He watched Otis soaking up the rays of the warm spring sunshine. The big bear was on his back, rolling side to side. He had a little gray in his muzzle hairs and along the thick fur of his back, but he was still an impressive beast to behold. He let out a satisfied moan and flopped to one side as he found the relief he’d been seeking. He basked in the warm sun and was soon filling the air with his rumbling snores. Kodiak smiled as he watched his friend, his namesake. He was the faithful companion that never faltered, never judged and was never disappointed if Kodiak made the wrong decision. Scratch his ears, bring him a can of Spam, keep the fire blazing and Otis was content.
He turned his attention back to the garden. It had a calming effect on him he didn’t quite understand. Many of the plants that now stood tall and proud had been loose seeds scooped up from the floor of the feed store after the mice and bugs had their turns at the bags. They just swept everything up from the deserted store into sacks and planted them. They spent hours poring over the pictures in the books trying to identify each one and some were a mystery when they went in the ground. Every seed was precious, their future depended on them. As he leaned on the hoe and gazed over the gardens, he was pleased at the turnout from their first efforts. None of them had experience growing food. All of their knowledge came from the electronic books and files that Murray had downloaded before the power went out for good. The soil was rich and fertile, perfect for farming and the huge compost pile of animal waste gave them an ample supply of fertilizer.
Kodiak was hopeful as he looked at the rows of corn, beans, tomatoes, squash and other plants he had no idea of what they were. They’d just have to wait until they produced something to know. He was pretty sure there were some pumpkins mixed in there somewhere. The triplets were already making plans for the jack-o-lanterns they would carve for Halloween. Tobias and Analise couldn’t wait to try their hands at pumpkin pie. Kodiak had no interest in Halloween and he didn’t like pumpkin pie, but he made sure he didn’t say anything that would dampen their enthusiasm. The scariest monsters in the world hung out around the main gate moaning and keening. Or they rode ATV’s and struck without warning, he thought bitterly as Gordon invaded his thoughts.
Donny, Tobias and he had spent weeks digging an irrigation canal from the Mississippi to their garden. They fashioned pieces of old pallets to make flood gates so they could control the flow coming from the long shallow ditch. It was all trial and error on their part. More error than anything, but progress was progress and the tribe was all smiles when the first juicy watermelon was sliced and shared amongst them.
Murray was wheeling about in his wheelchair energetically, enjoying the warm day. They’d all suffered from cabin fever when the snow was piled to the windowpanes, but Murray had it the worst. Even the mildest of winter days restricted him no further than the front porch while he watched the others engage in snowball fights or build snow forts. They tried to include him in the fun though. In their tribe everyone mattered. The triplets had hauled buckets of snow for him to make snowballs with and didn’t try too hard to dodge them whenever he finally shook off the winter funk and joined in.
Murray had finished checking feed levels in the barn. A lot of the hay had been devoured throughout the winter and they didn’t have the means to cut or bale more. He made a note to himself to look into how it was done before the advent of tractors and balers. His companions, four capuchin monkeys, jostled for position on his shoulders. Their eyes were always on the alert for a snack or something shiny they could pilfer and squabble over.
He rolled himself onward. He wanted to take a look at the antelope and gazelle Swan and the wolves had corralled. He needed to get a good head count of the herd. They’d been turned out to fend for themselves following the outbreak, but it made sense to keep them penned when the grass was lush in the expansive enclosures. The whole tribe was excited about the young fawns. It meant sustainability for the herd. Fresh meat and furs to use for years to come if they managed them properly. He hadn’t been too worried about the antelope over the winter. They ran wild across the Midwest and could take care of themselves, but he was curious about how the gazelle had fared. As he gazed over the herd and took a count, he was pleased at their numbers and their overall health. He jotted a few more notes and rolled toward the house. The monkeys could use a treat and so could he.
