“How many zombie kids are left?” I asked Duncan.
“Well, we got four, so there’s twelve still out there,” Duncan said. “We tracked those four through the snow, but the others got away from us.”
Charlie opened his eyes. “No they, didn’t. John and I took care of the rest.”
Duncan’s eyes got wide. “All of them? Damn.”
I nodded. “It was a close thing. We took out some on a porch, and the rest came at us in the street. Charlie had two on him at one point. He’s lucky he didn’t get bit.”
Charlie held up a hand. “Actually, I think I did.”
Tommy slammed on the brakes, causing the truck to slide about fifty feet. He spun around in his seat and glared at Charlie.
“If this is another joke like your family’s graves in Missouri, it’s not fucking funny.” Tommy was livid.
Charlie shook his head. He pulled off his glove, and on the back of his hand was a small bite mark. Four of the teeth marks had just made dents, but the fifth one had broken the skin.
“Didn’t start to feel it until now. But it kind of stings, now that you mention it,” Charlie said, quietly.
We sat in silence for a moment. I had no words to say. Charlie was my brother, plain and simple. We had been through death, fire, and more zombies than I cared to count. There was a black pit in my stomach that was threatening to consume me. I felt sadness mixed in with rage and hate.
I tried to pull it together for a second.
“Get us back to camp,” I croaked.
Tommy nodded, his eyes full of his own tears. Duncan couldn’t take his eyes off Charlie, as if he was trying to make him better through sheer force of will.
“It’ll be okay, John,” Charlie said quietly. “It’ll be okay.”
I didn’t say anything while we drove back to camp. I didn’t have the words. What could I say? What was I going to say to Rebecca or Julia? I just silently shook my head all the way back to camp.
We pulled up to the trailer and Charlie stumbled getting out of the truck. Tommy caught him and steadied him. We got him inside, and Duncan fired up the heaters, sending welcome warmth throughout the trailer. When Sarah, Rebecca, and Janna had gone back to Starved Rock for the winter, the four of us had moved into one trailer for the trip. It was tight, but we didn’t spend much time there anyway.
Charlie took his gear off, and Duncan took his axe and tomahawks outside for cleaning. He handled them almost reverently, like they were precious artifacts. Charlie frowned at him.
“Ain’t dead yet, doofus,” he said.
“Shut up,” Duncan replied.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“It’s weird. I can feel a kind of heat working its way up my arm. My head feels a little fuzzy, but it’s not that bad,” Charlie said.
He took off his coat and vest and stumbled into the front bedroom. He lay down and closed his eyes, his breathing still regular.
I left him and went to sit down with Tommy and Duncan. Both of them were in shock and just sat there staring ahead.
“Don’t lose hope yet,” I said.
Duncan looked at me. “How can you say that? He’s been bit! He’s going to turn into a zombie. We’re going to have to kill him! Can you pull the trigger on him? I’m not sure I can.”
I shook my head. “We will do what we have to. If he turns into a zombie, we’ll put him down, because that’s what he would want. Could you leave him to walk around like that?”
Duncan looked down. “No. But Charlie’s been like my older brother.”
“I know. And if it comes to that, it will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do,” I said.
Tommy looked at me. “You’ve said ‘if’ twice now. What do you know that we don’t?”
I rummaged through my pack and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside the bag was an envelope. I took that out and handed it to Tommy. Tommy took the letter and opened it. As he read, his eyes got wide and he looked at me with renewed hope. He showed it to Duncan, who smiled.
“So there’s a chance?” he said.
“A good chance, yes.” I said. “Charlie might still turn, but there’s a good chance he won’t. We just have to keep an eye on him.”
“What about you?” Tommy said. “The letter mentioned that you were partially immune as well.”
“I asked the doc about that, and she said it was weird. Half of the samples she took were immune from the virus, the other half weren’t. It was like it depended on which virus showed up to work that day,” I said.
“But Charlie…?”
“Charlie’s blood resisted the virus every time. But that was with older virus strains. I don’t know if he’s resistant to a newer strain,” I said.
Duncan thought about it. “Maybe it’s not newer. These kids were infected at the base, and they’ve been there since it started.”
“Good point. Let’s see what happens,” I said.
We got up to stand vigil at Charlie’s side. When we went into the room the change was minimal. Charlie was laying on his back, his hands at his sides. He was sweating, and I could almost sense the battle taking place in his body.
We waited in silence, and suddenly Charlie’s body jerked. He turned onto his side and curled up into a fetal position. He suddenly straightened and began to tremble. The veins on his arms stuck out, and the one nearest his bite were deep purple.
I put my hand on my Glock, not sure I was going to be able to do what had to be done should the worst happen.
Tommy saw me move and put his own gun in his hand. I appreciated his caution. It likely would take more than one bullet to put the big man down.
Charlie let out a long breath and then lay still. His chest heaved for a moment and then slowed down to a more normal pattern. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, then sat up. He brought a hand up to his head, and then he stood up.
I pointed my gun at his head.
“Charlie?” I asked quietly.
Charlie turned towards me. He eyes were unfocused, and he blinked several times. He took a step towards me and raised a hand. He tapped on the gun and smiled.
