The No Where Apocalypse (Book 4): Searching No Where Read online

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Violet nodding. “There can’t be more than 20 people there,” she said, pointing at the assemblage. “I only count four tents, and they’re all open-sided. Where could they possibly sleep?”

  I began walking again, signaling for her to follow. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

  The only good thing that came out of Sleeping Bay was our hasty leaving, and that made it sound like we hung around and told stories, maybe shared a beer or two with the lifeless group.

  All 22 inhabitants stunk — body, mind and soul. They couldn’t be blamed, I guess. Unfortunate circumstances ruled their lives.

  Year two of the end of the world brought illness to the camp. “The fever”, they called it, but that was what everyone called it. Whether it was some undefined bug, the flu, or something as simple as dysentery, the world had a lot of fevers nowadays.

  A camp of more than 50 living, thriving souls watched as people died until their ranks numbered in the high single digits. Worse yet, no one wanted to come and fill in with all the vacant spots. Not with the fever claiming a new soul each week.

  After ridding themselves of the last victim in the summer of year three, a new scourge found them. Ruffians and robbers from the northern reaches of the peninsula decided to make Sleeping Bay Fish Camp their bitch.

  A new load of supplies arrived by boat, the thieves showed up the next day. At first, the camp’s leaders tried to reason with the groups. Several murders later, they simply handed them what they wanted, which was mostly everything.

  My new friend Kirk Fager from the former Porcupine Mountain Ski Resort sent a team to the rescue from time to time. But the bandits became wise to their arrivals and departures and simply waited them out.

  “As you head north of here,” a man named Smythe told us as we were ready to leave, “be on guard. They’ll take everything from you, those thieves. And if that leaves you in a tough spot, well they won’t give a damn.”

  “Do you have any men you can send with us?” I asked, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

  “I got two guys headed north,” Smythe replied. “They’re headed for Beacon Hill. Hope to trade some time there for a few extra bullets. We’re damned near out. Stinking thieves.”

  Good enough. Two and two made four, and instantly doubled our force.

  Day 1,161

  The nicest man I had ever met in our circle along the lake was a man named Joe Poole. The minute we met, he shook my hand and gave us both a hearty smile, the kind that makes you feel good about people, about humanity.

  And yet…

  The nastiest man I had met on my journey, our journey, didn’t even warrant a name. Not a proper or family assigned name. “Satan” would have fit him well. “Lucifer” was even more fitting. But this vile man went by the name of Peter Dreck. And he and Violet didn’t get along, not one bit.

  So these were our two travel mates to Beacon Hill Fish Camp. Jesus and the anti-Christ. The Pope and Joseph Stalin. At least they each carried guns. I guess that helped.

  We met Joe first and I instantly liked the middle-aged, mild-mannered man. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Reiniger,” he said in an easy fashion. I told him to call me Bob.

  Next he shook Violet’s hand. “Mrs. Reiniger,” he said just as nicely. She didn’t bother to correct him.

  “I’ve got a tent for you two because it will take us a couple days to hike the 14 miles to Beacon Hill,” Joe stated. “Peter and I will take turns standing guard and watching the fire. Everything should be fine.”

  As he finished, a thin man about my age sauntered into range. “Hey there, Slim,” he greeted me, patting my stomach as he passed. His sights were set elsewhere and he made a beeline for Violet.

  “Hey there, good looking,” he shouted, causing Violet to blanch. “How they hanging today?” Oh, what a piece of work Peter was.

  Violet pushed past him and made her way to where Joe and I stood as Peter picked at his teeth. “That one’s a real charmer I see.”

  Joe shrugged and shot us an apologetic grin. “You could say that Peter’s kind of an acquired taste.”

  Violet rolled her eyes and snorted, “I could also say Peter’s an asshole.”

  Joe nodded, glancing at me. “Yeah, that he is.”

  “Say, Slim,” the less-admired one said joining our discussion, “you must like them real young. That’s cool, I can see you’re a guy who gets what he wants.”

