Chapter One

 

 

 

Early September, 2013

 

Rocky Mountain Way by Joe Walsh was blasting from the speakers at the house, and we could see Charlie sitting on the porch from our vantage point, Bunsen and Slider at her feet.

A good breeze had begun to blow the evening before, and distant storm clouds would appear every so often. It had increased by the morning, but it wasn’t so bad that we had to put off our work, because so far, no rain had reached us.

We could hear the music floating on this breeze from the field where Gem, Hemp and I worked, putting in perimeter fence posts in preparation for our multi-purpose pasture.

I looked over at Gem now and then, just making sure everything was cool. She’d caught me looking a few times and gave me a wave and a smile, but then her eyes turned right back down to the baby carrier where our son, little Flex Sheridan Jr., was kickin’ it while his mama, daddy and Uncle Hemp worked on the fence.

Just a glance, then back to her post hole digger.

Impressive, she was. Hands together, jamming that digger down into the soil, spreading it apart, lifting, turning and making a pile of dirt.

We initially considered using a gas-powered auger, but because of Hemp’s suspicion that the red-eyes had regained significant audible senses, we were only willing to take chances with Joe Walsh.

I could see Gem’s glistening muscles from two post holes away, wet with sweat, working hard beneath a blazing sun that was busily heating Whitmire, South Carolina to a toasty 85 degrees, despite the wind.

We were setting the posts about 18” deep, using concrete that Hemp was busily mixing small batches of and rolling over in a wheelbarrow. When he got there, Gem would have the post down in the hole, and he’d dump the appropriate amount of concrete in and pull a level from his belt to make it straight and true.

Then on to the next one.

Occasionally, our progress was interrupted by a walker or two, but they’d been stragglers mostly. No sustained, horde-like onslaughts, and we hadn’t even seen a regular rat, much less one of the ratz with a “z” for months. Hemp was right. They were dying off, and we just weren’t certain why. Hemp confirmed the gas was still bubbling up like Jed Clampett’s Texas Tea, so how their metabolisms varied from the human zombies was anybody’s guess.

Charlie was enjoying the music, but for the most part she stayed at the house being pregnant, and she didn’t like it one bit. Every once in a while she’d ride over on a golf cart and bring everyone water and iced tea, but Hemp ordered her back in the house because of the heat and the fact that she was ready to pop any day.

What we were building was to be an urushiol-coated fence. Wood posts set in concrete, six-and-a-half feet tall and strung with thick baling wire every nine inches. We’d found a good stock of 8’ long 4”x4” lumber, so Hemp thought it would be a good idea.

We were working on the last main section, on the north side of the property. We’d already posted and wired up the top three cables on the rest of it, and when all was said and done, it was exactly what we’d intended.

Before it was all done, we’d need a total of about 290 posts and almost 14,000 feet of wire, but we like it here a lot, and we plan to stay as long as the fates allow. It’s going to be our home for the foreseeable future.

We planned to create a four-acre space that we could cross-fence inside to keep livestock, using the rest of it for planting whatever else we needed. It was our intention to become self-sufficient, and everybody was on board. We’d only begun to lay out the plans for it when Nelson disappeared, but I’m pretty sure that if he’d have known what we had in mind, the dude would have stuck around to help.

But who knows. Nelson seemed to like an adventure, and since I’m telling this story after the fact, you know by now that he went to California with Dave and Serena. Woulda been nice if he’d have shared that with us. I had the distinct feeling he was gonna need that Subdudo of his when he got back, ‘cause Gem and Charlie were bound to kick the shit out of him for disappearing like he did.

Once the fence was completed, we planned to brush coat every strand of that baling wire with a nice amount of urushiol. The sticky oil wouldn’t rinse off in water, and even old residue will fuck with a zombie’s complexion real good.

While winters were mild in South Carolina, we wanted to have everything ready for spring. We wanted a fresh start with lots of reason for hope, and that included a full vegetable garden and some fruit trees.

