Chapter 5

My research has allowed me to localize the strain that

causes the mutation, but I am unable to treat it. I need my samples and notes

from the hospital. It would be great if I could collaborate with the CDC, but

communications are down. We have to go back to where this all began.

It's been 233 days since the day it all went to hell.

T and I decided he would handle any decisions that needed a militaristic approach.

In the field, he's in charge. Our group has grown. That's both good and bad.

We've acquired some really talented people. Some of them are really attractive

too.

I see the looks and hear the whispers among those that

are not coupled off. Personalities are beginning to grate on one another being

in such close proximity.

"Hell! It's the end of the world. Why not fuck who we

want?" one guy said. "That new chick in hydroponics can ride my cucumber any

day!"

That "new chick" was Professor Diane Maneiro. She was

a botanist from the University of Maryland with degrees in botany,

biochemistry, and agriculture. She also had some medical training, and that was

a fantastic plus. She was attractive and smart too, as she completely saw

through T's considerable line of bullshit. The other women didn't take too well

to her arrival either.

Just like the men didn't care much for Andre Davis. He

was a model by day and a bouncer by night. He was also Master Leon's, our

self-defense coordinator, star pupil. He was tall, muscular, Greek god handsome

and suave; and he had a way of making women hang on his every word. Both Diane

and Andre looked like they had just stepped off a magazine cover. If the envy

and jealousy continue, we're in for a bumpy ride.

We had to ratify the rules about exiting the ARC. You

don't leave without express permission from T and I, and only then if you have

a very valid reason. It is imperative that this place remain secret. The women,

the supplies, the shelter itself are all commodities now. Some would kill to

have what is inside these walls.

T and I personally chose the raid parties. Our hunter,

Gerald, leads them. You would never guess he was a huntsman considering he was

a stockbroker. A short White country boy who grew accustomed to the finer

things in life. He grew up in the hills of Kentucky. He told me before he

attended college, he had never met a Black person before. This guy knew his

stuff, as he could track a mouse for miles.

Gerald wanted Andre to join the Raiders for his

fighting prowess, but T and I were not yet convinced that we should let Andre

back topside. Rounding out the team with Gerald are the twins, Ricky and

Robert. They're barely in their twenties, but they know their stuff and they

are loyal. Gerald trusts them, and we trust Gerald.

I met Gerald during a corporate hunting retreat for a

hospital funding drive. I can't stand hunting, but he made it bearable. He

tried to teach me to scout and track. I told him I'd learn to scout if he

learned to map the human genome sequences in a strand of DNA. Instead, I taught

him first aid, and we've been friends ever since.

We happened upon the twins while we were looking for

fuel. They were both tall and lanky, but very athletic. They both spoke with a Southern

drawl. They were holed up in the high school with a few others. They were

former jocks and real outdoorsmen. They were taught their survival skills by

their father. They were an odd pair. They really did look alike, but one was White,

and one was Black; the product of a mixed marriage.

Unfortunately, their father was not as lucky as it

pertains to survival. He tried to help some neighbors and was bitten when the

outbreak first started. A lot of people were still hazy on the details of how

the infection spread and on how to kill the DCs as television and radio

faltered before that info could be shared. One of the twins had to put him

down, but they refused to talk about it. Their mother died during childbirth,

and no one knows which parent was which color.

"Look, I know Marvin has his rules for a reason, but

I'm no threat. I'm a heartthrobbin', vapor inducin', lust creatin'

son-of-a-gun," said Andre as he swiveled his pelvis. "Why doesn't he trust me?"

"It's not that he doesn't trust you Andre, he doesn't

know you," said Leon. "Give him a chance to get to know you, and you'll see."

"Leon is right!" said Gerald. "These things take time.

We'll take you on a run and see how things unfold."

"Listen to them, Andre," I said. "A very wise woman

once told me 'Trust is not given but earned.'"

"Yeah, and who said that? Harriet Tubman?" he quipped

while giggling.

"No, it was my mother. And you'll do well to show her

some damned respect," I demanded.

"Damn, I'm sorry bro," he apologized. "It was a stupid

joke because I'm kind of nervous. I know what this opportunity means. I won't

let you down."

"It's not me you need to consider, but the community

as a whole. No one man is above the community," I replied.

I've heard the whispers. I know the drill. It's just

like when we were kids. No one respects me, and they think the only reason this

place is succeeding is because of T. They say things like he's the real leader

and I'm just a figurehead. It seems that both Andre and I have something to

prove.

