The Bad Penny

Episode 3 of

The Drifter

An America Falls Serialized Novel

__________

Written by Scott Medbury

Copyright 2022 Scott Medbury

All characters and events depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Also by Scott Medbury

You can listen to my audiobooks free here: https://www.youtube.com/c/scottmedburyauthor

The America Falls Series:

Hell Week

On the Run

Cold Comfort

Rude Shock

Luke’s Trek

Civil War

Lone Wolf

Messenger (Novella)

The Rabid States Series:

Unleashed

Alpha Pack

Fox Hole

Standalone novels:

INGA

www.scottmedbury.com

Chapter 1

‘Open the gates!’ Alex roared up to Charlie, who vanished behind the fence, then reappeared moments later, pushing open the entrance to Bakerstown.

It would be the second time in three days that Ragland would enter the settlement in the dead of night, covered in blood.

Better be careful or I’ll start to make a name for myself, he thought.

Alex and Ragland marched through, helping Charlie shut the gates immediately, the crack of wood snapping to with a satisfying echo through the square.

Charlie, the young guard Ragland remembered from before, stared at him with wide eyes. He must have looked like a horror show.

‘It’s not ours,’ Alex spoke for them, his chest rising and falling rapidly. ‘Well not mine at least.’

The pair had jogged nearly the entire distance back to Bakerstown, and hadn’t encountered anymore cannibals.

Ragland wiped the blood from his neck, it coated his hand like a slick red grease.

‘We might have a problem.’

‘Yeah, you think?’ Alex replied.

Charlie turned his head between the two large men, pointing to Ragland’s bandaged ear.

‘What happened out there?’

‘Never you mind, kid,’ Ragland growled.

‘I’m no kid!’

‘The hell you aren’t.’

Alex shook his head.

‘Charlie. We need you back on watch. We need to go speak to Marly.’

‘But wh—’

‘Charlie…’

Alex’s hard look seemed to encourage Charlie’s reconsideration of protest. Huffing, he mumbled something under his breath and climbed back up onto the walkway, glancing down briefly at the two.

‘Come on,’ Alex said, tapping Ragland on the arm. ‘We need to go see her, now.’

Just like before, barely a voice stirred in the night. It had been too long since Ragland kept a timepiece on his person, but he figured the hour was late enough that visiting Marly meant waking her up.

‘Listen, kid. We can catch her up in the morning.’

‘No,’ Alex said, his stride almost a match for Ragland’s, as they marched through town, taking a few turns toward an area that looked to be more residential. ‘We can’t.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means we have a bigger problem on our hands than you think we do, old man. It means we gotta tell Marly ASAP.’

Ragland grabbed Alex by the arm and whirled him to a stop. The pair stood shrouded almost entirely in darkness beside a large stone building that must have once been a series of department stores.

‘What do you mean, a bigger problem?’

Alex shifted. ‘The cannibals.’

‘They’ve always been a problem.’

‘Not like this.’

Ragland ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Only forever.’

‘I know what a fuckin’ cannibal is, old man, don’t preach to me like I don’t.’

‘Oh? That right?’

‘They have leaders. Order. Even a government. They send out feral packs like scouts. Rangers. Looking for the most vulnerable settlements and people. People like us. Meat. Then the others move in force. More organized. More deadly.’

Ragland bit the inside of his cheek to avoid his face telling too much. Truth is, he had been away from people a long time. There were gaps in his knowledge..

‘You’re not kidding, are you?’

‘No. I’m not. This is the closest I’ve seen them, which is why we need to get to Marly.’

On the edge of Bakerstown, an old three-story house stood first in a neat row of others that looked identical, although more ramshackle. The garage, lot size, and the windowed loft on the home informed Ragland it had likely belonged to someone quite well off.

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said, wasting no time to indulge and stomping right up the main path to the front door.

Inside, in the top window, a light flickered to life. Shadows of candlelight danced across the ceiling. Ragland heard a staircase creaking underfoot a second or two before Marly threw the door open, her irritated gaze falling on Alex.

‘Where in hell have you been..?’

Her face softened immediately upon seeing Ragland, covered in blood and with a bandaged ear.

‘Well now, what’s this mess?’

‘Cannibals,’ Alex said, gesticulating urgently and stepping in front of Ragland. ‘More of them and closer than usual. I think we’ve got a problem.’

‘Hang on,’ Ragland said. ‘There was only the one...’

‘Only the one that we saw. You heard them too.’

‘Marly,’ Ragland said. ‘I’m sorry for the intrusion. Alex here has himself all worked up—’

Alex raised his voice and a few more lights flickered on in the houses opposite.

‘I’m not exaggerating! We have a problem, Marly. A big problem. We need to talk.’

‘Can this wait until tomorrow?’ she said, rubbing her eyes.

‘No, it really can’t.’

Ragland stood silent, not quite believing the discussion unfolding before his eyes. It had only taken him two days to stumble back into people drama. Two damn days.

Marly patted down her bed hair and looked up and down the street.

‘You best come on in then before we wake the whole town up with this racket. Come on now.’

The mayor led them into the open hallway, Ragland closing the door behind them. Marly picked up the candle she’d placed on the stand by the door before she’d opened it.

‘This way,’ she said. Alex and Ragland followed wordlessly, the soles of their boots drumming on the wooden floorboards.

She guided them down the hallway and left into a small room. The walls were lined with bookshelves, leaving space at the end for a window. In the middle sat a long table with coasters haphazardly placed on it.

Marly pulled out two seats, then walked around to the other side and sat down opposite. A hand motioned for them to do the same.

Ragland caught the smell of printed paper as he navigated the table, placing his backpack down beside his feet before sitting in the chair next to Alex.

Marly placed the candle on the table, casting an eerie glow over her features.

‘From the beginning. Tell me what happened. Alex, you go. We’ll get to you last, old man.’

Chapter 2

Alex began to explain how he had left to follow Ragland later on the day he had departed. A lot of the story came as a surprise to the drifter, and he was annoyed at being tracked without his knowledge and worse, that the kid had seemed to track him with ease. Still, he gritted his teeth and listened.

The tale continued until it reached a point Ragland hadn’t foreseen. Alex had been distracted by smoke in the southeast and had briefly veered from Ragland’s trail to investigate. Half a day in that direction he had come across a big encampment.

Turning back, he’d decided to catch up with Ragland and let him know he had been tracking him and warn him about the danger to the south. He arrived just in time to see Ragland deal with the surprise attacker. A lone cannibal.

‘A scout,’ Alex said leaning forward. ‘I think they were hunting for whoever had taken down their gang when they didn’t come back.’

Marly didn’t make a move once he’d finished but hadn’t beckoned Ragland to tell his side of events, either.

‘What did you take with you?’ she asked after a pause.

Alex frowned. ‘What?’

‘I’m asking, what provisions did you take with you on your little adventure?’

‘Er… I, er… took just a tin or two. Some wood. Flint. Other things.’

‘Supplies for how long?’

Alex didn’t speak right away, causing Marly to erupt.

‘I said for how long!?’

Ragland looked at her, his eyes widening a little.

