Later that night a second meeting was held and the priorities for recovery and survival were set. Because if the nature of our crisis and the need for continued focus on survival and expansion of the human race all efforts were to be made to rescue anyone not bitten during all future mission. It was also agreed that eventually we would make it a concerted effort to find other pockets of survivors and bring them back to our community but we would have to focus on the preservation of our people first and foremost.
The first mission from the farmhouse was set for the following morning. Sanchez had volunteered to go and had asked a few trusted men to go with him. Eric was among them. The Hispanic officer had come to him later in the evening as the dark curtain of night was falling around the farmhouse and the trees took up their silent ominous vigil.
“I’d like you to come tomorrow.” Sanchez approached Eric and stood to the man’s right looking out into the darkening world under the branches of the pine trees. There was danger under the trees. The living and the dead were equally dangerous now. Eric was confident that most men and woman would still be reasonable, still be mostly human but he knew some would see this as their chance to become the monsters of the lesser natures. He hoped it would be a long time before they ran into any of those people.
“I’ll go.” Eric wasn’t much for talking tonight. A part of him was gone, left behind in the ruins of Spokane, a piece of his humanity that he would likely never find again. “I’ll do anything to make sure we make it.”
“Good,” Sanchez said equally curtly. He was a wise man and knew that pushing people like Eric beyond their limits in these tense moments wouldn’t help anyone. “We are going back to Rearden. Most of the people left this morning. A few stayed behind but the few people I have talked to say that the people they know who stayed probably retreated to their houses and farms. They don’t seem to think we are going to run into too many zombies when we get to town.”
“That’s good. Did you manage to get any more ammo from the Rearden guys?” It was a tense question to ask. Since they had arrived a few of the better armed guys from Rearden had been hording the bullets they had brought to the farmhouse. It was a strange thing to see. Eric knew that without Sanchez’s warning call confirming what the people from Rearden were seeing on their TVs then they probably wouldn’t have left. If they hadn’t left they wouldn’t have survived and they wouldn’t have found the farmhouse. Now that they were here they seemed more suspicious of the people who had stuck their necks out to help them.
“They are turning over most of it, though I’m sure they are going to horde a private supply for some time to come.” Sanchez scanned the front yard of the farm house. There were over thirty vehicles crammed into the dirt driveway that had been cleared in front of the house. Most were old beat up farm trucks, but occasionally an SUV reared its giant bulky head out of the crowd. A few guys were standing on truck beds with shotguns and rifles in their hands keeping a watch out for the undead. “I want to take a lot of those guys with us tomorrow.”
“Why?” the skepticism was thick in Eric’s voice as he asked the question. He didn’t think it had anything to do with trusting the men from Rearden; he just didn’t like people acting like they were somehow separate then the other people around them. This was a conflict of a national scale, the news reports that the Rearden survivors had shared confirmed that but Eric had seen plenty of zombie movies in his near thirty years of life. It was always a global crisis. And with fewer than a hundred people taking shelter at the farmhouse there was no room for us and them mentality. Eric’s question was still hanging out there in the crisp night air.
The single word was hanging out there for another few minutes before Sanchez spoke in a hushed whisper Eric could barely hear from three feet away, “I think if they see what we’ve seen, if they have to fight and rely on us to keep them safe we can put a quick end to this feeling of division between them and us.” Sanchez turned his face to Eric setting his gentle brown eyes on the younger man.
Turning his head from long gaze of the blankness under the trees Eric met Sanchez’s eyes. “That’s a good plan. You don’t mind manipulating them like that? Taking them into the heart of danger and forcing them to bond with us or die trying to stand alone?”
Sanchez didn’t hesitate to answer, “Sometimes fear is the only tool you’ve got to fix a problem.”
“Dangerous game but if it works then so much the better.” Eric let the small tickle of a smile play at the corners of his mouth. He liked Sanchez more and more. The guy was a smart and cunning leader. Some would balk at the idea of using fear to forge people into a cohesive unit but that didn’t seem to bother Sanchez a bit. Because he was a smart guy he knew that without being a united community they were more likely to die at each others’ hands than at the hands of the zombies.
“Go get some sleep kid. You and me have to be ready for tomorrow.’ With that the Hispanic officer turned on his heel and walked back into the farmhouse. Eric watched the group of men posted as the first rotation of guards hunker down against the cabs of their trucks and stare out into the gloom. He’d trust these men but it was hard to when you’d never spilt blood with them. He pulled his eyes away from the four guards and Eric followed Sanchez into the house and the waiting embrace of the soft leather couch.
