by Dulaney, C.
Praise for Roads Less Traveled
“A mix of Joss Whedon-style banter and Walking Dead-style struggles.”
—HorrorNews.net on Roads Less Traveled: The Plan
“If I was going to pick someone to make it through the end of the world with, it’d be Kassidy ‘Kasey’ Stratford. If I was going to pick someone to write about the end of the world, it’d be C. Dulaney.”
—Peter Clines, Author of the Ex-Heroes series
on Roads Less Traveled: Murphy’s Law
“C. Dulaney continues to invent prose that sucks a reader in and makes you want more. If you want your dose of zombies, survivors, action, and twists and turns along the way, you’ve got to pick up this series.”
—Clyde Wolfe, Author of Guardians: Desolate Souls
on Roads Less Traveled: Shades of Gray
“Dulaney combines zombies and science, and takes the mix to a new level, which just blows my mind.”
—Ursula K. Raphael, AstraDaemon’s Lair
on Roads Less Traveled: Shades of Gray
“Phoenix is the kind of psychological thriller you don’t expect in a tale of the zombie apocalypse; Dulaney’s got parallel paths to hell, and they’re all great rides.”
—Thom Brannan, author of Sad Wings of Destiny
on Roads Less Traveled: Phoenix
ROADS LESS TRAVELED
END OF THE ROAD
C. Dulaney
Copyright © 2020 C. Dulaney
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover image by Junnifer Baya.
Editing by Thom Brannan.
Book layout and cover design by David Snell.
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Praise for Roads Less Traveled
Title Page
Copyright
Maps
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
About the Author
Maps
Chapter One
West Virginia
September, 22 months later…
“I hate turnips.”
Jake tossed the vegetable from one hand to the other. He and Mia kicked up dust as they followed Kasey and her dog, Gus, down Gibson’s main street. The summer had been hard and dry; everything was either cracked, dusty, or cracked and dusty.
“You’ve never even tried them. How do you know you don’t like them?” Mia asked.
“Smell the damn thing.” He stuck the turnip under her nose. “Smells like dirt.”
Mia knocked his hand away. “Everything smells like dirt.”
“Well, dirt smells like dirt, and you don’t see me eatin’ that.”
“Not yet.”
Jake shoved Mia and they laughed, tossing the turnip back and forth between them. Gus turned his floppy-eared head once to look back at them, then returned his attention to what was in front of him. Without breaking stride, Kasey bent and scratched his head, then pulled a length of bicycle tire from her back pocket and threw it down the street. Gus took off after it like a shot. Kasey let the two behind her keep up the horseplay. It was the only thing that seemed to keep the peace most days.
There weren’t as many people milling about as there usually were; the folks off guard duty were gathered around the “traveling salesman” back up the street from where Kasey had come. His big wagon was parked on the corner of Main and Prescott, and the man peddled potatoes, turnips, and radishes this time. He’d soften up the crowd by handing out samples, then he’d start trading.
Two men stepped out onto the sidewalk from the store where Kasey was headed. They looked around and, when their eyes caught sight of the trio headed their way, they threw up their hands and smiled. Kasey met them halfway.
“Well, well, well,” the tallest of the two men said, “if it ain’t old Bullseye.” He grinned and stuck his hand out.
“Easy, now. Don’t push your luck with this one,” the other man said.
“Fuck you both,” Kasey replied, and shook the offered hand. She’d known them for some time, and it was all good-natured ribbing. Unfortunately, it was a little too close to the truth. “What the hell are you two doing in town?”
The tallest one, Pete, said, “Bill sent us in to do a little trading.” He jerked his chin toward the peddler. “That’un doesn’t have much worth anything this time, so we went to see Marlo.”
Marlo was the shop owner, and well known for being a cantankerous tightass.
Kasey snorted. “Then I’d say Bill’s gonna be pissed when you get back home empty handed.”
Tucked back in a hollow fifteen miles west of Gibson was Bill’s Fork. It hadn’t existed Before. Following the destruction of the Control Center, where supposed-government-scientists had been experimenting on immune people and transforming them into terminator-like zombie-killers, one family had come down off their hill and built a cabin at the head of a creek. The patriarch of that family, Bill, eventually made contact with Kasey, and so Bill’s Fork was created. She relocated a dozen or so people there, Pete being one of the first, and Bill’s family took them in. They taught the folks how to build and how to hunt. Over time, the people of the Fork began trading in Gibson, mostly in fur and meat. Each of the area communities specialized in something, helping the whole, and the Fork were hunters. Much better hunters than gardeners or farmers, to be sure.
Pete shrugged, still grinning. “We’ll just make sure we bag a couple deer before we get back to the Fork. That’ll keep the old man happy.” Pete and his companion moved off toward their horses. “Come around sometime,” Pete yelled over his shoulder. “I still owe you for that ass beatin’ you gave me last time we played poker!”
