DAY TEN
Heavy is the Head
When she came into the kitchen, Chelsea saw a face she hadn't seen before. The uniform, sure, that was the same as Joel's, but the man conversing with Davis had only that in common with the deputy she already knew. His bearing and manners were much more confident, authoritarian even, and his face was hard and stern, the brown moustache only adding to the strict look. He was listening to Davis, his arms crossed, offering only the occasional grim-faced nod.
Just as Chelsea wanted to greet him, Davis' eyes fell on her and with a smile, he told the cop, "There she is, our MVP. Fearless scavenger, and keeper of the holy job board." Then he introduced the man in the deputy uniform. "Chelsea, this is Vic Castillo, Vic, meet Chelsea."
The look on the cop's face could only be described as 'is this guy serious'. He clearly hadn't expected her to look like, well, like she did. For old-fashioned moustache cops as these, Chelsea's look was utter anathema. She was used to it, of course, but that didn't mean it was fun.
She could visibly notice the effort on the cop's face to hide his disdain, and he managed to utter a semi-friendly, "Chelsea, is it?"
"Yeh, tha's me," she held out her hand, and the cop, after a short hesitation, shook it. She could tell he was being courteous only for its own sake, and that he didn't like the looks of her one bit. This would be fun.
"Well," he said, "Davis tells me you've done an admirable job until now, and uh, I s'pose he's right. You've taken good care of this shelter", that looked like it hurt to say, "… for a civilian. Thanks for all the work you've done, you've earned a rest. I'll take it from here."
Oh, no. No, no, no. Not like that he wasn't. Chelsea had been sort of thrust into the leader role, and she'd disliked it at first, but she'd come to feel more comfortable in it as the days went by. And while she had no qualms – or not too many – about passing the reins to a better leader, she wasn't just going to step aside because some cop assumed his uniform automatically made him the boss. "Uh, you wha'?"
"I said I'll take it from here."
She crossed her arms. "Just like tha'? You 'avin' a laugh?" Davis was silent, and Chelsea knew well enough why.
He explained himself with the patience a father had for a disobedient child with a slight mental handicap. "Miss… again, I'm sure you've done your work to the best of your ability, but this place really needs an officer of the law, someone trained in this sort of thing, to take charge."
"Yeh mate, no offence, alreet? But yeh cannae just walk in 'ere an' take over just cause you're wearin' a uniform."
"That's not how it is, miss… ?"
"Jayne."
"Miss Jayne. Before you arrived, I was the one who organized things here. It's only when the sheriff called me to help that I left. So you just… temporarily took over, I s'pose? I'm grateful for what you've done, I really am, but I've heard you've been pushing yourself like crazy, so take your rest, you've earned it."
He wasn't seriously trying to make it sound like he was doing her a favour, was he? No god damn way. "I don't need rest, wha' I need is not to be sidelined like a fuckin' twelve-year-old."
"That's not what this is about," the cop said, his face hardening. "Sometimes it's time to realize that there are people more qualified than you – "
"More qualified? Mate, you're a sheriff's deputy, not a CEO, or a crisis manager, or even a weddin' planner. I'm sure you're good at your job an' tha', but tha' gives you zero credentials when it comes to runnin' the day-to-day of a shelter in the fuckin' apocalypse." She was actually feeling herself get upset now. "Now I'm na too small-minded to let someone else take over if they can do better, bu' I willnae accept bein' shoved aside withou' any thought or reason, by some copper who thinks 'is wee badge automatically makes 'im the boss."
"Now you listen here, miss," the cop raised his voice. "This isn't about badges or uniforms, this is about – "
"About wha'?" she interrupted him, taking care to keep her voice level. "Wha' is it abou' then?"
"It's, it's…" he searched for words, obviously backed into a corner. "It's just, it's about experience."
"I've got lots more experience with this group than you do, mate. There's fourteen people 'ere. D'you even know their names?"
"No," he had to admit. "But that's not the issue here."
"Wha' is then?" He kept changing the goalposts, and that, for her, was a clear indication that she had him, so she loosened up a bit. "Look mate, I'm sure you just want what's best for this shelter, an' I'm aware tha' I may not look the part, but I've done a pretty ace job keepin' this group together an' bringin' in new people." She needed to be careful now, this man was an authoritarian type, and making him end up with egg on his face might earn her an enemy for life.
"I'm not 'avin' this argument to win, or to make you lose face. None of tha'. I understand that you think it's best if you take over, bu' how 'bout you give us a chance first, yeah? Let me prove m'self?" She spread her hands. "How's that sound?"
He was silent for a moment, and she risked a quick glance at Davis. He gave her a look back that looked supportive and approving, but she wasn't sure.
"Fine," the cop said finally. "I guess you've earned the benefit of the doubt, and Davis did speak highly of you, so I won't push the issue." She felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew this was a man whose mind wasn't easy to change. "However…"
"Yeh?" Here it came.
"I do want to be involved in the decisions you make here. Just like you, I won't be sidelined, is that alright with you?" She knew he wasn't asking for permission.
"Tha's fine. I'm not queen fuckin' Elizabeth or owt. Everyone gets a say," this was a good time for some flattery, "an' I know there's lots of things you can teach me. So I'd more'n welcome some help."
That seemed to please him, the hardness in his face slightly abating. "Good to hear. Oh, and before you go out scavenging, I'd like to take a tour of the Shelter with you, see what state it's in. Especially the fence. Don't know if you've got the time?"
Not really, but it would be a good idea to make time. This was a man who spoke with authority, someone others would doubtless listen to, and she could really use him on her side. Not to mention that this man seemed significantly more capable than Joel, bless 'im. "Whey aye. Tha' way, I can introduce you to our new faces, too. It's um, just summat I like to do." He didn't seem the worst sort, even if they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. Then again, he might just be playing nice for the time being. Time would tell.
"Deputy Castillo, you're back," Renee said as Chelsea and the cop walked into the school's atrium. She sounded relieved. "Good to see you're still in one piece. Did you… bring the Sheriff?"
