Well Fed - 05 (26 page)

The next few people to step inside the trailer were a surprise.

In came a woman and a pair of kids, a girl and a boy, wide-eyed and obviously frightened. The lady, gray haired and stiff backed, carried herself well despite her guards. Shovel thought she was in the “plain but attractive” zone. Once inside, she turned her blue eyes upon him and curled an upper lip in contempt. That surprised Shovel even more. A person didn’t often hate his guts from the get-go. That usually took a few minutes.

“Something interesting, Gio?” Shovel asked as the hulking form of Nolan closed the door and guarded the front step.

“Something, all right,” Giovanni answered and indicated the three newcomers. “This young lady right here is a doctor.”

Shovel allowed the surprise to register on his face. He blinked at his henchman then at the woman. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” Giovanni said simply. “Boys you sent over to New Brunswick, well, they spotted one respectable holdout along the water there, up in Chaleur Bay. Too big for them to handle, so they took note and decided to head on down to Nova Scotia. Drove around for a few days, scouting things out as per usual, and came across a few little pockets of civilization. Some were larger than others. One was a farm. Nice little setup. There were a few root cellars filled with potatoes, carrots, bottled jams, and the like, all ready for the winter. They even brought back a bottled deer and chickens for roasting.”

“Holy shit,” Shovel hissed, becoming even more interested in the woman and her youngsters.

“There were others, but old. Slick Pick put them down and left them in the dirt. Says there was a nurse to go with the good doctor here, but they ended up shooting her on a highway somewhere. Got mouthy or something or other. Guess she figured she was too valuable.”

“Stupid,” Shovel hissed and centered his attention on the doctor. “Don’t get me wrong. Some of my finest, most capable people are women. There’s no sexism in my camp. But there is an intolerance for stupid people.”

She didn’t answer, and the silence stretched out long enough that both Giovanni and Sick turned their heads in her direction. The boy and the girl didn’t notice Giovanni, but they certainly took stock of Sick. Most people did, regardless if they wanted to or not. He had that effect.

“What’s your name?” Shovel asked her, thinking it was best to be nice in the beginning.

But she didn’t answer.

Shovel released his breath in a long, drawn-out sigh and fixed her with a death stare. “I asked you a goddamn question.”

Her thin lips quivered, but she got out, “Maggie.”

The death stare softened. “That’s better. I’m Shovel. You’ve met Giovanni and Pick. The boogeyman to your left there is called Sick. You’re a doctor. What kind? General practitioner?”

“No.”

Shovel eyed her from underneath his bushy eyebrows.

“Emergency,” Maggie explained. “I worked emergency. Mostly.”

“Emergency.” Shovel tasted the wondrous word, studying her face and the crow’s feet about her eyes. “Well, you’ll be a welcomed addition to the camp. We don’t have a doctor, you see. Matter of fact, these days we’re reading books on home remedies if we have a problem, so you’re quite the catch. Don’t suppose you can do any dental work?”

Maggie frowned with exasperated disdain. “No, I don’t.”

“Care to learn?”

“Not really, no.”

“Let me try that one again,” Shovel said, his deep voice rumbling as if he were speaking directly into a microphone. “You
will
learn. There’s a few folks around here that need the attention of a dentist. If anything, you’ll have a better idea of how to administer anesthesia than the rest of us. If we can find some, that is. And if you can’t handle the pliers or the pulling, you sure as hell know how to stitch. That extra skill set will only increase your value around here. Might even get you the right to vote one day. Hell, to lessen the load, I’ll even give you some support staff. How does that sound?”

Maggie didn’t reply right away. “Your men shot and killed my… my friends.”

Shovel didn’t flinch from her suddenly red-eyed gaze. “You not over that yet? Then do so. They’re gone. You’re not. Your kids aren’t either if you get my drift.”

With that, he turned his attention to the girl and the boy standing at Maggie’s sides, clenching her hands. “And what’re your names?”

They didn’t answer.

“Come on now, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. I’m Shovel, and that’s all you need to call me. So who are you?”

Still no answer.

He flicked a warning glance at Maggie, who understood the message right away.

“Answer the man,” she said, giving their little hands a shake.

“Chad.”

“Becky.”

Shovel allowed a little smile at the introductions and nodded at the good doctor. He reached out and caressed the cheek of the boy then the girl. Both earned marks for not flinching at the contact.

