“I think that’s zombie shit. And vomit.”
His eyes widened comically. “Shit? The fuckers actually shit out what they eat?” He paused, mulling that over in his head. “And you can tell the difference between what comes out top and bottom?”
Shrugging, I looked from one heap to the next. “That one still has parts in it that look like it came from something that once was alive. I’d say that’s barf. The rest, shit.”
“But we haven’t really seen any of them…” He trailed off there, clearly too baffled to finish.
“Take a dump?” I suggested. “I doubt that they’ll go round looking for the next potty. And besides, did you ever try to find out if their pants are stained from food, decomposing zombie bits, or what their bowels might evacuate?”
His lips quirked up for a moment, but he still looked decidedly shocked. “Not really, but now I’m kinda curious.” Taking a step further into the room, he inspected the “nest” more closely. “Do you think they’ve been squatting here? Not sure I’d call it living with the fuckers. But, you know. Staying here for an extended amount of time?”
I didn’t like considering that—and the ramifications that followed. “Judging from the bodies in the kitchen and the fact that everything in here is still liquid enough that the wind and cold got it to dry out, I’d say they’re still using this as a shelter.”
That left the uncomfortable question of where they were right now, but I could see from the look on Bates’s face that I didn’t need to articulate this.
“Shit.”
“Well, yeah, we already established that,” I teased, jerking my chin toward the back porch. “Let’s get out of here. As much as I don’t mind stinking up the car, I don’t want this stuff anywhere near my body, lingering scents or not.”
That we could easily agree on, and a minute later we joined the other two back outside. Spring air had seldom tasted better.
We shared our observations in hushed tones, making the other two eye us with revulsion that was funny on its own. I hesitated, but asked the question no one wanted to tackle. “Do we continue, fully knowing that somewhere in this town there are likely a few hundred zombies who’ve made their home here?”
“Few hundred?” Burns asked, his usual humor completely gone now.
I nodded. “So far, we’ve always estimated that one in ten or so has turned. I don’t remember where we got that number—“
“I think Martinez dragged that in from somewhere,” Andrej offered.
“Maybe. Probably. But remember that town where we picked up the cars?” Burns nodded. “There were easily enough zombies there to account for a ninety percent conversion rate, even if that still left them easy pickings for us, killing them one house at a time. Now, if Douglas had what, over six thousand inhabitants and only a tenth of them is shambling around now, that’s six hundred. If we go up to ninety? Do the math.”
The following silence was more than just unsettling.
“I doubt they’d have managed to stay active and fed for that long if they had so few dead to munch on,” Andrej noted eventually. “But I get it. Even if they just had a one in three turn rate, that’s well over two thousand strong now. Considering cannibalistic culling of the herd, subtract another five hundred. That’s still too many.”
I nodded, feeling dread claw at the back of my throat. Suddenly, that relative feeling of safety that had built up over the winter months was completely shot to hell.
“Do we try to warn the others?” I asked, not even sure how we would have gone about that.
Andrej shook his head. “If we asshats manage to work this out, I’m sure they can, too, or already have. But it’s something we need to take into account from now on. It’s going to make our lives a whole lot harder.”
Nodding, I glanced around, toward the center of town, even if it was hidden by the next house over.
“Do we proceed?”
Andrej nodded, and after a few moments so did Bates and Burns.
“But let’s try to keep this as quiet as possible,” Bates advised. “Because if there are really one and a half thousand of them around here, I don’t want to ring the dinner bell with my AK.”
That we could easily agree on, and after a few more seconds of deliberation we moved back out.
I spent the entire trek through town and back tense as hell, but we made it without any major altercations. Both gun shops and the police station were torn apart, but we still hit the proverbial mother lode, lugging more than twenty rifles and shotguns, and countless numbers of handguns and boxes of ammo back with us. We did check the next few zombies that we killed for stains, but it was impossible to tell what had left them where and how, and I wasn’t keen on getting close enough to cut away the rags to inspect what was underneath. My scientific curiosity had definitely taken a hit over the course of the last year.
We were the first group back at the cars, and after a quick discussion decided not to risk going back in for a second trip. We’d had to leave some potential loot behind, but not enough to risk it. So all we did the rest of the afternoon was hold watch and let the sun warm our faces. It might have been idyllic except that my brain wouldn’t stop screaming at me to get as far away as possible, right fucking now.
Pia and her group joined us just as the sun disappeared over the grassy horizon, heavily laden with spare parts for the cars that we hadn’t been able to get anywhere else yet, tools, and more ammo. Mostly staying to the south of town, they hadn’t encountered nearly as many zombies as we had, and our revelation about their emerging nesting habits—and digestive tract—was news to them. I could see the same alarm that I felt painted on more than one face, but they’d made it back safely, so there was no reason to fret. Except for the last four members of our team still out there, including our medic, second-best sniper, and leader. That Nate was pretty much impervious to zombie bites was so not a relief for me anymore.
