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KATE
“And that,” I tell Alvarez, “is how we ended up doubling the number of Creekside. We are now sixteen people.” I don’t mention the alarming rate we’re going through food. I prefer to focus on the positive things. “Leo and his nephew Todd both worked in the”—I pause to clear my throat—“cannabis industry. They know a lot about farming. They’re in the process of expanding our indoor gardens.”
“I sure could use their expertise,” Alvarez replies. “We’re having shitty luck with our garden. I think it’s too cold here. Or maybe the soil is bad. Hell if I know. We’re having a hard time growing food.”
“At least you have seagulls to fall back on.”
Alvarez groans. “Don’t remind me, Mama Bear. I know I shouldn’t complain, but I’m sick of eating those filthy things. Can you believe two guys in my camp are trying to domesticate some? I keep telling them we need to focus on chickens. If we can ever find any.”
“We have our first kids,” I tell Alvarez. “Their names are Kristy and Evan. They’re eight and ten. You should see them kill zombies. They scurry in after the adults and bash any downed zombies over the head with rocks to make sure they’re really dead.” I grimace into the ham. “Ben calls them our child soldiers.”
“That’s ... I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I didn’t know what to think at first, either. But now I think it’s a good thing. They can defend themselves. You never know when that might come in handy. They train every day with the adults, too. Their workouts aren’t as intense, but I make sure they get the exercise they need to make them stronger. The lady who looks after them, Margie, is a retired kindergarten teacher. Let me tell you, those kids get an education with her.”
“Oh? What do you mean by that?”
“Math is taught in the supply rooms and usually involves inventorying newly scavenged supplies. Reading involves survival stories. Margie went through every dorm room in Creekside to round up suitable books. Basically, she’s combining survival skills with general education. She was something of a prepper before all this happened.”
“A prepper? Doesn’t sound like that worked out too well for her if she ended up on your doorstep.”
“It started out okay, but she lived in a condo. She had a two-bedroom place stocked full of supplies. She banded with a big group of people. Her supplies were used up pretty quick. The good news is that she knows how to can food and preserve meats. She’s been talking non-stop about finding some chickens.”
“If you guys manage to find any that aren’t dead, save a few for us, will you?” Alvarez asks.
“I’ll FedEx you some eggs. You can hatch them and start your own chicken coop.”
He chuckles. “That’s a deal, Mama Bear. How are the newcomers taking to your running regime?”
I think back to these past two weeks with Leo’s people. I don’t know the details of what they endured before they made it to Creekside, but whatever it was left them desperate enough that no one complained when I took them to the track the first time. They looked at me like I was nuts when I laid out their workouts, but no one complained.
“They’re coming along,” I say. “I’m taking it slow to help them build up their strength.”
“You sound good, Mama Bear. Best I’ve heard you sound since that alpha attack.”
I consider this. Things have lightened up since Leo’s group joined us. “They’re good people. We all have baggage, but we’re working together for a common goal. How are your people doing? Any more sign of those bandits?”
The silence on the other end of the ham is heavy. “None.”
“And the alphas?”
“It’s a good thing you gave me a heads up. It saved us the first time we ran into one.”
“Have you seen a lot of them?”
“Only two. There are no large groups of zoms out here, except maybe in Braggs, but that’s a good ninety miles from here. Speaking of alphas, how’s the science experiment going? Have you guys learned anything useful about alphas yet?”
“Not yet.”
It’s certainly not for lack of effort. Gary and Johnny have thrown themselves into the job with complete dedication. They spend most nights together after dinner going over alpha recordings taken during the day and trying to find patterns in them.
“I’m sure there will be a breakthrough eventually,” Alvarez says.
“Yo. Mama Bear.” Johnny, who sits on the other side of the table, taps his watch. “Time is up. Like, thirty minutes ago.” He grins at me, though he makes it a point to flip open his notebook and uncap his pen.
I chuckle. “Hey, Foot Soldier, I gotta go. Wandering Writer is chomping at the bit. Who’s the girl he’s talking to?”
Johnny makes a face at me.
“Bella. She’s right here tapping her watch at me.”
“Funny, Johnny is doing the same thing to me.”
“Is she really tapping her watch?” Johnny asks.
I roll my eyes and ignore the question. “Check back in three days from now, Foot Soldier?”
“Three days, Mama Bear.”