The Hive: A Post-Apocalyptic Life Page 16

  Last night, they’d all three stood at the railing on their floor and looked down at the milling people around them. Thousands were talking in low voices and it sounded like the buzz or hum of a beehive. He’d even heard laughter from lower floors, floating up. Many of these people were satisfied, to be taken care of.

  “I don’t understand how these people can be happy?” He’d said in a low voice. At the railing, they could not be overheard and were free to talk in low voices.

  “I don’t either. I ran into Karen, she’s a woman we met when we first got here. She seemed so happy here, smiling and laughing. She had a small group of friends and they were knitting. I guess they’d gotten some yarn in at the trading post. But, from what I could tell, she was content.” Megan had said, mystified. It mystified him as well.

  “I think I understand.” Tilly had said and both had looked at her in surprise. She’d flushed and shrugged.

  “It’s hard, I won’t lie. But we do have a place to live. We have a job, and we eat. I honestly feel safe here. I know I’m not going to get raped or murdered.” She said defensively.

  “Unless you break a rule.” Megan had reminded her.

  “But that’s just it. I’m not going to murder or rape or take drugs. I don’t steal. Out there, beyond the fence is now not fit to live in. You saw it.” Tilly had argued softly.

  “So, if we leave, are you coming with us?” Ian asked softly, looking around. There was no one near them by the railings.

  “I can’t, I’m afraid. Here, I know I’m safe. There are strict rules, but I can live with that. Maybe one day I’ll meet someone here. But, if I leave, I could very well die of starvation, rape or murder. I just don’t think it’s worth it. I won’t say anything if you two leave. I’ll play dumb. Just don’t tell me when you’re going to do it, because I don’t think I’ll be able to hide the sadness.” She’d said, her blue eyes tearing up.

  Both he and Megan had been stunned. She’d been institutionalized. She’d bought the loss of freedom for shelter, hook, line and sinker. She’d gone back to their cell and he and Megan had stayed at the railing.

  Ian was brought back from his musings by the jolt of the bus. He looked down at Megan, she’d gotten control of her face.

  “You sure you want to do this? You can stay.” He told her quietly and he saw her face pinken.

  “I want to get the fuck out of this place. I would rather be dead, than live in that place. Being watched and monitored. My every word listened to. Having to pretend to go along. No, I’m going with you.” Megan hissed in a low voice.

  The bus began to slow down. Ian’s heart was beating like a kettle drum, vibrating its way through his whole body. It was late morning and they were pulling into a large open field. His eyes scanned the area, looking for the best place to hide. There were clusters of trees that bordered the fields and pastures. There were also small structures. The road that led to the fields was higher than the land itself and he saw a culvert, buried. They could go there and hide. The guards would more than likely assume that they made a run for it. If or when they noticed that he and Megan were missing. There were about one hundred people crammed on the bus.

  The bus wove around and finally came to a stop. Someone opened the back door and jumped out. They would be pulling equipment out of the storage compartments beneath the bus. The people began to file out of the front, milling around. Ian kept Megan close to him and walked around back, where everyone was gathering. Several men pulled the large orange water dispensers out. Anthony, the man who would cause a diversion looked over at Ian. Ian nodded and took Megan’s hand. His heart was beating like crazy and all he could hear was his blood, whooshing through his ears. His eyes scanned; they were fairly close to the hidden culvert.

  “God damnit! You stepped on my fucking toe, you asshole.” Anthony screamed in outrage and shoved one of the men, holding one side of the orange water container. The hapless man then staggered into another man and they dropped the water container, causing a geyser of water to gush into the air. Anthony was waving his arms like a mad man and everyone turned to gawk at the commotion. Ian turned.

  NINE

  Kansas City, MO

  Trish’s breasts ached. They were engorged with milk and she felt mildly nauseated at the pain. She had to wake Caleb to feed him. Getting out of bed, she tried not to wake Hogan.

  “You okay?” He asked in a drowsy whisper.

