Chapter 8

No one wants to be the first to concede. Giving up your weapons willingly is kind of like chopping off your own arm. Painful and damn stupid. Not having much of a choice though, we do as the voices order. If we want them to trust us enough to take us with them, we have to yield. They're the ones holding all the cards at the moment.

The flashlights follow our every move as we throw down our weapons and crowd together in the back with Badger. With the truck rolling over the crater-scarred road, we kind of bounce and fall into one another. But shadows sweep in and take our guns and knives as soon as we pull back. Luke starts the conversation flowing, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Thank you again for saving us. My name is Luke. Luke Whitman. And this is my crew. Kelly, Bix...”

“Shut the hell up,” Ass-stick snarls. “We don't fucking care if the Pope is with you. Just because we're letting you stay in the truck doesn't mean we want to talk. Save your gabbing for the farm.”

Luke totally ignores the command and yammers on like he's making comments about the weather. “This is quite a surprise. An actual running truck. I haven't seen a moving vehicle in years. That's amazing. Not to mention how you people have access to fuel that's actually stable enough to use. How is that possible? And who are you?”

“Seriously?” Ass-stick sounds more than a little pissed off now. “Do you people not know the meaning of stop talking? Say one more word, and I swear I will throw you out of this truck myself into a nest of those damn leeches.”

His statement finally shuts Luke up. I guess he's wondering, like me, if the dude's serious or not. Would he be crazy enough to save us only to throw us back to the leeches? Then again, crazy seems to be the norm nowadays. Maybe we should zip it and wait this out. Last thing I want is to be tossed from the truck like Mardi Gras beads.

I guess the rest of my crew feel the same since we continue on in silence. The voices in my head refuse to give up their insistent questioning, however, and I can't stay quiet any longer.

I lean over and whisper urgently at Luke, hoping the roar of the engine will keep our captors from overhearing. “Do you think this is a good idea? What if they're lying to us and they really are ravagers? This whole 'rescue' seems damn suspicious to me. Maybe begging them to take us with them is exactly what they want.”

“Bix is right.” Gordon leans toward us. I can see him now that my eyes have become accustomed to the dark. “Maybe we shouldn't trust them.”

“You don't have any say in this, you little shit-stain,” I huff at him, sticking an angry finger in his chest. “I ought to smack you silly right now. What the hell were you thinking, following us like that? And putting Evie in danger as well. I've seen you do some stupid things, boy, but this? This is by far the stupidest.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you assholes had treated me like one of the team, I wouldn't have had to follow you and we wouldn't be in this predicament,” he whispers back.

“Don't you try to turn this around, Gordo.” It’s an effort to keep my voice down. “Once we get out of this truck, I am so going to whoop your stupid ass.”

“As much as you fuck knuckles amuse me, I think the kid’s stupidity is the least of our worries right now,” Robyn interjects from the other side of Gordon.

I really hate it when someone besides me is right, especially Robyn. I bite my tongue to stop myself from lashing out anymore.

“Calm down, all of you. If they really wanted to harm us, they wouldn't have saved us. I don't think they're ravagers. There's just something about them that doesn't set off any alarms. Besides, Badger doesn't have any other option right now. He needs that wound treated, so like it or not, we need their help. And look, Scruff doesn't appear to have any issues,” Luke says.

He’s right. I can see Scruff's silhouette in the moonlight as he goes back and forth between the two rescuers crouching by the tailgate, getting ear rubs and back scratches galore. He's loving the attention.

“Maybe they're just softening him up for the kill,” I mutter under my breath, but Luke's gentle laugh scoffs at my idea.

“Ye of little faith, Bix.”

“Yeah, well, I haven't seen a whole lot over the years to trust in, I guess.”

He fumbles for my hand in the dark and laces his fingers through mine. “Well, I'm asking you to trust in me, okay? Let’s not overreact. I have a good feeling about this.”

“Fine. But when it’s your leg roasting over a fire pit, I'm still going to tell you I told you so.” I let his laughter wash over me with familiar reassurance.

I have no idea in what direction we're moving. But wherever this farm is, it doesn't seem to be that far. The ride only lasts about an hour, but most of it covers a fair distance on some backwater dirt road. We must finally reach our destination since the truck starts to brake, and we slowly pull to a stop.

