by Arthur Stone
Without turning, the group’s commander dropped to a knee. His voice was displeased.
“What’s all this for?”
“I think I saw something flash through the light coming through those bushes,” Roach said waveringly.
“This is the fifth time!” Fatso muttered. “The wind is blowing the bushes around, and your imagination with it.”
“This was a bad idea. March and Tat are our sensors. He could have sent Tat with us instead of making us go blind.”
“Get up,” Fatso ordered. “Tat is about as good of a sensor as I’m a ballerina. She can only see at point blank range. And even then, she misses things. March said to go as a trio, so we go as a trio. If you hate it so much, I can shoot you and you can respawn back in some godforsaken city.”
“I’ve already lost two on this joke of a campaign. Cheaty, did you and Clown really run into some nodium?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you grab a lot?”
“Didn’t the party log say?”
“It just says you found a piece. Doesn’t say anything about the size of it. Could be the size of your head, or the size of Fatso’s penis here. Micropenis, I mean.”
“You want a peek at me so bad that you’re trying to offend me into giving you one?”
“Can’t you take a joke?”
“Yeah, when it’s funny. I’d be ashamed to write your ‘jokes’ on the wall of a toilet stall in an old gas station. But—I’m curious about the nodium, too. They say you have higher chances of running into grays when there is nodium nearby.”
“I’ve heard that, but I’ve also heard the opposite,” Roach added. “Look, it’s getting green up ahead. Seems like a decent cluster.”
“That’s what Janitor saw from the hill,” Cheater reminded.
“I haven’t seen any hills,” Roach complained. “No chance to get a good look around.”
“So we’ll look around once we’re there,” Fatso decided.
* * *
Perhaps this was the beginning of the mysterious border land. Whatever the reason, this cluster was strikingly different than all of the others Cheater had encountered during this second part of his new life.
The first part was everything that happened up until his separation from Kitty. That region had featured more interesting landscapes. Hilly ridges, outcrops of cliffs, great big dams. There, hills were normal, not an exception to the rule. Forests covered the land: deciduous, coniferous, mixed. There were also areas deprived of vegetation, but they were not as bad as the steppes.
The green cut off the gray as if with a giant scythe, leaving a perfectly smooth boundary line. Further down lay a pine forest. The trees were old and had been planted here only thanks to man. He determined that immediately, based on the even rows they were planted in. The lush crowns of the trees blocked too much of the sunlight for bushes and grass to grow well. This meant that they could see far into the distance despite the trees. And be seen—except when they used the occasional thickets to take cover.
Paths cut through now and then, but that was perhaps too generous a name. More like weak glades. No fresh tracks were in sight. They made no attempts to look intently, as the chances of finding anything were low.
At last, they reached the edge of the forest. Its boundary seemed so straight that Cheater suspected they had reached a new cluster, but that was incorrect.
A strip of dense bushes ran along the forest boundary. Thanks to them, they managed to emerge undetected into the space beyond the forest and hide while they studied the area.
It was just a huge clearing in the middle of the forest. It stretched after fifty yards, and beyond that, the pines resumed.
A railroad track stretched along the embankment, and wires hung over it to provide non-existent electric power to stationary trains.
One of the trains was stopped off to their left, in fact. A line of freight cars stretched out behind it. This train had probably stopped when the reboot killed power. Failing to reach anyone via the communication lines, the driver would have exited on foot to figure things out. Or, he would have been torn out by infecteds. The train’s cargo was of no interest to the infecteds.
Fatso watched the train through his small binoculars, then sighed.
“It’s coal. No value to us. A car of stew or canned beans could have solved one of our problems. Here, take these binoculars and go down to the embankment. Take a look around, both ways.”
“Why me?”
“Because I’m in charge here. Go on!”
Roach expressed his dissatisfaction with every muscle on his face, but did as he was told.
Cheater wondered aloud, “Why him? I’m the most inexperienced here. Usually I’m the one who takes the risks.”
“Risks? What’s the risk here, do you think? If he spots infecteds, he will lead them straight to us.”
“And if they’re worse than infecteds? This is an open area. A good shooter could take Roach out from a distance.”
“Why would a shooter be watching the tracks? There’s nothing to ambush! Anyway, maybe you’re right and it is a risk, but I’d rather save you than Roach. He seems very unlucky and has basically never helped us. But I’ve seen you help the party. Plus, since his level is higher, his Stealth is probably better. He won’t stand out as much as you do. So, in short, I see no reason whatsoever to send you.”
“Your level is even higher than his.”
“So? I’m in charge, and the boss shouldn’t run the errands. Now, quit talking before I regret my decision.”
“He’s been standing like that for a long time.”
“Means he noticed something,” Fatso suggested. “We’ll find out when he comes back.”
As if he overheard, Roach dropped his binoculars, rushed down the embankment, and nearly ran over.
“Nothing but train on the left, but it looks like there’s a station off to the right.”
“Looks like there’s a station? So there isn’t a station?”