Kasey blew him a kiss, and used her middle finger for it. Both men laughed, mounted up, and rode off.
That’s how it was now. People traded for what they needed. Kasey and her group traded their skills, for the most part. Others traded things they’d scavenged or made, food they’d grown, and on rare occasion, canned food from Before.
Kasey was on her way to see a man who wanted their skills.
Gus waited next to the door of the shop with that strip of rubber hanging from his mouth. Kasey stomped up the steps, knocked the dust from her boots, and snatched the “toy” from her dog. She stuck it back in her pocket and pointed, letting him know to stay put until she let him know otherwise. She glanced over her shoulder at her companions. The two sobered, Jake shoving the turnip into his pants pocket.
The door swung inward and set off a racket from the bell hanging from the top of the doorframe. Kasey and Jake filed inside, and Mia, being the tallest of the three, reached up and silenced the ringing.
“Kasey.” Marlo, the owner of the shop, leaned on his side of the counter and watched the pair behind her with amusement.
“Marlo,” Kasey answered. Mia and Jake took up position next to the window, keeping an eye on the street.
“You know that guard d
og you leave outside’ll deter customers ‘til we conclude our business, right?”
Kasey snorted. “Yeah, sure he will.”
“You got what I asked for?”
She mimicked his posture and leaned in on her side of the counter. “You got what I asked for?”
A grin broke Marlo’s lined face. “Ladies first.”
Kasey sighed but snapped her fingers. Jake turned and Mia unzipped one of the smaller pockets along the side of his backpack. She pulled out a small paper bag and tossed it across the room to Kasey. Looking Marlo in the eye, she unrolled the crinkled top and pulled out a Ziploc baggie. Its contents were wet and dark red, chunky with sprouts of black hair. She laid it on the counter and slid it halfway across. Marlo’s eyes widened. He reached out a hand and Kasey pulled the baggie back.
“Your turn,” she said.
The shopkeeper hesitated a moment, then grimaced and trudged off to the backroom. He came back with a box which was quite heavy, judging by the way he was hunched over. Instead of wrestling it up onto the counter, he kicked through the swinging half-door at the end of the counter and set it on the floor. He kneeled down and held back the top flap. Kasey leaned over, studied the contents of the box, and nodded. Marlo went back around to his side of the counter and held out his hand.
“Was she there when… you know, when you found him?”
Kasey slapped the baggie into his open palm. “Thought you didn’t want to know.”
Marlo turned the bag over in his hands and muttered, “Was she?”
“Yeah.”
Marlo’s head snapped up. “Then she saw you?” he asked.
“Yep.”
Marlo frowned. “I think I best stop asking questions.”
“I think you best.”
“Time to go,” Mia announced from the window.
Kasey motioned to Jake and together they lifted the box until he could balance it on his shoulder, steadied by one hand. She threw a two-fingered salute to Marlo and headed out the door.
Outside, she snapped her fingers and Gus fell in beside her. Mia took the lead and Jake stayed between her and Kasey. Both women had their gun hands resting exactly where they needed to be. They passed a small group of people headed to the shop. From the looks of it, they were going to try trading the armfuls of vegetables they’d gotten from the salesman for something better from Marlo. None of them made eye contact with the trio; most people in the area knew what kind of work Kasey and her people did now.
Halfway up the street, the horses came into view. The peddler’s wagon was parked in the same place as before, and the two large draft horses seemed to be sleeping. The man was across the street, feeding something to Kasey’s horse. The closer they got, the more it looked like potatoes.
“Do you think he’ll go lookin’ for his wife?” Jake finally asked. Kasey had been waiting for it, and was surprised he’d made it this far without posing the question.
“Probably,” Mia answered for her.
“He knew the deal,” Kasey added, “or he’d never have agreed to the trade. You know how hard it is to come across gunpowder.”
Jake shrugged the box higher onto his shoulder and grunted.
“He wanted that fella taken care of, and he didn’t want witnesses,” Mia said over her shoulder. “Everybody got what they wanted.” She pointed to Jake’s horse. “Now shut up and strap that box behind your saddle.”
They’d made it to their horses and Kasey stepped up close to the peddler. He was a short, older man. His clothes were worn clear through in places but they were clean. He stroked the nose of Kasey’s horse and smiled.
“Afternoon,” she said. “Why are you lettin’ my horse eat your merchandise?”
The old man shrugged. “It’s nothing. Used to have one just like this.” His smile grew and he kissed the horse on the forehead. “Don’t suppose I could trade you for her?”
“Sorry,” Kasey said. She pushed her body between her horse and the old man, took up the reins, and shoved a foot in the stirrup. “Not for sale, I’m afraid.” She swung up into the saddle and leaned forward against the horn to study the peddler. “But I tell ya what. I’ll trade you a can of gun powder for a bag of turnips.”
