“Tatiana,” Priss corrected.
“Yeah, that’s it. I remember Zulu during firearms training. She was a decent shot.”
“Zelida, dumbass,” Priss corrected. “She could swing a bat too. That time last year when we were scouting in Lancaster and those zeds attacked, I saw her take out four of them with a baseball bat. She wasn’t a pussy. The rest of them talked a lot of trash, but they depended on others to keep them alive. Zelida could handle herself.”
“So, she’s driving, but they stop the van,” Liam states. “We’re not certain, but most likely they see someone they know and are not wary of.”
“That’d leave out Zach or Fred,” Priss said.
“Most definitely,” Logan said. “Rochelle despised Zach.”
“Despised. Good word, brother,” Liam said. “And if they despised Zach, they’d naturally despise anyone who was close to Zach, like Fred.”
“The same would go for strangers. If they stopped for strangers, Zelida would be on guard and ready to shoot,” Logan said. “She’d warn the others too.”
The three of them agreed that this was a targeted attack, and they speculated who may have done it and who may have conspired to have it done. Their analysis of the facts and circumstances convinced them the perpetrators were people they knew and were not afraid of. That would mean it would have to be someone from Mount Weather, Marcus Hook, or someone living in one of the nearby communities.
It was a little before noon when they arrived at the location of the burned house. The van was still there, undisturbed, as were the bodies.
“How did Fred find them here?” Priss asked.
Liam repeated Fred’s explanation of the reason he took it upon himself to search for them and how he found them. They made a cursory inspection of the bodies ensuring nothing had changed before rewrapping them and loading them into the back of the truck. It wasn’t difficult; the bodies, what was left of them, were frozen stiff and could be easily manhandled by the brothers.
They then drove back to the area on the road where Fred believed they were ambushed and parked. It was now a little after noon and the three of them were hungry, so they elected to have lunch before searching the area. Their meal consisted of cured ham, butter beans, and cornbread, which had all been packed in plastic food containers. They sat in the cab of the heavy truck and ate. There was no talking now. They ate and scanned the area. It was second nature now, even while eating. Logan had his window slightly open to listen for any sounds, but the only noise came from the truck’s heater.
When they were finished, Priss and Liam began searching the area while Logan cleaned the plasticware with snow. Storing the items, he started searching in the opposite direction that Liam and Priss had walked. This went on for an hour. During that time, they discovered no evidence, nothing that might aid them in their investigation. Logan had walked a couple of hundred yards down the roadway. He turned back to see Priss and his brother looking at a derelict automobile, an SUV that had been wrecked long ago.
There were cars and trucks everywhere. Most, if not all, had been searched of anything valuable. Logan did a slow three-sixty. There were a mixture of commercial businesses and residential neighborhoods in this area. As far as he knew, there was nobody living nearby. There were certainly no footprints or recent tire tracks indicating human activity. He hadn’t seen any indications of zeds either. If there weren’t any food sources, they tended to wander. The latest intelligence seemed to indicate most, if not all, zeds in this area had left. There was speculation that once patient Eve and her baby had escaped, they had fled to somewhere where they wouldn’t be hunted by the humans. Nobody seemed to know where they were though.
Logan walked back to the truck, where he met up with Liam and Priss.
“It’s cold as hell out here,” Priss griped.
“I think hell is supposed to be hot,” Logan retorted.
“Whatever, it’s too cold to be doing this. The snow’s covered everything up anyway.”
Logan did not say anything, but he agreed. Despite wearing heavy boots and thick gloves, his toes and fingers were numb.
“Did you two find anything?” he asked.
Liam shook his head. “If there’s anything out here at all, the snow is covering it up.”
“That’s what I said,” Priss grumbled.
“One thing we’ve not considered, brother. If the perps took the time to hide and burn the bodies, they probably took the time to clean up after themselves,” Liam surmised. “I bet when the snow thaws, we won’t even find a single cartridge lying around.”
Logan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. It also tells us a little something more about them.”
“Like what?” Priss asked.
“Anyone who would take the time to clean up the crime scene, you know, like pick up the cartridge casings or wash down any blood, wants it hidden because they’re somehow associated with the community. Marauders would not have cared.”
“Oh, I guess that makes sense. Alright, so who do you think did it?” she asked.
Logan exchanged a glance with Liam. Liam started to speak, but Logan interrupted him.
“We don’t have anything solid yet, so it would be premature to name anyone specifically,” he said.
“But you two have an idea, don’t you?” she pressed.
Logan saw the gentle nudge his brother gave Priss before speaking.
“No ideas yet,” Liam said.
