AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I have no idea who organizes the network, but as far as I can tell, it’s well-intentioned and provides real assistance. So I regularly check the closest drop spot, responding to any request for help we’re capable of providing (usually donating eggs and vegetables and occasionally sending Jackson out to get someone’s vehicle working again). Only twice have I asked for help. Both times for medications we haven’t been able to find ourselves.
The drop spot is only five miles away from New Haven, so we never waste gas on the run. Ham and I make pretty good time on the walk, and he keeps me entertained with friendly commentary the whole way.
Most people have closed down in the past five years, pulling into themselves emotionally and only selectively opening up to others. The world fell apart. Billions died and continue to die every day. Governments collapsed. Everything we used to rely on for safety and stability disappeared in less than a year. It’s hardly a surprise that most of us aren’t willing to take a risk on other people since we’ve seen graphically and painfully what humans are willing to do to other human beings when they feel desperate and social boundaries disappear.
But Ham isn’t like that. His parents were killed in horrible ways by a gang of thugs while he was hiding in a storage cabinet in the diner where we found him, but it didn’t destroy his faith in other people. He likes me and trusts me and wants to get to know me without throwing up inner walls to protect himself, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve hung out with someone like that.
So I’m in a pretty good mood when we approach the drop spot in an old quick shop that’s mostly just rubble now. I hurry over to a toppled beverage cooler and get Ham to help me lift it up so I can check for anything inside.
There’s a package. My heartbeat accelerates as I tear it open.
A pill bottle and a note.
I look at the bottle first, and my heart sinks as I realized they’re not antibiotics.
Tylenol. It’s helpful. We’re almost out. But it’s not what we need.
The note is apologetic, explaining how they checked all their normal sources, but there are no antibiotics available. The note writer does include a roughly sketched map to a handful of towns farther east in Kentucky where there hasn’t been much scavenging. There might be abandoned pharmacies that haven’t been completely cleaned out if we can manage to travel that far.
It’s not good news, but it’s not nothing. Ham and I talk about how long it might take us to get up to that part of Kentucky. When I was a kid, it would only have been a drive of a few hours, but nothing is that easy anymore. The roadways still exist, but they’ve been five years without maintenance, so they tend to be an obstacle course.
Plus roads are dangerous. There used to be droves. Violent mobs—sometimes thousands strong—who’d travel around pillaging and killing or kidnapping anyone they encountered. They’ve mostly broken up in the past year as the resources they used to gobble up have been depleted, but there are still gangs of hostiles and thieves and even normal people desperate enough to attack others to get food or supplies. The bigger the road the more dangerous, so it’s safest to travel off-road or stick to out-of-the-way country routes.
But we could probably get to that region in a day, which would mean only one overnight. It’s doable. If we can find an abandoned pharmacy with some remaining supplies, we can stock up on other medication as well as antibiotics.
And we can save Molly’s life.
These reflections, along with Ham’s optimism, are helping me shake off my disappointment. The sun is getting lower in the sky, but we’ll easily get back before dark. Then all I have to do is convince Jackson that the trip is worth the risk.
We’re a couple of miles from home and haven’t yet turned onto the dirt road that leads to the farm when both Ham and I hear the sound of an engine at the same time. He aims his rifle toward the noise while I slide my pistol out of my holster. We both move off the road.
The safest response to the presence of another traveler is to get out of sight until they’re gone. This time they’re coming on too fast, so we haven’t reached the trees when a rough-looking man on a motorcycle roars up.
When he slows down, I know we’re in trouble. We obviously don’t need help, so the only reason for someone to stop is to steal from us or hurt us. I catch a glimpse of a familiar tattoo on his neck.
“Well, well,” the man drawls in a voice I recognize from years of dealing with mean, selfish men who no longer have societal restraints on their behavior. “Aren’t you a pretty little thi—”
I shoot him in the shoulder.
This man is part of a Wolf Pack—the tattoo on his neck is a wolf—so a warning shot would do no good. I don’t hesitate, but I intentionally make it an incapacitating wound instead of a kill shot. The man lets out a startled, outraged exclamation and falls to the side, the motorcycle landing on top of him.
Ham goes to take the man’s weapons—he’s got a shotgun and a couple of knives—while I use my own knife to slash the tires of his motorcycle.
He won’t be able to follow us even if he was in a fit state to do so. He’ll have no idea where we’re from, and we’ll be well out of sight before he can get his ass up.
Satisfied that the situation is resolved, I gesture for Ham to get moving again. We walk quickly. It’s not dark yet, but the horizon is bleeding into a dirty orange color.
I can tell from Ham’s expression that he’s worried and upset, and it’s proven when he finally says, “Jack is gonna kick me out.”
“No, he’s not. You did fine. We took care of it.”
“But you shot him. I should have done it. I didn’t see the tattoo until too late. I shouldn’t have let him get close enough to say anything.”
This is probably true. Ham needs to learn how to quickly discern possible threats and act on them. Jackson would have shot the guy off his bike before he could have gotten a word out. But still... Ham is only seventeen. He’s still learning.
“This morning was my warning,” Ham continues. “You know Jack only gives us one. Then we’re out.”
“But you didn’t fuck up here. We handled it without any problems. I’m sure you’ll hear it from Jackson for not moving quick enough, but he’s not going to kick you out.”
