Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

“We found a few things for you guys while we were out scouting for campers,” Amanda said. “I’m pretty sure we found some clothes that will fit you, big guy.”

“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” Fred said. “You have no idea how much more uncomfortable these shorts are after digging in the dirt for the last few hours.” He looked at me and asked, “Okay with you if I change right quick?”

“Nah, get after it,” I said. “I can get someone else to drag this with me.”

Fred’s voice thundered out through the field as he advised the others to get their butts over to help unload the jeep. Those people who weren’t out with Jake looking for food, such as Alish, Barbara, Jeff, and all of the kids, spilled out from various nearby areas to help unload. Meanwhile, Oscar had run up to grab the other end of the plywood sheet and nodded to me to get moving.

“Thanks,” I said as I started walking. “These things are heavier than they look.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Oscar. “Especially this three-quarter stuff. A full sheet of this is both heavy and awkward.”

We humped the sheet of plywood across the field for a while, maybe thirty or forty seconds, before the silence started making me feel all twitchy, so I said, “How’s the search for trailers going?”

“Good and bad. Good in that we already found two today. Bad because one of them is just a teardrop camper. It’ll only sleep three people… cramped.”

“Oh, well, it’s a start anyway,” I said. “The main thing is beds and shelter.”

“That’s a part of it,” Oscar agreed, “but I gotta get people spread out into their own space, too. We can’t keep being crammed on top of each other like we are. People will start tearing each other’s heads off otherwise.”

I thought of Fred and muttered, “No shit.”

We approached the holes and laid the sheet over them, taking care to ensure that both were sufficiently covered. I said, “We’ll have to build little houses over these. The critical factor is that the floor have a good seal all away around the hole and also that the box we end up sitting on has a lid that seals uptight as well. If any part of the pit is left open, this whole area’ll get completely overrun with flies.”

“No problem, man,” he said. “I know how it can be done. It’ll take maybe a couple of days to do the whole thing once I have all the material up here.”

I said, “You’re going to be a busy guy for the next forever, I think. You just let the rest of us know how we can help. You and Fred don’t have to remain as the only guys who know how to build shit. We can get you set up with, well, apprentices, I guess. Greg and Alan both have a couple of strong backs on them… trust me, I know.”

“Hey, let me ask you something,” Oscar said. The tone of his voice told me something was bugging him, so I gave him my full attention. “What’s your take on Amanda and Jake?”

“Oh, well, they seem okay, so far. Jake can be kind of a weirdo, but then, I think anyone who survives what we all have comes out a little touched if you know what I’m saying.”

“Naw, man. I mean Jake and Amanda… together .”

“Oh,” I said. “Uh… hadn’t given it much thought, really.”

Oscar looked back in the direction of the cabin, silently getting into his own head.

“What?” I asked.

“I just kind of assumed they were together, you know? Like, every so often she’ll put a hand on his shoulder or his arm and leave it there just a little longer than normal, right?”

“I guess,” I said. “I don’t know if that means anything. Some people are just more touchy-feely than others.”

“Yeah, come on, you know what I mean. Plus, does Amanda seem like the touchy-feely type to you?”

“Huh. You do have a point there,” I said. Piss her off enough and Amanda seemed a lot more like she could be the shooty-stabby type, honestly.

“She asked me to help her build a house for her and Lizzy while we were out alone today,” Oscar said, still looking at the cabin. “She was… um… really serious. ‘Serious’ isn’t the right word, actually, but I’m having trouble thinking of one that fits.”

“Insistent?”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “There you go. She was insistent.”

“You don’t think Jake’s putting hands on her, do you?”

“Nah,” Oscar said. “I don’t get that feeling from her. We knew women back in the barrio that used to get smacked around by their husbands. Amanda doesn’t act like them at all.”

“Well, shit. Maybe she just wants her own place, man. Did you ask her?”

“Not about that, no.”

“But you did ask her something? What was it?”

“Never mind,” Oscar said.

Amanda asked me to head back out with her and Oscar to retrieve the two campers; to provide another set of hands, eyes, and cover. I told her I was happy to do so, and she spent the next few minutes waiting by the truck while I retrieved my rifle and scavenged rig. She and Oscar both were already wearing some sort of sleek, black, lightweight body armor that appeared to have taken a beating in its service life. They had been wearing this stuff when they made their first excursion that morning.

They had stumbled upon an RV park located in the rough center of Jackson south of the 191. The thing was right in the middle of the city, right next to a bar and library; surrounded by parking lots and businesses. I wondered about the kind of people who would come to camp at such a location given the fact that Jackson itself was sitting ass-to-shoulders with both Yellowstone and the Grand Teton national parks. I suppose they must have charged more affordable rates, but honestly, why come to this area with an RV just to park it by the fucking drug store?

The park itself had been mostly emptied out by the time we got to it; nearly all of the stalls were vacant, and many of the trailers that were still there had been trashed, gutted, or rendered otherwise unusable. There were two exceptions; one little teardrop trailer and a much larger RV truck. Jake was still out with Wang and the others in the Dodge collecting food, so the three of us (Oscar, Amanda, and me) decided to throw a couple of filled gas cans into the Ford and head out to retrieve Oscar’s first score.

We took a detour on the way, driving further north to an Ace Hardware store, where Oscar lost his goddamned mind and ran around grabbing everything in sight. He wanted to start by loading the truck bed up with a shit ton of lumber, which I only talked him out of by explaining it would be better for us to come back with the trailer because it could hold a lot more. He agreed and instead spent the next hour and a half hauling armloads of whatever tools had been spared from looting outside to throw in the bed. He also lined up several five-gallon buckets and proceeded to fill them with box after box of nails and screws of all sizes; not putting the whole box in, of course, but opening the boxes and dumping their contents into the buckets. By the time we were done, the truck looked like it was loaded with enough shit to build a housing tract. I was just rubbing a knot in my back when Oscar scurried back to the passenger side of the truck cab, jumped in, and slapped his hand on the outside door panel.

“ Andale !”

“Jesus Christ, alright, Speedy,” I said as I eased up into the back seat. “Keep your sombrero on.”

“Racist…” said Oscar.

“Oh, hell, there he goes again,” I said.

“I don’t know if I’d call that racist,” Amanda said to Oscar as she got the truck moving. “You are moving pretty fast.”