‘Four days,’ Alex said, sinking into his chair.

Marly put her face in her hands.

‘You stole rations and equipment without sign-off. Do you know what sort of crime you’ve committed? And for what?’

‘For the right reasons!’ he protested.

Ragland decided to jump in. ‘Listen. Marly. Maybe cut the kid some slack. I think he got a little scared from the incident with Kit.’

‘I’ll give him something to be scared about,’ she said, pointing a finger. ‘You’ve betrayed my trust, Alex. I gave you that job as head watch on your promise to me. What was important enough to make it worth breaking? Huh?’

The teenager placed his hands on the table, eyes searching Marly’s. Ragland saw pain there. Clear remorse for his actions.

‘We all know about cannibals, Marly. But it’s been a long time. Most won’t see the danger. Some of the younger ones refuse to believe they exist at all. But you and I know.

‘I had a feeling that after Ragland killed their crew, they might come back looking for revenge.’ Alex wiped his nose. ‘This man saved her life. I love Kit. More than anything. I couldn’t just watch him go like that, because something in my gut told me they’d be hunting for him.’

Ragland looked at Alex. It had been many years since he’d been on the end of such a selfless act. The last one in fact, had saved his life. This one, no doubt avoiding further trouble altogether. Maybe the kid was right? It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that they were hunting whoever they thought responsible for the murder of their gang.’

Marly shook her head.

‘Sweet Jesus, Alex.’

‘I’m sorry, Marly. I really am.’

She ignored him, turning to Ragland.

‘Much of what he said true?’

‘I think so, from what I saw. Either I got very unlucky, or it’s possible they were hunting.’

Marly got up from her chair and started pacing back and forth, her petite form vanishing and reappearing in the dim light.

‘How? How could they have hunted you? Didn’t you tell us you killed them all? Kit confirmed it.’

‘I did,’ Ragland agreed, lacing his fingers. ‘I have a theory. It’s not a nice one, but maybe Alex here can build on it.’

‘Oh?’ she asked.

Alex frowned at Ragland. ‘What is it?’

‘These cannibals. You mentioned that, in these parts, they’ve grown organized. Care to expand on that?’

‘I can jump in there, cowboy,’ Marly interrupted, holding a hand up to Alex. ‘Back in the early years after the fall, this area had been lucky. Just on the other side, and even along the Appalachian ridge, fights went on every day. Factions and gangs of kids, digging in their heels.

‘It quietened down eventually, many of those who survived starved or got sick and died. A small band of us were from Bakerstown. Me, Claire, and Rahul are the founders of what you see now, I guess. We lived here before and got together to defend it from those who wanted to take what wasn’t theirs, but also to welcome those who needed refuge.

‘Eventually, we started to hear about a gang who were snatching people near the woods, killing and butchering them while they slept by their campfires. That sort of thing. It was hell. For a while, we were terrified to leave this place. It was then that we decided to fortify, and within a few years, we were completely barricaded from the outside world.’

‘Like it is now?’ Ragland asked.

Marly shook her head, licking her lower lip.

‘Not quite. A year after the wall went up, we lost a lot of good folk.’

‘They came,’ Alex interrupted, his eyes haunted in the low light. ‘The cannibals stormed the gates, tearing them down. It was all we could do to hold them back.’

‘We weren’t combat-trained,’ Marly continued for him. ‘But their numbers were smaller than they are now, and they were driven mostly by a shared hunger and desperation, and we got the best of them. Not before we lost a lot of our own though.’

‘How does this story factor into what’s happening now?’ Ragland asked. ‘With what Alex has said, they grew in numbers and got organized?’

Marly nodded.

‘That’s what we have heard and guessed. We’ve not seen many since. Only rumors of sightings now and then from traders, but always a long way from us.’

‘But you have your suspicions that they’re growing?’ Ragland asked.

‘Yes. Some of us.’

Ragland raised an eyebrow. As he did, the tightened skin pulled at the wound on his ear. The wet ooze of blood dribbled down his neck. A souvenir.

‘Some?’

‘Just a year ago, Alex here decided to gate-crash the local town meeting. He mentioned everything we have tonight but topped it off with a cherry most couldn’t stomach to swallow, let alone bite.’

‘What does that mean?’ Ragland turned to Alex, who had sunken further into his seat.

‘I suggested that the cannibals had developed a sort of society to rival our own. That they weren’t all just dumb eating machines like the feral ones, and that there were smart ones in charge and that we should prepare for them if they ever came our way.’

He held up his hands as Marly shook her head.

Ragland listened with interest. Clearly, they hadn’t heard of Norms and Zoms, but the kid had nailed it without knowing the titles they’d been given in other states. Still, the term “society” was a stretch. More like a few loose and scattered communities from what he’d seen and heard.

‘So, have you seen it with your own eyes?’ he asked, wanting to ascertain how the kid had come to his conclusion about the two tiers.

‘I have. Once. The bastard smiled at me, from a distance. I was out one day, checking the ridge with an old pair of binoculars. I could make out his face. Behind the smeared blood. Tattoos all down his body. He had one of the feral ones on a leash and winked at me.’

‘Winked?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Winked.’

‘That would have been a Norm.’

‘A what?’

The drifter went on to explain about Norms and Zoms and told them he had rarely seen a gathering of them larger than five.

‘Doesn’t mean Alex isn’t right about larger groups, I’ve just never seen it myself.’

The two locals digested that information for a minute before Marly clapped her hands.

‘Alright, that’s enough for one night, boys. Alex, go on home and get some sleep. Now, you sir, the Creaky is still free if you want to stay the night but make sure you shower before you bloody up the sheets.’

‘Actually, I might need to see Claire.’

Ragland peeled back the bandage to reveal the bite wound on his ear. Marly winced.

‘Well, I guess I can forgo any further sleep then,’ she barked, marching with speed from the room, leaving Alex and Ragland in her wake.

Chapter 3

The town doctor, Claire, was rubbing her eyes as she opened the door to her offices. Marly simply gestured to Ragland and when she saw the state of him by the candlelight, Claire made a low hissing sound.

‘You’re back? You’re like a bad penny! Not going to make this a habit, right?’

‘I don’t plan to, no.’

‘Thanks Claire. I’m going back to bed,’ said Marly. ‘I take it you remember where the Creaky is, Mr. Ragland?’

‘Sure do, thanks again.’

Ragland followed Claire through the waiting room to her office. He noticed that, aside from the absence of leaflets and computers, everything still looked remarkably similar to the way a family doctor’s did in the days before the Fall.

‘Place looks good,’ he said.

‘It wasn’t always like this,’ she said, closing the door behind him. ‘Sit.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

Claire tied her hair back in a ponytail, frowning at Ragland.

‘Don’t ma’am me.’

‘Okay,’ he said, forgiving her abruptness. He’d have been cranky too if someone woke him in the middle of the night.

‘So, cowboy, how did the other guy fair?’ Claire asked, peeling the bandage back to inspect the wound. It had stopped bleeding, and the teeth marks made a clear semi-circle encompassing most of the upper part of the ear, parts of it torn right through. ‘You’re lucky you still have it.’

