The Rot: Book 2

Chapter 4

I could smell the cardboard as soon as I walked into the warehouse. The group of survivors had stacked up boxes to make themselves their own little rooms, which was quite clever if I do say so myself. The warehouse interior resembled somewhat of a cardboard shanty town. In addition to Carla and Maurice, there was Mick, Dylan, and Philip.

"Carla, this is like the inverse of what I have at the apartments," I said.

"You know what, Reid? You're right," Carla replied, laughing.

"What do you mean, Reid?" Maurice asked me.

"It's me and three women back at the apartment complex," I answered.

Maurice chuckled. "That must be an experience."

"They all hate me."

"Well, it's a real sausage party here," Carla quipped.

In the center of the warehouse sat a white minivan with the hood up and two guys working on it: Mick and Dylan.

"Here you go, Dylan," Maurice said, tossing him the bottle of antibiotics that Carla found at the clinic.

Dylan looked up from the vehicle and caught the bottle. "Oh, good. Hey, Carla, who's the new guy?"

"Mick, Dylan, this is Reid Abrams," Carla replied.

I waved to the two guys working on the van. "I'm not necessarily the 'new guy' not just yet."

Dylan was short, and pudgy, with a chubby face and wearing gray mechanic's coveralls. Mick was tall and barrel-chested with short, black hair and a full beard. Mick was wearing a leather vest, black boots, and black shorts. He looked like the leader of a biker gang.

"Nice axe," Mick told me. He had a deep, booming voice.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Where's Philip?" Carla asked.

"Loverboy? He's laying down," Mick replied.

Carla shook her head at Mick. "Jerkoff." Mick just chuckled to himself.

"What's the deal?" I asked Maurice.

"Carla and Phil have a 'thing' if you get the drift," Maurice answered.

Carla started to blush. "Stop it. All of you."

"Hey, somebody has to rebuild society," I remarked. "They're doing their part, I guess."

"They use protection," Mick told me.

"Then in that case, somebody has to practice rebuilding society."

"Assholes. All of you," Carla said. She walked away from us and over to the other side of the warehouse to her little 'cubicle.' She pulled the sheet open and walked into her cardboard home.

"How'd you meet Carla, Reid?" Dylan asked me.

"I bumped into her at the clinic actually. A few people back in my group needed some medical supplies themselves. Me and Carla ran into one another in the supply room," I answered. I noticed that Dylan's right forearm was tightly bandaged with white gauze. "What happened to your arm? Were you bitten?"

"Oh hell no. I cut it on some glass while out looking for some supplies. Carla thought it looked infected, that's why she went out to see if she could find some antibiotics."

"What do you think of this place?" Maurice asked me. "I'm sure it's not as luxurious as your apartments."

I laughed. "It's nice actually. Like a big ass studio apartment. I like your cardboard cubicles, too. It's ghetto fabulous."