And as if I’d jinxed it, just as I thought that, the wind brought the familiar sound of shots over to us, sending us scrambling for weapons and into cars immediately. There was no question about us coming to their rescue. If there was even a chance to save a single one of them, we’d do it—disregarding that our default plan was to beat it if issues arose. That plan had been made when we hadn’t expected the zombies to number in the thousands, possibly.
Burns and I were the only ones in our cars, so it made sense that Andrej and Santos would take point, while Taylor brought up the rear. Shooting and driving at the same time wasn’t really anything I planned to attempt, yet I still kept my shotgun right next to the handbrake, ready to be grabbed, free of the rack. Even though only minutes had passed since we’d heard the first shots, we threw all caution overboard and drove at top speed along the streets, heading east, hopefully not getting our people killed with that move. Then Andrej sent his Jeep off the road and into the winter-brown grass, and we all followed, barely slowing down.
We crested a soft rolling rise, and when my eyes fell on what was on the next road over, down the slope of this hill and up the other, I felt my muscles seize up with fright. Oh, indeed, our third group had found the squatting zombies, and plenty more than that, it seemed. There were easily a few hundred pouring out of town, more coming from all around to join them, limping and lumbering after the four lone figures who were barely managing to keep ahead of them.
Throwing caution to the wind, I stepped on the accelerator and sent the Rover straight for the road, not bothering with staying in formation any longer. Part of me wanted to try putting myself between the runners and the mob that followed them, but I knew that they’d overwhelm me in moments, and then I was of no use to anyone. Instead, I aimed ahead to where I estimated our guys would be by the time I made it down.
Gun shots coming from behind me made me glance in the mirror. The two fully stocked cars were angling toward the horde now, while Burns and Taylor were hot on my heels. A small voice at the back of my mind timidly suggested letting them take point, bu
t my car was lighter and equipped with a better suspension than the others, letting me drive just a little faster. So I made sure that I was closest to the mob when I shot out onto the street, tires squealing as the brakes cut in.
My timing was perfect. It only took Nate ten endless seconds to wrench open the door and throw himself inside.
“Go!”
That he didn’t have to tell me twice. Ambling the Rover in a tight semicircle, I brought it facing away from the town and floored it as soon as the car straightened out. Not bothering with his belt just now, Nate threw two grenades at the zombies—one landing dangerously close to where Taylor was reversing now to get away just as quickly after getting his passenger loaded—and then we were clear, jumping ahead of the mob. My heart was beating so fast that I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was visible even through my jacket, and that didn’t change for the next five miles.
Within two minutes, the other four cars had managed to disengage and catch up to us, speeding away as fast as we dared go. Nate finally buckled himself in, still panting heavily, sweat pouring off his forehead. I kept glancing between him and the road, trying to assess damage while not killing us both on the next soft curve of the road. It took me a full three minutes to realize that he was missing his pack, both bats, and assault rifle. At least that explained why he’d been firing his Glock, as the sniper rifle would have been completely useless at short distances.
“Let me guess. You found out that the town wasn’t half as deserted as we’d hoped,” I finally managed to say when my panic had reduced itself to mere fright.
Nate turned his head, giving me a humorless smile. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“They crap and puke, too. Just if you were wondering,” I told him.
“That your great discovery of the day?” he ventured a guess.
“Kinda. And that we should really stay away from cities.”
“No objections there.”
And that was the only thing we said for the next hour.
Chapter 6
We decided to keep driving until it got too dark to chance the roads without turning on the lights. All cars were outfitted with an extra battery of strong floodlights, but while they might come in handy in a pinch, in a world without electricity, they attracted everything in a ten mile radius, and that was so not what I needed after the day I’d had.
Case in point, as we were ambling along the road, it only took me a moment after we topped a small rise to realize that the speck that was dancing in the near darkness ahead of me was not some reflective surface amplifying the last rays of the setting sun.
“Is that a campfire?” Glancing at Nate from the corner of my eye, I could see that he was looking in the same direction.
“Looks like it,” he confirmed.
“Trap?” I ventured a guess.
He shrugged. “Or someone who needed some comfort to huddle around.”
“Locals?”
“I doubt it,” he replied. “If they knew the terrain, they wouldn’t be camping out in the open where their fire is visible from several miles away.”
I didn’t know what to make of that information, although it was hard to keep the glimmer of excitement from flaming alive into another idea that would potentially get us killed. Yet, even with Kevin and Dave intent on keeping in contact with everyone who had a radio and managed to tune into what remained of the national network, we knew almost nothing about what was going on anywhere—and someone who didn’t know their way around here might know just a little bit more about the corner of the world where they had spent the winter months.
“What do we do?” I asked, instinctively slowing the car down further to let the others close into a tighter formation, giving us some time to reach a decision.
Nate’s smile was only a hint away from sardonic. “Now you’re asking me?”
“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to storm into a zombie-infested population center,” I tried to defend myself with.
“But you were very vocal about the neighborhood watch needing more weapons and ammo,” he reminded me.
“So what, now I have to share the burden of every botched-up decision we make?”