The town of Whitmire, which was mostly zombies, only had a few over 1400 people to start with. That meant roughly 140 uninfected folks initially had to figure out what was going on and try to defend themselves against their 1260 zombie neighbors. From what we’d seen in town, it hadn’t been pretty. We determined that around 57% of the residents of Whitmire had been women. That puts their number at around 800. Now apply the 3.13% of all women being pregnant, and we have around 25 pregnant Whitmire women at the time of the apocalypse.

Now for the disturbing calculation, which shows that even in a small town like this, there could be big trouble: 22 of the 25 women are likely zombies. Not just any zombies. Red-eyes.

After settling in to Whitmire, we immediately identified the locations of the cemeteries and put signs up to warn others away who were perhaps headed in that direction. These were old cemeteries, though, so many of the occupants weren’t quite up to reanimating. Still, people died here more recently, and we just hoped like hell that most of them had been embalmed. They can’t come back when their organs – particularly their brains – are gone.

Hemp always wonders how many are still suspended in mid-dig, though. There are bound to still be some. It can’t be an easy trek, even for the ones who never sleep.

Anyway, like I said, we intend this little remote town to be our permanent, start over point. We’re birthing babies and settling in, and we’ll protect our homestead like a country should protect its borders.

No more running to find another place, and no more attempts at community building. We’d have to start with our core group – build ourselves a safe, self-sustaining home and work our way outward, expanding as needed. We’d broadcast on the ham and tell everyone who picked it up how to extract urushiol, how to make WAT-5, and anything else that might help . We’d begun filling those super-soaker water pistols with the stuff, and the moment Taylor suggested it, we felt stupid. Of course. Water guns. The simple crap that sometimes escapes an adult’s mind.

Getting back to the spring planting season that we looked forward to. Hemp and Charlie would be parents by then, and that would sure as hell go a long way towards providing all of us more of that hope we needed so much. I’ve never had kids of my own before, but seeing little Flexy’s smile makes my day. Gem swears it’s gas, but I think the little guy is smiling at his old man.

Why wouldn’t he?

“Got it?” asked Hemp, ready to tilt the wheelbarrow.

“Hold on,” I said, moving the level off a bump on the post and adjusting it just a bit. “Okay,” I said. “Pour it.”

Hemp poured until the hole was full of concrete, and I jammed a stick down beside the post and moved it in and out, trying to work the concrete into the air gaps.

I let go of the post, checked it once more, and found it to be straight. I let go. “Good job, buddy. I say we take a break.”

Gem carried Flexy’s seat over to me and I took it from her, giving her a quick kiss.

“We’re sure getting there,” she said. “It actually went faster than I thought it would.”

“It really did,” I said. “Once they’re all in, we can work on the rest of the eye screws for these posts, then get the baling wire strung across the north end. For a while we can let the cows and horses run in the big pen.”

“We can cross-fence it using just lumber,” said Hemp. “But I think the urushiol-coated wire will be a better deterrent. Five strands of wire, five opportunities to get it on their skin.”

“How often you think we’ll have to re-coat it?” I asked..

“It’s an oil, and it’s a sticky one,” said Hemp. “Maybe monthly, just to be sure. I plan to plant poison ivy all around the outside as well, remember. And with the gas pushing them along, they should grow large and do it quickly. This could be the safest place in America when we’re done.”

The rotor sounds made us all look into the sky at the same time. We looked all around, then saw a helicopter approaching from the west. I wasn’t any expert, but it appeared to be jostling around pretty good in the wind, which gusted occasionally, surprising everyone with its force.

Gem got her weapon and raised it, and I put Flexy’s carrier on the ground and stood between it and the chopper. We all had our guns out now. After what had happened to Hemp, we weren’t taking any chances. While we knew that Dave and Serena were supposed to be in a helicopter, that didn’t mean it was this helicopter.

Then something changed. The rotor sound sputtered and died, falling silent.

I think confusion washed over all our faces, at least for a moment. As we watched, the helicopter’s nose dipped sharply as it headed straight for our open pasture.

I heard Bunsen bark and looked over. Charlie stood and moved away from the covered porch, her almost 9-month pregnant belly leading the way. Bunsen and Slider were on her heels. She got into the open and held her hand above her eyes to shield the bright sunlight as she looked at what had drawn all of our attention.