‘Yeah, he didn’t fair so well, it was a goddamn cannibal.’

‘Oh? How many?’

‘Just the one.’

Ragland didn’t know if it was the flickering lamplight, but he could have sworn he’d seen a shadow of a smirk on the doctor’s face.

‘How did you let that happen? I mean, if it was just one?’

He clenched his jaw.

‘Snuck up on me.’

Claire stepped back from Ragland and reached into a cupboard. She pulled out a swatch of fabric, and a glass jar filled with clear liquid. Upending the bottle onto the cloth, she leaned in and dabbed his ear without warning.

Ragland flinched.

‘Jesus, what is that stuff?’

‘Moonshine.’

‘Moonsh—Ow!’

Claire added more to the cloth, cleaning the wound on his ear with thoroughness. Ragland winced and sucked in a breath.

‘Be quiet, you big baby. I’m almost done.’

He gritted his teeth, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally finished and went looking for some gauze. After a minute of rattling drawers and tossing their contents around, Claire returned with a small dish of greenish cream.

Ragland raised an eyebrow.

‘What’s that?’

‘An ointment to stop infection.’

He watched her scoop out a blob with her finger.

‘It doesn’t look good.’

‘Well, did you think we stockpiled a decade’s worth of antiseptic cream? It’s perfectly fine, no one’s died from it yet. Made from goldenseal.’

‘Goldenseal?’

‘It’s a plant. A leafy green that tends to grow further south. We’ve cultivated our own here. Saved a fair few folk here from losing limbs or worse. Sepsis doesn’t play around.’

Ragland was impressed, noticing for the first time that one whole wall of her office was lined with cabinets filled with ointments and medicine that also appeared to have been made locally.

‘Resourceful. I could learn a thing or two.’

‘Even an old man like you?’

‘Yeah, even an old man like me,’ he smirked. ‘I’m thirty-four, just so you know.’

‘Still, the oldest we’ve seen. Where do you come from?’

Claire started to apply the green paste to his ear. It felt cool and soothing, and the sensation robbed his thoughts from the question. His exhaustion didn’t help; the adrenaline from the fight had worn off, leaving him exhausted.

‘No comment?’

‘Oh, sorry. South. I’m from the south.’

‘South?’ she said, showing him a mocking smile. ‘Just south, is it cowboy?’

‘Yeah, why not?’

Another huff.

‘Hmm. Keep your secrets then, old man. Let’s close this up.’

She finished the application of the goldenseal paste, grabbed some of the gauze and fresh wrap, and cut a few small strips off with a pair of scissors.

‘Don’t move,’ she said, as she began to dress and wrap the wound.

Ragland obeyed, hoping her focus on treatment had let him off the hook. But, as she stepped away to admire her handiwork, she brushed her hands together and folded them under her armpits.

‘Come back day after tomorrow for a dressing change. So, you’ve been a whole lot of trouble in just the few days since you showed up. What’s the deal?’

‘Deal?’

Claire’s patience with his ambiguity hit zero, he could see it. She pointed to the door and looked down at the floor.

‘Go on. We’re all done here. You can be someone else’s problem.’

‘Thanks for patching me up,’ Ragland said, as he grabbed his backpack from reception where he’d dropped it.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pushing the door open and holding it for him. ‘Try office hours next time, huh?’

‘Will do,’ he said, tipping an imaginary hat as he went through.

Outside he inhaled a lungful of cold, fresh air. His ear felt better already, the pain having subsided to a dull throb.

Up above the hills, he spied the moon sinking low behind branches. If he had any luck left in the tank, he might catch a few hours’ sleep at the Creaky Motel. Shouldering the backpack, he took a quick glance back at the dark windows of the doctor’s office, bit his lip, and went on his way through the sleepy, dark streets of Bakerstown.

Sunlight was streaming through the windows of the Creaky when Ragland woke up. All things considered, he didn’t feel too bad as he sat on the edge of his bed. His leg muscles were sore from the run back, but his bandaged ear had gone from a dull throb to just feeling kind of heavy.

He thought about his next move. The overwhelming urge to get back on the road fought with a growing notion that maybe it would be better to hunker down in Bakerstown until he had more of a bead on the cannibal threat. He was sure Marly’s earlier offer would still be on the table, and he was happy to help out to earn his keep.

He went round back to where he’d had the shower on his last stay. A second shower in a week was unthinkable, especially given how cold the last one was, so he settled with lifting the lid of the barrel, splashing cold water on his face and smoothing down his hair.

Feeling rejuvenated, he wiped his hands on his jeans and went out into the street. It was still relatively early, and few people were about. He decided to head to Simon’s rather than disturbing Marly after her interrupted night.

He’d walked most of the way when he spotted Simon speaking with a man on horseback outside the café. The man bent and helped the Canadian take a sack that was laying over his saddle. Ragland hung back, not wanting to intrude, but the interaction came to a quick close, both men shaking hands before the rider turned and rode by Ragland, headed towards the gate.

Ragland gave the rider a cursory nod as he passed.

Out-of-town delivery? It made sense. Settlements over the years had redeveloped trade. So far, he hadn’t seen a distillery, so he could only surmise that Claire had gotten the stash of moonshine from a neighboring settlement.

‘Morning,’ Simon called. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again. No offense.’

He smiled.

‘None taken. Need a hand?’

Simon busied himself with the mysterious sack of goods and nodded to some crates stacked next to the wall on the sidewalk.

‘Sure. Why not. Good way to earn breakfast. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here, right? Folk love those honey oats.’

‘Just happy to help, but those oats were damn good,’ Ragland replied, bending and lifting one of the crates up, taking care to use his legs to take the strain. It would be easy to blow one’s back out—the thing weighed a good thirty or more pounds.

He followed Simon in, through to the back where he was stacking a walk-in pantry. Ragland was surprised to see small containers of ice littered about, preserving other goods, and even spied jars of milk amongst them.

‘How did you manage that?’ Ragland enquired, placing the crate down and stretching, checking out the ice with his fingers.

Simon smirked. ‘Old wild west trick. It’s why we keep Jennie around.’

‘Jennie? Sorry, I can’t remember—’

‘The chronologist here. She keeps track of all books and records.’

‘Right.’

‘So, we found a way to store ice during the summer,’ he explained, following Ragland back out to the street to collect the last of the food. ‘We carve up the ice from rivers and haul it back here. There’s a cave not far. We used that at first. Then, Jennie read about how they would dig great big holes and cellars back in the 1800s and cover the ice in straw to keep it cold enough through the summer.’

‘Jesus,’ Ragland said. ‘That’s impressive work.’

The two big men finished stocking the pantry, or what served now as a walk-in refrigerator, in quick time and stepped back into the main café/bar area.

Ragland took a seat at the nearest table while Simon navigated the kitchen, pouring oats into a large pot before filling it with milk and water.

‘Come to think of it, I heard about an ice cave just west of here. It’s a week-long hike, but…’

‘We did too. But it’s too far, and we can get ice locally without any risk. Besides, it’d melt before we got it back.’

‘True.’

‘No bother, eh? Look at us now.’ Simon’s smile was broad and lit up his entire face.