“I don’t know. I see signals and arrows. And the tracks branch out a few times. Plus, there are two more trains down there. I’m no specialist, but I think that indicates a train station.”
Fatso nodded. “There’s something there. It might be a delivery point, a dead end terminating at some factory, but probably not. Let’s go check it out.”
* * *
Roach was correct. It was a station. Numerous trains could be seen from the forest’s edge, with a station building looming up behind them. It wasn’t the marble train station of a large city, but it was sizable. A station meant there was a town here, and that was good.
A town meant vehicles and food.
But—it could also mean trouble.
Understanding all of this, Fatso made no rush to move closer. He moved several times, changing to positions with a different perspective and noticing a couple of runners in the distance, between the buildings. They were at what was essentially the opposite end of the station. No other infecteds could be seen. None of the train cars looked like promising prospects for foraging.
After spending about twenty minutes on reconnaissance, Fatso led the group straight to the station building. Only in one location did they have to move quickly, for they risked being seen by the faraway runners between trains. But their backs were nearly turned, so they noticed nothing.
The station building looked untouched by the many disasters of the world. Even the glass in the windows was whole. Fatso selected the main entrance as their way in, and his brashness met no consequences. Even the pigeons underfoot did not take to the air, merely moved out of the way. But they did run away earlier than pigeons usually did. Someone had recently attacked them, so they were scared at the sight of humans.
Inside, they saw the first traces of calamity. A smashed ticket kiosk, bloody footprints on the floor, and piles of entirely gnawed bones. And, of course, the sickening sweet smell of decomposition that inevitably saturated all populated clusters here.
Fatso turned
with an order. “We have to get up to the roof and take a look around.”
That proved an easy task. In one place, the path was blocked by a pile of furniture, but they found a way through. It had likely been a barricade, but if it had kept the attackers back, it had not done so for long. They broke through, enjoyed a tasty meal, and left nothing behind but dried blood and rotten bones.
The trio moved along the roof in a crouch, trying not to be too visible over the sides. It was not a tall building. Dark silhouettes flickering against the cloudless blue sky would make all kinds of creatures charge in. Infecteds’ eyesight was set to detect even the slightest movement.
The station was indeed located at the edge of a small town. Along the one side ran the massive forest that the three adventurers had traveled through. On the other lay a long rectangular green park, complete with a square and monument in its center. Beyond lay buildings. Besides some low-rise apartment buildings, there were private houses and businesses, most only one floor tall. In the distance, they could see the pipes and warehouses of a factory, to which a railroad line ran from the station they were visiting.
Fatso noticed more than Cheater, thanks to his binoculars. “There’s a strong infected in a flowerbed behind that monument. Ruining white rose bushes, the bastard. An advanced raffler, at least, but it looks alone. Then I see some runners hanging around the buildings. Two tiny congregations of them. I don’t like it here. Too many of them.”
“So we’re getting out of here?” Roach hoped.
“That’s not why we’re here,” Fatso rebuked, “but it looks like we had best avoid the downtown area. If there are this many on the outskirts, things are probably more serious there. We’d make some kind of noise and bring half the city down on us. We can walk along the outskirts of town, checking all of the roads in and out. That should put us in contact with fewer creatures, but it might be a little harder to find a decent vehicle. Any other suggestions? And I need real options, Roach, not your usual complaints.”
“We can go around the edge and walk a short distance down the main roads into town,” Cheater amended. “The closer we get, the more abandoned vehicles we’re likely to find.”
“Yeah, right. Pintos and Vegas with smashed engines and empty full tanks,” doubted Fatso.
“Some decent vehicles, too. I’m just going by what I’ve seen. We’ll have to check out the roads one way or another, anyway.”
“Then it’s decided. We trek back to the forest and circle around. We can scout the area on the outskirts of town and investigate the roads in, all in the same pass.”
“Roads?” Roach furrowed his brow.
“Yes. Cars drive along them, in fact. They wouldn’t have gone through the forest to the gray clusters, and we don’t know the area enough to hone in on something. So, broad search it is.”
* * *
This vehicle looks like March custom ordered it. It was an impressively-sized four-door pickup with a camouflage paint job. With a solid bumper, a high snorkel, and wide wheels, it looked like a hybrid of a pickup and a tractor trailer. So impressive that Cheater wanted to take it across quicksand, or a swamp. Only a fortress wall could stop something like that.
And not even every fortress wall!
Fatso was appreciating the truck similarly as they stood a way off. “Let’s take it.”
Even Roach made no objection, though the car was quite out in the open. Its driver had driven it out of the gate. Leaving both it and the pickup’s door open. They couldn’t see whether there was any damage to the vehicle from this far away, so they could only guess at what had happened.
Of course, anything could occur in an infected city.
This area of the suburbs was low on plant life. New developments everywhere, with new trees that had not yet had sufficient time to grow. Thankfully the developments included fences which they could use for cover—at least until they reached the yard and the home it held.
Then...
Then they’d have to make a break for the truck and start it up. Unless they could find a key in the house, they’d need to hotwire the car. Cheater had no idea how to do that. He hoped that Roach or Fatso did. Would March really send the three of them if none of them knew how to get a car started?
