Silencer, p.6
Silencer, page 6
The pile of bodies was impressive now. Five of them. Getting a machete from Burt's workshop, Jake beheaded them all. It took work, and enough hits that his hand and arm got sore before he was done but ten minutes after he was finished the bodies were ready to be buried. Tipper and Vickie helped him load the cart and they started down the road. It was a pain in the butt to take the bodies that far away, nearly a mile toward town, like he planned. It always was. Not doing it meant a chance of drawing in zombies like moths to a flame. Burt figured it was the blood, the scent of it, that drew them in but whatever the reason, the land sharks would try to find fresh dead. It took an hour to get nearly a mile away, and another to dig the shallow grave. If they'd wanted a Christian burial the men should have left a note, because what they got was Tipper saying a few words.
“You stupid fucks. You deserved this.” She spoke firmly, smiling. Seeming a bit like she’d lost the plot.
Vickie laughed a little, clearly not wanting to seem too sane herself apparently, that or it was an inside joke.
Jake just sighed. Then nodded.
“Yeah... They really did. Except Sara maybe. She should have just shut up. Sleep now. Rest in peace. If you can.” They would, Jake knew, that's why he'd taken their heads.
Zombies could live without a head, keep moving and even attacking. That was a bit gross of course and eerie as a single arm kept moving or a lower torso tried to walk, flopping on the ground unable to balance. Without eyes but intact, they walked into things, and without ears or a nose they couldn't hunt well at all. They keyed in on sound first but Burt thought they must be able to smell things from a long way off, too. That was why they'd eventually work their way toward people. It was just a guess, no one knew how the dead worked for certain.
The trip back was faster, not having to pull the bodies in the high sided metal cart, which had nearly the interior space of a hollowed-out family car. The wheels were car tires and there were four of them, the body made of welded inch and a quarter steel tube. It was the last thing Burt had made before the oxygen and acetylene had run out. If it broke, they were out of luck until either they got an arc-welder going or one of them learned blacksmithing. They'd be careful, Jake decided. They couldn't afford the time off from hauling wood, he didn't think.
He took time to wash before going in, just scrubbing in a little plastic bucket that people used for that. Then Jake decided to do the whole thing and got his razor and soap, taking his time to get really clean, cold water or not. Yeah, he'd get all nasty with the wood but handling the dead always made him feel incredibly dirty. Plus, the fresh corpses had gotten blood on him when he took their heads off. Flecks and splatters that zombies seldom managed. He changed into his other set of clothes and washed the ones he was wearing before breakfast. Those he hung on the line out back to dry. They'd be stained but everything was, any longer.
Breakfast was just oatmeal and bits of deer meat, the last of it from the one Carl had gotten them. They really needed to get some animals if they could. Goats or sheep, maybe. You could eat those. Goats would eat anything he'd heard, so they could eat grass or whatever, instead of human food. There were farms around and not all of them had people, so there might well be animals not too far away. If they could catch them. Or kill them. Fresh meat would be welcome, too. Having their own would be better for winter.
Of course the end of the world would come and Jake would find himself still not getting laid and thinking about becoming a farmer. It figured really. He glanced pleasantly around the table he sat at. They had a lot of them there, nine for the seventy odd that lived at the house but he normally sat at this one with Tipper, Dave and Molly. Today he had Molly on one side of him and Carley on the other.
Jake smiled, and whispered, so softly no one heard him doing it.
“Begin degrading tirade in three, two, one...” Carley started then, almost perfectly, in time with his internal count.
It was like magic. Jake nearly laughed.
“I think that one of the women should be in charge of getting the firewood. Too many men are in control here. Two of the cleaning teams, Nate, Burt...”
Jake turned and gave her a funny look.
“Um, Carley, Tipper may have a short haircut but I think it's a little rough claiming that makes her a man. Don't you? She identifies as a woman. She/her pronouns and all that.”
