Zombie Crusade (Book 4): Eastern Front

by J. W. Vohs

  “And the hunger may cause them to attack us even more desperately.”

  “Well,” Greenburg added, “Barnes is still going to have to allocate resources to food-gathering that could have helped with his push north. The kids did good.”

  “They did, but I told Luke to avoid unnecessary fighting. Dangerous little bastards, aren’t they?”

  The sun was just sliding below the horizon when the teenagers returned to the bridge, still wearing their stolen cowboy hats and coats to impress their elders. Soldiers not working on the defenses gathered around the triumphant scouts, helping the exhausted youngsters climb out of their saddles and offering enthusiastic congratulations for their achievement. After allowing the teens to bask in the adulation for several minutes, Jack finally stepped forward and led his weary warriors, and their new friend, into a large camper he was using as his headquarters on the Kentucky shore.

  After the young team had a few minutes to fill up on water and snacks, Jack got down to business. “Anything you need to add to the radio reports you sent back to me?”

  Maddy and Zach deferred to Luke, who shrugged and explained, “We had an uneventful ride back to the bridge after leaving Rineyville. Ran into a few packs as we came closer to the river, but nothing we couldn’t handle easily enough. No sign of Barnes or any of his men from there to here if that’s what you’re asking, so we seem clear to the west right now.”

  Jack pursed his lips for a moment as he seemed to be carefully considering his words. “You three did amazing work out there. Who’s your new sidekick?”

  Introductions were quickly made, and Jack asked Jared to stick around camp for a while so he could pick his brain about the attack in Tennessee. Jared readily agreed, and Jack sent him out to find a real meal with one of Chad’s men. Once the boy was gone, Jack asked for a complete briefing on the mission. As soon as he was satisfied with their report, he asked if there was anything they needed.

  Maddy glanced over at Luke, remembering how he was prepared to go off on his own when they’d first spotted the hunter pack. “Nothing really, maybe just a clarification . . .”

  “Of? ” Jack wondered.

  “Well, as I understand it, we all need to stick together.” She sounded uncomfortable as she continued. “So nobody goes off on his own, no matter what, right?”

  Jack thought he could see where this was going. “I would say, in general, that’s true. I would also say there may be circumstances where one person may need to make a tough decision.” He looked at Luke. “How would you answer that?”

  “Well,” Luke began, “I think we also need to follow a chain of command . . .”

  Zach jumped in, “I’m not sure that you’re answering the question.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended on the group for a moment before Jack continued. “Luke was supposed to call all the shots out there. I thought you both understood that.” He paused for a beat. “And nobody was supposed to go rogue. I thought Luke understood that.”

  The three teens shifted uncomfortably before Luke finally spoke. “We did understand, I mean, we do understand. Any conflicts we had got worked out, and I just need to learn how to be a better leader.”

  Maddy was quick to disagree. “No way, you were great—look what we accomplished! I am sorry I said anything. We really didn’t have any conflicts. Nobody went off on his own, and Zach and I will be more respectful of the chain-of-command in the future.”

  Jack explained, “A military mission is no time for democracy. As far as I know, every military force since the dawn of civilization has had a chain of command. The American Founding Fathers gave the president extraordinary powers during times of war, for good reason. Soldiers debating actions during combat die. You can argue all you want once the mission is complete, but not during the operation.” Jack reached over and rested his hand on Maddy’s shoulder, “I’ve tried to make it clear to you since our first battle together at the fire station that you are destined to be a leader. When it’s your job to lead, you’ll make your decisions firmly and confidently. I suspect that’s just what Luke did out there.”

  He looked over at Zach, “Same goes for you. Sargent Greenburg and I were just talking about how being a soldier in today’s world is more about experience with the infected than any sort of pre-outbreak military training. You all get on-the-job training, and I think you’re all doing just fine. Now, Zach, Maddy, you two go make sure Jared gets squared away with a place to sleep and any supplies he might need. In fact, tell Chad to prepare a canoe and a week’s worth of food for the kid.”

  The tired young soldiers tried to sound official, “Yes, sir,” they replied as they shuffled out of the trailer.

  After the door closed, Jack turned his full attention to Luke. “You were sent out to gather information about Barnes’ progress, not to engage the enemy.”

  Luke started to object, but Jack raised his hand before continuing. “Once you were trapped in that house in Rineyville, it sounds like your hand was forced, but the fact that you didn’t tell me you were taking dynamite along indicates that you were thinking about something crazy from the moment I gave you the mission.”

  Luke knew he couldn’t deny keeping important information from Jack about his intentions when he found the enemy. “I’m not being a smart-ass, but in the future you might want to send others out to just gather information. Every time I even think about the infected and General Barnes, I want to hurt them. I’ll charge into any fight you order me into, but I’m not sure I’m the person to just observe those bastards.”

  Jack’s eyes hardened, “Tell me, Luke, what’s your goal in life?”

  “To kill every infected in the world, and the people who made them that way.”

  “H’mm,” Jack responded, “And how many infected are in the world these days?”

  Luke shrugged, already seeing where this was leading. “I don’t know, at least hundreds of millions.”

