Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus by Simpson, A. (e ink manga reader .txt) 📗

and after they washed up, they joined the rest of the community at the long, wooden tables.

“Who gets the package?” Jessie asked, indicating the leather satchel he was carrying as he sat next to some of the bikers.

“Him.” Dozer pointed to a man with an Abe Lincoln beard at the head of one of the tables. “Elder Waldner. But it can wait. Eating is more important.”

Dozer had already started in on his plate that was piled high with meats and greens and Bob quickly found out who his favorite new friends were. The ones that slipped him bits of steak or lamb. The quietness that had settled over the hall dissipated as everyone went back to their conversations, and soon Jessie had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. Eating was a festive affair and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine eating at a banquet hall of some Lord or Duke five hundred years ago. There was a massive stone fireplace blazing merrily and most of the residents were there for the community meal. They looked like Amish people to Jessie, the women all wore dresses and bonnets, and the men sported those funny beards. Dozer had quickly explained when they were washing up that everyone had assigned seats, the bikers and the children had their own tables. The kids because they wouldn’t be allowed to sit with the adults until they were fifteen, and the bikers because they hadn’t converted yet. Dozer was born into the community and owned property he’d inherited, but he’d left when he was sixteen and had only just returned when the zombie outbreak occurred. The Elders had let him and his men stay to provide security during the apocalypse and in return, the community would help them get his long-abandoned farm back up and producing again. It was a good tradeoff and a few of the bikers had already started courting some of the single women. They would be converting soon, Dozer had joked. Trading their choppers for tractors and their leathers for plain clothes in the Hutterite tradition.

Even among the friendly, smiling faces, Jessie had chosen a chair with its back against the wall. No one could sneak up behind him. Everyone was relaxed and there was a lot of laughter in the hall, but his eyes kept darting, kept checking the exits and the windows.

Dinner and dessert lasted for another hour, and from what he gathered, that was par for the course. He noticed a few of the bikers and locals slip away and be replaced by hungry men coming off guard duty. It seemed like a pretty organized outfit, but Jessie hadn’t noticed any heavy machine guns at the bridges. They were a little underpowered when it came to ordinance. He’d have to recommend some more guns for them, he could see they were good people and Lakota had plenty to spare. If a hundred of Casey’s Raiders or the mad Jihadis attacked, they wouldn’t be able to defend the Colony without them. There were twenty-four clans, or families, Dozer had told him. Most of them pretty big because they didn’t believe in birth control. The land they farmed had been Colony owned since the late eighteen hundreds and they had nearly six thousand acres surrounded by the bends of the Cimarron River. They were so far away from any towns or population centers the apocalypse had barely affected them. If the bikers hadn’t shown up with their crazy tales of the undead, the people of the valley would have never known the world had ended.

When it was all winding down and the tables were being cleared, Jessie finally delivered the small packet to the gray-bearded old man. It was nothing, really. Just lists of items to be traded. It was almost a disappointment, the first letter delivered in the new world could have been just as easily transmitted over the ham radio or sent in the next convoy of trucks that came out. The Elder made a big deal out of it, though. Made Jessie seem more important than he really was and told everyone gathered he would be traveling to all of the far outposts where people had built barriers against the undead. The Elders gave him letters to carry to other settlements, listing what they had to trade, how much and when the various fruits, vegetables, livestock and grains would be available. Some of the ladies gave him letters to carry to other Hutterite Colonies. They didn’t know if anyone in them had survived, if they’d been overrun, and Jessie promised to check the ones he could.

“They’ve set aside a room for you in the Community Building,” Dozer told him as the evening wound down and families headed back to their own homes. “The Express Riders room. Always available to you or any other riders that come. Or you can crash on the couch at my place. It’s a little messy, but it’s warm.”

“I’m good,” Jessie said. “I want to take off.”

Dozer cocked an eyebrow at him but Jessie didn’t elaborate and the big biker didn’t ask questions. He’d seen the way the kid carried himself, noticed that he sat with his back to the wall, was constantly vigilant, even among a hundred friendly faces. He’d heard the stories, knew the boy had been through a lot. Dozer figured the kid probably wouldn’t sleep a wink in the unfamiliar surroundings and had to give him kudos for being a straight shooter, not bending to social norms if he didn’t want to.

Bob hopped in, belly full and happy from all the attention, but eager to get back out on the road. Jessie fired up the Merc and it quietly idled, the new mufflers silencing the big horse motor under the hood. Jessie wanted it quiet, sometimes stealth was needed and the cherry bombs that used to be on it were anything but stealthy. Wire Bender had installed loudspeakers wired into the radio