by M. D. Massey
“Oh, don’t thank me. Bobby’s the one who hauled your ass out of there. And you can thank Gabby, too, for standing guard over you while we fought our way out.”
He gave her a dreamy grin. “I would kiss your hand, milady, except that I am not fond of black eyes,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.
TWENTY
UPROAR
The next day, Christopher felt well enough to head back to the castle house, or at least that’s what he said. I felt bad about sending him and Matthew back by themselves, but they’d both proven to be more than capable trackers and hunters. I was certain they would be able to make it home without a hitch. Or, so I kept telling myself.
Honestly, I was more than a bit upset by the hints that the nos’ had dropped about Kara, and itching to get on with this rescue and get my people back to the Facility. Time seemed to be running out on us, and although I hadn’t based my plans on a single, precipitous event, something told me that any delay was going to cost me something fierce when all was said and done.
I eventually found a compromise between my conscience and my eagerness to get on with the mission by talking the boys into staying behind at the safe house one more day. Another day wouldn’t hurt them in the least; it’d allow Christopher to recover from his ordeal with the bloodsucker, and it’d make me feel a whole lot better knowing he was heading back in top form. Granted, we wouldn’t be able to help them at all once we were out of contact, but it was better than letting them go back with Christopher still under the weather.
Happy to have that settled, it was time to move forward with rescuing Kara and the settlers. My plan was to observe the Corridor pack while remaining unseen, determine their movement patterns, and then set an ambush for them. I took out the maps we’d been given by Donnie the Wendigo and consulted with Matthew and Christopher regarding the area. They said they’d stayed away from the local stores and avoided scavenging them, simply due to the proximity to the wolves. I hoped that meant we’d find a few places that hadn’t been picked clean. I knew of at least one warehouse store and an outdoor goods store I wanted to hit for supplies before I set my plan in motion.
I had an idea of what I wanted to do and how I wanted to do it, but without the right gear we’d be back to square one. I had Gabby and Bobby rest up until nightfall; then we said our goodbyes, loaded up, and headed out. We traveled a few miles northeast until we found a place to hole up in, isolated by geography and terrain. We settled in an abandoned mega-church that sat up on a hill, bordered on two sides by freeways that kept the larger deader herds away. After a few hours of work clearing the upper floor of deaders, we got situated and set up a watch, just in case any of the wolves came sniffing around.
We spent the day hanging out and generally just resting up, taking naps and taking turns on watch. It was uneventful, at best. I didn’t see any of the wolves during my time on watch, and the kids reported the same. I had a sneaking suspicion that either the wolves had gotten lazy over the years, overconfident and assured of their superiority in the local food chain, or that they had other creatures keeping watch for them. Considering what I’d heard about this Van character, I suspected that it was the former and not the latter. Big egos led to big mistakes.
Eventually I just couldn’t sleep any longer. I got up and started searching the rooms on the second floor. I found a small kitchenette that yielded some crackers, a few jars of baby food, and some bottled water. Bottled water always came in handy, despite being heavy and taking a lot of space. Boiling water to disinfect it was often difficult in the Badlands, since a fire could bring down baddies on your head if you weren’t careful. The smell of smoke would carry for miles, and certain top-level supernatural predators had learned to follow the scent to its source for an easy meal.
Most folks just hauled as much water as they could when away from the settlements. Me, I liked to hedge my bets. I kept some iodine tabs with me in my pack. They kept indefinitely and were quite reliable for disinfecting water collected from natural sources. The tablets came from my stockpile of various survival items I’d hidden at my ranch back out west. Although those resources wouldn’t last forever, I’d been judicious enough in their use to make them last until now. I also made a habit of scavenging for resources wherever I went; my miserly ways were much of what had kept me alive for so long.
A search of the other rooms revealed a nursery, more classrooms, and a church library. Most of the books they had were nothing but Christian pop psychology garbage; pray this way and you’ll be blessed with wealth and all that happy horseshit. However, I did find a copy of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe that was in good condition, so I read it while I waited for the kids to wake up.