His smile grew. “And why shouldn’t you? You’re bossy enough for the both of us.”
“Says Mr. I’m-the-leader-so-shut-up-and-follow-my-lead,” I bit back—but couldn’t help but feel a certain level of satisfaction come up inside of me. Back in Lexington, at the very beginning of our journey together, no one would have listened to me if I’d said anything. Now, Nate at least wanted to hear my opinion; if he valued it was an entirely different thing, but things were changing.
“Honestly, after today I’m disinclined to get my ass handed to me again quite so soon,” he offered, but there was enough doubt in his voice that it made it easy to guess that he was thinking along the same lines—foreigners might mean news, and in a world where food, ammo, and knowledge had replaced currency, that could make a difference.
“Can you tell how many of them there are? I say we approach them cautiously if we’re at double their strength,” I proposed, rolling to a stop so that Nate could get out and use the scope of his sniper rifle to try to get a clearer picture of the situation. Pia got out from the passenger side of the Jeep to join him, the two of them briefly exchanging words.
“Seven. Maybe eight if one of them stepped away from the group to take a piss,” Nate reported a minute later. “Two cars, but it’s too dark for me to see what’s inside. No tents but they’ve dug a fire pit, so they’re likely settling in for the night.”
Eight against thirteen didn’t sound too bad. Unless, of course, they were as paranoid as our group and brought an entire crate of mines with them that they dutifully set up each night to keep out intruders.
“Any road going by their camp?” I asked.
Nate shook his head. “They must have gone cross-country for at least five miles. Unless we sneak up on them on foot, there’s no way they won’t hear us approach from miles away.”
Which wasn’t a bad thing, considering that I didn’t think we wanted to actually scare the living crap out of them.
He kept looking at me, clearly waiting for my verdict, and after another few seconds of deliberation I gave a curt nod. “I’m for approaching them. That is, if no one needs stitches that are maybe a little hard to explain?”
Nate snorted, ignoring my attempt at fishing for information—again. I really didn’t understand why he still didn’t tell me exactly how many of our group had been exposed to that serum that now rendered them pretty much immune to the virus that turned the rest of us into zombies on contact. With Santos and Cho the exception, I was sure that I was the only one who didn’t know by now. So much for letting me make informed decisions.
“Things might have gotten hairy if you guys had idled around for another fifteen minutes, but as far as I know, they didn’t get any of us,” he replied. Maybe another day.
“Of course we can avoid them, but what’s the harm in finding out where they’re from and what they’re doing here? If we stay in the cars we can hightail it out of there if need be.”
Nate inclined his head at my suggestion.
“Zilinsky, Taylor, you stay back here until we give the signal. The rest are with us.”
At his order, the two cars remained behind—and Pia switched with Andrej for driving, likely because he was the better sharpshooter—while Burns and Bailey followed me as I continued down the road until we were close to the camp, where we veered off into the prairie grass, aiming straight for the campfire. I was tempted to turn on the lights when I hit the third rut in a row, my teeth clamping shut painfully, yet I refrained. If we hadn’t drawn any attention yet, there was no sense to jeopardizing us any further now.
Even in the heavy dusk I could tell exactly when they realized that something was out there and coming for them, making the seven figures scramble up from their places around the fire and take cover behind the cars. At least they were somewhat organized. No
t just because of the terrain I slowed down, and brought the Rover to a halt just outside of the fifty-yard range where I knew my shotgun turned from useless to effective. That was as non-threatening as I could make our approach.
I let Nate step out of the car—half hidden by the car door—while I remained behind the wheel. Let him get shot in the face if my guess proved to be wrong. I might have made the less imposing figure, but if they turned out not to be hostile, they’d find out soon enough that I was a woman.
“Hey there,” Nate called into the darkness, just loud enough that his voice carried across the distance between the two groups. “We saw your fire and thought we might come over for a chat.”
Murmurs rose between them, but none of them was stupid enough to get up from their cover.
“We intend you no harm, unless you do,” he went on, sounding a little as if he was talking to a frightened animal. “We have plenty of weapons and ammo, and enough food of our own to get by for a few more days. If you want, we can trade. But I’d be happy to share with you if you let us stay by your fire tonight.”
It still surprised me that his approach to barter usually started out as an altruistic one, but then again, he could easily do so, knowing that we had superiority in numbers, and likely firepower and training, too.
“So you say,” a deep voice replied, somewhere slightly to the left of the cluster in front of us. “Excuse me if I don’t blindly take you by your word.”
I saw the hint of a smile ghost over Nate’s face. He likely would have been just as suspicious if they’d simply invited us in.
“We only want to talk. You’re not from around here?” Silence met him, so Nate continued after a few moments. “Obviously you’re not, or you would have known that less than six miles away from here there’s a better shelter where you don’t advertise your position across the entire plain. If you want to, I can give you directions there, but you’ll likely just think that it’s a trap. So my suggestion is that we stay out here in the open. Unless you want us to go. Then we’ll go, and likely use that shelter. What do you say?”
The Green Fields Series Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 66