Curious, I turn to look over the cab of the truck. The truck’s headlights reveal a rusted metal door blocking the dirt road. It appears to be a monstrosity of a thing, extending far beyond the circumference of the headlights, possibly fifteen feet high or more. The metal is dented and corroded in spots but still exudes a not-to-be-fucked-with vibe. Yeah. There's no way we're getting past Go on this unless the Monopoly gods decree so.

A tiny red light appears in my peripheral, and I turn my head toward it. Before I can ask, the quiet that has accompanied us these last few miles is broken as the radio squawks to life again, scaring the crap out of me.

“We see you. Confirm your identity.” The disembodied voice sounds bored as hell like this is just another day at the office.

“Mark One here,” Ass-stick responds, having apparently taken over the radio. “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod reporting back.”

What the fuck? I snort a little, and a few of my crew join in. That's the password to get in?

“No visual on Mark Two,” the bored voice continues, not finding that response half as entertaining as we do.

“They'll be here. They stayed behind to clean up. We had a bit of a party.”

Mark Two. The ones that we heard on the radio earlier and possibly another truck? Seems we are dealing with a fairly big and organized group here. One that has a fortified compound and running trucks but don’t have a clue about coming up with decent passwords.

“Did you follow the targets?”

The question is followed by a pregnant pause. Targets? Meaning us? Why the hell are we considered targets?

“Yes,” Ass-stick finally answers. “But let Kip know there was a….change of plans.”

“Change of plans? How so?” The voice shows interest for the first time.

“Let’s just say we have a few extra mouths to feed for breakfast.” Ass-stick tries to sound like he's joking, but I can hear the underlying strain in his voice. He knows this Kip isn't going to be happy with the change in plans. Meeting Kip suddenly worries the hell out of me.

“Fuck, Lewis. You made contact? You know that's a big no-no unless Kip authorizes it.”

“Yeah, well, the plan got messed up. It was either bring them with us or leave 'em as fodder for a horde. Plus, we have an injured guy here needing medical attention. Now open the gate and let us in.”

“Nu-uh. I'm not letting anyone in without Kip knowing you have them with you.”

“What the hell? Seriously, Dan? Then go get fucking Kip, already,” Ass-stick snaps with impatience.

“No need to get your panties in a knot, Lewis.” The voice is heavy with undisguised laughter, which only seems to irritate Lewis even more. I decide I like this Dan person. “Tyrone is on his way as we speak to inform Kip. Remember, patience is a virtue.”

Lewis mutters something under his breath, akin to calling Dan a “practitioner of fellatio,” and then broods in irritated silence, awaiting his answer. He doesn't have to wait long.

“Lewis, you still there?” The radio crackles to life again.

“No, I've gone skinny dipping at the beach.” The quick break from Dan has obviously done little to improve Ass-stick's temperament. “Of course I'm still fucking here.”

To my disappointment, Dan doesn't respond with his own smart-alecky remark. Instead, he ignores Lewis's sarcasm. “Opening the gate now. Kip says to bring them straight to the big house. Got it?”

The big house? Despite Luke's reassurance that we have nothing to fear, I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

* * *

The compound we enter must be fairly spacious since we don't reach the big house right away. Turns and corners force us through at a snail’s pace. Everywhere I look there are buildings of some sort. More than I would have thought.

We finally pull to a stop. Our captors file out ahead of us and line the tailgate on either side as Lewis yells at us, “Out.”

One by one we climb out of the truck only to huddle in the dark. Right away we're approached by two guys who appear out of the night with what looks like a stretcher. Without a word to us, they jump into the back of the truck and start loading Badger onto it.

“Where are you taking him?” Luke questions, as they maneuver Badger out of the flatbed. His solid form blocks their path, making them quite aware they’re not going anywhere if he doesn’t like the answer.

“That's our medical facility right there.” Lewis points at the white building on the other side of the truck. “If you want him to be treated, that’s where he needs to go.”

“I'll go with him,” Doc Howarth volunteers. This seems to appease Luke somewhat and he steps out of the way, letting them pass.

Someone from the truck throws my jacket at me before we get herded in the opposite direction. I have to crane my neck to check out the behemoth shadow rising in front of us, blocking the moon and stars that should have been directly overhead. The building is massive and at least three stories. The Dan dude was not exaggerating when he called it the big house.

