Tales of Junction Read online

  Tales of Junction

  Guy Cain

  and

  John L. Davis IV

  Tales of Junction

  Copyright © 2018 by

  John L. Davis IV and Guy Cain

  All Rights Reserved

  Lost in the Wilderness

  Friends

  The Guardian

  Prophet and Loss

  To Be King in the Land of the Dead - Part 1

  The Deal

  Filler Up

  Phillip Before Filler

  To Be King in the Land of the Dead – Part 2

  Ripley, Believe it or Not

  The Guardian’s Love

  To Be King in the Land of the Dead – Part 3

  A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

  To Be King in the Land of the Dead - Part 4

  A New Plan

  Danni’s Deal

  Bites and Scraps

  About the Authors

  Lost in the Wilderness

  Frito was getting hungry. Real hungry. He’d been out for fifteen days and, at this point, he was beginning to dream longingly of Filler’s stew. He’d brought some with him as usual, but it had run out around day five. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he checked the pockets of his camo jacket in hopes of finding one last bag of corn chips but came up empty. Nothing left to do but keep moving. As best as he could figure, there was a river a day’s walk to the south. Once he got there he could set up a few lines and maybe get a couple fish.

  Rarely did the life of a scav get this bad. Most of the time, on these long runs, he’d come across something edible while scavenging, but this run had been a complete bust. Everywhere he went had been picked clean by someone else. The remote farm houses that usually provided a couple jars of canned vegetables were all occupied by small tribes of foul-smelling Sores.

  He wondered if tribe was the correct word to describe them. Maybe herd would be more appropriate given that they weren’t human in the eyes of most people. Genetically they were; but, to be honest, they lived like animals, acted like animals and hunted like animals. No matter how you chose to describe them, they were best avoided. Especially by a lone scav.

  He hadn’t planned to be out this long but it all went awry when he crossed paths with a band of gypsies. These bastards were better organized than most and reasonably well equipped. They had at least four vehicles and easily thirty well-armed men. He’d smelled their fire well in advance and was trying to skirt around the encampment when he was spotted by one of their sentries.

  These guys weren’t messing around. They had tracked Frito for days. Every time he stopped to rest, they would catch up. In the end he had kept moving. No stopping to rest or sleep, moving constantly, leading them further away from Junction until he was finally able to circle around them and start towards home.

  Now, it was just a matter of avoiding the Sores, zombies, dehydration and starvation. Pretty much a normal day in the life of a scav. Still, he was going to need to eat something soon. Hunger lead to poor judgement and poor judgement would get a man killed in this world. Furthermore, if he returned to Junction with nothing to show from this trip, Filler would be unbearable. A couple of dry runs and the fat bastard might cut off even the best scavenger.

  He could see a stormfront moving in from the west. It was going to be an uncomfortable night if he didn’t find some shelter soon. He kept walking knowing that at the very least he was getting closer to Junction and the gypsies were most likely moving further away. As the first drops of rain began to fall he noticed a mail box along the road in the distance. He looked around hoping to find a deserted farm house but could only see a few trees at the end of a driveway. With no other options and the storm nearly upon him, he made for the trees.

  The trees had hidden the burned remains of a home and barn. The basement of the house was nearly full of stagnant water. Pieces of the tin roof of the old barn remained propped up by a rusted tractor skeleton, it’s tires melted away during the fire. Frito figured it would make a passable shelter for the night, and that’s when he noticed the mound of earth. As the rain began to pour down, he pulled on the weathered door of the root cellar, revealing shelves lined with Mason jars.

  The next morning, both his stomach and duffel bag were full. It was rare to get this lucky, but when it happened it was glorious. The jars were heavy but would lighten up as he traveled. Frito figured to eat his fill on the way back to Junction. The up side to being a scav was that you got first choice of everything you found, provided Filler didn’t find out.

  Friends

  Frito and Tool made plans to go scavenging together a few times a year. On a couple occasions, Filler let them rent the old VW Beetle so they could cover some distance. The rent usually amounted to half of their haul, but they didn’t mind. These runs weren’t just about scavenging. It was a chance for the friends to get away from the smell of hogs and unwashed humans, the smells of Junction.

  The VW Beetle was Filler’s pride and joy. He had converted it to run on alcohol after his truck was trashed during his last scavenging run with Bill Robb ages ago. The conversion wasn’t even that difficult. In high school Filler had converted a motor in his automotive class but had never been allowed to test it because the school frowned on distilling alcohol even for the purposes of fuel. Filler knew that the air-cooled motor of the old VW was a perfect candidate and the previous owner was more than happy to part with it, as gas was no longer available.

  Each time they ventured out together, Filler would give them a “wish list.” This time was no exception.

  “When are you taking off?”

  “You know Tool, he wants to leave at night, but if we’re taking the Beetle, I figure we should wait until day-break.”

  “Ok Frito, I’ll have the Beetle ready. Extra fuel and some food under the hood, but I need for you guys to find a few things for me.”