The sun was just stretching the fingers of its first rays over the horizon. The thick needle covered branches of the pine trees keep most of the light back holding the brilliant glow trapped like fish in a net. Eric was seated in one of the large wingback chairs watching the sun fight through the trees through a small window set between two large bookcases in the living room. He was sipping at a cup of coffee, the first he had had since two nights ago. The first coffee he’d had since the rise of the zombies. He should have been struggling through a caffeine headache yesterday but the adrenaline just plowed roughshod right over it.
Eric didn’t know how much longer they’d have coffee so he savored the dark aromatic liquid. The scorching heat of the coffee seeped through the ceramic cup and warmed his hands. It was still early May and there was still a cold bite to the mornings.
Eric heard heavy boots behind him. He turned expecting to see Sanchez coming to find Eric as he gathered up the troops but it was Kirk standing a few feet behind the back of the chair. “You mind if we talk?” Kirk asked.
“Come on over,” Eric waved the younger officer towards a second wingback chair that sat empty next to Eric. Kirk seated himself into the chair slowly like an arthritic senior citizen. “Long night,” Eric asked.
Kirk closed his eyes for a minute. He took two deep breathes and then slowly opened his eyes again. It looked like it was taking a lot of effort. “God damn truck beds are hard as hell. And then the cold, it’s like I’m being slowly frozen through out there on guard duty.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to figure something else out. I if I have to spend more than a few more rotations out there sitting in one of those truck beds I’m going to die.” It was its own form of torture to be stuck out on guard duty freezing in the middle of the night while you sat against the window of the truck cab and stared into the dark nothing. “Besides I’m so stiff and cold that if anything did wander up on us I’m not entirely sure I’d be able to get up and shot it before it was inside the perimeter.”
“I have a feeling the first time you see one of those things wandering towards the house there isn’t any amount of cold stiff muscles to stop you from moving like lightning.” Kirk looked Eric in the eye with an icy stare and then his hard gaze fell on the steaming cup cradled in Eric’s hands. “Is that fresh coffee?”
Eric took a look at the black liquid in his cup and then handed it over to Kirk. The officer stared at the cup in wonder for a few seconds like he’d find the meaning of life at the bottom of its dark pool. Kirk raised the cup to his lips and took two greedy gulps of coffee before handing the cup back to Eric. The cup was half empty by now and in a normal situation Eric might have made some mean spirited remake but someday there wouldn’t be any coffee and he owed Kirk his life as much as he owed it to Sanchez.
“I never thought I’d miss the motor oil thick nasty crap they served at the station but good god what I’d give for an endless supply of that sludge now.”
“Sounds about as good as the crap they bought us at the hospital,” Eric said through a wistful smile. Just like the weather there were few things universally bitched about by people from one corner of the world to the other, coffee was one of them.
“Yeah Eric I wanted to ask you a special favor.” Kirk looked towards the door leading into a back office space and then back towards the front of the house before he leaned in close to Eric as if they were discussing a coup. His eyes still nervously scanning the area around them Kirk spoke in barely a whisper. Eric was forced to stain to hear the man’s words less than six inches away. “You keep an eye on Sanchez, he’s special. He’s saved my life more than once and I don’t think anyone but him could have done what he’s managed in the last few days. I don’t care about those other guys going into town with you. They can all die for all I care as long as Sanchez comes back alive. Can you make sure he makes it back?”
Kirk’s words threw Eric back against the back of the chair with the force of their conviction. Kirk really wouldn’t shed a tear if the other men going with them didn’t come back as long as Sanchez did. Eric didn’t think it was malicious just a statement about how much Sanchez was respected and admired by his younger officer. Eric kept his own thoughts from drifting down this path. How could one person weigh the value of another person’s life? He’d make sure everyone came back alive if it could be managed. He wasn’t planning on letting anyone die or leaving them to die. “I’ll make sure he comes back.”
Kirk nodded a few times satisfying himself that Sanchez would be fine, “good. I’d do it myself but he asked me to stay here and manage the guards.” Kirk stood up with a lot more vigor then he had had a few minute earlier when he had sat down. He was passing by Eric on the right heading back towards the front entrance of the house when he stopped at Eric’s elbow, “you mind if I steal one more drink of that?” Kirk pointed with a finger at the coffee growing quickly lukewarm in Eric’s hands.
Eric handed the cup over to the officer who took another generous mouthful of the coffee before handing in back to Eric. There was maybe two mouthfuls left. So much for savoring it Eric thought.
“Thanks again Eric and if you get a chance see if you can find any coffee while you’re out. I’ll drink even the most watered down burnt coffee grounds just for a little taste of the old life.”
“Okay,” Eric looked sadly into the mug again. He raised it to his lips and swallowed the two mouthfuls of coffee that were left in the cup. He was standing up and grabbing his pistol from the end table set to the left of the chair when he heard Sanchez calling out.
“Let’s go folks we’ve got a laundry list of supplies to get and we’re burning daylight.”