by TW Brown
Vix opened the door and took a deep breath. The air was cold, but it smelled wonderful and seemed to fill every bit of her lungs. A few zombies were close enough to take notice and began shambling her way. She didn’t wait and went to meet them. With a few quick flashes, the ground was littered with five corpses that would walk no more.
Looking skyward to get her bearings, Vix turned east. She stared off in the distance at nothing for a few minutes while her mind considered all the possibilities.
“But I thought we were going to fortify our location and—” Gemma spoke in a voice just above a whisper. She couldn’t keep her eyes from darting every direction. It seemed that wherever she looked, she saw more of those things. And it seemed that some of them saw her, too!
“I am not going to be nursemaid or mother for a bunch of ignorant buggers who probably won’t survive to see the coming of spring.” Vix started across the open field, her footsteps making squishy sounds in the saturated ground.
“So where are you going?” Gemma asked scurrying to catch up and match strides with the woman.
“London.”
***
“So all of our people are going to be sent out on patrols?” Selina handed Jody a steaming mug.
“Yep,” Jody nodded and sipped at the hot water. In his mind he imagined it to be a latte from his favorite barista, this little Vietnamese lady who’d run the stand just outside the base in Little Rock.
“But are they ready for that sort of thing?”
“Not at all,” Jody said after a noisy sip that was more steam than liquid. “But that is the point. Casualties won’t matter to the captain as long as they aren’t his men. He and Slider have this whole thing figured out as far as logistics and what they consider optimal loss.”
“What the hell is optimal loss?”
“It is a number of people that they hope to lose in the next few weeks so that our supply issue improves.” Jody leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He was absolutely exhausted.
“You look like warmed over garbage…and don’t smell much better,” Selina said with more concern that disgust.
“They had me in last night for progress reports,” Jody said with a sigh. “I am supposed to select ten percent of the ‘non-viable’ female population.”
“What for?”
“They didn’t say, but I got the feeling that it helps with their optimal loss numbers.”
“But didn’t you say that we were leverage to keep the others in line?”
“Yep, but as the casualties tally up, certain individuals no longer need to be pacified with your safety.”
“So what is going to happen?”
“I think the chosen few that I gave them last night will be sent to a greenhouse complex about ten miles south of here. They will be given instruction and limited supplies and left to fend for themselves.”
“So what if they take off?” Selina opened up the two MREs that Jody had brought. She had insisted on serving everything up on actual plates. Jody couldn’t recall the last time he’d used anything besides foil packs and tin trays.
“Then the losses make up part of their optimal target. And if they stay and accomplish the task, then there will be a chance at a better food supply…next year.”
“That captain is a real bastard.” Selina set the plate in Jody’s lap and took a spot on the couch across from him.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Jody said before shoveling a mouthful of what was supposed to be roast beef in his mouth.
The long wail of the hand-cranked siren broke the silence that had settled as the two ate. Seconds later, the front door burst open. Danny stumbled in and then bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
“Herd!” was the only thing he managed to get out.
Jody jumped to his feet, his plate of half-eaten dinner falling to the floor with a splat. He moved past Danny and stepped out onto the porch. Selina’s house was on the west end of town on a small rise. He had risked a lot sneaking her out of the gym, but he had grown very attached to the tall, strong woman. Together, they had convinced those remaining in the gym that it would be in their best interest to remain quiet about the arrangement if they wanted any chance at survival. He’d had less trouble convincing the captain to approve his requisition to confiscate a local residence in order to have someplace to base his own assigned operation from. Actually, the captain seemed enthusiastic at the prospect that Jody was beginning to fall in line with the program.
From the porch, he could see down the long, grassy slope and past the fields beyond for hundreds of yards. Sure enough, a long line of undead stretched out north and south. He guessed the herd to be at least a half mile wide. As for how long…that was anybody’s guess as is vanished from sight, blocked by a dense woods and a higher bluff. In effect, the undead hoard was wandering down into a valley.
A quick look revealed something to Jody that he wasn’t sure everybody else down in the central base—as well as Bald Knob proper—might be aware of. The valley ran in a bit of a crescent around the region. It would be no small stretch for the herd to eventually surround the entire area if there was sufficient numbers. And from what he was seeing, it looked very likely that there would be more than enough.
“Danny, where’s your pack?” Jody asked over his shoulder.
“Back in my tent,” Danny gasped, almost able to get a full breath finally.
“And what weapons are you carrying?”
“Just my spike and my three-foot brush clearer.”
The ‘spike’ that Danny referred to was a weapon of his own creation. He’d bored a series of three holes in an aluminum bat, and then welded stainless steel tent pegs into place. Jody thought it was an awkward weapon, but Danny loved it when he could pipe up in his baseball announcer’s voice. “And now, stepping into the box for the Red Sox, Danny O’Leary!” Then he would make what he thought was a good impression of a stadium crowd going wild, but to Jody, sounded more like bad static on a cheap AM radio.
