Return to Yellowstone

by Heath Stallcup

  Hollis turned and strode from the room with purpose in his step. It had been a long time since he’d worn the uniform, and he felt the pride and purpose he’d once felt rising to the surface again.

  As he stepped to the helicopter he observed the techs testing the controls for the sonic canon. “Is it ready?”

  “Affirmative, sir. Just making minor tweaks.”

  Hollis checked his watch and saw the pilots walking out to perform their pre-flight checks. Just in time. He wouldn’t want it to be too late when they hit New Mexico.

  Hatcher continued driving along the highway, slowing only to navigate around those cars that were dead and sticking out into the roadway. Luckily, there weren’t any blocking the way entirely, but he knew that was only a matter of time. Bridges, on ramps, off ramps, anywhere the road narrowed and bottlenecked was a perfect place for them to get stuck. Even the large grill guard and heavy pipe bumpers could only do so much when it came to pushing dead machinery out of the way.

  “That was some hairy stuff back there.” Jason propped a boot up on the dash and flashed Hatch a grin.

  Hatcher resisted rolling his eyes, instead focusing on the road ahead. “That was nothing. The real hairy stuff is out there.” He indicated with his chin out the windshield of the truck. “Trust me, it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.”

  Bren shot a glance at Jason who only shrugged. “Hey, man. You forget we’ve been out there in this, too. It’s not like we just woke up and the world had gone to shit yesterday, ya know.”

  “You’ve been bouncing from place to place, scavenging for what you needed. This is a road trip across hostile territory, facing god only knows what—”

  “We know what’s out there.” Jason interrupted.

  Hatcher slowed the truck and shot him an impertinent stare. “Oh, you do? So, you’ve run into bands of renegade humans? You’ve come into swarms of the Zulus? I don’t mean the small bands of ten and twenty, I mean the swarms of hundreds…thousands of them. You know what to do when that happens?”

  Jason swallowed hard and averted his eyes, finding something interesting on his shotgun that apparently needed his immediate attention. A mumbled sound came from his mouth that neither Hatcher nor Bren heard.

  “What was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Hatch gripped the wheel tighter as he drove, his eyes narrowed.

  “I said, no, I’ve never run into a swarm. Happy now?”

  “No, actually, I’m not. I was hoping you had all kinds of experience surviving this apocalyptic nightmare. It would mean less work for me.”

  “Please. Will you two just stop.” Bren placed a hand on each of their arms. “Building animosity between the two of you isn’t going to make this trip any easier to get through.”

  “Hey, I didn’t start with all the Rambo stuff…”

  “Jason!” She squeezed his arm to get his attention. “We’re going to need each other. To trust each other. This isn’t helping.”

  Hatcher blew out a breath and lightened his grip on the wheel. “She’s right.” He shot a furtive glance toward to Jason. “I’m…sorry I busted your nuts back there. Things just…” he trailed off, his mind slipping back to how all of this started.

  “Yeah. Me, too, I guess.” Jason continued to stare out the passenger window. “I’m just so used to being the one in charge when it’s just me and her. I’m not used to having to listen to anybody else.”

  Hatcher nodded knowingly. “Well, kid, I can tell you this much. Once this trip is done, I’ll be out of your hair completely and you won’t have to listen to anybody boss you around except her.” He shot him a cheesy grin and noticed Bren smiling.

  “That’s assuming we survive this trip.”

  “Yup. Assuming we survive this trip.” Hatch slowed the truck and eased to the shoulder. “I haven’t seen any Zulus in a while and we have a lot of flat land around us. I’m going to check the truck for damage from our escape.”

  Jason opened the door and climbed up the back of the cab. “I’ll be able to see farther from up here.”

  Bren stepped down and went to the back. “I need to pee.”

  Hatcher made the rounds on the truck, paying special attention to the front bumpers and the axles. The drive shafts were clear, and nothing seemed to be dripping from under the truck. As he pulled himself from underneath the rig, Bren called out, “Hatcher. You might want to come back here.”

