a burnished crimson dawn flushed red, then bright gold as the
first rays of sunlight crested the peaks in the distance and cascaded over the
high country. I took in the view, and tried to fix it in my mind as firmly as I
could. I didn’t know how many more times I would get to see the Carolina
mountain country like this, and I wanted to make it last as long as I could.

Like
all good things, my peaceful reverie eventually ended as dawn gave way to
morning, and the sun climbed higher in the sky. I checked my watch; it was nearly
nine-thirty. Time to wake up Gabriel. Time to get moving.

Chapter 6

Go West, Young Man

The
approach to the lake yesterday was not very difficult due to the loose sandy
soil leading down to the waterfront. The bad part about going downhill one way
is the fact that you have to go
uphill
on the way back. Sand is easy to
walk through when gravity is on your side, but it is a holy terror when you are
trying to drag a canoe weighed down by a couple hundred pounds of supplies. It
was nearly noon by the time Gabriel and I finally finished the second overland
haul before reaching the last stretch of river on the way home. We had to stop
several times along the way to catch our breath and stretch out the painful
knots in our backs and shoulders. Despite the fact that it was only about fifty
degrees outside, we were both drenched in sweat as we dropped the canoe on the
rocky riverbank and collapsed to the ground beside it.

“I
tell you, I am getting way too old for this crap.” Gabe said, extending his legs
in front of him and reaching for his toes.

“If
that canoe is half as hard to drag as that stupid cart of yours, then you had
better seriously rethink how much stuff we’re bringing with us.” I said.

Gabe
shot me an irritated glance. “The cart has a little thing on it that I like to
call ‘wheels’. Maybe you’ve heard of them? They make moving things a lot easier.”

“Too
bad the boat doesn’t have any of those.” I said, leaning back on my elbows.

Gabe
laughed as he stood up, and reached a hand down to me. I took it and let him
haul me to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my legs. Gabe fixed the outboard
motor to its mount and I helped him push the canoe the last few feet into the
river. We both got our boots wet in the frigid water, but neither of us cared
one bit about wet feet at that point. We were ready to get home. I grabbed a
rifle and sat down in the front of the boat while Gabe fired up the outboard and
steered us into the center of the river. If there were any infected nearby the
noise was going to attract them, but we would be long gone by the time they
reached the shore. When we were about five miles from home, I saw something up
the river that made me turn around and signal for Gabe to slow down. He eased
off the throttle and sat up straight to see over me.

“What
is it?” He asked.

I
took a knee in the bottom of the boat and pointed ahead of me.

“Up
there on the right, on that old fishing dock.”

Gabe
peered over my shoulder and saw the same thing that I was looking at. There was
someone fishing on the dock up ahead of us. We were about two hundred yards
away from them, but I could tell that it was either a girl, or a very young boy.
I stood up and waved. The person responded by bending down and picking up a
hunting rifle.

“Oh,
shit.” I said.

I
brought my rifle up to my shoulder, but kept the barrel down. The person made a
show of keeping their hand away from the trigger while they looked at me
through the rifle’s scope. I relaxed a little bit, and eased my finger off the
trigger. As we pulled closer, I saw that it was definitely a young woman. Just
as I was about to call out a greeting, she slung her rifle across her chest,
picked up her fishing rod from the dock, and without a word or a backward
glance, she bounded gracefully up the embankment on a set of wooden steps and
disappeared into the forest. I frowned at the dock as we passed by it. There was
no sign of the girl.

“What
the hell was that all about?” I said, turning to look at Gabe.

He
shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Come on, let’s get going.”

Gabe
sat back down before turning the throttle on the outboard, picking up speed
against the steady current. Broad waves spread out behind us and lapped against
the shore in our wake. The rest of the ride home passed without incident, and
it was just after two in the afternoon when we pulled up to the dock where we
started our trip. I climbed the ladder to tie off the canoe to a set of cleats
before helping Gabriel stack all of our new supplies on the landing. Once we
had everything unloaded, Gabe climbed up and helped me haul the boat onto the
dock and carry it to the bottom of the embankment. It was too late in the day
for the hours of hiking it would take to bring the supplies back to the cabin,
so we cached everything in the basement of the abandoned house at the top of
the hill. Once the gear was hidden, we took a few minutes to go inside and eat
a quick lunch.

With
a full belly, and a couple of strong doses of caffeine under my belt, the hike
home went by quickly. By four in the afternoon, we were walking through the
front gate of the perimeter fence. Brian and Sarah came outside to greet us.

“Welcome
back, guys. How was the trip?” Sarah asked with a smile, as she gave us both a
quick hug.

“We
spotted another survivor.” Gabe said, taking a cup of water from Brian.

“No
kidding? Where?” Sarah asked.

“About
five miles south, down the river.” Gabe replied. “We tried to say hello, but
they ran off when we got close. Looked like a girl, maybe in her early
twenties.”

Sarah
frowned. “She ran away?”

I
nodded. “Yeah. It was weird. She had a rifle with her, and she looked at us
through the scope first. Scared the hell out of me, I thought she was going to
start shooting for a second there. Thankfully, she didn’t, but she didn’t stick
around to exchange pleasantries either. Just grabbed her gear and took off into
the woods.”

“Was
she pretty?” Brian asked.

Gabe
and I looked at each other and laughed.

“I
don’t know.” I said. “We didn’t get close enough to find out.”

Brian
looked disappointed. His mother smiled at him and motioned for us to follow her
to the cabin. She put a kettle on, and permanently endeared herself to me by
making us a mug of hot tea. While the water boiled, we hung up our coats and
weapons and left our wet, muddy boots outside on the front porch. I could feel
the tightness in my back starting to ease off after only a few minutes of
sitting in the recliner by the warmth of the hot stove. Brian showed us a
couple of rabbits and a wild turkey that he brought down the day before, and
Sarah pointed out a few fish that she caught from the stream. They wrapped the
meat up and stored it outside in the cold to keep it fresh until we were ready
to cook it. I noticed that Tom was not around, and asked Sarah what he was up
to.

“He
spotted some deer tracks down near the creek yesterday, said he was going to see
if he could bring down a buck. He took that big green rifle of yours with him.”
She said.