  Frito smiled, “I’d expect no less. Do you have a list?”

  “Still working on it. I’ll leave it on the driver’s seat. You’ll be responsible for it, since your buddy doesn’t know how to read.”

  “Easy, Filler. You can’t talk like that about my boy. Tool’s a good scav and he’s had my back more times than I can count.”

  “Whatever you say, but as far as I’m concerned, this is your run, not his. Don’t let anything happen to my wheels. Filler started to walk away then turned to add, “First on that list is tires for the bug. There’s rope in the car, get as many as you can and tie them to the doors if that’s what it takes.”

  “Sure thing Filler.” Frito was laughing inside. Filler hadn’t been outside the walls in years. He had no idea what it was like. Everything from the old world had value to the citizens of Junction. The problem was that very little remained of that world. There was a reason that the “bowls” they served food in were actually old hub caps. The zombies staggered through the world without regard for anything. The Sores were even worse, smashing anything that would break to make their primitive weapons and traps. Entire towns have been burned to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes and brick shells. Finding tires to fit the Beetle was no small order, but Frito and Tool were the best scavs that Junction had to offer. If anyone could find some, it was them.

  Frito was going through his gear one last time when he heard footsteps outside his shack. There was a light rapping on the makeshift door followed by a feminine voice, “Frito, you home?”

  “That you, Trina? Come on in.”

  “Heard you were leaving in the morning. Wanted to wish you luck.”

  “Thanks, but I’m guessing you are hoping we’ll bring something back for you.” Frito smiled as he spoke. He liked the part-time teacher, part-time prostitute. It was hard
not to like Trina. She treated everyone in Junction to a friendly smile regardless of their standing in the community and it was the kind of smile that made you feel good.

  “That obvious, huh?” Frito felt a glow in his chest that spread throughout his body as she feigned embarrassment and flashed him a demur look before producing a short list.

  “It’s for the school. I can pay you when we have time.”

  Frito nearly blushed at the thought of being paid by the beautiful school teacher before blurting out, “We’ll figure out something.”

  “Thanks, Frito.” Trina suddenly leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before turning to leave and adding, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Trina’s words and that little kiss had him so flustered it was several minutes before Frito could finish the task at hand. His gear now checked and double checked, Frito grabbed the pack and headed over to check on Tool. The two scavs were close. They’d hit it off almost immediately. Tool was a self-proclaimed asshole. Frito, the perpetual nice guy. Like yin and yang, the two seemed to feed off one another’s energy and became an unstoppable force when they were together.

  Tool was just emerging from the short door of his shack as Frito approached.

  “Hey, I was just coming to get you. Let’s throw our stuff in the bug, grab a bite at Filler’s, then head over to Janet’s?”

  Frito shook his head. “Brother, you are getting a bit predictable, but you left out the part where we get drunk.”

  “Knew I was forgetting something. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Tool, you know we are leaving at dawn, right?”

  “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started.”

  Mitch Burton was just taking his place on the gate wall when he heard the VW sputter to life. Mitch knew the sound and had the night guard stick around long enough to open the gate for the duo. Mitch waved and yelled down to them, “How about you bring back some decent liquor this time?” Tool gave a dismissive wave with his free hand, while the other shaded his bloodshot eyes from the rising sun. Mitch had a laugh at Tool’s expense. The scav had over done it the previous night and was now paying the price. Frito had planned on driving the first day as he knew Tool would be in no shape for it and Filler would not be pleased to see Tool behind the wheel of the Bug under any circumstances. Besides, the first day would be nothing more than driving to get as far away from Junction as possible.

  Three days into the run and the scavs were feeling great. Only a few withered undead had crossed their path and not a single sign of sores. They hadn’t found much of value until they stumbled upon a small antique shop in the middle of nowhere with living quarters on the second floor. The place was a gold mine. In no time at all they had made a large pile in the middle of the ground floor, consisting of old files, hand operated drills, three saws, a couple axes, and much more.

  “Hey Frito. All this stuff ain’t gonna fit in the Bug.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing. Have you checked out back to see if there’s a wagon or something we can pull behind?”

  “Yeah. No wagon. No trailer. No car. Not even a garage.”

  “Well then, you got any ideas?”

  “I was thinking we keep piling it up. Spend the night here, then head out tomorrow and see if we can find anything that would work.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me. I really didn’t want to sleep in the car tonight anyway. Let’s finish up down here and see what we can find upstairs”

  The two scavs were pleased with their haul and jammed wooden chairs in front of the doors before heading to the second floor. The studio type living quarters were extravagant by their standards despite the dust covering everything. They checked the cupboards and found several plastic canisters containing various dry goods, sugar, flour, beans, salt and instant tea. A few cans of food were also present, so they decided to forego their usual meal of brown stew. As the sun set the two friends shared stories over cold green beans and creamed corn.