So, Gerald, the twins, Andre, and I headed out. Leon

stayed behind and rarely left the ARC. T stayed behind also, as he agreed, I

needed to flex my leadership muscle. Andre had a black bag placed over his head

until we got far enough away from the ARC. There was something bugging me, and

I decided to kill two birds with one stone. We headed back to St. Margaret's

Hospital. This way, we could gather medical supplies and I could finally know

what truly happened to Em, Adam and the orderlies.

There were dozens of straggling DCs on the hospital

grounds. We decided to handle them "up close and personal" as the twins like to

say. We would use bladed weapons with little noise. It seems that noise still

tends to be the primary thing that attracts them. A few are okay for a group.

But if a herd comes your way, avoid them at all costs. It's as if they whip

each other into a frenzy.

We made our way into the hospital. The twins took a

list of things to look for and Andre and I went to check the containment unit

and my lab, while Gerald kept an eye on the perimeter. We get to the unit, but

it is empty. We rush to the refrigeration unit and Em is missing as well. We go

to my lab and the samples are still there.

"Okay Andre, can you tell me what happened here?" I

asked.

"Okay, okay! This is my first test. Let me see. Well,

there are a lot of shell casings, but no bodies. It looks like a firefight, but

all of the shells are on the same side of the room. Hmmm?!" he postulated.

"What, did you find something?" I asked.

"Well it could be nothing, but I'm guessing the dead

were shot before the shooter or shooters knew how to kill them," he said. "They

wasted quite a bit of ammo shooting unnecessarily at the torso perhaps."

"Damn fine tracking, Andre," said Gerald from the

door. "I think he's right. And look over here. The hinges on this door are

bent. It looks as if force was applied to it."

"Let's head back to the ARC. I think we got all we can

carry on this trip. The twins are looking for additional supplies as we speak—"

said Gerald as he was cut off.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh! Somebody help get these fuckas offa

me!" screamed a voice from the other side of the fence. "Help me!"

We rushed out and found a little, round, fat,

middle-aged man swinging an umbrella. God help me, but he looked like that Penguin fellow from the comic books I

read as a kid. Gerald, Andre, and I cautiously approached him from the other

side of the fence.

"Hey you! Over there! What the fuck are you waiting

for, a fucking engraved invitation?" he yelled. "Help me for fuck's sake." He

continually swung the umbrella to keep the two kid DCs at bay.

"Hold up!" said Andre. "Something about this doesn't

seem right. Where did this guy come from? I didn't see anyone on the road. Did

either of you? And am I supposed to believe he's survived this long with just

an umbrella?"

Just then, three men stepped out from behind the trees

with guns. The little fat man motioned for one of them to gather the DCs. He

used a collar stick like those employed to handle stray dogs.

"You fuckas just had to do this the hard way, didn't

you?" he screamed. "Drop your weapons and any other valuables you may have, or

my boys will open fire on you!"

I stepped forward and introduced myself.

"Excuse me, sir, but my name is Dr. Marvin Harris, and

I think there has been some type of mistake," I said. "We were here looking for

some people from the hospital."

"What the fuck did I say, asshole? Drop your fuckin'

weapons and any valuables! If you make me say it again, somebody is going to

die!" he screamed. With that, I nervously nodded at Gerald, and he gave a hand

signal to one of the twins who shot the Penguin right between the eyes.

It's never easy to take a life. It disgusts me. I took

an oath to do no harm, for God's sake. I guess everything is changing. Even

sacred responsibilities.

"Now, unless you men want some of the same, I suggest

you drop your weapons," said Andre who seemed to be completely comfortable with

the fact that we just murdered a man.

"Look, mister, we don't want any trouble. In order to

survive at his parlor, he made us do things. Things we hated doing, but we had

to do," said the men as they put their weapons on the ground. "Like I said, we

don't want any trouble. Now that he's dead, we can go back to the parlor and do

things right."

My team and I looked at each other confusedly. It's

difficult to take someone at their word nowadays.

"It could be worse," Gerald whispered, "At least they

haven't asked us about our camp."

"Hey, mister!" called out one of the men. "We can even

make it worth your while. We have information we can trade for our lives."

I looked at Gerald, and he shrugged. What did they

know that we didn't?

"Tell me what you got," I demanded, trying to sound

more confident than I was.

"Did you know if you knock out their teeth and cut off

their hands, they become docile and they keep away the other DKs?" said one of the men.

"What's a DK?"

I asked.

"You know, as in a decaying human being," he said.

"Well, we call them DCs as in the DeCeased or dead

carcasses," I said.

"Also, if you find yourself surrounded with no way

out, they tend to ignore you if you're covered with their innards. We learned

that at the funeral parlor. Well, is it enough? Can we go?" the now de facto

leader asked.

