Del knelt and looked off to his right and saw Clayton behind a clump of corn stalks. When he looked to his left, he didn’t see Mason but knew he couldn’t be far away. There was a slight shift in a bushy set of weeds, and he saw Mason’s face looking his way. Mason held up his index finger, which was the signal to hold up. Del passed the signal onto Clayton, who held in place.
When Del shifted his focus back to the farmhouse, he saw a homestead that had probably been pretty nice before the dead rose. He imagined a farmer and his family made a good living off all the acreage spanning behind the house and off to the east. Now, the place looked ramshackled and near ruin. Yellow paint peeled off its sides, exposing weather worn wood. A few of the windows had been broken, and Del imagined the floors inside were in bad shape from the rain that had poured in over the past year.
But he knew he wasn’t here to buy the place. His eyes scanned the windows and the sides of the house for any movement but saw none. He wondered if the road bandits were even still there. Clayton had seen them there earlier; that didn’t mean they were coming back or were there now. Still, the overriding factor that said they were still there was the SUV.
The only way to tell was to check the place out. He looked to Mason, who once again raised his hand and then pointed forward toward the house, the signal to move forward.
Just as Del started to rise, the roar of a car engine sounded in the distance, and he ducked back down. He glanced toward Mason, and he held up his hand in a clenched fist, which was the signal to hold. Del passed the signal onto Mason.
The engine sound continued, neither getting louder or softer, staying at a steady loud purr. There was no sign of a vehicle at all, but it was close, so Del guessed it was on the other side of the house.
Del looked toward Mason again, who still held his fist in the air. The volume of the engine increased, and a dark SUV came into view on the other side of the farmhouse. It eased out onto a gravel road and then picked up speed, kicking up a dust cloud in its wake as it headed toward the roadway. It passed out of view in less than five seconds. In that short time, Del could only make out dark forms inside. There was no counting them, but it looked full of people.
The three men in the field exchanged glances that could only be interpreted as ‘What the hell do we do now?’
Where the house had been full of stored up danger before, the departure of the SUV seemed to have deflated the threat, like letting the air out of a balloon.
The men continued to look to each other for some sort of a cue. It was as if none of them wanted to step up. After a few more seconds, the hot potato fell to Mason by default, who paused for a moment then finally broke the silence. “Let’s move up but slowly.”
The three of them remained several feet apart and started toward the farmhouse but made no effort to conceal their approach. That didn’t mean they were relaxed. All three men had their weapons up and aimed at the house, ready to let them rip if anything moved.
Del thought Clayton looked a little too eager to do that, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he was all that behind Clayton’s desire just to riddle the place with bullets, but he restrained himself.
As they got closer to the farmhouse, without talking, they broadened their separation, each one of them focusing on a different portion of the house. Mason took on the front of the house, and Clayton moved toward the back. By default, Del had the side of the house, with its three sets of windows. In the center, there was a set of three windows with lace curtains partially obscuring the view inside.
Del made those windows his goal, but he moved toward the wall beside them. He didn’t want to be directly outside the window if someone was still inside. His gut said the house was now empty, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
With his back against the side of the house, Del edged toward the windows. As he stood beside the window, he listened as hard as he could. There were no footsteps. No talk. No signs of life.
Del eased his head toward the window and tried to see through the gossamer thinness of the lace curtains. There was a long wooden table with matching high-backed chairs surrounding it. One was tipped over, its legs sticking out, making the chair look dead.
He heard something off to his left and saw Mason disappear around the front of the house. Since there was no door on this side of the house, he decided to follow Mason. Besides, he might need some backup.
He half-rushed to catch-up and nearly startled Mason.
“Hells bells, you scared the shit out of me,” Mason said.
“Sorry,” Del replied.
Mason glanced at the front of the house, assessing it.
“Do you think anyone’s in there?” Del asked.
Mason looked conflicted as if he didn’t want to commit to an answer, but he broke. “No, but we have to act like there is.” He paused and took another look at the front of the house again. “The front door is partially open. I’ll go up on the porch first. You follow.”
Del knew it wasn’t an order, but he decided to follow it as if it were.
Mason must have decided not to go straight up the stairs and, instead, grabbed the porch railing and vaulted over it, landing with a dull thud and his rifle ready. Del could only guess that Mason was thinking anyone still inside would be targeting the door. He decided to follow Mason’s lead and moved to the opposite end of the porch, where he climbed over the railing but didn’t succeed with being as graceful.
A wicker rocking chair lay on its side next to Del. Someone had broken one of its legs, and the wicker looked like it was rotting after being exposed to the weather. Not that Del cared about the chair. He just thought it looked forlorn, lying used, abused, and discarded.
He also noticed the large drops of blood leading up to the front door. They looked fairly fresh.
He looked over to Mason, who pointed at himself and then the door. Mason headed toward the door, moving as silent as a ninja. He was beside the door in five seconds and then motioned for Del to make his way there. Del made his way to the door, but his appraisal of his stealth was a harsh one. He felt he was about as quiet as an elephant.
