World of Ashes (36 page)

             
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” She said while reaching down behind the glass for the food. “You look distracted.” Her name was Barbara, and she was forever flirting with Ethan and Keith, maybe if only because they were both spoken for. She seemed like the type that was only attracted to unavailable men. Barbara batted her eyelashes and smiled.

             
“Just a busy day.” Ethan lied, the telltale nervous tic of pacing was his give-away.

             
“Just sign right here.” She said, pointing to the record book. Deputies could eat either at the truck stop, and wait in line with the Cavalry, or eat at any number of places so long as they signed the record book for billing. “How’s the Misses by the way?” Barbara leaned so that her massive breasts would appear in danger of falling out.

             
“We’re not married yet. I was thinking about asking her though. I’m just afraid of rushing into things. Never saw a relationship that a marriage couldn’t destroy.”

             
“Shoulda thought about that before you put a bun in the oven.” Another deli worker teased, making no secret that she was eavesdropping. Ethan took his food and sneered at the other lady when she turned around. After browsing the toy section for a model airplane to build in lieu of reading a book every night, Ethan went back outside to his patrol car.

“Hey rug rats
. Ya’ll seen your daddy today?” Ethan said between bites of his sandwich. The
sammich
was amazing, dripping with homemade ranch dressing. Reynolds’ kids were setting up another booth to sell and barter goods. They’d tried setting up a Payday Loan place once, but Ethan had shut them down as fast they the kid’s had opened the doors. Loansharking was loansharking, calling it a payday loan was just putting sprinkles on a turd. How Lieutenant Reynolds had raised such deviant children, Ethan didn’t know.

             
“Na. Pa says he’s busy telling that fat Kopland bitch to go fuck herself.” The now not so chubby daughter said. There was a chance she might grow up to be halfway decent looking, assuming she stopped dipping tobacco and cussing at everyone.

             
“Do you kiss your old man with that mouth?” Ethan laughed and asked about the price of a box of nails. It was within his range to trade for and he set down the re-stamped dollar coin. Someone in town was an amateur engraver and had set about putting a rather ornate Old English “
S
” on each coin. The money system was fledgling, but you could get a gallon of gas for a buck fifty, and that suited most people just fine. So long as you could provide bank statements you also got a bank credit for the amount you used to have. Refugees were given credit to a certain limit, and a tax on imported goods over half a ton was put in place. Most of these bills passed the Hall of Representatives the first go ‘round, as tax money would go a long way towards paying the servicemen and the construction workers tirelessly fortifying the town.

             
Taking his box of nails out to the patrol car, and by patrol car it was actually a Ford Escort with a sheriff’s star painted on the side only because it was a fuel efficient compact while offering a sealed box in case you needed to wait for rescue from Zim. There was no one in town the Sheriff’s department didn’t know, and no car they didn’t have on record. Chases didn’t happen, even though many a speeding ticket was written. Driving a V8 Hemi powered Police Charger in slow motion all over town was a waste of fuel and so most patrol cars were either mothballed or put on standby. Ethan drove back to his house and found Mary wasn’t home. Instead Lee was passed out on the couch, his Beretta M9 tucked discretely under the throw pillow. His brother had needed to catch some sleep and the barracks were undergoing their “Spring G.I. Party” after a bunch of teenage girls had been caught drinking moonshine with the younger cavalrymen. The men were all privates again for that stunt, and the First Sergeant wanted to find the rest of their moonshining equipment before someone made a bad batch and went blind or blew themselves up. Lee didn’t want to have to hear that kind of tough love at any time of day. It could give one such a migraine.

             
Walking up to the couch Ethan poked his brother, “Hey. Lee.”

             
“Yes?” Lee said groggily.

             
“I think there’s something you need to check out.”

             
“Later.”

             
“Well, considering he’s been missing all winter, I don’t guess a couple more hours are gonna matter either way.” Ethan started to rummage for something to eat.

             
Lee opened an eye, “Heard something about Newton?”

             
“Just a hunch. When’s the last time someone checked the caverns?”