“Selina, do you have a bug-out bag here?” Jody brought his field glasses up and scanned the area.
“Umm…”
“Get it,” Jody barked. He didn’t have time for her to decide if she could trust him or if this was part of some elaborate trick.
“What’s the deal, Sarge?” Danny asked. “How bad is it?”
“Look.” Danny handed his glasses to the man and continued to observe the scene with his naked eye.
“None of our perimeter fences can withstand that,” Danny breathed.
“Anybody who doesn’t run for it will be swept under,” Jody said.
“I don’t think the tower sentry can see as well as we can,” Danny said as he handed the glasses back.
“Which means that the captain will issue a standard defensive order.”
“Everybody in camp will retreat to the municipal building,” Danny added.
“And the citizens will be left out in the open,” Jody continued. “Only, there is no way that they can make any sort of real stand in that building. In fact, I don’t think the first floor barricades will last an hour. They will be compromised with no hope for escape.”
“We need to warn them.” Danny took a few steps forward, but Jody stayed put. He was halfway down the cement walkway before he turned back to Jody with a questioning look on his face.
“I’m not going,” Jody said with a shake of his head.
“You want to split up and head to the school?” Danny asked.
“I’m not going there either,” Jody said.
“Am I missing something?” Danny glanced over his shoulder like he half-expected the massive mob of undead to be at the end of the driveway.
“You might make it in…but I doubt you will make it out.” Jody came down off the porch and approached his friend. “And as for the school, most of them are so weak, they won’t make it more than an hour before they need to stop.”
“So tell me what you’re saying,�
� Danny challenged. “Are you prepared to just leave all of the guys behind…and the men women and children of Bald Knob that we are sworn to protect and defend.”
“It’s over, Danny,” Jody said with a hitch in his voice. “I don’t like it…but it is over. There is no more Gunslingers, no more United States Army…hell, man, there’s no more United States. There hasn’t been for a long time. All there is now is what is in your boots. You have to take care of you…and leave the rest for God.”
“But you were going to stand up to the captain…you were gonna stand up to Slider—”
“Who were we kidding?” Jody snapped. “Slider is a trained killer…the captain hitched his wagon to the only man he thought would keep him alive. They knew the score, they just went about it in a way that you and I wouldn’t. They didn’t care what they did to survive. If you don’t think Slider knows every move we could possibly make beforehand, then you took too many fastballs to the head.”
“But—” Danny sputtered, but he couldn’t find an argument that didn’t have a million holes in it.
“I’m going north…Canada maybe,” Jody said. “Maybe if we go far enough north, we’ll either run out of people, or it will just be so damn cold that those things will be frozen solid.”
“You bringing Selina?” Jody whispered.
“If she wants to come,” Jody replied with a shrug.
“If I come…can I make a request?”
“Sure.”
“If, for some strange reason, we end up near New York—”
“I said away from people,” Jody snorted.
“Yeah…but you never know…I just want your word that if we are in New York, you’ll let me piss on home plate in Yankee Stadium.”
“Deal.”
***
Charles “Slider” Monterro heard something wailing in the distance. He looked up at the sky and smiled. Pulling his knife out of the temple of the zombie, he let the body fall to the ground.
That one had been sneaky. It was another of those damn kids. For some reason, many—not all, but enough to be noticeable—of the zombies of children between the ages of what he had to guess to be five and ten were displaying some peculiar tendencies. He hadn’t really noticed until he’d overheard a few of the soldiers talking about it around camp. He’d never let one live long enough to observe its behavior.
The past several days, he’d kept his eyes peeled any time he was out in the field. Up until today, he hadn’t seen any kids. He imagined the reason that they were so scarce had to be because there was not enough to come back more often than not when one of the little ones went down.
“People McNuggets,” Slider scoffed.
He glanced down at the one he’d just killed. A boy, maybe eight or nine years old. His left arm was gone and he looked to be wearing what remained of a set of coveralls.
Probably some farmer’s kid, Slider thought as he wiped off his blade.
He continued through the woods, following the tracks of the deer he’d been after since before sunrise. Almost fifteen minutes ago—although it seemed like much longer after having to take down that zombie farm boy—he’d put an arrow in the damn thing. It had jumped just as he let go, which caused him to miss the heart and catch the poor animal in the flank.
Being out like this brought back memories of a mission in the foothills of the Arma Mountains in Afghanistan. He’d been tasked to finish a take down that another sniper had missed. Actually, he hadn’t missed entirely, he’d winged his target. Unfortunately, the Air Force had not been aware that an operative was in the area and a drone had taken out the operative. Slider had moved fast and caught the target in a cave. The man was huddled by a small fire obviously no longer caring about remaining hidden. It was very seldom that a sniper had to look his target in the eyes. Slider had been a little disturbed by how much he’d enjoyed that kill.
After about an hour, he came to a clearing and his quarry. He felt a twinge of sadness at the obvious suffering the animal was experiencing. Small puffs of steam came in rapid bursts from its nostrils.