The deputy's face darkened. "Hello Ms. Cass. I'm afraid not. Sheriff Reinhart didn't survive."
Sadness washed over Renee's face. "That's… that's awful. He seemed like a good man."
"He was. His death was a great loss to the world."
"I'm um, sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. I'm sure he'd be proud of what you've all accomplished here so far."
Renee nodded. "And um, morning Chelsea."
"Eya Renee."
"Feeling alright?"
She kept the reply short. "Well as can be." No need for her new rival to know she had some 'health problems'.
Chelsea did the introductions quickly but thoroughly, and everyone seemed to be more or less pleased with the deputy now present. Joel especially looked incredibly relieved he was back, like a great burden fell off his shoulders. While Joel's admiration might not be very hard to earn, it was still the person who knew him best, and Chelsea figured if the guy had any reservations, he'd probably make it known somehow. Maybe.
When they were done reminiscing, Chelsea took the cop with her for a tour of the Shelter. She pointed out the somewhat upgraded sleeping quarters and the staffed and equipped kitchen, earning a few grudgingly approving grunts, and finally, they took a tour of the fence.
"Now here's the main thing I wanted to talk to you about," he announced.
"Yeh?"
"This fence." He sighed and put his hands in his sides, looking around the perimeter. "I see you've already started work reinforcing it, and that's good, but… there's still a long way to go."
"Yeh, I kno'."
"Without a sturdy fence, we're going to be in serious danger when the gnawers attack in a sizeable group, or worse, when less well-intentioned people decide they want this place for themselves."
"We're doin' all we can, bu' Anita's all alone for now, an' she's pushin' 'erself to the limit."
"And there's your problem," he said. "You need more people working on this fence." He turned towards her. "You said you could manage this. Being the leader of this group. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, but," he raised a finger, "I'm going to need to see some real progress. So let's make a deal. If you can get this fence reinforced all the way 'round before the end of the week, then I'm convinced you've got what it takes to make these people feel safe."
"An' if na?"
"Then we'll need to reopen the conversation concerning this Shelter's leadership." He made it clear that there was to be no discussion. "You'll have my support if you earn it, but I need to know this place is safe."
If she wanted to, she could see this as arm-twisting, as trying to get his way, but what he was asking for was actually beneficial for everyone, and so she was inclined to believe that he really wanted what was best for the Shelter. In his authoritarian, my-way-or-the-highway manner, but still.
Could she get the fence finished in time? Maybe. Probably. If she put some extra people on it. She wasn't sure, but she also knew that being the leader meant not backing away from a challenge. So she nodded. "Alreet. Fence done by the end of the week or I'm a useless twat."
"Uh… yes. That." He held out his hand and Chelsea shook it. "Then we'll see what we'll see at the end of the week. Until then, I'll try to make myself useful as much as possible."
"Mm. Davis told you about the job board?"
He could almost hide his pained expression. Almost. "He did."
"I'll put yeh on there too. I assume you'd prefer to do summat tha' best uses your skills?"
"Naturally."
"Alreet. Give us a few, yeah? I'll rearrange some things."
He nodded. "I'll go get settled in." With that, he walked off.
Chelsea wasted no time getting to the job board, picking up a few crackers from the still Mark-less kitchen on the way. Seemed he was sleeping in. Good. She uncapped the marker, and after a whiff, held it up to the job board. Some things needed to be changed. And she figured Deputy Castillo would probably mind if he was on the lowest rung on the job board, so she inserted him into slot number two. Taking him out for scav duty right away would be a bit much, but that was the long-term idea. Not just because that'd doubtless be what he'd be best at, but while he was away with her, he couldn't spend time undermining her while she was gone. For now, it'd have to be Joel, so Vic could patrol the fence and find his bearings a bit, get to know people. Hopefully without lobbying for his personal leader role a bit too much.
She was in time to take Mark off the night shift and put him back in his kitchen without him even knowing, so there he would go. It would mean Doug needed to pull an all-nighter, but she'd heard he slept until three in the afternoon anyway, even with a half-shift, so he could do both, for once at least. She added a little apology after his name so he wouldn't be too upset.
Chelsea Jayne – scav
Vic Castillo – patrol fence
Renee Cass – help Anita
Anita Cass – reinforce fence
Joel Oswalt – scav
Elaine Martin – hospitality / counselling
Davis Cray – radio / maintenance
Cindy Bransen – scav
Paul Rainier – counseling
Bud Larsen – scav
Doug SCHULTZ – night watch, all night (just once I promise)
Max ? – counseling
Mark Corbeau – chef
Ryan Michaels – help Anita
Michiru ? - unavailable
She sighed, hoping Paul would be available again soon. When he was there, she always felt just a little bit safer. Maybe Bud, as an army vet, would be a stabilizing force in the scav group today too, but she still had much more confidence in Paul. Which reminded her…
Before the scav team left, she'd need a minute to talk to Paul. She went up to the classroom where he and Elaine were preparing the counseling session and asked, "Ey Paul? Borrow you for a minute?"
"Of course," he said, coming out into the hallway with her. "What's up?"
"Well, um, the deputy bloke I introduced you to earlier?"
"Mm."
"Well, 'e's a bit… forceful."
He chuckled. "You don't say."
"Yeh. An', well, 'e's made it clear that 'e wants a say in what we do at the Shelter."
Paul nodded. "Figured he would. He's a cop, got a lot of experience under his belt. Makes sense."
Not entirely to Chelsea, but fine. "I wanted to ask if, um, well, if you'd be interested in also 'avin' a say?"
He frowned. "You mean… as an advisor or something?"
That wasn't a bad way to put it. "Yeh. Yeh, I think you can call it tha'." It was a bit embarrassing to admit but, "I kinda need someone to… be a bit of a counterweight to Vic? He's very um, asser'ive, and I'm worried he might overwhelm me at times. Y'kno' wha' I mean?"
