100 A.Z. (Book 3): The Mountain

by Nelson, Patrick T.

  “I have other ways of getting it out of you.”

  “Come now. Let’s not be savages. Consider it a final favor to a man who’s losing his mind.”

  Moth shrugged his shoulders. There really was no reason to withhold Sal’s wish. If he put enough guards out there Sal and his people weren’t going anywhere.

  “Fine.”

  That night Sal’s team slept out in the tents. Ellie wondered that had been all about. Really, though, she just added it to the list of numerous things she didn’t understand about Sal lately. She was slipping into sleep peacefully, enjoying a half-lucid dream, when Sal’s voice rudely interrupted.

  “Hey, girl!” he whispered loudly.

  She rolled her eyes grumpily. “Y-y-yes, boy?”

  “Heh, heh. That’s funny, ‘cause I called you girl.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Hey, be ready tomorrow,” he said in a hushed voice. “We’re going to have a lot of work to do, okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lots of stuff to do, look alive. Good night!”

  Ellie listened to his footsteps walking away.

  The next morning Ellie woke with a start. She dressed quickly and sped out of her tent, expecting some sort of meeting or something with Moth. Nothing was going on, though. Sal was rinsing his mouth out with some water and spat it out on the ground. One of the guards chastised him for wasting water like that, but Sal shooed him off.

  “S-S-Sal?”

  “Morning, El. I’ve got breakfast ready. Hungry?”

  “Well, yeah…”

  They ate breakfast in Chambers’ tent with him. He wore a dark look on his face. Ellie wondered what that was about, but wasn’t going to ask. A man whose aspirations flew as high as Chambers’ was years overdue for a reality check.

  “How could you just tell them all that?! All of it true, too!” Chambers hissed, breaking the silence.

  “It doesn’t matter. It won’t change a thing. Not if I’m right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “You’ll see. Or maybe not. Depends if I’m right or not,” Sal stuffed a mouthful of dried fruit into his mouth. “It was a mistake coming here.”

  “W-w-what did you think was going to happen when you told them everything you did?”

  “Well, I didn’t realize it was a mistake to come here until we were already here, so I called an audible.”

  “What’s an audible?” Chambers asked.

  “It means I changed the plan at the last second. Not sure where the word comes from, though. Interesting how we have these words from the past but we have no idea…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. A chest-rumbling, ear-splitting scream passed overhead. Sal jumped from his seat and rushed out of the tent. The scream was followed by another, and then three more. Ellie and Chambers followed, clutching their ears, terrified by the noise. Neither had ever heard anything like it.

  “I’ve never seen them in action before!” Sal shouted as Chambers and Ellie caught up to him.

  The Clovis settlement was a half a miles away. It immediately lit up with explosion after explosion – five in total. Black smoke rose from buildings. The cruise missiles hit the fuel storage and grain alcohol flamed into the air and onto surrounding buildings. Ellie was terrified, expecting another missile to land on them. The Clovis guards assigned to watch them ran toward the flaming mess that was once their town. Sal watched, shaking his head.

  “Man, those things are scary. Don’t piss off Dav! Ha!”

  He turned to Chambers. “Please go get some horses ready. If there are any alive, that is.”

  Chapter 17

  Dav scratched her greasy head. Lice.

  “They say…That is, I’ve heard it said, that it is ‘Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.’ I don’t know. I just DON’T know.”

  Dav laid on the floor of her communications room. She’d been on a marathon radio spree, contacting all the locations in California she’d provided for Sal’s journey. She informed them that anyone who collaborated with him would be destroyed. Utterly destroyed. Maybe she’d killed Sal in Clovis, but knowing how smart and handsome Sal was – he’d probably escaped.

  She imagined capturing him and bringing him to Victoria. She would convert him to a begetter. He would improve the genepool considerably. Bring about immunity. The thought tickled her.

  “Thinking that he escaped only makes me want him more! Oh, I wish my female mother were still alive to explain how these men work. I shouldn’t care! I shouldn’t care! But Sal was different. At least I thought he was. Can I send something feral to pounce on him and eat him, Dave? Oh yes, you aren’t here.”