I turned back to watch its flight. The helicopter was still moving toward us, but even I could tell it was struggling to stay airborne.

“What the hell’s going on?” I asked, as Hemp stared at the now quiet bird.

“Out of fuel is my guess,” said Hemp, almost in a whisper, as though not wishing to distract the pilot, who must have been singularly focused at that moment. “It’s going into autorotation now,” he said. “Hope the pilot is good enough to bring it down safely.”

We collectively held our breath as the helicopter came in too fast, its nose now dipping impossibly low, but fighting to regain a more level flying position as the whirlybird dropped from just a hundred feet up.

Another gust of wind, probably not under thirty miles an hour, hit the field. The chopper lifted slightly, then dropped suddenly to the ground, its nose angled more sharply now. When it hit, I cringed as the dirt flew up around it. The nose bounced off the ground and back up, causing the helicopter to hit hard on the skids before bouncing yet again and angling sharply, tilting so far as to bury one of the rotor blades into the grass. The dig-in blade made the chopper’s tail swing hard left, the rotor blade pulling out of the soil, now bent to a near 45 degree angle. The rotor had prevented the bird from flipping onto its side, however, and it returned again to an upright position where it finally came to its final point-of-rest.

I heard all of us release our breath at once. The machine was now still, sitting upright about forty yards away from us, almost in the dead center of our field.

A few tense moments passed before the side door opened, and a person with long, blonde hair, wearing a helmet, stepped outside. The helmet came off, and we saw it was Nelson.

He waved at us frantically, dropped to his knees and kissed the ground before turning back to the cabin of the flying machine. He helped a blonde girl out, then others emerged behind her.

We gave a loud whoop and smiles spread across our faces as I scooped up little Flexy’s carrier and we all ran toward Nelson and the chopper.

Our friends were home. It might have been a very close call, but they had made it safely back to us.

 

*****

 

“Wow, that was freaky!” shouted Nelson. It was quiet now, so there was no reason to yell, but after being surrounded by noise for hours, it was hard to get used to speaking at a normal level, so we said nothing.

“Damned thing ran out of gas!” said Nelson, reaching us. “I can’t believe she put it down, but I had Buddha, God, and every other powerful dude occupied for a least a minute or so there.”

“It’s just good to have you back, buddy,” I said, hugging him and squeezing his shoulders. “Why didn’t you guys fill it up one last time?” I asked.

Nelson didn’t hear. He busily made the rounds, hugging everyone. We saw some others stepping out, including Dave Gammon and Serena Casteneda. My heart settled, knowing all of them had made it safely home.

What appeared to be a child got out of the pilot’s door, and I stared in disbelief. The person wasn’t looking at us, and stopped to stare up at the tweaked rotor blade.

A shake of the head. Then she took off her helmet and turned toward us, meeting our eyes for the first time. It was a woman. Not a girl, not a child of any kind. I didn’t think she could be taller than 4’10” or 4’11”.

Gem, Hemp and I went to her.

“I wasn’t a hugger before I met these folks,” said Hemp, approaching the petite woman. “But I assume you’re Rachel, and I’m impressed and so happy to meet you I can’t express it any other way.”

He hugged Rachel, who stood on her tip-toes to return the embrace. He pulled away smiling, then looked at the helicopter. “A Euro-Copter,” he said. “A very good machine, and you did an excellent job of the emergency landing. I have to ask if you’ve done that before.”

Before she could answer, Gem reached and scooped her into a hug. “I’m Gem, Rachel,” she said. “And the big, good-looking guy here is Flex. The little cutie in the carrier is our son, Flex Jr.”

“An honest-to-goodness family,” she said. “That’s nice to see.” We could see she was still a bit shaken up. She swiped the bangs from her forehead.

“I am Rachel Reed, and I can tell by your accent that you’re Hemp,” she said, looking at him. Her short, brown hair framed her small face, and pronounced freckles adorned her nose and cheeks. Deep dimples formed when she smiled nervously. “And to answer your question, I’ve only performed that maneuver in a simulator. Never had the need otherwise.”

“Well,” said Hemp, smiling, “you must have nailed it in training. Good job.”

