The North: A Zombie Novel

by Cummings, Sean

  Sid snorted. “Then we could count the freckles on your scalp, squirt. Or maybe play connect the dots with ‘em.”

  Jo threw him a sour look. “I don’t have freckles on my scalp, and even if I did they’d be beauty marks, right, David?”

  I took a swig on a cup of instant coffee and then sliced open my ration pack. Naturally it was the one containing the dreaded ham omelet. “I’m not taking a position on the matter of freckly scalps, Jo. I like your hair the way it is. But then it’s not me that has to brush the knots out every day.”

  The radio squawked in my earpiece. “Ark One, we’re finishing our rations and will be going to ground shortly. Radio checks every hour, on the hour?”

  “Roger that – We’ll be going lights-out in about twenty minutes. Doug will be doing the first night sentry followed by Kate, me and then Sid. I’ll have a route established for first light and will radio it to you during my sentry shift. Over.”

  “Ark Two, roger over,” the radio hissed.

  “Hull drains to dump out the … well, you know?” asked Sid.

  I grimaced. Everyone would have to go to the bathroom at some point and I’d already relieved myself in an empty bottle. It was easy for a guy to urinate, but not so easy for a girl and while Jo could hide behind a poncho liner to do her business, I felt sorry for Kate. I didn’t bother asking her how she’d been going all day, – she wasn’t exactly pleased when Sid whipped it out and pissed off the side of the carrier two hours earlier. Also, nature would eventually call for all of us to defecate, and we sure as hell weren’t going to do it inside of the APC, for obvious reasons. Back at the armory we had folding toilets that resembled a small stool; you’d simply tie a blue bag underneath the seat and do your business. The bag would then go into an oil drum in the middle of the parking compound and we burned our waste every day. We still had a folding toilet on board, but really, we’d just have to exit the carrier and squat over a log, just like infantry soldiers had been doing for thousands of years. Only in this case, the person going would have someone providing security because it has long been every soldier’s worst nightmare to get killed while taking a dump.

  “Yep … hull drains it is,” I said. “Pour out your waste and everyone washes up during their shifts tonight. One bottle of water each, got it?”

  The team all nodded in unison as I turned my attention to Jo. “And you, baby sister. You get to wash up before you go to sleep – you can use the leftover water in the cooking pot. And I want you to brush your teeth.”

  Jo nodded as she scooped a mouthful of ravioli into her mouth. Dawson tore open her pouch of chilli with her teeth and then dumped a handful of ground up soda crackers inside.

  “How far did we make it today?” she asked, as she stirred the contents with her spoon.

  “About fifty kilometers,” I said. “Maybe we can do fifty tomorrow … who knows?”

  Sid scraped the inside of his pouch of corn beef hash with his hunting knife. “Scrounging tomorrow, right?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Possibly. It’ll depend on what’s out there.”

  “It’d be nice if we could all be together at night,” said Dawson. ”Everyone from both carriers.”

  “What do you want everyone to be crammed in for?” said Sid as he crumpled up his foil bag. “This is the problem with having chicks in combat roles – always wanting to freaking socialize.”

  Dawson flashed a fiery glare his way as she edged forward on the jump seat. “You know what, Sid?”

  “What?”

  “Get bent,” she said angrily. “That’s what.”

  Sensing a possible scrap, Jo dropped her foil pouch of ravioli and scrambled over Kate’s lap, standing in the center of the carrier to separate the pair. She threw an accusing glare at Sid and said, “I’m a girl and I’ve shot a creep, Sid. You were there … you told me I was a good shot and a good soldier. Well … I’m eight and Kate is fifteen. She’s twice as good as any boy.”

  Sid snorted and poked at his ration pack in an attempt to avoid Jo’s gaze. “Yeah, kid … you’re a good soldier. I’m just old fashioned is all.”

  “You’re a knuckle dragger,” Kate griped as she leaned back against the wall of the carrier and relaxed a little.

  I swallowed a mouthful of ham omelet, doing my best not to gag. Jo climbed over my lap as I gave her a hug and whispered in her ear. “Good, job on that. You put Sid in his place.”

