OUTNUMBERED (Book 3) Page 4

  At two that afternoon our five vehicle convoy pulled out to start the trip to Deliverance.

  After midnight, I radioed the watch towers from the end of the lane to our compound. Gawkers lined the corridors as we escorted the group upstairs and showed them to their rooms. We tried to be quiet, but everyone woke and came to meet our new friends. Finally, we all got to bed and fell asleep for a few more hours. Late night arrivals were getting to be a bad habit.

  ~*~*~*~

  My time the following week was consumed with showing people around our compound, working with Elsie Talbot, Janice and Irene on scheduling and answering a myriad of questions. Overnight our population exploded to a total of fifty-two. Ed and I collected the diverse array of firearms brought by the new people and issued new ones of their choice from our preferred stock. Everyone seemed pleased with our choice of weapons and went to the firing range immediately. They were scheduled for target shooting every week for a month and then they would drop back to monthly practice like the rest of us. The men with Morgan were all avid hunters, so leading a target with a handgun came easy to them.

  Our school teacher, Shana Thompson, added three new students under age sixteen for a total of ten.

  With Shana's help, we initiated drastic changes to our education curriculum. After taking our vision of the declining future of mankind into consideration, the group agreed to focus on appropriate life skills training and drop detailed history, technology and geography studies. Shana would still teach the location and names of continents and countries as far as size and location, but not details about cities, populations, government and most of the notable people in history. She would touch on larger cities, countries, extinct populations, and achievements or lack thereof, only as a matter of ancient history because they no longer existed. We left mathematics, reading and writing untouched.

  The new life skills subjects centered on practical work-related skills: animal husbandry including blacksmithing; carpentry; basic building design and construction; sewing; identifying and cooking edible plants, small animals and fish; and work ethics and communal living. She would have access to any and all of our group to serve as teacher's aides in the new classes.

  The influx of new people absorbed some of our workload and freed people for projects we'd put on hold for too long. A committee of four people formed to write a record of life before and after the zombie affliction. We wanted to capture the major good and bad happenings across the globe as a snapshot of what mankind had achieved before its near extinction. One issue the leadership committee insisted on was that the report be balanced with both the positive and negative aspects of mankind, especially during our lifetime.

  Days after that, Kira and Vivian volunteered to maintain a history of the people and events that were responsible for and had shaped Deliverance.

  ~*~*~*~

  On a Sunday after lunch, I heard screaming, shouting, and shrill cursing. Upon entering the dining room I saw Grace and Kelly Pitchford, one of Morgan's daughters, being held apart by Kira and Vivian Alverez. Half a dozen others stood looking on at what must have been a rough and tumble fight. I got in the middle of them and glared at Grace and Kelly questioningly. They both spoke at once, and I waved them to be quiet. They both looked too prejudiced to tell me the unvarnished truth of what had led to their fight.

  Looking at the restrained ladies, I said, "I can guess the two of you were in a tussle. Kira, Vivian, were you two here when it started?"

  They relaxed their grips on the two lightweight contenders who each wore scratched faces and arms and mussed up hair. Vivian said, "Kelly's kids were cutting up and singing loudly. It was hilarious. Grace told them to shut up, and we ignored her. She walked over and slapped Merriam, and Kelly punched her. They went at it, and we let them tangle until it got too serious. I would have done the same thing." Kira and Kelly nodded their agreement.

  I focused on our problem child. "Why, Grace?"

  "She needs to control her damn kids. I was trying to relax and they were screaming and carrying on like a bunch of retardos."

  A chair scraped the floor as I pulled it out and sat with my forearms on the back. "You're about to wear out your welcome here. Do you really want to go back to living on the streets with the guys you were screwing for food and protection?"

  Grace's mouth gaped open and her eyes burned into me. She couldn't believe I'd called her out in front of the crowd. "Don't talk down to me, God Damn you. You and the rest of your uppity bunch don't have any idea of what I've been through or what's been done to me all my life. I've done what I had to just to survive since I was twelve."

