Cruze’s APC pulled up next to mine, and together we surveyed the ground. We were perched atop a small ridge, a dusty breeze blowing through the steel girders of the electrical tower. Cruze kept her eyes fixed on Highway Two. The good news was there weren’t any pileups, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be dangers to face, once we found a suitable spot to cross.
“What do you think?” I asked, as I lowered my binoculars.
“It looks clear enough,” she said as she climbed onto our carrier. “Mind you, we’re up on high ground, so it’s hard to know for sure. How far do you figure we have to go to cross? I’m thinking about five or six clicks anyway.”
“That’s what I figured,” I replied. “There’s probably going to be cattle-fencing on both sides of the highway. We’ll have to cut the wire if we’re going to get both carriers through. I’ll do it.”
Cruze snorted. “I thought the rule was, never volunteer for anything.”
I shrugged as I gazed out through my binoculars. “Someone’s gotta do it. Might as well be me. Listen, about what happened this morning … I fucked up royally.”
She cocked an eyebrow and said, “I know. And everyone else knows, too. You can’t afford another screw-up either. This team is looking to you to get us to Sanctuary Base alive, so at least when it comes to navigating, double check with Dawson or me. I don’t think anyone is going to question you on tactics if we wind up knee-deep in the shit again. You proved yourself as a good tactical leader with the nut jobs that attacked us.”
I nodded and I felt my face begin to flush. At least Cruze was still backing me. It was the only positive aspect of our near miss a few hours earlier.
“I didn’t want to be in charge, Cruze,” I said quietly, deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Christ, why the hell would anyone want to be in charge? I’m a freaking military strategy book worm. I read tactical manuals and military history stuff.”
She shrugged. “You’re the guy who helped Sergeant Green come up with Plan Z in the first place. You were his 2IC – he picked you to back him up.”
“And I picked you to back me up,” I replied.
“Which I am doing to the best of my ability. But for fuck sake, Dave, if you have doubts about our next move, talk to me. Talk to Dawson if you have to. You can’t bear all this shit on your shoulders, got it?”
I heaved a weary sigh and said, “Got it. So we need to cut that wire then.”
“You’ll also need some help to pull back that barbed wire and ground-guide the carriers through. I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thanks, Cruze. For everything.”
“Yep.”
“How’s your fuel?”
Cruze gave me an uneasy look. “We’ve about a quarter of a tank right now. I’ve got four jerry cans left – this pig burns diesel like it’s nobody’s business. How about you?”
I glanced back at the jerry cans strapped to the side of the carrier. “About the same. At this rate, we’ll be hoofing it by this time tomorrow – we’re going to have to do some major-league scrounging. Your people up for that?”
Cruze exhaled heavily and then gulped back a mouthful of water from her water bottle. “Yes and no. I think we’d all like to get out and stretch our legs, but everyone is scared shitless about the chances of another close encounter after nearly getting our asses chewed off this morning.”
“Yeah … we’ll have to provide covering fire from the carriers in case we get into trouble. I’m thinking that we’ll go in with my carrier while you do perimeter security. I’d like you to take Jo with you while we’re out there … can you do that?”
Cruze cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you think Jo should be asked about how she feels? She’s a pretty damned good shot, Dave. It might be good for her to—”
I cut her off. “If our carrier runs into trouble, you’ll be able to scoot the hell out of there – if she stays with us and something happens to me then I can’t be there to protect her. Just do this for me, okay?”
She threw me a sympathetic smile and slipped on a pair of combat gloves. “It’s cool, Dave. I’ll grab some wire cutters out of the tool-bag and fill everyone in on the plan. Ready to move in five minutes?”
“Yeah,” I said, with a note of relief in my voice. “Thanks, Pam – I’ll go break the news to Jo and let my team know about our next move.”