  Hatch glanced up at Jason, “I’m not sharing my toilet paper.”

  “She can use your sleeve,” Jason deadpanned.

  Hatcher rounded the back of the truck and froze in his tracks. Bren stood at the back of the truck, Skeeter by her side. She ran up and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly. “Surprise.”

  “Sur-surprise?” Hatch stammered. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “I snuck into the back of the truck before you left.” She beamed up at him. “I knew you’d be happy to see me.”

  Hatcher clamped his jaw so tight he feared he would break a molar. “Damn it, Skeeter!” He pushed her away and stared. “You knew better than to follow along on this trip. There’s no way I can watch after you and them.”

  “Why not? You watched after all of us back at the park. There were a lot more of us and you…”

  “And I knew that place. I don’t know this area. I don’t know the terrain, who’s out here, what to expect. This whole trip is a crapshoot.” He planted his hands firmly on his hips and stared down at the girl. “How could you do this? You’ve jeopardized everything.”

  Skeeter’s face fell and she backed away slowly. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “No, you didn’t Leslie. You knew exactly what I expected of you.” Hatcher glanced back the way they came and then at his watch. “And we’ve come too far to turn back. Not to mention all the Zulus are stirred up. We couldn’t get back inside the compound now if we had to.”

  Skeeter’s bottom lip began to quiver and she slid in next to Bren. “I just wanted to be with you when you got to the Free Zone.”

  Hatch turned a shocked look at her and shook his head. “Skeeter, there is no Free Zone. That’s just a fairy tale they tell little kids as a bedtime story. For crying out loud you’re eleven years old…nearly twelve. You should know better than to…” He sighed heavily and stepped closer to her. Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I thought you knew that.”

  She gave him a wounded look. Her hopes had been destroyed. Her dreams dashed on the broken asphalt with his words. How could he have said such a thing? “You’re lying.”

  “No, kiddo, I’m not.” He pulled her to him and she resisted at first. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Skeet. There is no Free Zone.”

  “This is heartwarming and all, but I still need to pee.” Bren raised a brow at the pair. “Can you take it to the cab?”

  Hatcher pulled Skeeter reluctantly to the cab of the truck and helped her up. “It’s gonna be tight up there. You’re gonna have to keep your head down when we tell you, and do exactly what we tell you, when we tell you. Got it?”

  “I got it.” Skeeter scooted across the vinyl bench seat and watched as Hatch stepped up into the cab and shut the door. A moment later, Bren was sliding back in, then Jason slipped down off the cab and into the truck with them. When the passenger door clanged shut, Hatch fired the engine back to life and pushed the truck into gear.

  “Jason, keep your eyes open. We’re not just looking for the Zulus, we need to be watching for renegade people, too.” Hatcher steered the truck around a dead car and back onto the road.

  “Renegades…are you serious?” Jason shot him a questioning look.

  “Deadly. We don’t know this area. There’s a good possibility that groups of people have established a stronghold and are acting as warlords or gangs or heaven knows what else.”

  “Great. This trip just ge
ts better and better.” Jason slid forward in the seat and placed his hands on the dash, eyes scanning the horizon.

  “Just keep your eyes peeled for anything that doesn’t look natural.” Hatcher shifted gears and pushed the old truck harder.

  “Define natural.” Jason cocked his head to peer out the side of the truck.

  “Stacks of dead cars, blockades, pits dug into the ground, anything that just seems out of the ordinary. I mean, you used to drive, didn’t you?” Jason nodded as he continued to watch. “Anything that didn’t look like it used to.”

  “So, everything?”

  “I think you’re smart enough to grasp what I’m getting at.” Hatcher pointed to a line of dead cars. “Like that. We’re used to seeing dead cars on the side of the road. But if we saw them coming together to form a funnel and cars turned to where they could be pushed to block the road at the narrowest point? That’s not good.”

  “Okay.” Jason nodded. “I think I’m catching what you’re saying.” He spotted the decaying bodies of livestock in the pasture to their right, carrion birds flying overhead or sitting atop the bones and picking at what little was left. “I’m guessing that is natural.”