“Thanks for the thought, but I think I’m okay,” he said. “God, I have a headache.”
Tommy, Duncan, and I all slumped down, the pressure and adrenaline leaving us in a rush. I holstered my gun and wrapped up Charlie in a bear hug.
“Be more careful next time, brother,” I said after I let him go, and he had a chance to hug the other two.
Charlie nodded. “That sucked. Not sure I ever want to do that again.”
“You and me both,” I said.
Outside, the wind picked up, and the northern wind battered our camp. It was a bitter, freezing wind, and it was as if it was warning us about things to come.
Montana, Campsite
Darnell Tibbles walked the logging road, an arrow ready in his bow. He was becoming quite the mountain man, reading signs and tracking animals. He didn’t do it for fun; it was a matter of survival at this point. The snows had come down in earnest, blocking passes and covering the trees in a white blanket. The lower areas were not as bad, but there was still a good foot of snow on the ground.
For Darnell’s purposes, that was fine. It allowed him to track prey and move without too much noise. He’d found some small snares at the house by his cabin, but he didn’t want to use them for fear of scaring game away. They had been here for a good while and were well suited to last the winter.
Darnell knew it wasn’t going to last. As soon as the snow broke in spring they’d have to get moving south. Cole was not one to leave things alone, and he’d send more men out through the passes as soon as they were cleared.
The quiet of the morning, with the sound of the river acting as a kind of white noise, coupled with the beauty of the trees and mountains, made Darnell feel a pang of regret at the thought of moving on. But he was honest with himself and knew that his daughter was going to have to eventually find her own way, with new people, and that certainl
y wasn’t going to happen up here in the wilds of Montana. He owed it to her to get her out to a new place, a new community, where she could have her own life, not one shackled to her father.
Darnell suddenly frowned. He hadn’t seen his daughter all morning, and she had gone up the trail to see if she could spot one of the elks that they had seen a couple days past. It would be nice to eat something besides rabbits and fish with the occasional venison tossed in. He hoped she was okay.
Across the river he heard a small sound and looked to see a sparrow eyeballing him from one of the tree branches. He liked sparrows, they had an attitude about life he found amusing. Nothing seemed to bother them, and they fit in wherever they went.
Looking back up the trail, Darnell was reminded of the caravan that had gone through a week ago. The snow had completely covered their passing, and unless you had been here to see it, you never would have known.
Darnell walked further, passing by the campsite where they had spent their first night in this area. It was like a godsend, and Darnell was still amazed they had come as far as they had. If they hadn’t found the road, they surely would have died out there in the wild.
A cold blast of wind hit him in the face, and Darnell grimaced at the slap that had come all the way from Canada. It was bitter cold and smelled like snow. He’d have to remember to lay in an extra supply of firewood this evening. That wind also reminded him that Alison was still out there, and his focus now became figuring out what happened to his daughter.
“Alison!” Darnell called out. “Alison!”
He waited for a moment, then heard a reply.
“Dad! Up here! Help!”
Darnell ran towards the sound of Alison’s voice, his paternal instincts kicking into high gear as most fathers do when they hear their children in trouble. He fought his way through several large drifts and nearly lost his footing a few times, but he struggled on, calling out for his daughter.
“Where are you?” Tibbles yelled.
“Up here! Under Duck Tail rock!”
That helped. When they were scouting the area, Darnell made sure the two of them could reference where they were by landmarks. This particular one was a small rocky outcropping that looked like the rear end of a duck as it searched underwater for food.
Darnell reached the reference point and saw his daughter standing over a large bundle. He let out a sigh, and was about to scold his daughter for worrying him when she was perfectly capable of dragging her own kill back to the camp, when the bundle moved and an arm raised weakly.
“Holy shit!” Darnell exclaimed. The mountains echoed his statement in three places before it dissipated.
“I found him in the high pass just past Piano Rock,” Alison said.
Darnell did some mental math. “What the hell were you doing that far north?”
Alison pouted. “I was tracking an elk, and he was better at going through snow than I was.”
“No matter now.” Darnell looked at the man. He was about twenty years old and was dressed for war. He had a knife, a handgun, and a small axe. He wasn’t dressed for the cold, and there looked to be a hole in his coat. Darnell asked the man if he could walk, but the man had passed out.
“Well, I don’t know who his is, and I know every face in the settlement. He must have come from that group we saw drive by a week ago,” Darnell said.
“What do we do with him?” Alison said.
“Let’s get him to the cabin next to ours, and we’ll go from there. He may not make it, but we’ll try,” Darnell said. In truth, he didn’t think the boy had much of a chance.
“Go down to the cabin and get a fire going. I’ll bring him down as best I can,” Darnell said, handing Alison his bow and quiver.
“How are you going to do that? I barely got him here, and he was walking most of the time.” She asked.
“Leave that to me,” Darnell said. “Now get going.” He watched his daughter work her way down to the base of the mountain then turned back to the man on the ground. He spoke to the unconscious man.