  “How many people are still alive?”

  “A lot less than that,” Luke admitted.

  Jack nodded. “All right, you want to kill infected with your own hands, head on out there and get to it. I want to kill ‘em too; mind if I come along?”

  “The people need you here,” Luke almost whispered as he stared at the floor. “You’re leading this entire war.”

  “So are you suggesting that I can kill more of the infected by wielding an army than with my halberd?”

  Luke didn’t even respond to what he knew was a rhetorical question.

  “Look at me, son,” Jack commanded. “You’re not the easiest person to understand; you’re young, but you don’t act your age, at least not most of the time. I’ll admit that you’re probably the most talented soldier I have when it comes to killing the infected, but there’s something else about you . . .” He cocked his head to one side and seemed to study Luke for a moment while the silent young man shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “I’ve heard the whispers around our settlement,” Jack finally continued. “People look for answers, for comfort, in times of crisis. They want hope.” He leaned forward, and Luke held his gaze. “A lot of our people think you’re touched by God or something. I’m not saying I believe all that, but anyone can see that you have abilities that can’t be easily explained away.”

  Luke started to speak, but Jack held up his hand. “Just listen. I’m not the kind of man to try to tame a wolf, especially the most deadly wolf in the world. If you want to run wild out there, by all means, go do your thing.”

  Luke looked downright miserable. “May I speak now, sir?” Jack nodded and Luke continued, “How do you do it? You have the same attitude as I do about these monsters. How do you keep from going crazy just keeping everything organized instead of fighting?”

  “I think if you charted my daily activities since the outbreak began you’d find that I’ve been involved in more combat than anyone you know, yourself included.”

  “Yeah,” Luke agreed, “I know, but . . .”

  �
��But nothing,” Jack retorted. “I will always lead my soldiers into battle, except for the times when I can’t be there. Then Carter will lead, or John, or Tina, or even you. Four months ago I was trying to save as many people as possible in Noble County, Indiana. Now I’m trying to stop Barnes from destroying the survivors in the entire Midwest. If we live through this fight, the next step will be North America. After that, the world. Even in Noble County I couldn’t be everywhere people were fighting under my leadership, so what do you think it’s like now?”

  “I think you have to trust other people,” Luke replied, “and put up with the occasional teenager who lets his ego get the best of him.”

  Jack smiled. “You know, I have a knack for killing the infected too. Even during the battle against them in Afghanistan, I slaughtered them. Carter followed my example that night, and we both lived through a fight that killed almost every other soldier involved. Before you arrived at The Castle, our leaders were on my case all the time about going into so many lopsided fights without backup.

  “At first I would agree with them, and promise not to do it again, but deep down I thought they were worrying too much and I wasn’t going to stop. Then I saw people armed and equipped and trained by me start to die as the fights evolved into battles, and I realized that any of us could be killed if we got cut off from our group.”

  A lump rose in Luke’s throat as he thought of Jerry, and Gracie’s father, and Christy’s dad. He wasn’t about to argue against Jack’s logic.

  Jack continued, “So I learned to plan better, and work together with my fighters. Not because I was afraid of dying, but because I was terrified of not being around to help the people I cared about live through the flipping apocalypse. Even then I half expected John or somebody else to start giving orders, but everybody looked to me to lead them. There we were facing the destruction of the human race, and the only group of survivors I was aware of was expecting me to lead a resistance movement against an army of monsters.”

  “That makes sense to me,” Luke interjected. “I don’t think anyone else could have come close to what you’ve accomplished—part of that is because you were prepared and knew how to fight, but mostly I think it’s because you’re truly a great leader. You can’t escape the simple truth that people will always depend on you and follow you with all their hearts.”

  Jack shook his head as he remembered the early days of the war. “I don’t know what to tell you, Luke. People who get to know you, and especially those who see you fight, instinctively want to follow you.” He emphasized the last word for effect. “You can lead them, or you can be a soldier who can’t stop himself from killing every infected he sees, but you can’t do both. You’re a smart kid; I suggest that you think about the best ways to achieve your most important goals. I won’t force you into anything, but if I’m going to trust you with the lives of people under my leadership, you’ll have to be willing to change your approach to destroying the enemy.”

  Luke was staring at the floor again, but he nodded his understanding. “I promise, Jack, I am now, and always will be, on your team. I never want to let you down again.”

  “All right,” Jack relented, “go clean up and get some sleep . . . I think you’ll have the chance to fight soon enough.”

  Just after full dark, shouts rang out through the camp as the guards on the bridge watched a raft floating toward them from the east. Jack was at their sides in less than a minute, and stood watching the craft approach with increasing apprehension when he realized it looked just like the boat his eastern patrol had left in the night before. As the raft grew closer he could finally make out two bodies huddled beneath the gunwales, apparently unable to do anything more than allow the current to carry them along. Jack shouted down to the pier and ordered the shore guards to take one of the powered watercraft they’d scavenged out to help.

