The Death: The Complete Trilogy Page 34

  “Are you decent?” a female voice asked.

  “Yes.”

  The glass door handle clicked and turned. The white five-panel door slowly opened.

  Lori sat erect in the bed. Her anticipation was running high on who would appear from the other side.

  A young woman, approximately in her mid-twenties, stuck her head in and asked, “Are you awake? Can I come in and check your bandage or get you anything?”

  Lori’s instincts told her to be grateful and sweet. The old adage of winning people over with honey versus vinegar was going to be her approach. “Hi, please come in.”

  The woman did just that and fully stepped into the room. “You hungry?”

  “I’m not terribly hungry, but can you answer some questions for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where am I?”

  The young woman was shy and had a hard time making eye contact with Lori. Her thick brown hair was worn like most women post-outbreak, pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her clothes, jeans and a sweater, were clean and in good condition.

  “You’re in my house.”

  “Where is that? What town am I in?”

  “Pine Bluffs but we now call it Hope on the account that this place is a sign of hope for all wandering and lost souls,” she said, reciting a line from the town’s new charter.

  “Hope, yes, I saw a sign on the road miles back.”

  “Oh, was that your minivan, the blue one we found on the road abandoned?”

  Lori’s eyes grew large with the question; she hesitated to answer but again thought it best to provide what information she could. “Yes, that was mine; the gas tank had a leak.”

  “How’s your head?”

  Lori reached up and touched the bandage again. “Good, I suppose. There was a man; I think he might have brought me here.”

  “That’s my daddy.”

  “Am I free to leave?” Lori asked, now probing to pinpoint her status.

  “Of course, you can leave anytime. Your clothes are right there.”

  “And my weapons?”

  “We gave them to the magistrate; he holds onto them.”

  “I see. Did your father tell you where he found me?”

  “Yes, at his old workshop.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, that’s what he told me. Is there more?”

  “No, I was lost, looking for—”

  The woman interrupted her and said, “No need to explain. You’re safe with us. We’re here to help.”

  Lori felt an odd feeling about the woman and the town. She kept running the same question through her mind, ‘What kind of place is so nice?’ It just didn’t add up. Every other person or group they had encountered hadn’t been so. Why was this place different?

  “How about that food?” the woman asked.

  “Sure.”

  The woman went to leave, but Lori stopped her. “Excuse me; I didn’t get your name.”

  “Sorry, how rude of me. My name is Tiffany.”

  “My name is Lori, thank you.”

  Tiffany left the room and gently closed the door, leaving Lori to ponder her situation.

  Lori jumped out of bed and went to the window. She pulled the curtains back. The sun was still high in the sky, but what day was it? The view from the window gave her some information on her location. She was in a first-floor room that faced the backyard. The wind was blowing the clothes and linen on the line in the yard. An old swing set lay rusted and broken in the far corner of a six-foot wooden fence line. Beyond that open fields stretched as far as she could see, and in the far distance an old power transmission line stood looking like a relic from a time gone by.

  Thoughts of Travis came, and she wondered where he was and if he was even alive. Needing to know, she would have to navigate her current development with care.

  A tap at the door drew her back. She said, “Come in.”

  Like before the door opened slowly, but this time it wasn’t Tiffany. It was the large man she’d seen before her fall. Startled that it was him, Lori hurried to the bed and climbed in. “I thought you were Tiffany.”

  “Sorry to startle you, not my intention,” the man said as he stood just inside the doorway.

  “Thank you for helping me,” Lori said.

  “You’re welcome. I felt bad about scaring you at the workshop. I seem to be good at that. Twice in one day.”

  Lori saw tenderness in the man’s hazel eyes. His bulky and muscular stature was at odds with his soft-spoken demeanor.

  “You’re probably curious what I was doing there?” Lori asked.

  “I’m sure you had good reason.”

  “Excuse me, Dad,” Tiffany said holding a large tray in her hands.

  “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, stepping to the side so she could walk in.

  Tiffany came in with the large tray.

  Lori saw a large steaming bowl of grits, but what most impressed her was the flower in the small vase.

  Tiffany placed the tray at the foot of the bed and said, “I hope you like grits with butter.”

  Lori stared in amazement at the large scoop of partially melted butter. “Where did you get butter?”

  “Oh, from the Briers’ farm,” Tiffany answered.

  “Looks great,” Lori said, her stomach responding positively to the food.

  “If you’re feeling better, the magistrate wants to meet you,” the man said.

  “So this magistrate is the leader of your town?” Lori asked, her attention still on the food, a large spoon in her hand.

  “Yes, he’s our elected leader. He’s a good man who’s given us everything.”

  “Given you everything?”

  “He’ll explain everything when you see him later,” the man said.

  Lori couldn’t resist the urge to eat; she took a heaping spoonful and blew on it.

  “Really good,” Lori said as she ate the grits. “I wasn’t the biggest fan of grits before, but this is really good. The butter is so creamy, and it’s seasoned nicely.”