"I do. And I'd be honored to be one of your advisors." It was an immense relief, because she was certain she and Paul saw eye-to-eye about a lot of things, and the stern authoritarian copper-type might not.
"Alreet, thanks, I really appreciate it. Now um, I need to go…" she motioned towards the stairs.
"Of course. With any luck, I'll be able to go back out there with you tomorrow." He looked back at Elaine and Max. "Things are going… better."
"Great, I'm looking forward to it!" She was.
She went on down the stairs and noticed people looking at the job board, some more pleased than others.
Bud was the first to notice her, and the first to speak up. "Hmph. You're putting me on scav duty? With only a few hours of sleep?"
That was a bit of an exaggeration, the guy had worked until two and slept until eight thirty. Not exactly a brutal regime, especially for an army vet. Still, she knew it would be a bad idea to ruffle feathers, especially in public. "Yeh, I kno', it's na easy," she 'admitted', "bu' it's just this once, yeah? I'm hopin' Paul will be back tomorrow, so he can resume scavvin' with us."
His only response was another, "Hmph." He adjusted the rifle slung on his back and marched off towards the gate. Such drama from people, even now, after a zombie apocalypse.
No drama from Cindy. She made one of her trademark bounces and chirped, "Lookin' forward to another day with you, Chel. I'm ready to get goin'." She didn't even wait for a reply and headed straight to the exit. Joel, too, seemed up for it, finishing his coffee cup and nodding. "I'm good too, let me know when you're ready." It was good to see him looking a bit more confident. Maybe Vic's presence had done a lot of good for that. Most other people seemed fine with their assignments, Mark in particular would have approved of being put back in the kitchen, if he had known. Doug, the only one who was guaranteed to have gripes with the job allocations, wouldn't be a problem. Not until he woke up, anyway.
Ryan approached her while the others went to their posts. "Hey Chelsea?"
"Wha' is it, love?"
"I'm uh, not sure what you want me to do exactly?" She was pretty sure he knew full well, but that this was simply a preface to another question.
"Just, y'kno', help Anita. The fence needs work, an' she's doin' it all by 'erself. I'm sure she'll tell you exactly what she needs done."
He fidgeted a bit. "I was um, kinda hoping I could come with you, you know, outside?"
"Yeh, I understand, bu' right now we need to get this fence finished. Anita needs all the hands she can get. I promise, when the fence is a bit stronger, you can come back with us again."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Yeah. I guess. You're not… just saying that, are you?"
She almost felt sorry for the poor kid, but her promises weren't hollow platitudes to get him off her back. "I'm not, Ryan, don't worry, I'll put yeh back on outside duty tomorrow, how's that sound?"
He brightened somewhat. "Great. Thanks, and um, sorry for being a bit… well."
"Tha's fine," she smiled at him. "Go on, you've got a fence to work on."
"Right. Um, be careful out there? I'd… hate to see you get hurt." He quickly added. "You guys, I mean. All of you."
His youthful awkwardness was touching, and it brought some joy to her morning. "We will. You guys be safe too."
That was definitely the idea.
"Alright, Chelsea! Where we goin'?" an always-chipper Cindy asked her, smiling broadly behind her surgical mask, her thumbs hooked in the straps of her backpack.
"No idea, actually. Thought maybe you guys'd 'ave an idea?"
Bud grunted, "My daughter sometimes went to the Menard Strip Mall. Not too far from here, west along route 190. Might still be stuff left to find." He shrugged. "For what it's worth."
Cindy nodded. "Probably one of the first places that got looted, but there might be things left."
"Any other suggestions?" Chelsea asked, but no responses came. "Off we go then."
They walked along the 190, chatting about this and that, Cindy as always taking the lead in the conversation, nattering to Chelsea about her adoptive parents, then to Joel about the days at high school, and finally to Bud about… something. The conversation seemed to be one-sided, but Cindy was giving it her best, and Chelsea appreciated her for it. While Cindy chewed the fat with Bud, Chelsea tried to squeeze some information from Joel concerning their new arrival, Vic.
"So hey, Vic…"
"Mm?"
"Wha's he like?"
"Vic?" Joel said. "Why, he's a good cop, and a good man. I learned a lot from him, even during my short time on the force. Mind you, he's not an easy man to impress. Not easily satisfied." He chuckled. "And he always keeps moochin' my hot sauce."
That didn't sound so bad. But of course, whereas Vic might not be easy to impress, Joel was the exact opposite. Chelsea wasn't sure how much confidence she had in his estimations of people, but still, a positive response was better than a negative one. Joel might have a rather simplified view on things, and life, but he'd probably notice when someone was the opposite of virtuous. So it was good to know that this Vic guy was probably somewhat decent at least. Perhaps not jolly good fun, but somewhat decent.
A sign leading off the 190 read "Menard Strip Mall." Chelsea knew assuming was the mother of all fuck-ups, but perhaps it wouldn't be entirely dumb to assume this arrow led to the Menard Strip Mall.
"Uh oh." Cindy muttered. "Leather sniffer alert." She pointed at the bike tracks made in the shoulder of the road.
"Ugh," Chelsea could only say. "Those blokes again."
"Turn back?" Joel asked.
It might be wisest, but if they kept backing out of things at the first sign of trouble, they'd starve really fast. "Mmmno, let's take a closer look first."
A nearby copse of trees provided some cover, from which to observe the location. Silently, Bud peered through the scope of his rifle. At length, he started counting off the threats. "I've got… two, three, four zombies behind the book shop. Seen at least two Coyotes move around their motorcycles." A pause. "Three now." Another silence. "And one, two looters inside the fast food joint. Coyotes and looters seem to have agreed to leave each other alone. That's all I can see for now."
"Mm. Least three Coyotes. Tha's a lot."
"Uh huh," Cindy agreed. "I ain't goin' up against guns with this here crossbow."
"You won't have to," Bud grunted. "Much easier way to do this than by 'goin' up against' anything."
"Well gee, Bud, what'd you have in mind?" Joel asked.