  She turned and stomped off.

  I rose. "Stop! Now get back here. You're not going anywhere because this isn't settled. I'm not going to throw you out because I'm not giving up on you that easily. But you're going to change your attitude and learn to live in a polite and decent society or you will leave." I indicated with my hand for her to return and take a seat. In the background Andrea, Marilyn Deutsch, and Verlie stood near the door to the kitchen. "Everyone go back to what you were doing. The show's over. Kelly, I'm sorry this happened, and I'll deal with it. I want Grace, Kira and Vivian to stay. The rest of you please leave."

  Kelly said, "Merriam didn't do any—"

  I interrupted her. "Kelly! I believe you, but it's over and I'll take care of it. Let it go."

  We four sat silently as the others left. Kelly cast the evil eye on Grace and stomped off with Merriam and Vernon.

  "I'm going to ask a big favor of the two of you." I had Kira and Vivian's attention. "I need you to mentor our problem child. I think she's worth salvaging. I'll have the three of you scheduled together on the duty roster. I expect you to take Grace in hand and instruct her in how to work together and interact with other people. You both have my permission to paddle her ass or knock the hell out of her if she needs it and wherever she deserves it. Do whatever it takes because if you can't turn her around, out she goes. That's it, I'm done. Any questions?"

  Grace made as if to speak and I cut her off. "Not you, Grace. You'll do whatever Kira and Vivian tell you. If they say jump, you ask how high. If they say shit, you drop your drawers and squat. Don't cause me anymore heartburn because I've had it with your childish crap. Bye."

  As I stood to leave, Kira turned to Vivian. "I'm trying to figure out who's being punished here, her or us?"

  Vivian smiled insincerely as she addressed Grace. "I heard you've been shirking your exercise sessions. So let's go. Get up off your butt, and get dressed for two intense hours of sweat and strain. Move it."

  Grace shot back, "But this is Sunday, my only day off."

  Kira stood and leaned down to get in her face. "Move it now, little big mouth, or you'll do three hours. Or do I kick your butt first to jump start you? Be in the gym in fifteen minutes or suffer. Now run."

  I walked away choking off a laugh, confident I'd made a good decision. Grace trotted past me muttering something about my relationship to my mother. Shane, Ed, John and Ira were going to crack up when they heard my solution to our problem child. Kira and Vivian were two of the toughest, fairest, most even-handed women I'd ever met. If they couldn't bring Grace around, I didn't believe anyone could. Grace had no idea what her actions were leading to.

  ~*~*~*~

  Nine days later, Matthew and Maureen approached me while the leadership committee met in the office. "We want to talk to you." Maureen said. "We want to leave. Will you drop us off at a decent sized town, or will we have to walk out?"

  I'm sure my dumbfounded expression showed on my face. "If that's your choice, of course we'll give you a ride. But surely you realize you likely won't live long out there on your own. The zombies have taken over. Few humans remain and food and drink have become scarcer every month."

  Matthew stepped forward. "Yeah, we know the risk. But we're slowly dying here anyway. We're addicts. We can't stand being straight like you people want us to. Conforming to your rules is killing us slowly. We'd rat
her take our chances and be happy for a while before we die than live to be older here. Can you understand that?"

  I stared at them, as did the other committee members. I closed my eyes momentarily and shook my head. "I accept that it's what you want, but no, I don't understand it. I used to enjoy a drink and even got drunk a few times, but I was never hooked to the point it dominated my life."

  Maureen said, "We know we're different. But getting high is so euphoric we long for it. It's what we live for. How soon can you give us a ride out of here?"

  "The work schedules will need to be checked to see who can be spared. We don't send less than three people out, so it may take some shuffling of people. I imagine it can be arranged for tomorrow morning if that's soon enough for you."

  "Yeah," they said almost in unison with heavy exhalation of relief." Matthew added, "We know it's an imposition, thank you."

