A/N: My muse fled briefly to Florida for a bacchanalian orgy for Spring Break but came back to me this morning. I know you've missed.
Chapter 32 The Plague
They had made really good time and with the exception of one group of foragers that had run into a better-armed party, there were no incidents worth noting in the convoy's official log that Leslie had begun keeping.
A group led by the 'biggest mouth' of the bus people had stumbled onto a trailer truck that had been abandoned and had sent a rider back to get additional transport to haul away their find: can goods destined for a distribution center that served the Green Bayou area supermarkets.
Wyatt had ridden back with the messenger, hanging onto the back of the small motorcycle that Sheldon had insisted that each RV carry in its trailer for just such a situation.
It took him less than an hour to fuel the tractor and jump-start it from the batteries of the RV. The big rig joined the convoy and Mr. Big Mouth basked in the attention the find generated. In the back of his mind he felt entitled to a voice in the 'council meetings' and confronted Howard, whom he knew from the bus.
He was pissed off beyond belief when Howard told him that 'stumbling over a semi-trailer doesn't mean you're anything more than lucky. Your total experiences, other than selling life insurance, consist of riding in a bus and becoming a slave. Those are hardly qualifications for leadership.'
He stomped back to his assigned RV, fuming. 'No tells Will Montgomery he's not a leader. There are enough of us to take over this circus and head south to safety. All I have to do is find the right people to back my play…'
They laagered for the night outside Port Washington, on the shores of Lake Michigan. They set up in a wooded park just as the old settlers had done when traversing across the continent 150 years earlier when in 'Indian country'.
Their roster totaled 134 souls, mostly younger people who seemed to be able to fight off the plague easier than those older or who had been blessed by a gene pool that made them Natural Immunes. There were none in the group older than 45 except for Penny's parents who were probably Natural Immunes.
Their evening meal was always a communal affair, weather permitting, and tonight the temperature was a balmy 48F and the wind had died down and everyone was enjoying being outside and talking with others.
Will Montgomery had been busy. It was easy to find those who believed the convoy was going in the wrong direction or who felt disenfranchised by the 'leadership team' and wanted a change – with them in charge, of course.
Leslie Winkle had also been busy. She'd overheard the exchange between Howard and Montgomery and had spoken with Bomber.
"They're planning a coup, a hostile takeover, a revolution, a – "
"Leslie, I doubt they'll resort to violence and besides, how many people are idiotic enough to follow a guy who has no plan other than 'regime change'?"
For the next few days Leslie kept a watchful eye on Montgomery and made a list of those he kept close to him. She and Bomber discussed bringing it up at dinner but the weather and the decision to have a bonfire moved events forward faster than anyone had anticipated.
"I say we take them all out and then get this convoy moving south again. It's ridiculous to move any further north…"
"Will, you don't mean," and here the man hesitated, "kill them, do you?" He wanted no part of murder. He'd seen enough barbarism in the last year and wanted nothing to do with it.
"What do you suggest, spanking them and keeping them locked up?" His response was sarcastic and intended to belittle the idea of anything else than total elimination of the 'leadership'.
The group broke up, each going back to their assigned RV and making preparations – all except the one decent individual in the group. Sure, he disliked being told what to do and when to do it but he disliked the idea of bloodshed even more and from what he'd seen in Will Montgomery's eyes, he'd keep eliminating dissent and the dissenters until he had a loyal following.
Everyone carried a pistol at all times. It was Cooper's Rule #3 – Never go anywhere outside the assigned RV without a pistol or other weapon. No one would think it strange if Montgomery and his group were armed. If anyone asked about the rifles and shotguns, he'd just tell them they were going on guard duty after eating.
The park had an outdoor amphitheater that was ringed with picnic tables where people enjoyed band concerts and live performances in better times. The bonfire was ablaze and some of the 14 children under 12 were playing near it under the watchful eye of several adults.
The Core Group was sitting around with the others, enjoying the fire, relaxing conversation and a stew that was good even if some of the ingredients were not easily identified.
Montgomery and his eight followers confronted them with weapons at the ready.
"Bomber, we're not happy with the way you and your friends are running things. We're taking over. Hand over your weapons and no one will get hurt. You and your friends can take your luxury RV and whatever food you have and leave in the morning. My men will take you into 'temporary custody' until morning."
He turned to address the convoy, his convoy now, his face ablaze with triumph at gaining his objective with so little hassle and he started to laugh but it died in his throat.
Tasha Myers, Winkle and a handful of 'new arrivals', including the man who'd balked at murder, were standing there, pistols drawn and aimed at him and his group.
Sheldon stood up and yelled, "Leslie – NO!" but it was too late for Montgomery and three of his comrades who'd pointed their weapons at them.
It was over almost before it began. Tasha motioned their friends to disarm the four live mutineers who had either the luck or sense to drop their weapons.
"No, Sheldon. This stops here. You'll just lecture them until they see the errors of their way, forgive them, promise to include them in decisions and they won't warn us next time!" yelled Leslie, waving her pistol around while she talked.
Winkle and her squad rounded up the survivors and led them over behind a stand of pine trees. Sheldon jumped at the sound of the volley of gunfire and then got up and stormed away out into the darkness with Penny fast on his heels.
