Chapter 4, Silence

12 Days post fall

Arden Monroe sat under a tree, at a picnic table. It was originally a spot for criminals to have lunch. Said criminals were a most unsavory bunch, sequestered away from gen pop. Scrap stood, his heavy head sitting on Arden's leg.

"Good old man," Arden said aloud, rubbing him behind the ears. The dog was a pitbull mix. She had no idea what kind, but he had graying whiskers and jaw. His eyes were cloudy, but no less a deep brown. His coat was a golden-brown, bar his chest, with white splotches, and his ears which were chestnut in color. "Handsome. Now, let's find Corinne."

Arden looked around as she entered the prison. She and Corinne had closed the place down, cleared the dead, and kept the prisoners locked up hour by hour. However, she felt safer being alert, keeping watch and not letting her guard down. Can't be too careful being deaf. She spoke well, and wasn't born deaf, but had until the age of 8 to learn to speak and lip-read.

Scrap followed closely, and constantly passed Arden. Sometimes he would sit on her feet till she pet him. They found him on the second day of the apocalypse, and he had been their companion since. He'd jumped into their car when they'd parked to scavenge.

Scrap stopped short and tilted his head, so Arden dropped low and drew a knife. She crept down the hallway, and located Corinne laying on a table full of devices. Across the room was a prisoner, tied to another surface, wide eyed. His mouth wasn't duct taped, so Arden knew that was the reason Scrap stopped short. She grabbed a roll of tape from Corinne's new bed, and shut the maw of the prisoner. She read the papers that had been dispersed on the floor as Scrap entered the room.

Corinne read, "Colins, Frank, convicted of statutory rape of a child aged 10 to 12 years old."

"Damn you got them young," Arden chuckled, tossing the document aside.

Corinne sat bolt upright, staring, "Jesus fuck why now."

Scrap wagged his tail when he heard Corinne, and she hopped down from the table and rubbed his large noggin.

"I'll let you wrap up. We really need to move on and find a new place." Arden signed, tapping her foot.

"There are like a hundred more of them though," Corinne complained, signing her reply.

"I know. But a prison is a place ripe for the picking. Isolated, stockpiled, armored, and most of all, public."

"Yeah, you aren't wrong. I'll do him first, then take the others out."

"Why do that? Just cut off a limb and let them bleed or starve out." Arden grinned, eyeing the saw behind Corinne.

Corinne matched Arden's look and stood, leaving Scrap and grabbing her scalpel.

Arden left the building, happy to not hear the sounds that were coming from within. She wasn't a sociopath, everyone she had killed had a valid reason to be, and she felt nothing toward the other prisoners locked up for all sorts of things. She had been an assassin for several years, since she was 16. Corinne was a narcoleptic serial killer, recruited to the Dixie Counter-Intel agency at 15. Both had worked together for around 3 years before the fall of the world.

In less than half an hour Corinne was out of the building, rubbing the thick red blood of her victims from her arms. Her shirt was soaked through.

"The difference between you and Dexter," Arden laughed, "Is that he wore an apron."

"True, but this is part of the glory of the kill." Corinne smiled, stripping off her tee, revealing her blood stained midriff, and replacing it in a Georgia Correctional Institute uniform white undershirt.

The pair were operating in the Jackson County area, seeking out a northern operative. The world fell a week into their search, so they abandoned their jobs and went off on their own to survive.

Scrap sat between the young women as they drove south, to Statham. They were lucky most of the dead had migrated to the east or west of the city. The roads were clear, unlike Athens, despite the population of Statham exploding since the splinter war.

"I wish we had a fucking map," Corinne signed, steering with her knees.

"It would be nice," Arden replied, arm laid around Scrap's neck. He always stood in cars, regardless of the instability. It was both endearing, and retarded. "Hey let's hole up in that library," Arden said, pointing across the road to a sign, 'Jackson County Public Library'.

Corinne pulled the truck in as the rain began to fall, and the pair of women unloaded their plastic crates of belongings. Good timing.

The library felt like the perfect place to hole up. Who the hell is reading in this? It felt more likely they were after food, weapons, and power. Glad those damned public food banks are eliminated now, otherwise this would be a shitshow.