***
Jo didn’t kick up a fuss about moving into Ark Two, but I had to promise to let her act as lookout when we crossed over the highway. Dawson took the news that I’d volunteered our team for scrounging with grudging acceptance. She knew we’d eventually have to get more fuel for the carriers – she just hadn’t counted on our running out of diesel so quickly, but she held me to my promise about finding something for her to read. Sid, on the other hand, was a breath away from doing the happy dance. Of everyone left alive after Day Zero, Sid Toomey was the one person who actually seemed to enjoy fighting the monsters. He’d even fashioned a close quarter combat tool: an aluminum baseball bat with a four-inch spike that he’d welded smack-dab onto the sweet spot. He gave it a name – The Eradicator. I’d seen him take down five creeps in less than ten seconds with that thing, swinging it with the precision of a major-league home run champion. A murderous fire burned in his eyes whenever the opportunity for close-quarter combat arose, and it was as if Sid had a sixth sense for a creep’s next move – he always seemed to know where a monster was hiding or when it was about to lunge at him from the shadows.
Sid was also a natural born scrounger. Every military unit has one. A scrounger is the guy who can get anything for anyone, more often than not, for a price. Before Day Zero, I’d seen him scrounge up everything from fresh rations to a brand new Jeep. If anyone was going to find us diesel, it was Sid.
I was grateful for having him on my team. We all were, even if he drove Kate Dawson nuts nine times out of ten. If I wasn’t a guy and completely oblivious to the way the female mind works, I’d say that Kate was carrying a torch for the big goon – or maybe a book of matches.
Naturally he made a big show of pulling The Eradicator out of his rucksack and Dawson made an equally big show of rolling her eyes. I decided he’d be team leader for the scrounging party. Dawson and I would follow his every command – the fact that Sid Toomey had his bat in his hand made our chances of surviving a run-in with the creeps that much stronger.
I crawled back into my crew commander’s seat and confirmed that Ark Two was ready to go, then tapped Doug Manybears on the head and pointed to our destination. He slipped the carrier into first gear and we coasted down the forward slope of the hill, the engine retarder brake shrieking like a banshee the entire time. Cruze kept her APC no more than a few feet away to my left as I kept an eye out for boulders or anything else that could damage our suspension. The sky grew darker the further east we pushed on, and I felt a few drops of rain tapping against the top of my head. I glanced back at the turret to see Sid puffing away on a cigarette. He threw me a wild-eyed grin and stubbed the butt on the surface of the hull, tossing it as we bounded over the uneven ground. 20 minutes later we were about 100m from Highway Two, our carriers parked on an embankment that dropped a good 15 feet to the shoulder of the roadway.
Every one of us scanned the area for any signs of recent activity. There was an upturned Winnebago about a hundred yards from where we’d intended to cross, and a dozen cars and pickup trucks on both sides of the highway. But all were a safe distance away from where we’d cut through the cattle fence, and the area appeared to pose little threat.
But the abandoned vehicles weren’t what grabbed our attention. The rotting remains of two people lashed to the fencepost a few hundred meters in front of us was what got everyone on edge. I grabbed my binoculars and peered out at the scene. The bodies didn’t show any signs of having fallen victim to the creeps. They’d been bound to the fencepost with yellow vinyl rope. Each was gagged and they looked to have had their throats cut. A home-made plywood sign had been fastened to the barbed wire be
tween the two bodies. The words “Welcome to Eden. Stay the Fuck Out” were emblazoned on the weathered surface in red paint.
“What in the bat shit crazy hell is that?” Sid choked through a haze of static on the intercom.
“A warning,” I said gloomily.
My radio hissed as Cruze’s voice filled my headset. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Roger that,” I answered, unable to take my eyes off the bodies. “We’ve edged up onto someone’s territory, though I don’t see any signs of movement out there.”
“I could skirt up the edge of the highway and see if there’s any other place to cross,” said Cruze.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But that would waste our fuel something awful. We need to conserve every drop.”
