Haven: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Read online

  Jiri returned from his exploration acting like a seven-year-old boy at Disney World. He talked too fast and couldn’t stay focused, and his head kept shaking with wonder. “It’s a feat of engineering under there. Calling them tunnels is a misnomer- they closest word I can think of is excavations. You start down one come to a Y. If you go right or left it Y’s again, and each path has several paths off of it. You turn right and out of nowhere, you’re standing in a huge chamber with a boot factory in it. You go another way and suddenly it widens into a warehouse with ten truck bays.

  “It would be easy to get lost; there’s got to be plans or a map somewhere.” He shook his head and laughed. “I’ll tell you, Will- a walked a five-square-mile piece of the place, and there was more open space in that five square miles than there was earth.”

  Will heard people approaching and looked up with a start- he’d wool-gathered for so long that Danny and Coy had returned from their sojourn.

  “Come here, fellas,” he said as when they got close. “I may as well tell you two now. We’re going down tonight to meet the folks already here, and after they want me to make my case on why we should stay on.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. “That right?”

  “That’s right.” Will jabbed a finger at Danny’s chest. “And if I decide to let you off your leash to go with us, you’ll have two rules. One- don’t fight anybody. And two- don’t fuck anybody.”

  Danny looked hurt. “But those are my only two skills. Well, two of three if you count putting down creepers as a skill. Reckon there will be any creepers?”

  “You know, I almost wish there was. If we put down a decent-sized group of the dead that would really show those folks why they need us here.”

  Coy peered at Will with a concerned expression. “What do you think, Dad? Are they going to let us stay?”

  “Oh, we’re staying,” Will said with a grim smile. “I don’t know what they think we’re going to do, but we’re staying.”

  Becky

  * * *

  Will and his wife, Becky, found a quiet spot behind one of the huge pillars in the mine shaft that The Judge assigned to the group and helped each other clean up for the meeting. They washed one another by the light of a battery-powered lantern.

  “What is this going to be like, this meeting,” she asked him as she pulled on the cleanest pair of jeans she owned. The group had stopped two days prior for a quick meal at a riverside picnic area. She took advantage of the stop to wash her family’s clothes as best she could, but with no detergent, the most she could do was rinse them and run a bar of soap over the worst of the dirt.

  “It’s two meetings,” Will said. “The first will be a meet and greet between the two groups, a get to know each other sort of thing. After that, Jiri and I will sit down with their leadership. Tell them what we offer and why they should let us stay.”

  “Why should they?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you seriously asking me that, or are you playing devil’s advocate?”

  “The second one.”

  “Oh.” He paused before he answered, staring at the ground without seeing it- something he did when he was gathering his thoughts. “They need us because they don’t have anybody like us, and they aren’t using this place to its full potential. They don’t possess our skill for putting down creepers, they aren’t scavenging, they aren’t sending scouts out. Look at those lights atop this shaft.” He pointing at a row of industrial lighting that illuminated the tunnel before the outbreak. “Nobody’s trying to get the lights back on. They’ve been here eight months, content to sit in the dark, eating and drinking whatever they find in the warehouses.”

  Now fully dressed, Becky’s wore her luxurious, burnt sienna-colored hair down. It covered her shoulders in curls and waves, after being pulled back in a ponytail for longer than she cared to think about. She took one of his big, calloused hands in both hers and kissed it. “It sounds like they are better off now than we were for a big part of the trip here,” she said.

  “Yes, they absolutely are. If you gave me a choice between living like they live now, and the way we lived a week ago, I’d pick their life without hesitating a second. But now they have a choice. Stay fat and happy until a herd comes through, or somebody comes along and takes this away from them. Or make the changes right now that will make sure neither of those things ever happen. Get out there and find a genny, find the fuel to run it, and get these lights turned on. Find food, weapons, tools. Guard this place.”

  “What if they decide they don’t want us to stay?”

  “Like I told the boys, we’re staying. We have more firepower and are better at using it. They’re soft. They’ve been hiding in their caves and killing the occasional creeper that wandered down the hill.”

  His talk about firepower and weakness concerned her. “Go slow with them babe. Don’t try to change too much at once. And don’t hurt anyone.”

  “There’s no time to be gentle, Becks,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Living here affords me the best opportunity I’ve seen so far to keep my family and the group safe. So we’re staying here. Period.” He punctuated the word ‘period’ by slashing the air with his hand. “And if we’re going to stay here there are things to do. We have to go out and get the supplies we need that that aren’t laying around in the warehouses. We need to know if any threats exist around here besides creepers. There should be a plan in place laying out how we’ll grow vegetables and find meat and dairy when the winter’s over.” Glancing up at the top of the shaft he added, “We need light.”

  She curled a lock of hair around her index finger, her mind working furiously. Her next words would be the most important she’d said to him in a long time. The weight of the responsibility he felt for the group was causing him to make poor decisions. If she didn’t draw him back, there was a good chance the night would end in violence.