Bert plodded along lazily, Harper high atop his back. He had been difficult through the winter but he was back to his normal grumpy self, happily foraging the treetops and releasing thunderous farts. He was getting better about being ridden although he was still skittish around loud noises. She eyed the fences for damage or weakness that could leave them vulnerable. The big giraffe was scanning the leaves, picking the most tender shoots of the new growth that burst forth from the trees and she let him have his head as long as he kept moving in the right direction. He had gotten used to her weight and seemed to like it when she patted and rubbed his long neck. As they came over the rise, almost back to the barns, she watched Kodiak as he looked out over their fields. They had shared a few kisses months ago on the riverbank and some long looks, but he’d been distant since the fight with Gordon and his gang. They still cuddled by the fire and he held her hand when they went for walks with Bert and Otis, so she knew he still cared for her. There was something holding him back. It almost seemed like he was so afraid of losing what he had, that he wasn’t enjoying it while he had it. She would remedy that though. She had a basket of strawberries, a blanket and a few cans of Mountain Dew, his favorite, stashed away for a riverbank picnic as soon as the work slowed down.
Vanessa sat astride Ziggy, her North African Ostrich companion. The pair were engaged in a game of tag with the three smaller children. Ziggy whirled and darted, always out of reach of the kids outstretched arms. Landon, Caleb and Clara fell in tangled piles of skinny limbs as Ziggy constantly outmaneuvered them. They laughed and continued the chase while the foxes darted in and out between them, eager to be included in the fun. All of them enjoyed the warm spring day and giggles filled the air.
There were still chores to be done. Eggs to gather, animals to feed, cows to milk, wood to cut and weeds to pull but it was a perfect day for goofing off. Sometimes they needed to be kids for a while. Kodiak kept silent and let them play. Even the serious twins, Tobias and Analise, were down at the river swimming with their polar bears. Quiet laughter could be heard across Piedmont and he wished he felt that carefree. He plucked a ripe tomato from the vine and bit into it. Sticky juice ran down his chin as he savored the taste. He’d never cared much for vegetables, even though his mom made sure he always had some on his plate. This, though, was different. This was his tomato. He’d toiled for it. He’d watched it grow from a tiny shoot poking its head out of the ground to a fine vine. He’d watered it and kept the weeds from overwhelming it, protected it from scavengers and had carefully made the cages that supported it. He’d helped nothing become something. He couldn’t remember anything that had ever tasted finer.
He watched as Tobias and Analise walked up from the river trail. Popsicle and Daisy were laden down with baskets and his stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh fish. The long winter of eating canned food and tiny portions of meat was a memory he was eager to forget. The twins laughed at a joke that only they shared. Even from a distance, their tattoos stood out in sharp contrast to their pale skin and white hair.
Donny and Yewan hadn’t made an appearance yet, but the fresh tenderloins that were waiting in the cooling chest told everyone their hunt had been successful. Kodiak figured they were tucked in one of their favorite spots sleeping after a long night of stalking game.
No one was sure where Swan was. She’d left with just a grunt and we’re going outside the fence when she and Zero took off the morning before with the wolf cubs. Swan had been spending a lot of time with the three rapidly growing wolves, teaching them the ways of the hunt and to follow her commands. Zero was quick with nips and growls to ensure they stayed in line and integrated
into the pack mentality. He was Alpha and would brook no dissent from the cubs. She’d taken to wandering further and further from the normal hunting ground. She used the excuse that she didn’t want to overhunt the home grounds but everyone knew that was nonsense. Donny and Yewan brought in a steady supply of venison for the stewpot and the smokehouse and he said the wildlife numbers were exploding. There weren’t thousands of hunters stalking the woods culling their numbers. In addition, rabbits and squirrels were everywhere, stealing fruits and vegetables from the garden whenever they could. The small number of animals that the tribe harvested to feed themselves was no threat to the population. Kodiak suspected that she was increasing her range for two reasons. The first being the hyena. She wanted to kill him and extract revenge for the loss of Lucy. They’d seen nothing of the beast since that night when Diablo and his brother, Demonio, had killed her. No tracks and no weird laughing bark carried on the wind. Maybe the winter had gotten him or he’d died of his wounds. That would be best, but Kodiak had a nagging suspicion that Diablo was still out there somewhere.
