Safe Zone (Book 2): The Descent

by Suzanne Sussex

  Joe chats briefly with them, his posture relaxed, but I can feel Annie tensing next to me.

  Neither of us can hear what is being said, but she has worked with Joe enough to sense the way in which the conversation is going.

  The three men move to the back of the cart, and one of the soldiers in the back throws a bag of wheat down to the waiting arms of one the strangers.

  Joe reaches his hand out to shake that of the other man's, but the guy ignores it and gesticulates angrily towards the back of the cart. Joe shakes his head, and I spot his hand signalling behind his back.

  “Pick up your bow and arrow,” Annie whispers to me, and I see her do the same. We both nock and then aim in the direction of the two men. The two soldiers in the back of the cart and the one at the front do the same. Five arrows are now aimed at the two men, and it does not take them too long to notice. We have the advantage, and they know it. The man holding the wheat seems reluctant to let it go so he can use his spear. Leaving one armed man against five.

  “What if there are more of them?” I whisper to Annie.

  “Even if there are, they wouldn’t want to risk the lives of those two,” she replies, speaking out of the side of her mouth, so her words don’t travel.

  “But…”

  “Ssshhh,” Annie cuts me off.

  I fall silent and watch the scene unfold in front of me. The man is now smiling and offering his hand to Joe. They shake and the two men back away as they watch Joe climb back up into the cart.

  “Keep your arrow aimed at them,” Annie tells me as she gets the horses moving again.

  I do as she instructs, but the men offer no further threat and just wave jovially at us as they pass. When they are out of range, I remove the arrow from the nock and put it back in the quiver. I realise I am shaking as the adrenaline leaves my body.

  Annie glances at me, “Are you okay?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie, “But what just happened?”

  “We often meet nozos on our missions, so we bring along some extra supplies to use to negotiate with,” Annie explains.

  “Why don’t we just refuse?” I ask.

  She sighs, “They’re people, Sammie, they’ve chosen a different way of life from us, but does that mean we shouldn’t help them?”

  I fall silent and ponder this for a minute.

  Those men looked unhealthy and dirty, gaunt and unfed. Why would anyone choose to live this way?

  “Annie…” I begin tentatively.

  “Yes,” she’s smiling, as though she knows what I am about to ask.

  “How did they end up as nozos?”

  She smiles, “There are a few reasons. When the outbreak hit, it took some zones months to get organised enough to start searching for survivors. By the time they were found they had established a new way of life, and many of them didn’t want to give that up. Then there were the others that did initially join the zones but couldn’t handle the life in the zone.”

  That makes no sense to me, why would anyone want to live out here when they could be safe inside a zone? I voice my thoughts with a simple, “Why?”

  “It’s hard to explain how different life was before the outbreak. We had the freedom to go where we wanted, do what we wanted. Life in the zones is so different. If you don’t like your job, tough. You have to do it, or you won’t get food. You can’t come and go as you please. I guess some people felt trapped.”

  I can appreciate that, I’ve felt trapped for years and that’s without having anything to compare to.

  Annie continues, “Then there are those who were zoners, but got kicked out,”

  This was news to me, “Really? Why?”

  “Mostly because they had committed crimes. We’re lucky in our zone, we haven’t needed to remove anyone in years. I think it’s over sixteen years ago since we last evicted someone. Some zones are a little harsher on petty crimes than we are though, and boot people two or three times a year.”

  I nod slowly, “But surely that just causes problems later. I mean, don’t those that get kicked out try to take revenge?”

  She raises her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth turn up into a wry smile, “Yep. Unfortunately, some of the other zone leaders did not have the same foresight as you, and have had issues with those exiled. But that’s also why we try to help those that we see along the route. It keeps them on our side.”

  “So why did we refuse to give them more when they asked?” I ask, “How does that help keep them onside?”

  “It’s a fine line with nozos, sure we’ll help them, but they need to understand we can’t be walked over,” Annie explains.

  Everything she says makes sense, but it makes me realise how much I don’t know. It occurs to me that this is less a final assessment of my capabilities and more so the first lesson in the real ways of the outside. Over the years of schooling and then my apprenticeship I have been told so much, but seeing truly is believing. I started this morning, hungry for adventure, naive to how dangerous it can be out here. I still have so much to learn.

  The rest of the journey goes without incident. We do see more nozos, but they just stand and watch us go by and make no move to approach us. As the sun is beginning to set, we approach one of the options I had chosen for our overnight rest.

  It is an abandoned farm house with a large field. The fencing has stood the test of time and means we can allow the horses to roam free for the evening. We sort the animals out first, releasing them from the cart. There’s plenty of grass for them to graze on.

  We find an old metal trough, but it has been eroded by rust and is riddled with holes.

  We have bought a makeshift trough and extra water with us, so I get these from the cart and the horses drink eagerly.

  Annie, Joe and the soldiers are waiting by the door of the farmhouse for me. As I approach, they are all smiling.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Joe grins broadly, “We thought you would like to lead the house clearance.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, grinning back at him, then I look to Annie.

