Haven: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 5

  “Maybe, Danny, but I can’t say for sure. They may be immobile because any part of their body under water is mostly skeleton. I don’t think there’s a way to know.”

  “But if the cold is causing it, won’t the ones outside be the same way when it turns full-on winter?”

  “Guys, short of capturing one and freezing it in a laboratory setting, I can’t even hazard a guess.”

  Will remained silent during the conversation. He stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “It’s almost December. We’ll find out soon enough what happens to the dead when the weather freezes. Right now let’s put this bunch down and get topside.”

  Guns roared and creepers slumped under the water as the group followed Will’s instructions.

  The Judge

  * * *

  Judge Tompkins returned to his apartment in tunnel three feeling vexed. He drew on the years of experience at hiding his feelings he developed while on the bench to hide the fact, but he was put off by the newcomers. He intended to take advantage of this afternoon’s trip with their leader to discuss some hard facts. The newcomers had been at the quarry for two days, and for two days all they’d done was push and question. Push to do this and change that, question why they did that or why didn’t they do this. He had worked hard to establish a level of decorum and mutual respect with the people under his charge in the quarry. Their pushing and questioning didn’t fit with that decorum. Even worse, it threatened to upend his carefully constructed authority.

  The Judge wasn’t used to being pushed, questioned or having his authority challenged. He was born in Carthage and had lived there his entire life, except for when he was away at college and law school. Carthage was an insular town with substantial wealth. After the civil war the town was a hotbed of mining and manufacturing, and at the turn of the century it had a higher number of millionaires per capita than any other city in the United States. Those millionaires had stayed in town and kept their money there. Their sons and daughters married one another and produced more wealth. By the end of the depression, an entrenched aristocracy ruled the town.

  The years rolled along and as the seventies turned into the eighties, the aristocracy crumbled. An old manufacturer morphed into a Fortune 200 conglomerate complete with a long list of Vice-Presidents from somewhere else, all making $500,000 a year. Trucking companies sprouted, making rich men out of former over-the-road truck drivers. Carthage developed an art culture and became a Mecca of the Midwest for the art crowd. That inspired a passel of wealthy artists to become full-time residents.

  The aristocracy may have disappeared but the Old Money remained, and there were still names in the town that meant something. Tompkins was one of them.

  “Your forefathers worked hard, invested wisely and married well in order for you to have standing in this town,” his Father had told him on the morning of his fourteenth birthday. The Judge (just Jody back then, he thought. Law school and over twenty years on the bench were still ahead of him) was angry at his parents. He had won the heart of his very first girlfriend, Myra Newton. Myra’s Father was a math teacher at Carthage Junior High and Jody had a difficult time with Beginner’s Algebra. Mr. Newton arranged after-school tutoring sessions for Jody with his daughter, a math whiz. A relationship blossomed between tutor and student, one Jody’s parents knew about and approved of.

  The source of Jody’s anger was his upcoming birthday party. His parents planned a subdued soiree at the country club. The Newtons weren’t club members — Mr. Newton was a teacher, after all — and Jody’s parents refused to invite Myra as their guest. He had begged, fumed, cajoled and bargained with them for a week, and gotten nowhere.

  His lips trembled as he spoke to his father. “I don’t understand. I thought you and Mother liked Myra.”

  “We do like her, Son. She’s a pleasant young woman. But her father is a teacher, Jody. Now, there is nothing wrong with teachers- we couldn’t exist as a civilized society without them. It is a noble calling. But it’s not a wealth-producing calling. Mr. Newton isn’t a wealthy man, and my son and his daughter will always be of different social status. There’s no need to expose her to a world she’ll never be a part of.”

  “But Father, Myra and I are going to get married after I’ve finished law school and established a practice.”

  Mr. Tompkins said nothing for a long time as he regarded his son with eyes that were hard chunks of coal under heavy lids. When he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Son, when you wed, it will be to a Platt, or a Flanigan, or a Phelps. Or a girl of similar breeding and background from another town. It will not be to a school teacher’s daughter.”

  Jody stared at him, open-mouthed. “You think we’re better than they are just because we have money!” His breath came in hitches and hot tears filled his eyes.

  That’s when his Father spoke of his ancestors. “Your forefathers worked hard, invested wisely and married well in order for you to have standing in this town. They did this for you, even though they didn’t know you because you have a name that means something. You must always protect that name and never shame it. God handed you a legacy by the gift of birth. It’s your sole responsibility in this world to grow that legacy and increase the family birthright. One manner in which you do that is selecting as your bride a young woman whose family has a legacy of their own.

  “This has been quite enough. There will be nothing more said about inviting Myra to the country club or marrying school teacher’s daughters. You are my only son. You have responsibilities to me, your grandfather, and your grandchildren. You will meet those responsibilities and teach your own offspring to do the same.”

  “But that’s not fair!” Jody dared cry. For as far back as he could remember when his Father indicated the conversation was over with, ‘That’s quite enough’ he had let it be enough. But not this time.

