“I honestly don’t know,” he replied after mulling that over. “Not let yourself be locked in like that would be one option. Build settlements that have more exits than one. That can’t be so easily swarmed. Like against a mountain with cave exits leading away. Or a port town where people can flee out into the ocean. People used to be smarter than that. No one would have thought to build a permanent settlement smack in the middle of a plain when we weren’t the apex predators, or thought we were unconquerable on our own turf. As much as I’m usually for making a stand, that’s a warrior’s choice. The people you need to defend can’t do that. I wouldn’t want that kind of responsibility on my shoulders.”
I had to admit, he had a point there. None of us were out for him- or herself alone, but it was easy when my only objectives were not to get killed and to guard each other’s backs.
“So we look down on them for being locked inside their flimsy fences, and they look down on us for roaming free, always on the run?”
Nate nodded. “Looks like it. And since when do you care what people think about you? Admit it. You got a kick out of scaring that idiot at the gate shitless. Which reminds me. Why did you pass up the opportunity to rub my sexual prowess in his face? I never got to smirk at him when he realized that you had more balls than all of them combined.”
I didn’t grace that with an answer. Nate’s soft laughter followed me into the night as I turned around and went the other way. Some things would never change, it seemed—and that was probably not the worst that could happen.
Chapter 4
I didn’t sleep well that night, but when Taylor leaned in to shake me awake for my morning shift I still didn’t want to leave the cozy confines of my sleeping bag. Nate was snoring softly, stretched out in his reclined seat. It was still dark outside, but in the east the sky started to lighten already. Late spring definitely had its perks compared to the endless, long winter nights.
I checked the radio before I left my cocoon. No new alert, but then it was still very early for anyone to be up and about. Clark was up for rotation, greeting me with a nod, but that was it. I didn’t mind. Even less so after my talk with Nate last night. Lots to think about—and I had a certain feeling that whatever we would get up to today, I’d be too tense, expecting zombies to come at me from every direction at once, to relax enough to let my mind wander. I’d never been one for meditating, but guard duty was a great stand-in for that—with the added bonus of actually doing something useful.
The sun rose over the plains, welcoming a new day that looked as if it was about to be as bright and hot as the one before. So far we’d managed to avoid the few storms and tornados that the new season had brought with it—another reason why I was happy to be in a car most of the time. Some things you could simply drive away from. Others, not so much.
People all over the camp started to rise, and I was on the way back to the Rover when Nate hailed me, drawing the attention of the others, too. As I approached, I could already hear Mike’s voice coming over the radio, sleepy after spending the night at the mic.
“Code red for northern Missouri and southern Iowa,” he repeated. “We have confirmed reports that Harristown, Missouri has been surrounded. We’re still waiting to hear from them but their coms seem to have been fried by the storm last week.”
Pia was the first to voice what I figured all of us were thinking. “How do they know if they don’t have radio contact?”
As if to answer her, Mike went on with his report. “Luke’s Chargers have been shadowing the streak for the past week. I’ll let Jason himself tell you what’s going on.” A pause followed, then a somewhat less clear male voice took over when Mike patched him into the main feed.
“Jason Luke here. This is the most fucked-up thing I’ve seen so far. At least this month.” He barked a brief laugh that was deep enough to make me think of him as a tall, buff guy who didn’t take shit from anyone. “We came over from Illinois and stayed east of them all through the Ozarks. Part branched off toward St. Louis but the main horde went north. We followed them, losing track for a day when we had to find a different river crossing. Then we found them again north of Columbia, turning west to northwest. All looked steady again and like they’d head toward Bethany and the interstate, but then part split off, going east again. We thought they’d pass by the dried up river valley going by the settlement, but they didn’t. Fuckers don’t have sentries, but it was as if they’d known there’s plenty of food up there. Sped up. We had to fall back when it got dark, but I sent my men out with first light. They’ve swarmed the entire river valley. Mass is thickest around the town. So far their barricades are holding well, but that’s a shitload of zombies out there. I give them maybe a week, probably closer to three days. And that’s only if the main streak doesn’t join these. It’s impossible to give a headcount, but we think at least fifteen hundred, maybe closer to two-K.”
Andrej whistled through his teeth, but except for that, everyone remained silent as they continued to listen.
Mike took over again. “Thanks, Jason. Make sure you guys don’t do anything stupid and get yourselves killed.”
Jason’s laugh was a loud one. “Sure thing on the second, but if you’ve met us, you know that we always get in trouble, wherever we go.”
Sounded like someone we would get along with. I tried to remember if I’d ever talked to someone on the open com channel Dispatch ran for all of us out there whose name was Jason. Likely not. We’d been quiet most of the time since leaving Aurora, except for bragging after our mall hit.
“And you’re not the only ones around that’s likely true for,” Mike said, agreeing. “To everyone in the general area: run, duck, hide, whatever works for you. Jason’s guys lost sight of the main streak so there’s no telling where they’ll end up next, but we have a report from another group that a smaller horde has ended up in Iowa, about an hour east of New Town. We have no way of telling if it was from the same streak and some of them were much faster than the main horde, or an independent group altogether. But if you’re in west Missouri or Iowa right now, think about retreating to the territories further west.”