Ragland watched Simon cook and busy himself with kitchen prep for the day, in between stirring the big pot. He briefly considered mentioning the cannibal business, but it wasn’t his style. He didn’t gossip, and if anything needed to be announced, he’d leave it for Marly to do the announcing.

Simon had served up the oats, and he was about to take his first spoonful when Marly came through the door, the morning sun bathing her in its warm, yellow light to ensure the entrance was a memorable one.

‘Morning, Simon. Morning Josh.’

Ragland jolted at the use of his first name. He’d gotten used to others referring to him by his surname, and it’d stuck. Over the years, he’d fallen into the habit, whenever prompted, of giving his surname.

As unaccustomed to it as he was, it sure beat old man.

‘Morning,’ he said, taking a quick spoonful of his breakfast as she sidled up to him.

‘When you’re done with breakfast, can I have you for a few minutes? Now that you’ll be a Bakerstown resident for a while, I think it’s time we see where we can put you to good use.’

Ragland caught the edge of Simon’s smirk and raised his eyebrows at Marly.

‘Resident?’

‘Cut the crap, old timer, you’re staying put.’

His refilled spoon paused halfway back to his mouth. He’d already come close to making the decision to stay for the winter. He let Marly’s bold certainty push him over the line.

‘How’s Alex?’ he asked.

Marly flashed her eyes briefly to Simon, then back to Ragland, hands going to her hips. ‘He’s fine. All taken care of.’

‘Right,’ he said, looking down at the glistening streaks of honey in his oats. ‘Best get this porridge down me then, don’t want me passing out of hunger while you work me into the ground.’

‘Excellent,’ Marly nodded. ‘I think I know exactly where to put you.’

Chapter 4

‘Cabbages?’ Ragland asked, fiddling with his beard as he surveyed the small farm they’d made for themselves on the edge of town.

‘You got it in one, old man. That back of yours is not going to give up on us, is it?’ Marly quipped, grinning and sharing a laugh with a few of the other townsfolk, all in overalls and jeans, getting down and dirty in the mud.

Ragland held out his hand and she placed some well-worn gardening gloves in them.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘Good. And if I hear you’ve been slacking,’ she joked, after pointing out the row he’d be working on. ‘I’ll haul your ass back through the gate myself.’

‘Roger,’ he said, crouching down at the first cabbage, grabbing it with both hands and beginning to pull.

Before he could yank it free from the earth, a kid no older than fourteen stopped him. He wore dungarees and a brown cap backwards on his head.

‘No, like this.’

Ragland stood up and the kid stepped forward, flattened the large outer leaves to the ground, then wrapped his right hand around the main head, tilting it and slicing the stalk with the short knife in his other hand.

The boy tossed it into the empty wheelbarrow next to Ragland’s row, then moved to back to his own row.

‘Thanks kid,’ he said and got a smile in return.

Turning back to his own line of cabbages, he noticed a few of the farmers nudging each other and laughing.

Grumbling under his breath, still not quite able to comprehend the turn of events, he pulled his new knife from his boot and tried his luck with the next cabbage. Nothing to it, he thought and plonked it down in the wheelbarrow.

By midday, he was warmer than he’d felt in days and had discarded his jacket hours before. Now, with his sleeves rolled up, he’d gotten so involved with the work that he missed the call for a lunch break.

A small hand slapped his back, and Ragland peered up at the offender. It was the kid who had shown him the way of the cabbage.

‘What?’

‘We stop for food.’

‘Already?’

The kid nodded.

‘Sure. We got a lot more to do. Kale. Broccoli. Beets. Potatoes.’

‘Kale? Christ I’d rather eat…’

‘I think he gets it, Odin. Leave the poor man alone.’

The voice came from a black woman, her hair tied back by a piece of cloth.

Ragland nodded to her, which she returned in kind. He stood up, pulled off his gloves and walked to the end of the row and across to a small table. It was laden with plates of thick cut bread, and a large ceramic crockpot.

‘Hey there,’ said the woman who had chided Odin. ‘New here? Name’s Viola. Don’t mind Odin, he’s our special boy. He likes to talk. Always been that way.’

‘No bother to me. Kid seems a solid worker, helped me out at the beginning there. I’m Ragl… Josh.’

He saw Odin tap his arm repeatedly, then shuffle along to grab a piece of bread, which he placed against his lips for a moment, as if enjoying the texture.

‘What do you mean special? Something wrong with him?’

‘Oh no,’ Viola replied, grabbing a bowl next to the large pot. ‘Nothing wrong. We’ve read into it, and we think he has a mild form of autism. He struggles in the classroom, too.’

‘Is that why he’s out here with you folk?’

‘In part.’

‘He’s not a fan of school then?’

Viola shook her head, picked up a ladle, and scooped the steaming hot chicken broth into a bowl. Ragland’s mouth watered.

‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘Comes and goes. Some days he doesn’t mind the indoors. Somedays, he can’t stand it. But since he was young, he’s been great with his hands. Not always the farm. We get him to help on the building, too. Or sewing. Rahul has even taken him in as an early apprentice. You met Rahul yet?’

Ragland rolled his eyes, taking the ladle from Viola and serving himself a generous portion.

‘I have had the pleasure.’

‘Oh, you have, have you?’

‘Is he like that with everyone?’

‘Just strangers,’ she said. ‘He’s protective. One of the first to set up Bakerstown way back. Guy has done the hard yards.’

He nodded. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge Rahul. After all, he was a stranger in a world grown more paranoid about the nameless.

Viola grinned.

‘You won’t have hurt his feelings. Rahul’s one of the toughest here.’

‘Hell yeah, he is.’

A stocky guy a few inches shorter than Ragland had spoken. He pushed past one of the other harvesters and began ladling the soup into his bowl like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

‘This is David,’ Viola said, her voice tightening. ‘He’s one of our hunters.’

‘Best in Bakerstown!’ he roared, placing his soup down to feign shooting an arrow from a bow.

Ragland held out a hand for him to shake, but he either missed or ignored it, instead grabbing a slice of bread, dunking it into the soup and then into his mouth without missing a beat.

‘Incredible!’ David said, around the food in his mouth. ‘Simon does it again.’ He seemed to notice Ragland again. ‘So, you’re the new one?’

‘Yup,’ Ragland replied, shuffling along with Viola to grab a piece of bread.

‘Killed those cannibals a day south?’

‘Yep.’

David laughed.

‘You don’t talk much, do you? What’s up with that?’

A man much taller than Ragland rocked up to the table, grabbing his soup, followed by another two very muscular-looking guys, all wearing thick winter jackets and carrying guns, axes and bows.

‘Maybe he doesn’t like you, David,’ one of the men said. He was a tall black man with a deep voice.

‘Ah, can’t be that, Travis. Just can’t be. Everyone likes me.’

Viola snorted.

‘You may be good with a bow, David, but you sure are full of shit.’

The men, including Travis, laughed. He shot them a menacing look and the laughter petered out. Turning, he noticed Ragland watching him and the scowl swiftly morphed into a humorless smile that was somehow more menacing.

This time, David held out a hand.