Priss nodded. She knew she’d get it out of him later during pillow talk. Logan knew his brother would tell her everything. Hopefully, she’d keep her mouth shut.
“Alright, let’s get out of here,” he said.
Logan swapped with his brother and sat in the driver’s seat. Grinding the gears, the truck lurched forward, and they were on their way back to Mount Weather.
Chapter 7 – Bringing Home the Pres part 2
As a result of the endless pestering by Priss, when sundown came, they did not stop for the night and instead pushed on. It was risky. There was a slew of traffic hazards that were enhanced by the limited visibility, not to mention the headlights could be seen by anyone, friend or foe. Surprisingly, they had not spotted a single zed their entire trip.
They made it to the front gate at twenty-one hundred hours. After checking in, they parked the truck in the fenced in area by the motor pool and headed directly to the cafeteria. No surprise, one of Gil’s cronies was waiting and escorted them directly to the small conference room where Gil and a few others were waiting.
“Gentlemen, and ma’am, please give us an update,” he said as soon as they had seated themselves.
“The bodies are in the back of the deuce-and-a-half,” Logan said. “The cold will preserve them until you’re ready for the funeral.”
Gil nodded somberly, as did a few others. The brothers waited in silence. Priss was not so patient.
“Is that all you wanted?” she asked and cast a glance at her father.
He responded with a sour expression before speaking. “We are expecting an update to the investigation.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, we did not discover anything new, nor did we locate the missing trailer. Our hypothesis has not changed though; we still believe they knew who the suspects were.”
“Like Gunderson,” Gil said.
Liam shook his head. “The president, your wife, did not like Zach. Therefore, her entourage would not like Zach either, especially that big gal, Zelida. It stands to reason if Zach or anyone who would be considered friends with Zach had encountered them on the road that day, they would have been suspicious and on guard. Especially Zelida, she was the fighter of the group, right? At the first hint of trouble, there would have been a firefight. Like we said earlier, we found no evidence of that. The evidence indicates they were caught off guard.”
“What about Fred McCoy?” William Rhinehart asked. “Did you go question him?”
“Yes, we did,” Logan said. “He stated he was not
involved in any way. He also stated he has not seen Zach since he left.”
Logan waited for one of them, any of them, to ask why they had not been harder with Fred. He had an answer prepared that assuredly would not have gone over well. When nobody said anything, he continued.
“Oh, and Priss searched their house. She did not find any evidence of any member of the Gunderson family staying there.”
Rhinehart focused on his daughter, who nodded in agreement. “That tractor-trailer of Zach’s was not there either,” she added. “In fact, we did not see it anywhere, and I was looking close for it.”
Gil peered closely. “Are you saying you’d be able to single out that particular tractor-trailer from others that are abandoned along the roadways?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Priss said. She left out the part where she and her brother had once gotten caught by Zach breaking into the trailer a few years back. Zach did not take kindly to it. She involuntarily squirmed in her seat as the memory came back of Zach taking a switch to her backside.
“I still believe Gunderson and his family are close. Somebody is hiding them,” Gil surmised. “What about that sister of his?”
“Lisandra,” Priss said. “I doubt she’s hiding them. They don’t get along that well.”
“Doesn’t she live nearby?” he asked.
“Yes, she does. Zach put them up in a house a few miles from here over by the Shenandoah River. I think presently there are five or six people living there.”
“Alright, Miss Rhinehart, since you seem to be familiar with her, I want you to organize a team and pay them a visit.”
“You got it,” Priss said.
She got the impression the new president believed she and Zach were adversaries. In fact, over the years they had become good friends. Priss had once even made a pass at Zach, but to her chagrin she learned he was steadfastly faithful to his wife. She was not going to tell him this. As far as she was concerned, he could keep believing she did not like Zach. It could work to her advantage.
“Okay, what’s next?” he asked.
Logan stifled a yawn and cleared his throat. “Our next course of action is to go to Marcus Hook.”
Gil frowned, but then he yawned and looked at the clock. “Alright, I assume this is to continue your investigation. So be it. You two will be leaving in the morning?”
“Yes, sir. Right after breakfast,” Logan said.
Chapter 8 – The Funeral
Captain Justin Smithson was usually good at keeping his emotions hidden, but he was having a hard time now. He didn’t like it. The president had directed the entire Marine contingent to the funeral, and they were ordered to wear their dress blues. It wasn’t that the president, the deceased president, was not worthy of a funeral with full honors, but Justin always wanted at least one Marine at Fort Detrick and one Marine in charge of the QRF. It made sense and he explained his logic, but the current living president would have none of it.
The four women had individualized coffins built. Nothing fancy, plain wood and gently used bedding was upholstered into the interior. Since the women had been burned beyond recognition, the coffins were nailed shut: no open viewing for this funeral.