 "Yeah, but

before you go, know this: We patrol this area now," I said. "If I ever see you

jacking people again, we're going to shoot first, no questions asked!"

"Don't worry, sir, our jacking days are over. May we

pick up our weapons?" he asked.

"You can pick up one weapon," I said. "Leave the rest!"

"And take the umbrella too as a reminder," Andre

added. "Besides, it looks like rain."

They picked up one of the rifles and the umbrella and

backed away slowly into the wooded area near the hospital. The twins joined us

from the second floor of the hospital as we gathered the guns and made our way

to our van. We noticed a Cadillac with the vanity plate "DADDYRICH" on it. We

drained the tank and made our way back to the ARC.

I thought about the information that those men shared

with us. It's times like this I wish that I had studied behavioral psychology.

It might help if we knew why they behaved the way that they did.

As we neared the ARC, Gerald held up the black bag. I

waved him off. Andre had earned his spot. But I was a bit concerned with his

glibness at taking a life.

"Welcome to the team, Andre," I said. "You did well

out there. Your instincts were sharp, and you really impressed me. I do have a

question for you though: Did that Penguin fellow have to die?"

"Well, I think so. Look, I get no joy out of taking a

life. Especially a human life, but if we had allowed him to live, there is a

strong possibility that he would have wanted to retaliate. As it is, I don't

know if letting his men go was a good idea or not, but I'm not into

second-guessing you," he said. "You're the leader. What you say goes. I don't

want anyone to think I'm an asshole, but we have to behave differently in this

different world."

I nodded as we drove the van onto the farm and parked

inside the decrepit barn. I was a little relieved to hear Andre's thoughts on

what transpired. We moved the floor panel and made our way down the ladder into

the ARC. We used the chutes because opening the main entrance caused entirely

too much noise.

"Fuck you and fuck Marvin too! You all run 'round here

kissin' his ass like he's some kind of king or somethin'. Who put him in

charge, or your horny ass for that matter, T? Always lurking around trying to

fuck all da women!" yelled Cyrus. "It's the end of the world, and I can do

whatever I want!"

Cyrus Solomon Gold was a mid-level manager at the

water plant. T thought it would be a good idea to have him in case something

went wrong with the water filtration system. It looks like Cyrus is getting a

little ambitious. I wonder how T will handle this. We hang back to see how it

will unfold.

"You ungrateful son of a bitch! I stuck my neck out

for you. Remember when we found yo' bitch ass cryin', pissin' and shittin' on

yourself in that shed surrounded by those DCs? You stunk to high heaven!" T

snapped. "My best friend was cool enough to give yo' ass a place to eat, sleep

and shit in relative safety and comfort, and this is the thanks he gets? Fuck

no! If it were up to me, I'd throw yo punk ass out of here, you little bitch!"

"I'd like to see you try it, T!" retorted Cyrus. "My

tax dollars paid for this place too. I have just as much right to it as you do!"

"Boy! Don't let your mouth write checks your ass can't

cash," said T. "I ain't Marvin. I will whup yo' ass!"

"What seems to be the problem here?" I ask stepping in

before things got physical.

"What gives you da right to decide who comes and who

goes?" yelled Cyrus pointing at me in disgust. "Treating us like prisoners!"

"Why you motherf…I'm gonna kick yo' ass!" yelled T as

he lunged for Cyrus.

Leon and Gerald caught him and held him back with

difficulty. T continued to struggle to get to Cyrus.

"T, that's not how we handle things here," I said

trying to exert some authority. "Cyrus, when we found you, how many people were

you responsible for?"

"Ya know it was just me, ya asshole," he said curtly.

"Well, I was at that time responsible for 808 people.

Their safety, their very survival hinged on the decisions I made. If you want

to leave, you are free to do so, but under the provisions and conditions that

you agreed to when we allowed you into our society. You will be hooded and

released with a day's rations and one weapon at an undisclosed distance from

this location. Are you ready to leave?"

"Fuck you Marvin!" he retorted with his fist clenched.

"Okay, I'll take that as a yes…gentleman," I said

motioning to Cyrus and then the exit.

With that T, Leon and Andre grabbed, bound and gagged

Cyrus as he struggled. Andre put the bag over his head and Gerald grabbed a

pistol, a clip, about four cans of ravioli, 4 bottles of water and threw them

in a bag. Just like we had done with Jacob and his daughter, we dropped him off

far enough away from the ARC where he would never know where to find us. After

all, no one is above the community.

When the guys exited the facility with Cyrus, I

held T back and told him he couldn't antagonize people in my name, because it

undermined my authority. He told me I was being too sensitive and that I needed

to lighten up. T was being a bit of an asshole.