Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 56

Day 16: April 24th, Saturday
Two weeks since Ground Zero

If I had known that sneaking into a big city like Albany to be difficult, then I was not prepared. They built walls in a week. Walls made of plywood and stacked vehicles, yet still hard to get into without some guard catching you, built on the remnants of I-87 and I-90, which combined, wrapped around the city like a barrier itself.

Half a mile out, the walls (where the checkpoints were stationed) were littered with landmines. I almost stepped onto one until a cat beat me to it (and the little bugger exploded into tiny bits, poor thing). Then, a squad came out to check it out, and I had to hide behind some logging equipment filled with rusted nails that would get me a bad case of tetanus. Luckily, I wasn't injured.

Refugees had camped outside the city walls; the south was still burning, but the vectors hadn't come north yet. Most of these camps congregated to where the checkpoints were. It had been three days since we got here, and we were still not inside the city.

I snuck into one of the survivor camps wearing my civilian clothing. The once open fields were littered with makeshift tents and a ravine brimming with piss and shit. There were already looting and thieving in the camps, even murder, as the survivors desperately held onto their belongings and what little food they had left.

I felt ashamed that I hoarded a ton of it back in our camp in Thompsons Lake. Near but far enough from the city. It was a perfect place to make camp, unseen by the ruffians and other reprobates in the refugee camp. None of the survivors ventured out that far, although there were some close calls.

I learned from an older woman in the western camp that they allowed a certain number of people between 8 AM and 5 PM per day via a lottery. Those who were deemed sick were denied entry. Then I learned that they were targeting the old and those who couldn't help out inside the safe zone, the woman hearing one soldier calling them dead weight. Her son and his family abandoned the old woman because they would lose their spot on the waiting list if they didn't.

"I understand what Charlie has done," the old woman told me, managing a small smile. "I want my grandchildren to be far away from here. Even though it is hard for them if they are alive and safe once this is over, that's enough for me."

It was painful for her to be discarded so quickly, yet she still cracked a smile. She was alone in one makeshift tent that had holes. It rained yesterday, so everything inside was damp and wet. She was coughing, realized she caught a cold, but I didn't see any bite marks on her skin. She wouldn't make it in another day or two. She had arthritis and chronic pain on her wrist, just under her left thumb.

I offered her a couple of my Advil, but she quickly put it inside my pocket and whispered, "Get that out of sight." She looked around if everyone noticed, calming down when the coast was clear. "There are already many sick people here, and they will hurt you to get what you have."

She looked at my pocket again and fished one pill out, quickly popping it into her mouth. She winked at me, said, "Thank you, young man."

"I have a place that is not as shitty as this one," I whispered close to her ear.

She laughed. "Haven't you been paying attention, dear? This is the end of the world. Everything is shit," she said. "Thank you for the offer, but I will stay here. If this is where I die, I'll meet my Vincent soon. Plus, there are children here. I tell them stories to help them escape this reality for an hour or two."

I left her after that with a frown on my face. Most of the people around this camp would die once the vectors ran out of prey down south. They would overrun this camp in a matter of minutes.