He went back to the spot of his first kiss with Harper. Back to the place where Derek talked to him about what it meant to be a man. Where he gave him his first beer and the old Zippo that he’d lost. Back to the spot where his mom said her goodbyes to Derek and floated his body down the river. He knew she was still out there somewhere wandering around, still leading the horde away, but that wasn’t his mom. Not anymore. He believed the undead were soulless. When they died the first death, the spirit departed and left a shell that didn’t know it was dead.
He wished he was strong like Otis, the mighty oversized Kodiak. The word lingered in his mind. Kodiak. Feared. Respected. Nothing in the wild took anything from the big bears. Nothing crossed them. Other animals ran. Ran in fear for their lives. Cody squatted on the riverbank and put his hands in the water. It was cold. It was pure. It rolled on and on, an unstoppable force taking anything that stood in its way with it. If his tribe were going to survive in this ruthless new world, he needed to lead them in a ruthless new way. He needed to do what they couldn’t.
He rose and stripped off his weapons, armor and clothes until he stood naked in the falling snow. The old Cody had to put away childish things, to die and be baptized into something new.
He dove into the cold, slow moving waters of the Mississippi and swam for the bottom as the frigid river worked to force the air from his lungs. Numbness settled into his muscles as he found mud then dug his hands and feet into it. He forced himself downward, let out a little air so he could lay on the bottom and faced the surface. The cloud of muddy water was swept away and he lay there still and silent and felt the mighty river gently tug at him. The clouds slid away from the moon and the world at the bottom of the river brightened. He could see the snow falling and disappearing as it hit the surface. He willed his weakness away, demanded the river to take it and carry it to the ocean. When he came out of the water, he would be a new man he told himself. He wouldn’t surface until he was sure he had the guts to be as hard as he needed to be.
At church, he’d seen the miracle of baptism. He’d seen drunken Willie Hodges finally join his wife after she’d come alone ever since Cody had known her. Willie was a mean drunk and a lay about that liked to smack her around. They lived in a run-down trailer and everyone said he was white trash, and that she deserved better. When he finally got saved and came up out of the water, he was a changed man. He put down the bottle, got a steady job and went to service every Sunday. He had become a good man. Everyone said it was a miracle and Cody needed one now. He would stay on the bottom, in the mud, until he was sure he had it. Until the old Cody was gone and a new one emerged.
They attended a Baptist church and the preacher liked his fire and brimstone sermons. In Sunday school, when he was little, they’d learned about Jesus and love and charity and helping the less fortunate. When he started staying upstairs with his mom for the grown-up sermons, the preacher spoke of an angry God who gave men power to destroy their enemies. Bad men were used to do good things. The icy waters slowed his heart and he knew he needed air, the edges of his vision started turning black, but he waited. He prayed his weakness away and willed himself to become who he needed to be. To have what it took to save his Tribe. To be a bad man so he could do good things. He would wait until he died if he had to before he rose up too soon. He wasn’t cold anymore and the river seemed crystal clear. He saw a face in the moon and the mud wrapped around him felt warm, like an electric blanket. A fish swam lazily by a few feet above his face and there was a sudden explosion on the surface. Otis dipped his head in the water so fast the fish didn’t have time to react. Sharp teeth clamped down and before it could thrash its tail, it was jerked out. Swift, violent death in an instant. Cody was so startled he almost gasped in a lungful of water but held still. In less than a second, even the ripples disappeared and the face in the moon was still smiling down. The fish was gone, as if it never existed. He had his answer. Some things died so others may live. On the verge of passing out, he pushed out of the mud toward the surface and kicked his legs upward.
Cody Wilkes never emerged from those icy cold waters, what remained of the innocent boy was swept away in the current of the mighty Mississippi. Disappeared like the fish. A ruthless warrior that came to be known as Kodiak waded ashore.
45
Tribe
“Cody’s coming.” Murray said from his spot by the window. It had been hours and the twins were already discussing going to look for him. Relief flooded their faces and Harper ran to the door to open it. She threw her arms around him then exclaimed and dragged him over to the fire to warm up. It was roaring in the hearth and Otis nudged the triplets out of his favorite spot.
Cody looked around the room, at the unopened presents under the tree and the table still set for Christmas dinner then asked the obvious. “No word from Donny?”
Murray shook his head and looked at his watch again for the ten thousandth time. It was nearly two in the morning. The snows had finally stopped and the thermometer showed twenty-nine degrees.
“If he found her, he wouldn’t try to bring her back. It’s not ten below zero, it’s not a killing cold but he would get her inside someplace.” Harper said again, same as she told the others before. “A nice, warm bed with plenty of blankets.”
“There’s no use going to look for them, either, Cody.” she added. “We’d never spot them in the dark and the tracks are long covered.”
He nodded, didn’t offer an argument and turned his back to the fire to face them.