  Jack could hear the soldiers arguing with one of the men in the raft shortly after they reached it, and a moment later they pulled a lethargic soldier into their boat before attaching a tow line to the other rubber craft. By now most of the troops stationed at the bridge were congregating down near the shoreline, eager to see what all of the commotion was about. Jack joined Chad Greenburg, who was pushing his way through the gathering crowd and bellowing for people to make way. Both commanders were anxious over what they had already seen of the patrol, and now they wanted to hear a report from the returning scouts.

  As soon as the boat reached the pier, gentle hands were lifting out an obviously injured soldier who’d been slumped listlessly against bottom of the craft. The wounded man’s face was covered with mud and gore, but one of the guards sent to retrieve the raft called out, “It’s Shafer!” before turning his attention to the man’s motionless partner.

  Once Shafer was on the bank, somebody tossed a blanket around his shoulders, but the clearly spent soldier made no move to pull it closer as he sat shivering with his back against a sycamore tree. He clearly had some broken bones, but no bite wounds. The injured soldier kept mumbling about Jenkins, and Chad turned to the troops who’d towed the patrol boat to shore and asked them about the man still lying in the raft.

  “Bitten,” one of them whispered.

  Chad’s face sagged for a moment before he set his jaw and cooly asked, “Dead?”

  The soldier who’d just spoken shook his head, “Not sure. He’s gotta be close though; there’s a lot of blood pooled in the bottom of the boat, and he isn’t moving.”

  “Damn-it! Bring him up here, and keep your guns on him.”

  The raft was quickly pulled to shore, where Chad and Jack looked the doomed man over to see what condition he was in.

  “He’s dead,” somebody observed from the crowd gathered about.

  Nobody said anything for a long moment, months of experience leaving the jaded fighters as wary of their bitten comrade as they would have been if an angry cobra was lying in the boat. Suddenly, the soldier formerly known as Jenkins turned his head to stare at those around him. He fixed his dilated, coal-black eyes on Jack, and moaned an odd, high-pitched wail as he began struggling to rise from the blood-slickened, rubber surface beneath him.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” Chad nearly shouted as he reached for his handgun.

  Jack’s pistol was already in hand, his instincts warning of the danger as soon as he gazed upon the infected soldier. The first .22 round through the forehead dropped the poor creature, and two more fired into the back of the skull made sure it stayed down.

  The fighters at the scene had all witnessed this sort of situation before, but the absolute silence and bowed heads following the shooting proved that they still hated it. Chad finally broke the spell, “Wrap him up and find a place to bury him. I wanna say a few words before you fill the grave.”

  There was no shortage of volunteers to help with providing for Jenkins’ final resting place, and as the crowd slowly cleared, Jack and Chad turned their attention back to the slightly recovered Shafer. The medics had cleaned him up a bit and figured out that he was suffering from shock and two broken wrists. After feeding him a candy bar and two strong painkillers they moved aside so the two leaders could question him.

  “Go easy,” one of the medics warned.

  Chad nodded as he took a knee next to the veteran soldier who’d been with him since the early days of the outbreak. He tenderly pushed a lock of grimy hair back from Shafer’s face and gently asked, “Can you tell us what happened, son, or you need some more time?”

  Shafer gulped and slightly shook his head before croaking, “No time, Sarge, the hunters are close.”

  Chad gave Jack a sharp look just as his radio crackled to life, “Greenburg here,” he bellowed into the walkie-talkie.

  The message was heard by everyone within six feet of Chad. A shaky voice reported, “The outposts were overrun about five minutes ago. Two guards in the south are holed up in a crawl-space, and the north-team is heading our way on the river. We spotted the east team coming in by raft.”

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p; Jack looked at his watch and muttered, “Hell, they’re only three miles out. We need anyone who can safely get back here to come in immediately.” He turned to Chad, “Tell them to sound the alert.”

  Chad relayed the order, and seconds later an air-horn shrieked over the camp, warning everyone who wasn’t already up and about to get to the bridge immediately. He then turned his attention to his injured soldier. “We’re ready for ‘em, kid; now why don’t you start from the beginning. We need to know what we’re up against.”

  With the painkillers obviously taking effect, Shafer began to calmly recount what had happened to the patrol. “Our first stop was near West Point just after dawn. We slipped through a small woods on the outskirts of town with no problems, and we decided to climb up on the roof of an elementary school to get a better view of the area. No sooner’n we got up there a Blackhawk flew by a few miles to the south; that’s when we saw the hunters movin’ along Highway 31, thousands and thousands of ‘em. Hell, an ocean of ‘em. A lot more’n we saw in Buffalo, I’ll promise you that.

  “The leading edge of ‘em was right under the chopper, and more birds were flyin’ circles to the east. ‘Bout that time we realized there were thousands more of ‘em comin’ through the town right toward us. They were everywhere. There was a big hill just south of the highway, and the hunters seemed to fill every square inch of ground between that hill and the river. I’m pretty sure the horde was flowing to the south of that hill, too, but of course we couldn’t see ‘em over there.

  “Right about then Jenkins said we needed to get the hell outta there, but those bastards saw us while we were climbin’ down from the roof. He shouted for us to head into the nearest buildin’, and once we were in there he explained that we were gonna have to fight our way back to the river before that part of town was completely overrun. He said the key to street fightin’ was to stay outta the streets.”