“My friend, I get the feeling you are going to cause a lot of trouble,” Darnell said. He went over to large pine tree and cut away three branches with his hatchet. Taking them back to Duck Tail, he rolled the unconscious man onto the branches. It wasn’t the best travois he could make, but he was in a hurry. Grabbing the stick ends, he pulled the man down the hill and onto the road. Darnell kept to the track he and Alison had made, being easier than trying to make his own way through the snow again.
Darnell dragged the man up to the cabin next to his and Alison’s, and he was pleased to see smoke rising out of the chimney.
“Alison! I’m here! Help me with this guy, would you?” Darnell called. Alison came out and together they lifted the man off the makeshift sled and brought him inside. Alison had cleared a path and lay some bedding down near the stove that sent waves of heat across the room.
“Good job, sweetheart. Do me a favor while I get this man’s shirt off and start a pan of water heating. He may be wounded, and we’ll need to see what we can do,” Darnell said.
Alison left and Darnell began to work on getting the man’s clothes off. He removed the coat and weapons, and was working on the shirt, when he noticed the man’s eyes open.
They were cloudy and full of fever, and Darnell suddenly worried the man had been bitten by a zombie, but he relaxed when the man focused on Darnell’s face.
“T-trapped. We’re trapped in the c-canyon,” the man said weakly.
“Who is trapped? Your group?” Darnell asked. “What canyon?” Darnell figured he knew, but he could be wrong.
“Killed our l-leader. Dropped him over the edge.” The man snarled, and Darnell felt pity for the man who watched his commander die in such a fashion.
“Climbed out. They shot my partner. Shot me.” The man lay back, and Darnell quickly checked him over. Sure enough, there was a hole in the man’s back, right below his shoulder blade, leaking blood. How he had managed to get this far was a miracle by anyone’s religion.
“Rest easy, friend, we’ll do what we can,” Darnell said.
“I’m done. Find Talon. T-tell him where we are.” The man’s voice was weaker, more strained.
Darnell held the man’s hand. “Where is he?” he asked.
“South. Find Talon,” the man repeated and then slumped as he let out a long, rasping breath. He didn’t breathe in again.
Darnell shook his head. “You died well friend. Your commander would be proud of you.”
Alison spoke from the doorway. “He’s dead?”
Darnell nodded. “Sorry sweetheart. He was shot in the back. Must have filled his lung. No idea how he made it to Piano Rock.”
“We have to find Talon, whoever he is,” Alison said. “We have to! If Hobbes has those people trapped in the canyon and killed their leader, then he’ll kill them all if he gets the chance. He’ll do anything to protect his little kingdom!”
Darnell sat up straight. The word kingdom made it clear. Suddenly it made sense. The expanding fences, the consolidating of his power. Hobbes wasn’t looking to just survive, he was looking to start his own kingdom and give out land to the people on his side. Darnell had been half joking when he said monarchy to Luke Blacktail. If the group this man had belonged to had cleared out the Dakotas, then there were literally states up for grabs. Once entrenched, Hobbes would be hard to get out.
“You’re right. We have to. Let’s get this man buried. While I’m digging, you start putting some packs together. We have to find this Talon person,” Darnell said.
Darnell covered the man with the blanket and went outside to get a pick from the tool shed. The ground was hard and digging was going to be tough. A hundred things were racing through his mind, and none of it was good. He was going to leave his safe, comfortable life and head south in the winter, trying to find a man who might be ten states away.
Darnell shook his head. Why couldn’t things ever be easy? he thought. A sparrow on a nearby br
anch peeped at him, and Darnell shook his head.
“All right. All right. It’s not about me,” Darnell said to the sparrow.
The sparrow looked at him and then flew off, shaking a bunch of snow off the branch. Darnell looked at the pile of snow and shook his head again.
We’re going to need a truck, Darnell thought.
Nebraska, Southwestern Edge
We were three weeks into Nebraska and were getting ready to head south. The majority of the army was back in the area, and we were going to do a major push into Texas. The plan was to sweep around the eastern section, down through the southern, and then hit the western part. We’d cross back up into Colorado about the same time the army that was sweeping through the northern states would be heading south, and we all would meet in the middle of Colorado. By that time, the spring should be here and the zombies would be in thaw mode, and it would be a good time to head home and take care of business before the fall and the next part of the war.
For the record, January sucks in Nebraska. There is little to stop the wind and snow, and in some places we saw drifts that were fifteen to twenty feet deep. If there was a zombie under that he could just stay there until spring.
Charlie was doing fine, and for a while he was held in an even higher esteem than he already was. But after a while there came some grumbling, and a few openly said that he shouldn’t be giving orders, he should just go do the job himself since he was immune.
That stopped when I sent two of the loudest voices back to the capitol. I had them driven by a trusted friend, and he said he would make sure they got there and dropped off without any ceremony. I didn’t need crap like that.
I had spent the last two weeks recruiting, and I hoped it would be enough. The rumors of a massive horde had started again, and I said out loud that I hoped it was true and that we found it soon. In this weather we could kill a zombie with a tap from a ball peen hammer.
White Flag Of The Dead (Book 8): The Zombie Wars (The Enemy Within) Page 13