“It’s my fault this happened.” he said. “I didn’t want to change. I wanted our old world back and I thought any other survivors would too. I was wrong and I see that now. People like Gordon don’t change. They don’t suddenly turn into nice people; they just get meaner and we have to be as ruthless as them if we’re going to make it. My kindness, us giving him chance after chance to fit in has ended in disaster. I should have let Swan and Donny kill him. I should have killed him myself. If you think I’m still fit to lead, I won’t make the same mistake twice. The Tribe is all we have. It’s what keeps us alive and we can’t let outsiders take us down.”
“Of course, you’re fit to lead.” Harper said and the others joined in. “It wasn’t just you, we all gave him second and third chances.”
“Not us.” Tobias said. “I wanted to throw him out months ago.”
“Then call me Kodiak from now on.” Cody said. “It’ll be a reminder every time I hear my name of who I have to be.”
“Can I have a warrior name too?” Landon asked “I can fight.”
Murray watched the banter as all of them thought of new names they liked but it was all in fun, something to joke about. He noticed something subtlety different about Cody. Or Kodiak as he wanted to be called. He couldn’t put a finger on it and point out exactly what it was but he wasn’t the same boy who had left to make a perimeter check earlier that afternoon. Maybe it was the way he carried himself as he ignored the cuts and bruises and rope burns. He was a little harder. A little more predatory and his eyes never stopped moving.
46
Richard
They drank heavier than usual and the mood was black once they finally made it back to Smiths Landing. Richard had a celebration planned but it was more like a funeral party. They had returned half frozen, miserable and empty handed after the long, cold ride. They had risked their lives for nothing and had run away from a bunch of little kids like whipped dogs. They had no plundered booty, no animal heads as trophies, and no girls as new play toys. Gordon tried to turn their defeat into a victory, tried to brag about leading the zombies in to teach them a lesson but Richard was scathing with his reply.
“I thought I sent you down there to get girls, Gordy. I wanted you to bring them back, not turn them into more zombies!”
Nobody stood up for him. Nobody admitted they thought it was a good idea at the time, that they all wanted a little payback.
The more they drank the angrier they became and for some reason Go
rdon got most of the blame. He was supposed to know the lay of the land, he had lived with them for months. He should have known they would have tricks. The only thing he’d warned everyone about was the animals. They were dangerous. They were vicious. They were unpredictable. They needed to shoot them the instant they saw them. Once the animals were down, the brats would be easy to control. They hadn’t seen a single one of the so-called fearsome beasts and had been outsmarted by a bunch of ten-year old’s. It didn’t sit well with any of them.
“Maybe they’re hibernating.” Squirrel said, commiserating with them. “Maybe they’re not dangerous in the winter.”
“Well those damn kids were. Pinpoint accuracy with those spears and arrows.” Jester complained, “and we had no idea where they were coming from. We were sitting ducks.”
“We do things different next time.” Richard said. “Next time we do it my way.”
“I say we leave them alone.” his step mom said. “They don’t have anything we need.”
Richard eyed her coldly and she dropped her gaze. She had spoken out of turn and bit her lower lip. Richard wasn’t kind when he was angry.
“They have something that I need.” he said, his eyes boring into her. “I want this Harper girl everyone is saying looks so wonderful. This beauty queen who hasn’t been used up.”
The words cut her but she knew better than to argue. Her husband was still stumbling around in the empty pool and that was all the reminder she needed that he could be cruel. If she knew what was good for her, she would keep her mouth shut.
Gordon started to protest, Harper was his girl, but stopped mid-sentence when Richard turned to stare him down, dared him to say something.
“You had your chance.” he continued, then turned to address the room. “They killed Smoke in case you’ve forgotten. He was my best friend. They can’t be allowed to get away with that. They started this war and we’re going to finish it. Next time, I’m leading us down there. Next time, the Landing doesn’t get its ass kicked by a bunch of little kids with oversized pets. Next time, we teach them who’s in charge.”
Richard raised the bottle then took a long pull of the tequila. He had sent his guys down expecting an easy victory and a few new girls but it had become more than that with the second defeat. He wasn’t used to losing, not in Hockey or baseball or life in general. Lowery’s were winners. Period. He absolutely positively would not let a bunch of middle schoolers embarrass him.
He had misjudged Gordon’s ability to lead. How hard could it be? They had superior numbers, superior firepower and the snowmobiles made it too easy. They could go anywhere; they weren’t confined to the roads or trails. If they ran into a horde, no problem. Take a left and go around them. Even the animals, the much-ballyhooed killer animals hadn’t made an appearance. Squirrel was probably right; they were all hibernating. It was too bad Smoke had gotten killed and not Gordon. Smoke had a head on his shoulders, he could be trusted.
Richard decided he would ease up on Gordy a little, let him think he was in charge of something. He’d let him strut around like he was important because the idiot got things done around the Landing. He liked to brag about how he’d survived in the wild and how he had killed more of the undead than all the rest of them combined. He talked big talk but so far, Richard was unimpressed. Gordy seemed to be fine as long as he was inside the walls. He fretted about the fences and supplies and that was good, somebody had to. He didn’t drink much or argue over whose turn it was with the girls so he had his uses. He’d proven that he couldn’t be trusted with any big plans though, any war plans, and there certainly would be war. Gordy couldn’t think on his feet, he couldn’t adapt and overcome.
