'Where do you get the food for all these people?' Jim asked.
'The building had some restaurants and this cafeteria,' Smokey answered.
'All fully stocked. Plus, there were vending machines on most of the floors, as well as miscellaneous food items in the apartments and offices.'
He leaned down, put his hands on his knees, and looked Danny in the eye.
'I bet you like blueberry pancakes, don't you, kiddo?'
'Yes sir.'
'Good, because Etta and Leroy and their crew make the best darn blueberry pancakes you've ever eaten. Let's get in line.'
Danny grinned in anticipation, and Jim began to relax. It felt strange after countless days spent on the run. His shoulders loosened a bit, his muscles relaxing. Maybe they would be all right after all. He thought back to his second wife, Carrie, and their unborn baby, both killed at the start of his quest. Then he thought about Baker and Martin, and all the others. Perhaps the deaths and the bad times were behind them for a while. He sighed.
'Feels good, doesn't it?' Smokey asked.
Jim nodded. 'It does. It's-a community.'
'That it is. About three hundred of us here, all told. Folks work in shifts, so you won't see everybody at once, unless we have a community meeting in the auditorium- and even then, there will still be folks on watch. The cafeteria is open twenty-four hours a day, to take care of folks on night shift and guard duty and what not. But we ration the food, and if you're not one of those folks, you won't get served when it's not your turn. People come here just to hang out, play cards, talk. Breakfast is when it's usually most crowded.'
'I don't mind the crowd,' Jim mused. 'I'm just happy to be here. Feels like we've been on the run forever, going from one bad situation to the next. It's hard to believe I can let my guard down.'
They got in line and each took a tray. Smokey joked and chatted with every person they passed. He seemed to know everybody. He introduced the three of them, but Jim and Don soon lost track of the names. Jim's wounded shoulder began to ache from all the hand shaking.
A young woman approached them and playfully pushed Smokey out of the way.
'Watch it, Val.' He grinned. 'Hey, meet Jim and Danny Thurmond and Don De Santos.'
'Hi,' Val said, flashing white teeth. 'You're the group that Quinn and Steve brought in.'
'We are,' Jim replied. 'How did you know that?'
'Val is one of our communication specialists,' Smokey explained. 'She's also eating for two.'
'I'm pregnant,' she confirmed. 'Only two months, though, so I'm not showing yet.'
Jim and Don congratulated her, and then she moved on.
'So what does everybody do around here, other than guard duty and radio monitoring?' Don asked.
'You name it, we've got it,' Smokey answered. 'Doctors and nurses.
Scientists. Soldiers. Janitors. We've got a hydroponics lab and a greenhouse, so if you've got a green thumb, you could volunteer for that. Couple of teachers have started a school on the twentieth floor, so Danny here will be able to continue his learning.'
'School?' Danny groaned. 'Yuck.'
Jim smiled at this. It felt good to hear Danny reacting like a kid to normal things-almost as if the zombies had been a bad dream.
'There's lots of other kids your age,' Smokey told him. 'You'll like it.'
Danny considered this.
Smokey turned back to Jim and Don as the line moved forward.
'We've got janitors and cooks and a maintenance department,' he said.
'If you're good with plumbing or electricity or can hammer a nail straight, they'd be glad to have you. There's a full-sized movie theater and a pretty good library-not that I'm much for reading, mind you. We've got a group that puts on plays once a month, and an orchestra too-mostly musicians who banded together once they were inside here. They all use the auditorium. Hell, we've even got our own closed-circuit TV station.
They don't show much: reruns of Andy Griffith, Seinfeld, Deadwood, and old game shows mostly.'
A disheveled man tugged on Jim's shirtsleeve.
'Have you seen my cat?' His mouth held two good teeth, and his dirty hair was plastered to his head with what looked like motor oil. Jim reeled from the man's body odor. Along with the stink, the man smelled like he'd bathed in vodka.
'No, I'm afraid I haven't seen a cat.'
'My cat smells like tuna fish,' the man told him. 'His name is God. He's omnipotent.'
'Get out of here, Pigpen,' Smokey barked. 'Leave these people alone. They haven't seen your damned cat.'
Pigpen turned to Don. 'Can you spare a few bucks?'
Don's eyes widened in surprise.
'Go on now, Pigpen,' Smokey insisted. 'Get!'
The strange man wandered away. Don stared after him.
'What is it?' Jim asked. 'He seemed pretty harmless.'
