“What kind of proposition?” he asked.
“We are in desperate need of people manning outposts in the Mount Weather network. One outpost we have in mind is a few hundred miles from here. How would you like to do that?”
Clay stared, put his hands behind him, and leaned back on the bed.
“Man an outpost? Why would I do something like that?”
“Good question,” I said and thought for a moment. “Have you ever seen my office?”
“No, I haven’t.”
I made a head nod toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll show it to you. Perhaps it’ll make things clearer.”
I turned and knocked on the door. I heard the deadbolt turn and the guard opened the door.
“All done?” he asked.
“Not yet. Clay’s going with me,” I said and exited the room.
Clay hesitated a moment, but then hopped out of bed and followed behind me. I wasn’t worried that he’d try anything stupid—he seemed reasonable enough. I led him through the maze of corridors and down to the lower levels of the Mount Weather bunker with one of the guards following. Using my keycard, I unlocked the heavy metal door and led him in. The motion sensor activated the lights. Clay paused and looked around.
“Impressive,” he said.
I pointed at a couple of my dry erase boards that were full of notes, bullets, and timelines. “Those are an amalgamation of multiple projects with one ultimate goal.”
“The rebuilding of America,” Clay said.
“Yes.”
Clay nodded in understanding and inspected the dry erase boards with mild interest. After a minute, I pointed toward the far wall.
“Let me show you a map,” I said. Parvis had multiple rolled-up maps hung on the wall; road maps, topographic maps, resource maps, you name it. And, I inherited them after his death.
I unrolled one of the maps, a combination of a road and topographical map where Mount Weather was clearly outlined. There were circles surrounding Mount Weather, which made it appear a little like a bullseye. There were various other notes, mostly reference numbers to data stored on Weather’s hard drive, and some dots of various colors.
“The circles indicate increments of one hundred miles.”
“What are those colored dots?” he asked.
“I’m glad you asked. The green dots are contacts with friendly survivors. The blue dots are survivor groups that are formally a part of our network. The black dots are abandoned locations. That is, survivors we’ve contacted, but have since disappeared. The orange dots indicate a heavy presence of zeds, and the red dots indicate hostile survivors.” I pointed. “As you can see, we have no blue or green dots along the Mississippi River.” I then pointed at the singular green dot in the town of Louisiana.
“Team Mad Dog is currently in this area. They have encountered a small group of survivors; two women and a child. There is a radio tower there located close to the Mississippi River. It would make an excellent observation post.”
“Why aren’t those women doing that?” Clay asked.
“According to Melvin’s report, one of them is dying of cancer and the other one may not be capable of doing the job.”
Clay frowned and walked closer to the map. “Louisiana, Missouri? It looks like a pretty good distance from here.”
“Yes, a little over eight hundred miles.”
Clay grunted. “You people sure are serious about banishment.”
I did not respond. In fact, I had several locations picked out, like Dayton or Cincinnati, but I was voted down. Clay continued staring at the map, as did I. My eyes drifted to the gray dot located in Michigan’s upper peninsula. It was one of many spots where artificial lighting has been detected from a satellite feed. In fact, Grace and Garret had been conducting satellite surveillance of the world for a few years now. They’ve spotted artificial light sources from fifty-seven different locations in the continental United States. To date, we’ve only explored a couple of them. As I mentally began the outline of a mission, Clay pointed toward Kansas.
“Green dots in Kansas? What’s up with that?”
“Old missile silos,” I said. “Back before, some enterprising individuals bought some former silos and converted them to doomsday bunkers. They sold shares to rich people. Each one houses fifty to a hundred people.”
“But they’re green dots,” he observed.
“Yes. We have regular radio communications with them, but they see no reason to proclaim themselves part of the network right now. I guess I can’t blame them. We don’t have much to offer. Not yet anyway.”
He nodded and pointed back to Missouri. “The whole state is blank.”
I nodded again. Melvin had sent a message about this so-called professor, but I was not sure the proper color dot for him and his group. I certainly did not want to put a red dot on the state while Clay decided what he was going to do.
He pointed south. “Not much here either.”
“Yes.”
He was right. We did not have a lot of blue dots in the south.
“You never said what the gray dots are,” he said.
“Gray dots indicate our scout teams have found evidence of survivors, perhaps even sightings, but no actual contact has been made,” I said. I then sat at my desk and opened my laptop. After it booted up, I motioned for him to have a look.
“These are pictures of the Missouri area and the location in question.”
I turned the laptop to Clay. He gazed at the picture on the screen and then looked up in puzzlement. “That’s the radio tower?”
“Yes. There was a man who lived there. He was doing well, but apparently fell out of a tree stand and busted himself up.”
“That had to suck,” Clay remarked. “I take it he’s dead.”
“Yeah, he ended up killing himself,” I said.
Clay gave a slight nod. He understood. He picked up the stack of photos and began examining them. He paused when he saw the picture of Merlin’s corpse.
“Did you guys figure out who he was?” he asked.
