by Brown, TW
“We are not here for anybody but the people of Liberty. We have a list of priority items to try to acquire. Our only directive involving others is that we will back off if somebody has laid claim to an area. We are out to salvage and scavenge, not start a war…and we aren’t here on a rescue mission.”
She waited for the backlash and was surprised when the woman simply nodded her head. “Okay, then I will make sure we keep an eye on that light and inform you if it looks like somebody is trying to wave us off or anything like that.”
Jamie leaned against the rail and let herself relax just a little. By morning, the lookouts had reported nothing other than that single lantern. It winked out just a few hours before sunrise and no sounds or other indications of survivors manifested the rest of the night.
“Okay.” Jamie stood at the front door, her entire team assembled around her awaiting instructions. “I want to divide the team in half.”
She had given it a lot of thought as she drifted in and out of her catnaps. She had decided to have Bo take one group and she would lead the other. They would enter from opposite ends of the hospital. Bo’s group would be tasked to the emergency room area. Her group would be hitting the main prescription pharmacy. Since they would likely encounter a lot of undead, time was of the essence. Both groups were going to move in fast and have ten minutes to grab all they could.
“Hopefully you have all familiarized yourselves with the list, but with as many zombies as we have, I think it is just best to grab anything you can. Bandages, alcohol, iodine, basically anything you can stuff into your satchels. I know that Sophie went through a lot of trouble to prioritize that list, but I don’t think anybody realized how awful the hospital would be.” Jamie looked around as she spoke and saw grim determination staring back at her.
“Do we meet back here?” Bo asked. “Or would you rather we made for one of the fallback locations.”
“If we can meet here, try this spot first. Who knows…maybe we will do this in waves. Nothing says we can’t go back in. Sort of like disturbing a hornets’ nest,” Jamie answered. “We get things riled up, but once it calms down, maybe we can make a second and even third attempt.”
That seemed to satisfy everybody and after some handshakes and claps on the back, both teams headed out into the morning sun. They moved together down Monroe Street, and then separated at the highway with Jamie leading her team up to W G Acker Drive and Bo taking his group straight across the open field and up the small hill. They would be coming in from the south and Jamie from the north.
As she and her team hurried down the long, winding drive, they passed rotting corpses and smoldering military vehicles. It seemed impossible that so much carnage could exist in such a small area. If it was this bad here, then the major cities had to be beyond comprehension.
Fortunately, there did not seem to be much activity along the way. They followed the road as it curved around the side of the hospital and came to a rear entrance. Jamie signaled for the team to halt. They would be crossing a parking lot with what looked like the tattered remains of several large tents.
This was the end of their clear run. Several zombies could be seen milling about. A few pawed at cars that contained more of their number, most likely entombed forever. She turned to the group.
“Okay, this is not going to be pretty. We make for that entrance.” She pointed to a set of double doors that had been blown off their hinges. “Once inside, everybody stay close. If it moves, take it down. I don’t want us to leave anything behind that could present a problem when we make our exit. Most likely we will be in an even bigger hurry on the way out.”
Looking around, she saw lips tightly pressed and eyes sharp and focused. These people knew what was in store and were prepared to do what needed to be done. And while that was great, she was noticing a lot of the people in town sitting back and seeming to be happy with allowing others to do all the hard stuff; just another thing to add to her list of issues to take care of when they got back.
As she got up and started towards the hospital in a low crouch, she had a realization that put a smile on her face. She had thought in terms of when she returned to Liberty…not if.
***
Bo took the lead as they approached the Pickens Garden apartment complex. Oliver’s two story townhouse was at the far end looking out over Monroe Street. The hospital was just beyond that, across the highway.
He’d been glad when Jamie accepted his idea of using that location for their observation point without any questions. As soon as they had parked in the lot, he had wasted no time getting out in front. He wanted to be the lead on this in either case when it came to Oliver. If he was alive, then he wanted to be the first face Oliver saw; and if he was dead, then it would be him that put the man to rest for good.
He reached the door and pulled the bandana from his face. It would suck to break in and have Oliver shoot him thinking that he was a looter. Of course, with the Halogen head lamp he was wearing, he would likely blind the man for a few seconds and be able to call out.
He opened the door and was greeted by a figure standing in the middle of the living room. A wave of that all-too-familiar stink came at him full force and made his stomach seize just a bit. The figure in the living room turned to face him, head tilted to one side. There was a dark stain on one arm that had strips of the applied bandage dangling from it.
“I’m sorry you were alone at the end,” Bo whispered, and then stepped forward and drove his blade into the temple of the thing that was no longer his beloved friend and companion.
Sarah was right behind him and patted him gently on the shoulder as the two entered the townhouse and made sure that there were no other zombies. Once they finished, Bo had to just sit down on the floor and hide his head in his hands. Not only did he want to avoid any questioning glances, but he could not watch as Oliver’s things were rifled through as the team searched for anything useful. He knew it was a necessity, but he didn’t have to like it and he didn’t have to participate.