After that, I busied myself with cleaning my weapons and counting ammo. I still had my Glocks, Bowie knife, tomahawk, and the MP7’s, the Stoner, and the light .50 in the bag. We had plenty of ammo left, as well as the other party favors I’d packed back at Kara’s place. All in all, I’d say we were ready as ever to make the shit hit the fan once the wolves showed up.
That was the problem: getting them to show when we were ready, and choosing the field of battle so we’d have home court advantage. Both would be key to getting out of this alive. I also needed to ensure that I didn’t place the kids in more danger than was necessary, that we took out as many wolves as possible as quickly as possible, and that we drew them away from their compound before we engaged the fight.
I just had to do the impossible. Business as usual.
I spent the remainder of the day mulling over my plan as I cleaned and oiled each weapon, taking particular time with the katana and the fully-automatic weapons; I’d be relying on them once we locked horns with the ‘thropes. By the time Gabby and Bobby started to stir, I had a good idea of what we’d do and how we’d do it. I felt fairly confident we’d be able to pull it off.
I gave Gabby and Bobby a few minutes after they woke up to get ready. Then I rubbed my hands together and grinned. “Good news, kids. Tonight we’re going shopping.”
We left the building at a trot, heading across the access road and sneaking over to the other side of the expressway. I left most of the ordinance behind at the church; I’d send Bobby back for it once we were secure in our observation post later. But first, we needed some gear.
One of the reasons I’d selected the church for our temporary hideout was because it sat near a large outdoor sporting goods store. I hoped we’d find most of what we needed there; if not, I’d have to revise my already crazy plan considerably.
We got across the expressway without a hitch and moved at a steady pace while avoiding contact with deaders as much as possible. They were sparse here, but still a danger. Any bodies we left would let the local wolves know that someone was operating in their territory. My plan relied on absolute stealth until we sprung the trap, so we did our best to avoid attracting attention from the odd shambler we ran across.
The thing about Z’s was they were attracted to differences in their local environment. In a sense, they were a lot like animals in how they functioned, naturally curious regarding anything that might result in a meal. My hope was that we’d be able to cross the half-mile or so to our destination without incident, and that the front of the store would already have some sort of breach, like a broken window or an open door. That way, we could enter and leave without any of the local deaders being the wiser.
As we edged past the supermarket across from the sporting goods store, my heart sank at the scene before us. Not only was the front of the store intact; someone had boarded it up tight. But that wasn’t even the real kicker, not by a long shot. Nope. The real boot to the balls was the huge herd of deaders milling around in the parking area out front, moaning and banging on a minivan at the center of the lot.
I gave Gabby and Bobby the signal to move back and stay hidden. Meanwhile, I pulled out my monocular and snuck to a place where I could get a good look at what had these deaders riled. But unfortunately, I couldn’t see insid
e the van; there were just too many deaders in the way. Probably some punter who got separated from his crew, I reflected. Not even worth the trouble to save.
I moved in a crouch back to where Bobby and Gabby hid and directed them to follow me around the back of the grocery. The good news was that all the deaders in the immediate area were in front of the sporting goods store, giving us a clear path to the back of the building, where I hoped we could find a way to get inside. That it had been buttoned up tight when the shit hit the fan was a bonus, but I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. Anyone might have come along before us and cleaned the place out already. If the store had gone all this time entirely unmolested, I’d be shocked.
We snuck to the back of the place and found the loading dock; sure enough, the back door showed signs of forced entry, but there was little chance we’d be able to open it ourselves without drawing attention from the deader herd. The door had recently been jimmied. Whoever had gotten through before us had damaged the door mechanism so badly that there was no way to pick the lock. Bobby gave it a couple of good tugs, but even he couldn’t budge it. Either it was latched from the inside, or they’d somehow managed to jam it shut to protect their find. Or, they’d broken in and locked the door behind them and never left.