  “Yes, I’ve got to go feed Caleb, or my freaking boobs are going to explode. No one ever told me how painful this is.” She whispered back, laughing softly.

  “If I could help, I would.” He offered.

  “Well, they say it is possible for a man to do it.” She grinned in the dark.

  “Never mind. I retract that statement. Good luck honey, you’re on your own.” He laughed and she grinned.

  “Chicken.” She sniggered and left the bedroom.

  She made her way to Caleb’s room. They were using a dresser drawer as his bed. They’d tried having him in their room, but neither could sleep when the baby made a noise. Her milk had come three days ago, she’d been trying for three days and finally, the clear fluid, colostrum, came in. Then, the next day, milk. Now, when Caleb cried, her nipples would leak. Also, Hogan touching her on her breasts were now painful. As was sleeping on them. Christ, they were a pain in the ass.

  She picked the sleeping child up. She could feel that he’d put on weight. Feeding him with the syringe did fine, but the child had been losing weight steadily, ounce by ounce. He just wasn’t getting enough. Trish had been afraid that he might starve to death before anything happened with her breasts. But he’d started putting on weight. He was due to be awake soon anyway. Every two hours, she woke to his cries. At least now, they didn’t have to go and milk the goats in the middle of the night. They couldn’t afford to let the goat milk set out for more than a couple hours.

  Keeping it in the basement had helped, but then they had to in turn, heat it up on the stove. This way was much easier, and they didn’t have to keep sterilizing the syringe. It was more painful, but once Caleb started suckling, the pain went away, and she found relief. She pulled the baby from the makeshift crib and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard. She didn’t sleep with clothing on, so it was a matter of setting him to her breast.

  He latched on quickly and began to pull and Trish sighed in relief. One breast down, the other to go. Beside her on the bed was a stack of diapers. She and Hogan had gone up into the attic of the house. She’d only been up there a few times, but she knew there were boxes and boxes from the previous owners. The previous owners were supposed to have taken them out when they moved, but they hadn’t. She’d found this out, six months after she’d moved in. It was too big a pain in the ass to empty the attic, so, she’d just left the boxes and added her own junk to the mess.

  While Caleb slept below, the two had methodically gone through every box. It had taken a few days, but they’d found a gold mine up there. They found cloth diapers and cute diaper pins. They found rubber pants, that went over the diaper. They did find an old crib, but Trish was afraid to put the baby in it. The space between the railings was a little wide. She’d have to make some kind of cloth padding, to keep the baby’s head away from it. For now, the drawer worked great.

  It wasn’t as if the baby was going to crawl out of it. They’d found a wooden highchair that could be used later, when Caleb got old enough to sit up and eat. Hogan had brought that down and had begun to clean it. It was old, but in good shape. The things they found were roughly 1960s vintage. They’d found board games, an old 1950s edition Monopoly game. They now had a nightly challenge of Monopoly, both cheating boldly and badly. Trish smiled at the thought.

  They’d also found quite a few canning jars, which would come in handy. They left those there, for when or if they needed them. They found a stroller, but the seat had rotted out. There wasn’t any place to stroll but Hogan said it would be nice to put Caleb in while they worked o
ut in the garden. He’d brought it down and cleaned it up as well. She took an old blanket and folded it. She’d then attached the blanket to the metal rungs and made a kind of hammock. The canopy was still in good shape and so they used that as shade for the baby.

  Their world had shifted and now Caleb was at the center of it. She was tired these days with little sleep and working out in the garden. Hogan had taken over care of the animals and the dogs were fascinated by the baby, sniffing and snuffling the small creature. The dogs fretted when the baby cried, but were happy when he cooed. She and Hogan also took great pleasure in Caleb, having fallen in love with him. She could only hope his mother smiled down from heaven, knowing her son was loved and cared for. It was all they could do.

  She separated the baby and put him to her other breast. He made a popping noise and groaned when he released the nipple with her help. He settled quickly on the fresh one and began his busy work. Her mind wandered as she rocked the baby. The beans were poking their heads up as were the potatoes. Things were growing well. They had surprisingly good rain showers at night. So far, all was good. They’d seen no one after Mr. Reed’s fatal visit. Both were afraid the man would have been followed. Hogan had stayed up during the next couple of nights, keeping watch.