He felt Sarah sit beside him at some point, but he was so emotionally numb that he barely paid any attention to whatever soothing words she was whispering to him. His mind tried to reconcile the fact that he had come here knowing the most likely outcome. He also told himself that at least he had closure. None of that provided him any real solace.
At last Jamie rounded everybody up and split the team in half with him and Sarah sent to try and gather supplies from the emergency room area. He knew that would probably be the area with the heaviest concentration, but he did not say anything. Jamie was actually doing a really good job leading this team and he did not want to seem like he was trying to undermine her leadership. Besides, he really wanted to get in a few good licks against these walking bags of filth. He may never know which zombie ended his Oliver, but every zombie he met from here on out was the potential culprit in his eyes.
As they left Oliver’s home, Bo took one final look. He doubted that he would ever see this place again after this mission. He briefly considered taking one of the pictures from the wall or something else that might remind him of Oliver, but in the end, he decided against it; at least for now. He needed to be focused on the mission.
They made their way down Monroe Street and then the two groups split up. He led the way as they jogged across the sloping lawn that led to the front emergency room entrance. They could see the gaping hole where a series of doors used to exist. Beyond that, the way actually looked surprisingly clear.
Taking a deep breath, Bo motioned for his team to charge. As they crossed the open paved lot, some of the team veered off to take down a zombie in order to keep their retreat as clear as possible. When they entered the emergency room, the team came to a stop. The area looked like somebody had taken black paint and flung buckets of it at the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. Bodies were missing heads where shotgun blasts at pointblank range had taken them away, leaving jagged stumps and a splatter of gore in sinister parody of a halo where t
he body lay sprawled out or slumped against a wall.
The bodies were soldiers, doctors, nurses and patients. Some were missing limbs…or worse. Snapping his fingers to get everybody’s focus back on him, Bo pointed to the door that led back to the actual emergency room where patients had been treated. Once inside, they would empty carts and bust open lockers. Sophie had provided a hand drawn map indicating where some of the desired items would be stored.
A collection of bobbing lights hurried through the waiting room and reached the door that was their destination. By now, a few of the team had stopped, bending at the waist to be sick. Whether from a combination of the sights or the smells, Bo had no clue; he waited patiently for each person who was forced to stop.
Once everybody gave him the thumbs-up sign, he gripped the handle and pushed in the door to the room. Faces turned in their direction, all of them slack and emotionless. Tracer-ridden eyes appeared in the beams of light, but there was no point of red, or green light reflected back. These were all members of the walking dead. Their gazes gave no sort of reflection. For some reason, that struck Bo and gave him a chill. It wasn’t as if he did not already know what these were, but the added effect of their dead eyes not reacting to light simply increased the level of this already surreal experience to one that caused him to shudder.
“Move fast and stay in pairs,” Bo hissed. There was no sense in being silent, the zombies knew they were present and were even now staggering towards members of his team. He felt Sarah press up against him and he patted her shoulder.
A zombie lurched in front of them and Bo drove his knife into its temple. He quickly kicked it away and strode to the next, repeating his move. As he veered for a cluster of three, he called softly over his shoulder to Sarah, “Start filling those bags. I have your back.”
He did not even look to see if she obeyed or gave any sort of acknowledgement. It was time to visit some revenge on the undead. Sure, he knew they had no concept of his fury, but each kill brought him a degree of comfort. He was just pulling his blade from the top of the skull of a female soldier zombie when a hand clasped his left ankle, sending him sprawling on his face.
“Bo!” he heard Sarah yell.
15
Supplies and Fortifications
Ivan Potter moved among the bodies that had been dragged to a small section of grass just beyond some trees on the north side of the high school. While it was no secret what had taken place the night before, he did not see a reason to have everybody subjected to looking at the dead bodies of those who had been part of the Simms brothers’ little cult.
That word rang around inside his mind for a second and he shoved it aside. Ask him a month ago about a cult popping up in Liberty, South Carolina and he would have busted a gut laughing. Now, he was looking down at a woman that had served him pie in one of the town’s small restaurants. Kneeling beside the body, he brushed his hands down her face to shut her eyes.
“I think we have all of ‘em,” Stephen Deese said as he and another man laid down a body a few feet away.
“Can you believe they sacrificed their daughter to the devil?” one man whispered to another as they left the area and headed back to the school.
The word on this was going to be spread to everybody by nightfall. If folks got carried away or even more frightened, they might have a witch hunt on their hands.
Ivan stood and turned to Stephen. “Get the entire town here within the hour. I want to try and get this situation under control as much as possible.”
“Probably a good idea, I’ve already heard people whispering about who else might have been secret members of this little society.” Stephen wiped his forehead with a towel he had hanging from his back pocket and then headed towards the gymnasium.
Ivan moved down the line, trying to look at these people as the folks he’d passed on the streets or in the grocery store aisle, but for some reason, they all seemed different now. If such seemingly good people could go bad so fast, and in such a radical way, what did that say about those on the fringe? Even worse, what about some of those sick bastards that he knew to be out there?