No one would think Vickie a man. If Carley was the hottest woman in the place, Vickie was the second, and the margin between them on that score was close. Plus Vic had a temper. If she were actually a man in drag no one would mention it. Tipper chuckled at the scene and Dave perked up around a mouthful of oatmeal.
“Really Carley, what kind of male-centric thinking is that? What, did you think I was in charge of our team? I did put the idea forward but there were no takers yet.”
Seriously.
He had. Several times, too. The kid wanted to have them scour every house in the city one after the other. It was a good plan but it would probably lead to them all being dead. That or zombies. Get too tired for too long and the dead would get you. Everyone knew that. Even Dave, which probably accounted for why he never really pushed that hard for the idea. Now if they had about a hundred teams...
The woman next to him blinked.
“Oh, but Molly said you were in charge, Jake.” The curly headed blonde still wore shorts and the skimpy t-shirt. Her legs hadn't been shaved in a long time, if ever but that kind of social nicety had lasted about... Thirty seconds after the first real announcement. Maybe a minute. Definitely no more than a few days. Most people didn't bother shaving anything now. He did, Nate and a few other of the men too. Most grew beards. Burt's was long enough to show he'd had it for at least a year. Still, under the hair Carley had nice legs.
Jake couldn't see them at the moment, so he nodded instead of covertly staring.
Tipper spoke gently but pointedly.
“Molly hasn't really been paying too much attention for a while now. She lives in her own world. Don't you Molly?”
The girl flipped her off.
“I pay attention. Enough to know that everyone around here is screwed up beyond saving. I should just leave.”
Jake turned to Carley, trying to change the subject. It wouldn't bug him if the chubby girl left, not that he knew about. Anyone could if they wanted. It would be a virtual death sentence for her, naturally. Really, it would probably be kinder to just kill her outright and have done with it. Some people could do it and survive maybe but this particular girl needed other people too much. Molly yammered on about leaving at his back.
Jake shrugged at Carley and gave her a nod.
“Burt asked me to get the wood and set up some wood stoves and water heaters. If you want to be in charge of the wood gathering I'm all for it. I'm sure you'll do a great job. I'll get you a gun. One of the ones we confiscated last night, just for the symmetry of the thing. In case you have to shoot Holsom. Do you know how to shoot?” He made his voice sound sincere. That was easy enough because he was.
No one liked Carley. She was pushy, headstrong, and as often as not, stupidly wrong. But only about gender issues, and then mainly because she thought men controlled everything when they clearly didn't. Not anymore, at least. People listened to her anyway. She had a loudmouth, and used it, but could be compelling. As long as she didn't get into a position of real power, she'd probably do better leading most tasks than he would. Jake would just go along in case any zombies showed up. Well, and to do his share of the work. That too, of course.
“Um, no... I mean I sort of used a pistol of my aunt's once but I didn't like it.” She sounded scared and hesitant, so Jake tried for a reassuring smile and nod.
“No big thing, no one really likes them. Well, except men with penis size issues. I can show you how to shoot before we go. With any luck Holsom will be trouble and you can take care of him for us. Who's all going?”
They had a ten-person team for the day, which was nine more than he figured on, to tell the truth. They'd need more but the first ten could figure things out, then they'd bring larger groups once they knew what to do.
After breakfast he ran and got one of the guns from the armory, which was a closet in the cellar, just inside the door. He signed for it and made a notation of who it was for. Vickie had insisted on that part, so Jake went along with it. Tipper had just nodded at the time too, even though it probably wouldn't make any kind of a difference at all.
Still, it was fine for them to have a list showing who had what, at least for the honest people.
“Sign this back in if you don't need it anymore but for now I suggest you keep it with you. We need more shooters and you clearly have the chops for it.” That... was probably true.
Carley didn't exude rage or anger maybe, or insanity. She also didn't back down easily either, and would stand up to anyone, even if it was a moronic idea at the time. For instance the day before she'd been willing to take him to task, even knowing that he regularly killed people. That was pretty hardcore. She hadn't even been armed at the time.
That probably meant she'd pull the trigger when needed.