  “Yep,” she smiles, “Joe will be with you to make sure you’re safe, but you’re taking the lead.”

  “Wow, thank you,” I pull the knife from the sheaf on my waist. “Ready Joe?”

  “Yep,” he replies, already holding his knife.

  As I approach the front door, I can feel their eyes boring into my back, and the pressure mounts. Remembering my training, I knock on the front door. That way anyone resident, dead or alive, would be alerted to my presence. It would be dumb to break into someone’s home, but if there are zebs inside, I may hear them groaning and can prepare myself.

  I listen intently but hear nothing. So I take a step back and study the door.

  I have been taught the theory of breaking into a house, but have never actually tried it. The door is large and looks to be made of solid wood. There is no way I will be able to kick my way in. I look at Joe, he looks back at me, still grinning but gives away no hints.

  I step back from the front door and signal for Joe to follow me, then together we walk to the back of the house. The back door is also wooden but panelled, not solid. It should be easier to break down, so I glance at Joe again. Just because I’m leading this, it doesn’t mean I can’t delegate tasks.

  “Joe, would you mind kicking the door in please,”

  “Not at all, boss,” he grins, “But isn’t there something you want to try first?”

  I stare at him in confusion, then it clicks. Shit.

  “Um, yeah right,” I say as I turn the handle, and it turns. The door isn’t even locked. Before I push the door open I turn to Joe, feeling the burn in my cheeks, “Um … can you not mention this to Annie?”

  He chuckles, “Our little secret,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I reply, then take a deep breath. I grip the knife tight in my right hand and hold the doorknob with my left. Slowly I twist it and the door swings open.

/>   I step into a kitchen and look around. A closed door leads further into the house. The kitchen is large. Pots and pans hang from the ceiling over a large Aga, and a sideboard displays a set of faded floral patterned crockery. Everything is coated in thick dust. No one has been here for a very long time. I signal to Joe that it’s safe to enter.

  Next, I approach the closed door and once again, pause to listen intently. Satisfied that I hear nothing, I push the door open and reveal a living area. The curtains are closed, but they’re threadbare and let in sufficient light to allow me to scan the room and be comforted that it is empty.

  Two doors lead off from the lounge. I signal to Joe to check the one closest to him, while I check the other. Joe’s door leads to another empty room and mine to a hallway.

  The hallway is clear, so I make my way up to the stairs, indicating that Joe should follow me. I creep slowly up and as I place my foot on the last step, the old staircase lets out a loud creak. I freeze and pause, listening.

  Then I hear it; a muted groan comes from one of the rooms. I deliberately shift my weight, and the stairs creak again, instantly followed by a moan.

  This time I was waiting for it and easily detect that the noise is coming from the room immediately at the top of the stairs.

  “Do you want me to …” Joe starts, but I shake my head firmly.

  “Nope, I need to learn.”

  I approach the door. I’ve been told so many times about the noise that zebs make, but I hadn’t realised just how creepy it was until hearing it for myself. I hold one finger up to Joe, indicating that I think that there is only one zeb in the room.

  I pull the door open and jump back, holding my knife at eye level. The zombie lunges through the open door directly at me, and I realise my mistake. I had assumed the zombie was an adult. It didn’t occur to me to prepare for a child. My knife is held too high, and I don’t react quickly enough. It pounces on me, knocking me off balance. I fall backwards, landing sharply on my coccyx. Pain shoots through my backside and for a moment I am unable to draw breath. I push my discomfort to the back of my mind and concentrate on the matter at hand. I didn’t realise it but when I fell, I gripped the zeb’s shoulder with my left hand, which was enough to keep it from chomping down on me.

  But I’ve let go of the knife and I frantically pat the floor, trying to feel for it, not daring to take my eyes away from the zeb. My hand touches something metal, and I close my fist around the handle. With more force that I knew that I possessed, I plunge the blade into the side of its head.

  The zeb goes limp, and I push it off me. For a second I sit there, stunned and panting heavily, then I glance up at Joe, who is causally leaning against a wall, grinning.

  “What the hell, Joe?” I demand angrily. “Why didn’t you help?”

  “You didn’t need my help,” he stated, still smiling.

  I narrow my eyes at him, anger knotting my stomach, “It could have bitten me.”

  “Yep,” he agrees.

  My mouth hangs open, how can he be so casual about this?

  “It didn’t though, did it?” he adds, holding out a hand to pull me up.

  The anger and fear leave me instantly, and I start to laugh uncontrollably, “No, I guess not.”

  “You did well,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I splutter, still laughing.

  “What did you do wrong?” he asks. I look up at him sharply, because his tone is now serious and his face stern.

  I stop laughing, and I take in a big breath, “Um, I assumed it was going to be an adult.”

  “Yep, but that could have been easily rectified when you saw it was a child. What else?”

  I think on this, on how easily a small zeb managed to push me to the floor. “I was too tense, so it took me longer to change position, plus I wasn’t bracing myself.”

  “Exactly,” he nods, “Next time make sure you have your feet spread further apart and your weight on your front foot, loosen your knife-holding arm so you can move quickly.”