  There had also been baby clothing in the boxes as well, and she was surprised at the quality of them. She’d washed them up and had let them dry in the clear sunshine. They were now put into the dresser. There had also been bibs and receiving blankets. The clothes were a little rough, since they no longer had dryers to soften them, but Caleb didn’t seem to mind. She and Hogan had long since gotten used to the rough clothing.

  After using the towels, the material usually softened up. She had to twist and roll the blankets to soften them up. They tended to be a little scratchy. She felt Caleb release from her breast with a soft pop. Hoisting him to her shoulder, she patted his back until she got a burp or two. Smiling, she reached over to a pile of diapers, and picked one up. The stack was sitting neatly and waiting. There was also a bucket of water with bleach. She’d wash those diapers in the morning. She had a large bucket with a mop squeegee that she could squeeze out the excess water.

  After putting him back into his drawer, she made her way back to bed. Climbing in she smiled when she felt Hogan scoot closer. He gave an interrogative squeeze of her hip and she laughed low.

  “Make it quick, I’m about to pass out.” She giggled.

  Ӝ

  Franktown, CO

  Quinn and Laura sat on the front porch. Bart and Milly were upstairs, sleeping, as were the girls. It was a cool night and felt good after a long day of working in the garden. He and Milly had dragged the bodies of the intruders into the side yard and had loaded them in the bucket of the tractor. It had been a gruesome job, but Milly had been jovial. It seemed she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. Bart had sat the rest of the evening on the couch, Allain and Alexa serving him coffee or tea and feeding him this or that. The man had reveled in the attention. Milly had just rolled her eyes.

  He and Laura had moved the mattress from the attic and had pushed the two mattresses together. The girls had been in and out to help with reorganizing Laura’s room, now his and Laura’s room. Surprisingly, the girls seemed unphased by it.

  “Are you married now?” Alexa had asked, matter-of-factly.

  “I guess we are.” Laura had said in surprise.

  “Okay.” And the now five-year-old had wandered off, yelling, “Yeah, they’re married now.” To her sister.

  Both he and Laura had laughed silently until tears fell from their faces. Then they heard Milly yell from downstairs.

  “Told ya.” Which caused them to laugh harder. Life had settled into working during the day, along with guarding the place and watches at night. Bart had skipped a night or two, until Laura had deemed him well enough.

  “What do you think Hogan is doing?” She asked him, drawing him out of his thoughts. She sometimes asked him that, perhaps feeling guilty over being happy. He knew that Laura worried about Hogan and he didn’t begrudge her those feelings.

  “Right now, sleeping, I’m sure. But I’m hoping he’s safe and perhaps happy. There’s just no telling.” It was his usual reply. He didn’t know what else to tell her. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He froze, seeing a shadow pass by, at a crouch. He knew she felt his body tense, because hers did as well. He laid his hand over hers and whispered, “Go inside and get your parents.”

  He picked up the AR15, that had been leaning against the house as she got up quietly and moved to the front door. She eased the screen door open and disappeared. Bart kept all the hinges well oiled.

  “Don’t need to announce to the world that we’re coming or going.” He said.

  Quinn crept off the porch and down into the yard. He was flat on his belly, wanting to keep a low profile and minimal silhouette. He watched the night; the porch was in heavy shadows and the moon was barely a sliver. The night was dark, and it worked to Quinn’s advantage. He heard the soft creak of wood, just audible. Bart would go out the back door and work his way around front.

  Quinn saw another figure run at a low crouch, and he had two in his sights. He waited patiently, and heard Bart coming around the side of the house. Quinn made a soft snick sound. Alerting Bart to his location. There was a soft sound in return. He knew Milly would be upstairs, her Mossberg aimed out. They’d had to patch the screens from her earlier shots out. If she shot again, they’d have to repair that screen as well. Quinn grinned at the thought. Milly was bloodthirsty.

