Chapter 4: Can I Come In?
"I know that most people would rather face the light of a real enemy than the darkness of their imagined fears."
-Max Brooks (World War Z)
That night while the guys played cards at a table across the room Rick just laid in bed. He knew he should sleep, he wanted to so badly. His head was spinning though and he couldn't quiet that voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should be out there looking for his family. Even worse was the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he may never find them.
He has a moment of panic at that thought and sits up holding his head in his hands. How can these guys just sit there playing cards like everything is fine? They've had more time to adjust to things he supposes. They were all just a little to comfortable with the status quo for Rick's liking. Most of them were young. They referred to the outbreak as 'the war'. They even kept a tally of how many kills they had. As if it was a video game or something.
Of course no one was more apathetic than the doctor. Something she had clearly practiced at. Killer had come around to eat dinner earlier but quietly disappeared during a heated debate about whether or not they should go to the city tomorrow. Either she didn't fit in with the others or chose not to. The chance of heading out to there again was more interesting at the moment though. It would take his mind off other things.
Rick makes his way over to the table and pulls up a chair next to Honda. "How's the game?" he asks. The table is littered with the tabs from soda cans. They made less noise than any of the other things they tried as poker chips. He had to admit it was amusing watching all the harsh whispers and dramatic gestures fly across the table. It was all so carefully orchestrated to keep the noise down.
Just about everything these days had to be modified. So many little things to think of it made Rick wonder how long it took them to come up with this routine. "Ah, it's crap. I suck at poker." He says throwing his cards down on the table silently.
"That's why we call 'em Honda. He's always getting jacked." says a deep baritone voice from across the table. Radar was about the same age as Rick. He never wore sleeves and always had a toothpick in his mouth. Jet snickers at the statement with his big Cheshire grin, again giving Rick the creeps. The others laugh lightly.
Rick thinks about it for a second and asks, "Because Honda's get stolen more than most cars?"
"Pretty much…" Frisco chimes in without looking away from his cards. He is having a stare down with Bubba, trying to call his bluff. Everyone else has folded. A bead of sweat rolls down Bubba's head. He licks his lips nervously and Frisco knows he's got him.
Rick looks around at the group and for the first time gives their names some thought. "What about the rest of ya?"
Honda laughs as if he had been expecting that question for awhile now. "Well, let's see… Popeye and Frisco are pretty straight forward. Jet runs faster than anyone I ever met. The Mad Scientist used to be a line cook. He can mix the most messed up sounding crap we manage to find and make it taste amazing. Bubba… well, he just looks like a Bubba doesn't he? Radar over there can spot a walker a mile away. I dunno if he smells 'em or sees 'em or what but he's always the first to know when one's coming. And of course you're Cowboy 'cause you rode into town on a horse like this was some kind of John Wayne movie or something…"
That gets a chuckle out of everyone including Rick. He would much rather be called by his name but in the grand scheme of things being called Cowboy wasn't so bad. His entrance obviously made an impression. Frisco throws his hands up in success and rakes a pile of tabs towards him. "To the victor go the spoils." he says gloating transparently. Bubba just shakes his head disappointed with the loss.
After a moment Rick smiles and adds, "And Killer?" The laughter stops abruptly. They all avoid eye contact which pique's his interest even more.
"It's how we found her." The Mad Scientist speaks up for the first time. He had a thick New York accent when he spoke and wore a beaded Puerto Rican flag around his neck. Looking up at Rick he finishes, "She had just shot this cat. Put a bullet right in his head. I mean he prolly had it coming but man she don't mess around. Just had this look in her eyes like she didn't care about no one or nothing. Ruthless chica…"
With that Bubba grabs the cards and shuffles them, dealing another hand. Now it made sense that she didn't socialize with the others. She wanted them to be afraid of her. He just wasn't sure why. Rick tries to change the subject, "So… you guys going out tomorrow or something?"
"Come on man, why do I always get the shittiest hand? Next time I'm dealing." Honda growls at no one in particular before answering "Why, you wanna tag along Cowboy?"
Rick leans forward in his seat, "I definitely wanna get out there and do something." He says eagerly.
Radar and Popeye exchange looks before Popeye nods at him. "We're going on a liquor run. You can come… if you think you can keep up." Radar raises an eyebrow at Rick before turning to Bubba, "Hit me."