  I stared at the man, trying to decide the best way to deal with such a prick. “Just how old do you think I am?”

  He looked me up and down several times. “About my age, 30-ish I’d say.”

  I nodded. He was close. As far as I knew I was 29, but without a calendar or a way to appropriately mark time, I wasn’t sure anymore.”

  “And how old am I?” Violet asked in a nearly civil tone, which was more than the man deserved.

  He made several loops around her, pulling on his bare chin and playing with his faded red seed corn hat. “I’m pretty good at this,” he bragged before venturing his guess. “I’m gonna say 14, and I’ll eat this hat if I’m more than a year off.”

  She smiled at Joe and me before turning back to Peter. “Well, you are absolutely spot on. You are good at age guessing. You should have worked in a carnival.”

  Peter gloated for a moment, playfully joking with Joe. Violet inched closer to me.

  “The only thing he’s qualified to do at a carnival is take tickets,” she whispered, grinning as she spoke. She noticed my grin as well. “And what makes you so happy, you cradle robber?”

  “I feel vindicated,” I replied. “I’m not the only one now who believed you’re younger than you are.”

  Her grin faded to an intentional pout. She leaned close to me. “I don’t think you should be comparing yourself with that degenerate, Bob. It doesn’t speak well for you.” She punched my arm and left to retrieve her pack.

  “Oh, baby,” Peter exclaimed. “She’s a feisty one. You got a keeper there, Slim.”

  Watching Violet slip her pack over her shoulders — her grin on full display for my benefit — I noticed she checked her rifle to be sure there was a shell in the chamber. I feared for Peter’s safety.

  Day 1,161 - continued

  I heard the impact on the tree above us, and covered Violet as large hunks of bark showered down on us.

  “That one was closer,” Violet nervously whispered. “They know where we are.”

  She was right. And it was worse than that. From our hiding spot, I realized the undergrowth was mighty sparse. As in, there was no way for us to sneak out and take off in a new direction.

  The only way to retreat was to risk wide-open exposure to the people hunting us, hoping they missed as they fired from close distances. But I knew they were good shots; they’d already proven that.

  Joe took the first blast. I assumed it struck him in the gut because he bent forward, almost in half, right after we’d heard the shot. I immediately covered Violet, pushing her towards the forest where we sought to take harbor in. Peter returned two volleys before his gun was finally silenced.

  From our position in the sparse woods, I could see Peter’s lifeless body lying face up on the road. He wasn’t much of a man, but he deserved a better death than that. Joe had made it to the ditch. I hadn’t seen movement or heard even the faintest of moaning since he fell.

  Another shot rang out and more bark fell. I had a feeling they were getting closer; not a good sign for us.

  “What do you want?” I shouted during a lull in the shooting. “Just tell us what you want and we can go from there.”

  Not far off in the distance, I heard a man chuckle. “We want whatever supplies you have,” he shouted back. That much I had pretty much figured. “And we want the girl. We can trade her for supplies somewhere.” That was a problem.

  Violet glared at me. “If they get too close,” she whispered, grabbing my collar for emphasis, “shoot me. I don’t want to be traded for any s
upplies. Not for them.”

  Yeah, pretty much as I expected. “You can have our packs,” I shouted, “but we get to leave unharmed. Deal?”

  A number of shots answered my counter-offer. Our hiding spot grew smaller.

  “I think that’s a no,” I said to Violet, trying to get a read on their positions and numbers. Everything had happened so fast. One minute I was listening to Peter sweet talk Violet, which wasn’t going well on his part, the next thing we knew, guns were firing all around us.

  In the end, here we sat — sitting ducks.

  We pondered our predicament, scanning the area for an escape route.

  “Maybe we can crawl on our bellies deeper into the woods,” Violet said. Behind us, it was thicker, but we’d have to make it a strong 30 yards before we reached any brush dense enough to hide us.

  I surveyed left, then right, looking for a better option. “Any direction we go, our asses are going to be exposed for too long. And I don’t know how many there are of them. You?”