  “It’s not about fair and unfair, right, wrong or in the middle. You’ve been bequeathed a name. That name has provided for all this,” he waved his hands at their expansive surroundings. They lived in the third biggest home on Grand Avenue, the nicest street in town. The garage housed two new automobiles every autumn, and it would house a third when Jody turned sixteen. They had maids and cooks and gardeners and vacationed in Europe in the summer. That’s what his Father meant by ‘all this.’

  “In exchange for all this,” he waved his hands again, “that you did nothing to earn. You start earning it now. You do that by making good decisions. By being a leader. By helping those in need and being a role model for those who won’t attain what you will in life. You earn it by carrying yourself the right way. And the most important way you earn it is to make it easier for your children and grandchildren to earn it themselves.”

  Jody went to the country club without Myra. The party was a dud, Myra broke up with him when he told her she couldn’t go, and he got a ‘C’ in algebra.

  He grew older and began to understand the things his Father said that day in the garden. He graduated and attended college at Washington University in St. Louis. The summer before graduation he got engaged to Sarah Hillman, the daughter of a lumber magnate and possibly the wealthiest man in town. He married and enrolled in law school at the University of Missouri. Sarah tended to their small house off campus while he went to class and studied. Neither of them needed to work- they both received generous stipends from home.

  He graduated in the middle of his class, and Carthage’s most prominent law firm made him an associate. He didn’t even have to interview for the position; the firm’s senior partner called on him in Columbia as graduation neared and offered him the position after a dinner featuring Sarah’s wonderful pot roast.

  After five lackluster years of practicing law, it was clear he would never be a top-tier attorney. He laid in bed sleepless at night, worrying the firm would fire him.

  One night Judge Robert Wright showed up at his house, unannounced. He’d been trounced by better lawyers several times in Judge Wright’s court, and he’d been on t
he receiving end of several of His Honor’s tongue-lashings in regards to his sloppy motions. Jody was sure the man hated him and was there to tell him his meager legal skills were not adequate to allow him to continue as a lawyer. But Judge Wright had been all smiles and kindness, and over a supper of Sarah’s delicious fried chicken he had dropped a bombshell. It turned out he planned to retire from the bench and wanted to back Jody as his replacement. Jody won the election in a landslide.

  He held court for almost three decades, usually running for reelection unopposed. Sarah bore him a son and a daughter. He joined the Rotary and the Masons. Invitations arrived to sit on the boards of the hospital, the youth center, and five years ago, the Fortune 200 conglomerate. On his son’s fourteenth birthday he sat him down and talked to him about legacies, responsibilities, and earning your birthright.

  His name had meant something in Carthage until this. Until the dead people sat up and feasted on the living. His job now was to lay low and not make waves, not take risks. Someday, maybe one day soon, the authorities would gain the upper hand and civilization would begin anew. Nothing was more important to him than being alive when that happened. Not for himself, mind you, but so he could assume his normal role as a community leader and help his town get back on its feet. He would just have to make sure this Will character understood that if his people wanted to stay, they would have to accept his vision.

  After all, he had a legacy to pass on to those who came after him.

  Will and Becky

  * * *

  Will sat with Becky, finishing a lunch of beef jerky, sardines, and canned pears. One of his biggest priorities, once they got settled in, was to send Coy out after fresh meat daily. Ideas rattled around his mind about how to raise hogs and beef cattle on the quarry bottom, but that was months away at the earliest. He didn’t intend to eat beef jerky and tinned meat until then.

  He had filled Becky in on the underground lake and its grisly squatters and relayed his plan regarding the field trip with The Judge. Going back to the beginning of their marriage he’d used Becky as a sounding board. She was astute and perceptive and if she thought he was about to make a bad decision, she didn’t hesitate to tell him so. On the rare occasions when he made a move contrary to her advice she never looked for an opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.

  In Will’s opinion, he had married way outside his league. He wasn’t without self-awareness; he was a decent-looking guy with a body that women found appealing. He could have ended wed to some hot little rodeo groupie with a bra size bigger than her IQ. And now, twenty years later, he would have been miserable- if it even lasted twenty years. But Becky was what baseball folks called a five-tool player. She looked stunning, with that thick and wavy mane of auburn-colored hair crowning her lithe frame. His cowboy buddies called her ‘girl cool’- she liked sports, drank her beer out of a bottle, didn’t mind getting greasy, and hung with his friends just fine, bantering with them and giving as hard a time as she took.

  His wife was smart as a whip. She would find an interest in a subject- economics, or how the hydraulics worked on their neighbor Glen’s combine, and immerse herself in it. For weeks she’d read or watch every piece of information she could find on the matter at hand. As a result, she possessed a deep knowledge about a large and eclectic range of topics. When it looked like Coy would flunk his freshman humanities class, she dove into the world of Renaissance artists and Classical Period composers, subjects about which Will and Coy were helpless as babes. She learned enough to tutor the boy from a D to a B- in just over three weeks.

  Friendly and outgoing, she possessed fantastic people skills- she had an innate ability to see people the way they saw themselves and relate with to on their level. She never judged a person based on how they looked. She understood that the prettiest girl could be a writhing mess of insecurities and the most insular and withdrawn person had an interest she could use to draw them out. Everyone that met her liked her and she always had the words at hand people needed to hear.