Now he's more than a little confused. Of all things why put yourself in a life threatening situation for some alcohol. He hadn't even seen anyone drink anything but water since he'd been there. Although he noticed several bottles in the hospital he assumed they were just for sanitization. He was too curious not ask, "Are we throwing a party or something..?"
Again Popeye and Radar have a silent conversation between them. Clearly if there is a leader among the group it's one of them. "We're saving up. Got a big project in the works." Is all he says.
Honda's eyes light up and he asks, "Can I show him? My hand is crap anyway."
Radar nods at him and Honda motions for Rick to follow. The two walk into the kitchen and head back to a dark corner, "Should I be worried?" Rick asks only half joking. His flashlight searches the area with practiced ease.
"Nah, the walk-in just seemed like a good place to put it. In case anything blew up." Honda replies matter-of-factly.
As Honda reaches for the door it occurs to Rick, "The gas still work in here?" referring to the kitchen.
Honda opens the latch and turns around. "Not for awhile now. Usually we make the fire outside and just bring in the hot coals to heat stuff up. We try not to cook outside too much. In case them things can smell it and come looking."
He opens the door and ushers Rick in first. His eyes go wide at the sight before him. It's some kind of big contraption. Copper piping snakes around a big vat. Some pieces open up to nothing, unfinished. It looks like something you would expect to see in a laboratory a hundred years ago. "What… what the hell is that?" Rick asks without even trying to mask the confusion in his voice.
"I like to call her Stella. Course the guys think it's stupid to name it. But whatever, it's basically a still. Plan is to get this bad boy working and collect as much alcohol as we can." Honda beams with pride as Rick looks over 'Stella'.
He shakes his head in amazement. "What are you gonna do with it, make moonshine or something?" Rick asks, still unclear what the whole thing is supposed to do.
Honda laughs, "No dumb ass, we're gonna turn the alcohol into fuel. To run the cars? Gas is getting pretty hard to come by and the further outta town we have to go to find it the more we end up wasting."
"Who the hell came up with this?" Rick asks. It sounds pretty far fetched to him but if it works… damn would that be something.
Honda points to the inside of the door. Rick shines his light on what appears to be crude blueprints taped up on it. "Killer came up with it. Found some books in the library and stuff I guess. I don't really understand how it works but no one else had a better idea so…" he trails off.
Rick goes back to the still and looks at it more closely this time, "Is this welded?"
"Yup, we got some car batteries hooked up for power and Bubba did the rest. He was a mechanic before, did a lot of body work." Honda replies. Whether or not the thing actually works is one thing. That it gives everyone a sense of purpose and pride in themselves though is pretty clear.
Satisfied with his once over the two head out of the walk in. "Where exactly IS she?" Ricks changes the subject again. He has so many questions he wanted to ask her. About the still and the guy she supposedly murdered. Radar and Popeye were clearly the defacto leaders but Killer was definitely the brains of this operation.
"Who, Killer? She's in her room I guess." Honda answers suspiciously.
Rick stops before they make it out into the main room, "I thought no one was supposed to go anywhere alone?"
Honda shrugs, "She doesn't like to hang with us guys. She can be kind of a downer anyway so nobody says anything." Sensing Rick was wondering why they bother keep her around at all he adds, "Money, it ain't worth nothing anymore. But skills? Skills are worth something and she's got plenty of those."
He thinks about it and wonders aloud, "So what does she get out of it?"
"I don't; care how badass you are. No one can make it out there on there own forever…" Honda says as he heads out of the kitchen and back to the game.
Rick follows not too long after but heads for the door instead of the table. "Hey, where ya goin buddy?" Jet calls out to him.
Rick stops before leaving the room, "Gonna go ask the Doc about that still."
Jet stands up and everyone looks at him with panic in their eyes, "You sure you wanna do that? She doesn't like visitors…"
"I think I can handle it." He says before turning the corner. He hears the faint sound of laughter as he heads down the dark hallway.
When he reaches the door he hesitates before knocking quietly. There's no response so he knocks a little louder this time. Suddenly the door flies open, "Jesus, are you trying to wake the dead? What the hell do…" Killer stops mid-sentence when she sees its Rick standing there at her door.
He looks almost defeated and doesn't say anything right away. She looks at him expectantly and he finally confesses, "I need… your help. Can I come in?"