Rachel shrugged, waving her hand toward the bent blade. “It’s not even a functioning machine now,” she said. “We’d been having some scary fill-ups with Isis aboard, and I underestimated the fuel we had left. Thought we could get here with a gallon or two to spare.”

“At least we know you have the skills necessary to fly a helicopter,” said Hemp. “Perhaps soon we can locate a solid replacement in working order.”

“Yeah, engine-wise it’s sound,” said Rachel, “but I wouldn’t be comfortable trying to straighten that rotor blade.”

“I might have the capability,” said Hemp. “Depends on how easily we can find a replacement. Meanwhile, we’ll have to figure out how to remove it from our pasture.”

“Sorry about that,” said Rachel, with an embarrassed smile.

Charlie reached the group and gave out her hugs and hellos while the dogs welcomed everyone to the neighborhood with barks and front leg bows, and some smiles that might be scary if you didn’t know them. Nobody appeared alarmed.

Gem had her arms around Dave, and she squeezed the life out of him, saying, “That about freaked us out. I can’t even tell you how much we missed you guys.”

“You were freaked out?” asked Dave, a nervous smile on his face. “When I heard the engine stop, I almost pissed myself.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “It was the same for us watching it,” said Gem. Then: “Oh, my God.” Her voice was a whisper.

I followed her eyes and saw a man with long, wavy hair like Dave’s emerge from the helicopter, holding a little girl. Behind him, another woman stepped out and immediately dropped to her knees and kissed the grass.

She stood again, dusting off her pants and looking a little embarrassed. Her blonde hair was down to the middle of her back, and she currently had it in a braid. It looked to me like it was close to Hemp’s hair color, maybe a bit more on the platinum side.

Gem let go of Dave and we both walked over to where they stood.

“You must be Bug,” said Gem, smiling, her eyes moving between the baby and the man, who stood about Dave’s height of around six feet tall.

“I am,” he said. “I take it you’re Flex and Gem?”

“You got it,” I said, holding out my hand. He secured the baby girl in the crook of his left arm and shook my hand.

“I can’t even believe we’re here,” he said. “All this shit has happened so fast.”

“Extremely fast,” said Isis, with perfect clarity.

Gem stared at her in disbelief. “I heard about her eating and sleeping habits, but not so much her language skills.“

“She’s rampin’ up,” said Bug. “Kinda freakin’ me out a bit.”

“So no sleep at all, she only eats meat, and now she’s a big talker?” I asked.

“Check, check and I guess another check,” said Bug.

Gem, leaned forward to put a hand to the child’s cheek, kissing her opposite one. “She’s a cutie-pie.” Gem then kissed Bug on the cheek and gave him a half-hug.

“And I take it you’re Lola,” I said to the blonde girl. “Good to meet you. I’m Flex and this is Gem.”

The girl smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. Her eyes were red, but we’d been prepared for that in advance, and had seen our share of the condition before. We’d get the whole story later, especially how it affected her.

“I have so been waiting to meet you guys,” Lola said. “Dave talks about you like you’re comic book superheroes.”

“Looks like Dave’s the superhero here,” said Gem, hugging Lola. I moved in when she let go and gave Lola a bear hug that she returned with enthusiasm.

We glanced over to see that Charlie stood with Dave and Serena, her arms around both of them. They hugged her back, and she stepped away from them, her hands on her stomach. “You’re going to be here for the birth!” she said. “I’m so happy about that. God, you’re here safe. And you got your uncle, Dave!”

“I did,” he said. “If not for Lola and Rachel, not to mention Isis there, we wouldn’t be here now. We might still be on our way to California.”

“Rachel’s the pilot?” asked Charlie.

“Yeah, and a hell of a pilot. You should hear what she and Nel did in Dunsmuir, not to mention what she did just now. Anyway, there’ll be time for that later. So good to see you guys. God, Charlie, you look good.”

“You do,” said Serena, hugging her tight. “Beautiful. The proverbial glowing. She leaned forward and whispered something in Charlie’s ear that I did not hear.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “Shut up!” she said.

Serena smiled back at her, and now I couldn’t help but smile myself. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” I asked.

“Yeah, what the hell’s going on?” seconded Gem.

