“It can wait until he gets looked at,” Scotty said. “A few minutes won't matter.”
There was steel in Scotty, Kell observed again. No doubt about it.
Whatever questions Dodger had did in fact wait, and more than a few minutes. Between flashes of pain that caused him to burst into waves of sweat, he watched people clean up and manage the scene. Bodies were piled and burned, dogs set in pickets to discourage the undead. The wounded were treated, Kell included, and someone—someone wonderful—injected him with something that made him not care a bit about his broken bone.
Eventually a consensus formed among the medical staff that the break wasn’t something any of them could fix. The bone was bent upward in the middle but still in one piece, a partial break that would require surgery to straighten but could otherwise be left alone to heal.
Kell, medicated as he was, shrugged. Which hurt like hell. Scotty slapped him on the back of the head.
Eventually Kate showed up, blood splattered up her boots and across the cuffs of her pants.
“You okay?” she asked as she approached the section of grass where he lay on his back, his only cover a thin blanket. “Why aren't you in the tent with the rest of them?” She jerked a thumb at the hastily-erected green tent a few yards away.
“Not enough room,” Kell said thickly, trying to work moisture into his mouth. The damn pain meds always did that. “Lot of people hurt this time. We need to do better. Fight smarter.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Funny, the look on your face when you were talking about Laura made me think you didn't want to fight at all.”
Kell smiled at her weakly. “Fighting I don't mind. It's the killing that's the problem. But we don't have a choice. If we're going to do it, we should be better at keeping our people safe.”
“Yeah,” she said, her carefree facade cracking to show the concern beneath. “We're getting lucky. About all we have going for us is surprise.”
“Well, that and being able to pick off a lot of them at guard change. Taking down a quarter of them in one shot probably saved our asses,” Kell said.
“You're right,” Kate said. “We do need to fight smarter. Or better yet, not fight at all if we can avoid it. We also need to stay focused and keep taking out as many as possible before the actual fight. I mean, hell, that one prisoner almost got you. If it hadn't been for Scotty...”
Kell felt the heat rise in his face. Not for the first time, he was thankful for his dark skin, which hid the blush, though it would have been hard to see on anyone in the dim lantern light. “About that,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.
Then he told her.
There was never a question of keeping it from her, even if Kell thought she would take it badly. Not that there was much chance; Kate had once killed a man who held a grudge against Kell. Granted, the guy had tried to shank him in the kidney in the middle of a zombie attack, but Kate made her move in cold blood. She wasn't at all put off by the conversation.
“And you're sure he knew who you were?” she asked when he finished.
“Yes,” Kell replied, shaking his head. “You should have seen him, Kate. He was shocked speechless for a minute. He didn't know how to react.”
She crouched next to him, resting elbows on knees as she steepled her fingers in front of her lips. Her fine brows knitted together thoughtfully. “It's probably good you were hurt, then,” she said after a long pause. “We can't risk anyone from the other camps figuring out you're alive, and this will keep you away from the enemy. No chance they'll recognize you if you aren't fighting.”
The same thought had crossed his mind, though with a healthy dollop of guilt. “I want to help,” he said.
“You will,” Kate said. “You'll sit around and mope like you always do, then have a brilliant flash of inspiration on how we can kill these guys without getting whittled down to nothing. Then I'll figure out a way to share this genius insight without making you look like the genius you are, thus avoiding suspicion.”
Kell chuckled. “When you say it like that, you make it sound...”
“Predictable?” Kate said. “I've known you a long time. I know how your brain works. Once you're forced to sit still and think, you'll do nothing else until you come up with a solution or two. I've seen you do it. A lot.”
Placing a hand over his heart, Kell gave a theatrical sigh. “Are you saying all the surprise is gone from our relationship? That I'm boring?”
Kate nodded sagely. “I am absolutely saying that. But it's okay, you can be the boring one. I like being full of surprises.”
And with that, she darted in and kissed him on the mouth. It came as such a shock that Kell froze solid. As soon as it began, it was over, Kate standing and grinning impishly.
“Besides, when you do something unexpected, prisoners get killed. I think you better leave the impulsive behavior to me.”
Three
Kell sat out the next attack, which was their last assignment before heading home. According to their prisoner there were only three Hunter groups in the local cell. Dodger was certain the prisoner told the truth, though given the need to limit how much any soldier knew, it was possible other groups worked nearby and the man simply didn't know.
With a fairly important bone broken, there was no way Kell could fight. He might have managed to fire a rifle with a little tinkering, but his lack of finesse with guns made the idea worthless. Instead, he spent the night of the final attack hobbling carefully around the bus carrying the wounded. Kell wasn't in terrible shape compared to some of them, so he helped by providing food and water when asked for, helping change bandages, and keeping the injured fighters company.
As he moved among them, the sound of gunfire, distant and muffled, intruded. The thunder of nearby war caused the faint sense of satisfaction, brought on by helping the wounded, to evaporate. It wasn't so much a sense of futility or sadness at the fighting, but more a combination of anger and worry. People he cared about and respected were out there right now, using the best tools at their disposal to fight a ruthless enemy.