  “It’s not a trap. We’re not concerned with things that aren’t traps.”

  “Crimeny. This is going to be a long trip.” Jason leaned back and moaned. “What makes you so concerned about traps out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway?”

  Hatcher shot the man a withering stare. “When you stumbled upon us, what were your initial thoughts?”

  “Relief.” Bren replied. “You saved us from the runners.”

  “After that.” Hatcher’s voice took on an edge and Jason and Bren both allowed themselves to remember the fear they felt when facing the men inside the warehouse.

  “Fear.” Bren whispered.

  “I don’t know how to put into words what I felt. Powerless, I guess.” Jason continued to stare out the windshield, but cast quick glances at Hatcher.

  “And we’re the good guys. Imagine if we hadn’t been. All the evil things you might have imagined wouldn’t even begin to touch what people are capable of once you’ve removed law and order from the picture.”

  Bren shuddered and Skeeter cast a worried look to her. “So, what would these people do?”

  Hatcher shook his head. On one hand he wanted to protect Skeeter from the horrors taking place out here in the world, but on the other he felt he needed her to understand why he made the decisions he made. With a heavy sigh, Hatcher leaned against the steering wheel. “Skeet, they do all sorts of horrible things. They’ll raid other people’s camps to steal food, weapons, equipment…anything they think they can use. If they feel it will help them survive, they take it and they don’t care who they hurt. They steal the women for sex or to be slaves. Sometimes the children, too, if they think the kids are of any worth.”

  Skeeter looked to him, her face blank. “What about the men?”

  “They just kill them. Any who are strong enough to help fight they assume will try to take revenge one day. The ones who aren’t strong enough to fight aren’t worth keeping around.” Hatcher turned a troubled eye to the teenager. “It’s a brutal world now, kiddo. All the more reason I wanted you to stay back where it was safe.”

  Bren wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And that doesn’t count the runners. You already know what they do to folks that they can catch.”

  Skeeter turned away and tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hatcher.”

  “What’s done is done. We just have to make the best of a bad situation.” Hatcher geared down and slowed the truck for cars blocking the highway. “Jason can you see around these?”

  “Nope. But I don’t see any that can be pushed to block the road.” He rolled the window down and stuck his head out. “Hold on a second.” He sat up on the edge of the door and stared out over the dead cars. Slipping back into the cab he began rolling the window back up. “I only see four cars and the sides of the road are clear. If you wanted to go around them you should be able to.”

  Hatcher slowed the truck even more and studied the flat landscape surrounding the blockage. It was a remote area, but a little too remote for this many cars to have blocked the highway completely. “My gut doesn’t feel right about this.”

  Hatcher stopped the truck about fifty yards shy of the dead cars. He leaned against the steering wheel and stared at the four cars sitting crooked in the road. “Something looks off over here.”

  Jason reached for the door handle just as Hatcher yelled, “Get down!” He shoved the truck into gear and popped the clutch, jumping the truck forward as a makeshift spear came out of nowhere and struck the front fender. Had he not leapt the truck forward, there was a good chance the front tire would now be flat. Hatch pushed the big military truck forward, his eyes scanning for the source of the spear. “I can’t see them!”

  Jason popped his head up and glanced out across his side of the cab. “I can’t see anything on this side, either.”

  Hatcher rolled the large truck to the first of the four cars and pushed the much smaller machine off the road and into the ditch. As the tires slid in the soft dirt and sand, he heard a muffled pop and saw dirt and debris fly up into the air through the side window. “They booby-trapped the right of way!” He mashed the accelerator and continued pushing cars out of the way.

  “I got one!” Jason pulled his shotgun up from the floor and was reaching for the window crank when Hatcher yelled at him to save the ammo.

  “Don’t waste your ammo unless we have to stop.” The truck jarred and jumped as each car impacted the heavy pipe bumper and was pushed out of their way. “If you roll down the window, they have a clear shot at our heads.”