Now that they’d been outside the gates, now that they’d seen it wasn’t so scary out there after all, there were whole new opportunities to explore. The undead were slow in the cold and the snowmobiles could take them anywhere so he started working on a plan of his own.
47
Donny
Donny ran, following the snowmobile tracks out of the hole in the fence and down the road. He paced himself and the big cat loped along beside him. The trail got confusing with all the undead footprints and other riders tracks but one set was a little fresher, a little less obscured by the falling snow. They had left him behind, his path much clearer and newer than the others. It was obvious Gordon wasn’t trying anything evasive, he was on a straight line right back to where ever he came from and Donny picked up the pace. Maybe he would have to stop to refill or maybe Swan would figure out some way to slow him down. Maybe he could catch him then.
Yewan stopped by the side of the road and waited. Donny looked back then slowed his pace. He tapped metal on metal.
Come.
Yewans yellow eyes watched him, a black shadow on white snow and flicked his tail. Donny stopped and retraced his footsteps to see what was intriguing the panther. He spotted the paw prints halfway down the slope and there was a splash of blood still visible. They hyenas had taken off through the woods but he wasn’t interested in them. He wanted to chase Gordon and Swan. He placed a hand on Yewan and tapped the metal again.
Come.
The cat ignored him and sprang lightly down the incline and disappeared into the woods. Donny glared after him but guessed he couldn’t smell Swan and Gordon, probably only the metal and gas of the machine. He could smell the wolves though and Swans smell was all over them. He was following that scent. He couldn’t leave him, he was no match for the two hyenas and he didn’t want to follow, he wanted to chase Gordon. He finally slammed his spear in frustration and plunged in after him.
He was sniffing the body of one of the huge hunchbacked creatures when he burst through the brambles that grew thick at the side of the road and into the woods. The snow wasn’t as deep, the evergreen and spruce trees acted as natures canopies. The darkness was deeper, though. The same trees blotted out the moonlight. He spotted boot prints, small ones, and his eyes grew wide. One of them must have been carrying Swan. There were wolf prints, signs of a scuffle then all three sets went deeper into the forest. Donny was confused by what he saw but Swan had to be chasing after the Hyena, if it was chasing her, it would have caught her in a few quick bounds. He placed his forehead against Yewans, thanked him, then they were both running again, this time he let him lead.
They followed the prints and the smells across fields and back into woods. They wound down by the river and through the yards of long abandoned houses. They found the half eaten, half frozen body of Lucy but the trail continued, the wolf and the moccasins followed the giant paw prints of the Hyena.
The moon was waning and the heavy snows had tapered off when he found them. Yewan was sniffing a mound of snow at the base of a massive downed tree. Zero chuffed from inside the snowbank when he stooped to see what held his interest. He dug through and found them curled up in the hole the oak had left in the ground when it tumbled over. The roots, covered in years of vine growth, and the snow had made a cave and the two were huddled together. He crawled in with Yewan right behind him. He didn’t care much for the cold, he’d been fighting and running most of the night and it was warm and cozy inside.
“They killed Lucy.” Swan whispered and snuggled in closer to Zero, giving them room to lay down.
She was drained, completely exhausted from the fight, the long run and the heartache.
“Close the door.” she mumbled and drifted back to sleep.
He obliged, piling the snow back up to block out the cold and spread his cloak over them. He was worn out too and within minutes they were all sound asleep.
48
Diablo
Less than a mile from the tree where Swan sheltered, Diablo lay beneath an overturned boat near an empty cabin on the riverbank. His long tongue licked gingerly at the wound in his shoulder where the wolf had torn the skin and underlying muscle. It throbbed incessantly, eliciting a whine from the savage creature. His body was covered in bites and claw marks from the she-wolf’s vicious attack. He�
��d never encountered another creature that was so fast and powerful and fearless. Even wounded with both of them tearing into her, she had punished him with fangs and claws. The cold and the snow perplexed the beast. It was arid, dry and hot in the warmer climes of the southwest where’d they’d been raised.
His clan mate was gone. He felt the loss and emptiness; they were social animals and rarely wandered by themselves.
He kept his senses alert. He was alone now and aware how other predators perceived a wounded animal. They would smell the blood and smell weakness. They would think he was easy prey. They would find out different. Diablo was a predator never seen in this part of the world and even wounded he was a match for anything that roamed the wilds.
Thirstily, he lapped mouthfuls of snow, seeking to parch his dried throat and rumbling belly. He’d have to hunt soon, the few bites he’d had of the wolf weren’t enough. He’d tired of carrying her mile after mile but the ones following him wouldn’t let him stop and eat. They kept coming. Even after they dropped her, they chased him for more miles before they finally stopped. After he could no longer sense them, he traveled farther. They were a danger; they had killed his clan mate and they were hunting him.
He crawled from under the shelter of the boat and instinctively sought higher ground to increase the chance of scenting some prey. The rotted ones on two legs were easy pickings, yet he didn’t smell any of them on the wind.
The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 27