Kell carefully removed a bandage, letting his body fall into the familiar routine while his mind gnawed on the problem exactly as Kate predicted. There weren't many avenues that hadn't already been discounted, obviously. Though most of New Haven's citizens did not have military training, they had plenty of practical experience in critical—even life-saving—problem solving. Kell had heard dozens of discarded ideas, many creative and original, just from the people in this battle group.
Explosives were of limited use, given the need to recover as much of the stolen goods as possible. Anything involving fire was out for the same reason. So it went with heavy weaponry and any other notion involving a use of broad, overwhelming force. They were left with observation and adaptation of man-to-man tactics for each group. There had to be something simple and easy they were all missing, something that would minimize risk but that no one had seen.
That was always how it went, right? The obvious solution stared you in the face until you finally wised up and focused on the small picture right in front of you.
Kell finished changing the bandage and trundled back to the station where the supplies were kept. He tossed the used bandages in a plastic container and poured a little bleach on them, sloshing the pan around before putting it aside.
The work wasn't hard, even with his arm in a sling. His hand worked fine, and more important, so did his brain. The trick was to work within the limitations, using the injured side for fine manipulation and the other for the heavy lifting. It was all about using what you had to get the job done.
As he lifted another dressing kit and turned to move on to the next patient, Kell stopped. An idea burst into his brain fully formed, a simple but devastatingly effective plan. It contained elements already deemed too risky by the people in charge, but Kell's version sidestepped most of the objections he could think of.
Kate was right, as always. He had just
needed the right circumstances to get his brain working on the problem. The right perspective.
He tossed the kit back on the supply kiosk and carefully climbed out of the bus. Fortunately, whoever decided it would make an excellent caravan for the wounded had recognized the need to easily move in and out of the thing, and had added folding steps to the back. Even so, his entire shoulder buzzed with pain as he dropped the final eighteen inches from the last step.
The vehicles were spread in a wide semicircle several hundred yards from the enemy camp. The terrain here, sixty miles from the second camp they had attacked, was all hills and trees, more than enough cover for getting close to the action without being seen.
The command tent sprouted from the back of a military vehicle, one of two in their possession. The heavy canvas draped over a locking frame welded to the back of the truck, which could be easily unfolded and set up in less than a minute. Another clever solution to living on the run. Kell wondered how many ideas like that had been thought up since the end of the world.
The tent's sides were up, revealing Dodger hunched over an ancient radio plugged into a makeshift array of car batteries. One of his headphones was pushed back from his ear, but his body language was pure concentration. He was listening to a live feed of the fight. This time around, the leaders of each unit wore radios with the microphones locked on.
The death of the prisoner from the last attack had been written off as self-defense, as expected. The only witnesses were Kell and Scotty, and their story was the same. This trip didn't require capturing anyone, but Dodger had sent orders to bring in the commander if possible. He wanted the sort of intelligence only people in leadership positions would have access to.
Kell imagined Kate would be searching for the commander as well, if for completely different reasons.
He stood a respectful distance away, waiting for Dodger to acknowledge him. It didn't take long; the sound of gunfire had already begun to slow, the initial attack having long since transitioned into entry into the camp and man-to-man combat.
Dodger looked over and motioned for Kell to sit in one of the empty folding chairs near the radio. His head was still cocked slightly to one side as he listened to the feed, but his eyes were focused on Kell. “What's up?” he asked.
“Sir, what's our goal with the Hunters?” Kell asked in return.
Dodger blinked in surprise. “As far as I know, we're going to stop them from taking out any more communities. It'll be a long, drawn-out fight until we push them hard enough that they retreat back to their main camp.”
“So just to make sure I'm understanding you, we're going to kill them?”
Slightly exasperated, Dodger nodded. “Yeah, man. Didn't I just say that?”
“No, you said we're going to fight them,” Kell said. “We don't have to do that if we just want to kill them.”
Dodger waved one of the guards over, handing the man the headset. “Put this on,” he said. “If you hear anything go wrong, if anyone gives one of the emergency signals, you yell for me. I'll be just over there.”
He hauled Kell twenty feet away, stopping out of earshot. The man's face was intense, curious, and a little frightening. “I'm listening,” he said.
Kell talked.
The convoy driving back to New Haven was much larger than the one that left. There were less people—they had suffered losses—but the number of vehicles had hugely increased. Many of the injured were in good enough condition to drive, and thanks to the fuel reserves carried by the Hunters, there was no need to leave any useful set of wheels behind.
Trucks carrying the supplies raided from communities by the Hunters rode alongside several new assault vehicles. One trailer held all the weapons Kell's group had liberated from their defeated enemies, along with a huge stock of ammunition. Other vehicles were brought on their own merit; a modified and armored tanker for fuel, and one for propane. Anything and everything of value had been piled together, every useless bus and truck drained of fuel in order to return as much value for the trip as possible.