Bud sighed impatiently, but finally decided to indulge the others. "Fine. Those Coyotes are dumb one-percenter fellas, right? Well, if I shoot one of them dead, and they've got guns, the others will return fire. Blindly, of course, since they won't know where I am." He sounded as if he was speaking to a class of toddlers. "When they do," those zombies will hear the noise and come at them. Then I take out the other two when they're 'otherwise occupied'. You three mop up what's left."
It sounded simple enough, except, "Yeh, and wha' about those looter blokes?"
"Like I said," Bud replied. "You mop up what's left."
"Shit, guess that's how we'll do it then, right?" Cindy asked.
"You three take positions away from me so we aren't a big target clumped together," Bud said. "And stay still unless anyone or anything comes at me, or until everyone who has a gun is either on your side or dead."
"Understood," Chelsea merely said. They quickly crossed the street and huddled behind a nearby half-high wall.
"Y'know," Cindy made it known, "Chelsea, I might be wrong here, but I'm thinking Bud doesn't like you very much."
So she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. "Yeh, tha' seems pretty obvious, dunnit?"
"I wonder why."
Joel offered, "Maybe he doesn't like English folks?"
That got a chuckle out of Chelsea. "I'm sure 'e's not tha' patriotic."
"Maybe he doesn't like women?" Cindy guessed. "Y'know, old army vet. Thinks women shouldn't be in charge?"
"I'm sure it's not tha' either. I'm thinkin' it's personal somehow."
"The hair?"
"Mmmmaybe."
"Could be," Joel said. "I mean, you're nice and all, but you do have a bit of a…" he cleared his throat, "… nevermind, I shouldn't. Not my place."
"Oi, Joel!" Chelsea bit at him. "Wha' were you goin' t' say?" She hated it when people started something and then chickened out at the last second. That, and some strange nervousness crept up inside her. Maybe people were talking? Stuff she didn't realize, but that still annoyed people?
"No, no. Nevermind, I'm just sayin' things."
"No, Joel, come on, spi' it oot, yeah?"
He hesitated. "It's just…"
A loud crack sounded, the first of Bud's shots. All three whipped their heads around and saw one of the Coyotes go down, his helmet flying apart amidst a spray of red and yellow matter. As Bud had predicted, the two others unloaded their shotguns in the general direction of Bud's hiding place, but the chances of them hitting anything at all were nonexistent.
Two seconds later, three zombies came lurching at the two bikers. They quickly ran for cover and attempted to reload their shotguns, but doing both at the same time was too much for them, and one let his two shells clatter to the ground as he ran, and the other abandoned the reloading effort and simply bolted for the nearby cars. The zombies came closer, but before they reached the two bikers, the two shotguns, now reloaded, fired again, blowing two zombie heads apart. The two looters dropped everything and ran out the back door, into the foliage.
Four more emerged from behind the burger joint, and the Coyotes knew the jig was up. They sprang from cover and ran for their motorcycles as fast as they could, the zombies pursuing. They barely made it to their bikes and kicked them into action. Bud had apparently chosen not to fire anymore, which was probably the best idea, not wasting ammo and not attracting the lurchers to their position. The bikers revved their engines and rocketed off, but one chose to be defiant and steered right into the group of four zombies, trying to run them down. With a loud "Yeeehaw!" he crashed into the shamblers, smacking three of them to the ground. The impact proved far stronger than he had expected, however, his wheels sliding out from under him, and he wiped out in the parking lot, sliding over the asphalt and smacking into a bollard with his back first. Chelsea winced when she saw the body fold over backwards. As the last biker blasted past their position and away without even noticing them, his fallen friend remained motionless.
"Mop up what's left, huh?" Cindy asked.
"Yeh. Let's go."
They emerged from their hiding place and smacked the heads apart of the two zombies that still moved, and then finished off the deaders on the ground, their bones already broken from the motorcycle impact. After a brief check of their surroundings – nothing came – they went to check the fallen Coyote. The inside of the helmet visor was sprayed with blood, the body itself lay in a horrible bend, the spine doubtless shattered, and the force of the impact had torn his denim shirt and sent broken ribs jutting out of his torso. There was no way he had survived.
"What a fuckin' idiot," Cindy commented. "I mean seriously. Complete with 'yeehaw' an' everything."
Chelsea could not help but agree.
"With enemies like these…" Bud said, coming to stand beside them.
"Well," Cindy concluded, "that does mean the place is free for the lootin'."
"Whatever those Coyotes haven't grabbed or destroyed yet, at least," Joel said. "Great thing is, they haven't even seen us. Nice work, Bud."
He shrugged. "Wasn't as much my nice work as it was their stupidity."
Humble, but true.
And thus, the looting began. The public toilets still had the occasional bog roll, the fast food joint netted them three cans of frankfurters, two jars of pickles and several squeeze bottles of condiments, the electronics shop had fallen victim to its own sprinklers at some point, and had been one of the first targets for looters at the start of the epidemic, so most of the stuff was trashed, but some crank flashlights, usb-sticks and a water cooker had survived. Everything else was either taken, ruined by water, or simply destroyed by shitheads. The printers in particular, had all been smashed to bits with a furious vengeance, the baseball bat used to do the deed still lying there. Chelsea understood perfectly. She picked up the bat and hefted it in her hands. Anything that was used to destroy printers should be considered sanctified. The Holy Bat of Printers' Bane +5 came along. Ryan could have the crowbar if he liked.
The bookshop was in a decent state, partially looted, but generally, the people who looted books also showed a bit more respect for the world, and so nothing had been torched or smashed. Books were heavy and inedible, but still, Chelsea took home a small assortment of different genres, as well as a few magazines with crossword puzzles and other brain trainers. No adult magazines here, sadly. The barbershop presented them with a hair dryer, shampoo (no anti-lice crap this time), a few combs, and other sundry hygiene items. Last came the hardware store, of course, looted of nearly everything useful, but still containing a roll of duct tape, a few boxes of screws and nails, a level, and two packets of cable ties. All stuff that could be handy.
