by TW Brown
Kevin knew that tone. Catie was not somebody who could let certain things go. It was in her nature to protect the weak and stand up for those who might not be able to stand up for themselves.
“This isn’t our fight,” Kevin warned. “We have no idea how this got started or just how bad it might be.”
“But—” she protested, but it was his turn to put his finger on her lips.
“This is not our fight. And if we are going to find someplace to settle down and start our lives, I would just as soon it not have to start with some sort of terrible conflict.”
Catie smiled and nodded. She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly before turning to lead the way. There was an area up ahead a ways that looked calm enough for them to cross. This particular spot on the river was a bit rough and rapid. She took two steps and then stopped.
“You two can just hold it right there and put your hands in the air,” a familiar female voice ordered.
Kevin leaned just enough so he could see past Catie. Apparently the female rider had heard them (or heard of them from Clint and his people) and come to a spot where she had a clear view. She had her bow drawn and pointed at the two of them.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Kevin called back as he edged past Catie to put himself between her and the arrow pointed at them.
“Then maybe you can explain why you were sneakin’ away and making such a big point of not being seen or heard?”
“Are you really asking that question?” Kevin shot back. “We heard what you did to one of those people. Would you stick around after hearing that?”
The woman frowned and her face scrunched up in an unflattering grimace as she tried to decipher his question. Obviously that thought had not occurred or even come close to making its presence known in what Kevin had to assume was a brain operating at minimum capacity.
“If you ain’t one of them munies (when she said the word, it sounded more like ME-yoon-ees), then you got nothin’ to worry about,” the woman finally shot back with indignation spurred by the knowledge that this man speaking to her was making fun of her somehow.
She could not put a finger on exactly how, but she knew his sort. She really hoped he was one of those folks from Rock Ridge. She wanted this one all for herself. She would make him eat his snotty words.
“I am not going anywhere with you,” Catie blurted just as Kevin opened his mouth to respond. “My husband and I have done nothing to deserve this, and all we are trying to do is find someplace peaceful where we can make a home for ourselves in time for the arrival of our baby.
“Yeah,” Kevin harrumphed. And then he spun to face Catie. “Wait…what!”
“Surprise!” Catie said weakly, throwing her hands up and doing her best to smile.
This was not how she had wanted to do this. She’d almost told him last night, but she had chickened out at the last moment and decided that she wanted to just bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She had no doubts that Kevin loved her, or that he would be excited by the announcement. However, she also knew that he might overreact. It was for that reason alone—or at least that was what she had convinced herself of—that she had decided to wait until they found the place that he liked and agreed would be a good choice for them in their quest to settle down and start anew.
“You don’t look like your fixin’ to have a baby,” the woman on the horse snorted. “Hell, skinny thing like you prob’ly can’t even carry to term. And them hips? I’d actually almost pay to be there when you tried to squeeze a young’un out from between ‘em.”
“I’ll be sure to send an invitation,” Catie shot back.
“Well now I am really startin’ to hope you is one of them damn munies. I want the pleasure of guttin’ you myself.”
“Let’s settle down a bit, Darlene,” a man’s voice called as he weaved through the trees and came up beside the woman holding Kevin and Catie at bow point.
“Caught these two tryin’ to sneak off without bein’ checked,” Darlene said proudly as if she’d just apprehended one of the world’s most dangerous fugitives.
“That man Clint said they had just encountered a couple and were inviting them back to his little village just before we arrived.” He turned his attention to Kevin and Catie. “He says you both claim to come from out west somewhere. Says that you all came to see if your mom and sister might have still been alive.” Kevin nodded as a lump formed in his throat at the reminder.
“So that woman lied…she ain’t pregnant and they ain’t just out here lookin’ for someplace to live!” Darlene barked.
“He says that your family had a cabin or some such up in the hills.” The man shot a cold stare at Darlene and she shut her mouth with an audible click of her teeth.
“Yep, used to come when I was little. Hated it,” Kevin admitted. “I was not one of those kids who wanted to go camping. Well…not unless it was someplace with hot showers and a dining hall.” Kevin let loose with a light chuckle, but the man just stared at him and the mirthful sound died on his lips.
“And I am so pregnant,” Catie said in a loud whisper that was meant to be heard.
“In any case, we are going to have to ask you folks to come with us,” the man said.
“Why?” Kevin ground his feet into the dirt just a bit to solidify his stance in front of Catie. He was preparing himself for a fight…or death.
“Because we will be certain that you are not just more of those bastards from Rock Ridge trying to escape so that you can hide and rebuild your numbers.” For the first time, the man spoke with an outward anger in his tone and an expression on his face that gushed with what could only be hatred.
“We aren’t part of whatever little war you have going on.” Kevin shook his head and made no effort to move. He did not like where this was going one tiny bit. “If you all want to kill each other, that is your business. We just want to be left alone and go about our business.”
“And as soon as we know you are not one of the Rock Ridge munies, you can do just exactly that,” the man retorted.