“He left a note. His name was Merlin LeBlanc.” I pointed to a couple of the photos showing the interior of the radio station. “The radio station itself is a solid concrete construction with a basement. He apparently worked there when it went bad. He converted it into a home and hid the basement door with a false wall. He had a decent inventory stored down there.” I pointed to some other photos. “He had some nice improvements, a perimeter of concertina wire, a few gardens, a wood stove, observation platforms at various heights on the tower. It has a perfect view of the Mississippi. A perfect place for an outpost.”
Clay finished looking at the photos before speaking. “What exactly will be required of me?” he asked.
“Monitor everything and report it,” I replied. “Any traffic going up or down the Mississippi is important, but any contact with survivors or any large horde of zeds would be important information as well. If we can man this location, if I can put a blue dot on that spot, we are going to create a route to that location with secure waypoints. I can’t emphasize enough the importance of this to the continuing process of rebuilding America.”
“So, you want me to sit up on one of those platforms all day long?”
I went into my desk and pulled out a trail camera. “We’ll supply you with a couple of these. Set them up each morning, go do whatever you need to do, and download them in the evening. Review the data, and if you spot something, get on the radio and report it.”
He pointed at the map. “Will the Russians come through Missouri?” he asked.
“It’s possible,” I answered.
“Okay, not to be an asshole who only thinks of himself, but what do I get out of it?” he asked.
“We’ll transport you there with enough provisions and equipment for you to survive. There will be supply runs made. They may not be regular and timely, but they will happen. It is my desire to set up Missouri as a waypoint into the Midwest, so I’ll want you to travel ar
ound and find us a good storage tank for diesel and housing. When I say housing, you’ll be tasked with creating zed-proof housing. There will be many things we’ll want you to accomplish. To quote an old friend of mine, you’ll be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”
Clay chuckled at that. “So, I do this, and then what happens?”
“Five years,” I said. “Do it for five years. Think of it as a prison sentence, only you won’t be in a prison. You’ll be your own man. At the end of five years, if you want to come back, your sentence will be commuted. President Stark is ready to prepare the order.”
“He may not be around in five years,” Clay mused.
“He is going to prepare a document explaining everything to whoever may be president. If I’m still around, I can assure you it will be honored. Besides, in five years, we may have made that location another community. If that happens, you’ll be the head of it.”
Clay stared off into space and let out a long sigh. “So, I am to be cast out in the wilderness,” he said. “To the beasts of earth and to the birds of heaven I give you as food.”
“I see you know your bible,” I said. “But I don’t think what Ezekiel was talking about applies to your situation.”
He acted like he was about to retort, but instead, sighed again and scratched his beard.
“Do I get to take my wife and daughter with me?”
“Certainly, if they’re willing,” I said.
“And we’ll be provided with rations?”
“Absolutely. Food, water purification equipment, weapons, ammunition,” I said, thought a moment, and then reached for my computer. “Melvin sent an inventory of what Merlin stored in the basement. Have a look.”
He read it for a full five minutes before saying anything.
“I must admit, it’s impressive. So, what if I say no?” he asked.
“It’s your choice. Understand though, if you turn it down, the alternative is permanent banishment.” I gestured at the map. “You’ll still be dropped in Missouri, but our responsibility to you ends then and there.”
He stared at the map for another two minutes before speaking. “I’d need to discuss it with the family before I decide.”
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll put in a call and make the arrangements to bring them here.”
We talked about it for the next hour. I continued the sales pitch of Mission One—the rebuilding of America. He asked numerous questions and seemed genuinely interested. I hoped he was and not simply shining me on. I’d had some limited conversations with Clay in the past, but nothing in depth. I must admit, I found myself liking the man. I wish he hadn’t killed Dalton. He was a good guy too. Clay looked up to see me staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head slightly. “Dalton would’ve made you a good son-in-law.”
Clay’s face clouded. “You’re not the first person who’s said that,” he murmured.
After lunch, I decided I’d been cooped up far too long and went outside. It was turning into a muggy day, and the humidity seemed higher than normal which made me wonder if rain was in the forecast. After the world population took a nosedive, the reduction of the human population and the cessation of manufacturing caused a definitive shift in the climate. The weather had been cooler these past few years, but this June was turning into a hot one and the temp had gotten into the nineties once or twice already.
I was going to grab a golf cart and ride around the compound but opted to check on the horses first. They were all in the corral. There was fresh hay and the water trough was full. I nodded in satisfaction.
Entering the barn, I found Sammy in the back, sitting in a chair and sharpening his prized possession, a nine-inch drop-point knife Fred had given him for his fourteenth birthday. Since the rumor was started, Sammy had been a little distant from me. I’d been so busy I’d not been able to get any time alone with him, so when I saw him sitting there, I gave a hopeful grin. He did not respond in kind. I was undaunted and sat in a nearby chair.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
He answered with a shrug, which flexed his shoulders. The T-shirt he was wearing was tight on him and accentuated his taut frame.