The other reason was Gordon. She blamed Gordon as much as she blamed Diablo for the death of Lucy, maybe more. It had been his thwarted effort to attack the tribe that had brought the hyenas back inside the fences. They still had no idea where Gordon’s compound was located. Only the clues from his boasting and the fact they always rode in from somewhere up north. There’d been no sighting of him or his gang since the night of the battle. The scattered bones of the fallen riders and wreckage of the snowmobiles by the ruined church were the only indications that anyone besides the tribe had ever been there. Kodiak was concerned that she would find them eventually, take them on by herself and end up dead. Or worse. They were cruel and heartless. They’d beaten him for no reason other than they could. It wasn’t a schoolyard fight, they had left scars and would have killed him as casually as they killed zombies. He shuddered at what they would do to the pretty girl if they got their hands on her.
She had been different since the battle, short tempered and moody. She trained constantly, snow, rain or blizzard. Cooped up all winter, she had gotten on all of their nerves with the incessant thunk, thunk, thunk as she threw her tomahawks at wooden targets. She didn’t smile or laugh very much. She rarely removed her war paint or armor, even in the safety of the house and she was never unarmed. She braved the winter winds and the snow, the spring rains and the midday sun to work with her tomahawks and practice with the bow. She was driven, she was ready to fight under any conditions, any circumstances, at any time. If she read anything from the house library, it was stories of soldiers and battles.
2
Swan
Swan chased the wolves as they darted through the trees. Her long legs and runners’ body let her keep pace for mile after mile. Her chest was getting bigger and it annoyed her. A year ago, she would have been proud, maybe even helped the pushup bra with a little extra padding, but now they were a nuisance. She had to wear her armor tight or wrap her chest when she hunted. She ducked under a low hanging limb, swerved around moss covered rocks, leapt gracefully and dodged the obstacles in her path. She never let her eyes lose track of the pack. She couldn’t match their speed, but she was fast and cunning, always looking for the easiest path. If they did lose her, a few yips from her upturned face and Zero would answer. He might outdistance her but he would never leave her behind.
She caught a flash of white from the deer’s tail as it darted up a rise. The young doe ran flat out in a desperate bid to escape the pack. River, Valley and Meadow flanked Zero, their alpha and father, as they spread out wide in a semicircle pattern, narrowing the does chance for escape. Any change in direction by the deer would put one of the pack on an intercept course. Swan leapt over a rotted log, swift and sure footed, the bow in her hands. She could nock an arrow, draw, aim and release the instant the opportunity presented itself. She altered her course slightly to hit the less elevated side of the hill, anticipating the deer to veer to the right once it crested. Her pack ran silent like her, no tinkling collars, no metal on metal rattles, just padded feet and even breathing. The doe seemed to favor right turns from the moment the chase began. She was being corralled; the pack was driving her towards Swans deadly arrow.
She topped the lower portion of the rise, heard the crashing of brush and drew back the bow string. Instead of the deer she was expecting, a zombie burst through the brush and started keening in hunger. It moved fast, day one zombie fast. It had been indoors until recently, it wasn’t broken down and worn out. It was fresh and vicious and headed straight towards her. She whistled loudly for her pack, set the bow aside and focused on the zombie. The pursuit of the deer was forgotten as her blood raced in anticipation of battle. The hungry creature had once been a young man, but now it was just a vessel for the lethal virus that destroyed the world and a training tool for her pack.
It sprang down the hill for her as she reached for the sheath under her left arm and drew her right-hand tomahawk. She waited until the monster was two steps away; side stepped and used the curved lower portion of the blade to catch the zombie above the ankle in a sweeping motion. The zombie went down in a crash of limbs, keens and snarls. The creature’s noise sent flocks of birds cawing out of the trees, fleeing for the sky. She heard a bone snap as the zombie slammed to the ground. It showed no signs of pain, no fear and ignored the broken arm hanging at an odd angle.