“Well, we can’t sit here all day, and we’re going to have to cross at some point. If we go north, we’ll be cutting it painfully close to Red Deer, and there’ll be creeps on the roadway. If we go south, we’re back on the outskirts of Airdrie again and we’ll lose whatever frigging distance we’ve gained.”
“Roger,” I said. “Get your carrier next to mine. We need to plot a course of action and we need to do it fast. It’s just past two in the afternoon and we’ve got a little over four hours of daylight left.”
The radio squawked. “Stand by.”
I peered out over the edge of my carrier to see Cruze’s APC turn hard left. In moments she was parked inches away. I ordered everyone topside.
There was a fine mist of drizzle coming down now, not enough to get you soaking wet but more than enough to remind us all to dig out our rain ponchos. Doug Manybears bummed a cigarette off Sid and took a deep haul as he whispered something in Sarcee.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Doug exhaled a plume of smoke. “Prayer for the dead,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Whoever did that shit to them … they’re some kind of evil pricks for sure.”
Sid cocked his carbine. “Well, let’s find the bastards and end them,” he said, a little too gleefully for anyone’s liking.
Cruze hopped onto the hull of my carrier, shotgun in hand. “Nobody is ending anyone, Sid. Our goal is to get to the Alsask detachment, preferably with everyone here still alive.”
“Is it okay for me to come up top?” asked Jo, poking her head through the rear of Ark Two.
Damn. I didn’t want her to see the bodies, but she was within earshot of our discussion, so she knew something bad must have happened. She’d also made it clear for hours that she’d like to do more to earn her keep, so I spun around on my heels and gestured for her to climb topside.
“You can come up, Jo. There’s some bad stuff up ahead, but you’re part of our team – you deserve to know. I’ve got a job for you.”
Melanie Dixon lifted Jo onto the hull of the carrier. She scurried up to the front of the turret and started wide-eyed at the two bodies lashed to the fence.
“No way any creepers did that, Mel,” she said in a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone as she gazed out at the dead bodies. “People did that … people like us.”
Mel put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re not people like us, Jo,” she said softly. “Not even close.”
“All right!” I interrupted. “Everyone keep an eye on your arcs of fire while we figure out our next move. This isn’t a freaking social call – we have a decision to make.”
The team adopted their firing positions atop the carrier, each covering the left and right sides of the APC. I handed Jo a spare carbine and pointed to my eyes and then to the rear of the carrier. She didn’t even flinch as she quickly cocked the weapon and headed to the back. I studied the map alongside Cruze and then I looked out on the horizon for anything that might resemble potential ambush sites, but aside from the occasional silo and barn, there was nothing that would give anyone a commanding view for miles.
“Whoever did this – they’ve got our attention,” I said, glancing at the bodies.
Cruze fished a granola bar out of her breast pocket and began nibbling on a corner of it. “What are you thinking?”
I pointed to the fence line. “I guess they’re trespassers. Two survivors who unwittingly wandered into the tribe’s claim and were killed for making that mistake.”
“Hell of a mistake to make,” she said, taking a big bite out of her granola bar. “Look … it doesn’t matter if that pair wandered into Eden or were killed by their own people, we need to cross this highway and we’re going to be encroaching on claimed territory. We’re going to come into contact with them. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”
I glanced back at Sid Toomey, who was puffing on another cigarette and scanning the horizon for any signs of life. “Toomey wants to get into a fight, but I don’t. I wish we knew the boundaries of this Eden – we could just skirt around it.”
Cruze folded the map and handed it to me. “As I see it we’re in the shit whether we head north and try to flank Eden’s territory or whether we trespass on it. I say we cut the wire and push on. We’ll just have to be extra stealthy and try like hell to avoid whoever these assholes are.”
I stuffed the map into my pants pocket. “That’s what I’m thinking, too, Cruze. We still have to do some scrounging. If we run out of fuel we’re going to be hooped, though.”