“We have other little girls and boys in camp here,” Shovel told them. “Even have a place for you guys to play around in. Until you get a little older. Then, well, you’ll have to work like everyone else.”

“What do you mean by that?” Maggie asked him.

“Just what I said,” he replied squarely, arching a brow. “I don’t know what you were teaching them on your farm there, but here, things are a little different. When they hit thirteen, they’re big enough to pull their own weight and will be expected to. The boy in particular will be useful. Even the girl if she takes to weapons training.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open.

“Don’t give me that look,” Shovel said stoically. “This isn’t a nursery. This is civilization with all-too-real dangers. Ain’t no police out there to solve our problems. No court of law. There’s just the basic law of the land, and I think you know what that is. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just fooling themselves. The dead are gone—or almost, anyway—but the living are still around. Some in little groups, some in bigger ones. And some of them, well, they aren’t nice at all.”

“These are just children,” Maggie said. “You can’t expect them to––”

“Children are the future,” Shovel cut her off. “I know that just as much as anyone. But there’s only a limited number of hands around here. When it comes to harvesting or mending or any little job that the kids can handle, well, they’ll do it. They’ll work for their supper, and they’ll have earned it.”

Maggie kept quiet, and Shovel saw suspicion on her face. “No, don’t worry about that. No perverts around here. We’re not total assholes. And if it happens, Mr. Sick here doles out the punishment. Now then, there’s a little shack here in camp, which has been designated as the hospital—not much, but we try. I’m sure you’ll help fill in the blanks of what else we need, and when that happens, I’ll assign a few folks to head out to the nearest clinic or hospital and see what’s available, but let me be clear about something. We’re in the middle of back country out here, neighbor to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. This place used to be a secret bunker for the government, which is why we’re here. Bunkers are protected. There’s a chain-link fence around this area, with galvanized-steel razor wire on top and at the base. You know why it’s called razor wire? Take a wild fucking guess. Even if you had tools to snip through that shit, it’s all under tension and designed to lash out when cut, like a neat little butterfly knife. Or a scalpel, since you worked an ER. Now, say if someone did make it through that, well, then there’s the terrain itself to deal with. Land mines dot the surrounding forest like pimples on a freshly shaven ass. If you’re lucky enough to bypass that, I’d say a good three-day hike to whatever shitsville you might stumble upon. Populated by, well, nobody. If you’re lucky. Even if you drive, you’d have to get by the armed checkpoint in and out of this place, and you aren’t going to drive.”

Shovel smiled sympathetically.

“Who knows what else is out there. I don’t. But if the government was willing to put up chain-link fences and razor wire, well, I imagine there’s all sorts of unpleasant shit out there. The country’s crawling with more ’n a few fucked-up meth heads and crazies—some with cannibalistic tendencies. But the main reason you won’t run, the one I want to stress, is because
if
you do attempt it, we’ll find out. And when we find out, we’ll make it a game of finding you. One with a very nasty ending for you and anyone else going along. Fingers. Toes. Ears. Something will come off—and that’s the first warning. Try escaping a second time and, well…”

Shovel shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’ll kill you. Slow, if I’m really pissed off. Now, if I haven’t scared you yet, I’ll leave you with this nugget. Think of the kids.”

A visibly shaken Maggie swallowed.

“You understand me?”

Silence.

Shovel smiled wetly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Understood.”

“Excellent.” He brightened. “Then welcome aboard. Get comfortable. As a doctor, you’re entitled to your own private room and latrine. We’ll get a nice blue porta-potty hauled in behind the hospital, and someone will empty it twice a week. I said ‘hospital,’ but it’s really a clinic. You’ll see. Well. I think that’s all. Nice meeting you.”

He didn’t bother offering his hand. “And Becky? Chad?”

Their gazes lifted and centered on his face.

“Be good,” he warned them with a finger. Feeling he’d made his point, Shovel looked at Sick. “Show the good doctor her new home, and then take the kids over to theirs.”

“They’re not staying with me?” Maggie blurted. “I’m the only one they have left.”

“No, they’ll stay with the other kids. It’s better that way. Security, you see. Making sure you won’t try running or something stupid. Don’t worry, you’ll get to see them.” He shrugged one shoulder. “If you’re good.”

“I won’t do anything if they don’t stay with me,” Maggie said.

Shovel regarded her curiously. “Didn’t you just hear my little speech?”