Cracks of yellow light filter out around the shuttered windows on the first two floors, giving the house a lit jack-o-lantern look. Definitely inhabited, but the shuttered windows tell me that they don't want the light traveling and drawing attention. Pungent odors drift on the slight breeze, reminiscent of the farms on the outskirts of town when I was little. No mistaking the smell of cow shit. But I really can't remember the last time I saw a cow. Do they actually have cows here?

My curiosity about the place overwhelms any fear from earlier and I want so badly to explore where we are, but Lewis has other plans.

“Inside,” he growls at us in the dark, and we're ushered up the wooden stairs.

I count six steps in my head before we reach the massive front porch that runs the length of the house. Lewis doesn't bother to knock on the weathered front door. He doesn't have to. As soon as we hit the porch, the door is yanked open, spilling blinding light and warmth onto us and our captors.

“Welcome, welcome.” Even though I can't see the speaker, the voice that greets us is friendly and cordial. So opposite from Ass-stick’s demeanor that it throws me for a loop. Shielding my eyes against the light, I follow the rest of my crew into the room.

It doesn't take long for my eyes to focus on a massive stone fireplace in the center of the cavernous room. First thing I do is check to see if there are any recognizable body parts roasting above the blazing fire. Nope. Empty. I don't let my guard down any, though.

The fireplace is flanked by a huge wooden table that looks like it could accommodate at least forty people. Chairs of varying size and color surround the table, and a huge vase of sunflowers sits in the middle on a checkered tablecloth.

Thick rugs cover almost every inch of the bare plank floors, adding to the overall warm fuzziness exuding from the room. A couple of threadbare sofas and half a dozen worn recliners situated around a whole wall of books take up the rest of the space. Nothing is new or luxurious, but it looks clean and inviting. Not the way I pictured ravager living quarters. Maybe Luke is right.

“Hello,” the voice interrupts my perusal, and I direct my eyes to its owner.

A towering Valkyrie stares back at us. She has to be six feet tall at least. Piercing blue eyes stare out of a tanned, deeply lined face. Long dark hair peppered with streaks of gray hangs over her shoulders in two waist length braids. The plaid shirt and jeans she’s wearing are snug on her muscular frame, cinched tight at the waist by a thick leather belt. The wide smile on her face belies the shrewdness evident in those eyes. She's sizing us up and on her guard. She doesn't trust us any more than we trust her.

“Welcome to the farm. I'm Kipper O'Hare. You can call me Kip.”

So that's what a Kip looks like.

Unlike us, Scruff doesn't feel the least bit wary since he goes right to the woman and stands up on his back haunches, licking her face like he's just found a sweet treat. Her amused laugh as she scratches his ears eases my worry some. She doesn't sound like she's a threat. Then again if she was planning on roasting us anytime soon, she wouldn't exactly bring that up in casual conversation.

“Please. Come in. Have a seat.” She gently pushes Scruff away as she sweeps her arms toward the monstrosity of a table. She heads towards it, pausing to glance back over her shoulder at us since we remain rooted near the door.

“Is there a problem?” One bushy eyebrow arches in question.

“You want to tell us where the fuck we are and who you people are?” Robyn's snark is nearly as impressive as mine, but all it does is cause Ass-stick to snarl at her.

“We just saved your damned asses from a horde. Show a little more respect,” he says.

“And for that we are extremely grateful,” Luke resumes his usual role and intervenes. “But look at it from our point of view. You did take our weapons and intentionally withheld information. We have no idea who you are or why you saved us in the first place. So you can see why we are a little uptight, yes?”

“Totally understandable. Please forgive Lewis's rudeness and accept our apology.” Kip spreads her big hands wide as if to encompass us all in her acknowledgment. “And please forgive my bad hostess skills. Usually we have food and drinks ready when we know we are expecting guests. Lewis was supposed to follow and observe you. Certainly making contact and bringing you all here was not part of the plan. Lewis, why don't you tell me why you decided to do that?”

Bam! I think Ass-stick just got called out. He disobeyed Kip's plans, and she wants answers.

Lewis fiddles nervously with his rifle. “We didn't have a choice, Kip. We followed them to Lake Haven, just like you told us to. We thought they were settling in for the night, but then the two young idiots following them ran smack dab into a horde and offered themselves up like a cheese platter. They brought them right into town, screaming and hollering with enough noise to raise the dead. That only riled up the leeches in town, and before we could raise a finger to help, these morons had themselves cornered. We had to act fast to get them out. Although you wouldn't know we saved their lives, considering how ungrateful they've been acting.”