“You’re getting some muscle on you,” I said.
“I’ve been working out,” he replied.
“It shows. I remember once upon a time I met a skinny kid fresh from Oklahoma. You probably weighed seventy pounds, soaking wet.” I chuckled. “Not anymore though.”
Sam responded to the compliment with another halfhearted shrug.
“No school today?” I asked.
“I’m meeting with Garret later for calculus tutoring.”
I nodded. “So, you and Kelly talked.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there anything you want to ask me?”
“Kelly said she’s trying to cause problems with the president. Serena’s mom disagrees and said Senator VanAllen never did it.”
“Sammy, all I can say is I’m not making this up. She said it to me directly. Now, whether she plans on following through with the threat, I do not know. She’s officially made her announcement and she’s bad-mouthing the president and anyone associated with him like nobody’s business.
“Mudslinging,” Sammy said.
“That’s one word for it,” I said and focused on him. “You know I’d never do anything like she’s claiming, right?”
“I know,” he said in almost a whisper. His face was contorted, and it looked like he was about to cry.
“Hey, big guy, I’m serious. I’d never betray our friendship.”
He swiped at his eyes. “She told me last night she didn’t think she loved me anymore.”
“Who, Serena?” I asked. Sammy nodded.
I held back a sigh and leaned back in my chair and thought a moment before speaking.
“Okay, I’m going to be brutally honest, and that’s because I’m your friend and you deserve it. The two of you are still kids for the most part.”
“I work as hard as any man,” Sammy countered.
“Yes, you absolutely do,” I said in agreement. “But your emotions are still at the teenage level. She’s probably a little overwhelmed at the thought of becoming a mother and it’s causing her to have doubts. Like I said, she doesn’t yet have the emotional maturity of a grown woman.”
“So, what do I do?” Sammy asked. When he looked at me, he looked like a lost child.
I gave him a patient, big brother smile. “The only thing I can tell you is to have patience. A lot of patience and understanding.”
Sammy seemed to nod in understanding but stared at his knife for a solid minute before speaking.
“It might not be mine,” he said. “The baby. It might not be mine.”
“Did she tell you that?” I asked.
“No, but I have my suspicions.” He then stared directly at me. “I mean, I know it’s not you, but I have my suspicions she might not have been faithful. Why would she do that to me?”
This time, it was my turn to shrug. “Sometimes, people get tempted. The logical part of their brain will tell them it’s wrong, but sometimes the temptation is too strong.”
“Has that ever happened to you?” Sammy asked.
The question came as a surprise, although it shouldn’t have. Was I going to lie or tell the truth? I took a deep breath.
“Yes, it has.” I told him everything. When I was finished, he was staring, wide-eyed.
“And Riley took the blame?” he asked. I nodded. “Wow.”
“This is something I’m telling you in confidence, okay? I hope you’ll keep this to yourself. Don’t even tell Serena.”
“You have my word,” Sammy declared.
“That’s good enough for me,” I said and stood. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. The trail cameras are overdue for fresh batteries and downloading. Why don’t we saddle up some horses and take care of it?”
Sammy’s face brightened. “I’m good with that.�
�
Chapter 46 – Team Mad Dog
The seven of them had devoured every bit of the catfish.
“I’m so full, I can’t hardly walk,” Natty had said with a boyish grin. Everyone chuckled in agreement.
“I ain’t had a meal like this in a while,” Big Tussey said with her own grin.
“Everything was delicious,” Liam parroted. The other men voiced their own agreement.
“You’re a fine cook,” Melvin said to Claudia.
“Why, thank you. Back in the day, I cooked a lot.”
“Whenever we had a church function, everyone always wanted Miss Claudia to make the desserts. She baked the best pies you’ve ever had. I can still taste them,” Big Tussey said and licked her lips at the memory. The men chuckled at her antics.
“I’m so glad you men came this way,” Claudia said. “We don’t venture out far anymore.”
“We still have infected here and there,” Big Tussey said. “There ain’t many, but we don’t have much ammo left and try not to waste it on those stinkers.”
Melvin nodded. “We have the same issue. It’s hard to keep a good supply of ammo when there are always zeds around trying to eat you.”
Claudia wiped her mouth, put the rag on the table, and folded her hands in her lap.
“Do you men intend to stay long?” she asked.
“Miss Claudia, we certainly don’t want to wear out our welcome. We are going to leave at sunup,” Melvin said. The other men echoed in agreement.
The big woman stretched and cracked her knuckles. “Me and Claudia have been talking and we like you boys. If you don’t mind staying a day or two, you could sure help us out.”
“Like how?” True asked.
“Well, there’s a few things that I can’t do myself, and Claudia is, well, she’s been a little on the sickly side lately.”
The three men glanced at Melvin, who in turn looked back at his men, who gave tacit nods of assent.
“Well, we can stay a day more, I suppose,” he said.
Big Tussey erupted into a belly laugh and slapped the table for effect. “This is great!”
Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens Page 28