‘Nice to meet another hunter.’ He gestured to the men. ‘This is Travis, Viola’s brother. Big boy here is Matthew. Some call him Blackbeard. Can you see why? Haha and yeah, this is Sang-Hoon. Don’t worry, he’s Korean, not Chinese.’

Travis thumped him, and Viola hissed.

‘Come on, man.’

‘Ah!’ David held his hands up in mock apology. ‘Sorry. He’s a good boy. He’s one of the good ones.’

Sang-Hoon held out a hand of his own to Ragland.

‘Just call me Sang, friend.’

‘Friend?’ David scoffed. ‘You only just met the asshole.’

‘He saved Kit,’ Sang replied.

‘And? Kit is always getting into trouble. Why should he get the blowjob welcome party? I mean, he could be anyone, right? No offense. Say, what’s your name again? Joshua, right?’

Ragland had practically crushed the bread in his hand as flat as pitta.

‘That’s right.’

‘Right. Okay, well, good to meet you, Josh,’ he said closing the space between them until his face was inches away from Ragland’s. ‘We’ll keep in touch. You see, we’re a bit like protectors here in Bakerstown. We keep an eye on our own.’

Viola had heard enough, judging by the hand on her hip.

‘Cut that shit out, David. Travis, why do you hang around with this jerk?’

‘He’s got a point, sis.’

David laughed, stepping away from the newcomer and thumped Travis on the shoulder, causing his soup to slosh onto the ground.

‘Yep. Come on. Let’s go eat. See you around, Joshua.’

The four men left, Sang the only one to give Ragland a half-smile. They strolled over to horses hitched up by a tree and walked back toward town, still holding their soup and leading their horses with them.

Ragland turned to Viola.

‘Care to explain why I haven’t met that crew before?’

‘They were probably out hunting,’ she said. ‘Best you keep away. If you think Rahul doesn’t like strangers, you haven’t dealt with the Baker’s Boys.’

‘Baker’s Boys?’

‘Mhmm. It’s what they call themselves.’

She and Ragland sat down and began to eat their meal in silence. He was hungry enough to let the topic hang for a moment, eager to fill his stomach and forget about it.

Once he’d mopped the last of the soup up with his flattened bread, he wiped his mouth. ‘They some sort of local gang?’

‘They seem to think so, but no, more like a militia. Yes, David’s an asshole, but generally they mean well. Of course, they can get carried away… looking for purpose, I guess.’

‘Aren’t we all?’

Viola gave Ragland a quick glance, then smirked.

‘You’re a man of mysteries, aren’t you?’

‘Don’t know about that.’

No sooner had they stacked their empty dishes into a box next to the food, when Marly appeared, Kit at her side. Ragland could tell by her face that sleep and food had worked wonders. She wore a mustard beanie over her dark hair and a meek smile.

‘Hi all, how’s the work?’

A chorus of nods and choice words from all the farmers greeted their mayor. Marly seemed satisfied, as she walked over to Ragland and Viola.

‘How’s everything going?’ Marly asked.

‘All good,’ he said, then nodded at Kit who gave him a half-smile.

‘He’s not slowing us down too much, if that’s what you’re getting at, Marly.’

Viola and Marly both chuckled, Kit still watching Ragland.

‘Good to hear. Well, I just wanted to pop by. We’ve got another keen pair of hands who wants to muck right in. That good with you, V?’

‘It sure as hell is. How’re you feeling, Kit?’ Viola asked, getting up and putting a hand on her face affectionately, checking her over.

Kit smiled.

‘Much better. Like, totally different.’

Marly raised her hands up and clapped. ‘Alright then. I’ll leave her in your capable hands. If you could swing by with the yield numbers later, that’d be great.’

‘Sure thing,’ Viola called back, Marly already a few strides toward the road. ‘Oh, check on David and the boys, will you?’

‘Why’s that?’ Marly shouted.

‘They’re down Jack’s, probably. Getting their game seen to. You know what they’re like.’

Ragland saw Viola tilt her head towards him. Marly seemed to get the gist of what her friend was saying and waved.

‘Loud and clear, V. See you later.’

‘What was that all about?’ he asked.

She took Kit over to the field, finding another pair of gloves for her. ‘Never you mind. Lunch is over. These vegetables don’t pick themselves.’

That night, as he readied for bed as weary from the hard day’s work as he’d been in a long time, he was disturbed by a light knock on the door.

It was Marly and Alex.

‘I’ve decided to send a team of three on a scouting mission to see exactly what we might be facing if these cannibals decide to pay us a visit.’

‘I see. Who would that be?’

‘Young Alex here, he knows the territory as good as the hunters, and two of them. Travis and Sang.’

‘Just scouting?’ he asked, looking at Alex.

‘Yeah. Just scouting…’

‘I made it clear that they are not to engage, just find their location and numbers if they can, and then get the hell back here.’

‘Good. Sounds like a plan.’

Marly looked at him carefully and he wondered if she was waiting for him to volunteer. Truth was, he was enjoying the farm work and having somewhere to call home. He was in no rush to hit the road again, especially in the company of others.

‘Okay then,’ she said, after a pause and stood up. ‘Just thought you’d like to know.’

‘I appreciate it,’ he said, and then to Alex, ‘Don’t take any chances out there.’

Chapter 5

The next three days passed without trouble for Ragland as he helped the rest of the townsfolk make sure the approaching winter didn’t freeze their food in the ground.

Each morning, a step outside the Creaky Motel seemed to greet a deeper chill than the day before. His morning routine led him down to Simon’s to enjoy a half measure of coffee—fresh merchandise from a long cart ride down to the southwest.

Ragland hadn’t had coffee in years, and Simon mentioned it was a delicacy for them in these parts too. It took a long time for the supply team to travel, but despite the risk, it had always worked out well so far. Simon explained they didn’t just come back with coffee, but rice and other old-world trinkets and bits and pieces, too.

‘Our traders go well-armed,’ he explained one morning. ‘They take weapons and things to trade; Rahul is making quite a name for Bakerstown steel. If things get nasty though, well, they know how to handle themselves. And coffee sure boosts the morale around here.’

Ragland was inclined to agree. On the fourth day, he’d really gotten into the swing of things, meeting Viola and the others down in the dirt to pick potatoes now that the cabbage and kale had been farmed.

With half a week under his belt as a Bakerstown citizen, his face had grown familiar to the local folk, earning the occasional nod and wave from some. He got on well with the butcher, Jack, and stopped for a chat with him whenever they passed each other. He even had the pleasure of sharing an all-too-brief talk with Clint, the teacher, who, even though he was at least ten years younger than Ragland, was knowledgeable about the old world.

But his heart had been softened by the farmers. Odin especially, who had taken a liking to him and always found a way to make sure he was next to Ragland when they were picking.

Viola hadn’t missed it. On the fifth day, just after lunch, she giggled on the way back to the field, nudging him.

‘Might want to start calling yourself Thor.’

‘Why’s that?’ he said, slipping his gloves back on.

‘Odin has grown fond of you very quickly. Must be your calming influence, I guess.’