             
“We never got around to it. Too much to do, can’t spare the manpower.” Lee sighed. He loved each and every one of his troops, but they were as troublesome as defiant teenagers.

             
“I think that might be the point.”

             
“Well, you’re more than welcome to check it out.” Lee closed his eyes again, this time tilting his hat to cover them.

             
Ethan kicked the couch with his left leg, “In case you haven’t noticed I’ve been on every hair-brained mission that’s come up since Keith and I got here. I’d send Allen, but he’s a nervous wreck too. Look, this
Where’s Newton
thing is getting old. Just take a squad and go look. Please?”

             
“Fine. I’ll put the mission on the docket.” Lee rolled over and went back to sleep. Ethan spent the next hour in the throne room reading the book
Fight Club
before going back to the police station to collect Mary. She was due soon and walking wasn’t her strong suit anymore. Ethan turned the corner toward the mayor’s office and heard the shouting through the thick oak doors.

To Ethan’s
lack of surprise Kenly was arguing with a number of teachers from the school. He was harrumphing and waving a lit cigar about so much the circulating air made the tip glow. “No! You are not teaching this fucking bullshit curriculum! You retards forget I have a Master’s Degree in Architecture, so I promise you I know how to read. I’m a hillbilly by birth and a well-educated man choice. You will not teach Liberal Progressive, anti-Capitalist, un-American bullshit to a bunch of kids who’ve just watched their world burn down around them. They need something to believe in, and right now a little Patriotism can go a long way.” Kenly swatted a stack of papers off his desk. “Let me make this clear and simple, so’s you pinko-commies can understand me. You don’t have a Teacher’s Union anymore. No Democrat Party to bankroll your bitching, or an ACL-fucking-U to call the media hounds. No one is going to defend this gibberish. Hell, your books have half of the curriculum covering multiculturalism, teamwork and tolerance instead of real-world survival skills like mathematics, social studies and history, English -for fuck sake-, Agriculture and Hunting, and Auto Mechanics and Home Repair. That was our agreed upon curriculum when I first took office. We agreed that the school system before the Apoc was more geared towards standardized test scores and babysitting irresponsible parent’s heathen children than practical education, and that you decided to change that… Well, I guess you did just that. NOW CHANGE IT BACK TO WHAT I SAID OR GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Ken
ly seethed for a moment while one of the female teachers started crying and left the room. Two more left in indignation. He flipped them off as the made their way out. “Well, what are you two waiting for?”

             
The remaining two teachers, an elderly woman who’d been teaching near Kansas City since the 1970’s, and Juan Smith, the man from the day the C-130 went down didn’t flinch at Kenly’s harsh attitude. They didn’t seem too keen to defend the largely useless curriculum their colleagues had come up with. They might have been the nay votes recorded in some places.

             
“Hey, Juan.” Ethan smiled, “I haven’t seen you since…”

             
“I left for a while. I made it as far as Ft. Leonard Wood and realized I was tired of walking and was probably going to die soon. There’s a lot of fucking Zims near that place.” Juan shook his head. “I figured I could make a go of it here, and from the looks of it I was needed more than I thought.” Jaun’s eyes leveled at Kenly.

             
“And you?” Kenly motioned to Mrs. Wu. She looked so out of place for someone who’d survived the Apocalypse. Most people were in good shape, or had gotten into good shape to survive. Mrs. Wu had an ornate cherry wood cane with polished brass at either end, and a mallard’s head someone had painstakingly carved by hand. She wasn’t Asian, but her husband had been one of the many Japanese Americans who’d served in the European theatre during The War to End All Wars: Part Deuce (aka WW2). To the best of anyone’s knowledge he’d passed away sometime in the eighties, shortly after investing in a small company named Apple.

“I’ve been a teache
r all my life, Mayor Aaron Kenly, since I was 19 years old. I’ve seen more administrations come and go than I care to count. I don’t give a good God damn if you’re a Conservative or a stark raving Commie. I am here to teach young people how to be educated young ladies and gentiles. I’ll be at what’s left of the grade high school doing my life’s work whether you want me there or not.” Mrs. Wu leaned on her cane a little bit, probably done talking, waiting for Kenly’s response.