It remained unspoken that no amount of loot could replace the lives lost, but those deaths had not been in vain. The purpose of the trip was to bloody the Hunters, to show them that New Haven and its allies would not allow the attacks to continue.
Kell, sitting in the back of a truck atop a pile of reclaimed clothing, thought they had managed that goal admirably.
“I can't believe you just went up to Dodger and casually told him you could make chemical weapons,” Kate said, not for the first time.
“It wasn't like that,” Kell replied, shifting his weight in a futile attempt to get comfortable. “I poured the bleach and the idea hit me. I had to say something before we got home, put the idea in his head so he had time to think about it. If it works, we'll be able to stop the attacks in one try.”
Kate grimaced. “If it doesn't, you'll end up poisoning our people and get them all killed. There's a reason they shot down chemical weapons, Kell. And worse, you're drawing attention to yourself.”
Kell twisted around, giving her a puzzled smile. “How is that worse than everyone getting killed by my stupid idea?”
Kate didn't smile back. “Because if someone finds out you created the plague and decides to kill you for it, the chances of saving the human race go down by half. If the people fighting the Hunters die, it's just their lives lost.”
There was no denying the horrible calculus of it. Kate was right. It was a bit of an overreaction in his opinion, as the idea he had presented to Dodger didn't scream genius.
The basic concept was simple enough; there were plenty of chemicals that created deadly vapors when mixed, and with most of humanity gone there were huge stocks of them laying around for the taking. The reason no one in New Haven or its allied communities had gone that route was because of the huge risk such chemicals posed to the people using them. They didn't have access to containers designed both for safety for the user and easy dispersal against the enemy. The military had historically paid enormous sums of money to contractors to design those sorts of things.
The solution came to him fully-formed, as most of his ideas did. Rather than worry about having to mix chemicals at a certain time or create a custom pressure vessel that would release a mixture exactly as needed, they could create as much gas as needed and store it in empty propane tanks. Then it would be a simple matter of finding an enclave of Hunters and breaching the tank, which could be done in any number of ways.
“It's risky,” Kate said, interrupting his train of thought. “But if it works, you'll save a lot of lives.”
“And kill even more people,” Kell corrected.
“Does it bother you?” Kate asked, a curious glint in her eyes.
Kell paused. “The necessity does. But these guys are as bad as anything we've faced. They don't get the benefit of any second thoughts.”
His answer satisfied her, a grim fact in its own right. They spent the remainder of the trip spitballing ideas back and forth, working out wrinkles. Kate was more interested in determining the best way to release the gas from its container, while Kell wracked his brain for every scrap of chemistry he could recall. There were a lot of possibilities, each requiring a tremendous amount of work.
“Weren't you thinking about doing this when we took on that band of marauders back up north?” Kate asked later that day.
“Yep,” Kell replied distractedly.
“Why is it a better idea now than it was then?”
“Because then we had to worry about killing the prisoners,” Kell explained. “And we didn't have raw materials or the manpower needed to make it work correctly. If Will and the New Haven council get behind this, it will be doable. Risky, sure, but so is another head-on fight.”
She didn't argue the last point at all.
By the time they returned to New Haven, Kell had begun to doubt his idea. After debating the pros and cons with Kate for hours, it seemed impossible that someone hadn't presented this exact plan be
fore. Propane tanks had even been used as weapons, which was how he had gotten the idea in the first place.
There was no welcoming committee waiting to greet them. Under normal circumstances there would have been any number of volunteers at the gate to help the wounded and see to the needs of the weary travelers. The threat raised by the Hunters demanded an increase in security measures, however, and every available hand was working on the defenses. People swarmed the walls and the land in front of it, setting traps and reinforcing the rough stone as best they could.
The truck Kell rode in stopped just inside the gate, one in a long line that would be tended to as needed. He stood, stretching before attempting to climb over the tailgate. His broken collarbone was going to make everything harder.
His feet hit the grass, but before Kell could take a step, Dodger called out to him. The man motioned for Kell to climb into his vehicle.
“Come on,” Dodger said. “I need to report to Will, and I want you to tell him what you told me.”
“Sure,” Kell said, climbing into the truck. It was a short drive, of course, a distance they could have walked in five minutes. Kell was thankful to avoid that, since his shoulder was throbbing and his body aching from two fights in as many days.
They waited only a few minutes as Will finished up a meeting, and were ushered into his office as soon as the previous guests made it through the door.
Will motioned for them to sit.
“How'd it go?” he asked without preamble.
Kell sat quietly as Dodger gave his report. It was detailed but not overly so, a concise summary of their encounters with the three Hunter groups. Kell even learned a few things by listening, facts he hadn't been aware of as a fighter on the ground. When Dodger finished, he gestured to Kell.
“K came to me with an idea,” Dodger said. “Told me we can make chemical weapons to kill the Hunters without fighting them.”
The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living Page 4