  She rubbed her elf-like nose for a moment before answering, “At least three, maybe as many as five. Just before we got to the tree, I looked back and saw a number of them.”

  “And I haven’t been able to even get a shot off yet,” I added, squeezing at the butt of my gun. “Every single time I peek around this tree, they shoot.”

  “We need to do something, Bob,” Violet urged. “It’s too long to nightfall. We’ll be dead way before that.”

  “You two ready to give up?” the same voice called out. He sounded closer. If he got much closer, he’d be hiding behind the tree with us.

  “Just give us a minute,” I replied, glancing at Violet. “We’re discussing our options.”

  Several men laughed, and they didn’t sound very far away. “Take all the time you need,” one chuckled. “You got 30 seconds.”

  Oh, that really helped. Impatience from them and a nasty glare from Violet. Just perfect. A fitting end for my life. Shot to death by a band of thieves lost in a place that made No Where seem like downtown Chicago.

  My partner pushed at my shoulder, bringing me back to the moment. “Do something.”

  Shaking my head at her, I tried to get a peek at our hosts, only to receive a couple of gun blasts that whistled past my head.

  “And what would you suggest? Aside from giving up?”

  Violet proved just how helpful she could be under pressure. She rolled her eyes and huffed at me, “Maybe you could be a decent protector and shoot those bastards.”

  Another gunshot punctuated her angry rant. “Times almost up,” someone laughed. “Talk faster.”

  Grasping Violet by the shoulders, I stared into her eyes. “We’re going to die here today. Let me rephrase that; I’m going to die. You might be okay,” her mouth fell open at that part, “but I’m most certainly about to die.”

  She nodded twice and leaned in close, touching her forehead to mine. She probably wanted one last kiss, and given my 20-second life expectancy, it probably was a good idea. But her lips slid past mine, over my cheek, and to my ear.

  “Quit being so dramatic and stop whining. Get your gun out and kill those bastards.” A quick peck on my cheek and her eyes steeled, staring into mine.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “But I hope there’s only three of them. Otherwise this probably—”

  She snapped a finger against my lips. “Quit talking, start shooting.”

  I peered around the tree. “Hold your fire,” I shouted, staring into Violet’s eyes. “I’m coming out.”

  This had to be my dumbest plan ever. But considering who I was with, what did I expect?

  Day 1,161 - continued

  I rose, expecting a flurry of gunfire to drop me in my place. But no one shot. That was a good sign, I figured. Peeking around the tree, I could see two men, perhaps 20 or 30 yards away, laughing at me. Probably not a great sign.

  I inched around the tree into full view of our captors. “Shit,” I muttered. “Shit.”

  There weren’t three of them. There were eight. Triple shit.

  The two closest men slowly made their way towards me. “Where’s the girl?” one with a mouthful of brown teeth asked.

  “Let’s talk,” I replied, holding my hands up. “Let’s just discuss this for a minute.”

  “Or…” the man continued, smirking at his nearby friend. That one had long, stringy hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in months and a beard that had probably never seen a pair of scissors. “Or, we can just kill you and take her. I don’t think we need to have any sort of discussion about this. Give us your damn packs and send the girl out.”

  A pseudo-plan began to form inside my mind that might extend my time at least another 30 seconds, if I was lucky.

  “If you kill me, she’ll shoot herself,” I replied, letting my hands slide down. “Then she’ll be no good to you.”

  Watching their faces twist and turn, I noticed I had the leader’s attention.

  “Okay, you got 10 seconds to state your case,” he said, eyeing me carefully. Okay, maybe I’d overestimated my remaining time.

  “You can have our packs,” I said, noting his face go sour. “And…” his gun raised, “and I’ll give you my 45. How does that sound?”

  His perturbed look remained unchanged. “We’re taking all that anyway, and the girl.” He stepped closer and took aim at me. “So get her out here and we’ll talk about you living.”