“You gonna say it or am I?” asked Charlie.

Now Hemp put his hellos on hold and looked in anticipation.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

“Oh, my God!” said Gem excitedly. “Talk about a baby boom. We’re going to have a regular nursery!”

Gem’s expression changed suddenly. “You are staying, right? Here?”

Dave shrugged. “That kind of depends on how much Hemp learns about Isis, and what the decision of the group is,” said Dave. “I’m going where my Uncle Bug goes. I want him to stay around here, but that little girl does bring with her some interesting problems. I’d understand if the consensus went against … well, what we want.”

“Family’s family,” said Gem. “You’d have to be a serial killer to have blood ties with any of us and be exiled.”

Everyone else offered their congratulations and all of the new arrivals, including Lolita Lane and Rachel Reed were well-hugged and welcomed to the family.

“We’re going to have to get back out here for more fence detail later on,” said Hemp, “but for now, we’re done with the mixed concrete. Let’s go inside and catch up. Isis can meet the girls and the dogs.”

As we all began to walk toward the house, something caught my eye off to the west. It was a tattered rotter, his face fixed on our moving group, and one arm dangling as though broken, the other missing altogether.

“I’ll get this one,” I said. “Go on inside.”

I removed my Glock from my drop holster and walked slowly toward the creature. If I could kill it far enough from our property, we could take our time retrieving the carcass. We had created a burning pile in a pit, and it was working out well. The zombie was very near it.

I picked up my pace. When I reached it, the thing stopped and looked at my hand, holding the gun. One eye was gone, and the other was half out of the socket. His lips were entirely deteriorated, and his former comb over was now draped down to his shoulder on one side, almost non-existent on the other. His rotted teeth gnashed side to side as he emitted the low growl that sounded much like a reverberation of his vocal cords.

As I raised my gun to fire, his one arm moved up, as though to block the bullet, and a piss-poor amount of pink mist sprayed from his tear ducts. He was too slow in movement and too malnourished to generate enough vapor. Besides all that, his hand, even if it had been quick enough, would have been a poor bullet shield anyway. My hollow-point round pierced his forehead and destroyed his brain, sending it out the back of his fragile skull and onto the foliage behind him.

He slumped to the ground, more than a year after the infection that robbed him of everyone, everything and everyplace he knew, and was finally at peace.

I’d move him to the pit later. For the moment, I went into the house to talk to our new friends and family.

 

*****

 

Hemp had initially remained quiet, but his eyes never left the little girl called Isis.

Brett Gammon was indeed an older version of Dave, and I liked him right away. He was sort of wild-eyed and a pretty good storyteller, and we all quickly learned everything he’d told the rest of them back in his bunker in California.

“How long after this all began was she exposed?” asked Hemp. “Your wife, I mean. What was her name? Angela?”

“Yeah,” said Bug. “I called her Angie.”

Hemp looked at us. “This is very interesting, because I was fairly certain that the red vapor was a result of some sort of evolution over time.”

Serena spoke up. “We talked about that, Hemp. We thought that maybe the telepathy and other stuff came about over time. The ability to control the zombie masses. We might not have noticed the red vapor versus the pink, especially in groups of them.”

“Yes,” said Hemp. “But the red eyes. I suppose they could have evolved, too. Doesn’t matter anyway. They have the abilities now, don’t they?”

“Sure as hell do,” I said. “So she’s like what? A siren?”

“I want to hear it!” shouted Trina, who had been standing next to Hemp and smiling at the baby, who seemed as taken with her.

“Not that kind of siren,” said Bug, smiling and rubbing Trina’s hair. Trina pulled back and tried to straighten her blonde locks with her hand while she looked at Bug with curiosity, and I guessed a little uncertainty.

Bug then reached into a pack and withdrew a bag of beef jerky. Isis watched him closely, and her red eyes grew wide, and she smiled, holding her hands.

“Jerky!” she said. “I want a piece, daddy!”

We all stared in amazement.

“How old did you say she is?” asked Hemp.

“Like I told these guys, she was born a bit over a week after this stuff happened,” said Bug.

“She just put together a five-word sentence,” said Hemp. “That is what gifted children are capable of, and only on rare occasions. Uncanny.”