  To use a phrase of his Dad’s, one he reserved for people he had the highest opinion of, Becky was a dandy.

  She wrapped both arms around his waist. “Whatcha doing?” she asked in a soft voice, resting her head and shoulders against his back.

  “Woolgathering, I guess. About before.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. You ought to write stuff down. We’ll need to remember the days before if we’re going to recreate them.”

  Will snickered. “Jody believes that’s going happen next week. To hear him tell it, the military will be here over the weekend to wipe out the creepers and we’ll rebuild everything a few days after that.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re taking him out there. To disabuse him of that notion. Will it work?”

  “You saw those fields. Nobody could see that and still think the military will show up to save the day. Or that anyone is in charge out there, working to put it all back together.” He clasped her hands in his and leaned back into her.

  “Never underestimate how irrational a person can be when that irrationality supports their mindset.”

  “Yeah? One way or another, when we get back we will get started on some of these projects. Either Jody is gonna see the need or I’m gonna pistol whip him until he gives in.”

  They were quiet for few minutes. Will was content to enjoy the pressure of his wife’s body against his. Opportunities to be near one another while safe and untroubled had been rare for a long time. Becky finally broke the embrace and moved to stand beside him. They held hands and looked out at the quarry.

  “Who are you taking with you?” She asked.

  “Danny and Jiri.”

  “Just two? Is that enough if there’s trouble?”

  “There won’t be trouble.” Will said, twisting his neck from side to side. He felt the muscles there loosen and relax and heard the little popping sounds his joints made. “We’re not going far, just a few miles down the highway. There’ll be three or four of Jody’s guys, too. We’ll pop out, show Jody his precious military that he’s waiting for, pop back here and I’ll explain the new facts of life to him. If it looks bad, we’ll stay in the trucks and go back another day.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable if you took the flare gun and had a backup team loaded and ready if you need them.” She spoke softly, without making eye contact.

  He considered the best way to respond. “That’s not how we do things,” he said with a tight smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “Pretty soon, we’ll have scout teams and scavenge crews coming and going all day. We don’t have the manpower to have rescue teams loaded and ready for each of them.” He looked at her, trying to judge if he had assuaged her concerns. “Hell, Becks, I went out every day when we were on the road- looking for food, clearing a house, whatever. We never had backup teams on those jobs.”

  “I know. It was just an idea.”

  “Besides, who would I detail to the team?” He turned a full circle, looking over a quarry that was empty of people, and then focused his attention back on her. “Where the hell is everybody?”

  Becky laughed. “Well, they’re scattered about. Most everyone wandered off in twos and threes with different agendas. A few of the girls wanted to find baby clothes for Brianne…”

  “But that’s six or seven months off, right?” Will interrupted.

  “Her due date? Yes. And speaking of that, when you’re with The Judge find out what they’ve been doing for health care. I hope they have someone that can deliver a baby.”

  “I can do it if it comes to that,” he said with an easy confidence.

  Becky stared at him, silent.

  “I can. I’ve pulled almost four thousand calves in my life. I’m certain I can help deliver a baby. Babies don’t have hooves that get tangled up in the works.”

  “William Alexander Crandall!” Becky put her hands on her hips and drew up to each of her sixty-two inches up with indignation.

  “What?” He was puzzled. She on
ly used his full name when he was in serious trouble. Most of the time he didn’t know why he was in trouble until she told him, and this time was no different.

  “You have no idea what you said is offensive, do you?” She marveled, shaking her head.

  He didn’t. And while trying to puzzle it out, he saw something that made the spit dry up in his mouth. Danny and Jiri were approaching.

  “I’m sorry honey,” he said in a hurried voice. He bustled about, gathering weapons and his pack, talking fast the whole time. “Sometimes I say insensitive things, and I’ve been working on improving that aspect of my personality.” His knife clattered to the concrete floor- he missed his sheath. When he bent to pick up the blade he kicked it instead, sending it spiraling across the tunnel entrance. “But you have to admit, I’m better than a lot of my peers in that regard. At least I’m making an effort.” He got his knife put away on the second try and turned to face her. She hadn’t moved; she still stood with her hands on her hips and a disdainful look on her face. Jiri and Danny entered the tunnel.

  “What’s up?” Danny asked, his voice dripping with innocence. He looked like he was trying to hide his glee. No doubt Becky’s body language told him Will was in trouble and he hurried over to pour gasoline on the fire.

  “Oh nothing,” Becky said. “Your fearless leader here just equated childbirth with cows calving.”

  “What?” The two men said in unison, their tone one of shock.

  His wife glared at him. “I know. Can you believe it?”

  Jiri looked at him with disgust. “Pig!”

  Danny’s lip curled in contempt. “Bastard!”

  Will pointed the index finger of each hand at them. “Look, you two…” he started, but they turned away and scampered toward the truck, laughing.

  He sighed and walked to Becky, who surprised him with a loud, wet kiss on the cheek.