Mason put out a hand and pressed on the already partially open door. It swung open with a slight creaking noise, making Del think of the old haunted mansion movies he watched as a kid. A slight chill climbed up his spine, and he shook it off.
The open door exposed a foyer and a lot more blood. The floor was dotted with small puddles of it. A set of wooden stairs with an ornate hand railing led up to the second floor. Next to the stairs was a long hallway that led into the recesses of the house. Doors flanked either side of the foyer, leading off to different rooms.
Del had a view into what looked like a living room. He could see an overstuffed chair with a floral pattern and a long coffee table that lay on its side. He also saw a pair of legs just in view. The legs were clad in dirty and well-worn denim that seemed darkened by something red colored and moist. Given the trail of blood leading that direction, Del guessed the blood had come from the body in the living room.
He looked to Mason and tried to think of a way to communicate what he was seeing with gestures but decided it would take too long.
In a whisper, he said, “I see a pair of legs in the living room.”
“Moving?”
“No. Lying on the floor. Very still.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “I see a family room. It looks empty.”
They went into pause mode for a moment before Mason said, “Cover me, I’m heading into the living room. You take a look in the family room. Watch up the stairs, just in case.”
Del nodded.
Mason crouched down, and with his rifle up, slid into the foyer and pivoted himself to head into the living room. Del timed it so that they didn’t collide while they entered and stepped into the foyer.
There was a cool stillness to the house. To him, it felt empty and dead.
He took two steps over to the doorway into the family room and surveyed it. There was a fl
at screen TV attached to the wall. Its screen was dark, looking like a painter’s black canvas, never to be painted on. There was an expensive looking leather couch with a matching chair positioned at viewing angles toward the TV. The floor was littered with open cans of food, ranging from Spam to vegetables.
Somebody had been messy in there.
Del turned back toward the living room and saw Mason standing in a relaxed posture just inside the doorway. He was looking down at what Del presumed to be the body attached to the legs he had seen.
As quietly as he could, Del made his way to Mason. His eyes immediately went to the body on the floor. It was a man in his late twenties or early thirties with a long brown beard, wearing blood soaked jeans. His shirt was ripped off, exposing most of his torso and blood covered jacket lying on the floor. There was an ugly looking bullet hole in the man’s back, just below his armpit. He was also very, very dead.
Blood covered the floor, soaking the carpet. There was some medical supplies strewn about. Blood soaked gauze. Bandages and a few syringes.
“It looks like they tried to do some half-assed surgery or something,” Mason said.
“Didn’t work, obviously,” Del said.
A thud sounded in front of them, coming from deeper inside the house, and both men jerked up their weapons. At the back of the living room, an open doorway led into what looked like a small dining room.
Mason went to one knee and aimed at the doorway. Del took a long backward step and ended up in the doorway of the living room with his rifled pointed at the doorway into the dining room.
A few seconds ticked off, and Clayton’s head appeared in the doorway, his rifle held at the ready.
“Well, shiiiiit,” he said, stretching out the word. “You assholes could have told me you were heading inside.”
Everyone relaxed, letting out long breaths.
“Anyone else here?” Clayton asked as he stepped into the room, taking in the body.
“Haven’t checked upstairs, but we think it’s clear,” Del said.
“Who’s the stiff?” Clayton asked.
“I was getting ready to ask you,” Del said. “Is this the guy you said you shot in the SUV.”
“Who the hell knows?” Clayton said. “It was going by me at twenty or thirty miles per hour. But yeah, it could be him.” He took a long look and said, “Probably is.”
“What now?” Del asked, looking at Mason.
“First, we have to clear this place. If it’s like I think and there’s no one here, we check for anything useful.”
“What are we doing about the SUV that left this place?” Clayton asked.
Mason took a hand and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment then said, “It’s probably long gone, but I’m checking in with Donovan to see if we should pursue it or not.”
“We only have ATVs,” Del said.
“I know, but they could be headed back toward a nest of their friends, and we don’t want to stumble upon them.”
“There is that,” Del said.
“First thing first,” Mason said. “Let’s clear this place.”
They broke up and searched the house. It was clear that someone had been staying here for a while. The beds were disheveled, and the sink was full of unwashed dishes. They did find some canned food and bottled water. Under one of the beds, Clayton found a Glock with a box of ammunition.
They reconvened in the family room, wanting to be away from the body, and shared their findings. Mason let them know that he had talked to Donovan and Jo, and they said to return to the convoy. Neither Del or Clayton argued with the decision.
Things changed when they stepped back out onto the front porch and heard the sounds of distant gunshots coming from the east. All of them stopped and looked in that direction.
“Maybe they’re hunting?” Clayton said.
“Shuuuuu,” Mason said as he cocked his head to listen more intently.
Gunshots would sound then there would be some answering shots. This went on a couple of times before Mason finally said, “It sounds like a shootout or a battle.”
“Yep,” Clayton said, his eyes narrowing and his shoulders slumping a little. “I’m assuming you want to check it out.”