  She hugged me back and said, “I know.”

  Doug Manybears spun around in his driver’s seat to face us. “Kate’s right – it would be good to be together even if it’s not as tactically sound as Sid would like.”

  “Once we run out of fuel we’ll have to abandon one carrier, and siphon all the fuel from either Ark One or Ark Two,” I replied. “Then we’ll all be piled into a single vehicle. If anything, it’ll be crammed tight.”

  “And that could be tomorrow for all we know,” Sid grunted. “Still … I mean we might find an abandoned car or truck or even a minivan or something. There’s no shortage of them.”

  Dawson crumpled her now empty pouch of chilli and tossed it in a garbage bag we’d taped to the turret cage. “I’m going to crash, seeing as how I’ll be up again before midnight. Two-hour sentry shifts, everyone. Nobody falls asleep during your turn or you’ll have my boot in your ass, got it?”

  “I believe you’d do it, too, Kate.” I tossed my pouch in the trash. “At first light we’ll do a check on fluid levels, and I want the tire pressures checked, too, Doug. In the meantime, everyone should catch a bit of kip while they have the chance. We’re safe in here from the creeps, but we’re still exposed, so whoever is on sentry tonight, don’t second guess if you see anything moving out there. We’ll go to a full stand-to if there’s even the smallest of threats.”

  Sid nodded. “Light and noise discipline – just like back at the armory.”

  Jo handed me her empty foil bag and then wiped the tomato sauce off her face with a rag. “I can go on sentry, too,” she said with a hint of eagerness in her voice. “I want to help out more. I can do it.”

  I felt a twinge of pride in the middle of my chest. Jo had been punching above her weight for months now and she never once complained about it.

  Kate smiled warmly. “You’re already a huge help, Jo. You’re taking care of everyone with water and ammo, not to mention the fact that you don’t take up anywhere near as much room as Sid. And you don’t smell as bad, either.”

  As if on cue, the giant Newfie lifted his left leg and let out a loud, vile-sounding fart. “Is there a duck in here or something? I could have sworn I just heard a duck!”

  “Gross!” Dawson groaned, as she pulled her combat sweater over her nose. “That is so frigging gross.”

  Not to be left out, Jo lifted her leg and let one go as well. “It must be contagious!” she giggled.

  I shut off the combat lights and cracked open the firing port beside me. “Whoever said farting was good for morale never spent a day inside an APC with a Newfie. Sid, there is something seriously rotting inside your bowels, dude.”

  Doug struck a match and then quickly blew it out. “I don’t know if this works or not, but at least it’ll take the edge off of whatever the hell crawled up Toomey’s butt. Listen, we’ve all eaten so maybe you can all hit the pit. I want to begin my shift – the sooner I’m done the sooner I can get some sleep.”

  “Consider it done,” Sid said with a yawn. “Toss me my poncho liner and I’ll just zone out right here and now. Oh, and sorry about the fartage, but I’ve been holding that bugger in all day.”

  “You can fart to your heart’s content tomorrow, Sid. We’ll be driving hatches up now that we’re out of the city.”

  Dawson fanned the air in front of her face with her right hand. “That doesn’t mean we all expose ourselves – there might be a sniper out there or something. Still, the fresh air will be a blessing.”

  “Good point, Kate,” I said, tossing out poncho liners from a storage shelf. �
�Okay, troops. Let’s get some sleep. First light will be here quicker than you think.”

  ***

  I no longer call them nightmares. It used to be that falling asleep meant a blessed reprieve from the day’s troubles, but not anymore. Rest was something I now met with displeasure, like an unpleasant task that had to be carried out every single day. Before Day Zero, I’d dream mostly about sex. Afterward, though, my dreams were filled with the living dead.

  My dreams follow a pattern, and they almost always deal with my inability to protect Jo. The first night out from the safety of the armory was no different. I dreamt about physics class at school. I was the only student in attendance – I’m usually alone when the bad dreams hit. Mr. Eldridge, our gangly, six-foot-four science nerd teacher, had his back to me. He was scribbling something about the speed of light on the white board; only the board was filled with crimson-colored handprints and splashes of blood that dripped down off the shining surface and onto the floor. He spun around quickly, his film-covered eyes staring straight through me, and his jaw dropped open like it was on a hinge, revealing a set of yellow teeth hidden neatly behind thin black lips. The skin on his face was covered with festering sores.