Those bikers might have been a very small tip of a very large and ugly iceberg. Just twelve hours ago, he had been having doubts about Jamie Burns and her plan to seal off Liberty from outsiders. If he could not trust the men and women of this town, glancing down at his mailman he suppressed a shiver, then he sure as hell could not trust an outsider.
He paused at the body of Chastity Simms. Of all the bodies laid out here, this was the only one he considered a victim. He simply could not understand the mentality involved in such a thing. To believe that murdering your own child would bring God’s favor?
“She told me she was scared that her dad was going to do something crazy,” a voice whispered from behind him.
Ivan turned to see Lawrence standing a few feet away, tears running down his cheeks. He was holding a handful of wilted wildflowers in one hand; they were dangling at his side as if he had forgotten them.
“She couldn’t have guessed it would be this,” Ivan said. He walked over to the distraught young man and put an arm around his shoulder. “And I don’t think anybody could have guessed anything so crazy would have happened here. These were our friends and neighbors. It all feels so impossible.”
“Sort of like a zombie apocalypse?” the boy sniffed.
“Good point,” Ivan conceded.
Lawrence laid the bouquet beside the body and then followed Ivan back to the school where two teams were getting ready to start work on shoring up the defenses around the train. Logs were going to be rolled under the cars to keep zombies from being able to go underneath, and strands of barbed wire would be strung between them. Also, platforms were being constructed and would eventually be mounted on each end of the train as well as a spot in the center.
Sophie was standing in the entry doors her hands shielding her eyes as she scanned the throng of people going about their business. A terrible feeling punched the newly appointed chief in the gut and he turned to Lawrence and grabbed his arms.
“Tell me you have seen your mother since last night when all this crap happened!” he exclaimed.
“Uhh…well…” the boy stammered and sputtered. “Actually…” He let that word draw out for way too long.
”Dammit, kid,” Ivan growled, grabbing Lawrence by the elbow and steering him towards his mother.
A minute later, he was easing away from one of the biggest ass chewing sessions that he’d been witness to since the day that he’d vomited on Sister Mary Beverly’s shoes at the church picnic during his sixth grade year. It wasn’t so much the throwing up that had gotten him in trouble. It had been the fact that he and three other boys had slipped away from the party and gone to Lionel Wilson’s house and raided his parents’ liquor cabinet. He’d never even been able to smell Southern Comfort again without his stomach tightening up. Plus, he always felt a residual burning on his butt. He was pretty sure his mother had whipped his ass at a felony level.
As he was heading over to see if he could help one of the train details, he could not help but chuckle. Just a month ago, Sophie Martin would be receiving a visit from social services at the least. Right now, people were just walking past like nothing in the world was happening.
***
Jonathan stared into the gun leveled at his head. The fear he felt was at war with what he was seeing. Sure, the woman holding the gun was a big woman. In fact, he thought they might be pretty close to the same weight class if they were wrestling. Her face was ruddy and she looked like perhaps she had been in more fights than he’d ever taken part. Still, he was having trouble reconciling that a woman was holding him at gunpoint as four others climbed over his truck and stripped the rest of the people that had been with him on this run of all their belongings. They were even taking folks’ shoes and socks.
At least they were leaving the underwear, he thought morosely.
“Something funny, fat boy?” the woman holding t
he gun snarled.
Jonathan’s eyes returned to the woman holding him prisoner. He shook his head. “Not a thing. I was just thinking that I was grateful you folks weren’t stripping my friends of their drawers.”
He had no explanation, but a feeling of indescribable calm was settling over him. He was pretty sure that he was going to die any moment and that there really was nothing he could do about it. With all options off the table, it was as if his brain had simply come to terms with fate and shut off the fear.
“Trust me, if we see something in our size, we take that too,” the woman shot back.
“We didn’t come here looking for trouble,” Jonathan said, his eyes no longer focused on the gun. He looked into the eyes of the woman that he figured would be his executioner.
“That’s funny,” the woman said with a mirthless laugh. “Every group of raiders and rapists that we have encountered always say that once we have the drop on them. Yet, when they catch and kill one of our people, or they set fire to our shelter, steal our food…well then…”
“We were just out scouting for supplies ourselves,” Jonathan replied. “We even had orders to pull back if we encountered a group that had a claim on an area. We sorta figure there are enough places to search that we don’t need to encroach on others.”
“And just where is this benevolent community that you supposedly hail from?”
Jonathan thought it over. He shot a glance back to the bed of the pickup as one of the women of this group plucked rings from the fingers of one of the dead bodies. He could only see the hand, so he could not tell who was currently being pillaged, but seeing such disrespect for his friends steeled his resolve.
“You really think I would tell you?” Jonathan finally answered.
The woman cocked the hammer on her pistol and pressed it against his forehead. “Yes…I do.”
“You’re gonna kill me anyway, so why should I do anything to help you vultures?”