  The dogs were in the house, he’d have let them out when he and Laura went to bed, but now, they’d give the game away. He heard the soft murmur of the grass as Bart moved slowly toward him. Above him the susurrus of the wind wove through the trees. He could hear the night crickets singing. All would appear normal, but he knew different. He felt Bart come up beside him.

  Lifting two fingers, Quinn indicated the direction he saw the two people go. That they were inside the fence line. They must have belly crawled beneath the barbed wire. Both men would wait and see where and what they were up to. Also, Quinn wanted to see if there were more people out there. There had been five before and he wondered if these two were affiliated with them. He and Milly had left the five bodies two miles up the east road. Sitting as a silent and rotting warning about going further. Perhaps, they should take these new bodies a couple miles up the west side. Apparently, the influx of people was going to be a constant problem now. He wished he’d had more barbed wire. It just wasn’t enough.

  He’d set down with Bart and Milly and come up with a strategy to set traps and early warning systems about the farm. Especially in the back, where someone could come through the forest. Digging deep pits with shit covered spikes would be one solution and he’d get started on that tomorrow. They had plenty of chicken poop and dog crap to aid in that effort. They could also string fishing line with empty cans and rocks. He thought that Milly also had Christmas bells as well. Something to make noise.

  In the woods, they could make snares for human prey. They’d just need to make sure they didn’t get caught in their own traps. He wondered if Bart had any kind of bear traps. His mind came back to task as he saw movement again. The second figure had caught up with the first. Bart bumped him and pointed in the direction, so he’d seen them as well. The two were moving cautiously and slowly. It looked as though they were heading toward the coop.

  Both men crawled along the ground. Quinn knew that Bart was waiting, like him, for the men to get past the large stack of firewood. There was a clear field of fire right after that. Quinn also knew that they’d have to fire almost simultaneously to hit both men without one or the other escaping. Ten minutes crawled by, then Quinn saw both men emerge, making their way slowly toward the coop. Since Quinn was to the left of Bart, he’d take the man on the left. He lined up his sights.

  He would use a three-shot burst, he was close enough to make the shot, but in the dark, that w
as tricky. He heard Bart whisper, “three, two, one, fire.”

  Both men sent rounds to the intruders and both fell. The men screamed in agony and Quinn and Bart ran over, their bodies crouched down. They had no way of knowing if there were others.

  Quinn pulled out his flashlight and shown it in the man’s face. He saw that the man had a shotgun and pulled it away from his hands. The other man had a .38 and Bart took that weapon.

  “Who else is with you?” Quinn barked, grabbing the man’s grimy collar. He stunk like an outhouse and Quinn had to swallow to keep his gorge down. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with greasy dark hair, matted down.

  “No..nobody. Why did you shoot us?” The man cried, clutching his belly.

  “We didn’t mean no harm.” The other man moaned, he’d been hit in the gut and the hip.

  “Bullshit, you have guns and you’re creeping in at night. Who else is with you?” Bart demanded, grabbing the man’s thigh, causing the injured man to scream in a high-pitched howl.

  “Nobody. Just me and him. Help us, Christ, help us.” The second man cried.

  “Where are you coming from?” Quinn asked.

  “From Kingswood, to the south. We been moving north.” The first man grunted; he was starting to fade.

  “How have you been surviving?” Quinn asked and had to shake the man; he was dying.

  “W…we hole up. T…then m..m.move on.” He stuttered, and Quinn could see bloody foam bubbling forth from his mouth.

  “What did you do to those whose homes you took over?” Bart asked the second man, the first man’s eyes now vacant with death.

  “Nothin.” The second man said, belligerently.

  “Bullshit, what did you do?” Bart asked, his voice now nasty and he squeezed the man’s leg viciously, eliciting another scream. Bart kept pressure on the wound and the man thrashed around screaming.

  “We killed them, we killed them. Okay? Jesus, stop.” He cried, weeping now, once Bart let go.