"The only thing I don't like about this place is how flammable it is," Corinne said aloud, then turned to clear off a space in the bottom shelf.

"That is not the best thing to think first." Arden laughed, setting up a space to sleep just a few meters away. Corinne had finished her clearing off of the shelf and added a pillow against the side wall of the shelf, and a foam pad beneath her sleeping bag. You crazy bitch, Arden chuckled internally.

---

2 Weeks post fall

Arden awoke to the stench of smoke in the air, Dammit. When she opened her eyes she felt pressure behind them, with nowhere to go. Her head throbbed. Corinne's space in the shelf was abandoned, and Scrap was nowhere to be seen. Arden abandoned her own spot, the sleeping bag and foam roll would be easy enough to replace. She felt glass crunch under her feet as she headed toward the entrance, so she retraced her steps. Better not to walk into an ambush.

The smoke was less and less thick, and there wasn't near as much dust further back in the library. The employee exit sign's lights flashed, and Arden burst through the door. Scrap wandered over, not so much as panting. Arden crouched and stroked the dog, checking his hair. He didn't show signs of burns, but his coat was covered in debris. Lucky fucker didn't injure himself on the glass. Now, to find Corinne.

Arden drew her pistol as she rounded the corner, and Scrap walked pensively behind her. His ears were back, a sign of agitation, so Arden checked the chamber of her pistol. Arden felt the thump of a gunshot's concussive blast in her chest, so she dropped low and swapped to her rifle.

A couple blocks away she saw what she was after. Corinne's instantly recognizable red and purple hair was heading toward Arden, having doubled back on the pursuers. They shot after her, Arden could feel the shots as well as see dust near Corinne at each one. The enemy troop finally came into view, and Arden took out the only one with a rifle drawn. She covered the scope to avoid lens glare, then took aim again, hitting his knee and downing the man in the front of the group.

Arden knew she'd been seen, so she took another vantage point. Closer rather than further from the incoming group. Throw them off, She though, pulling a grenade from her cargo pocket. She tossed it out into the street, bar its pin. Just after the shrapnel left the casing, she leaned out and shot one woman in the forehead, the other got out of sight.

Corinne ran faster, joining up with Arden. The girl was covered in blood, soot, and ash. "Good god woman." Arden grinned.

"I cannot believe you slept through that explosion." Corinne shook her head. "I thought I went deaf."

Several minutes later they had a new truck, tires shot out of the one they'd had, and were headed to the east. *New location, new opportunities.

The truck they'd nabbed was a postwar ford, model Y. It had completely flopped in the market, and people had been going further and further from electric vehicles. The north had weaponized their access to vehicle data during the war, and even before had utilized certain kill switches built into even regular vehicles.

"Well, that's not promising." Corinne slowed the truck to a stop. The pair, and Scrap, were out of statham, but outside the city limits. This was made instantly clear when Arden saw the sign. It was a billboard, and from the lights pointed at itself, 6 bodies hung. Well, 5 and a head. 3 swung and moved around violently. One was still, and one had lost his body. They were all male, and all clothed, which ruled out pedophilia and rape in Arden's eyes. Defense then. Damn. Whoever had done it was nobody to trifle with.

Scrap dully looked out the windshield, and he couldn't have seen much with his cataracts. He looked over to Arden, and sniffed her ear. She laughed aloud, and he licked her face. Corinne smiled, and continued driving.

As they got closer to the city, the traffic in the westbound lanes only got worse. By Walmart people had started to use the eastbound lanes to go west. "I do not like this one bit," Arden signed, pointing at the fresh smoke coming from walmart. Corinne agreed and continued to the intersection with timothy road.

Left would have taken them toward schools and the shopping centers along Atlanta Highway, so they took a right, and continued until they came across the big money neighborhoods. Corinne recognized the name of one of the old neighborhoods, and turned in.

It was easy to tell apart different eras of money to Arden. Antebellum money, the gains of old war families and oil families. Intrawar families, those who gained off of weapons and clothing production, who distributed their wealth among their relations and made big compounds. Then new money, old tech, mass produced. Their houses were gated, modest but large.