Zero came bounding down the hill with the snarling cubs close behind and before they could rip the thing to shreds she barked a command.
“Capture!” she said to her wolves.
The zombie staggered to its feet, only to be met with the flying body of one of the young wolves. River tore a chunk of rotted flesh from its shoulder as the zombie hit the ground again. Before it could rise, Meadow was in the fight. The young wolf grabbed the creature by one leg and held on. The monster thrashed as Valley grabbed an arm at the wrist and dug his claws into the soft earth. River rebounded from his leap and grabbed the other arm, pulled it in the opposite direction. Zero padded over quickly and seized the immobilized and spread-eagled zombie by the throat. The wolf waited for Swan to give the command to snap its neck and tear out its rotten throat.
She looked on with pride as the creature thrashed in vain, struggled to break loose from the iron jaws that held it in place. It keened and wailed, gnashed its yellowed teeth so hard that they broke. Every struggling movement caused the wolf cubs to dig in and pull harder to keep it pinned.
She’d been working with the wolves since they were big enough to walk without tripping over their own feet. She taught them to hunt using the pelts from rabbits and squirrels, or the tails from the deer she and Donny killed. She taught them to follow commands, to protect the pack and themselves. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them like she did Lucy. They were her cubs now and she loved them with a mothers love. They were growing fast and were slightly more than half the size of their father already.
The zombie struggled with inhuman strength. The wolves dug their paws into the blanket of rotted leaves to hold it in place. Vicious growls emanated from their throats. Fur bristled along their backs and claws churned up the forest floor as they strained against the unnatural strength of the dead thing in their jaws.
Good. She thought proudly. Too bad that’s not Gordon. She had no intentions of letting Gordon Lowery survive their next meeting. She planned to wipe out him and any of his remaining tribe, no matter what. Kodiak and the others might be comfortable with the unofficial truce, but she wasn’t. Gordon was a plague on mankind. He was worse than the undead because he still had the ability to make choices. The undead couldn’t help what they were.
With the wolves mastering the art of capture, all she needed was just one of Gordon’s guys or girls to find out everything she needed to know. She’d make them tell her where their stronghold was, their total strength and whatever plans for revenge Gordon was cooking up. She wanted to take the fight to him, put him on the offensive for
once. Let him be the one living in fear of where and when a surprise attack would come. He had to be planning something, there was no way would he let the defeat from the previous winter go unanswered. No way would he live and let live. It went against his nature. She’d argued this point to the tribe until she was blue in the face but it didn’t change anything. Everyone acknowledged that he was probably still out there, but until he showed himself, there was nothing they could do.
She spun her tomahawk in her hand, so the spiked side of the blade faced down and buried it in the forehead of the undead man. The brain died instantly, and it ceased its struggles. The cold rotted flesh became still. River jerked at the arm he held, tested to ensure it was no longer a threat. It was unresponsive. He looked to his master but didn’t break his hold until the command was uttered.
“Release.” She told the pack. The wolves let go of the still creature and backed away, kept their eyes and ears attuned for any other threat to their wolf mother. She dropped to her knees and nuzzled each of them, whispered praise and love into their oversized ears. They were her strength, her pack.
They wouldn’t take a game animal today, but she was still satisfied with their results. This was the first capture outside of controlled conditions and the wolves had performed flawlessly. She’d practiced this move with them in the old lion enclosure, despite Kodiak and the others misgivings. She had Donny standing by just in case something went wrong but she used a catchpole and it was pretty simple to drag a deader inside the gates. All of those zombies had been slow and weather worn. The harsh winter had been hard on already decaying bodies and most of her test subjects were barely able to walk with all of their toes frozen off and many of them had been chewed up by the Savage Ones. This zed had been fresh and full of fight but still no match for the pack.
The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 34