Well, time to get inventive. I searched the back wall for a moment until I found a drain pipe that led up the side of the building, signaling Bobby and Gabby to scale the wall while I kept watch. I followed them up, and we began our search for a roof access point. Nothing. Time for plan B, then. We’d have to make some noise.
I pointed to one of the air vents on the roof and whispered to Bobby. “That’s our way in. I need you to rip if off, as quiet as possible. And by ‘quiet’ I mean fast, just like ripping off a Bandaid. The faster you rip it off, the louder it’ll be, but the sound won’t last as long so it’ll be less likely to attract the wolves. Got it?”
He nodded and whispered back. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
I leaned against the wall at the front of the building and kept an eye on the deader herd. Then, I gave him the signal. Bobby grabbed the vent cover with one hand and tore it from the roof like a carnival strongman tearing a phonebook in two. The noise was loud, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I crossed my fingers that none of the pack was near enough to hear.
I peeked over the edge of the roof, just to see how many deaders we’d riled; roughly twenty were headed toward us. We weren’t in much danger unless they rushed the front of the store, and even then they might not get through. Still, a hundred deaders banging on a plywood barricade would just draw in more deaders, so I was glad the noise hadn’t been any louder. Satisfied that we were undiscovered, I was just about to go check out the hole in the roof when I noticed movement inside that minivan. Apparently whoever was trapped inside had heard the racket.
Out of curiosity, I pulled out the optic again and took a look at the van’s occupant. From my higher vantage point, I could just see through the windshield into the space between the front seats, and was greeted by a face I’d never thought to see again.
Lo’ and behold, it was Sam Tucker.
TWENTY-ONE
MIGHTY
Sam Tucker was a caravaneer and scavenger who worked all the abandoned cities south and west of Austin in the Corridor. He had based his operations out of the settlement where Kara and I had lived and frequented her bar before the ‘thrope attack. He was also one of the few friends I had in this world, and on the even shorter list of people I trusted. No way I was going to leave him to die.
Through the monocular, I could see he was looking around to locate whoever or whatever had made all that racket. From what I could tell, he looked to be in pretty decent shape. The weather had turned cooler, so he couldn’t be baking too much inside the van during the day. Still, I’d bet dimes to donuts he was running out of water and food, and that he wouldn’t last two more days. Most folks couldn’t carry more than three or four liters on them, and even if he’d rationed his water out, he was probably on his last dregs.
I put the monocular up and crawled over to Gabby and Bobby. “New plan. We’re going to go inside this place and get what we need, then I’m going to draw off that herd while you two rescue the occupant of that vehicle down below.”
Gabby arched an eyebrow and smirked. “I take it you know this person?”
“He’s not a punter—he’s a friend from the settlements. And not only that, but I figure he was tracking the wolves after they took everyone—there’s no other reason why he’d be here. He might have some useful intel on the status of Kara and the settlers, and what we’re facing.”
Bobby raised his hand. “You should let me do it. I’m a lot faster, plus I’m not sick.” I started to protest, but he held up a hand to shut me up. “Now, now, you know as well as Gabby and me that you’re not exactly up to snuff. All it would take is for you to have another episode, and then those shamblers would have you for dinner. I’ll draw them off, and you and Gabby get what you need from inside. I’ll meet you back at the church before dawn.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic. “Alright, you win. Let’s get what we came for, and then we’ll deal with Sam.”
I stuck my head into the hole we’d made, and saw nothing but a lot of HVAC vents and a drop ceiling about ten feet or so below. We’d lucked out and broken in over the upstairs offices. I pulled a rope out of my pack, tied it off on one of the HVAC units on the roof, and swung into the darkness below, sliding down until my feet hit a ceiling tile. I kicked it to the floor below, then I followed it down, sliding down the rope with care so I didn’t tear more flesh from my already damaged hands.