Jake mumbled, “Goddamnit,” and reached inside the box behind him.
✽✽✽
Kasey’s house on the mountain was actually three smaller cabins. After that business at the Control Center almost two years before, the National Guard had helped the group find supplies and material, but in the end, it just hadn’t been feasible to rebuild one giant house. Instead they settled for three cabins, a barn, storage shed, two outhouses, and a summer kitchen behind the central cabin. Some of their friends in the Guard had offered to stay on and assist, but Kasey had declined, reminding them that the soldiers were needed elsewhere and had more important things to worry about.
Things like making sure the other States had ended their involvement with their respective Control Centers. Unfortunately, after months and months of arguing, there still wasn’t a consensus among the States on the CC thing, but word had come down from the leaders that the terminators were not to be touched. Liaisons traveled around and spread word throughout the countryside. Terminators still ended up dead, but that only happened on occasion, and usually because a scavenger had come across one that had scared the shit out of him.
Kasey, Mia, and Jake were guilty of it.
Michael continued his job of maintaining contact with all the survivor settlements in the area, and from time to time a message would come in asking for help with “clearing an area.” That typically meant a large and unruly group of terminators had conglomerated around a town, killed the resident zombies, and were then tearing shit up out of boredom or hunger. The trio would be dispatched to said location and trade their gun hands for whatever that particular settlement of survivors had for “payment.”
And if they didn’t have anything to use as payment, well…
The days of giving crap away out of the goodness of their hearts were long gone.
Kasey and the others neared the top of the mountain. The sprawling homestead was just coming into view beyond the trees. Jake chewed on a strip of deer jerky and Mia worked on the turnip they’d played with earlier. Gus ran ahead, seeing home was close and knowing he wouldn’t be in trouble for taking off. The horses sensed the same and picked up the pace. Kasey led them to the barn, about a hundred yards to the left of the cabins, close to the tree line. Her dad, Caleb, stepped out onto the porch of the cabin he shared with Michael and smiled. He always worried when she went out on a job or a run. He didn’t need to worry anymore, or at least not as much, but as her dad it was part of the job description.
“Any trouble?” he called out.
“No more than usual,” Kasey said. She threw up her hand, dismounted, and opened the barn doors. Her dad waved back and went inside his cabin.
“Jake, unload the cargo and take it over to Dad. We’ll get them brushed down and turned out,” Kasey said. She led her horse to the rear of the barn, and Mia followed.
“Sure thing, Boss.” Jake slid off his horse, untied the box, and hefted it up onto his shoulder. “Better hurry up. I’m sure they about got supper ready.”
Mia walked back and took the reins from Jake. “Well, try not to eat it all.” She led his horse back to the others and went to work unsaddling. Jake kicked the barn door shut on his way out.
“Did you see those terminators in Matias?” Kasey asked, referring to the small town at the base of her mountain. She brushed her horse and watched Gus root around in the loose hay over in the corner. He had become a pretty good mouser.
Mia grunted and reached behind Kasey for another brush. “Yeah. Small group this time.”
“Yeah.”
Both women were quiet for a long time. Mia spoke up after two of the three horses were brushed down and she’d moved on to Jake’s horse.
“What the hell were they doing?”
Kasey leaned back against
a stall door and stared at the floor. “No idea. I’ve never seen that before.”
“Neither have I. And we’ve been out there a lot.”
Kasey sighed. “Yeah.”
“Were they asleep, you think?”
Kasey chewed her lip and thought about it. The group of terminators they’d seen gathered in front of the post office in Matias was on the ground, flat on their backs, eyes closed and bodies completely motionless. “We’ve never seen them sleep before, so I just assumed they didn’t.”
“Maybe they were dead?”
“We don’t even know if they die. They sure as hell don’t starve to death like we thought they would.”
Mia glanced back at Kasey. “Well, they’d have to die eventually, right? They’re still people.”
Kasey shrugged. “Are they, though?” She shoved off the stall door and went to the back of the barn, then threw open the door and stood to the side so the horses could file past and outside into the barn lot.
Mia put the brushes away and grabbed up the sack of turnips. Kasey whistled and Gus ran to her side, then the three walked out and headed to her dad’s cabin.
“Jake better have saved us something to eat,” Mia said, “or he’s eating nothing but turnips for the rest of the week.”
✽✽✽
Caleb and Michael’s cabin was the largest of the three. The front half of the house was divided into a kitchen and living room. Part of the living room was designated for the job which had naturally fallen to Michael; a large map was pinned up on the wall, above a desk that was strewn with papers, pens, envelopes, and an old CB radio. The corner opposite Michael’s desk was Caleb’s, where his ammunition reloading bench and equipment were set up. He’d taken that job over for Kasey once he’d joined the group, after the destruction of the CC.