  “You’ll do well when you join us, David,” he croaked. His voice sounded like his throat was filled with liquid. “And you will join us. You and your sister … it’s only a matter of time.”

  I bolted upright, hitting my head good and hard on the turret cage. I was bathed in sweat as I gulped for air. Kate dropped down from her seat in the turret with a worried look on her face.

  “Jesus, Dave,” she choked. “You freaking scared the shit out of me. Oh, God … you’re bleeding.”

  I felt a tiny dribble of blood rolling down the middle of my forehead as I tried to get my bearings.

  “Frigging shock dreams,” I said as Dawson handed me a clean rag. “Thanks.”

  “I get them too,” she said grimly. “We all do.”

  “What time is it?”

  Dawson glanced at her watch. “About one thirty – you still have forty-five minutes until your shift.”

  I shook my head as I pushed myself upright. “No point in trying to rack out now. Christ, my head hurts … anything happening out there?”

  “If you mean the coyote I spotted half an hour ago, then yes. Outside of that, it’s pretty quiet, thankfully.”

  “Radio checks coming in from Ark Two every hour?”

  She nodded. “Yes … it’s all good. Cruze has everything under control over there. I’ve been using the other radio to see if I could pick up any other military broadcasts. Doubtful, but I thought I’d give it a try anyway.”

  I dabbed at my forehead with the rag. “Anything?”

  She shrugged hard. “Kind of. I’ve been getting sporadic words here and there through the static – might be Sanctuary Base, might not. I’ve been piecing them together and I think they’re getting hammered with a snowstorm or something.”

  “Better them than us.”

  “Want to have a listen?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, maneuvering myself away from the turret cage. Dawson climbed down into the crew commander’s compartment as I slid into the cage and slipped on the headset.

  I listened carefully, but all I could hear was the faint hiss of the static, so I fiddled with the squelch knob on the radio. I was just about to turn up the volume when I saw a flash of movement through the turret viewing port. I flipped on the infra-red camera inside my periscope and peered inside. The ground, the trees, the low ground; everything was bathed in eerie green light as I scanned the area surrounding us for any signs of life.

  Or unlife.

  Stumbling through a thicket of diamond willow about thirty meters in front of our carrier was a group of creeps, about twenty of them. They tripped and shuffled through the undergrowth, their hideous faces staring hard at both our carriers.

  “Shit.” I whispered. “Creeps.”

  Dawson scrambled underneath the turret cage and poked her head up. “How many?”

  “A couple of dozen.”

  “They from that group we blew past yesterday?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it – they’re too far back. These ones are locals.”

  The radio hissed in my ears. “Ark Two – you seeing that?” It was Melanie Dixon, with an edge of panic to her voice.

  “Ark One, Roger. Stand by.” I replied.

  “Two dozen isn’t a lot of them,” said Dawson. “We could pick them off one by one.”

  I shook my head. What concerned me was where this group had come from – and, more importantly, were there any more of them out there? It would be easy enough to stand up in the turret and fire off individual shots; but there was still the issue of noise travelling farther at night, and one thing we’d learned in the six months since Day Zero was that creeps always respond to the sound of gunfire.

  Our two vehicles were miles from any built-up areas. The closest farm was a few kilometers away, and, unless it had been a survivors’ outpost that wound up being overrun, there was no way a group that large could have formed. I pulled my map out of my pocket and shone a red light onto it, running my finger along the contour lines of our ridge and looking for any symbols that would show a likely place for zombies to converge.

  I tried not to panic, in spite of the fact that the creeps were no fewer than twenty meters away from the carrier. I gazed at the high feature I’d picked and the one Cruze had suggested earlier. I’d read the map wrong, our carriers had gone to ground about five miles away from the city of Airdrie, and that meant creeps. Thousands and thousands of creeps.

  13

  “Get Cruze on the radio,” I said into my mouthpiece.

