The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living

by Guess, Joshua

“We had a scout come through here right after it happened,” she said. “Apparently some of those defectors from the UAS walked out into the fight with their hands raised. I don't get how they weren't shot...”

  “I do,” Kell said. “As bad as things have been, it's easy to forget how decent people can be. I'd bet anything as soon as people saw them walking in a position of surrender, the soldiers gave them room. Probably stopped firing anywhere near them, if they didn't stop shooting altogether. A person offering no violence is hard to gun down, especially in a situation like that.”

  Jess smiled. “Contrast,” she said. “When you're fighting for your life, you can't miss that sort of gesture.”

  “That's my guess, anyway,” he replied. “How did that cause a cease-fire and peace talks?”

  She put down her tools, flexing her fingers. “The scout said they walked from New Haven to the UAS line. While the UAS talked to them, the ones still hanging back with our people explained what was happening. Said they were going to tell the enemy that peace wasn't just possible, but as easy as just stopping the fight.”

  Kell gaped. “There's no way. It couldn't be that simple.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” Jess said with a shrug. “Keep in mind these people have been fed bigger and bigger lies about us all year. At a certain point, you have to start questioning the absurd shit being handed to you. Not to mention how badly their leaders have been treating them. I think once they saw our setup here, the fact that we farm and take care of our own, they probably began to have doubts. Truth is, we're as practical as they come. I don't know anyone who wouldn't agree with the decision to just quit fighting, if both sides would do it.”

  “Maybe,” Kell said, disbelieving. “Just seems crazy to me. People in wars don't just stop.”

  Jess snorted. “No, people in war movies don't just stop,” she said. “Read a little history and you'll change your mind. The Christmas Truce is a good example, but really, the thing to remember is that wars are fought by people. Most of them don't want to kill or fight if they can avoid it.”

  She paused, cocking her head. “The scout did mention one of the defectors talking about a boy they'd met who should have been killed in some fight or another with the Union, but was let go by the man who could have killed him. Apparently the kid told people, made them believe we weren't as bad as their leaders keep saying. No idea if it's true.”

  Kell laughed until tears poured down his face.

  Twenty-Five

  The truce was imperfect, and it wasn't easy.

  There were UAS soldiers who absolutely refused to lay down arms when it became clear there was no profit in continuing to attack New Haven. Some of them were taken captive when they became violent. Others were killed in the struggle. Those who weren't stupid enough to raise a fist when outnumbered dozens to one were allowed to leave, stripped of their weapons and warned not to return.

  Trust was thin on the ground. Kell saw the wary eyes of their former enemies study every angle of New Haven when they came in for meals. That was necessary; the only way to feed so many extra mouths was to bring some of them inside, in groups, as well as set up temporary mess areas in the UAS camp.

  Every day brought some new concern or complaint from one side or the other, but beyond a few fistfights those tensions never devolved into violence. Though he kept a low profile when the UAS were around, there was no shortage of information to be had. Gossip is well known, as the great author said, as the only thing capable of breaking the speed of light.

  Suspicions were high, but when it came to peace the burden had never been on New Haven or the Union. They would have happily, even greedily, traded with the UAS had they been approached. At no point were the leaders of any of the Union communities averse to ending the fight. Oh, there would be bad blood and grudges held, that was only natural. Those feelings, however persistent, would smother under the weight of a survivor's pragmatism.

  No, the need to believe peace was possible rested solely on the shoulders of the invaders. As Jess surmised, many of them harbored doubts long before the men giving them orders had cut rations and declared war. Those leaders had done as politicians have always done, painting their society as the only civilized force in a world gone mad. They were the greatest, the best, the true believers. Those on the outside had descended into savagery.

  Essentially, those former senators and congressmen had used every trick in the book to pull on the strings of patriotism and jingoism in their people. They portrayed the Union in nearly the same light as marauders, and when the troops began to see the truth with their own eyes, those tired old men had made up worse.

  In the end, it was the simplest truth which convinced the majority of them; the Union could hardly be full of bloodthirsty monsters if they were willing to stop the fight and sue for peace. The promise of food sealed the deal more firmly than blood ever could.

  The peace wasn't spread evenly across the vast territorial border. Some groups of UAS were more loyal (or more gullible) and refused to quit. Others turned back to make war on their own people, furious for any number of perfectly valid reasons. A handful of Union assault forces acted similarly, but the harsh treatment from the Union loyalists ensured those small revolts were few and far between.

  Despite the many flaws and rough spots, both sides appeared to be working genuinely toward a lasting peace. For Kell it was a moment he had worried would never come.

  Aside from keeping his distance from the UAS, his days were suddenly free. Guard duty was staffed by a minimal number of people thanks to the soldiers camping outside. It was a gesture of goodwill not taken lightly, as defending the community from zombies was the first concern of every citizen.

  Kell spent much of his time cramming in classes in every subject he thought might be useful, trying to make up for lost time. No longer bound to guard duty, he could finally allow himself to believe the next great step would really happen. The war was over, and his plan to relocate to Iowa was no longer a vague possibility.