It took a staggering step away as he emerged through the trees. Slider already had an arrow nocked. He quickly drew back to his cheek and took very careful aim. He wanted to put the deer out of its misery as quickly as possible. He let go, the twang of the bow and the hiss of the arrow were almost loud in the peace of the forest…and a dead world.
Drawing his knife, he crossed to the downed animal. He was pretty sure that his shot had ended the deer, but it never hurt to be careful. More than one hunter had been surprised at the ferocity in which a deer will struggle for its life when mortally wounded.
After all, Slider thought, they are wild animals.
He knelt beside the downed animal and yanked the arrow from the eye socket. After inspecting the projectile and deciding that the cracked shaft meant that it was not reusable, he cast it aside and went to work field-dressing the carcass. This would keep him well fed for a few weeks.
He very seldom actually ate a meal in the mess tent. In fact, the only reason he made an appearance in there at all was to hear what the men were talking about. It was strictly low-level intel gathering tactics, but he was always amazed at how individuals felt that their conversations were confined to the space they sat in.
Once he was done and all the meat was loaded into his pack, he began the trek home—or at least the place he currently called home. He had to really think back to the last place he had stayed at for longer than a few months. The funny thing was, this place had been his home longer than anyplace else in the past fifteen years.
Slider was weaving through some young pines when he smelled something on the wind. Setting his pack down, he quickly adjusted his attitude. He’d been actually feeling pretty good about the day, and for him, feeling truly good about anything was a rarity.
Hunkering down, he duck-walked to the edge of the woods and looked down. What he saw was unsettling. He imagined that some people might think he was some sort of fearless warrior, unmoved by all that had transpired. Quite the opposite.
He’d been visiting an old buddy at the veteran’s hospital when this nightmare had unfolded. He still remembered fighting his way out of there from the eleventh floor. It had apparently started down in the ER with a few victims brought in with assorted bites. He still had nightmares of what he’d witnessed in the pediatrics and maternity floors. Back then, he had shifted into his “Protector” mode. He had left “Slider” behind, and mistakenly believed that that part of him was buried for good.
Within seventy-two hours, he had come to a decision. His only chance at survival was to take care of himself. He couldn’t worry about anybody else. It was simply a sad reality. That night, he walked away from the small group he had been travelling with.
Now, as he looked down into the very slight valley with Bald Knob at its head. The sea of undead would wipe out everything in its path. He was very aware of the contingency plan put in place by the captain. He’d thought at the time that it was short-sighted and foolish. However, that was why he had his own contingency plan.
As he took a seat and watched the herd—he guessed it to number well over a hundred thousand—close in, he heard the first strains of the warning siren down in Bald Knob. From his vantage point, he could actually see the amorphous blob of walking corpses refine its direction and hone in on its target.
He wished that he’d brought his bug-out kit. There was so much gear that he knew he would miss. However, that was the beauty of the new world. Everything he wanted was still out there someplace. He just needed to find it.
He stayed for a while out of curiosity. He wanted to see what would happen. He wished that he had his field glasses. Hell, even a scope from a rifle would be nice. However, he didn’t need either to see and hear the mayhem down in Bald Knob. The leading edge of the zombie mob slammed into the town full force. Slider almost chuckled at the logic that had gone behind the barbed wire fencing that surrounded the area.
He heard the
screams along with the pathetically few echoes of gunfire. They had been dangerously low on ammunition for quite some time. However, it was what he saw to the east of his location that interested him the most. Three lone figures, each carrying what looked like fairly large and full backpacks, heading away. Of course it was too far away to make a positive identification, but he was willing to bet it was Sergeant Rafe.
12
Emily
As we turned down the almost invisible trail road that would dump us in the campground’s opening in the dense woods, my mind was trying to shake off the numbness. With the exception of Mr. Dean Patton and the little girl—who still glared at me like I’d strangled a puppy in front of her—the rest of the survivors had died the first night.
Misty Dell, the little girl, had kicked and screamed when we’d put the dead bodies outside. Something in her mind was simply not processing that dead meant dead. And why should it? I thought. She’d seen so many supposedly dead people get up that I am sure it was more than a little confusing.
Of course this had brought on a whole new set of internal conflicts for me to resolve. I’d gotten into some heated arguments with Jesus and Jake—and pretty much everybody else for that matter—when it came to Thalia and Emily being exposed to the zombies and the day-to-day situations we faced. I could not imagine the lengths that people had gone to in order to keep little Misty shielded from the horrors of this dead world.
I’d asked Jon why they hadn’t brought this little girl with them on the first trip. I wasn’t too surprised when he revealed that they hadn’t been aware of her existence. The group must’ve had her hidden for some reason or another. Well, we were almost home and I could get to the bottom of that later. When we made the final turn for home, I filed that one away with the million other unanswered questions.
As we drove between the berms, I could see a group out on the porch waiting for our arrival. Honestly, I just wanted to wrap my arms around Melissa and the girls and not let go for a week.