Ragland looked over and spotted Odin pressing his hands into the dirt and watching the earth pour off his fingers. Then, once it had all returned to the ground, he did it again. Then the kid looked up at him and smiled.

‘Maybe he does, but wasn’t Odin Thor’s father?’

Viola laughed again.

‘Probably, sorry, Norse mythology isn’t my strongest topic…’

On the sixth night, with the sun tucked behind the hills and the inky-black sky studded bright with a billion stars, the townsfolk had gathered at Simon’s Bar, for a harvest supper to celebrate the end of the season. They filled the sidewalk with wooden tables and erected additional torches and firepits.

Marly had extended the invitation to Ragland, who felt just as comfortable after a long day in the field as spending the evening alone in his shack, getting shut-eye.

‘Not on my watch,’ she had said, jabbing his chest with her little finger. ‘You did good this week. Plus, Simon has a surprise. You won’t want to miss it.’

Simon’s surprise turned out to be a large batch of beer brewed right in Bakerstown. It had been the best-kept secret for months. Normally the lubrication on offer at the supper was mulberry wine or moonshine, so it created a buzz of excitement, with the sea of faces smiling. Before anyone could take a good sip, Marly raised her stein into the air, surrounded by her people.

‘To Joshua Ragland. For making Bakerstown his home—at least for a while—and for some mighty fine work on the farm. Here, here!’

A chorus of cheers erupted, and everyone clinked their steins and drank as if dying of thirst. Ragland tipped his gingerly, not having had an alcoholic drink since he was 22.

‘You didn’t have to say that,’ Ragland said, savoring the sweet, hoppy taste.

‘Oh, I sure as hell did,’ Marly replied, nudging him. ‘Not too bad for an old man, you know?’

They both smiled. Simon, busy at the bar, nodded to Ragland and shouted over.

‘Like it?’

Ragland raised it up as a salute.

‘It’s great.’

The big man went back to serving his friends and family. From behind the same crowd of people, David materialized and ambled over to Ragland. He looked between him and Marly, as if contemplating his choice of words.

‘You sure you should be toasting this guy, Marly? We don’t know a goddamn thing about him.’

‘I recall you were always a troublemaker back in the early days, during the fighting. But I gave you a second chance. And a third. Still here, ain’t ya?’

Ragland bit into his cheek to stop himself from smirking. David hadn’t seen the quick reply coming.

‘That’s not the same thing,’ he stuttered.

‘He’s proven himself. He’s worked hard. Earned his keep. You did the same, David.’

Out from Ragland’s left, Jack the butcher appeared, rubbing his hands to keep warm and eyeing up the bar for a beer.

‘Just got Rufus and Charlie all set up on watch. Is there a problem here?’

David shot him a withering look, taking a large gulp of his beer, letting the drips slick his chin.

‘What do you make of the old man, Butcher?’

Annoyed at being spoken about as if he wasn’t there, Ragland kept his cool, not moving an inch, but watching David’s body language for any sign of aggression. No one else had noticed anything over the noise of the crowd.

‘He saved Kit. What else is there to say?’

‘So he says,’ David replied.

Marly and Jack jumped in at the same time. Jack asked what the hell that meant, and Marly told him to relax and ease up on the drink. It had been a long time since any of them had taken in any volume of alcohol.

But Ragland’s deep voice broke through their retorts, drawing David’s attention.

‘Listen, there’s clearly something you’re not happy about. That’s fine by me. You don’t have to like me, and I don’t have to like you. So, there’s Nothing stopping you from heading back to your buddy.’

He nodded in the direction of Matthew, the one they called Blackbeard, who loitered near the back of the bar.

David took a step forward. The two stared at each other, tension suddenly palpable in the air. Ragland placed his beer down on a table and drew himself to his full height, his hands slack by his side. Just as David squared up, the sound of piano filled the room.

The tension melted away as the bar started to bounce, people dancing and spinning each other around. With barely any room to move, David and Ragland were quickly jostled apart and swept into the mix. The man’s stare conveyed more than words ever could to Ragland. It was a look he’d seen in men before. The look of a killer.

Chapter 6

The headache the following morning was almost worth it. Ragland peeled himself out of bed in the early hours before the sun had rose, throwing on his jacket and gloves, before meandering his way through Bakerstown in search of nothing in particular except for fresh air and respite from his spinning head.

Ragland’s wandering took him back to the gate, where Charlie and Rufus were still standing watch, the low mumble of their voices barely audible from the ground.

‘Mind if I join you boys?’ he asked, craning his neck.

Two heads appeared, dark splotches against the moonlit sky. There was a brief conversation.

‘Sure,’ Rufus said, tapping the ladder. ‘Come on up.’

Ragland climbed his way up and hoisted himself onto the wooden walkway. When he stretched to full height, he towered over the two teenagers. Rufus’ eyes widened and Ragland smiled to put him at ease before turning to look out over the trees—textured smudges in the dark—highlighted by the three-quarter moon.

His warm exhale produced a cloud of vapor.

‘You have one of those hangover things?’ Charlie asked, leaning on his bow which was almost the same height as him.

‘Something like that,’ Ragland replied.

Rufus chuckled.

‘Alex gave us a little beer. Haven’t felt like that before. So that’s what you old folk used to drink before the fall?’

‘Hey, kid, I ain’t old,’ he said, pointing at his head. ‘You see any grey hair?’

‘No offense,’ Rufus shrugged. ‘But you’re the oldest person we’ve seen, literally ever.’

Charlie backed him up.

‘It’s true. Sorry dude.’

Dude? Ragland pressed his thumb and middle finger into his eyes and rubbed them. It did nothing to alleviate the pain, so he gave up and looked down at their water flask.

‘Mind?’

They shook their heads, still grinning, and watched as Ragland took a few thirsty gulps, spilling some onto his beard—a tangled beast that could do with some taming.

He handed them back the flask, gripped the edge of the fence, and watched the world in silence for as long as it took to let the nausea and spinning subside. The first tinge of dawn crept over the top of the hills, slowly illuminating the dark woods in the orange, yellow and rust shades of late autumn. It was a pretty sight.

‘Is it true?’ Rufus said, around a yawn. ‘That you, er… you know, fended off, like, twenty cannibals on your own and saved Kit?’

Ragland raised an eyebrow.

‘What?’

Charlie thumped Rufus in the arm. ‘Not cool, dude.’

There it was again. Dude. It sounded foreign to his ears; he hadn’t heard the word in years and to hear it from a pair of kids in a small Pennsylvania settlement a clean decade after most of the population had been wiped out, amazed him. Especially when they would have been about five years old at the most during The Fall.

‘What have you heard?’

They both started to speak at the same time, which only frustrated Ragland more. He put up a hand.

‘One at a time, boys. What have you heard?’

Rufus looked at his friend Charlie, who nodded. He went onto explain where he’d heard the rumors. It sounded to Ragland like a classic case of embellished Chinese whispers. Just talk and town gossip that grew in grandeur every time it passed from one person to another.

‘Okay.’

‘So, it’s true? You really did that?’ Rufus said, his eyes wide.

Ragland shook his head.