She nodded and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dave, we’ve been hooped since day freaking zero, if you hadn’t noticed. But from where I stand, we’re still armed to the teeth. If these jerks take a shot at us, we’ll blow them off the freaking map.”
It was going to be a huge risk, but every day since the siege had been a game of managing the risks and hoping you’d pull through. And who was to say we’d encounter anyone at all? For all we know, the Eden tribe might just be a small band of survivors like us. Still, there was a predatory quality to the way in which they’d painted those words of warning.
I decided that in the end, it didn’t matter. I crawled back into my hatch and pursed my lips tightly as I fixed my eyes on the fuel gauge. We had slightly less than a quarter of a tank of diesel left, and that meant we had about a day’s worth of fuel in the jerry cans. Cruze and I ordered that we top up our vehicles – there was no way of conserving it. We’d cross over and we’d do some scrounging. We’d find some diesel, today.
And probably wind up in a fire fight.
17
Everyone recognized that the risks of veering north into the vicinity of Red Deer outweighed the risk of running into whoever the hell had murdered those two people. Sid was spoiling for a fight. Maybe that was his own ingrained sense of justice, or it might have been the fact that he was getting restless, sitting in a turret with twin machine guns and nobody to shoot at.
We fuelled up both carriers with the remaining diesel and cut through the wire on both sides of the highway. All hands were hatches up and keeping a watchful eye for signs of life as the carriers bounced across empty farmland. The drizzle had ended, but the temperature was dropping and I could see my breath every time I exhaled. It was probably going to snow; not an uncommon occurrence in November when you live on the Canadian prairie.
I slipped off my combat jacket and pulled a sweater over my head. I really hoped it wouldn’t snow. Whoever these Eden survivalists might be, they could easily follow our tracks and come up on us from behind. Then again, there’s only so much stealth you can use when you’re bombing up the back forty in an armored personnel carrier. The constant rumble from our engines could be heard from miles away, so I decided that whoever was out there, they had to know we were coming.
They just didn’t know what was coming.
It’s one thing to whack a pair of survivors who might have made the tragic mistake of trespassing on your land claim. It’s another thing entirely when the trespassers are carrying automatic weapons, mortars, high explosive charges and light anti-tank weapons on board. From a purely tactical perspective, the Eden tribe would be out-gunned. Save for an RCMP station, the closest establishment carrying a stockpile of convention
al military armaments was in Camp Wainwright, a good six hundred kilometers to the north-east.
Surely their land claim didn’t stretch that far. I popped back up in the hatch and glanced at my watch. It was just past four in the afternoon and we’d been driving for more than an hour since we crossed highway two. The first place we came to where people might once have lived wasn’t even a village. On the map it was called Neapolis, but it was nothing more than a few barns, a tourist information shack and a couple of rundown bungalows. We skirted along the sides of grid road 3-12 so we wouldn’t kick up any gravel dust that could be seen for miles by anyone in a sentry post. It was the best I could come up with in the way of stealth. I glanced down at my map. Dinsmore wasn’t more than a few kilometers to the east, so I hailed Ark Two on the radio.
“We’ve still got a ways to go before we hit Dinsmore. Bring your carrier up alongside mine.”
“On it,” Cruze replied, as we edged up to an enormous red barn.
“We’ll stop here, Doug,” I said through the intercom. Our carrier came to a gentle stop. Within seconds, Ark Two had pulled up beside us and I looked around for any signs of life.
The radio hissed. “One road into town and one road out,” said Cruze. “If they’ve got it blocked off we could be in trouble.”
“Agreed. Get on my tail once I cross onto the main drag. We’ll creep forward until we see anything that might offer some decent scrounging.”
“Well, there’s a barn, Dave,” she replied. “Maybe there’s some stuff inside?”
“Maybe. Give us some cover while we go inside and investigate. How’s Jo doing?”
Cruze answered in a haze of static. “Jo’s good. She’s having a big nap in the back. Mel’s doing her level best to let her sleep.”
The North: A Zombie Novel Page 12