by Dulaney, C.
Jonah stepped up beside him. “She’s not with ‘em.”
“Yeah. Didn’t figure she was.”
“I kinda hoped she would be.”
The pair watched the Guardsmen scurry around the vehicles. Jonah paid close attention to the covered truck, and the dead stink that came from it.
“Those’re gonna give me a permanent headache,” he said.
Michael turned to him. He paused to study his friend a moment before saying, “Every time? Seriously?”
Jonah grunted. “Most of the time. I get a pain right here.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “Not every time, though.”
“That kind of early warning would’ve come in handy, if we’d known about it,” Michael said.
“I don’t always get a warnin’, I said. Too unreliable to say anything. Besides…” Jonah shrugged.
Michael waved it off. “Would’ve caused too many questions. I get it.” Then he fell quiet and watched the soldiers pile back into their vehicles and drive down the street to the garage.
“We got all the side streets covered. Alleys, too,” Jonah quietly added. “Not sure how long it’ll hold, if it will at all. What he brought though, that’ll help.”
Michael nodded. “Good.”
After the first pack of terminators that had broken through had been taken care of by the group’s zombies, the besieged had spent the rest of the day driving metal fence posts into the ground between the houses and tying the dead to them with ropes. The side streets presented a problem, though. Since they couldn’t just stake and tie-off the dead like they had in the grass-covered alleys, they tied the zombies to each other, and secured the ends to whatever buildings were on either side. These dead barriers were held together with bubblegum and string, but they were short on time and knew they’d just have to adjust as problems arose.
Jonah thumped Michael on the back and turned down the street, toward the courthouse.
Michael rubbed his eyes and decided Jonah had the right idea: bunk down in the courthouse.
✽✽✽
The next morning, Michael stood over a large map spread out on the desk inside the old county clerk’s office. Rabbit circled the locations of survivors he’d been able to round up on his way to Gibson. He’d sent them back to Blueville. Anyone else that was still out there, they’d either made it to the prison or were dead.
“The folks down in this part of the state,” Rabbit said and pecked a finger on the southern “fat” section of the map, “they ran south to Kentucky. Don’t know if they made it yet. Communication is… slow right now.”
Michael glanced up. “You’ve been talking to the Kentucky Guard?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rabbit grinned. “Been talking to a lot of folks, actually. Guard and civilians.” His eyes flicked to Jonah, who kept watch by the window.
“Good,” Michael said. “Now, what about the zombies.”
“Well.” Rabbit stepped back from the map and crossed his arms. “There aren’t many dead left, but there are enough. What we brought with us, I’ve got some boys dividing them up. They’ll add to what you’ve already got strung up around town.”
“What happens when we run out?”
Rabbit tipped his head this way, then that. “That shouldn’t happen for a while, so long as we take care of the ones we have. But when it does happen, grenades and big fucking guns.”
Michael laughed.
“Besides, the terminators don’t even fight back,” Rabbit added. “The dead can tear them right down to the ground, and they don’t react. So as long we’re willing to do the upkeep, it’ll work.”
A deep line formed between Michael’s eyebrows. “Upkeep. That sounds gross.”
Rabbit made a face. “They’re rotting corpses. Of course it’s gross.”
“Assumin’ they haven’t learned new tricks,” Jonah said from the window. The other two turned their attention on him.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked.
Jonah gestured outside with a flick of his finger. “Saw one of ‘em, earlier, try to open a door. Must’ve been locked, ‘cause it didn’t open.” He shifted around until he caught Michael’s eye. “But it still tried to open that door.”
Rabbit and Michael shared a look, then Rabbit said, “That’s new.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “And not good. Our half-assed zombie chains might not hold up too damn long against them, soon as they figure a way around them.”
“Or over them,” Rabbit added.
Jonah turned back to the window. “Yep.”
Michael shook his head and leaned over the map.