Bug gave her reaching fingers the beef jerky, and she immediately snatched it, said, “Thank you,” and started devouring it.

“We got used to this on the trip home,” said Dave. “Caught us off guard at first, too.”

In mere moments, the jerky was gone and she was looking for the bag. Bug gave her another and she started work again.

“Well, let’s show Lola where she’s sleeping,” said Charlie. “I know you don’t have much in the way of luggage, so that part should be easy.”

Nelson said, “Dude, I’ll set Rachel up with me.” He hesitated and shot her a quick glance. “I mean, if that’s alright with you, Rach,” he added.

“It’s fine, Nel,” she said, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. “I’m comfortable with you.”

Gem stood and went to Nelson. “Stand up,” she ordered.

Nelson did, and opened his arms. He knew what was coming. She hugged him tightly, and he pulled her even tighter. “You gonna kick my ass now?” he asked, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” she said. “But I’ll need to brush up on my Subdudo if I want to take you down. Right now I’m just glad you’re home. We were worried, kid.”

“I found Lola here,” he said. “She’s a siren, too.”

“Yeah she is, and she saved us all,” said Bug. “If it weren’t for her drawin’ all those bitches and their dummies away from my door, we’d still be trapped in there.”

“When I tell you it was nothing,” said Lola, her face flushed red, “I mean it came naturally.”

“It wore her out,” said Dave. “She kept it up for hours.”

Hemp looked at Lola and she shrugged. “I won’t lie,” she said. “It did tire me out, but thinking about one thing for that long, no matter what the situation, would do the same thing.”

Hemp’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and I could see his mind working. “Lola,” he said, “can you tell me what’s involved in calling them? What exactly do you do?”

Lola shook her head. “I don’t do anything more than think, come to me, come to me, come to me. Just over and over.”

Hemp rubbed his chin. “It must be translated into some command they can understand,” he said. “More like a signal than actual words. If that’s not the case, then they may have some language skills that we were not aware of.”

Lola shrugged. “The first time I did it, I didn’t know I was doing it. After I realized I could call them, the simplest command I could think of seemed to work.”

“Can you consciously turn it off? The call?” asked Hemp, and the scientist was front and center. He snapped his fingers loudly and said, “Wait! Lola, can you repel them?” asked Hemp, staring at her.

She smiled at Hemp’s excitement, and I shook my head. She addressed his question: “I think the normal state is off,” she said. “I mean, I don’t want them coming to me as a rule. As for repelling them, I tried once while we were out there,” she said. “When they got too close to me and Russell. Nothing happened. That’s when I fell. I was worried they were getting on top of us and I tried, but then I remember slipping off that rock. After that, I don’t remember anything until I woke up.”

“I wonder if the words you’re thinking are translated into sort of an impression or a abstract command,” said Hemp, obviously thinking aloud. “If I believed in such things, it would be something like a person with telekinesis making an inanimate object move. The object doesn’t have to understand what you want it to do, it just moves by the will of the mind.”

“You mean after the dead started walking you still have a hard time believing some things?” asked Gem, almost laughing. “Anyway, we’ve got time to work that stuff out later. For now, I know you guys had a long trip, so if you want to hit the hay for a while, we’re all good with that.”

“That actually sounds really good,” said Rachel.

Lola nodded, too. “I could use some sleep.”

“I thought so. We’ve got extra clothes,” said Gem. “My stuff won’t fit you, Rachel. Don’t take this wrong, but I think Taylor’s clothes will.

Rachel smiled. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’m not offended in the slightest. It won’t be the first time I’ve worn girl’s sizes.”

“I’ll share,” said Taylor. Her red hair had gotten long, and Charlie had trimmed it nicely a couple of days before, so she looked cute as a button, her perfect bangs hanging just to her eyebrows.

“C’mon, Rachel,” Taylor said. “I’ll show you my closet.”

“Mine or Charlie’s pre-maternity clothes should fit you, Lola.” Said Gem. “We’ll go on a raid and get you more after you get settled in. Follow them.”