A lot of people just couldn't. They thought they could but with a zombie running at them, they only saw an unarmed person and wouldn't. That's why most people stayed around the house like they did. It was safe and secure feeling. No pesky chance of having to shoot anyone.
The shooting lesson didn't take long, since it wasn't about marksmanship yet, just about pointing and pulling the trigger and knowing how to reload. They lined up on an old tree going into the woods that would probably be cut down before winter, since it was dead already. Also close to the house. In his head he earmarked it, given all of that.
Carley missed it twice, making Holsom laugh at her. Jake spun on the man.
“Enough.” He growled, low and angrier than he'd intended. The man smiled back, managing to make it smarmy, which turned rapidly into sly.
“Sorry, didn't know you two were a couple. Did she do that thing with her mouth yet? I swear the girl could suck a Ping-Pong ball through a garden hose.”
Jake grimaced and so did Carley, who managed to blush, too.
Really, he'd figured Carley for gay, or at least smart enough to not fall for Holsom’s particular brand of diseased dickweed. She fired again, this time making a small puff appear on the tree. Nearly in the center.
“Good! Go ahead and try it again.” The nine-millimeter fired again six more times, five of them hitting. Not a perfect score but she could shoot and he had her reload the magazine herself, leaving her with a backup already loaded.
As soon as she walked over toward them Derrick smiled at her and winked.
“So, Carley, which one of you wears the pants in your relationship?”
Shaking his head Jake spoke calmly. It sounded calm at least. He was about half a second from just executing the man but then, he probably would be until the guy died. Hopefully soon. It wasn't kind of him to think that kind of thing but it was just the truth. The man needed to die for everyone's good.
Still, he smiled a bit. Not meaning it. Being gentle with a person who both needed it and didn’t deserve kindness from him at all. It was hard idea to keep in his head.
“He's trying to get us to fight by making up a relationship between us. As if we were too stupid to figure out his clever tricks. Let's not fall for it. There is no relationship, and if there was, we'd obviously both wear the pants. Everyone wears pants now. By the way Holsom, if you keep making trouble, I will shoot you. I'm looking for a reason after you sent your buddies to kill Nate last night. Honestly, I may just decide that's reason enough.” Jake waved at him and kept his voice low and dark. “Yeah, don't bother denying it, everyone knows. Could you get more obvious than sending in your own lackeys? You should have at least tried to get some of your girlfriends to try it instead. That had to be the most moronic thing I've ever seen. You couldn't even wait a few days for people to let their guards down?”
It was a dig and from the looks on their faces, everyone else really didn't know it yet. Even if it was sort of obvious and someone else should have guessed at the idea. Other than him. Carley gave him a really funny look then and nodded.
“Exactly. The only thing is, we'll tie you to that tree so I can shoot you if it comes down to it. That's why I have the gun. To kill you.” She pointed at the ex-cop with it, the safety still off. Normally that would be a very bad idea. Well, if you liked the person you were gesturing at.
Looking at her Jake kept chanting to himself for the weapon to go off. Trying to will it to happen, smiling hopefully. It didn't. Well, anyone that thought life was fair was dead or a zombie by now. Holsom didn't look scared, which made no sense. There had to be at least a forty percent chance that the weapon would go off the way she'd been holding it and waving it around. After she put it away Jake smiled big, which was forced and a bit resigned.
“Nate, Jose, there's rope in the cart, right? Um, soga en el carro?” The translation was rough but then he'd taken French in high school. Worse, he wasn't even good at it and had gotten B's.
Still, Jose got the plan and smiled hugely.
“Si!” Then he rambled off a line of Spanish so fast that no one but Nate got it. Their leader was nearly fluent. The words got a laugh and an answering line from the leader.
“He said that he has a good rope for hanging in the cart if necessary. He even knows how to tie the knots properly and recommends we put Derrick in the back of the cart and pull it out from under him, which will allow him to strangle to death slowly.”
Jake smiled and looked at the small dark-skinned man. “Bueno.”