We need walls, he thought. Wish we’d known those fucks at the CC were gonna do this before we killed so damn many of the dead.
“Michael,” Rabbit said. It was clear by the set of his jaw that he’d said it more than once.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to send out scouts,” Rabbit repeated. “See what’s coming and how many.”
Michael glanced down at the map for no other reason than to give himself time to think. “Whatever you think’s best. You know what you’re doing.”
“You sure, sir?”
Michael groaned. “Cut the ‘sir’ shit and get to it already.”
Rabbit snapped his heels together, saluted, and said, “Yes, sir.” Then he hurried out of the office.
Michael gritted his teeth and braced himself against the desk.
“Need anything else,” Jonah asked.
“Not right now.”
“I’m gonna go keep watch, then.”
Just then, Caleb burst through the door and almost nailed Jonah in the face with it.
Caleb fought to catch his breath, and said, “She’s back.”
Chapter Ten
A few days after leaving Fort Reuben, Brad, Mort, and Adams rode up to the large gate of the outer fence surrounding Blueville Correctional. Mort had been surprised that they’d not run across any gabs on the way to the prison. He was also surprised at the sight that greeted them when they arrived at the gate.
The space in between the outer and inner fences was filled with zombies.
The dead were tied together, arms restrained in a way that prevented them from reaching out and grabbing the guards who stood near the gates, and to stop them from climbing over the inner fence.
Mort had his pen in hand and rubbed it between index finger and thumb, but couldn’t get an emotional read on any of the guards because of the dead. His empathic eyesight filled with snow, so he quit trying and tucked his pen back into his shirt pocket. He glanced over at Brad, then to his other side at Adams, knowing their first thought was the same as his own: Well, we’re effectively neutered while we stay here.
The second thought he had was, Why the hell do they have a zombie moat to begin with?
There were four guards standing duty at the inner gate, all in civilian clothes. Mort didn’t know if they were Guardsmen or not, though they seemed to handle their weapons like they were. Two aimed automatic rifles in their directions, one talked quickly and quietly to someone on the radio, and the fourth smiled and bobbed his chin up in greeting.
“You fellas hold right there. We’ll get this clear and get you inside,” he said.
Mort threw up a hand and said, “Thank you.”
The maybe-soldier nodded and spoke into his radio. Suddenly the zombies between the gates were jerked to the sides by their ropes. The inner gate swung outward as the dead were pulled away in each direction. Then the outer gate slid to the side on tracks. The man who spoke before waved his hand, beckoning them inside.
Mort kicked his horse into motion and led the other two through the gates. The zombies on either end growled and snapped their teeth, wiggled and pulled against their bindings. As soon as they were inside, metal ground against metal and banged against itself as the outer and inner gates closed.
The man met Mort next to his horse after he dismounted. He looked the older man up and down, then studied Brad and Adams, still i
n the saddle. His mouth formed a thin line and he shrugged.
“Welcome to Blueville Correctional.”
✽✽✽
Two men in uniforms had taken their horses to the stables located on the right side of the complex and told them they’d be ready to go whenever they decided to leave. It was already after dark, so they didn’t get much of an introduction or tour. Besides, it seemed like everyone who called the prison home was quite busy with other things. Some people wore uniforms, but most didn’t. There were a few kids thrown into the mix, but the vast majority were all men and women between the ages of twenty-five and forty, and they had their hands full tending to the wounded. The center courtyard of the prison had been turned into an infirmary. Cots and blankets lined the entire area, so many packed together in rows that only a little grass could be seen in between.
Mort, Brad, and Adams just stood there amidst the chaos, the place loud with motion and suffering. Wherever these people had come from, they’d survived an attack, too.
“You,” a man called from behind.
Brad spun around first. A short guy that reminded him of Popeye without the funny hat or pipe strode toward them.
“You hurt?” the man asked.
“No,” Adams answered. He looked at Brad and mouthed the word sorry.