At the bottom, I moved off to one side and drew the sword. The tomahawk might have been better for close spaces, but I had tied it to my pack, so the katana would have to do. Gabby and Bobby dropped down and fell in behind me, and we moved forward to explore the store.
We stopped at the exit to the room we’d dropped into, which was a storeroom for returned goods. I looked around and grinned; it was a mess, but if previous visitors had ransacked the showroom floor, this was where we’d find what we needed. I signaled Bobby to listen for deadheads outside the door, and he indicated that he heard nothing moving on the other side.
We entered the store’s stock room, which looked similarly neglected by looters. Something was off with this place, and I wondered what the hell had kept people from ransacking it after the bombs fell and They came. Experience taught me that something bad had to have been keeping people away. Could’ve been the wolves, or maybe a seriously heavyweight supernatural baddie had decided to make this place their home. Regardless, it was definitely a proceed with caution situation. I gave the “eyes and ears” signal to the kids, and they acknowledged.
I paused at the storeroom door and peeked out the window. If anything was out there, it was quiet as a church mouse. I cracked the door and listened, sniffing the air on the odd chance that I’d catch a whiff of whatever was waiting for us outside. I picked up diddly squat, so I turned to the wonder twins to see if they had caught anything I missed. Both shook their heads with wide eyes and furrowed brows.
I slowly pushed the door open and tiptoed out into the short hall that led to the retail area, sneaking along the wall the whole way. Still, nothing.
I stepped out onto the sales floor and whispered, “Looks like the coast is clear, guys.”
And that’s when I got blindsided by the biggest, ugliest-looking thing I’d ever seen.
One second I was whispering to the kids that the coast was clear, and the next I was flying through the air, sailing across the room into the outdoor clothing section. I landed on a rack of ski jackets, which partially cushioned my fall, but hitting the metal frame underneath was still no picnic. I picked myself up and shook the cobwebs off only to see Bobby in his full-on wolf-boy mode, battling it out with a seven-plus-foot-tall monstrosity. The thing had hands the size of dinner plates and wore a military trench coat
over a hoodie, cargo pants, and the biggest pair of hiking boots I’d ever seen. It looked sort of human, but I couldn’t see its face within its hood, so it was anyone’s guess what we were dealing with here.
The first thing I thought when I got a good look at it was, I didn’t know they made hiking boots that big. The second thought that came to mind was, Bobby doesn’t look like he’s doing so hot against this thing. And he wasn’t. The kid would dive under a huge swing of the creature’s arm, take a couple of swipes back at the thing’s legs, torso, or back, and then the massive beast would snatch him and toss him across the room like a sack of potatoes. All the while, Gabby was filling it with crossbow bolts like a voodoo priestess taking revenge on her cheating ex-boyfriend, with little to no effect.
How did I know it wasn’t human? Call it instinct or observation, but between the way it was moving—sort of like a herky-jerky puppet on crystal meth—and the fact that Bobby’s attacks didn’t slow it in the slightest, I had a strong suspicion that it wasn’t of the species homo sapiens. Whatever this thing was, it was either impervious to werewolf claws, or it just didn’t care. Either way, I needed to get over there and even the odds.
I reached over my shoulder for the katana, only to realize that it flew away from me when I’d sailed across the room. So, I went for the next best thing. I dropped my pack and grabbed my trusty old tomahawk in one hand, and drew my Bowie knife with the other. Weapons in hand, I sprinted back across the room and into the battle.
As I got close to being within striking range, the creature seemed to sense me and swung an arm in my direction. But the battle lust sung a war song deep inside my chest, high and pure and sweet, so I didn’t even slow down. I just slid underneath that huge tree limb of an arm and hacked at the thing’s right thigh above the knee as I slid past. Then I spun and slashed the back of its leg above the knee with the Bowie knife, ducked as it tried to grab me with its other arm, and slashed at its Achilles’ tendon on the other leg.