  Dav’s Cruise Missile Targeting Specialist came in per Dav’s orders. Dav sat up and crossed her legs to sit on the floor. The targeting specialist, Mimi, sat down in the same fashion, facing Dav.

  “Have you ever loved, Mimi?”

  “No. I once liked a boy, but that was before I had committed to no breeding.”

  “I know I’m not supposed to like him…them…the boys, but I do. He tricked me. Now I’m sad. Yes, sad.”

  “That’s who we targeted?” Mimi asked.

  “Yes, in that place called Clovis. That’s why you’re here. Are you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sal…Ohmygosh, I just hate saying his name. It hurts. Poor Dav.”

  “It will pass with time,” Mimi assured.

  “Sal provided us imagery of a number of locations, to include those cities in California he was travelling to. Did he give us imagery of anywhere else?”

  “That was it. That’s all we have.”

  “FUNNY! That’s how the living life works. We have cruise missiles, but no means to launch them, because we have no imagery. How did we launch missiles before? We didn’t! We weren’t sad. Then I met Sal. He gave us imagery to use the cruise missiles. Then we could use missiles. Now, Sal is mean, and we can’t use missiles again. We were better off before getting the imagery. We didn’t know what we were missing. Because now, NOW, I love the missiles. They do stuff, and do it well. I can’t imagine not being able to use them.”

  “It’s true,” Mimi replied. “They are a nice capability. But now we’ve lost it…unless we can get imagery.”

  “But Sal has hurt me so, and now I’ve tried to kill him, or maybe even I have. There is too much pain surrounding the imagery. It’s connected to him, and him to the images, and I can’t abide them because of him. Get it?”

  “Then can we get his source of the imagery?”

  “I mean, I guess. I don’t know where it is, is the only thing. It’s in a place called Los Alamos but I don’t know why, or who, or how…I know where that is, though. But…”

  “Dav, we can go to Los Alamos with lots of loyal men willing to fight and die for our ovaries.”

  “Ha! They do die to protect our ovaries! So right, Mimi!”

  “I enjoy respect from you, Dav. If we capture Los Alamos, we control the imagery, and we can target anyone.”

  “How many? How many? How many?”

  “How many what?” Mimi asked.

  “Of those missiles we shoot? How many do we still have?”

  “We’ve never really counted, considered it bad luck. Probably hundreds, though.”

  “Bad luck!? Luck is against Dav Strombeck’s beliefs!”

  The two ladies giggled together and slapped each other on the shoulder, back and forth.

  “So, we need the imagery!” Dav proclaimed, sobering up.

  “Yes, send the men. You should go too, to inspire them, Dav.”

  “Yes, we will go south. Our people have never done that, but it must be done. MUST!”

  “Must.”

  Dav walked back to her home, the tarp strung out amidst the trash heap. Dave was waiting there with a shotgun. He fired it twice in the air to signify the end of the day. It helped Dav sleep.

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  “No problem. You okay?”

  �
��I trusted a man. A chubby man with plenty of fat on his waist. A perfect pre-zombie man. But he was a teensy-weensy little liar…Okay, okay, I’ll be honest, a BIG liar.”

  “Sal?”

  “Yes. It hurts to hear his name.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, no, no, no. It isn’t your fault. Isn’t that why you wake me with a knife, and put me to sleep with a shotgun? It isn’t a ritual, no, no, no. It’s to remind me of threats. Problem was, the threat wasn’t a physical attack. It was the affection of a beautiful, fat man.”

  “How do you know he was beautiful and fat?”

  “I suppose. Well, I suppose. I suppose because he told me and I believed him. Who knows if that was true, either? What is it with these breeders? They act like those ancient paintings, pretending they’re all motionless. But really it’s all movement, all the time. No one is meant to always be moving. I told him my plans, I took him to the top of the pyramid, but I shouldn’t have. I wish I hadn’t, Dave. I’m so sad.”

