September 6
The truck wound through back roads and abandoned highways for hours. They flew past forests and fields, deadheads looking for a bite, burnt out wrecks, nothing the state chamber of commerce would put on a postcard.
Night had fallen by the time they rounded the final corner, a massive field of lights laid before them. In the distance, Harlan could see a massive complex.
"Is that a shopping mall?" He asked Meghan through the cab's window.
"Yup, Crossroads! They finished building it in '88 on some old farmland."
"You're really staying in a shopping mall?" Anthony was incredulous.
"Yeah!" Meghan shouted with enthusiasm as the truck rumbled past a darkened movie theater. "You should see all the great stuff we got. All kinds of stuff. This place is terrific!"
The shopping mall was enormous. The lights illuminated the clouds above it, like a small piece of a glistening heaven had fallen to earth. He wished Hilda could've seen it. Junior remained quiet most of the ride, but this sight elicited a "wow!" from him.
"So much for a safe haven." Carr grumbled.
"What do you mean?" Anthony said, peering at the mall. "Oh."
Up against the bright lights of the mall must have been the largest horde and of them had seen since Rosewood's prison broke open. No one could get a clear idea of the size, but hundreds of hands stood out.
"Nothing to worry about, folks." George called from the cab as the truck veered across the parking lot and past the horde. They swung around to a darkened part of the mall, suddenly lit up by spotlights. A garage opened and the truck glided inside, the door shutting immediately behind them.
Before anyone could speak, several armed men had their guns trained on them. Junior screamed and clung to Anthony.
"Hold your horses, they're good people." Meghan stepped out of the cab as she waved her hand down. "Do you want a gun in your face, Carl?" She pointed at one man in particular.
"No?" He asked, letting his rifle fall slack in its sling.
"Exactly." She turned to face the others. "Fallas Lake is dead, that smoke is from a gas explosion at the old Fossoil station. But it wasn't all for naught." She stuck her hands out to the group as they dismounted the truck bed. "We found some new friends!"
Harlan and Anthony waved sheepishly at the men as Junior hugged Anthony's leg. Carr merely nodded. George stepped out of the truck last, his work boots clumping to the floor as he stood.
"They should meet Cal, first." He said.
"Right, Mrs. Carr, Harley, and uh… Andrew, follow me."
"It's Anthony." He muttered as the group was lead through a furniture shop and into the atrium. There were people, dozens of living, breathing people. Tons of them. All walking around the mall like it was a normal Monday evening, complete with dull muzak echoing through the pearly halls. The only thing that stood out were the armed guards.
That, and the sound of undead fists banging against the doors. It was faint, but omnipresent. The sound made everyone a little uneasy. Meghan sensed this.
"They'll never get in. We blocked all the entranced with trucks. See?" Down one of the mall's promenade, Harlan could see the side of a truck emblazoned with the Spiffo's logo. "Everything else is shatterproof. We're as safe as houses."
"How the hell are you powering an entire shopping mall?" Anthony asked as they walked past a toy store. A few kids were playing inside, flanked by women with pistols.
"A whole lotta prayer." Meghan laughed. "And some fat ass generators underneath us." She paused and stomped her boot on the linoleum floor. "After everybody lost power in the blizzard, they put those bad boys in. They're brand new."
"That's a stroke of luck if I've ever heard of one." Anthony mumbled as he noticed people staring at the new faces. Their faces. "Where do you get all that gas?"
"In my experience Tony, bad takeout." Harlan joked.
"Right!" Meghan snapped her fingers. "Tony, Tony, Tony. I'll remember that." Anthony rolled his eyes, accepting he wont get an answer out of her.
"Can I play?!" Junior asked as they group boarded an escalator.
"Later, kiddo." Meghan said. "First you gotta meet the Governor."
"Governor?" Harlan raised his eyebrow.
"Yessir, Fairweather himself is here to keep us in line."
Anthony's eyes widened. "You mean the governor Fairweather?"
"What're you, president of his fan club?" Harlan jabbed Anthony's arm.
"Hell no, we were covering his re-election campaign before we were sent to cover the blackout." Anthony shoved his hands in his pockets as they reached the mall's second floor. "After the cleanup scandal I really doubted that-"
"Too late now!" Meghan cut him off. "We've all got bigger fish to fry than some old military mumbo-jumbo." She lead them through a glass door to a receptionist sat behind a desk. Her graying hair was pinned up high. "Is Cal around? We have fresh meat." Harlan cringed ever so slightly.
The woman at the desk lowered her glasses to size up the ragtag group. "Where'd you find this lot?"
"Fallas Lake. They've been survivin' on the road all through this joint."
"We were in Rosewood for most of it, actually." Harlan corrected her.
"Y'all are a mighty far ways away from home, then." The receptionist pulled a walkie-talkie out from under her desk and spoke into it. "Governor, we have some new folks in town who would like to meet you."
A garbled voice replied, "Thank you, Caroline. Send them in." She gestured to the door and Meghan lead them through.
Inside the dingy office stood a thin man, about halfway between Harlan's height and Anthony's. He smiled wide through his beard, it was graceful, well practiced.
"Welcome to our humble home!" He held his arms out for a moment before clasping his hands together. "I am Cal Fairweather, former governor of the great Bluegrass State and current governor of Crossroads." There was a beat of silence. "Miss Meghan, wont you introduce our guests?"
