Beyond the Barriers (Novella): Ghouls by Timothy W. Long Page B

cry from the cute housewife I’d known when she and Devon lived down the block from us.
    “Tragger. I asked for you because this might help you find Katherine. One of our guys found something strange and we’re sending out a full team to investigate. We aren’t in the search and rescue business, not normally, but this demands attention. I don’t know if Katherine is with them or if it will even lead you to her location. It’s what we’ve got right now. You interested in going along?”
    “Count me in, Lisa.”
    “Do me a favor, Erik.” Lisa said. “Don’t even think about bringing a ghoul back to camp.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m sure I said it before but just in case, I’m sorry I dragged that one back to the old location.”
    “I have some gear set aside for you. What’re you packing?” She nodded at my vacant waist.
    “Got a desert eagle and a shotgun. I could use some ammo.”
    “We have a case of weapons. I know for a fact that there’s an M4 without anyone’s name on it. You interested?”
    “Hell yeah, I am. Got any .44 rounds?”
    “See that truck?” She pointed at a big Ford pickup with an older green camper on the back. “Ask for Molly. She’ll get you settled.”
    “Perfect. When do we leave?”
    “Fifteen minutes. Get some chow while you’re at it. We don’t have the best food in the world but it’s better than going hungry,” she said.
    My stomach growled at the thought of food. What had I had to eat besides cliff bars and energy drinks over the last few days?
    “Thanks, Lisa. For thinking of me, and for everything,” I said.
    “You’re a valuable asset, Erik. Do right by us and we’ll do right by you,” she said, and then went to meet with one of her team members. They leaned over a map and studied red lines that had been drawn on the paper. Jon pointed out landmarks and helped us establish a route.
    I set out to find the gunsmith and hopefully a few boxes of ammo. I still hurt just about everywhere, but I was anxious to get back into the woods and start tracking down Katherine. I prayed she was still alive.

9
    W e assembled in a small clearing and went over our weapons and gear. True to Lisa’s word Molly had provided me with a full load out. The M4 was well worn but it had been maintained and smelled of fresh oil. The action was smooth as I worked the charging handle and tested the gun. It wasn’t the A1 variant so I was stuck with semi-auto and 3 round bursts. That suited me just fine because ammo was not a luxury we had.
    Molly handed me a box of 240 grain .44 caliber rounds. I filled my gun and pocketed the rest of ammo. She handed me an extra magazine for the M4, which brought me to sixty rounds of 5.56. I was better equipped than I’d been in some time. The final surprise was a two-point sling for the assault rifle.
    We were busy prepping for the next few hours. When I got hungry again I went looking for food and what a luxury that was. For the last few days we’d scraped by on next to nothing. My stomach was like a big hollow pit.
    I found the chow line to be busy and was handed a paper plate with a blob of thick, lukewarm oatmeal, a slab of cold SPAM, and a single small green apple that was covered in brown spots and fit in the palm of my hand.
    It was like I was eating at a five-star restaurant. I devoured every bite including the apples core, and then proceeded to lick the plate clean.
    “Got a little more oatmeal if you want,” the cook, a kid no more than sixteen years old, offered. He wore a wool jacket over a flannel shirt and sported tufts of downy hair on his face.
    “I’ll take it.” I said, accepted the blob, and demolished it.
    “Got any coffee back there,” I joked.
    “It’s instant but it’s got kick. Get it while you can because we’re down to our last few cans.”
    “Christ. I was kidding. Hit me with a full mug,” I said. “What’s your name?”
    “Trey.”
    “Chef Trey, you’re my new favorite person,” I said.
    He