  Dave felt truly sorry for Dav. It was hard being Dav, it was a burden. “What can I do to help?”

  “I can only think of one thing. We have to destroy all the breeders, like ACTUALLY DESTROY THEM. We’ve talked about it, made threats, but I don’t think we actually had the meat to do it.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Dav, this is Sal. I’m near the wreckage that once was Clovis. You didn’t hit their communications equipment. Can you hear me?” The voice crackled over the radio.

  The Canadian ensign on the other end of the radio was under strict orders, “DO NOT LET DAV’S HEART GET HURT ANYMORE.” The ensign wrote down the message and would pass it to Dave.

  “Dav, you out there? I’m going to Colorado Springs to get ‘it.’ I’ll give it to you if I find it. It will save the world, I know it will. The world is so bad there has to be something to save it, is how my logic goes. Heh, now I’m thinking like you. Well, anyway. Goodbye.”

  The radio operator went to tell Dave, as Dav was to be shielded.

  “We already have cruise missiles inbound on all the other California targets. I’ll add Clovis back to the list for a follow up strike.” Dave ordered. “Send a message out on all channels that we’re offering a bounty for Sal’s head. He’s headed to Colorado Springs.”

  ◆◆◆

  “This place looks good.”

  Obevens pointed to a small adobe hut selling basic supplies. They had some tradable supplies they’d acquired, and needed new water bladders, more ammunition and – if they could find them – sandals.

  The two walked into the hut and nodded to the shopkeeper, who was busy repairing some moccasins.

  Tock said “Dos, uh, zapatos, por favor. Grande.”

  The man looked at Tock’s feet and shook his head.

  “We’ll pay.” Tock opened his hand to reveal some small gold nuggets. The shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders and nodded, rattling off something in Spanish that neither could follow.

  “I think we’re in,” Tock said.

  “Yeah, but who knows what you just ordered?”

  “True.”

  The man sat Tock down to take measurements of his feet and then did the same for Obevens. He kept looking at Tock’s feet and shaking his head at their size.

  “I’m not sure I like this dude,” Tock said.

  A young man, about twenty years old, entered the hut, interrupting Tock’s complaining. He noted Tock and Obevens and asked the shopkeeper a question in Spanish. The shopkeeper waved his hand and replied. Had Obevens and Tock understood, they would have heard the shopkeeper tell the younger man that neither spoke Spanish – so speak freely.

  The young man spoke quietly, still, describing something to the older shopkeeper. He’d been in the desert, but a small herd had chased him from his hunting stand. He also had some news, and an idea. His volume grew as he got further into his explanation. A word caught Obevens’ attention.

  “Wait, what did you say?” Obevens said to the young man, who froze. “You said ‘Sal’. You’re talking about Sal, aren’t you?”

  The young man snorted, suddenly losing his timidity and getting slightly defiant.

  “Do you know where he is?!” Obevens said, standing and getting closer to the young man, who quickly lost the defiant look as he put up his hands to deny everything. “You said ‘Sal,’ I know it! Tell me!”

  “Dude, he don’t understand you,” Tock said quietly.

  “I’m looking for a girl who was with Sal, she’s in danger! Tell me where he is!” The young man started for the door but Obevens grabbed him by the wrist. No sooner had he than the shopkeeper had a rusty shotgun to Obevens’ head. Obevens let go and put his hands in the air.

  “Look, I don’t want to fight. I just need to know where they are! If Sal is travelling, he probably took Ellie with him. I need to find her!”

  “He no know about girl,” the shopkeeper interjected. “He know where Sal ees. Colorado Springs. Every person knows Sal in Colorado Springs.”

  “How does every person know he’s in Colorado Springs?”

  “Money if to kill Sal. Everyone know about money to kill Sal.”

  Obevens let go of the young man. “Well, at least that confirms it’s the right Sal. What other Sal would have a price on his head?”

  “How much money?” Tock asked the shopkeeper.

  Chapter 18 – November 101 A.Z.

  One foot in front of the other.

  Slowly running.

  Endless.