"Oh, uh," she stumbled, "This here's Harley Delgado, we went to high school together back in the day." Harlan held his hand up. "This here's… Tony? He's a yank." Anthony narrowed his eyes at her, then nodded to the governor. "And this here's-"
"Matilda Carr, pleasure." She nodded as well. Harlan never knew her first name was Matilda.
"She taught me English!" Meghan interjected.
"Not so well, I see." The governor fired back. He leaned down to look at Junior. "And who's this littlun?" Junior hid behind Harlan.
"My nephew, Harlan Junior."
"Your nephew is... named after you?" The governor looked up at Harlan.
"It's a long story."
"We have plenty of time." The governor leaned against his desk, christening an awkward silence.
"So, my sister, Hilda, thought I died. And to honor me, I guess, she named her only son after her assumed-to-be late little brother." He fought the image of her gnashing teeth, the heft of her body writhing to get a bite. "We lost her today, actually." His voice trailed.
"Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear that, son." The governor sat behind his desk. "Death is a part of life, sadly, and we don't let it stop us from living. What did you do before?"
"Before?"
"Before all this." He waved his hand around.
"I uh, I was a firefighter up in New York. Moved there right after school."
"Yeah, he up and abandoned us." Meghan chuckled.
"I got an education is what." Harlan retorted.
"And what about you?"
"Educator." Carr stated. "But I know how to handle myself out there."
"I worked for Triple-N." Anthony explained. "We were covering the exclusion zone from Louisville when we were overrun."
"A journalist, eh?" The governor frowned. "Not much use for them these days. What else are you good for?"
"I uh, I'm good for-" Anthony stammered. "I can fight. I can run. I can do whatever's necessary."
The governor didn't seem convinced. He steepled his fingers under his nose.
"He can definitely hold his own." Harlan piped up. "All of us can, with maybe the exception of Junior." He tried to read the governor's face. "We were in Rosewood when everything went to shit, we've been running for days."
"Rosewood?" He perked up. "You're telling me y'all were in Rosewood this entire time?"
"Yeah, until the prison broke open." Carr said. "There were hundreds of inmates, or whatever was left of them. They flooded the town and we had to make a run for it. That's when we met up."
"Did you happen to… smell anything? When this apocalypse began?"
"Uh, pardon?" Harlan was confused.
"A rotten smell, a foul odor. Permeated everything under God's sun." Harlan really couldn't remember.
"I think so? I was fighting for my life, I didn't really notice."
"Interesting." The governor pulled a notepad from his desk and jotted something down. "If you folks plan on sticking around, I think we can all get along. Even your Yankee friend." He winked at Anthony, who fought against making a face.
"Great!" Meghan shouted. "Let's get you folks set up with your own quarters."
She lead them back downstairs and into a department store. Furniture displays had been reconfigured into sleeping quarters separated by sheets, shelves, anything for a semblance of privacy. Meghan left them in a small area with four twin mattresses laid out and the quartet dropped what little they managed to bring with them.
Once eager to play, Junior was fast asleep. Carr, too, couldn't resist the sandman's allure. But Anthony and Harlan still had some energy to burn, going on a brief walk around the mall's main floor. Harlan lit a cigarette.
"What do you think?" He asked between puffs.
"I think you should quit smoking." Anthony waved a hand in front of his nose.
"No, I think we really got it made here." He took another puff.
"Even if it's with… other people?" Anthony's tone was uneasy.
"Isn't being with other people the point?"
"I mean, yeah, but we can't like…" Anthony's years of writing news copy didn't provide him the words to explain.
"We can't what?"
"We can't be intimate." Anthony glanced around and put a hand on Harlan's back. "This isn't New York. If they see us being buddy-buddy, I'm worried that-" Harlan pulled him into a kiss.
"Worried about what?" Anthony hesitantly pulled himself away.
"Worried we'll get kicked out."
"Kicked out?" Harlan laughed. "Why?"
"Fairweather is a fucking bigot, that's why." Anthony crossed his arms. "Half his campaign was fire and brimstone about 'sinners' and 'traditional values', and he gleefully took funding from the American Family Association."
"And you think, with the actual living dead, he'd rather toss us to the horde than have a few extra hands?" Harlan smirked. "Even with some limp wrists?"
Anthony didn't say anything. Harlan held his hand, he tried to pull away but relented.
"Hey, I love you Tony." He stopped them in a quiet corner of the hall. "I really love you."
"I love you too Harley." Anthony ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried, is all. What could happen to us."
"I'm worried too, but if there's anything I've learned today it's that life is short and I've spent too much time not living it to the max."
"I know what you're getting at," Anthony began, "but we need to hedge our bets. We're still in this together, but we need to be conscious of when and where. You know?"
"I know, Mister Yankee." Harlan slapped Anthony's rear-end.
"Don't call me that, please." He laughed.
"I'll stop if you take a puff." Harlan held the cigarette out, there was maybe a single hit left. Anthony studied it for a second.
"Mister Yankee needs to sleep."
And with that, the two men kissed one last time before returning to their cramped quarters. Anthony fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the floor.
Harlan laid awake for some time, thinking about the incredibly taxing day they've had. He thought about Hilda and how she must be watching over them right now. He thought about his dad. He thought about a lot of things before slipping into a dull, dreamless sleep.