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

Are there more people here than what he claimed? Where the fuck are they? Are we being watched right now? What the fuck is so funny?

Through a smile, Gibs said, “Well, I’ll have to take it all back to my people, like I said. Give me a few days to get back to you, okay?”

“Fine,” Clay nodded, staring hard into Gibs’s eyes; looking for any hint at what was going on behind them. “Come on back and see us when you’re ready.”

“Yep, you got it,” he said as he walked back to the Humvee. His voice quivered slightly as he went. He climbed into the vehicle, fired the engine, and drove back down the highway. He was laughing uncontrollably when he pulled up alongside Wang; big, meaty gasps as he struggled not to choke on his own humor.

He waved at his friend to follow, and they drove home.

She’d asked him to take a seat before stepping out of the room to grab a few things, having gestured to the raised examination table. George eyed the table as though it was runny dog shit on fresh carpeting. She must have hauled it all the way back from the hospital just to give the attached medical office that official touch. It was a nice thought, he supposed, but the damned things always hurt his knee when he sat on them. His lower leg always dangled off the side and the weight of it transferred directly to the support structures of the knee joint, waking up that old sharp twinge. He sat down on her rolling stool instead, draping both hands over the handle of his cane.

When Olivia returned from her living quarters, she drew up short in the doorway as she considered him. She nodded to herself and entered the room, moving to lean against the padding of the exam table. There was a bundle of black neoprene and nylon tucked under her elbow.

“You’re not shitting me, are you George? Your Doc really did issue you one of these once upon a time?”

“My doctor and physical therapist both. I told you; after my fall they had to repair my MCL, and then I had to wear one of those things for a few months, only it had hinges and bars on it. They downgraded me to the one without the hinges sometime later. I didn’t wear it around the clock—only when I was going to be on my feet a while. It helped quite a bit.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “George… listen. If you’re bullshitting me on this… well, this has the potential to really screw you up, okay? I don’t have the gear to see what’s going on in that leg; there’s just what you’re telling me here.”

“Why would I make up such a thing?”

Tilting her head, she resisted the urge to sigh. “You wouldn’t be the first elder I’ve heard of that expected too much of his own physical capability.”

His head dropped by a fraction; the tiniest hint of a man sick to death of explaining his desires away. “Olivia, this knee has not been right since I damaged it. If I put enough weight on it, it feels like the damned thing will give out; just blow right out sideways. It feels better with a brace. Stronger. It improves my quality of life, and I have a much easier time getting around because of it. Also, I don’t discard the cane when I wear a brace; the brace just helps me to feel steadier on my feet. I don’t understand your caution here. I guess I appreciate it but… I’m frankly becoming a little worn out with it.”

“I’ve been here a while now, right?”

His furry eyebrows pinched together, nearly obscuring his eyes entire. “What about it?”

“It’s interesting to me that you’ve only brought this up recently.”

“Well, there’s always a lot going on. It took you a while to set up shop; I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

“Right,” she said. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the recent arrival up in Jackson, would it?”

“I don’t follow…”

She shrugged. “As in wanting to pick up a rifle and mix it up with the younger folk? You wouldn’t be entertaining any fantasies, would you?”

His eyes remained hidden under the bushy snarl of eyebrows, and she saw his jaw set under the swirls of his snow-white beard. The high wrinkled slope of his forehead reddened as he stood carefully from the stool, bracing himself with the plain black cane. He stepped toward her and held out his hand.

“Hand me the brace, please, Miss Lee.”

She hesitated only a moment before holding it out, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake; unable to know in which way she should proceed to protect the man’s dignity and wellbeing. Uncertain which aspect took the greatest precedence like a mother deathly afraid of doing harm to her child through the best of misguided intentions.

He took the brace from her and said, “Stick to what you know.”

“George… plea—”

A pounding fist rattled the office door in its frame, and they heard Otis’s muted voice from outside.

“C’mon, y’all! Our folks’re back, now!”

George settled back down to the stool and said, “Go on ahead of me.” There came a sound of separating Velcro; ripping like a dry sheet of fabric. “Let them know I’ll be right over.”

“George, I—”

“Go on, Olivia. We’re okay. Old men just get cranky. Go on, now.”

She could think of nothing else to offer, so she went.

The entire population of the Bowl knew about the strangers out in Jackson by the time Gibs’s team returned from their meeting with Clay, so there was simply no hope of a private debriefing after the Hummers had been parked and vacated. It didn’t even make sense to try. They began to collect together out in front of Jake’s cabin at the first sign of the rickety vehicles’ booming engines as they drove through the cleft, and by the time Gibs, Jeffries, and Wang had shrugged out of their combat load enough chairs had been set up in a circle to accommodate everyone. The only person absent from the meeting was Tom Davidson, who had to travel overland on foot through rugged terrain while humping camping gear to get home; they didn’t expect to see him until after dark.

They all unconsciously assumed chairs fanning out from the three closest to the cabin porch, leaving a slot in the center for the men that had returned. Folks like Jake, Amanda, and George sat close to this focal point. Andrew, Victor, Isaiah, Patty, Olivia, and the rest of the Second Wave clustered together in their own little pocket, whether they realized it or not, and all the children played out in the field a ways off, still in plain sight of all who were gathered. Greg sat close to Alish holding her hand, and she appeared self-conscious for it. Even so, the others had long since ceased to notice these public displays of affection, if they had ever noticed them at all. Very few of them had been surprised when Greg publicly addressed the issue, though a great many were positively shocked to hear they were in a family way. Olivia had been less than excited to hear the news, having wished for a little more time before such things became a consideration.

As always, Greg noticed his brother Alan seated a good distance away, ignoring them so loudly that he’d almost be better served by screaming that he did not see them.

Several of them awaited Gibs’s pronouncement with high anticipation; having come to respect and love the man, they relied on him to deliver a fair and level reckoning of the situation. They sat patiently through his summary of the encounter; his recounting of what they had seen, heard, and even smelled. He offered no judgments of value as he spoke, limiting his narrative only to what did happen. What was said. When he finished telling it all, he sat back in his chair, had a drink of water, and was silent.