"Sheldon, wait for me! Jesus, I know you're upset about what happened but – "
"UPSET? Upset means 'turned over or spilled'. I am so fucking angry with her that I…I don't want to talk with anyone right now. I don't want to be involved in any of this crap any longer. I'm just a follower, Penny, just as I told you in Pasadena. You and Winkle and Bomber and…and yes, your dad – you're okay with murdering people because they disagree with you. But not me, Penny, NOT ME!"
"Sheldon, that's not fair! They would have murdered us once they separated us from the group, Sheldon. And quit yelling at me! I was sitting right beside you and I wasn't part of any of it but – "
"But what, Penny?" He had stopped and turned and now faced her, his own face hot and red with anger and disgust.
She took a step back from him, afraid of him for one of the few times since all this had begun. She knew he desperately wanted to find someplace where it wasn't necessary to loot, scavenge or deal with things like the Elect or the nuts at Offut Air Force Base.
"She did the right thing and for the right reasons. And she was right about you, honey. You would have forgiven them, tried to make them see your point of view and it would be only a matter of time until – "
"I want no part of this, Penny. If this is the price of survival, I'm not sure I want to." He was deadly serious and she was so shocked and angered at his attitude that she backhanded him across the face, staggering him. He wiped blood from his mouth where his teeth had torn the inside of his lip.
"How dare you! We're not murderers, Sheldon Cooper, we're survivors and we have noble intentions and…and…" She turned and walked quickly away from him, appalled that she'd struck him but angry that he was so blind to the changes the Choker had forced on all of them.
'He still thinks that Good will beat the shit out of Evil every time. He lives in a comic book world where the good guys always win in the end. I've fallen in love with a man who denies the 'New Reality' and it's going to get him killed one day and then where will we all be?'
Except for the night guards, everyone had returned to their RVs to calm down the kids and talk quietly among themselves. There were some who applauded Winkle for executing the 'traitors' but there were a few who felt as Sheldon did but kept their opinions to themselves. They were in the minority.
Penny slept in her parents' RV, not ready to face Sheldon, uncertain how to approach him.
After rearranging the convoy families into the additional transports, they drove north towards the Door Peninsula, Manitowoc and then a brief foray into Sturgeon Bay, still dispersing units to scrounge, scavenge and search for both diesel and gasoline.
Sheldon had hardly slept at all and when he did, he was plagued by dreams of Winkle gunning down Will Montgomery and his followers. He sat in silence in the Beast while Bernadette drove and Howard offered commentary on almost anything they passed, casting casual glances back toward his friend. Both he and Bernie were concerned about his emotional state.
His right cheek and his lip were both swollen but it was the look in his eyes that made them worry.
Bomber was driving the army fuel truck and Leslie was seated beside him, as usual. She stared out the window at nothing at all. She was thinking about how to restore her friendship with Sheldon. She needed him in her life. He wasn't a lover but he'd become so much more than a friend since leaving Pasadena.
Sheldon had walked away from her when she sat beside him at a picnic bench for morning coffee. He went behind the stand of trees where they'd left the bodies for the night and began digging a mass grave. When she attempted to help him he glared at her and said, "You've done quite enough already, Dr. Winkle. Perhaps it would be best if you familiarized yourself with the road map and left this to me."
Leslie blinked back tears, whether of anger or humiliation she wasn't sure. She rounded up a few men and sent them to help Sheldon 'bury the bodies from last night' and then went to assign areas for the various teams to search in along their route.
Penny had decided to ride along with her mother while her dad drove the 18-wheeler that contained their discovery of the canned goods. She needed to talk and her mother had always been a good listener.
"Mom, I-I hit Sheldon last night. We were fighting about what Winkle had done and he said something horrible and I backhanded him and now I feel like I'm going to lose him…"
"Spending the night apart makes really good sense then, doesn't it?" her mother said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"What was I supposed to do, Mom? He was so angry and I'd hit him…"
"You should have stood your ground, apologized for hitting him, and then just showed him how much you loved him. He's a curious breed, your Sheldon. Part man child, part evil genius and part of him is full of goodness and the belief that life must make sense and when it doesn't, he tries to make it make sense."
"So what should I do?" Her mother's description was exactly how he was. How could her mother know him better than she did?
"Help him make sense of things. Don't let him sulk and stew or he'll come up with some off-the-wall strategy and tactic that he thinks will set the world right again. He'll do something dramatic, not because he wants attention, but rather because he cannot live with things as they are now."
He had a solution. He glanced at the map and then clicked on the dialogue box that opened when he rested the cursor on it.
'Hmm, a solution to fuel supplies and the possibility that the bridge over the Straits may be impassable…'
He did some quick calculations and grinned. They'd shave almost 300 miles off their journey by cutting across the lake. 'Now, if only the ice cooperates and the weather is accommodating and our means to cross the lake is in place…I'll be able to begin my search for Melissa in less than a month.'
For some time now he'd been concerned about the need to defend the fledgling colony but after moving his cursor north to the Straits he found his answer to defense and shelter. They wouldn't need a stockade or earthworks…the Great Lakes would provide a bulwark against casual depredations by looters or militia.
His mind raced to organize his thoughts and he smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Howard, how familiar are you with steam-powered engines?"