  With that impending change, there was a piece of business Kell was eager to finish. He and John would likely be able to make much headway on their own, but Kell remained utterly convinced of the need to have Josh with him to study. Not only him; every person living in their new home would need to give samples regularly.

  The field hospital was, for the time being, literally that. The large empty space where the evacuation had taken place was filled with dozens of tents and cobbled-together temporary buildings. The number of injured people was staggering, enough that only the most severely wounded were kept in the huge pavilion and it still overflowed.

  Kell entered the tiny private tent Jess had put up for her husband to afford them some measure of privacy. Josh grinned as Kell squeezed onto the narrow bar stool that was the only other seat. The man himself reclined on a cot festooned with pillows and blankets arranged carefully to keep him comfortable.

  “Hey,” Josh said, his voice raspy.

  Kell marveled at him. Shot several times, one bullet clipping the heart, unconscious for three days, and yet he looked good. Not healthy by any stretch, but much better than someone who had died for a little while had any right to look.

  “I'd like to talk to you,” Kell said. “It's important.”

  “Sure,” Josh said. “Should we wait for Jess to get here? Should be soon.”

  Kell nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

  It took two hours to tell the whole story, from the discovery of Chimera to the night Josh was shot. Jess, who had heard some of it before, was interested in the details new to her but not otherwise surprised. Josh, on the other hand, sat with his mouth agape.

  “I remember talking to you,” he said. “You mean I was fucking dead when that happened?”

  “Sort of,” Kell said. “Clearly, you weren't actually dead since you were talking, but your heart had stopped.”

  Josh scrubbed a hand across his face. “And the plague...Chimera, it kept me alive?”

&nb
sp; “Yep,” Kell said.

  “Wow. That's kind of cool. You think studying me can help you cure the plague?”

  Kell fidgeted. “Maybe. It's obvious the organism is doing some pretty incredible things, like making it easier to recover from injuries and harder to get sick.”

  Understanding dawned on the other man's face. “You mean you might not cure it.”

  “It's possible,” Kell admitted. “I want you to come with us so I can study you long-term, along with anyone else who has the same symptoms. I can promise you I'll do everything in my power to stop the zombies, but I can't discount the possibility that Chimera might be incredibly beneficial for the living.”

  “I understand,” Josh said, his face somber. He shifted slightly, angling his injured body toward his wife as much as possible. “What do you think, babe? Should we go?”

  Kell knew her just well enough to know the flicker of emotions on her face meant she was struggling to hold something back, but not well enough to know what it was. She took a deep breath, then, finding one insufficient, another.

  “You've been hurt a lot,” she said evenly. “You started this place. You saw it coming. You've done enough. I can't watch you get kicked around any more. Living with so many people is dangerous, and honestly I'm tired of the responsibility. I say we go. I think a smaller community would be easier to manage, and if it's as out of the way as he says, it's bound to be less of a target.”

  Josh nodded as she spoke. Kell formulated arguments to every response he could imagine Josh would come up with, his brain working on several at once.

  “Okay,” Josh said. “We'll go.”

  Kell was already raising a hand in protest before the words registered. “Wait, seriously? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he said with a shrug. “Jess isn't going to be happy staying here, hasn't been happy for a while. If she wants to go, we will. She's also right. I'm tired of being shot at.”

  A flush of raw joy swept through Kell. “This is fantastic, I'll have to talk to Lee and Laura, and to Will—”

  Jess put up her palms. “Hold up, man. Remember he can't go anywhere until he's had time to heal. We can plan and get ready, but it'll be a while.”

  “Of course,” Kell said, his elation not dulled a whit. “I'll start the process. Will is going to give us some pretty solid resources, and some of our people have been there for a while, setting up. We won't be starting from scratch.”

  “Talk to me tomorrow,” Jess said. “I'll work out what we'll take as far as food and seeds go.”

  “What do you guys want me to work on?” Josh asked. “I can write out lists of supplies, or whatever you want.”

  Jess scowled at him. “You aren't doing anything. You're going to work on getting better.”

  He looked at Kell, his eyes comically wide. “You hear that? I get no respect. No respect, I tell ya,” he said in a terrible Rodney Dangerfield impression.

  “That was a terrible Rodney Dangerfield impression,” Jess said. “I've seen you do better.”

  Kell laughed.

  “See?” Josh said. “No damn respect!”

  He left them, partly to give the pair time alone to work out the implications of leaving their home, and partly because of a sudden lance of pain in his chest. It was sharper than he would have thought, but at that moment he had been struck with a powerful sense of familiarity. He and Karen had been like those two, always joking with each other. Constantly bickering about little, stupid things simply for the hell of it.

  The pain faded quickly, the old wound dulling down to its usual quiet pulse, but the memory remained. Kell found himself wandering the grounds aimlessly, remembering his wife and life before The Fall fondly. For the first time in years, he was able to hold those precious moments without being burned by them.

  That evening, someone knocked on the door of the RV. Kell put down the book he was reading—a Brandon Sanderson novel—and let his guest in.

  “This place looks like it belongs to a mad scientist,” Will said as he stepped inside. Scratching his chin, he added, “But then I guess it sort of does.”