Justin gave a final inspection of his Marines. Each of them had a distinct odor of mothballs from the uniforms, but all of them had fresh haircuts and looked the way Marines were supposed to look.
He lined them up along the coffins at parade rest, where they stood for the duration of the services. Thankfully, only one person spoke. Unfortunately, Gil’s eulogy lasted for over an hour. He spoke of how kind and loving his wife was. That lasted maybe a minute. The next hour consisted of how, if she were still alive, she would have accomplished great things and would have been the most successful president ever, had her life not been cut short by the savage massacre perpetrated by Zach Gunderson. He then began tooting his own horn. He vowed to not only fulfill her legacy, but he was going to in fact surpass it, although there were no specifics to this proclamation, only inane rhetoric. After much mind-numbing rhetoric, he climaxed his eulogy by proclaiming the history books were going to tell a glorious story of the VanAllens and how they lifted America out of darkness.
The funeral was held outside. The weather reflected the collective mood, a soupy gray and chilly. Justin watched the audience in detached amusement. Some people were dignified and polite, some rolled their eyes or shook their heads at some of Gil’s proclamations. Some simply stood and left. Justin noticed many of them headed toward a building commonly known as the party barn.
Finally, it came time for the Marines to perform their services. Taps was played. The twenty-one-gun salute was given. The flag, there was only one, was expertly folded and presented to Gil. After it was over, the Marines carried the coffins one at a time to an area inside the perimeter where a new chicken coop was going to be built, but Gil felt that instead it would be a good spot for a cemetery. Once it was finally over with, Justin made a head nod to his Marines and they too headed toward the party barn.
Chapter 9 – Marcus Hook
The Fitzgeralds were sitting at the back of the cafeteria, seemingly enjoying their meal, but in fact were speaking in hushed voices as they surreptitiously eyed the O’Malley brothers, who were currently sitting at a table with Roscoe and Johnny G. The brothers had shown up an hour ago and had been seemingly socializing with everyone, when in fact they were asking veiled questions about Rochelle VanAllen.
“They found the bodies,” Little Joe informed them.
“Yeah, no shit,” Riley retorted.
Little Joe gave his sister an impatient scowl before focusing on his father. “How in the hell did they find them? I mean, we did a good job of cleaning up.”
“They were cops, back in the day,” their father said. “I guess they were more than lazy donut eaters. Let’s remember the plan and stick to it. I’m going to do my part now.”
Riley and Little Joe watched as their father stood, casually stretched, and walked over to the four men.
“Gentlemen,” he said with an earnest expression. “May I join you for a couple of minutes?”
“By all means,” Logan replied.
Trader Joe made himself comfortable in a chair beside Johnny G and put his hands in a steeple before speaking.
“It is my understanding we were on the road to Marcus Hook on the same day the president was on the road travelling to Mount Weather.”
“That appears correct,” Logan said.
Trader Joe caught a subtle glance between Roscoe and Johnny G but acted as though he did not see it. “I suppose you have questions for us, but let me reiterate what we’ve already stated before, we did not encounter the president or her entourage. We only saw a few zeds, that was it.”
“Did you kill them?” Liam casually asked.
Trader Joe was expecting this question at some point, but he thought it would be under a more formal interrogation. He was about to answer, but then Liam spoke again.
“The zeds, did you kill them?” he clarified.
Trader Joe smiled easily, masking his relief. “The kids wanted to, but they were off the road a couple of hundred yards or so and didn’t pose any kind of immediate threat, so I told them to save their ammo.”
“Did you guys see any smoke, like something had been burning?” Logan asked.
Trader Joe made a point of frowning and rubbing his chin. “No, I don’t believe so. Hold on a sec.” He turned toward Little Joe and Riley and waved them over. “Did you two see any smoke that day we went to Mount Weather?”
Riley shook her head. Little Joe scrunched up his face as if he were in deep thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
“I honestly don’t think I did,” he said.
“I can’t say I did either,” Riley said.
Trader Joe turned back to the O’Malleys. “If it was a significant amount of smoke, I believe one of us would have seen it.”
“What would you guys have done if you had?” Liam asked.
/> “Well, there isn’t supposed to be anybody living in that area, so if it wasn’t too far away, I suppose we would’ve investigated,” Trader Joe replied. Little Joe nodded in agreement with his father.
Liam nodded as well. “Yeah, that’s what my brother said you would have done, and I agree. So, you guys did not see or encounter any other live humans during that trip?”
“Not a one,” Little Joe answered, perhaps a little too quickly than his father would have liked.
Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That? Page 5