  “Roger that,” replied Melanie.

  I handed my map to Dawson and pointed to our position. “We’re less than five clicks from Airdrie. We’ve gotta bug out now.”

  All the color drained from her face as she stared at the map, and I could have sworn I saw her gulp.

  The radio squawked in my headset. “Cruze here … what’s going on?”

  I pressed the PTT button. “Creeps. At least two dozen and probably a shit pile more. You were right, Cruze. I should have picked another spot.”

  “Stand by,” Cruze replied as I peered out through my periscope. I could see about two hundred meters into the distance and I spotted another throng of creeps heading up through a dried ravine.

  The radio hissed again. “Well we’re in the shit now so it doesn’t matter who was right or wrong. We can take down these creeps, no problem, Dave.”

  I shook my head. “The sound of our gunfire will bring every monster within earshot, Cruze, we can’t stay here. Get your people up, make sure the hatches are locked tight – we’re leaving in five minutes.”

  “Roger that,” said Cruze.

  “Wake up Sid and Doug,” I said to Dawson. “We’re getting the hell out of here. There’s another few dozen coming up through a dried-out ravine.”

  “Will do,” said Kate. She shook the pair. They were snoring loudly, almost in unison. “Stand to! Stand to! Stand to!”

  Sid scrambled for his carbine, elbowing Doug Manybears in the left cheek. “Wha – what?” he said dreamily.

  Doug pushed himself upright and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Is it my shift again … no wait, I already did a sentry.”

  “We’ve got company. Check the hatches, get your shit in gear and get this carrier going,” Dawson said firmly. “We’re leaving in five.”

  “What’s going on?” Doug yawned.

  I climbed down from the turret. “Creeps. A couple of dozen bearing down on us from Airdrie.”

  Sid slipped his left foot into his combat boot. “Airdrie? We might as well have the words free food painted on the sides of the carriers!”

  “Yeah, well, I did a shitty three point resection when I picked this spot,” I said angrily. “Cruze called it right and I should have freaking listened.”

  “Fuck me, I gotta ta
ke a dump,” Sid grumbled as he climbed into the turret. “Let’s get clear of here – my piss bottle is full and I don’t have another one. I was looking forward to a nice peaceful crap at first light. This blows on an epic scale!”

  Doug Manybears scrambled into the driver’s hatch as I checked on Jo. She was huddled in the rear corner of the APC, sound asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake her up, so I tucked her poncho liner around her shoulders and then crawled over to the crew commander’s hatch. I cursed under my breath at my bonehead move. I probably should have cut myself some slack, given that the only map and compass work I’d ever done was a few patrols on exercise in Wainwright or Suffield, but I wasn’t about to allow myself that luxury. It didn’t matter that I had less than a year of service under my belt, or that I might have been the most organized person in Sergeant Green’s section; we were miles away from safety, a throng of creeps was bearing down on us fast and if I was responsible for getting us into this situation, it was up to me to get us out of it.

  I peered through my crew commander’s periscope while Doug primed the engine. The creeps were less than ten meters away and I could easily make out their gaping mouths in spite of the darkness. I grabbed my headset and slipped it over my head, then flipped on my radio set. A blast of white noise shot through my ears as I slammed my left hand on the volume knob to turn it down.

  “Ark one, you there?” said Cruze through a haze of static.

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’re just warming up and can leave in two. I’d offer to plot a new course but I can’t leave the carrier to do it.”

  Cruze should have been placed in charge of our escape and her last statement simply proved the fact that our team should have chosen her.

  The presence of metal can screw up a compass big time. I was hatches down in our APC when I did the resection and any infantry soldier worth his salt would have stepped onto the ground and walked a few feet away from ten thousand pounds of steel and iron. It was an amateur mistake that could wind up costing our team dearly. I couldn’t shoot a bearing this time, so I followed the contour lines on the map from our existing position and spotted the dried-out ravine where I’d seen that second group of creeps. It headed northwest of Airdrie and according to the map, it looked relatively free of obstacles, so I ran my finger up to a point that looked about five kilometers from our existing position and made a note of the easting and northing for a good spot to rendezvous with Cruze.