Cannibal Country (Book 1): The Land Darkened Read online

  Wyatt dared turn his gaze from the floor to the others. “They’ll never come up here in the winter. They’d wait until spring at the soonest.”

  Trooper nodded. “That’s what I’d expect too. And you know damn well I can handle anything that comes my way.”

  Barbara shook her head. “No. There’s nothing for us here anymore. Not even safety.”

  “That’s not true,” Wyatt said.

  ”Wyatt, when’s the last time you shot a deer? Or anything for that matter?”

  Wyatt didn’t answer.

  “Sure, we’ve got canned goods but even those are turning. The other week I had to throw out an entire case of beans because the cans were rusting. And do you remember how cold it got last winter?”

  None of the men answered because they all knew. Trooper had stayed wrapped in three blankets for the near entirety of January and still felt frozen stiff.

  “All we’re doing here is delaying the inevitable.”

  “What are you saying, Mom?” Wyatt asked.

  “We need to leave. And we’re going today.”

  Chapter Seven

  Barbara knelt on the floor before her closet and stared at the clothing, the shoes, the handbags, almost all of which she’d have to leave behind. Doing so didn’t bother her. They were just things, after all. Material goods which had ceased to have any actual value. But the juxtaposition between her life before the attacks to her life now was sometimes so jarring she wondered if this was all some fever dream from which she would eventually wake.

  She passed up the few designer items, a pair of Louboutin heels, a Givenchy handbag, she’s saved up for months to purchase, instead being practical. She grabbed a few pairs of jeans, some heavy sweaters, gloves, and didn’t bother folding any of it before cramming it into her oversized backpack. It was only half-full, but she needed to save room for supplies so she zipped it shut and left the room, and her old life, behind for good.

  She found Wyatt in the kitchen where he used a spoon to eat cold creamed corn straight from a can. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he was on the verge of crying.

  “You’re really doing it?” He asked.

  “Of course.” She grabbed the spoon from his hand and helped herself to a mouthful of the corn. It was tasteless, just like almost all the canned goods these days. Even the food which hadn’t turned had lost its flavor. It all tasted the same. Like nothing. She handed the spoon back to her son who wouldn’t look her in the eyes - or eye, as the case may be now. “It’s too dangerous here. So we’re going south like everyone else did three years ago.”

  “Everyone else is probably dead. That’s why no one ever came back.”

  She’d considered this. It was certainly possible, maybe even likely, but this house, her home, was spoiled now. She couldn’t stay here another day let alone another season.

  “Maybe. Or maybe they found some place worth staying.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Someone would have come back for us. The Jacoby’s, the Russell’s. They wouldn’t all just leave us here alone if there was some safe haven waiting.”

  Barbara didn’t have an answer for that and busied herself with transferring cans of food from the pantry to her backpack. She heard the legs of Wyatt’s chair scrape across the floor and his footsteps as he moved to her.

  “Where will we go?” He asked.

  She turned to him and saw it wasn’t just confusion on his face, but pain. She took his face in her hands. He hadn’t shaved that morning and rough stubble pricked her palms and she had to remind herself yet again that this was a man, not a boy.

  And he needed to be told the truth. “As far south as our feet will take us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember those French-Canadians that came through town about two years ago?”

  Wyatt couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Henri and Francois. Sort of hard to forget. What did they keep asking us about? Poutine?”

  Barb surprised herself by still being able to laugh. “Yeah. That was it.”

  “What about them?”

  “The big one, the one with the glasses--”

  “Henri.”

  “Yeah. He was a scientist. He said the bombs and fallout might not have affected land south of the equator. Something about the air streams or currents or something.” She tried to put on her most optimistic expression. “Wyatt, he said there might still be sunlight there. Plants and animals and life.”

  “He also said that it was only a theory. And his backup plan was to commandeer a submarine and live underwater for the rest of his life. Remember?”

  Barbara shrugged. Truth be told she doubted there was some magical part of the planet where life went on as usual. But she also knew that staying here would only end in death and whether it was from starvation or bastards like the night prior meant no difference. Dead was dead.

  “It’s a chance. That’s more than we have now, Wyatt. I know this is your home. That you think we are safe here. But it’s a prison and you’ve been inside it for too long to know anything else. It’s my fault for letting us stay so long. And I will not let you rot here.”

  She thought, from his expression, that she was getting through. “I want to do more than just survive. Don’t you?”

  “What about Seth? How is he going to make it all the way down there?”

  “Rolling like the wind, brother.” Both turned to find Seth sitting in his chair at the edge of the kitchen. He had a full pack on his lap. “I haven’t been working on these guns for nothing.” He flexed, revealing the lean, ropey muscles in his upper arms. “And when I need a break, you can push my crippled ass.”

  “How long have you been snooping?” Wyatt asked.

  “Long enough to hear your dramatic theatrics. Man, you two could be on a soap opera.” He pushed himself closer to them and intentionally bumped his chair into Wyatt’s shin. “So you think I’m going to slow down the wagon train?”

  Wyatt’s face flushed crimson. “No… I… It’s not…”

  Seth rolled his eyes. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s like that old joke. How fast do you have to run to outrun a moose?” He paused a beat. “Faster than the slowest guy!”