  "Two backpacks with food will be sent with you. I'll pull two handguns from the armory for each of you; there'll be a revolver and a semiauto and ammo for each of the guns. We're sorry to see you go and wish you the best of luck.”

  I stood and shook Matthew's hand and hugged Maureen. The rest of the committee followed suit, wishing the couple well, but knowing they'd be lucky to survive more than two weeks. Since the beginning of the apocalypse we'd met all kinds of people, the good, the bad, and now the stupid. But they had the right to decide how they lived and died, and we would honor their request regardless of our opinions on it.

  The next morning Ed brought an Expedition to door nine. He, James, and Tony would escort the Holdens to Ames, Iowa. Before the zombies hit, it had been a small city of about fifty-five thousand population. They'd be dropped off near a drug store or liquor store of their choice. At least half of our crew gathered to say goodbye. Some again tried to dissuade them from leaving and several cried, knowing they’d not see these two again in their lifetimes.

  I'd resigned myself to their choice and stayed inside rather than embrace the stupidity of it.

  ~*~*~*~

  Since the Grace vs. Kelly hair pulling match, I'd talked to Kira and Vivian several times about their progress with Grace the problem child. They'd felt they had been hard but firm and compassionate with her, and both felt their efforts were slowly being rewarded.

  I waited more than a month before I checked the job schedule to learn the trio's current work assignment. With my trusty rifle in hand I headed for the barn. The three of them were scheduled to muck out the stalls and put in new straw for the horses and cows. Then they were to handle the nightly milking chore. At four I walked slowly in the afternoon sunshine wishing for more than the slightest of hot breezes that blew out of the southwest.

  Before I reached the barn I heard the noise of a group of zombies coming from the woods to the west side of the barn. I hit a dead run before I heard multiple rifle blast and watched the seven decomposed bodies of the undead attackers fall leaving an uneven string of corpses in the foot high alfalfa.

  I radioed the watchtowers. "This is Tom. Everything is under control at the barn; the zombies have been dealt with. Please get in touch with Vince and ask him to bring a backhoe and bury seven zombies. Kira, Vivian and Grace will be his guards while he makes like an undertaker and performs the burial ceremony."

  Inside the barn, I heard muted voices outside the structure at the north end. The crew must have felt they deserved a break after dealing with their attackers. At the open single entrance door next to the big equipment doors, I stopped to listen. The women were engaged in an intense conversation.

  Vivian's voice sounded soft but stern. "Look, Little One, you're not the only woman whose life has been hard and shitty. I know exactly how you feel because I've been there, too."

  Grace shot back. "I really doubt that either of you have ever been abused by men the way I have. I bet with your looks, both of you led the good life before this zombie crap happened. Me, I always had to defend myself, even from my bastard father and hare-brained brothers." There was a short space of silence. Softly she continued. "Have either of you ever been raped? I bet not."

  Kira and Vivian both spoke at once, but Kira continued alone. "Grace, stop feeling so sorry for yourself and be happy for the chance you have here. Learn to adjust and roll with the punches. As for rape, I was captured by a group of asshole outlaws last year. I was beaten, raped and sodomized. They planned to feed me to the zombies after the entire group of at least a dozen was finished having rough, perverted sex with me."

  Not deterred, Grace replied, "What about you Viv? I've got you pegged as having the easy rich life."