  Eyes looking straight ahead and the faint trail weaving across the landscape. No sleep, 24 hours a day. No need for rest, only the target in sight. Red rocks. Sara.

  Theories from old necromancers held that the rocks possessed a very high iron content. Iron, being an important component of blood, was what zombies were really after. These rocks somehow provided a psychological relief to the hunger, and therefore a way to control the undead.

  Whether the relief was something biological or mystical didn’t matter in John’s mind. All that mattered was getting those rocks back.

  His network of zombie “receptors” reported where her boat had washed ashore after escaping the beach. The undead then tracked her as she dragged herself northeast. John knew where she was headed. She was limping home.

  One foot in front of the other. More steps, the running never ending. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, yet somehow he kept moving.

  “I just…thought that same thing,” he caught himself. He’d noticed the looping – through the same thoughts, the same words, the same memories – seemed to be worse. He wasn’t sure how long he would be trapped in a single loop, but occasionally he would snap out of it as if waking from a dream.

  “I thought my mind was getting better…Still running, still going. No sleep, no…stopping.”

  Then he was right back in the loop. The rocks, Sara, the only thing keeping him on a singular purpose.

  His herd couldn’t keep up with him. After it enveloped Sara’s army and tracked down those who’d fled into the ocean, it turned north to follow John. The herd was hours behind him now, but pressing on.

  “Keep going, my friends. Come with me. Never stop, never sleep, never…” he caught himself looping again. Maybe he should stop and rest. No. No rest.

  Sara might know about Aaron. She might find him. Hurt him. John wasn’t going to let that happen.

  John encountered a human one day along the path north. It startled John out of his daze. He rarely saw people, as he only travelled lesser-used trails through the mountains and then, once he hit the flat desert of northern Mexico, he left trails entirely. Now he was somewhere in the southwest United States, in the trees. In the mountains where he felt safe. He didn’t want to see people. He was afraid what his hunger might make him do.

  The human ran away. Good. Keep running, never stop.

  One foot in front of the other. Each step adds up, gets him to Colorado Springs. The herd urged him on toward that destination. The plan was working. John was pu
shing the necessary pieces into place.

  One day, an otherwise regular day, he noticed them behind him. Ten men also jogging, trying to catch up. Catch him. They had weapons. They were northerners.

  “Go away!” John’s voice was hoarse and hollow from disuse.

  They didn’t respond. John looked back. The men were fresh, clean. They must have staged this from somewhere local. No human trailing him all this time would look like them. John’s clothes were practically rags, his feet calloused, and his skin dark from the sun and coarse from the elements.

  John pushed himself and sped up. These men were here to kill. He wasn’t dying now. His strides reached further than they he’d pushed so far. He felt the strain send a rippling ache through his body, but it quickly went away. Since the bite, he’d noticed a change. Small wounds, cuts, or abrasions healed much faster. That, and then the fact that he’d eaten nothing and hadn’t slept, yet had been running like a machine for longer than he could keep track of.

  One of the men made a play to sprint and catch up to John. The pursuer drew his pistol and let off some wild shots, hitting trees or burying deep into the forest floor. John heard one whizz by his ear, about five feet off its mark.

  The trail followed the contour of the steep hill they were on, but then suddenly went uphill. John, instead, turned downhill. He bounded down the uneven slope, trying to avoid falling. The men behind him slowed down, afraid to match John’s speed. He made it to the bottom, near a dried-out stream, and followed it down, keeping up the pace. Shouts echoed out from above as the men realized they’d lost him.

  “One foot in front of the other. Keep running.”

  John hooked up with a new trail that wound alongside the dried stream. It was covered in deer scat, indicative of the trail’s creators. He ducked under impeding branches and leaped over logs. At some point he let out a deep breath, realizing how tense he was from the attack. This was the first hostility he’d encountered since leaving the coast.

  So caught in thought, he didn’t notice the fishing line running across the ground at ankle height. It caught John’s right foot and sent him stumbling, leaving a bloody gash. As he regained his balance a man came out from behind a tree and hit John square in the face with the butt of a rifle. The world went dark.