  She stood on the tips of her toes and circled his neck with her arms. “You listen.” She said softly. “You turned the sad piece of scrub land your Daddy gave you into one of the most successful cattle operations in Kansas. You kept it going when the price of beef went so low our neighbors were turning out their herds or shooting them instead of feeding them. You led a group of people over six hundred miles to safety, most of the way on foot. You succeeded at every single thing you ever tried to do, and you will accomplish all the things you just talked about. But don’t let it turn you into the type of man you’re not. Work with these people, not against them. Lead them, don’t threaten them. Teach them your way of doing things and win them over, like you’ve done everyone you’ve ever met.”

  He looked at her for a long moment in silence. When he finally spoke, his words told her she’d won him over.

  “I couldn’t have done any of that without you by my side. Wouldn’t have wanted to. I love you, Becky.”

  “I love you too.” They kissed, long and hard. She broke the embrace with a gasp and fanned her face with her hand.

  He grinned at her, and threw an arm over her shoulders.”Let’s go meet.”

  Introductions

  * * *

  Will’s group numbered seventeen people as they gathered at the meeting place, a large industrial building in a shaft near the rear of the basin. Danny flanked him on one side. On the other side stood Jiri, the towering literature professor turned adviser and strategic thinker. According to the signage above the entrance to the parking lot, the building had been a cheese production facility before the world turned to shit. Battery powered lanterns lit the first fifty feet of the shaft and the meeting area inside the cheese factory.

  This was Will’s second good look at a shaft, or tunnel, as the Originals called them, and he still couldn’t wrap his brain around the size of them. They were huge openings bored straight into the hard limestone that traveled back for dozens of miles. They ceilings were at least forty feet high, with chambers like the one they were in now that were even higher. The top of the tunnel was so high tha
t the light from the lanterns wasn’t strong enough to reach it. Its enormous width would accommodate two semi-trucks side-by-side between the support pillars, with another fifteen yards between the pillars and the tunnel walls. Poured cement finished as smooth as the cheeks on a baby’s butt covered the tunnel bottom; it was free of cracks and mars, despite hundreds of trucks pounding it every day for decades. How many loads of cement did it take to concrete just one shaft? Will thought. Had to be hundreds. And there are, what, eleven shafts? They stood ready to enter a modern, up-to-date factory, more than two hundred feet underground, in a space so vast that the factory looked minuscule.

  A young man Will had never seen greeted him at the entrance and guided the group down a short corridor. The walls were concrete block topped with Plexiglas, and the light from the lanterns though ghostly shadows on the cement floor. They passed doors with signs that read SINGLE WRAP, SHRED, and EXTRUSION. The outlines of long assembly lines and hulking pieces of equipment were barely visible in the gloom on the other side of the Plexiglas. Will made a mental note to send a team back to scour the plant and its equipment for anything useful.

  The corridor came to a tee, with narrower aisles running both ways. Their guide turned left and stopped at a pair of doors. The first had a sign above it that indicated it was a restroom. Across the aisle sat a break room. A hundred-odd people already sat on an array of picnic tables in the glass-enclosed space. Will pulled the door open and conversation inside stopped as his team entered single file.

  “It’s not too late to kill them all,” Danny muttered under his breath as he walked by.

  Jody and Mark, the leaders of The Originals, stood and greeted them. Jody, otherwise known as The Judge, was tall and patrician with an attractive head of gray hair and a regal bearing. He was a circuit court judge before the outbreak, and it was clear from the get-go that he was used to being in charge. Before Will could say more than hello, he welcomed the newcomers and suggested an agenda.

  “I think both groups should take turns standing up and introducing themselves.” He said. “Tell everyone your name and a little about you- what you did in the old days and how you came to be here at The Underground.”

  Will mentally rolled his eyes. He had no time or use for this bureaucratic, forced, let’s-all-say-a-few-words mamby-pamby nonsense, not before the outbreak and not now. If there was any advantage to the end of the world it should be that this kind of crap was behind him, but that didn’t appear so.

  “Will, why don’t you get us started,” Jody said, clapping him on the back and smiling.

  Will stepped forward and nodded hello at the strangers. “I’m Will Crandall. I raised cattle up near Maryville in Northern Kansas with my wife Becky, my boy Coy and my friend Danny.” He pointed to each as he called out their name. “The biggest herd of creepers I’ve seen since this thing started- hundreds, maybe thousands of the dead- ran us off our ranch back in February. We headed south on the rumor that there was safety at an army fort in Missouri. We picked up most of these folks,” he pointed at his group, “along the way. When we finally made it to the base, we found out the rumor wasn’t true.

  “It wasn’t a total bust, though. We ran into George over there,” he pointed out George, who turned crimson over the attention, “and he told us about this place. And, here we are.” He sat down to a smattering of hellos.

  Fifteen minutes later he stood with his back to the glass wall, gritting his teeth and fidgeting. At this rate, they would be there half the night. He ran a through a mental list of things he could be doing instead, tapping the toe of his boot on the concrete floor. Becky caught his eye from her spot at one of the picnic tables. She gave him a wink, then her eyes narrowed an almost imperceptible amount. Message- settle down and don’t cause a scene. He let out an audible sigh and walked over to take a seat by his wife.