  This wasn’t good. Of all the pickles I’d found myself in over the past four years, this one had all the appearances of my final stand. It looked like Violet and I were about to part ways.

  The gunshot startled me; made me almost pee myself. Somehow he’d missed from less than 10 yards away. When the second man fell with the next burst of gunfire, I realized someone was ambushing them and I was safe to jump back behind my tree.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up from a lying position. “Who’s shooting?” Violet demanded.

  Like I knew. All I could figure out was that we had a momentary reprieve from certain death. Well, my certain death. It sounded like Violet would be traded for something better.

  “I don’t care,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here before we’re next.”

  The second we poked our heads around the tree, another round of gunfire broke out and we fell back to the ground.

  “Maybe we can give it a few seconds to cool down out there,” Violet said with a funny little smile. “No sense in getting caught in their crossfire.”

  I seconded that. We listened, nodding at one another with each shot. Something like, Aren’t we so smart? We know enough to not stand up when someone is shooting a gun nearby.

  “Damned rotten, thieving varmints!” someone shouted from near the road. Not that either of us bothered to look to see who was talking.

  Violet eyed me skeptically. “Who’s that?”

  I sneered for some reason, maybe the stress and all. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask with all the bullets and stuff.”

  “You can come out,” he shouted.

  Ha, not likely.

  “It’s safe now.” Doubtful, I thought. The shaking of Violet’s head told me she felt the same.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, sounding closer than before. “I killed half the bad guys; the other half ran off.”

  Shit, it sounded like he was pretty damned close to our hiding spot. We were right back where we started.

  “We aren’t going out there,” Violet vented in a whisper. “No way, no how.”

  “My name’s Magnus,” he continued. “Magnus Larsen. It’s okay to come out. I got no need to hurt you.”

  “Hurt us?” Violet shouted. Why couldn’t she ever keep quiet? “You mean like you killed those men out there?” Okay, she had a good point.

  “Why would I go about shooting those people,” we both leapt as he eased his face around the tree and stared down at us, “if I wasn’t trying to help you?”

  Above us stood
a monster of a man, even taller and larger than Thomas Jefferson from back in Ontonagon Fish Camp. And though he was smiling, we weren’t.

  A large hand shot forward. “Hi, I’m Magnus,” he repeated. “In case you weren’t listening.”

  God, I hoped he was sincere. Because I’d hate to be choked to death by that hand, I thought.

  Day 1,161 - continued

  Standing next to Magnus, I had to crane my neck back to look into his eyes. Though Violet hadn’t wandered too close to him, I doubted her head rose any further than his sternum, if that.

  I envisioned his hair to be red, but it was brown. I thought he’d have a great big beard that spread out like a fan from his face, but he was clean-shaven. I also expected him to smell like an uncleaned boy’s locker room; however, he was much worse than that.

  I noticed it before Violet. Her face went crooked when my arm shot up top cover my nose. Seconds later, the air changed around her as well. Yet he seemed to take no offense and made no mention of our obvious reactions.

  “Say, Magnus,” I began, circling around the monster of a man, trying to get upwind, “what is that strong, rather unique smell that follows you around?” Like smoke from a fire, his smell followed me around as well.

  Pulling his shirt to his face, he gave a great whiff. He shrugged and smiled some more. “I don’t really notice it no more. But you're probably smelling either fox urine or raccoon shit, I suppose.”

  Violet had taken to plugging her nose, most likely to stop from puking. “How charming,” she said, keeping her voice low enough for only me to hear. “The ladies must love that.” That time, she addressed Magnus directly.

  Great, she was about to be the death of us. Just like I always thought she would.

  Still, he seemed to take no offense. “I’m a tracker and a hunter, ma’am. I had a lady once upon a time, but she up and left me one day.” He smiled, nodding between the two of us. In my mind, he was sizing up which of us to eat first. “Now I can’t say if it was my lack of manners, or smell, or general disposition that caused her to leave. But she’s gone nonetheless.”