Rachel smiled at us and waved as Taylor took Rachel’s hand and led her away with Trina and Lola right behind. I figured with Rachel’s under five-foot frame, kids took to her. She had a sweet smile, too, and I saw her give Nelson a wink as she left the room.

“She your girl, Nel?” I asked, nudging him.

Nelson returned a shy smirk. “I’m taking it sorta slow, dude,” he said. “She’s still grieving over her husband.”

“Good call,” I said. “It’s good to have you back. Glad you’re okay.”

“I was always coming back,” said Nelson. “This is home.” He pulled a baggie from his shirt pocket and said, “I’ll be right back.”

He went onto the back porch and faced away from us. I knew he was settling in with a bowl of pot. Things had returned to normal. Plus a little extra.

“Does Isis produce any of the mist?” asked Hemp.

Bug shook his head. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and crow’s feet formed at his eyes when he squinted. “Nope. Not yet, anyway.”

Bug held her on his knee and Hemp asked, “Do you mind if I hold her?”

“Not at all,” said Bug. “She’s good with everyone. You heard what she put up with back home, right?”

“I did,” said Hemp, reaching for her. “A little acrobat, this one.”

We’d all heard the Cliff’s Notes version. It was the first thing Dave told us when they got in touch via a portable Ham radio that Bug had in his vast array of supplies. They were still on their return trip then.

Hemp lifted Isis and I smiled as he put her on his knee. She stared at him, swallowing her last chunk of beef jerky.

“Little preview of what kind of daddy you’re going to make,” said Gem.

“I can’t wait,” said Hemp. “Right, Isis?”

“Right,” she said.

Hemp shook his head and smiled as he leaned down to look into her eyes. She did not break the contact, and it almost seemed as though she were analyzing him right back.

Suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed him, a little peck on the lips. Hemp laughed.

“You are a friendly one, aren’t you?’ he said, and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips.

After another second or two of close inspection, he said, “It does appear to be a layer of mist, just like with the more mature red-eyes … uh, females.” He looked at the baby’s father. “Sorry about that.”

Bug waved his hand in the air. “It is what it is,” he said. “She is a little red-eye … only a hell of a lot cuter and a shitload friendlier.”

“Aside from her high intelligence and her unique idiosyncrasies, she appears perfectly normal,” said Hemp, putting the palm of his hand on her forehead. He then felt her pulse. He looked briefly troubled.

“What’s wrong, partner?” asked Bug, obviously catching Hemp’s look.

“She’s almost cool to the touch, and that’s just for starters,” he said. “And her pulse seems off.”

“What about it?” asked Bug.

“Does she tire easily?” asked Hemp.

Bug shook his head. “No way. She’s like a fuckin’ Energizer Bunny. Why?”

Hemp took her wrist again and looked at his watch for a long time. “Twenty-one beats in thirty seconds,” he said. “Forty two.”

“That’s really low, right?” I said. “Is that dangerous for a baby?”

Hemp’s eyes showed concern, and he again looked into Isis’ red ones. “Are you alright, little one?” he asked.

“Perfect,” said Isis.

Hemp laughed. “She’s cocky, I’ll give her that,” he said. “Normal heart rate for a 1-2 year old is between 80 and 130. She’s at a third of the maximum. It’s very low.”

“Her color looks fine,” said Gem. “I might be on my first kid, but I’ve seen lots of babies. Flex, you were around Trina and Jesse when they were babies. About the same?”

I shrugged. “I defer to Hemp, but she looks fine to me.”

“Yes,” said Hemp, biting his lower lip. “She seems to be a healthy little girl, but I’ll be looking forward to taking her temperature.”

Bug shifted in his seat and seemed uncomfortable for a moment. I saw Dave look at him, and I immediately knew why. Bug didn’t make us wait to hear what was on his mind.

“I was worried about comin’ here,” he said. “After I figured out what was drawin’ all the deadheads to my place. I think she’s bound to do it wherever she goes. Is that gonna be a problem for you guys?”

Hemp shook his head and looked at me, and I said, “Hell no. You, Gem?”

“Are you kidding?” asked Gem. “She can no more control her abilities than we can control how those things out there react to them.”

Nelson came back in and everyone turned. He stopped. “What?”