“Yeah, well, it's not like you will be getting our vote as the host with the most,” I mutter at him.

He continues on like I didn't say anything. “We tried to dump 'em back on the highway, but they have a wounded guy with them who needs treatment. Polly insisted we help them.” He points to a dark-haired chick who I assume had been our savior earlier. “You always preach to us, Kip, 'Treat others as you wish to be treated yourself,' so I figured if it were us, we'd appreciate some help.”

Preach? I think we just stumbled into something far worse than a compound of ravagers. I think we found ourselves a damned religious cult.

“Why were you watching us?” Luke doesn't sound upset, merely curious, but I can hear the underlying steel in the voice. They just admitted they were following us, and he doesn't like it.

The Kipster must hear it too because she sends him a disarming smile. “We watch everyone that crosses the stretch of highway in front of the farm. Nothing personal. It's what we do to keep our part of the world safe. And not like you folks were trying to cross quietly. Nothing like rousing up a field of bloodsuckers to get the adrenaline flowing, now is there?”

“You people saw that?” I ask. She turns her smile my way.

“It was hard not to. And we saw the wagons of supplies. You people are on a mission. It caught our curiosity. Usually we only see ravagers or groups of survivors wandering aimlessly. Maybe a bunch of the unstable. Those that are too unaware to even care about us being here. But you. You were different. So I asked my guys to follow you, see what you were up to. And a good thing, too. According to Lewis, they saved your lives. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it salvaged your necks. Now, why don't you tell us what you are up to? Where are you going? What has brought you out this way? There's nothing out here besides farmland and leeches. Did you come from the city?”

“Why don't we make a deal,” Luke says, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels. “We give an answer, you give an answer. Fair enough?”

Kip nods and gestures to the table again, inviting us to sit. Luke goes first, accepting the offer. The rest of us follow. Ass-stick Lewis and Polly bring up the rear.

The old woman folds her hands on the table and smiles at us all. “There. Isn't this more comfortable? Now since you are all my guests, you go first. Ask away. We have nothing to hide.”

“Where are we?” Robyn doesn't even wait for Kip to stop talking before the question erupts.

The old woman looks surprised. “I thought we already established that. O'Hare Farm. My family home. It's been in our family for generations. A little more fortified now than it was back in my daddy's day but basically pretty much the same. Wish my daddy was still around, so I could thank him for being an end of the world, prepper fanatic and apologize for thinking he was more than a tad crazy. Little did we know the world was going to go to hell, right?” She laughs at her own joke, her eyes shining bright from the light hanging above her head. I start to get the feeling that her daddy has passed on more than his fair share of the crazy gene. Getting herself back under control, she continues, “Over the years, my family here has grown. Neighbors, townsfolk, people we've picked up along the way. We try to help and provide a safe haven for as many as we can.”

“Why?” I interrupt. “Why you helping people? People you don't know?”

She smiles again and spreads her big hands. “Rebuilding mankind has to start somewhere, yes? If we only looked out for ourselves and refused to help others, then the intruders have already won.” She doesn't expand on the explanation. I guess in her eyes it is a totally credible answer. “Last count we had just over four hundred people here, and fifteen new babies born in the last couple of years. Isn't that exciting? The little ones are our future, are they not?” She laughs again. “Sorry. I tend to get a little excited when talking about the children. Never had any of my own, you see. So everyone here is like my child. I'm kind of like God in my own little Garden of Eden. But enough about me. It's my turn for a question. Where are you fine folk from and where are you on your way to?” She barks out a laugh that nearly makes me jump from my chair. “Oh dear. That’s two questions now, isn’t it? And now that’s three. Hahaha, oh my. Yes. Well. So?”

Luke glances around the table at us all. I know exactly what he's thinking. How much of the truth does he tell her? She just likened herself to God and pissed her pants at her own lame joke. She's crazier than a shithouse rat. Should we tell her anything at all?

“We come from a settlement based in the city. A group of survivors like you. We number in the hundreds as well. Though, if we're being honest, obviously nowhere as near advanced. How do you have running vehicles and useable fuel?” He keeps his answer vague, turning the attention back to them.

“Ah, the trucks? Now that, that is something you'll have to discuss with Nat. Something about diesel, stabilizers and dry storage. I'm afraid that's as much as I get out of my conversations with him. He is the wonderful wizard behind the curtain here. He keeps everything running smoothly.”