             
Kenly nodded. “Good. I’d rather have two teachers who are politico-neutral than fifty teachers who are only here to promote an agenda that hasn’t meant anything in some time. Gives me hope.” Kenly pointed to the stack of papers on the ground. “Common sense. That’s all I want from you two. Not a two thousand page study in idiocracy. Teach kids what they need to know in the world we live in now. There’s gonna be a whole generation of uneducated cavemen out there, feral men and women who lack even the most basic human skills, others will make the commoners during the Middle Ages look like Harvard educated types. If our young are educated, and the wild people’s are not, we have the tactical and economic advantage. Catch my drift?”

             
“I think we can deliver, Mr. Mayor.” Juan said. Apparently he’d been expecting this. “I have here, in this folder, two little papers. They outline the charter for the first post-Envier Virus, Missouri Territory School.” He handed it to Kenly. “Basically, I am suggesting we run our schools more like Japan’s. Not in the aspect that we teach only memorization without context, but that we require by law all children in grades K through 10 to attend school only during the winter months when planting is impossible. The courses will be from seven in the morning until five in the evening and will be concentrating on real world knowledge needed to survive, including classes on how to deal with the Zombie Infection. There are, of course, classes on the common subjects of Math, Science, History and Language. There is nothing political in it, it’s all straight forward.”

             
“Gimme the night to read it.” Kenly was finally calm enough to put a new cigar in his mouth. He didn’t light it. He was too angry to enjoy the flavor.

             
Ethan interjected, “This isn’t Soviet Russia, Juan, we can’t force anyone to do anything, include attend school. Personally, I would also like to see a Students Bill of Rights. Call me crazy, but I think that would do more to stamp out Liberal Progressive Totalitarianism in schools than any other tactic. I think we can all agree we don’t need another generation raised to hate America like the teenagers of today. I can barely stand to speak to them. If I had the manpower I’d have kids who don’t stand for the National Anthem thrown in-”

             
“Sheriff… Shut up.” Kenly said, searching for his matches. He didn’t need to hear Ethan rant, not after his blood pressure had already been so high.

             
The two remaining teachers left the police station. “Lee’s already on it, but I got a tip that Newton might be somewhere near Meramec Caverns.” Ethan reached over the desk and flipped open an antique Zippo lighter to light Kenly’s cigar.

             
“Whatever.” Kenly fell back into his chair in a cloud of aromatic smoke. “If you find him, tell him he’s fucking fired.”

             
Ethan laughed, “Alright. I have gate duty at the Japan Outpost tonight, so I’m gonna go home and take a nap.”

             
“Still putting yourself on the roster?” Kenly seemed surprised.

             
“I kinda have to. We’re stretched so thin we only get one day a week off, and that’s assuming no one is sick.”

             
“Well, we’re sorta running out of able bodied citizens who would even want to do the Deputy’s job. Can’t trust most newcomers to wear a badge and be the wall between the people and danger of any kind. We’ve got almost everyone else tied up with shooting stray Zims, guarding The Wall or making repairs to existing buildings. We just have no one to rotate out. Pink Floyd (The Wall’s nickname) is gonna be done in a month or so, so you can get more men then. Just make do for now, Sheriff.”

             
Ethan looked over his shoulder and saw Mayor Aaron Kenly’s much younger wife bring in a chilled bottle of Southern Comfort and two shot glasses. He was no longer welcome in the Mayor’s Office because it was about to get inappropriate in there. Just to make a sick joke at Ethan’s expense Kenly wouldn’t be above doing what he was about to do to this rather plump woman right in front of the Sheriff. Ethan headed for the Japan Outpost when it was time, listening to the crickets and breathing mostly fresh air through the windows he felt safe enough to roll down. He saw the Cavalry loading up and staging vehicles at the truck stop, getting ready for a mass movement. Parking the “Patrol Car” in the only space left in the lot, Ethan walked up to the nearest soldier.