‘No. A quarter of that. And it’s not like the stories out there. It’s messy and it’s hard. And you never get away clean. Rarely. Don’t think about any grand adventures or trying to be a hero. Your friend Kit thought the same, and if I hadn’t gotten lucky, you’d never have seen her again.’

Charlie and Rufus nodded, seemingly sobered, then looked over to the ladder, which was creaking as someone climbed it. Ragland turned, half expecting David’s face, but it was Kit.

‘So, am I, like, interrupting anything?’

‘Nope,’ said Ragland.

He watched the boys shuffle aside to give Kit room to climb up onto the crowded ledge that ran the length of the Bakerstown’s southern perimeter. A perfect platform for recon, hangover recovery and gossip.

‘I was just telling your friends that grand adventures out there,’ he gestured out over the forest, ‘aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. In fact, they’d be silly to go off without the right preparation or telling someone.’

A small smile creased her lips. She wore a thick puffer jacket Ragland hadn’t seen before, jeans, and the same hiking boots as before. Was this a morning stroll or something else? She seemed well-slept and prepared.

‘Does that make me silly?’

‘Yes,’ Ragland said without hesitation.

She rolled her eyes.

‘Harsh, old man! But fair.’ He was relieved that their awkwardness after his departure seemed to have been forgotten. ‘So, I’ve come up with a solution for that.’

He eyed her.

‘Don’t get any ideas about going out there again.’

‘Oh, for sure. At least, like, not yet. I figured I just needed a bit of training, you know?’

‘Training?’

‘Yeah, so I can kill the cannibals when they come.’

Ragland groaned, Charlie and Rufus looked back and forth between them, clearly excited at the prospect.

‘This conversation is over.’ Ragland nodded to the boys, and climbed back down the ladder. Once on the ground, he made it about twenty paces up the street before Kit caught up.

‘I’m only asking for you to train me. Don’t you think that it makes sense?’

‘Sure. If you want to get yourself killed.’

Kit huffed, jumping in front of Ragland and crossing her arms.

‘You’re not fooling anyone, old man.’

Ragland stopped, tilting his head back and silently counting to ten. When he looked back at Kit, he saw a bitter determination. An expression he’d seen plenty of times years before. His hand went up subconsciously to touch the onyx pendant but stopped himself.

Kit had noticed.

‘I’m not her, you know? Like, I’m my own person.’

‘You’re not going to stop, are you?’

Her eyes were resolute, and he would have bet money that she’d picked a up lot of her ways from Marly.

‘Nope. Not until you agree to train me; especially if you buy half of what Alex has been saying.’

Ragland noticed movement further down the street and narrowed his eyes as he peered over her shoulder. A figure disappeared into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared. He wasn’t sure if it was paranoia, however from the person’s build, he thought it might be David.

‘Fine,’ he conceded, splitting his attention between her and the place the mysterious lurker had disappeared. ‘We’ll meet on the far end of town, near the fields. Bring a bow and some arrows.’

‘Yes! You won’t regret it. So, like, when do you want to start?’

‘Now.’

Kit paused, not quite believing him, then darted away at a run, down one of the side streets, toward the home she shared with Alex. He began to walk again, perhaps spooking the lurker who materialized from the shadows briefly before disappearing around a corner.

Hooded though they were, it was David, he was almost certain.

Fully awake, the ebb of his hangover subsiding, Ragland walked to the corner, giving it a wide berth in case of ambush, and looked up the street.

Nothing. He was gone.

What is that man’s gripe? Ragland puzzled.

No matter. Clear headed without last night’s infusion of alcohol, he decided that if David started trouble, he’d go to Marly and set things straight. He was the stranger in town, not David, and the last thing he needed, with the possible arrival of a horde of cannibals, was to provoke the town into kicking him out.

Chapter 7

When Kit arrived, she had the bow and arrows as requested but argued that maybe they should move straight to hand-to-hand combat.

‘I already know how to shoot an arrow. Didn’t I catch you two nice turkeys?’

‘Sneaking up on a fat wild turkey and sticking it from ten feet is different to shooting at a person, especially if they are running at you waving an axe or a blade.’

She couldn’t argue with his logic.

‘Alright, show me your form,’ he said.

The two had found an open piece of land by a tall cedar; the earth was filled with roots and therefore had never been farmed. Ragland had marked the tree with a piece of flint, chipping away some of the bark to make a circular target about eight inches across. Then, after much protest that she could shoot from further, he’d convinced her to stand only twenty feet away.

She lifted the bow and nocked the arrow, drawing it back to her cheek and aimed at the cedar.

‘Okay, stop! That won’t do. Let me show you.’

She rolled her eyes and passed it to him. Ragland lifted Kit’s bow and pulled the bowstring back, pulling until it ran dead-center from the tip of his nose and down the middle of his chin.

‘See how it runs straight, nose to chin?’

‘No one shoots like that,’ Kit protested, chewing at her thumbnail. ‘They hold it to their cheek.’

‘Well, they’re doing it wrong.’

‘All of them?’

Ragland dropped the bow and looked back at her.

‘Yes.’ Then rubbed his eyes. ‘No. Not technically. Do you want to learn proper form or not?’

‘Well yeah, I kinda like, don’t wanna die, you know? Or almost die. Not like before.’

He passed the bow back to her, along with one of the three arrows she had brought along with her. They had been handcrafted by someone in the town, judging by the wood of the shaft and the not-so-clean fletching. The tip, however, was sharp and purposeful.

‘Here, you go. I want your left arm bent slightly, notch the arrow and pull back to your chin like I showed you.’

‘Alright, gramps.’

She laughed, copying his instruction.

‘Okay, I think I’m ready,’ she said.

‘Then loose.’

‘What?’

‘Shoot the damn arrow, kid.’

And she did. It sailed through the air, hitting the tree trunk with a deep thunk, missing the mark completely, a good half foot below the rough circle. Her sound of exasperation made Ragland smirk. It was only her first go, and she’d landed it in the tree. Most would have done worse.

‘Okay,’ he said, walking up to Kit and kicking her feet with his. ‘Set these apart and stand more side-on. Try to aim a little higher there, too. Here you go.’

Ragland passed her the next arrow. This time, Kit’s attempt made it within three inches of the mark. She spun around on the spot; her mouth open.

‘Oh, my God. Did you friggin’ see that shit? I’m a natural.’

‘Steady on,’ he smirked, raising a hand. ‘Plenty more to learn. Take another shot, then collect the arrows for another round.’

He sat on the grass as she went to retrieve the arrows. He half expected her to call him for assistance, as they were embedded deep in the wood of the cedar, but as stubborn as him, she worked and pulled at them until she had collected all three.

Of her next three shots from forty yards, three were on target, one just missed.

‘Not bad kid, not bad at all.’

‘Not bad? I am friggin’ awesome!’

‘Well, don’t get too carried away. You had skill before, but now that you have the correct technique, no turkey will be safe.’

‘Your technique helps, I guess,’ she conceded.

‘I want you to practice more on your own this afternoon. See if you can get some more arrows, maybe have a friend doing retrieval so you don’t wear yourself out. Do ten from thirty feet. If you get them all, then move out to forty. When you can hit the target ten times in a row from forty feet without a miss, you’re ready.’