Nat? As in Nat's Garage? Obviously, the small-town mechanic is a jack of all trades.

“So you are from the city. We were under the impression only the cannibals and the crazies lived there now.” She offsets her statement with a wide smile.

Well not all the crazies. Some lived on farms, apparently.

“And where are you going to? Must be somewhere important if you're taking the chance of traveling the open highways. Not the smartest idea now is it.”

“Neither is getting into trucks with strangers, yet here we are.” I can't help but feel a bit slighted as Luke and Kip both ignore my sarcastic zinger.

“We're on our way to Ottawa.”

The old woman raises her brows in surprise. “Ottawa? That's quite the travel. What's in Ottawa that would have you all risking such a perilous trip?”

Luke averts his eyes my way again. Should we tell them about the research center? We really don't know anything about these people. As if Kip understands the look, she tries to reassure us.

“Please. Believe me, you can trust us. We don't want anything from you. We have more than enough of our own supplies and weapons. We don't want yours. We're just curious is all.”

Doc Roger seems to sense Luke's reluctance. “There's no harm in telling them. Our enemy is their enemy as well.”

“True enough.” Luke sighs. “Okay. We're on our way to a research facility. We have a couple of doctors with us who have vital information about the alien parasites. They need to join forces with the doctors at the research facility. We're hoping that by doing so, they will be that much closer to finding a way to eradicate the parasite and the threat of newly infected.”

Kip's eyes narrow at Luke's words, and her face grows serious. “Please tell me I heard you wrong. Newly infected?”

“You heard me right.”

“I wasn't even aware that was a possibility.”

“We've seen it. It's real all right,” Luke replies.

“Jesus,” Kip breathes as she pushes herself back on her chair. “As if the mutations aren't threat enough.”

My eyes swivel to Luke in surprise before averting back to the old lady. “You know about the hybrids?”

“Yes. We've been told about this new species of leech. Hybrid, if you will,” Kip almost whispers the words, as if speaking aloud will cause them to appear.

“Have you seen the mutations?” I ask.

Kip shakes her head in my direction. “No, thank God. We have not. But...,” she trails off and takes a deep breath before continuing. “About three weeks ago, we found a small group of people wandering the roads about twenty-five miles past Lake Haven. They were malnourished, dehydrated...totally incoherent. We at first thought they were...ill. We made the decision to overlook them. We offer safety and sustenance to everyone, but I will not jeopardize the safety of my family by knowingly bringing in sickness and something seemed off with them. But then I saw they had a child. And well, what can I say? I'm a sucker for the little ones. So we brought them in. At first, they wouldn't tell us anything. But after a week or so they finally opened up. They told us stories about these monsters. Mutations, as you call them. I was hoping it wasn't true. That their feverish minds had made it all up.” She stares at us with fear filled eyes. “I guess I'm wrong?”

“They spoke the truth,” Luke bluntly confirms her fears. “Where did this group come from? Where did they encounter the hybrids?”

“That I can't tell you. These people could barely remember their own names. They were disoriented. Confused. They seemed unable to remember much about what had happened to them. It truly must have been horrendous to cause such a case of group amnesia. So I didn't press them. I don't judge people; I just try to help.”

Group amnesia? That sounds like a crock of buttered shit. Like something from some cheesy mystery novel than a real-life thing. And Kip fell for that?

So I can't help but ask, “Don't you find that a little convenient? Group amnesia?”

She regards me with her manic eyes for so long, I start to fidget under her stare. “I'm sure every being alive on this planet right now has things from the past they'd rather not remember. Who am I to ask them to dredge up their horrible memories? As long as you work hard and contribute, keep your nose clean, and don't cause any harm to your fellow man, then you may stay. The same invitation extends to you lot as well.” Then she smiles and looks away, breaking the crazy vibe. “But that all can be discussed in the morning, yes? It's very late, and it's been a long night for us all. We certainly have a lot to digest, and any more talk of this unpleasantness will only guarantee nightmares. Besides, I find we always do our best thinking after a good night’s sleep. We have a bunkhouse you can all clean up in and stay for tonight. Forgive me, but we will hold onto your weapons for the moment. You will be heavily guarded as a precaution, but the bunks are as comfortable as a cloud. I'm sure you will sleep well. Tomorrow, we will finish this conversation.”