Loaded and packed, the scavengers were ready to go, except for one more thing. In his typical half-grunts, Bud told everyone to drink their water, and give him the empty bottles. When they did so, he took all the bottles with him, walked to the only motorcycle that wasn't ruined, and set a nail against the fuel tank. With a stone, he whacked the nail through the aluminum and let the gasoline run into the water bottles. Good thinking.
"Can never have enough gasoline," he remarked. It was only six litres, but it could carry them a long way. "Make it a habit," he said. "Surprised you need me to tell you this."
Chelsea could have told him off, but instead she simply said, "Yeh, cheers for the advice." No point antagonizing the guy.
"Y'all, why don't we just take the entire bike?" Cindy piped up. "Dead tyre-licker probably has the keys on him."
"It's noisy, Cindy," Chelsea explained. "We ride a motorcycle back to the Shelter and we'll have a trail of deaders behind us."
She blew. "Lame." Bud stuffed the bottles in Cindy's backpack, after making sure they were completely sealed. "The Hell?" Cindy complained. "Why y'all givin' me the gas?"
"Because your backpack is the only one that isn't full," Bud merely replied. "Far from it, even. Try not to catch fire."
Cindy only huffed in indignation.
"This was sort of a success, wasn't it?" Joel asked.
Chelsea nodded. "Yeh. Yeah, I think so." After a moment of hesitation, she picked up the two shotguns the dead Coyotes had left behind. There were no more shells left, but they might still serve. If they could speak, they'd probably be grateful to be rid of their old masters.
No antibiotics had been forthcoming, but then again, that hadn't been the focus of the search either. And the ones they'd scored recently would last a while, thankfully.
The return was without incident, but when they came in, Davis immediately called Chelsea to the gym. Everyone was gathered, except the three other scavengers, who also took their place in the group, guided by Paul. A strange feeling of worry crept up in Chelsea's belly. What was this about? She felt like it might be terrible news for her, especially after Joel had dropped a hint that not everything was on the up-and-up. Or something. She didn't know.
"Chelsea," Davis said. "We have a serious matter to discuss."
She felt like shouting at him to go on, spit it out instead of being dramatic. Her belly ached with worry. What was this about? "Uh… okay? Wha's goin' on?"
Davis cleared his throat. "We can't decide everything by majority vote. Sometimes things happen that need a to step up and make a decision." Her tension eased somewhat, but she still wasn't at ease. "This is one of those things."
"… Yeh?"
"The uh," he began. "The well is broken. Probably the pumps that gave out."
She tried not to show the sigh of relief she breathed. "Oh. Oh, alreet. Can we fix it?"
"That's the thing," Davis said. "We can, but it'll require time and effort, and parts we could use for other things. That's why we need you to decide what happens next."
She noticed the moustache cop and Paul stepping forward from the crowd. Both did it very subtly, but it was clear what they intended.
"How much time and parts are we talkin'?"
"Two days, maybe three. And plenty of stuff we could otherwise use to reinforce the fence. We need to build a pulley to get down there."
She quickly cast a look at the cop. He'd been pretty vocal about his demands to see the fence upgraded. But then again, losing their water supply meant huge trouble as well. "An' can't we uh, take water from the faucets an' tha'?"
Davis shook his head. "They're all supplied by the well. No well, no water."
"Uh huh. And how much water have we got on hand?"
"Enough for a few days, we've taken precautions."
Oh good, so they'd probably be able to postpone the repairs.
"Thing is," Paul said, "if we don't fix the thing now, the filters will get clogged and the whole system might become permanently unusable."
Ah shit. She needed to think, and maybe get some guidance on this one. It seemed that silently, the entire crowd had agreed to let Paul and Vic take a kind of subleader position. This might be a good time to show that she acknowledged them too, and that way she could make a more informed decision. "Paul, Vic, what're your opinions?"
Paul spoke first. "I agree that the fence is a priority… but I also think that not fixing the well will create a much more certain and urgent problem. If we lose our water supply, we're guaranteed to be in serious trouble."
He had a point. Very much so. "Alreet. Vic?"
"Well, I certainly think the well requires our attention… but I also think we're playing with fire by allowing the fence to remain as weak as it is. All the water in the world isn't going to protect us when zombies or worse, other people launch an attack on this place."
"Uh huh. Thank you, Vic, I definitely see your point."
Davis looked up at her. "Chelsea? Fix the well or repair the fence?"
Ugh, shit, what to do? Fixing the well seemed more urgent for her too, but only a little bit, and if she did, she might lose this Vic-guy's support. When she looked at the crowd, she saw quite a few people had, consciously or not, come to stand behind him, almost rallied. Paul would understand, and he'd support her decision, no matter what, but he too had people gravitating toward him. Those people might not be so understanding.
"Anyone else want to say summat?" Chelsea asked, but she knew no one would.
"The decision is all yours, Chelsea. Do what you think is best," Davis said. At least this guy would never judge.
She had to decide, and it was pushing her brain into overdrive. Make the decision she personally supported and turn this Vic guy against her? Or decide against her own intuition and risk drying up the Shelter?
Maybe, maybe there was a third option. It was a horrible gamble, but she couldn't expect to keep being the leader by not taking chances. And this was a big one. If she got it done, it would pay off massively. If she botched it, she'd probably spend the rest of her days hauling rocks to the fence while Vic and Paul sat in the shade and drank the last of the water.
She took a breath and announced, "We do both."
A few surprised gasps rose from the group, but she didn't care about those, the two faces she wanted to see were the ones closest to her. Paul raised his eyebrows as if to tell her she was betting the farm in a very reckless way – no need to tell her – and Vic's frown deepened so much it looked like his forehead would split in two.
Heat blasted up in her gut and up her chest, but she had to stick to her guns.
"Tomorrow, we'll mount an expedition to secure as many building materials as possible. Eight of us will go." Her bladder felt like it needed to let go right now. "And everyone who's not on scav or watch duty will work on the fence or the well. That way we won't lose time or materials. We'll 'ave to give up some creature comforts like Mark's delicious cookin' or Elaine's hospitality, but we can punch through this if we all roll up our sleeves."