  All the stories were the same. I had a great life before, everyone I love is dead, and I’d be dead too if it wasn’t for Will—Jody—finding this place. Finally, the last person introduced themselves and said hello. As he sat down, Jody rose to speak again. Will had kept one eye on The Judge, as The Originals referred to him, while people spoke. He listened attentively, leaning into the speakers during the most emotional parts of their stories, reacting to their comments, biting a knuckle during the scariest parts, and giving his head a somber shake during the sad. The Judge was an incredibly empathetic person or a great actor. Will vowed to determine which.

  “I want to thank everyone for introducing yourselves and sharing your incredible stories. It’s important to talk about things, especially bad things. That’s how you leave it behind you. Anyway, we’ve got soda pop and cookies here.” He gestured at an array of cans and trays laid out on a table in the back. “The pop might be a little flat and the cookies are probably on the stale side. But if you’ve been living on cold canned soup and bottled water for the past eight weeks, I’ll bet they hit the spot. So eat, drink, visit, and get to know one another. A few of us are going back to the offices to talk. No need to wait on us; I don’t know how late we will be. Everyone be safe tonight and I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow.”

  Mark, whose role seemed to consist of shadowing Jody everywhere and agreeing with everything he said, stood as well. “Cyrus?” he called, looking for someone from his group. His eyes settled on a person in the crowd. “Cyrus. Come with us, please.”

  A man stood, grumbling something undecipherable. Will tried to hide his surprise. Cyrus was short, with a face scarred from what must have been a monumental case of teen acne. He had long greasy hair, parted on the side, and wore filthy clothing. A large mass of half-chewed cookies caused a thin line of drool to leak out of the corner of his mouth. None of that caused Will to blanch in surprise.

  In the old days, the term for Cyrus was morbid obesity. He was five-foot-five, maybe five-six, and Will figured he weighed in at 325 pounds. Obesity like that wasn’t uncommon before the outbreak. But now, almost a year later, after months of want and lack and going to sleep hungry, excessive skinniness was the norm. Will had lost twenty pounds, and everyone he knew lost the same or more.

  Cyrus waddled to join Jodie. He moved as if his joints ached, like a worn out old man, and he walked with a slight limp on his left leg. He continued to grumble until he stopped next to Mark.

  Mark grimaced and reached out to wipe cookie crumbs off Cyrus’ enormous man boobs, looking away as he brushed him off. “Cyrus, Jody would like you to sit in.”

  Cyrus snorted and pushed the other man’s hand away. “Of course he would. Can’t have a good meeting without the brains of the outfit.”

  Mark didn’t reply. He turned away from Cyrus, making no effort to hide the distaste he felt. “Will, would you and a few of yours join us?”

  Will nodded. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Danny walked over and stood beside him after grabbing a handful of cookies. Will called to Jiri, and the three of them walked toward the office. The trio of Originals had already disappeared inside.

  “How do you reckon somebody that fat has kept from getting eaten for this long?” Danny asked in a low voice as they walked.

  Will closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then spoke in a low voice of his own. “Danny, please try not to get us thrown out of here or shot before we’ve had a chance to rest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Just let me do the talking in here,” Will said, as he opened the office door. The threesome entered, shutting the door behind them.

  After the Meeting

  * * *

  Will’s pace was brisk when he left the tunnel after the meeting. His hard and flinty eyes stared straight ahead and his hands curled into fists at his sides. His mouth was a straight slash under his bushy mustache and the few times he spoke it was in fast, clipped bursts of words. Danny breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up and announced he was going to find Becky. Let her deal with him when he was scary- she wore the man’s ring, after all. Danny ju
st worshiped him.

  He and Jiri were three-quarters up the road that led to the quarry bottom. It was long, steep hill with a ninety-degree curve at the halfway point. Despite the hundreds of miles he’d walked over the previous months, Danny’s thigh muscles burned and he was developing an ache in his left Achilles as they plodded up the incline.

  “Did that go about how you thought it would?” Jiri asked about the meeting.

  “Better, actually. Will kept his cool and didn’t burn any bridges, plus he didn’t kill Cyrus. Those are all positives, seeing how the meeting went.”

  The Originals made their position clear from the start. The Judge had changed his mind and welcomed Will’s entire group to stay, but he was politely and firmly uninterested in any of his thoughts and ideas. Every proposal he made was too risky, unnecessary, or both. The Originals were content with the status quo.

  Cyrus turned out to be as obnoxious and unlikeable as he was obese. Danny pretended to examine his nails while he listened to the fat man belittle each of Will’s ideas and titter when Jody shot them down. In reality, each time Will ran his hand over the top of his head and gritted his teeth, he readied himself to spring forward and save Cyrus’s life when Will attacked. He’d known the man long enough to assume at the rate Cyrus was going, he wouldn’t make it to the end of the meeting with all of his teeth. Will didn’t explode, though. He remained calm and polite, even as his frustration mounted. The best he could get was a half-hearted promise right before the meeting broke up to revisit the ideas at some vague time in the future.