Maggie didn’t answer. He became clearly annoyed until she nodded.

“Well, read between the lines,” Shovel said, his deep, deep voice enough to rattle the windows. He hooked his head toward the door, and Sick pulled it open and waited for the three new additions to the army. After considering for a second, Maggie pulled the kids outside while Shovel and Giovanni watched them go.

The door closed, and the two men were alone.

“Thoughts?” Shovel asked his henchman.

Giovanni shrugged and finger-combed his impressive clump of beard. “I think she’ll get along. She’ll be too worried about them young ones.”

“Hm. I hope so. First fucking doctor we’ve come across in a dog’s age. Hate to have to mutilate a kid to get my point across. I’ll do it if I have to, but I’m not a complete bastard.”

“Aw, she won’t try nothing. We’ll keep an eye on her for the first few months. She’ll make friends then forget her old life. In a year, she’ll be one of us.”

Shovel walked around his desk and sat down heavily, mulling things over. “Yeah. Maybe. Anything else from Pick?”

“He came across a small place in New Brunswick. Some hard cases running the place—got folks working the fields and such. Set themselves up. You know the type.”

I’m the type,
Shovel mused. “All right. We’ll mount up in a day or two and head that way. Liberate the good people and bring them over to the light. Wouldn’t it be something if we came across another doctor?”

“Or a dentist.”

“I’m with that,” Shovel agreed. “How many bad guys?”

“Maybe a few dozen or so. Pick didn’t spend too much time on it. He wanted to bring the doctor over right away. He hadn’t come in immediately as he’d killed Maggie’s nurse on the trip to make a point. Figured you be somewhat pissed.”

Shovel stewed on that and shrugged. “Only a nurse. And point was made, I figure.”

“Yep. Point was made.”

Giovanni sat down across from Shovel without asking. He was the only man in camp who could get away with that indiscretion. They went way back, to when they were just roughnecks starting out—not
toughnecks
, as Shovel never had liked that moniker. The noise of activity permeated the shell of the trailer, and both men listened to it for a while.

“How long do you think before we break through?” Giovanni asked, which surprised Shovel. Usually Gio was the one who had the attitude of “It happens when it happens.”

“Who knows. Could be any day.”

“We’re spread really thin out here.”

“I know.”

“With the crews hunting up food and water and the scouts out east, I’m feeling a little exposed.”

“Good thing we got the big gun.”

“Good thing is right,” Giovanni agreed. “We’re running low on gas. And diesel.”

Shovel considered those reports. The fuel powering their thirsty machines was dwindling, and some of the new fuel harvested from derelict vehicles wouldn’t actually burn, the additives that preserved octane levels finally showing their limitations.

“How long you think we have?”

Giovanni shrugged. “Depends. Best case, months. Worst case, weeks. But it’s coming. The fuel will be worthless. Maybe if we had the facilities and the know-how, we could do something, but we don’t. Just the power demands needed for a functioning plant kills the very notion. Besides that, the exact process is beyond our crew. We never refined or enhanced, only drilled.”

“We’ll be riding horses by this time next year.”

“If we can find them,” Gio commented stoically. “Any animals we find will have to be caught and domesticated all over. Too bad we didn’t lasso a few heads from that herd we saw out in Alberta two years back.”

“Too bad.”

“In any case,” the right-hand man continued, “bicycles will make do until we can come up with something better or find someone with a chemical background in processing and refining hydrocarbons.”

“We’ll be okay,” Shovel assured them both. “One thing at a time. We could punch through to the bunker any time now. They’re in there deep enough. All manner of goodies await. I guarantee it.”

“You still think there’s undead in there?”

“Course there’s undead in there.” Shovel kept his voice soft so as not to offend his friend. “That spook fella didn’t know this place had been blown. He didn’t know. That means the tunnel was blown for a reason, and with the way everything above ground was still in shape, that reason––or threat––came from within. Someone got infected, and there was an outbreak. Maybe a zombie got in there somehow. Or pissed in the water supply. Who knows? But someone blew that tunnel, and you can bet your nutsack it was because something dire went down. Over twelve hundred personnel here. I figure if there was a firefight, probably six or seven hundred of them got wiped out. Zombies, I mean. That leaves the rest unaccounted for, but I’m not worried. The crews going in have their guards, and they all have orders to run back to the cave mouth and get clear. Anything following will get mowed down by the mini. I’m not worried about any of that.”