"Are you… sure about this, Chelsea?" Davis asked in a low voice.
She wasn't. At all. "I am. We can do this, lads and lasses, I believe in you. I hope you believe in me."
There were some murmurs, not all of them in agreement, but no one openly protested. Cindy chimed in, "If only them shithead biker fags hadn't stolen our fuckin' tools."
Paul inhaled sharply through his nose and sighed. "You're spreading us awfully thin, Chelsea, and you're leaving the Shelter vulnerable. I also haven't the faintest where we can find building materials without a massive firefight, but I do respect the fact that you're showing courage and standing up to the challenge." That sounded… okay, she guessed. "I'll definitely do all I can to help."
"I disagree with your decision," Vic said, "for the same reasons mister Rainier stated, and I think keeping this place so poorly guarded, even for a day, is irresponsible." He paused for effect, making sure the word 'irresponsible' sank in. "But… I said I'd give you the benefit of the doubt, and I will. I hope I'm not going to regret this later."
"You won't. We'll get this done." She felt a headache coming on, a release of built-up stress, and asked, "Was there owt else?"
"Nope," Davis replied, "That's all. I'm sorry to drag you here right after your sortie, but you understand this was urgent. But please, go rest up… Mark? How long?"
Mark's voice piped up from the group, "Half an hour or so. Orrrrr… make that forty minutes."
Cindy came to stand next to her. "Gives us time for a shower?"
"Cindy. Seriously."
"What?"
"Were you asleep durin' this meetin'? We've only got a few days' worth of water."
She made a stupid face. "Oh. Right, shit. Wasn't thinkin."
Chelsea bopped Cindy on the shoulder and grinned. "Blockhead. I'm still 'avin' a quick wash at the sink tho."
No hot water was there calm her nerves, and her belly was still a tight rubber ball. She really hoped she hadn't doomed herself, or in fact the entire Shelter, with her decision. She had to make this work, or it'd look very bad for her leadership indeed. There'd doubtless be a certain someone calling for a vote of no confidence if she screwed it up. Or worse. Standing here, in front of the sink, she felt tiny.
"I gotta say, Chelsea," Cindy's voice came through her closed eyelids, "I gotta admire your balls."
"Well," she grunted. "I'm naked so admire all you want."
"I'm bein' serious, Chel. It took guts to decide what you did. And Paul and that Vic guy will respect you for it, I'm sure."
She soaped up. "Unless zombies knock over the fence and kill our dehydrated selves in seconds."
Cindy blew. "What're the odds of that happenin', huh?"
"Never tell me the odds." She felt terrible. Had she gambled it all away in a stupid bid to stay in charge? Was she liking her role maybe a bit too much?
"C'mon, Chel, ain't no asteroid field you're navigatin'." Cindy tried to cheer her up. "All you need's a bit of luck and a good place to find materials. I might know a place. Old supply warehouse off the 281. Garage nearby too. We might even split into groups or somethin'. Maybe Joel or this Vic guy know good spots too." Her face lit up. "Mm. I just thought of somethin'."
"What's tha' then?"
"If you like, ask this Vic dude for input, he'll probably like it. Y'know, like, people with big-ass egos always like bein' asked for advice, don't they?"
Cindy wasn't wrong, in fact, Chelsea had thought the same thing, but she didn't mention it, and instead said, "Yeh. Yeh, tha's a good idea, actually."
"See? Ain't always a foot in my mouth."
That brought a smile to Chelsea's face. Cindy was a weird one, but her unflappable optimism and her good cheer always made Chelsea feel like there was hope, and everything would be alright. She wasn't just a groupmate anymore, she was becoming a real friend. "Hey Cindy?"
"Yeah, darlin'?" she asked while running a brush through her wet hair.
"Thanks. Y'know. For always bein' so positive. For bein' such a friend."
A broad smile brightened her face up even more. "Aw, Chel, no need to thank me, it's just how I am. And you're doin' great leadin' this place. Hell, a week ago I was hidin' in a closet with nuthin' but a screwdriver, and now here I am, makin' new friends and havin' adventures an' shit. I should be thankin' you." She squeezed Chelsea's shoulder. "No but seriously, I'm glad I'm a part of this group, an' I ain't got much in the way of useful skills, all I got's my good cheer, so I'm usin' that to the fullest."
"Well, I'm glad you're here."
"I'm glad you're here too." Without warning, Cindy gave Chelsea a light slap on her naked butt. "We're a great team."
Chelsea hadn't realized it had happened before it was already over. Had Cindy just slapped her ass? That was weird. Probably an American thing or something? It felt incredibly awkward, but she did her best not to show it. It was probably no big deal for Cindy, but to her, it was extremely strange. Still, she didn't think anything of it, and decided to just let it pass. Not like she'd suddenly started motorboating her or something.
"I uh, I'm gan go get dressed an' update the job board if there's still time. We'll need all the bodies we can get."
"Yup. See you at dinner."
There was still time to update the job board, so she did so. Better do it now than afterward, so people could complain at dinner instead of having to hunt her down for their whining session. Because some would whine, it was all but certain. She uncapped the marker – whiff – and changed the jobs around.
She needed someone decent at fighting, or at least, not horrible, to patrol the fence. Her first thought was grumpy old Vic, but then, if he was at home, he could do all sorts of maneuvering to get himself back into a leadership role, especially now that her position was vulnerable. Better to have him where she could keep an eye on him. No, Joel could patrol the fence just fine too, and he'd be more than happy to. It seemed better to give him simple tasks to keep busy with. Important, but simple. The well absolutely needed to be repaired. It was even more urgent than the fence. The one with the best technical skills was Anita. If she couldn't repair the damn thing, no one could. She'd have to take a break from the fence, but she probably wouldn't mind. Then again, the fence needed to be worked on… who to assign to it? Someone strong, but not indispensable for the scavenging group. Hmmm, one person was a good candidate, though some might view it as a risk. Still, she decided that betting the farm wasn't something you did half-arsed, so she wrote the job next to Max' name. After a moment of thinking, she added Doug as well. That way those two could keep an eye on each other.