‘Easy-peasy.’

‘Do you remember what I told you about the second arrow when you’re being rushed?’

‘Yep. Don’t try to shoot, just use it as a stabbing weapon.’

‘Good. Now we can move on to self-defense in close quarters.’

Ragland picked some soft ground, away from any protruding roofs, and faced Kit, rolling up his sleeves.

‘Next, we’re going to learn what to do when the fight gets a little closer.’

‘What, like kung-fu?’

Ragland raised his eyebrow. ‘No. Not exactly. I want you to walk up and try and punch me.’

Kit’s face changed.

‘Huh?’

‘Punch me. Try to, at least.’

‘Are you, like… are you serious?’

‘Haven’t got all day, kid.’

She positioned herself, clenching her fists, then charged forward, hurling a knuckled blow toward the left side of his face. Ragland stepped to the left at the last moment, grabbed her arm, and yanked it down gently. With the momentum of her missed punch, Kit went flying, sprawling into the ground.

‘Hey!’ she said, coughing and getting back up, dusting the dirt from her coat. She unzipped it and tossed it aside. Ragland did the same. They would start to build up quite a bit of heat from the workout.

The corners of his mouth went up.

‘That all you got?’

Kit tried again, falling foul to the same trick. On the third go, the same. But on the fourth, Ragland stepped the other way, into Kit and remained still, his arms outstretched. Her body collided into his, sending her stumbling backward.

‘Hey, what gives? I thought you were supposed to be showing me how to kill and stuff?’

‘I am.’

Kit rolled her eyes, kicking the grass.

‘Yeah, right. You’re just being a jerk. I can take it, you know. Just show me the moves.’

‘These are the moves. It’s not about spinning kicks and uppercuts. It’s about evasion and protecting yourself. You can’t kill anyone if you’re dead.’

‘Fair point, I guess.’

‘Come at me again, but this time, do it slowly, and I’ll show you why.’

Kit bared her teeth, moving the hair from her eyes and clenched her fists again, ready to fight. She stepped in, slowly this time, and threw a half-hearted punch at Ragland. Matching her speed, Ragland stepped left from the punch, drawing her arm in the same direction as her momentum, and jabbing his fingers to her ribs.

‘Look what I’ve done here.’

Kit stopped, lowering her head around to look at his stiffened fingers.

He prodded her side.

‘If I had something sharp, it’d be over. I could do it here, here, or even here.’

Ragland prodded various points of her ribs then let her go. She looked disheartened as she straightened her shirt.

‘Fine,’ she said, finally. ‘So, show me what I’m supposed to do.’

‘First off, kid, you’re not meant to go on the attack. You wait. You bait them if you have to. Let them go for the attack first. My dad always said that you never attack first, but if they ever start something, you always end it.’

‘Very wise and shit, ain’t ya?’

Ragland shook his head at her little dig.

‘Wax on, wax off…’ She raised her eyebrow. ‘Never mind. Anyhow, he was right. Now, let’s get to business.’

For the next hour or two, until their stomachs grumbled for a breakfast they’d skipped, Ragland taught Kit how to duck away from an array of different punches, how to lock an arm, and how to throw a proper punch.

By the time he was done, Ragland was sweating, even though the day wasn’t hot. Kit looked like she could go for another hour.

Grabbing up their equipment and jackets, the pair headed back into town, Kit thanking Ragland for the training, before turning left from the main avenue. He fancied a cool off under the shower before eating and headed toward the Creaky Motel, which had somehow become his home. It was the first home he’d had since the early days hiding out from the invaders in abandoned houses, sometimes for weeks at a time.

When he reached the Creaky, he stepped in, threw his jacket on the bed, and reached over to the cabinet for the bar of soap and towel Marly had provided.

The crack across the back of his head was sudden. It dazed him, and he sprawled over the top of his chest of drawers, the soap skittering across the floor. Dazed, he put a hand up to the back of his head, his fingers coming away slick with red.

‘Son of a bitch…’ he cursed, starting to get up before another heavy blow came across his back.

A pair of large hands grabbed him from behind, hurling him into the wall. The whole building shook as Ragland crashed to the floor and got to his hands and knees, looking back at his assailant.

David.

He looked like a man possessed—eyes alert, face red, fingers twitching. Behind him was Blackbeard. Ragland got up slowly, feeling the back of his head again.

‘You don’t want to do this, buddy.’

David pulled a knife from under his jacket and held it up to Ragland.

‘I think I do, asshole.’

David came at him, swinging the blade in quick swiping motions. Ragland backpedaled, and his attacker missed most of his attempts before finally catching Ragland on the arm. He cried out and gripped the wound, blood oozing through his fingers.

‘Stop,’ Ragland panted, bending over slightly and holding out his blood-soaked hand.

The local closed in to finish the job, deceived by Ragland’s phony surrender, throwing all his weight behind the thrust. The drifter saw it coming a mile off; he side-stepped, caught the knife arm and rabbit punched David in the ribcage. He was rewarded by a sharp yelp of pain and the thug spun out of his grip, clutching at his side. His knife arm wavered as he tried to catch his breath from the unexpected blow.

‘Oh, you are fucking dead old man… oomph!’

Ragland hit him hard. It was a good old-fashioned rugby tackle, his shoulder catching the local in the midriff and sending them both hurtling into Blackbeard.  The force of the crash tackle sent them bursting through the door in an explosion of wood and splinters.

Cries of surprise and shock met his ears, and looking up, he spotted Marly in the distance, running towards them as he wrestled David for the knife. Blackbeard rolled away when he saw the mayor, but David was still fighting for control of the weapon.

‘Stop!’ Marly cried, as Ragland finally shook the knife free of David’s hand and pushed his forearm down onto his assailant’s throat.

The blood-streaked Ragland looked up as Marly approached, her face blanched white with shock. Before any of them could say a word, the whine of a siren filled the air, accompanied by more shouts and cries of alarm.

What now? Ragland wondered.

‘That’s the warning siren at the gate,’ Marly said.

The words were barely out of her mouth when Charlie sprinted into view and ran towards them. He stopped by Marly, bending over to catch his breath.

‘The gates,’ he panted.

Ragland eased the pressure on David’s throat when the other man didn’t try to make trouble, but he wasn’t ready to let him up just yet.

Charlie’s eyes widened at the bloodied state of the drifter and David.

‘Who, Charlie?’ snapped Marly. ‘Who’s at the gates?’

‘Peter and Alex and the hunters. They said the cannibals are coming—a whole damn army of ‘em!’

The End of Episode Three

Don't miss Episode Four: Lynch Mob available here

Also by Scott Medbury

You can listen to my audiobooks free here: https://www.youtube.com/c/scottmedburyauthor

The America Falls Series:

Hell Week

On the Run

Cold Comfort

Rude Shock

Luke’s Trek

Civil War

Lone Wolf

Messenger (Novella)

The Rabid States Series:

Unleashed

Alpha Pack

Fox Hole

Standalone novels:

INGA

www.scottmedbury.com