Arden chose a large 3 story antebellum house, one that would have eaten her childhood home 5 fold. Greedy bastards, Arden thought, parking in their detached 5 car garage.

"Arden," Corinne signed, stopping in a small hallway. "This isn't 3 stories."

Brow furrowed, Arden approached, and saw the laundry chute down another floor. "This has to be real old money. I'll bet the greedy bastards didn't support their relatives."

"Or just had no kids." Corinne said aloud with a smile.

Arden took the downstairs, hands up with a flashlight and a knife. Scrap stumbled down the stairs after her. Poor old man. Arden cringed when she felt a thud behind her. The hallway to the left was dark, more enclosed than the area to the right. The first room was a large storage area, the next contained a boiler, and yet more junk.

The next room was a huge bedroom, pictures all over the walls, and gaudy furniture was everywhere. Next was a walk in closet which Arden bookmarked for later ransacking. Next, a massive bathroom, shiny fixtures, slick tile floor, and so many cabinets. The laundry room was next, chute running up to the entrance area the party entered through.

Scrap found a spare faucet handle from god knew where, and sat down right in Arden's way. She stooped, rubbing the boy's head. Then next room was a gaming room. No monitors on the walls, no desk, or even a table, but there were many antique machines, pinball, and arcade in general. Arden left the hallway area and entered the large room by the stairs.

The room was decorated like something out of a 1960s movie, gaudy and things on every surface, and furniture everywhere. A gigantic family portrait hung on one wall, with the old dead eyed faces of the family. There was an outdoor area enclosed in glass, and nothing of note there, so Arden walked past the dining table and sitting area, to the mini kitchenette and bar.

"Score!" From the cabinet Arden pulled out half a dozen different bottles of alcohol, ranging from rum to tequila, to bourbon and vodka. She set them on the counter and rummaged through the other cabinets. The only other thing of note was the collection of knives in the knife block. She took the smallest two and slipped the blades between her belt and denim jeans in front of her right pocket. In the left she drew her flask, and filled it with vodka.

Arden got Scrap from the gaming room, where he had settled down with the faucet, and the pair went upstairs. Corinne was finished with the main floor, so together they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"Gods this is claustrophobic," Arden said as they passed from the first main hallway to the rooms on either side.

The hallway itself was very dark, even with the flashlights. The walls were some sort of dark wood that was stained further. Pictures, similar to the basement's decorated every wall, and even the nightstands of the bedrooms. Arden hated the idea of her face being plastered everywhere, as well as being watched by portraits of the potentially dead, she turned photos face down when possible.

The very top floor was by far the smallest, but a real goldmine. Most of it was a large library, books on every wall, and there were three alcoves, which could have been balconies if not enclosed instead. The first was full of knives and antique firearms, the types of things one would expect from an antique shop or gun store. Some were damascus knives, others hand made from railroad spikes. Corinne found a duffel bag, empty, along with camping gear, in a cabinet under one of the display cases. She took several knives out from the newly smashed glass cases, and the pair went on to the second alcove. It was the same size as the first, with all sorts of medals and honors and accolades.

"Yuck." Corinne sneered, squatting to open the cabinets. Stack of newspapers, desk weights, folders of documents. Several large bankers boxes which revealed legal documents, lawsuit winnings, and budget spend. Gods.

The third alcove piqued Arden's interest. Gun racks on the three walls. A couple were real old antiques, pre-secession US civil war, relics of the first and second world wars, and some stuff from the secession war. Arden took out a new duffel from a cabinet and took every semi modern weapon she could, and several boxes of ammunition. "These should hold some value." Arden chuckled, racking the bolt of a sniper rifle.

"I cannot begin to fathom a weapons based economy. Dear god how far we will fall."

Scrap was still downstairs, gnawing on the faucet. He stood and wagged his tail when the women entered the living room. "Come on old man," Arden called, hefting the bottles from the basement. Corinne led the way, pistol drawn, but had no need to use it. Arden didn't see a single walker in the entire property. We could stop here for a few days, She considered, At the same time how many others know about this place.