Burns gave a brief bark at that. “Think he means us with that?”
Nate glanced at him for a moment but didn’t reply, instead listening to Mike repeating the facts once more. When the bulletin was over, Nate reached for the mic, but left the transponder off that would signal our current position.
“Dispatch, can you open us a line to Jason? Thirteen Alpha, copy.”
A brief pause, then Mike gave us the okay, if with a serious note of hesitation in his voice. “Hope you guys know what you’re doing. You’re live.”
“Thanks, Mike. Jason, you copy?”
“Loud and clear,” came Jason’s confirmation. “You guys in the area?”
“Yeah, we’re the ones who found the smaller group in Iowa,” Nate confirmed. “What was your last intel on the main group? Question is, if we try to reach you, do we go north or south of them.”
Jason gave that some thought. “They weren’t moving more than twenty miles during the day but sometimes managed up to fifty overnight. You’re in Iowa right now?”
“Missouri, about twenty miles south of the border.”
“Go south then,” he advised. “If they’re not north of you yet, they might be passing by you right now. You may have to deal with some stragglers if you cut east too soon, but that’s still better than heading straight into the main horde. How many vehicles do you have? And how are your ammo stores? Because if you’re running low, don’t bother.”
Nate hesitated for a moment, prompting my paranoia to rear its ugly head, but he replied before I could ask him what that was about.
“Five cars. Probably enough ammo to pick apart a substantial part of your estimate of what’s crowding Harristown, but I’d rather not spend it all on a single mission.”
The radio picked up Jason’s whistle. “You folk former military or something? We’re not exactly badly equ
ipped, but we don’t round up that kind of firepower.”
Neither did we, I felt like saying, but it had been a while since I’d done a good inventory of how many boxes of ammo we were lugging around with us—and that was counting on every shot being a kill shot, which not even Nate and Pia could guarantee.
“Something like that,” Nate replied, not without mirth.
“What was your group’s call sign again?” Jason asked.
“Lucky Thirteen.”
A pause, then, “You’re the guys who took care of that scum in Illinois, right?”
Ah, so much for our fame not spreading. As always, when something reminded me of how events had gone down with the cannibals, I felt my bile rise. If Nate still felt any resentment, it didn’t show in his tone. “You bet.”
“Can’t say I’m not glad to have someone like that for backup. Think you can make it over here by tomorrow morning? Depending on how far south you have to go, might be about two hundred miles. Missouri’s not as quiet as it used to be last summer. We’ve had a lot of traffic, and half of the bridges are collapsed from the beginning of tornado season. You think you guys are up for this?”
“Haven’t met anything yet that would deter us,” Nate replied, the hint of bravado in his voice making me frown. What was that about?
Jason gave us their team frequency so we could contact them when we were close enough for direct communication, and a few more instructions about what roads were likely clear, and what stretches to avoid. I tried to remember that, but counted on Nate to let me know where to go once we got there. I might joke about him being dead weight, but he was my navigator for a reason.
As soon as he’d broken the connection, Nate got out of the car, facing the others. Everyone had been listening in so there was no need for an update, and he didn’t call for a vote, either. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but then the grim determination I saw on people’s faces made it obvious that they felt ready for this. Just my luck that I had to throw in my lot with a bunch of trigger-happy lunatics.
“This mission has a high potential for disaster. We’ll decide whether we do this when we have all the information and visual confirmation of how bad it really is,” Nate said after making eye contact with every single one of us. “I’m not going to jeopardize our safety needlessly. If we do this, we have to do this as a unit. Right now, we need to get going. The night has been quiet—too quiet. Wouldn’t surprise me if the main body of the horde was less than five miles east of us now.” So much for me not freaking out, but I forced my muscles to lock in place and continued to listen to him. “We don’t owe anyone in that town anything, but there’s a good chance that they won’t make it without our help. I have no idea how many are in there, but from what we’ve been hearing all year long, it's one of the communities that draws a lot of people here, families in particular. You know what I think of blatant acts of bravery—” He paused to look at me in particular before he went on. “But this might be our chance to make a difference. To show them that we’re not scum out to raid and deliver their mail for them. Fame won’t do us much good in this world, but it might get us a roof over our heads when we need it and food in our mouths when we want it. Now pack up your things. We have work to do.”
I thought about lingering—or asking about breakfast—but the idea that any moment a zombie could stumble into our camp and draw attention to our position shut me up and got me scrambling like the rest of them.
Less than ten minutes later we were on the road, heading south, the sun just topping the low, rolling Missouri hills to the east.
Chapter 5
How do you sneak driving a car? The simple answer is, you don’t. But driving at a slow crawl of about five miles per hour, trying to stay on soft ground like grass, or a gravel-free road, can almost accomplish the trick. At least when you’re shadowing a sheer endless stream of zombies that make enough noise to drown out the occasional crunch or squeal. Mechanical noises they tended to ignore. Mostly.