“I think we have to,” Mason said.
“Of course, we do,” Del said. “How could we do anything different?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Mason called back to Donovan and Jo, and they agreed. They added that the away team needed to hurry. The horde wasn’t that far behind them.
“Let’s get cracking,” Mason said. “I’ll get Ron and Denny to bring up the ATVs.”
As Mason jogged across the field, the gunshot exchanges to the east diminished but didn’t abate completely. A shot would be fired, and there would be a couple answering shots. To Del, it seemed like an argument. One person would yell and someone would shout back.
He was not all that cheerful about their new assignment but knew it wasn’t his to question why, only to do or die.
Chapter 24
Surprise Encounter
The holding pattern, waiting to see if the coast was clear, seemed to have lasted forever. It took nearly an equal amount of time to get the caravan moving east again. The people felt safe where they were, despite knowing they really weren’t with the horde on its way.
Jo felt a ominous presence coming at them from the west. It seemed like deep, dark clouds of a thunderstorm with the threat of heavy winds and lightning were behind them.
She was in the lead vehicle again, piloting the truck. Sergeant Jones had the shotgun seat, resting his arm on the door. The Benton sisters were, once again, in the back seat. Ryan and Madison took their place in the bed of the truck with the triple N’s again -- Nick, Nora, and Noah.
Since the away team had the ATVs, the convoy was truncated with the truck leading, the tractor behind them, pulling the trailer following them. Behind the trailer was the Jeep with Donovan, Casey, and Troy, and the dune buggy had the back end of the convoy.
It shouldn’t have been so cumbersome to get back on the road, but they eventually made it. The weather continued to be on their side, but they could feel a slight chill in the air. The leaves looked close to changing. This brought on worries because Jo knew they had to find a place to shelter before winter fell on them. But she knew they had bigger fish to fry. Zombies were on their way. Lots of them
Jones asked, “Why do you think the zombies are grouping up in a giant horde?”
“I was going to ask you that,” Jo replied.
Clara Benton’s head popped up between the seats. “I was going to ask that same question.”
Jones stared off into the field they were passing for a few seconds and then looked back inside the cab. “When were at the base, we faced a lot of zombies. Some big groups. We found they liked to...to flock together. Sort of like birds.”
Jo said, “We’ve seen that, too. In a school across the church where we first were, we came across a nest of zombies in the basement. It was like they were hibernating down there. So, they do act like animals or like birds.” She paused for a moment then continued, “We rarely saw them roaming solo. It was like they always grouped up.”
Clara said, “Maybe they just started grouping up, and the group just kept getting larger and larger. Maybe one large group merged with another, and this just multiplied.”
“But why are they heading east?” Jones asked.
“That’s the $64,000 question,” Clara said. “Animals migrate, but that’s mainly to procreate. Obviously, that’s not what these creatures are doing.”
“Maybe it’s the tides,” Gertie Benton said from the back seat, “or the moon cycles.”
“Gertie, you could go on and on searching for answers,” Clara said. “It just matters that they are there and moving our way.”
“I wonder if they would just stop or change direction?” Gertie said.
“We can’t count on it,” Jones said. “I know the soldiers at the Manor were monitoring th
e horde for a while. It was moving Northwest to Southeast on a diagonal. I don’t think they would have left the Manor if they thought the zombies would veer off. Lieutenant Braden told me it looked like the horde was on a direct path through this area. He also said the horde was so big that he didn’t think the Manor would provide enough protection.”
Jones’ answer sunk in on the people inside the truck. All of them had seen the horde at the farmhouse as it swept into the area like flood waters. There were so many of them, it was if the horde were swallowing up land around the farm.
“I’m hoping and praying you’re wrong, Mr. Jones,” Gertie said.
“I’m with you,” Jones said.
Jones leaned forward in his seat and grasped the satellite phone lying on the dashboard. Wires led off it and across the dashboard to a small bank of solar cells.
“What’s this sat-phone for?” he asked Jo.
Jo was quiet, and he sensed a hesitancy in her. She finally answered, “We had it back at the Manor to communicate with one of our groups who went off-site.”
Joel and his team had left the Manor just as the troops arrived. They had a mission to get Jason Carter somewhere north. Jason was a one in a million. Maybe one of a kind for all they knew. He was immune to the zombie virus.
“Where did they go?” Jones asked,
Jo didn’t meet his gaze and gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. “North somewhere. We’re not sure.”
“Didn’t they use the sat-phone to call you?”
“Yeah, about that,” she said, “your arrival with Colonel Kilgore didn’t make that very easy. We guessed you could track it, so we only sent short texts.”
This time, Jones went silent. He knew his role in the initial occupation of the Manor and its people was still hanging over him with Jo and her people. And he wished he had stood up to Colonel Kilgore earlier, but he had served with the Colonel for years. Bucking authority isn’t something the military rewarded.
“When was the last time you spoke with them?” Jones asked.
“I didn’t have the phone,” Jo said. “One of our other people did.”
The Deadland Chronicles (Book 2): The Undead Horde Page 14