  Morning found them well rested and ready to get back on the road. They moved the food stuffs down to the ground floor with the other goods before heading out. They had gone only a few miles when they came across a long defunct carnival. The rides were falling apart. The chairs dangling precariously from the Ferris wheel creaked in the light breeze. The large trucks that had brought the rides to their final resting place looked as if they might be washed off and driven away, but for the rotted tires.

  The pair brought the old VW to a stop a hundred yards from the carnival, unsure how to proceed.

  “Well Frito, it’s your call. What do we do?”

  “My call? You’re behind the wheel. “

  “Yeah, but Filler put you in charge of this run, remember?”

  “For fuck sake. When have you ever given a shit about anything Filler said?”

  Tool feigned a stunned expression for just a moment, then unable to hold it back any longer, both men burst out in laughter. When they finally caught their breath again, “Guess I can’t argue that one. Let’s sit here for a bit and watch for movement. If we don’t see anything we’ll circle around and try to draw them out.”

  “Them? Are you thinking Sores or zombies?”

  “Honestly, I think the place is too clean for Sores. We’re downwind and could probably smell the stinking things from here. Honestly, man, you gotta wonder how anything living can actually smell worse than zombies. If anything, there’s probably just a few huskers bumping around.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’d hate to run into anything serious in Filler’s baby.”

  “Speaking of his fatness, have we found anything that was on his list?”

  “Nothing really. Besides tires, he wants vegetable seeds.”

  “Seeds? Are you shitting me?”

  “Something to do with genetic diversity for the gardens. All I know is that he and Janet said the same thing.”

  “What about Trina? Have you found anything from her list?” Tool shot a sly grin at his buddy.

  “Ya know, I almost asked how you knew, then I remembered, there are no secrets in Junction.”

  The last words were said in unison by both men.

  “Found a couple children’s books and a notebook back there. We gotta find a way to get all that stuff back.”

  “We’re the best scavs in Junction, maybe in the whole world. Well, I am anyway.” Tool teased his friend.

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re not my type. Besides, Trina would get jealous. Pretty sure she wants you all to herself.”

  “Let’s concentrate on the current problem. We need to figure out a way to get all that stuff back to Junction.”

  “There must be something in there we can use. A trailer of some sort.” Tool nodded towards the rusting carnival. “What say we circle around now? I haven’t seen any movement at all.”

  They slowly made their way around the abandoned carnival weaving through the saplings that had grown up in the field surrounding it. Once they had reached the entrance without coming under attack by either living or undead, they opted to drive up close and park the beetle.

  They carefully picked their way down the midway, making mental notes on locations that may hold items of value, while looking for signs of danger. The carnival looked as if all the patrons and workers had simply vanished. There was no sign that humans had been there in at least a decade. Not even the usual smell of rat feces and urine that Tool and Frito had come to recognize.

  “The trailers in the back, behind the games, are going to be our best bet, you think?” Frito whispered just loud enough to be heard by his fellow scav a few feet away.

  “Yeah. I had hoped we could just use one of those little food wagons, but the damn tires are rotted off everything. “

  “Let’s find something and get out of here. This place is creepy as hell.” Frito glanced about furtively from rusted rides to the fun house and “Tunnel of Love.” He’d seen a lot since the world went to the dead, but this place was th
e worst. Something about the lack of destruction. Not a single broken window or burned out trailer.

  They made their way to a large storage trailer with clowns and laughing children barely discernable on the side. It took a bit of force to get the doors open but Tool managed while Frito kept watch for anything that may be lurking nearby. The trailer was mostly empty, but Tool turned and gave his friend a short whistle and a beckoning nod.

  “What did you find?”

  “Those!” Tool pointed to four dusty red hand carts all parked in a row against the far wall.

  “What the fuck are we gonna do with those? We can’t exactly push them back to Junction.”

  “You’re right about that, but I have a plan my dear boy. Take these and follow me.”

  Frito grabbed the proffered carts as Tool took the remaining two and headed around the front of the trailer.

  “There! There’s our answer.” Tool pointed to a long row of blue, plastic, portable toilets.

  “You’re joking. You must be joking. “

  “We’ll leave the hand carts here for now and go get the beetle. Filler sent plenty of rope along for his fucking tires. We lash the carts to a handicap toilet, the larger one on the end, lay it on its side, and POW! We got us a trailer.”

  “A rolling shit-box! Tool, you’re a mad genius. Let’s get to it.”

  Once back at the bug, Frito turned to his partner, “You probably think I’m paranoid, but I think we are being watched.”

  “You’re not paranoid. I saw movement in the window of that camper-trailer. At first I thought it might just be a rat, but it moved away when I looked directly at it.”

  “Are you fucking with me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Look, we can drive around the outer perimeter, get everything hooked up and be out of here in minutes. Besides, it’s probably just some husker. Stick with me, and you’ll be back in Trina’s arms in no time.”

  “You just aren’t gonna let that go are you.”

  Tool smiled at his friend’s frustration before responding, “Come on, buddy. You know me better than that. When have I ever...” Tool let the sentence trail off as Frito began to laugh loudly.