  “Just salt, pepper, butter and fresh goat cheese,” Tiffany said, happy to see Lori eating and satisfied.

  “And the goat cheese is from the Briers’ farm too?” Lori asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll let you finish your meal. Let’s plan on leaving in an hour. The magistrate will want to see you before the trial,” the man said.

  Lori lifted her head from the bowl and asked, “Trial? Trial for what?”

  “A thief we caught last night,” the man answered.

  She knew exactly who they were referring to.

  “I’ll let you finish,” the man said.

  “What’s your name?” Lori asked.

  “My God given name is Daniel, but everyone calls me Brick.”

  “Thank you for everything, Brick,” Lori said.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied and left.

  While Brick and Lori chatted, Tiffany had left and returned with a stack of clothes. “Here, these are your size, but more importantly they’re clean. I’ll wash these for you, okay?”

  “Um, sure, thank you.”

  Tiffany exchanged the clothes and left.

  Lori tossed the spoon on the tray and pushed it aside. Her appetite had vanished the second she heard Brick mention a trial. There was no debate that the thief was Travis. Knowing he was alive was good, but how could she save him from what was no doubt going to be a conviction.

  The drive from Brick’s house to the town center gave Lori a perspective of the town that neither she nor Travis was aware existed. The pillars of local power were centered in the old Pine Bluffs city office building, and in order to access it you had to pass through another checkpoint. However, this other checkpoint was positioned just in front of a large twenty-foot-high gate. She hadn’t seen anything like it before.

  “Is the entire downtown walled in?” Lori asked Brick.

  “Not all of it, just eight square blocks.”

  “
Totally walled in?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As they drove through, she stared in amazement at the wall and gate that had been constructed.

  “It was quite easy to build; most of it incorporates existing buildings. All we had to do was build walls on the streets in between them and secure the building accesses.”

  “Very impressive, it’s like a fort, then.”

  “Yeah, you could call it that.”

  “Why do you live on the outside?”

  “A few of us do. Most live inside the walls now, but I found it impossible to leave the old place. Too many memories for me and Tiff.”

  Lori had not met a Mrs. Brick, so she assumed she must have died from the Death. She turned and watched as the massive wooden and steel-framed gate was wheeled back in place and secured. An old truck was connected to the gate on the inside so when they opened or closed, all they needed to do was drive the truck forward or backwards. As an architect, she marveled at the ingenuity of the townspeople. Along the exterior rooftops she saw armed men patrolling and sandbagged positions for the men to take cover if attacked.

  “Um, Brick, how many people are left in town here?”

  “Oh, about five hundred.”

  Inside the walls, the town lost its abandoned feel and took on something more idyllic. People were walking on the sidewalks, chatting and laughing. Children were running and playing in a large playground. Opposite them a massive garden was thriving on two old vacant lots.

  “You guys have done all this?” she said, marveling at what she saw.

  “Didn’t happen right away. We had trouble at the beginning like many did. The magistrate took control after the mayor and sheriff died. He was the one who pulled us together. We have him to thank for all of this,” Brick said, a sense of pride in his tone.

  They made a left turn, and a half block away she saw wooden gallows erected in front of the old Pine Bluffs city office building. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw them. This was evidence that the justice they served went as far as killing the convicted.

  “Who’s that for?” Lori asked, pointing at the large wooden structure.

  “Those souls who get convicted and sentenced to death. They find their last moments standing up there.”

  “How often does that happen?” Lori asked.

  Brick didn’t answer; he pulled the car into the rear parking lot and parked it. “We’re here.”

  She waited, hoping he’d say something, but he just didn’t. He got out of the car and walked around to her side. He opened her door and held out his hand.

  This was a clue to her that he was done chatting.

  He walked her inside the building. The contrast she saw from her care at Brick’s house to the heavily manned and armed group at the town headquarters was drastic. Inside, the halls of the office building bustled with activity; people came and went, all with purpose. The few that took notice of her gave her stares that extended past the normal glance. She imagined the gossip of a new person in town ran through town as quickly as the virus had spread.

  Brick instructed her to sit in a lobby while he informed the magistrate that she was there.

  She was still unsure of the story she’d give. Back and forth she went from telling the truth to telling a bold-faced lie in an attempt to save her from whatever judgment Travis would receive.

  Wringing her hands, she wished Travis was there to tell her exactly what to do. She wanted to do the right thing, but what was that? She had a life inside her that needed to be considered, and owning up that she was a party to the theft of a car could lead to something horrific. Clasping her hands, she began to pray for an answer.

  Down the hall she heard the front doors burst open.

  She couldn’t see who was coming, but the murmuring and chatter indicated it was someone important. Like the sound of a dozen hooves on pavement, the group got closer. She thought this must be the magistrate with his entourage, but it wasn’t. When the group reached her, she saw Travis handcuffed and encircled by four other men, all heavily armed.