  I take on his advice, and at the next door, I do exactly that, though there’s no sign of life on the other side. The final door opens up onto a large bedroom that has another room leading from it. There’s a muted groan from behind the closed door. I approach it cautiously and check my stance before pulling the door open. Once again the zombie lunges at me, but I’m ready this time, and I quickly side step, letting it stumble past me, then I stick my knife into the back of its head. It drops.

  “Well done,” Joe says, “That was perfect.”

  I flush with pride, “Thanks.”

  We clear the rest of the rooms; there are no more zebs in the house. We drag the two fallen zombies into one of the rooms and close the door. Joe takes out a pen knife and marks the door with an X.

  “So we remember there are bodies in here,” he says, “in case, we or anyone else comes here.”

  I nod at him, that makes sense.

  “Your girl did well,” Joe tells Annie when we open the front door to let everyone else in.

  “There was never a doubt,” she replies, smiling coyly back at him.

  Before settling down for the evening we go from room to room, searching for any useful supplies to take back to the zone, and we find plenty. Too much to carry with us, so we only take the important items, which include batteries, candles, oil, and hundreds of shotgun shells. It’s rare that we find ammunition. But the guns we have in the zone are always maintained, just in case. Joe is elated at the find. I guess he prefers guns to knives. After my encounter with child zombie earlier, I can understand why.

  We eat a meal of dry meats, cheese and bread and settle in for the night. Joe and Annie take first watch.

  The other three soldiers head to the main bedroom with their kit bags and I choose one of the smaller bedrooms that doesn’t contain the dead undead.

  I take the dusty duvet cover off the bed and put my sleeping bag in its place. Curling up, I think I’ll never sleep with the corpses in the next room, but before I know it I'm being woken up to take my shift on guard.

  I head sleepily downstairs and find one of the soldiers that was sitting in the back of the cart. I realise that I don’t know his name. In the excitement of the day, it just had not occurred to me to ask. Swallowing my embarrassment, I apologise for my ignorance, which he accepts gracefully and tells me his name is Tom. For a while we chat about nonsense, and Tom tells me about his family. He has a six-week-old baby called Hope. I keep my lips firmly sealed together when he tells me her name. I’ve lost count of how many Hopes and Faiths we have in the zone now. The name is such a cliché.

  I ask him how he feels about leaving his wife and new born baby behind to go out on missions. He shrugs as though it hadn’t occurred to him to consider or question why that would be a difficult thing.

  I would guess his age at mid-thirties, so he would have been around before all of this happened, but he would probably have been trained as a soldier almost immediately. Going out on dangerous missions is just his way of life.

  Tom tells me about some of the missions he has been on in the past, and I listen with rapt attention. The time flies, and it does not feel long before we are waking up the other two soldiers, whose names Tom has told me are Harry and Richard, Dick for short.

  I find Annie asleep in the room I was in earlier and climb back into my sleeping bag. I lie there for a few moments and think about the next day. We should get to the factory before lunchtime. We’ll have to fight through a load of zebs to get inside. The thought should scare me, but it doesn’t. I know I can handle zebs now and I know that the team have my back in case anything goes wrong.

  I drift off to sleep, my final thought being one of excitement for what tomorrow will bring.

  Chapter Six

  Brian listened as Jay gave his report. He kept his face impassive, hiding the true extent of his feelings at the update. It was unsettling, to say the least. The confidence in his leadership was fading fast following the recent sabotage attempt
s. The scapegoats he had used to lay the blame did not go far enough to appease the angry and starving residents of Zone G. It was becoming harder to silence the dissenters. Until they found a popular replacement, he was confident that there was no immediate threat of a coup. But he needed to act quickly to regain the trust of the zone.

  Failing that, he needed to scare the residents into submission. He realised that Jay had finished speaking and was waiting for an acknowledgement, “Thank you, keep me posted on any developments,” he said.

  “Of course, Mr Crowe,” Jay nodded.

  “Gary,” Brian turned towards the man in charge of zone security. “How are we doing on numbers?”

  “As of this morning, we have four thousand, nine hundred and twenty-four zebs contained. With the ten patrols we have out today, we should exceed five thousand by the end of the day.

  “Excellent,” Brian smiled for the first time since the two men entered the room. “Any problems to report?”

  Gary shook his head, “None … although some of the men are starting to ask questions.”

  “Hmm,” Brian frowned, “I would suggest you remind them what curiosity did to the cat.”

  The message was veiled, but the meaning was clear. Make an example of the next person who voiced any suspicion.

  “Anything else to report?” Brian asked. The two men shook their heads. “Thank you.”

  Taking this as a dismissal the two men left the room.

  When the door was closed, Brian sank back into his chair and gazed unseeing at the ceiling, contemplating the situation he now found himself in.

  It had taken him nearly twenty years since the outbreak to finally gain his rightful position as the zone's leader.

  Before the outbreak, he had worked for his family’s investment banking company, a job he had acquired through heritage rather than skill. He had considered himself a big deal and influential in his circle, and spent more time schmoozing potential clients than actually working.