Bud would have to pull an all-nighter, but she didn't think he'd care that much. On the night shift he went. All the creature comfort people, like Elaine and Mark, instantly went into the Scav group. Renee too. There was no one to attend to, medically, and her injuries were healed too, so she'd be alright to deploy. She'd have to hang back, but still, better to have as many people along as possible.
She wrote, wrote and wrote.
Chelsea Jayne – scav
Vic Castillo – scav
Renee Cass – scav
Anita Cass – repair well
Joel Oswalt – patrol fence
Elaine Martin – scav
Davis Cray – radio / maintenance
Cindy Bransen – scav
Paul Rainier – scav
Bud Larsen – night watch, all night (just once I promise)
Doug SCHULTZ – reinforce fence
Max ? – reinforce fence
Mark Corbeau – scav
Ryan Michaels – scav
Michiru ? - unavailable
And that, as they said, was that. Anyone who had complaints could voice them at dinner. Or whenever. She capped the marker and went to the refectory to eat. All eyes briefly went up at her when she came in, and then down at their plates again. She took a seat opposite Cindy, who low-key winked at her, and ate dinner. The atmosphere was tense, but not outright hostile. No one spoke, though, and she supposed she better be the one to change that.
"So uh, Deputy Castillo?"
The cop dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "It's just Vic, dear. And yes?"
"Well, with your knowledge of the surroundin' lands, where do you think we're best to go when we're lookin' for buildin' supplies."
For a brief moment, she could clearly see it in his eyes: the urge to tell her, in front of everyone, that she was a complete idiot for making the decisions she made without even knowing where to search, and he wouldn't be wrong. But instead, he calmly said, "Mm. Let me see. There's a big Diamondback Hardware warehouse to the Northwest, along the 83?"
"Yeh, naw," Cindy replied in Chelsea's stead. "We been there already."
Only slightly annoyed at the interruption, he kept thinking. "Also a big junkyard to the Southwest, South off the 190. Bound to find tools and materials there. 'Bout half a day's walk though."
"Alreet, tha's far, but doable."
"M-hm. Might find more scrap than useful materials but it's worth a go."
"Ey," she suddenly noticed. "Your accent. You're not originally from 'round 'ere, are you?"
Cindy chuckled next to her. "You're one to talk."
"I'm not," the cop replied. "Worked in California until the last few years. City cop."
"Huh," Chelsea said. "So why'd you come to work in a little town called Splendid, Texas?"
His eyes hardened. "I don't see how that's any business of yours, miss Chelsea."
Hu-oh, that was a sensitive nerve it seemed. "Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to stick m'nose in your affairs. Was just curious."
He looked at his plate, and shoveled some food into his mouth. "That's alright." It clearly wasn't.
An awkward silence fell.
"… Anyone want seconds?" Mark asked, more to break the tension than anything.
"Aw shit," Cindy cheered. "I'll 'ave some, thanks!"
With that, talking slowly resumed. Chelsea took care to stay out of the cop's way, talking instead to Renee and Anita about their lives before the disaster. Elaine also joined in, and dinner ended pleasantly, at least.
After taking some time to head to the library and study maps of the surrounding area, Chelsea was about ready to head off to bed. As she folded the maps, however, Ryan came to sit by her. "Hey Chel. Can I call you Chel?"
"You can call me Peppa Pig if you want," she joked. '"Wha's up?"
"Oh, not much. Just… wanted to chat."
"Late though." It was, Chelsea was longing for her bed.
"Yeah, I know, sorry, it's just, I don't really resonate with much of the people here. I feel, I don't know, more at ease with you guys."
"Someone givin' you trouble?" It was inevitable that sooner or later, conflicts would ensue, and better to be somewhat attentive of them.
"Oh, no, no," he immediately replied. "Everyone's real nice and all, just… I don't know. When I'm here, I feel like I'd rather be out there with you and the others."
"Well, you're with us tomorrow?"
"Really?" His eyes lit up. "I hadn't looked at the job board yet. Who's coming too?"
Chelsea permitted herself a grin and said, "Yes. She is."
Ryan put on a terrible show of acting dumbfounded. "Who? What do you mean?" he sputtered. It was ridiculous.
"Come on," she pressed him. "It's clear you're into 'er."
"W-well, I… I just think she's nice."
"She is. An' geet lush, yeah?"
"Guh… geet what?"
In the most Oxford English she could manage, she said, "Cindy is a very attractive young lady."
"Ah, like that." Another piece of terrible acting when he said, "I can't say I've paid much attention, really."
Oh come on. "Ryan. You don't have to play dumb with me."
"Well," he began again. "She's… nice. And good-looking, yeah."
"M-hm. And you wouldn't mind getting' to know 'er better. Nowt wrong with tha'."
He chuckled uncomfortably. "I um, I'm not made of stone, I guess. And she's the cutest girl here, so…" He quickly realized something, and added, "N-not that you're not good-looking or anything! I mean – "
She grinned at him. "Wanker. It's fine. Like I said, she's a beauty, nowt wrong with tha'. An it is the apocalypse an' all, so best live while the livin's still goin' on."
Ryan leaned in. "Look, Chelsea. It's not even about that. I feel useless here. Too much time alone with my thoughts." He looked away. "I miss my family." His eyes watered up. "But I'm afraid that, if I allow myself to really miss them, you know, let it sink in… that I'll… I don't know. Be crushed by it all. If, if that makes sense."
She'd been a bit insensitive, it would seem, seeing only the hormone-ridden teenager and not the grief-stricken young boy who'd lost his entire family and was now torn away from everything he'd ever known, stuck in a shitty school with a bunch of shitty adults who all saw him as a child. It made sense that he wanted to go outside with them. Maybe it was the only way he could feel like he was growing up. "I'm sorry, Ryan," she told him. "An' I know what you mean. On the one hand, you know you need to give yourself time to grieve, but on the other… the thought of actually realizing that they're gone is terrifyin'."