“And just how are you going to prove we are not one of…them?” Kevin braced himself for the answer. In his mind, it could be just about anything. He certainly did not expect the answer that came from the man’s mouth.
“Because we got the mayor back there tied to a horse.”
4
Education Abroad
As we moved down the slopes of the foothills, I tried really hard not to look like an idiot. My problem was that my eyes went everywhere. For one, I had no memory of things like cars and trucks. To see these things up close was actually sort of impressive.
“That was a fuel tanker,” Paula said as we passed under the shadow of the hulking obstacle.
I tried to imagine how such a thing moved. I mean, I saw the wheels, so I knew the basics of how, but it was just so freaking big! The largest moving vehicle of sorts that I had seen up to this point was one of our farm wagons. And if it was loaded, it took a dozen people to haul it from one spot to the other.
I was less impressed by the wildlife. I’d seen plenty of deer, wolves, coyotes, skunks, elk, raccoons…
There was a slight rustle as the entire team came to a halt. We were just about to round a corner. And that was another thing…the roads were so big. I could not figure out how they had managed to keep them open. Landslides had washed out most areas with rocks so big that there was simply no way I could imagine that they be moved. How these things were dealt with back before zombies is something that I can only try to envision. But then, I couldn’t figure out how they had built these highways in the first place.
Paula pointed and I saw why we had stopped. This was something new. I’d heard about it from the folks who had been out in the field, but to actually see it for myself…
“Slug tracks,” Paula whispered.
In every herd of zombies, you get the ones that are missing legs or entire lower halves of the body. Still, they are just like any other zombie with the exce
ption that they can’t walk. In larger herds (like ZH-Seven), you can sometimes get hundreds of the creepers following along. We call them “slug tracks.” They have been known to be strung out over a mile or more. Some of the larger slug tracks have actually grown into their own herd.
“Are these from ZH-Seven?” I whispered. Even though we were at least a hundred yards away and I was speaking in a voice that was little more than the act of moving my lips, it felt like I had practically screamed that question.
Paula shook her head and pulled out a map. She pointed to a spot that I had to assume was our location. Next, she showed me a green line that had been marked as the known path of ZH-Seven. This group was almost perpendicular to that one, as well as a few miles to the east.
After the signal was given, we backtracked and left the road to move through the woods for a ways. When we made camp for the evening, I listened as the scouts gave their reports. It was decided that this was a new herd. The numbers were placed at between three and four hundred creepers. Now I knew why we hadn’t just waded through. In a group that size, you would always get a few of the criers. Once those things started up, any zombie for a mile in every direction would be coming your way.
The next morning, we resumed our trek. By midday, we emerged back onto the trail that had once been a highway. It was overcast, and when the first patters of rain came, it was a welcome relief. However, I also knew by the monstrous clouds starting to form that we would be in for it soon if we did not find cover.
Summer time is a mixed blessing. You can get some beautiful days that scream for you to take a dip in the creek. But it can also mean thunder and lightning. Lightning only means one thing…
“Fire!” a voice called.
Our team stopped and everybody looked off in the direction being pointed at by the person who sounded the alarm. Sure enough, a single plume of smoke was rising in the distance to the south of our location.
Looking that way, the horizon was almost as dark as night. We were a day from Island City still and would be camping for one more night out in the woods. That fire was a good many miles away, but with the dry conditions we’d seen the past few weeks and the intensity of the coming storm, we would need to be vigilant. Wildfires burned hot and could move fast.
We ducked off the main trail again and made our way down a steep off-ramp to the ruins of a small roadside area that had cryptic signs that had become unreadable over the years of neglect. Just as we entered a long building that had tattered bench seats in booths along one wall and a single long counter with round stools set on one side, the rain came.
I have always loved weather. Since I was not assigned any watch for the first shift, I took a seat by one of the large openings where a window used to be and watched the downpour. It got so heavy at times that I could barely see a few feet past the overhang of the building. Then the hail started.
The few decrepit vehicles acted as metal drums. The noise got louder and louder as the size of the hailstones grew.
“We got walkers!”
At last! I saw a few heads turn my way. Oops…I think that I said that out loud. I pulled the oiled leather bag from my pack and removed my crossbow.
Okay, yes, I’ve killed zombies before. Everybody who has ever been outside the safety of our community’s walls has had to put one down at some time. So how is this different? The biggest thing is the fact that, if things get ugly back home, you run for the gate. Here? Unless you can run for two days straight…you gotta deal with the problem here and now.
One of the first things that you learn is to never get trapped inside a building. It does not matter if there are ten people with you; being trapped in a building that is surrounded by zombies is a death sentence.
I followed Paula and another guy, Jackson White, out the door and into the downpour that was shifting back from hail to just plain old rain. I sighted and fired, dropping the first one!