  Kell chuckled, gesturing toward a chair. “Mildly annoyed scientist, most of the time. What can I do for you?”

  Will flopped into the chair, then reached into a pocket to produce a flask. “I thought we'd have a drink. To celebrate.”

  Kell leaned back in his own chair, fishing two tumblers from the counter. “What's the occasion?”

  “We finalized our agreement with the UAS about an hour ago,” Will explained as he poured. They took up the glasses, two fingers of amber liquid in each. “To peace,” Will said.

  “Hear, hear.”

  They drank. Will stared at his glass, the stark light of the small LED lamp fracturing across the bevels. “I always thought we'd win, you know. I figured the cost would be...” He trailed off, a haunted look flashing in his eyes. “Well, I'm glad it happened this way. After what we did to the Hunters, I sort of lost my appetite for wholesale killing.”

  “That didn't stop you from ordering it when they attacked us,” Kell said carefully.

  Will gave him a sad smile. “No, it didn't. It wouldn't have stopped me from ordering every one of them killed, either. I just wish it hadn't come to this.”

  The bourbon was a fire in the pit of Kell's stomach, warmth spreading through him. Throwing caution to the wind, he said what had been on his mind for months.

  “It didn't have to, you know.”

  Will tilted his head. “Didn't have to what?”

  “End up this way. This war was as much our fault as theirs,” Kell said.

  Will regarded him silently for a few seconds. “How so?”

  “Come on, man,” Kell said. “You've read the things that have been written about this place. The Hunters were a nightmare, no one is arguing that. But we knew about the UAS before they had done more than sack a few communities. You and the council could have sent people to meet with the UAS, worked something out. I hear we're going to be trading food shipments with them in return for them providing a good chunk of our defense. We could have made that offer a long time ago.”

  Will hefted his glass, which seemed to weigh heavier in his hand than it had a few moments before. “You're right. Josh said it weeks ago. We could have avoided this.”

  “Maybe,” Kell said. “Maybe they would have attacked anyway. The point is, no one tried. I'm enough of an outsider to see what most others can't or won't. Living apart from people as much as I did gives you some unique perspectives.”

  Kell drained his own glass. “Most of us have lost our ability to take risks. Not against enemies or zombies. With each other. We've become very clannish, distrustful to the point of paranoia. That isn't bad in and of itself, things being the way they are, but it's a huge problem when it keeps us from even thinking of trying a diplomatic solution.”

  Will stared, eyes unfocused, at the wall to his right. “Think of all the deaths we could have avoided.”

  Kell held up a finger. “Or maybe they would have pretended to work with us, gained our trust, and betrayed us. Maybe that paranoia was the right reaction.”

  Will's gaze snapped to Kell. “You're a confusing and frustrating guy, do you know that?”

  Smiling, Kell shrugged. “I've been told. My point isn't to make you regret. It's over and done, and there's no use beating your chest over it. Trust me on this; I know about that level of guilt. I brought it up so you'll think about it next time you have a chance to extend a hand to someone instead of a fist.”

  “Next time? Let's hope not...”

  Reaching into a cabinet, Kell produced a full bottle of bourbon. “Take a look at the world around you, Will. There's always going to be a next time. Difference is, you won't rush to make the same decision when it happens.”

  After Kell poured, Will picked up the half-full glass. “Damn right I won't.”

  Twenty-Six

  For Kell, everything seemed frozen. Knowing they would be leaving
eventually and really understanding the fact on an emotional level were two different things. Will was as good as his word; he gave them supplies and transport, manned by the people in Kell's group.

  From his perspective, however, the only sign of change were the people in the camp slowly disappearing. One day a tent would be gone, packed away as they made the move to Iowa, bringing supplies and helping the others turn their new home into something capable of supporting all of them. Kell did little other than plan. He could have left at any time, but he would have rather cut off an arm than lose the opportunity to study Josh's physiology while he was healing.

  The days crept by, slowly growing into weeks. The peace with the UAS became more solid, but as it did the few cracks became more visible. All over the Union border—and within the territory held by the UAS—small splinter groups broke away from their small nation. Some took to the roads to found their own communities, others became little more than marauders. A few still fought those they saw as enemies, blind to the facts.

  With a large force of well-armed people seeing to the defense of New Haven, including the construction of a huge barrier to allow for extensive farming around the entire place, Kell felt safe for the first time in many years. There were still jobs to do, but they were piddly things. Most of the time he read or studied, with the occasional patrol to keep his defenses sharp.

  It was only on the eve of their departure that Kell truly believed they would be leaving. He stepped out of the RV and noted the lack of any other members of the group. Every tent was gone, the few small buildings empty. The fire pit was cold, unused for days. The grill they had built as a group was dark and unused. The picnic table had been taken apart and whisked away.

  Lee and Laura were seeing to last-minute details. Josh and Jess were packing up the things they would be taking with them, giving away what they wouldn't. Which would be the majority, of course. Funny how things had changed, when you looked at it in terms of material possessions. A scant few years before, it would have torn at people to leave behind the accumulated stuff of a lifetime. Kell thought of it less as a loss of value in those items than a gain in perspective about what truly mattered.