Brad gestured to his friends. “We just got here. From Reuben.”
The man nodded and came to a stop in front of them. “Name’s Torrez. So it’s happening across the river, too?”
“Yes,” Mort and Adams said in unison. Mort eyeballed Adams, who covered his mouth and shook his head, then went on to say, “We’ve been living at old Fort Reuben. They hit us a few nights ago. We barely escaped.”
Torrez narrowed his eyes and looked them over. “Just you three?”
Mort swallowed and Adams said, “Yeah.”
Torrez looked past them to all the injured lying beyond. “These folks are the only ones who’ve made it in so far. Everything’s being overrun.”
“Wait,” Brad said. He stepped closer to Torrez. “How long have…” he glanced at Mort, “the terminators been attacking?”
Torrez pulled the ball cap from his head and rubbed his scalp. “Maybe a week? It’s hard to say, communication being what it is. They’re rolling out of the CC. Soon as we started getting the calls, we headed out.” His shoulders dropped. “Rounded up as many people as we could. Found out by accident that the damn terminators don’t kill the dead anymore, act like they can’t even see ‘em. So, we hit every dead zone and rounded up as many of them as we could, too. Set a zombie perimeter around the prison here. Then Rabbit took off with some men and headed downstate. Said he was gonna blow the CC to hell and back.”
Brad and Mort looked at each other. “Rabbit?” Mort asked.
Torrez stared at nothing for a long time, then blinked. “Corporal Adder.”
Adams spoke up, “Are you still in contact with anyone? Any of the settlements?” He flinched, caught Brad’s eye, and shook his head, answering his own question.
“At first, some,” Torrez said. “But I think we’re all that’s left. Rabbit made it as far as Gibson. He just checked in from there. Said he was going to help out some old friends of his first, then move on. Heard from Pennsylvania and Kentucky. Just as bad there.”
“Gibson,” Brad repeated.
“Yeah.” Torrez put his ball cap back on and straightened. “Lot of people live there. They’re fortifying the town instead of running.”
“What about the Guard in Ohio? Have you heard from them?” Mort asked.
Adams opened his mouth to answer, but Torrez turned his head and spit. “Oh yeah,” he said. “We heard from ‘em. They told us to stand down.”
Brad felt like a bucket of ice had just been dumped over his head.
Torrez turned and yelled over to another man that had his arms full with boxes stacked on top of one another. “Put these guys in a room. Make sure they get some grub.” To Mort, he added, “You can stay as long as you like. I can’t guarantee anything anymore, but for as long as we’re standing, you can stay.”
The man with the boxes made it over to them. “This way, fellas.”
“Thank you,” Mort said to Torrez.
“You’re welcome, for what it’s worth.” Torrez turned and headed for the wall.
“I’ll have food sent to your room,” the man guiding them said. “You’ll have to share. A room that is.”
“That’s fine, young man,” Mort said from beside him. “We’ve been sharing a room for two years now.”
Brad, walking behind with Adams, dropped his voice to a low murmur. “I’ve seen this place before.”
Adams looked over from the corner of his eye.
“Dreamed it,” Brad continued. “A long time ago. Jonah was here, and Kasey.”
“Then they probably know that Rabbit guy,” Adams whispered back.
“Do they know that Rabbit guy?”
“Yeah.”
Brad nodded. “Those are the friends Torrez mentioned, then. Gibson isn’t far from her house.”
“Yeah,” Adams said. “If the gabs ignore us, then they’ll ignore Jonah. If he’s still with them, he might be able to protect them somehow.”
“Can we do that?” Brad asked quietly. “Shield people from the gabs?”
“Yes,” Adams answered. He squinted a bit.
“How’s your mojo working with those zombies outside being so close?”
Adams shrugged. “Just fine. It pinches a little when the answers come, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Brad looked behind them, then back at Adams. He wanted to ask about Kasey but bit his tongue. “Let’s just be careful when we’re around the dead, anyways. I don’t want you to have a fucking aneurism.”