We moved as a team out into the ruined remains of the road that had run down the middle of this little stop beside the highway. I craned my neck to the right. Sure, we were out to take down these zombies, but there was a more important aspect of our job. We needed to make sure they were not the leading edge of a herd. It is more the exception than the rule to find just a couple of zombies. Sure…it happens, but not often.
“Crap!” Jackson growled.
Jackson White is a very big man. Sure, he might only be an inch or two under six feet tall, but he is broad shouldered and has arms and legs like tree trunks. I once saw him carry an elk through the gates on his shoulders and drop it at the distribution center. I then saw two guys struggle to carry it inside.
His skin is darker than anybody I have ever seen, and he has a funny accent. He was born in someplace called Jamaica, but he came to Oregon when he was just a baby. Sometimes he talks funny, and Melissa says that is his Jamaican accent. That usually only happens during the beer festival that takes place each fall when the brewers put out their new batches for folks to try. Most of the adults get kind of drunk. I don’t see the fun of doing something that makes you feel so bad the next day…sometimes two.
I looked in the direction that he was staring. Sure enough, a herd was coming this way. It was too hard to get an idea of how many since they were just coming around the corner, but they were packed in tight, so the odds were that there would be at least a few hundred.
“Fall back!” Paula hissed.
We retreated into the building. Everybody was already re-packed. A few people were stuffing the last bits of whatever they had been in the process of eating into their mouths.
“How bad?” somebody called.
“Shoulder-to-shoulder and coming right down Main Street,” Jackson said in his deep, rumbling voice that sounded like a giant bumblebee had learned to talk.
“Too many to risk staying,” Paula announced.
That made it final. You didn’t argue with Paula Yin…period. Everybody headed through an opening and past some of the biggest kitchen stoves I had ever seen. It looked like you could cook for ten or twenty people easy on the surface of those things, and there were three of them side-by-side!
We reached a doorway. Cynthia Bird was posted there as the watch. She is our medical person. The normal rule is that medics did not have to stand watch, but she had insisted, saying that, until we reached Island City, she was as useless as “tits on a boar.” That had made me laugh, especially coming out of her mouth.
Cynthia Bird is Xander Bird’s mom. She is one of the current council members and the only person to have been on the council for the past five years in a row. Most folks say she is Dr. Zahn’s voice and presence. Melissa says that she thinks Cynthia is a young version of the doc.
Oh…and it is Cynthia. Nobody calls her Cindy…ever. I have no idea why, but I do know that, when a new arrival comes to our community and they are introduced to the council; it is practically part of the “welcome” speech.
“Trouble?” Cynthia asked, bringing the long sword she wore on her hip part way from the scabbard.
“We got a herd coming,” Paula replied.
Our group headed out the back door and into the woods. This would be another thing that made this different from just doing a perimeter patrol back at Platypus Creek. A storm like this is cause for you to head back inside. Honestly, there is no reason to be out in this sort of weather.
I was having the time of my life!
***
“There it is,” Paula said as we broke through some thick brush.
We were on a ridge looking down at what was apparently Island City. I felt a tingle in my belly. It wasn’t just Island City, it was the rest of La Grande—the ruins of it—stretched out for what seemed like forever. If this was just a small town, I could only imagine and wonder what a big city looked like in person.
Melissa says that I am from Seattle. That is where Steve and I came from back in the beginning. She says that Seattle was a city of millions! I am sorry, but that is a number that I cannot eve
n fathom when thinking about living people.
The largest herd I have ever seen with my own two eyes supposedly numbered close to a half a million. It took almost two weeks for them to pass and flow around the perimeter of our community’s walls. I remember the smell, the sound. It was so loud at times that you could not hear a person unless they practically yelled in your ear—which they would not do since it would conceivably attract the attention of the herd and make them stop and gather outside our walls.
“Okay!” Paula scanned our group and seemed to be waiting for something. I did not even notice Cynthia Bird until she was actually standing right beside Paula. “Cynthia has a few things to pass on, and then we will head down.”
Cynthia stepped up onto a rock so that everybody could see her. “First, I want to apologize to all of you in advance…”
That was never a good way to start things. I noticed a few nervous expressions, but nobody was saying a word.
“…we could not say anything before we left because this was something that we did not want the citizens getting all worked up about until we had more concrete details,” Cynthia said in a very matter-of-fact tone that was giving away nothing.
It sounded to me like she might have practiced giving this speech a few times to be sure that she got it right. She was so calm that you almost wanted to relax, but if you were actually listening to the words, there was no way that you could not be a mix of curious and concerned.
“We are coming here to see what happened to the folks of Island City, and we believe that an outside force has been involved here in some aspect of what is likely the extermination of Island City’s population. However, we also believe that there may be another factor.
“There have been reports from a few of the communities that we regularly trade and exchange with in regards to a very potent and lethal sickness.”
There was a ripple of gasps and assorted profanity from almost everybody. I watched Paula. She was sort of my barometer. She was standing with her fists planted on her hips and a look of icy calm that showed no reaction at all to what had just been said.