  Seth cackled at his joke. Barbara didn’t see the humor but was relieved the tension had been deflated. And that maybe they could get on with this.

  “Actually, I think the wheelchair will be an asset,” Barbara said. “It’ll allow us to carry so much more. Food, jugs of water.”

  “Sounds like I’ll be doubling as favorite son and pack mule. That works.” Seth’s grin faded, and he turned serious. “But you guys have to make me a promise. If things get bad, like, really bad and I’m slowing you down, you need to leave me behind.”

  Barbara inhaled sharply. Just the thought made her want to abandon this whole plan. “Seth!”

  Seth held up his palm, silencing her. “I’m not going to be an anchor that gets my family killed. Those are my terms.”

  Barbara looked at her son, at both of them. “You can’t ask that of me.”

  “Then I won’t go.”

  Barbara knew trying to win an argument with Seth was pointless. He was as bull-headed as her husband. Maybe more. She swallowed hard. “Okay.” She told herself it wouldn’t come to it but knew that, if it did, she’d end up a liar.

  Seth looked to his brother who only nodded. “Good, then we’re on the same page. When does this road trip kick-off?”

  “As soon as we convince one more to come along. And I’m going to need both of you to help.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Not gonna happen,” Trooper said.

  “You can’t stay here, Trooper,” Barbara said. “How long can you last all alone?”

  Trooper slouched in his recliner, surrounded by supplies in the middle of his living room. The chair still faced the oversized television that hadn’t worked in five years. He’d sometimes considered tossing it out, to ma
ke more room for canned food or beer, but never got around to it. Old habits, and all that.

  He turned from the black screen to Barbara. “Your choice if you want to go. I’m not gonna stop you even though it’s dangerous and most likely won’t end well. But you’re a grown woman capable of making up your own mind just like I’m a grown man capable of making up mine.”

  Barbara shook her head. “A stubborn old man.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Trooper shot back. It wasn’t an insult to him because it was true. He liked being stubborn. Stubborn kept him alive, so why should he change?

  “You really expect us to leave you here?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “After last night? Next time it could be twenty of them all against you.”

  “Maybe. And if they break into this house, they’ll regret it for the rest of their lives, which I guarantee you are apt to be short.”

  He looked up at Barbara, his friend, as she paced through the maze of boxes and bottles that filled the room. Her stress was obvious now that the conversation wasn’t going as she’d hoped.

  “Then I’m staying with you,” Wyatt said. Up until that moment, both he and Seth had let their mother do all the convincing.

  Trooper’s ears perked up to his voice. “Now don’t--”

  “No, I mean it. If you’re staying then so am I.” Wyatt looked to his mother and brother. “You do what you want but I’m not leaving Trooper behind.”

  “Goddammit, Wyatt.” Trooper leaned forward in the chair and his spine popped. He didn’t appreciate this guilt trip. None of this was his fault. People weren’t supposed to base their decisions around him. Just thinking about it pissed him off.

  He raised his voice as he stood. “Don’t be a little shit, you hear me? I got a duffle bag of guns and ammunition by the door for you to take with. Now go with your family and leave me be.” He cocked his chin at the arsenal he’d gathered for them.

  Wyatt closed the distance between them by half. “I can’t leave here knowing that I’d never see you again.”

  Trooper stepped up into Wyatt’s personal space. “I’m an old man. I’ve lived more life than you and your brother combined and doubled. When my time’s up, it’s not gonna be any great loss.”

  He turned his gaze to the dusty mantle above the fireplace. There were a myriad of pictures from his life, his official Maine State Trooper portrait, a photo of him holding an 18-pound bass, but the one that mattered most was in the center.

  It was a picture of him and Mother sitting on the porch of this same house and had been taken nearly a decade before diabetes put her in the ground. He dragged his fingers through a layer of dust he’d allowed to accumulate on the glass.

  A hand touched him on the shoulder and Barbara’s voice reached his ear. “We can’t do this without you, Trooper.”

  Trooper blinked away wetness at his eyes. Damn dust. He’d let the housework go for too long. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. He sighed, not with relief, but resigned.

  “The house hasn’t had a good cleaning in a long while.” He turned to face Barbara. “And I hate cleaning. So I suppose now’s a good time to leave. Let it be someone else’s problem.”

  Wyatt smiled. “You’re coming with us, then?”

  Trooper did a poor mimic of Wyatt’s younger voice. “You coming with us? Like I had a choice. Damn neighbors always up in my business. Don’t know why I didn’t buy myself a place out in the country.”

  Barbara surprised him with a hug. He awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder. He still wasn’t happy about this turn of events but some of the annoyance was fading.

  “It’ll be damn dangerous.”

  “We know that,” Barbara said.

  Trooper suspected they had no idea the kind of hell they were walking into, but it was three against one and he wasn’t about to let them do it alone. “Alright, then I guess we’ll do this.” He strode toward the front door.

  “Don’t you want to pack first, Trooper?” Wyatt asked. “We’ll help.”.