“I second that,” Adams said.
The man led them up the steps of the administration building, through the door, and down the hallway of the first floor. At the last door on the right, he stopped and set down the boxes he’d been carrying. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, slid one into the deadbolt, and pushed the door open.
“This is you. I know it ain’t much, but there’s pillows and blankets in there. Some water. I’ll send over something to eat. You need anything, just go outside and look for someone.” He shrugged. “We’re not really organized right now.”
Mort patted the man on the shoulder. “It’s quiet and safe, that’s more than we can ask for. Thanks again, buddy.” He waited until the man picked up his boxes and started back down the hall, then motioned for Brad and Adams to go inside. He shut the door behind them and flipped the lock. “Brad, can you pick up anything?”
Brad stopped in the center of the room and blinked his eyes a few times. His radar screen jumped back and forth, and what dots that showed darted across it like glitches or bugs.
“No, the dead are messing it up. Same shit as before,” he said.
Mort pulled his pen from his pocket and rubbed it. He let his eyes unfocus and thought about the front gate of the complex wall. He remembered seeing guards up top, patrolling. He tried to focus on them. A loud buzzing filled his head and snow filled his eyesight. He dropped his hand to his side and closed his eyes.
“Nothing. We’re not far enough away from them, or there are too many,” he said.
They both looked at Adams.
Brad said, “You don’t have to risk it.”
“I’ll be fine,” Adams said.
“Is Kasey with Jonah?”
A very small twinge about the center of his forehead was all Adams felt. “Yeah.”
“How’d that feel?” Brad asked.
“Not bad. I think you guys can use me, so long as we’re not right up against the damn zombies.”
Mort laughed. “If we’re right up against them, we’ve got more problems than trying to use your magic eight-ball.”
Adams’ mouth dropped into a lopsided grin and one shoulder shrugged.
“Alright,” Brad said. He put his h
ands on his hips and looked down at the floor.
“What are you thinking, boy?” Mort asked.
Brad looked up. “Adams said since the gabs ignore us, we can shield people. So, the way I see it, we’ve got two options right now. We stay here and help these people as much as we can, or we head south.” He glanced at Adams. “We figured out Kasey and Jonah are the buddies that Torrez was talking about. She lives pretty close to Gibson, and Adams said she’s with Jonah.” He shrugged and hesitated a moment. “We can head down there, give them a hand.”
Mort’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Right.” He turned to Adams. “Is Kasey in Gibson?”
“Yes,” Adams said.
Brad blew out a breath. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there, but we’ll use a map. Adams can help narrow it down if we get off-route.”
“So is that what we’re doing?” Adams asked. “Yes. Never mind.”
Brad chewed his lip and watched the reluctance play out over Mort’s face. After a moment, he said, “She might need our help now more than these people do.”
Mort swore under his breath. “Yeah. Alright, boy. Maybe we can talk her and Jonah into coming back here, along with whoever else they have with them.”
Brad walked over to the couch and grabbed one of the blankets that lay folded there. He shook it out and dumped it onto the floor. “Better get some rest then. We’ll see about getting resupplied in the morning.”
✽✽✽
In Gibson, Jake helped Pete lift a makeshift stretcher out of the backseat of the Suburban. Gus followed, jumping to the pavement and bouncing up and down around their feet. Caleb grabbed Kasey’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Michael leaned in, looked her over once, and said over his shoulder, “Rabbit.”
Rabbit had just made it to the base of the steps earlier when the SUV had come to a screeching halt out front. “On it,” he said, then grabbed his radio and continued on toward the garage.
Jonah stood back a bit from the others crowded around the stretcher. His face was slack, and he breathed hard through his nose. After the others moved up onto the sidewalk, he slipped around them and opened the backend of the Suburban, anything to busy himself so he didn’t lose his shit in public.