He was the boss and knew best what could be expected from each of them. Right? Cheater had long since realized that the simple face and many cans of beer concealed a remarkably prudent, observant man.
Somehow they would get the car started.
This belief was further confirmed by the fact that Fatso made no mention of any problem. He selected a starting point where the bushes nearly touched the fence of the closest yard, and the party made its way.
Soon, they were engaged in old habits. Entering the house one after the other, they hastily rummaged through the kitchens, collecting anything that was edible. Their searches were far from thorough. Examining everything closely would have increased their chances of finding priceless loot, but it would also have taken them until evening.
Only in the very last house, the one whose spacious yard contained the precious pickup, did Fatso give them orders to take their time. It was a sensible decision. A car like that probably had an owner who loved serious weapons and stockpiled ammunition.
And the camouflage coloring boosted their chances even further.
In one of the rooms, Roach found just what they were looking for: a huge safe, and one that looked like an armory. Sadly, it only contained an air rifle, which was terrifying to beer cans but to nothing else.
All signs pointed to the safe being emptied in a hurry. Perhaps the best weapons were in the pickup.
Roach walked towards them with the look of a man immensely pleased with himself. “Look at what I’ve got, guys!”
Fatso shrugged. “Never played with toy cars as a kid?”
“What? These are the keys to the pickup! Let’s fire it up and get out of here.”
“You’ll get ignition faster by sticking them up your ass. That pickup is a Japanese make, but those keys are Korean. There’s a symbol on it that helps you out, you know. On the front. And another one on the back. And probably on the sides. You should pay more attention to detail.”
“Damn, I missed that.” Roach furrowed his brow. “So where’s the Korean car?”
“No idea. But I doubt one house has two useful offroad vehicles. Maybe a car for the wife, or something for less demanding drives. Alright, let’s do this. You two grab all of the food we found and follow me. While I’m starting it, you load it up, and get in yourselves. Just don’t make yourself too visible, or too loud. Our vehicle is out in the open and visible from quite a ways away. If the ghouls come around, don’t panic—just do what I say, and calmly. This is just a small town. We don’t have any clues telling us that larger creatures are around. If there are, well, they won’t realize we’re here immediately. They’ll need some time to figure out which way to go. I need two minutes to start the pickup. Maybe I can do it in a minute, but we’d better call it two.”
“That’s a good vehicle,” Roach warned. “Getting past the lock won’t be easy.”
“I have a telekinetic ability. No need for master keys or anything,” Fatso revealed.
Cheater had once seen a telekinetic make an ATM cough up a thick wad of bills in seconds. But he did not want to pry into Fatso’s ability.
Instead, he added something to their potential loot. “I saw decent clothes in those closets. All kinds of camouflage. Many of our party’s outfits are bloodstained, but there’s nothing to change into with our personal items all burned up.”
Fatso nodded. “Good thought. We should take them. Alright guys, let’s get moving, otherwise evening will arrive before we do.”
The loot from the house ended up weighing more than all of the items from the other houses. Cheater and Roach became walking hangers for all kinds of bags, sacks, and bales. Fatso did not help them. It seemed mean, but he was right. When they broke out into the open, at least one of them neede
d his hands free.
They never knew what might happen.
It was good that the gate was open. Cheater tried to make no sudden movements. He leaned over the side of the pickup, dumped part of his cargo, and then made for the rest piled up behind the fence. Roach did the same, but in a much more pronounced manner, waving his arms as he did so. That was the kind of motion that infecteds were enviably good at detecting from far away. The street alongside which the pickup sat was flat and straight for more than half a mile. All sorts of abandoned cars and other obstacles sat on it. Anything could have been hiding behind them.
Cheater tossed his bulkiest bag in—then had a hunch and turned his head to look at the other side of the street.
There, he saw it.
An infected standing in another open gate. It had lost shoes and clothes alike and no longer bore a human appearance. Besides its number of limbs and basic facial structure.
Thought calling what it had a “face” was a stretch.
Icy fear gripped his heart, but his mind calmly assessed his opponent’s level: between 20 and 30, most likely. It was either an advanced raffler or a young trampler. Either way, it was not an insurmountable opponent. Simple weapons could deal with it. As long as he did not give panic the reins and shot at exclusively weak spots. One lucky bullet to the head, neck, or chest, and he could start collecting the loot.
There were plenty of weapons prepared to let a bullet loose. After all, Cheater had managed to get a look at some of the items the pickup’s owner had left in the back. Bags and cases with weapons inside. But grabbing one and finding ammo for it would take too much time. Still, his prized pistol hung in its holster. He could grab it quickly, and if his Accuracy held, it would only take one shot.
Shooting now, however, would impart to all of the monsters in the town a feeling of urgent need to visit. No matter what Fatso thought about such things. His experience had shown him that even a decent group of runners could create an impossible situation. Not so long ago, March had been so occupied with escaping such a group that he had temporarily forgotten about beer.