Someone else in the tower spoke up. “They’re those scientists shitheads that were poking around out here last year, remember? Hey, you out there. What’s your name?”
“Edward.”
“Well, Eddy, what’re you guys doing back up here, and why the flying fuck would any brainiac like yourself actually be out here alone?”
“I…I was part of a team. We were doing some routine repairs on some field equipment when a group of reanimated came out of nowhere. I’m the…um, the only one who got away. Please, I haven’t eaten in almost a day, and I need water. And I have to find a way to get back to Denver.”
He heard the two voices talking to each other in low tones. One of them sounded like he was trying to hide laughter. Finally the first one spoke again. “Well all right then, Eddy. I’m sure we can find some food for you, but I don’t know about anything else.”
Unlike other towns, this one had a huge double set of doors instead of just a gate. They looked cobbled together from pieces of scrap metal, and both of them were rusted so badly they hurt Edward’s ears as some armed men pushed them open from the other side. Edward thanked them as he went in, but they both just scowled in response.
Just on the other side of the doors a steep set of stairs led up to the towers, and one of the men came down at a cautious pace. The stairs looked about ready to break apart under his weight. He was tall and skinny, with long knotty hair and clothes that were full of tears and moth holes. Edward’s dusty coveralls looked like a tuxedo next to him.
“Well then, I guess we should welcome you to Laramie,” the man said. Edward looked over the town around him and tried not to gape at the site. When he had first woken up, the ruins outside Fond du Lac had definitely given him the illusion of a post-apocalyptic world. The town itself had cracked that illusion, and Stanford had completely shattered it. Laramie, however, put that illusion back together good as new. Many of the buildings closest to the wall were still somewhat recognizable for the quaint little family homes they had once been, but they all looked like they’d been built before the Uprising and had barely been maintained since. Further away and closer to the center of town there appeared to be newer buildings rising up over the others, but just because they were newer didn’t mean they looked safer to be in. One building, rising up at least six stories, looked to be built with the same mismatched style as the outer wall and appeared to be lopsided. The streets were bustling with people and makeshift tents and booths had been set up on what had once been lawns but were now little more than muddy pits. The rare pieces of clothing that looked newer than fifteen years old appeared to be homemade.
Yes, this was most definitely not Stanford anymore.
The man from the tower smacked Edward on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t you go doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“I’ve seen that look before when some asswipe wanders up here from Denver or somewhere. That’s the look of you thinking the place you come from is so much better. Well it’s not, so fuck off.”
“I didn’t say anything like that,” Edward said.
“You didn’t need to. Just remember, you better mind your fucking manners around here. We don’t like fucking rude people, got it?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Good for you. Now look here. I got to go run and have someone report to my super that you came wandering in here, but for now you can go get yourself something to eat and the boss will be by to talk to you in a while, got it? Just head on down Arena Street here until you actually get to the arena. Right across the street you’ll see a building with a sign that says it belongs to Stupid Jerry. You go in there and tell them Bert sent you in and you need the Dumbass Wanderer special. You got all that?”
Edward nodded that he did, not because he actually understood any of it but simply because the guy was starting to give him the creeps. He supposed that would have been rather funny, a zombie being creeped out by someone, if he didn’t think that mentioning the joke out loud would get him killed.
He followed the directions Bert had given him. Stupid Jerry’s turned out to be what passed for a diner in this town, and the Dumbass Wanderer special was something the establishment had worked out with the Laramie security forces. They would feed the occasional human that ended up this far out (almost never on purpose) and the security people would foot the bill. That didn’t mean the waitress at Stupid Jerry’s was happy to serve him, nor did it mean the food they served him much resembled food. The special consisted of some soft substance (possibly mashed potatoes) mixed with meat (rabbit was Edward’s best guess) and some kind of sauce (which was pretty much unidentifiable) all served on a ceramic plate which, through some miracle of previously unknown chemistry, was somehow rusty.
Edward did his best to force it all down as though he were exactly as starved as he had claimed. The potatoes threatened to come up, but the meat worked just fine for him. The sauce, which tasted like little more than maple syrup heavily seasoned with pepper, made him think that pretty soon he might recreate his early CRS pants accidents.
He was just finishing it up when Bert came through the door with a short but very muscular man in a duster and a cowboy hat. Edward had to look again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but the man was real enough. The hat looked practically new, but the duster was ripped in many places and pretty well shredded where its too-long length dragged on the floor.
“Hello there!” the man said as he walked up to Edward’s rickety table. He had an enormous smile on his face and stuck out his hand for Edward to shake before he’d even come fully through the door. “Bert here told me your name is Edward. That correct? And he also told me you’re here from the C-R-S.” He said the three letters slowly, as though he were pronouncing them for the first time in his life.
“Um, yes, but I wasn’t really supposed to end up here.”
“Yes, yes, Bert told me all about that also. Tell you what, I’m going to join you and sit down. Do you mind if I sit down Edward?”
Edward was starting to think that he did mind, that there was something not quite right about the way this guy was going on, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to say no.
The man took a seat. “I suppose I should tell you my name, especially since I hope we become really good friends, Edward. Name’s Billy Horton. I run security for a good chunk of Laramie.”
Edward nodded. “I’m sorry, did you say friends?”
“I did indeed, Edward, I did indeed. Would you like that?”
“Um…”
“Now, now, don’t go answering that just yet. Don’t go jumping the gun. I think I should like to talk to you a little bit first. Can we talk?”
The problem, as Edward saw it, was not whether or not he could talk but whether or not Horton could ever stop. Edward didn’t know quite what he was going to do yet, but he did know he needed to do it quick. He highly doubted Liddie could overheat in the van, and he was pretty confident she couldn’t escape, but the idea of her out there alone was making him nervous.
“Sure,” Edward said.
“That’s good. Real good. I’ll cut to the chase, because we don’t like wasting time around here, you know what I mean? Bert said something about you wanting a way back to Denver. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ve got a truck that maybe I can give you completely free of charge and you can get right on back there right away. You like the sound of that?”
Edward forced himself to keep his mouth from dropping open. That sounded perfect. Too perfect. “Yes, that would be so great. But…”