Nate’s estimate hadn’t been that far off. It only took us about twenty minutes to top a small rise and come face to face with the mass of zombies—thankfully still at a distance. I stepped on the brakes immediately, my pulse jumping into uncomfortably elevated territory, but except for a few heads turning, they didn’t react. “They” were a good few hundred zombies, shambling along the highway about half a mile away from where we’d come to a halt. They were moving slowly, almost sluggishly, but their numbers made them menacing enough. From what I could see, most looked the worse for wear—limbs torn off, clothes in stark disrepair—but I didn’t doubt that should they make out something edible, their slow progress would surge into a vicious attack. With so many around, they didn’t need to be skilled to hunt—a few quick ones would suffice to bring down the animal, and the rest was history. I tried to gauge whether the ones we’d come across in Iowa had looked about the same, but really couldn’t say so at a distance.
They were moving more or less as a mass, but the odd outlier was dragging itself along next to the road, or even in the fields bordering it. It was some of those that noticed us, but our approach must have been stealthy enough not to brand us as a target. I still hated halting there like a sitting duck. Nate studied the horde for a few minutes, then gave me the silent signal to turn back around and find another road leading south. The other cars followed at a crawl, only halting for a moment in their turns to study what was going on across the plain.
Half an hour later we had to do another detour, and twice more before we noticed that the streak was definitively thinning out. Where hundreds had been before, it was only a few handfuls now, ever moving northwest. With fewer bodies moving, the destruction they left behind became more evident—churned earth where grass used to grow, asphalt torn apart where the winter had left it cracked. And the stench. The stench was enormous, even inside the car with the air circulation shut off. It was that cloying scent of decay, heavy enough to make me want to puke up my impromptu breakfast on the road. I was wise enough not to, because opening the door would have made it ten times worse.
Even with fewer zombies on the move here, we still went further south before we chanced crossing the path of destruction they’d left. I really didn’t care for how close to St. Joseph and Kansas City that put us, but immediate danger went before presumed threats. As soon as Nate gave me the go, I took the next east-bound access road, heading into less populated land again. It still took us another twenty minutes to be outside of the red marks on our maps, designating a population center. That we barely saw a zombie anywhere didn’t ease my mind much. The sun was beating down on us, making any sensible being seek shade—us the exception. Yesterday had proven all too well that they had started adapting to that, too. If they were still around and hadn’t joined the streak, that was.
We passed a few completely destroyed houses, splintered wood everywhere. Erosion hadn’t had much chance to take hold yet so I presumed the damage was recent, likely from one of the last winter storms or a tornado. If not for the zombies, we might have looked through what was left—tools and pots usually survived even the harshest conditions—but today we kept driving on.
Just after noon we hit another path of devastation, this one looking slightly less sprawling than the first. There were no moving zombies anywhere in sight, but the odd lump on the road had remained behind, reduced to nothing more than some dirty fabric and cracked bones. I wondered if they’d waited until their undead comrade had stopped moving, or started tearing it apart before that happened. Either way, not the most comforting thought. With their trail mix practically shambling alongside them, the stronger zombies in these groups could easily go on forever. They might have preferred fresh meat, but if none was available, they’d found an alternative. Not a very comforting idea, that.
We went on further east before Nate told me to turn into one of the north-bound roads. We topped another rise, and suddenly, there was a group of about twenty zombies in front of us. I braked, but they had seen
us, and they definitely liked what they saw. Within moments, they were all coming at us, howling and screaming.
Wrapping my fingers more firmly around the steering wheel, I exhaled forcefully to help myself focus, and sent the car forward. Right before the first zombie could jump on the hood, I forced the car into a sharp turn, making the zombie slam into the rear armor plates—right where I’d hit the cow. Unlike yesterday, the Rover drifted right on, slamming against two more of the undead, crushing bones and dropping the zombies to the ground. The squeal of tires to my right and left made me guess that the following two cars had conducted similar maneuvers. Throwing the car in reverse as soon as it lost its momentum, I backed right over the downed zombies, the resulting bumps most satisfying. That didn’t keep two from jumping onto the hood, but I ignored them for now, accelerating backward until I was clear of the crowd, decimated as it already was. The whine of the motor made me grimace, but it stopped as soon as I switched gears once more—maybe a little too soon, making the gear shift groan—before I let the Rover jump forward again, sending the zombies off the hood. Two more rounds of reversing, and the tires had ground them to so much disgusting gore.
Looking around, I saw no more shamblers standing. The entire action had happened in under five minutes, start to finish. Glancing at Nate, I waited for a thumbs-up at least, but he just pointed at the way northward. Chuffing under my breath, I turned the car back toward the road, and once I had solid ground underneath, floored it. The resulting high-pitched whine until I shifted up made a few more zombies pop up from the bushes, but the last of our cars was long gone by the time they’d made it to the road. Cars did come with some advantages.
“You could have at least said ‘good job,’ you know?” I grumbled, mostly to myself because things like that usually fell on deaf ears.
Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction Page 5