“I was just saying that we don’t have a problem with Isis or her abilities. We’ll make do and use all of it to make us stronger.”

“Right on, dude,” said Nelson. “I never thought anything different.”

“Have you got a place I can catch some sleep?” asked Bug, standing as he hoisted Isis on one arm.

“Catch a nap here, Unk,” said Dave. “I guess Serena and I weren’t too convinced we’d find you and talk you into coming back with us. But, it was always our plan to set you up in the guest house at our place. Or in the main house if you want. Anyway, it’s a decent place. Might have been for workers, but it just needs a little sweeping and some bedding. We’ll head home and it’ll be ready for you by the time you nod out for a while.”

Bug nodded. “Thanks, kid, and no rush. I’m good here for a while. You take Serena and head over and don’t worry about cleanin’ that place up for me just yet. You need some shuteye, too.”

He looked around the room and his expression turned melancholy. “I’m real glad you found me, Davey. It’s good to be with family and friends for a change. Talk about goin’ stir crazy.”

Gem walked up and hugged the elder Gammon as he held the baby. She nuzzled Isis’s nose with hers before pulling away, then kissed Bug on the cheek. “God, she’s cute,” she said, smiling. “And you look like some fuckin’ Berkley professor.”

“Far from it,” said Bug. “I was plannin’ to vote for Romney when all this shit hit the fan. Absentee ballot, of course.”

Gem winked at him. He winked back, but I’m certain that whatever message was sent back and forth was lost to both of them. I was guessing that Gem didn’t believe him, and that he didn’t believe she didn’t believe him.

“Did I tell you she’s cute as hell?” asked Gem.

“You’re cute!” said Isis, smiling big.

Gem’s eyes went wide and her smile disappeared. “She’s got … like adult teeth.”

“Part of her charm,” said Bug. “She seems to let people fall in love with her before she shows them. I think it’s her intuition.”

“Wow,” said Gem, shaking her head. “Anyway, there are lots of couches and lots of bedding. It looks like everyone else nodded out, so you might as well, too. Go down that hallway and turn into the second door on the right. Our room. Nice 7’ couch in there. Close the door and we’ll leave you for a few hours.”

Bug ran his fingers through his hair. “I see why Dave likes you guys so much,” he said. “This one here will just hang out with me. I think it recharges her to be around people who are sleeping, even if she doesn’t.”

“I still can’t believe that,” said Hemp. “I’m going to want to spend quite a bit of time with her if you don’t mind,” he added.

“If you can learn from her, go for it,” said Bug. “She’ll let you know when she’s done with you.”

Flex Jr. slept soundly in his crib. Gem got up and leaned over him, touching her finger to his lips. He gave a tiny snort and stayed out cold.

“Love this kid,” she said. “It’s like he has strings attached directly to my heart.”

“I’m gonna head down the street and get some sleep,” said Nelson. “Feels good to be home. I’ll have the radio on if you guys need anything.”

“Sounds good, Nel,” I said. “Any ideas where we can set these folks up?”

Nelson shrugged. “There’s still those two places just off Shelton,” he said. “Remember? We cleared them when we got here.”

I did remember. “Yeah, tin roof on one of them, right? Maybe Rachel and Lola wouldn’t mind sharing.”

“Dude, remember?” Nelson said. “Rach is coming with me.”

“Your memory sucks,” said Gem, teasing me.

“That’s cool,” I said. “I’ve got you, and you’re always right. I’ve come to rely on you.”

“Smart ass,” said Gem. “But we’ve got Dave’s uncle and Isis, too. Maybe they can settle in the other. Be good to have him close to Lola.”

“Lola’s about as close to a red-eye as you can get without being a zombie,” said Nelson. “I’m thinking she doesn’t need anyone for protection, but they do know one another. Plus, he has a shitload of guns he brought from his bunker.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that place one of these days,” I said.

“Over a joint, brother,” said Nelson. “Photographic memory. I won’t leave anything out.”

Nelson left

There was a knock on the door.

No. Allow me to correct that statement. There was a sudden pounding on the door, followed by the sound of a woman’s screams.

We jumped up and ran to see what the hell was going on.

 

*****