  "Rich your ass, child. My parents in Mexico were poor to the point of starving. They sent me to the US when I was twelve to live with relatives. I was smuggled into the country illegally. When I was sixteen I thought I knew everything about life. I met a guy and got pregnant. He was twenty-three. My aunt and uncle raised the little boy because I ran off with my boyfriend." The talking stopped. "If either of you repeat what I'm about to tell you I'll kill you and then hate you forever. My boyfriend, he was a lazy, drunken bastard and pimped me out on the streets of L.A. He made me his puta, his private whore. I've been a prostitute since I was seventeen. I've been beaten, raped and forced to do tricks with multiple guys or get coat hangered. Do you know what I'm speaking of, Little One? No? Well that's when your pimp has his friends gangbang you as rough as they want anyway they want. While they're doing you, he takes a wire coat hanger and pulls it out straight so it's two stiff wires. Then his friends put you on your back and hold you down while they spread your legs apart. With the coat hanger, he beats your thighs and keeps working upward to your womanhood. Then your belly and breasts get whipped, and it starts all over again until he's sure you get the message. By then you're screaming bloody murder, crying and begging him to stop and promising you'll do anybody anyway he tells you. And all the while, he and his friends are laughing because they're high and don't give a god damn about you. You only think you've had it rough, child. Buck up and stop whining. Make something of yourself before you get tossed out of here. The luckiest thing that ever happened to me before Deliverance was being taken to Seattle where I was put to work as a high class call girl. This is the best life I've ever seen because they treat me good and nobody messes with my body or my head."

  Grace started apologizing, and I detected a little blubbering in her voice as I made my way out of the barn. I hadn't been meant to hear their exchange and it would remain a secret forever. At the south end of the barn, I yelled for the ladies before I approached to ask them to work with Vince and be his protection.

  I went out in the alfalfa field and inspected the crumpled zombies. Two of the seven had been the fast runners; they were full-bodied and looked human except for the redness in their eyes and the missing chunks of flesh where they'd been bitten to death before turning. None of us had any idea of what was happening with the newer zombies or how far the transformation could go. As usual, we'd have to wait, watch, and learn.

  ~*~*~*~

  Throughout the summer months, we increased our food gathering excursions in an attempt to stay ahead of the consumption of our fifty members. We'd taken to opening outer boxes onsite to inspect the contents rather than haul them back to Deliverance only to dump the cases anyway. Often whole pallets were ruined. Many of the containers that were liquid packed had frozen, burst, and leaked during last year's hard winter. Often the boxes weakened to the point the entire three or four high stacked pallets toppled over. Without consistent roof maintenance and repair for the last four years, some roofs leaked badly allowing rain water to soak the boxes and ruin the contents. Items like dry pasta often became mush from being wet for six or more months.

  Our past method of recording and tracking each store we'd visited and noting the conditions of the items we'd found became even more important. As our list of stores to skip grew longer so did the distance we had to travel to new sources of food. By now, human scavengers such as ourselves had cleaned out
the nearby food stuffs in Iowa, as well as the nearby border towns in Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Kansas. Instead of driving a hundred miles, we were forced to drive two and three times further. We suspected the same thing happened in most states as survivors competed for food and struggled to stay alive. Traveling farther for food added wear on our vehicles and consumed more gallons of fuel. Three additional Ford pickups and two more Excursions were acquired off abandoned dealer's lots to supplement the larger group of people at Deliverance. Driving more vehicles farther demanded more frequent runs with the fuel truck. Some of the storage tanks we'd used in the past were empty or had slowly become contaminated. Albert Gonzales suggested trying the big above ground storage tanks at Keck Energy in Des Moines. That had been a great inspiration because there were many hundreds of thousands of gallons in the gasoline and diesel tanks he identified. Hopefully, the tanks would offer a bountiful supply for years to come.

  Our huge gardens represented an experiment on one hand and a definite necessity on the other. That it was imperative we learn to feed ourselves, was a given. But how far could we afford to continue to use modern technology to enhance output? One member suggested we set a diesel pump at the lake and run a three or four inch pipe to the gardens for irrigation. Another wanted to use commercial fertilizer, insecticides and repellants, and weed control products as long as they were available.

  The leadership committee circulated among all of our members to explain that we should get used to depending on natural rainfall, and if we used modern chemical methods until the supply of them was expended we could be left with a severe food shortage as we learned to cope. We convinced them the hard way was a wiser choice now, until we got it right, while we had backup food supplies. They finally agreed, even if some did so grudgingly. As a compromise, we agreed to use pumped water and chemicals on half our fields and grow the others naturally to learn how to deal with the environment and insects.