That got an even bigger smile from Jose, who obviously took a lot more from context than Jake had figured. Or he understood more than he let on. Either way worked. If he knew how to tie a real hangman's noose all the better, since they could save a bullet.
The wood gathering was hard work but went fast enough. They couldn't work the cart into the woods very far, still, for the first day the amount wasn't bad. They managed a full cart load every three hours or so, using the chainsaws. The last load went faster since Jake asked if they could just load up the cart with logs. They got a half load of them. Apparently logs were a lot heavier than they looked. The tires sagged a bit and tried to press into the soil as they worked it back. Everyone pulled or pushed. Holsom so obviously slacking off that it really only counted as nine people doing the work and a few of them were small, like Dave and Tipper. Molly actually tried at least, which made Jake feel better.
It had been a long time since she'd actually worked at anything really. Except dying, and she kept sucking at that. Maybe she could finally get herself around if she were given enough of a chance. That would be good. He was of two minds about her but if he had to pick a path for the girl, she'd get to live and maybe even be happy someday.
Burt saw the logs and nodded at them, gesturing to Jake who motioned that Carley would be wanted too. Since she was in charge of it all, it wouldn't do to leave her out. Besides, given it was Carley, she'd throw a fit if they tried, even if it just turned out to be a discussion about sports or something. Not that they had sports. Unless killing the already dead counted. If so Jake was a pro-athlete now. That being kind of how he made his living.
The older man spoke, his voice friendly.
“We've got about two hours before dinner, we can split firewood here, and cut the logs too but we need to set up a saw pit. I'd like to try it now, so we can figure out what we need to change if it doesn't work.” Burt looked at Jake first but then spoke mainly to Carley, which made the woman look a little sour.
She sounded fine though, so maybe it was the glance to Jake first that did it.
“All right but all of us are sore. We aren't used to this kind of work. Well, I'm not. We should get volunteers to help with the digging...”
Nate had walked up behind her and stood waiting. He looked tired and hot. They all probably did. Jake just went and got a shovel and some old gloves from the work shed, then pulled four more, the pointed kind for digging. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a few extra pairs of hand protection for the others. Blisters were a bitch and he already had a few started himself that day, right where his thumbs met his hand for some reason. Hopefully digging would at least put the stress in a different place.
The ground was good farm earth, even in back of the house, which meant softer than they might have had. The soil was heavy and dark, moist still once they got about three feet down. The pit didn't have to be deep, just about four feet but they needed a raised support for the logs. That took some time to work out. Then all they had to do was send a person into the ditch to work the bottom of the saw while another worked in time with them on the top.
It turned out to be way harder than it sounded.
The coordination between the two people made the already hard physical labor even more difficult, the only combination that had any luck at all turned out to be him down in the pit and Carl on the top. Part of that was the large muscles and beefy strength the black man had but a lot of it just came down to timing. They got it together enough to cut off one round before it started getting too dark for safety. Saw dust in his hair and mouth, riding down his shirt at the back and covered with sweat, Jake tried to grin. He probably looked a sight. To make it all even better, his hands ached all over. Not just the blisters, a few of which had ruptured leaving a sticky white and pink stain in the gloves. Inside his hands, between the bones, it hurt. They felt swollen and slow.
God help him if an attack came that night. He made sure he could pull a trigger, working his fingers constantly but the deep ache would really cut his reaction time. So would the sore muscles that were already developing. That was in his arms and back mainly. Laughing a little, pretending to be fine, he tried to climb out of the pit, and slipped. Three times.
Carley, taking her new position as a leader seriously, came and helped him out. That was nearly a first since the end of the world. A few times people had helped him by mistake, or because they were helping everyone else, and Tipper had bailed him out a few times but he'd done the same for her too, and first, so it was pretty even. This time Carley just helped him. Okay, she nearly fell in and they ended up awkwardly falling all over each other when he popped out finally, being pulled backwards but as his hands barely closed or opened at the time, the help did the trick. Behind them there came laughter. Dark and a little too loud.