  Trooper opened the door to a small closet, leaned inside, and emerged holding two bags and one small suitcase, all packed to the brim. He dropped them to the floor and unzipped them with something resembling a flourish. One of the large bags was stuffed with food, bandages, and assorted practical supplies like matches, rope, and tarps. The second was filled with guns. Lots of guns. The suitcase contained a few changes of clothing and two pair of boots. “I’m ready.”

  “You were packed?”

  “These are my bug out bags. Always at the ready in case shit goes down and I need to hit the road in a hurry. Just never thought I’d be doing it with you fools.”

  He stepped outside took a deep breath as he surveyed the neighborhood he’d never see again. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to admit, life had been on the boring side lately and he could use one last adventure. “Are you coming, or what?”

  Chapter Nine

  Leaving was the hardest on Wyatt. As he trudged along the street, it seemed every house he passed carried with it a memory. In the big pine tree outside Ricky DeHaven’s house, he spotted the remnants of the treehouse Ricky's dad had built when they were all about nine years old. Now it was only a few weathered planks, but at the time it had been large enough for Wyatt and Ricky and three or four of their best friends to hang out, sleep out, or do whatever the hell they wanted to do. It was only 15 feet off the ground, but when they were nine, they felt like they were a mile high and everything below was little more than an ant colony.

  Wyatt had no idea how many nights they'd spent in that treehouse staring up at the stars or playing cards or gawking at dirty magazines that seemed to show up by osmosis. And just being kids. It seemed like yesterday and forever ago at the same time.

  Everything about the past seemed that way now. He could close his eyes and remember minutiae from his childhood like it happened five minutes ago. Like The Great Wallpaper Debate as they’d grown to call it. That happened when Wyatt was 11 and his parents were remodeling the house. His parents battled between gray-ish blue and blue-ish gray wallpaper for nearly a month before his mother won out. Wyatt smiled at the memory. But that smile faded quickly because their jokes about The Great Wallpaper Debate ended when his father never came home from Boston.

  Everything changed then.

  As they passed Thom’s Burgers, Wyatt tried to push away the bad memories. Thom’s was a throwback to the 1950s diner, white and chrome on the outside with red trim, checkerboard flooring inside. It had been the most popular restaurant in town and hands down the best place to get a hamburger, shake, and fries. The latter of which were cooked in lard instead of vegetable oil and had probably sent more than a few locals to early graves, but they were delicious and worth it.

  Even better than the fries had been a date with Heather Rowling. He’d dropped two quarters into the jukebox and settled on “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Frankie Valli and The 4 Seasons before sidling up next to her. They’d just come from the movies, one of those sappy love stories where the guy was an asshole but the girl redeemed him. It all worked, and he got his first real kiss in the back corner booth. His mouth was cold from the ice cream, but that changed when their tongues met.

  Now the plate-glass windows that opened to the inside were smashed. Random graffiti tags, mostly penises and swastikas, covered the walls. He wondered why people had to be so gross. As if it wasn’t bad enough the world was ending, they had to make everything that had been nice ugly. It was like the attacks hadn’t just destroyed the environment, but had poisoned people’s minds too.

  Wyatt realized he’d been lingering outside the diner too long and glanced ahead. His mother and Seth were fifty yards up the street but Trooper was only half that distance. Wyatt realized the man was waiting on him and resumed his trek.

  When he caught up, the two walked side by side. Trooper’s limp wasn’t bad this morning, or maybe he was just doing a good job at hiding it.
Either way, Wyatt thought determination might be as important, if not more, than physical fitness.

  “I know it’s tough.” Trooper didn’t look at him, just continued forward one step after another. “Leaving it all behind. All your memories. No shame in that.”

  Wyatt’s throat was tight with emotion and he waited for it to pass before speaking. “I feel like I’m losing everything that makes me who I am.”

  Trooper nodded. “Ayuh. I get that. And in a way you are.”

  This wasn’t the motivational speech Wyatt expected or needed and he blinked away tears that fought to burst free. He felt like such a baby. He was supposed to be the man of his family now, the one they could count on, yet he was ready to bawl over… What? Treehouses and root beer floats?

  “What you got to focus on is that everything that is left for you, everything that matters, is forward. It’s with them.” He pointed to Barbara and Seth in front of them. “And me, too, I suppose.”

  Trooper paused, hyper-extending his back so his spine popped. Then he sighed with relief and resumed his pace, and his speech. “This place is just a place, Wyatt. Your memories aren’t staying behind. They’ll be with you no matter where you are. But it’s time to make new ones now. And hopefully better ones.”

  Wyatt wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled. “You know, for a badass old man, you sure do know a lot about feelings.”

  Trooper nodded again. “My mom, she taught me well. That’s why I’m bringing her with me.” He tapped his chest above his heart and they walked on.

  Chapter Ten

  They’d been walking for over a week and hadn’t seen a sign of life. No people, no animals, just the slowly decaying remnants of a dead world. The walk wasn’t bad, Wyatt thought. It was boring, but not physically taxing. In a way, having something to do, even if it was just putting one foot in front of the other, took his mind off everything else. Like his mother’s mangled face.