  Travis saw her and slightly shook his head. He stared at her hard and kept shaking his head.

  She wanted to run to him, but she froze. The gesture he kept making with his head was a signal. He was speaking to her, but what was he saying.

  As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, taken to a back room.

  All she could think was he wanted her not to stand and acknowledge him. All he did was stare intently and shake his head. That was it, she thought, he wanted her to remain silent.

  Brick came back and said, “The magistrate can see you now.”

  Lori was staring at Brick but not moving. She was terrified of what was about to happen.

  “Lori, you okay?”

  “Ah, yes, I’m fine, sorry. Sometimes I zone out,” she quickly said and stood.

  “This way,” Brick said as he escorted her down the hall and into a large office.

  She walked in and stopped just a few feet inside. In front of her was a large mahogany desk with a massive window behind it. Two fabric chairs sat just in front.

  A man stood and said, “Lori, hello, please come in. I promise we don’t bite here. Take a seat.”

  She hesitated.

  Brick nudged her and said, “Go ahead, Lori. The magistrate is a good man. He just wants to meet you. He has a few questions, is all.”

  Lori walked the few remaining feet and sat down in one of the cushioned seats.

  The magistrate waited till she sat before he took his seat.

  With a broad smile he said, “Lori, very nice to meet you.”

  “Hi,” she replied.

  “Brick tells me he found you at his workshop just outside town,” the magistrate asked.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  The magistrate was a young man, much younger than Lori had guessed he’d be. If she were to guess, she’d say he was in his mid-thirties. He looked as if he was average height, with a lean build. His light brown hair was cut and styled very conservatively much like others she’d seen so far.

  “So how did you come to be there?”

  Lori thought of giving a short or terse answer, but it made sense to give him greater detail. “My car ran out of fuel. I saw the signs for your town, but who trusts towns these days? Needing fuel but wanting to stay away from people, I went looking in places I thought were vacant.”

  The magistrate leaned in and asked, “So you saw our sentries but chose to avoid them on purpose?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  The question irritated Lori, so she answered it honestly, “Is that a serious question? You’re asking as if you’ve never been on the road before. Have you been out there trying to survive?”

  He cocked his head and answered, “I’ve seen my share.”

  “Have you? To ask that question makes me wonder.”

  Brick stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Miss Lori?”

  “I’m fine, Brick,” she said.

  The magistrate sat back in his chair and rocked for a second. A grin appeared on his face as he looked at Lori. “Do you have anything at all to do with the man we caught trying to steal a truck last night?”

  This was the question Lori was waiting for. Everything boiled down to how she answered. Once again Lori was faced with making a decision that would be transformative in her life. Her heart was racing, and she knew without any doubt how she responded meant everything. Reflecting back to Travis and how he responded to seeing her, she knew how she needed to respond. “Mr. Magistrate, I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “I’m referring to a young man who came into town last night. He attempted to steal a truck but was stopped. So you’re telling me you know nothing of this incident?”

  “No.”

  He looked at her closely, examining her composure to filter out anything that would give him the truth.

  “Mr. Magistrate, I realize the timing is strange but
not unexpected. My car ran out of gas; I came looking for more fuel and food.”

  He kept looking at her, then looked at Brick. “What do you think?”

  “She seems honest to me, sir,” Brick answered.

  “I have nothing to hold you, and your trespass against Brick here, well, let’s say he’s not seeking justice for that. So without charges, I need to let you go.”

  The magistrate’s response to her gave her hope for Travis. She had thought the worst would happen, but her fears were dashed. Maybe the magistrate would be lenient on him as well, she prayed.

  “Was this a trial?”

  “Yes and no. You were already cleared by Brick, but I needed to meet you to confirm it. I needed to make sure your incursion into our town didn’t mean to fundamentally harm us or our people. You see, we do understand how the world works today. We know people naturally will come looking for food, fuel, medicine or whatever, like you. We offer those things to travelers like yourself; all you need to do is ask. We have created a place for anyone to find the thing that will enable them to survive. You see, we changed our name to Hope because we give that. The only thing is that you need to ask for it, not take it.”

  She thought his response seemed reasonable. This new world was harsh, and if he meant what he said, then his town truly provided hope and a sanctuary from the realities out there.

  “Why didn’t you go to the FEMA camps?” she asked, the question coming from her spontaneously.

  He recoiled from her question.

  “We are a self-sufficient people. We don’t need the government to protect us,” he responded.

  “No need for supplies?”

  “No.”

  “Good, you can’t trust them.”

  He smiled and asked, “Why don’t you trust them?”

  She wanted to tell him everything she knew, but now was not the time. While the magistrate seemed legit, she wasn’t prepared to put all of her trust in one person just yet.

  He was intrigued by her comment, so he pressed, “Why would you say that?”

  “I’ve been to those camps.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now you’re on your own?”

  “Yes, on my own,” she quickly blurted out. She had now created her story and had to stick to it. Showing any sign of hesitation could give her away.