He nodded slowly. "M-hm. It's like… I can only choose between letting the weigh crush me slowly, or letting it crash down all at once."
"Yeh," she said quietly. "It feels exactly like that." She tried not to think about her parents, in England, either dead or huddled somewhere like she was, not knowing what had happened to their daughter.
"They're um," he reached into his back pocket. "I still have this photo left."
He showed it to her and Chelsea immediately wished he hadn't. There were four people in it. Ryan's father, a blond man with a five o-clock shadow and a brown leather jacket that he'd most likely bought in an attempt to look younger and cooler. His mother, a brunette with barely perceptible crow's feet and the eyes of an adolescent, sunglasses on her head. His sister, an ash blonde teen grinning her bracers bare, the wind playing with her hair. Then Ryan himself, as she'd never seen him and never would. A good-looking, bright blond teenager, smiling with an arm around his sister, his face immaculate and pristine, not yet mutilated by the horror, grief and pain of this terrible time. "They…" she began hoarsely, then cleared her throat, "You look like an amazing family."
The tears flowed now, dropping down his cheeks onto the carpet tiles of the library. "They were. Are." He hid his face and peeped, "I miss them."
"I kno'."
He leaned over to her and put his head on her shoulder. When she didn't pull away, he put his arms around her and pressed himself tightly against her, hitching and sobbing. Chelsea was sure he wasn't taking advantage, so she let him hang onto her for a while. "It's alright, Ryan," she whispered. "Let it out, you'll feel better."
They sat there for a while, Chelsea giving Ryan the time to release the emotion he'd doubtless been repressing for days.
At length he let go, wiping his face. "Thank you, Chelsea. I uh, needed this."
If she was entirely fair to herself, feeling someone close to her was something she'd needed too. It was so easy to feel all alone in this shitty world, and a bit of human contact sometimes just gave one the fuel one needed to keep going.
He tried a shaky smile. "You smell nice, by the way."
"Thanks," she chirped, taking advantage of the moment to lift the mood. "Fleur de Bathroom Sink, my personal fragrance."
"Just goes to show girls don't need to put in much effort to smell good."
"Ah, what can I say? We birds 'ave our strengths too."
He looked at the ground. "You uh, feel nice too."
She chose to assume that was a harmless compliment and not a preface to more charged remarks and replied, "Course I do. Girls smell better, feel softer, snore less, and never 'ave to go to the bathroom."
"Seriously though. Thank you Chelsea. I know it was a bit presumptuous to um, you know. With you being the leader and all."
She snorted a laugh, "Bollocks to tha'. I'm one of you, only thing different about me is tha' I need to waste my time on fillin' out that job board. I'm just the clerk of the group if you think abou' it." She chuckled. "The administrative assistant."
"The unpaid butt monkey," Ryan grinned.
"Exactly tha'." But her eyelids really were getting heavy now. "Ryan, if you don't mind tho', I'm gan off to bed. I'm bloody knackered."
His eyes went wide. "Oh! Oh, of course, sorry, I didn't mean to keep you." She did read some disappointment behind his surprised eyes too, or was that just her imagination?
"It's fine, it's fine," she reassured him. "I'm glad you came to talk to me. I hope it helped."
"Yeah, it did. Thanks again."
"Pft," she blew, "no need to thank me. Wha' friends are for, yeah?" She rose. "Bu' now I'm really off. Good night, Ryan."
He stood up too, his eyes brushing past her boobs again. Ah, boys. "Good night, Chelsea. I don't care what anyone else says, you're an amazing person."
Wait, what? What had that remark been about? And earlier, Joel… "Ey Ryan?"
"Mm?"
"What'd you mean by tha'?"
He half-shrugged. "Oh, you know, you're always there for people who need it, you're kind, helpful – "
"Not tha'," she interrupted him. "But uh, thanks. No, I meant when you said you didn't care about wha' anyone else says."
"Oh," he replied, looking a bit awkward and searching for words. "No, I just meant, um, you know?"
"No, I don't. What'd you mean? It's alright."
"No, just, just, nothing specific or anything, I mean," he stammered, "Just, you know, that people, people always have opinions about others and I mean, you can't please everyone, probably?" he quickly added, "No one's said anything specific or anything, I mean, not to me or anything, people like you, just, you know, I just meant to say, if they did, I wouldn't care. You know?"
She felt her forehead knot into a frown. "Ryan. What are people sayin'?"
"Nothing, nothing," he quickly tried to reassure her, failing. "No one's said anything bad to me about you. I just meant if people did have problems with you, I wouldn't care. Sorry, I just said something without realizing how it might come across." He floundered for words a few moments more and then concluded, "I really didn't mean anything by it. Sorry Chelsea, I'm just an idiot."
She was only half-satisfied with the explanation, but she knew she wouldn't get anything more out of him, if there was any. "You're not an idiot, just… if I'm doin' summat wrong, I'd like to kno', alright?"
"Yes, yes of course," he said back. "But there's nothing, I'm just terrible at saying things."
She crossed her arms, unwittingly. "Hmm."
"But I did mean it when I said how nice you are. I envy the man who's worthy of you."
Despite her crushing tiredness and worry about those strange remarks, she couldn't resist saying, "What makes you think it'll be a man?"
The dumb look on his face was priceless. "O-oh! Oh! I… I didn't know you were…"
She let out a bout of laughter and said, "You silly goose. No, no, I'm an a lezzer or owt, just wanted to see your mug."
"Oh ho," he half-laughed, still embarrassed, "You had me going there." He wagged his finger at her. "You little tease."
Tease. What an odd choice of words. "Yeh, well, now I'm really off to bed, an' not even a bleedin' meteorite will stop me."µ
"Okay. Night, Chelsea."
"Sleep well."
She could have sworn she was asleep before her body hit the bed.