  Rocks and more makeshift spears bounced off the thick metal sides of the truck. The rear window shattered into a spider web of cracks but remained in place as the truck was pelted with stones. Hatcher pushed the last of the cars to the side of the road and felt the whump of a blast as the side of the road erupted with flying debris.

  “Where the hell do they get explosives if they’re attacking the truck with rocks and sticks?” Jason yelled.

  “Those are spears.” Hatcher pushed the truck harder to accelerate and checked the side mirrors in time to see a small group of people scramble to the road and watch them drive away. “They’re either out of ammo or they were trying to scare us into driving off the road.”

  “This is nuts.” Jason turned around and tried to look out the back of the ruined rear window. “I can’t see shit behind us.”

  “I’m tempted to have you climb in the back and keep watch. Where there’s one group there’s likely to be more.”

  Skeeter turned to Hatcher and squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

  “The hell you will.” Hatcher shifted gears and mashed the accelerator again. “You’re keeping your skinny ass in the truck.”

  Jason huffed as he sat up straighter. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He opened the door and fought the wind as he stepped onto the running board. “Try not to hit any big bumps until I get back there.”

  Hatcher slowed the truck slightly while Jason climbed to the back of the truck. He leaned across the edge of the bedside and tapped on the glass. “Hand me the shotgun.”

  Bren rolled the window down and slipped the gun to him. “Be careful out there.”

  “You know it, babe.” Jason rolled across the tarp and grabbed the headboard of the truck, pulling himself up so that he could look out in front of the road ahead of them.

  Hatcher rolled his window down and yelled out to him, “Beat on the cab if you spot anything.”

  Jason tapped the cab once then settled in for what he was sure would be one hell of a ride.

  “Junior got his ass blowed up when they pushed the Mazda off the road.” The man was covered in dirt and the creases along the sides of his eyes looked as if someone had carved them with a knife. His long shaggy hair was filled with dirt and debris from ha
ving buried himself along the roadway. Brown spit splattered the road beside him as he spat the tobacco juice.

  “How’d he know we were here?” The tall leather clad man asked rhetorically. “We spotted them miles away and had plenty of time to get set up. This should have worked. Again.”

  “Maybe this’n is smarter than the others?”

  The leather-clad leader watched as the large military truck drove on, black smoke belching from the exhaust. He squinted in the midafternoon sun and shook his head. “Lucky is more like it.” He turned quickly to the others gathered around him. “Mount up. I want what’s in that truck.”

  The dirty man spat again and looked to the leader. “What’s in the truck, Simon? I only saw the driver.”

  Simon turned on him slowly. “Then that’s what I want. Everything in that truck is mine now. So, Simon says, get your nasty ass on your bike and run him down.” He slapped the filthy man upside the head, pushing him away from him.

  The group slid through the loose right of way and pulled the desert tarp from their motorcycles. One by one they mounted and fired up the two wheeled iron horses. As each man pulled up onto the roadway, dust billowed behind them. Simon Sewell had fought long and hard to become top dog of his motorcycle club before the world started trying to eat itself. He’d be damned if he’d let something as simple as the zombie apocalypse stop him from his ambitions. So, there was no way he’d let a fellow get away with crossing his territory without paying dues.

  And the dues for crossing Simon’s territory was death…

  Candy sat atop the roof of the warehouse once more, this time observing the area for Zulus out during the day. Fewer and fewer were coming out during the heat of the afternoon and were reserving their energies for hunting at night. She didn’t know if it was because more game was out at night or if the mad, screaming monsters were slowly turning nocturnal, but she was glad for the respite.

  She scanned the area and listened intently for any yells, yips, or screams. Her scope magnified the area so she could see clearly anything within shooting distance. She often prayed she could stumble across just one sign that things were improving. Perhaps a convoy of people, or the military, or even a damned ice cream truck at this point. She smiled to herself as she considered what she would actually do if an ice cream truck pulled up to the warehouse. She didn’t even carry money any longer. What use was it?