Zombie Rules (Book 4): Destiny

by Achord, David

  “How’s it going?”

  “Going good,” he replied. “Everyone has just checked in. No threats, no shenanigans.”

  “Good. Did everyone get to eat?”

  “Oh yeah, Justin took care of us.” He looked around. “That was some speech, huh?” I scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. Sergeant Smithson, I mean Lieutenant Smithson, has been chatting with them almost every evening. Well, not chatting, Morse code. I don’t know why he has to do it in code.”

  “Morse code can usually travel a greater distance with less chance of distortion.” The guard, the one called Goober, looked at me.

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  “Do you need me to spell you?”

  “Oh, no. I’m good. Thanks for asking though.”

  “Alright.” I went back in the church and was surprised to see a lot of messages already posted on the plywood. Floyd spotted me and walked over.

  “That was some speech, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Have you seen the gal I’ve been talking to?” he asked.

  “Yeah, her name’s Gigi, right?” Floyd nodded.

  “She’s something else,” he said with a big cheesy grin.

  “It looks like she likes you,” I said nonchalantly. Floyd looked at me wide-eyed. I thought he was going to wet himself.

  “Really?” I nodded. “Oh, golly. I thought maybe I was just imagining things. I like her too.”

  “Have you met her brother?” I asked. Floyd nodded.

  “He’s a big ‘un, ain’t he?” he asked. I chuckled. “Me and him have been talking about farming. They’ve got a spread over in Dickson.” As Floyd spoke, Big Country must have sensed we were talking about him. He ambled over while we were in mid-conversation.

  “Floyd says you have a farm in Dickson.” Big Country nodded his head and scratched at an unseen flea in his beard.

  “A couple hundred acres, give or take. Most of it’s for the cattle, the rest is for crops.”

  “Floyd’s a farmer by trade,” I said. “I’ve found him to be a wealth of knowledge, but these people here at the school don’t appreciate him.” Big Country seemed to take a moment digesting what I said and looked Floyd over.

  “I sure could use help around my place. How good are you with a bad arm?”

  “He works his ass off,” I proclaimed before Floyd could speak and I leaned forward a little. “Your sister seems to have taken a liking to him. You two aren’t in cahoots trying to steal our best farmer away from us, are you?” I asked with a grin. Big Country looked surprised at first, but when he realized I was kidding with him he slapped me on the back and let out a belly laugh that sounded like an off-pitch foghorn.

  I laughed along with him as I noticed an older man who was standing within earshot openly listening to us. He looked like he was in his late forties with a sunbaked face that only accentuated his gray eyes. I gave him a friendly nod, which he returned and walked over to us.

  “This is some shindig,” he said.

  “We aim to please,” I responded. “My name’s Zach, this is Floyd, and this here is Big Country.” He nodded at each of us.

  “Please to meet all of you. They call me Hillbilly.” I looked at him in surprise.

  “Hold on there, Mister Hillbilly. Have we had some talks with you over the HAM radio a time or two?”

  “One and the same,” he replied. “I’ve been meaning to get down this way for over a year now, but things always seemed to happen.” He looked around. “I don’t mean any offense, but I’d really like to meet Macie in person. We had a lot of pleasant conversations back in the day.”

  “Unfortunately, she was murdered by a scumbag,” I informed him. His features darkened.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said softly. “I hope you got the bastard who did it.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to rehash it, the memory was still painful, but when I realized he wanted to know more, I told him. Not the intimate details. Not the part where Macie told Julie and I how much she loved us as she lay there bleeding to death and all I could do was watch her die and how it tore me apart inside. Those were memories I was going to take to the grave.

  “So, you got them,” Hillbilly said when I’d finished.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, we’ve all lost people we care about.” He looked around, a little uncertain what to say. I pointed at Kelly, who was holding my daughter.

  “We kept her memory alive by naming my little girl after her.” His eyes lit up.

  “That’s wonderful,” he said. “You know, I brought a present for Macie, big Macie that is. I’d like to give it to your little girl, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure,” I replied. He turned and walked outside.

  “Who do I have to get permission from to drink a tad bit of alcoholic beverage around here?” Big Country asked loudly. “I got some fine Tennessee moonshine my sister’s brewed up just for the occasion.” Needless to say, several ears perked up.

  “I don’t know why you haven’t brought it out already,” I admonished goodheartedly.

  “I certainly need something after listening to that gasbag,” someone commented. Big Country held up a hand.

  “Say no more. I’ll be right back.” He meandered outside in much the same way all big men walked.

  I turned back to the boards and saw Big Country’s wife had written down they had several bushels of peanuts, which was awesome.

  “I haven’t had any fresh peanuts in quite a while,” I mused. She grinned.

  “You got any horses to trade? We could use a couple.”

  “There are plenty around here, but they haven’t been ridden in a while.”

  “Julie is a genuine horse whisperer,” Gigi said. “She’s amazing.” I looked at them with a smile.

  “How many do you want?” Before we got down to specifics, Kelly walked up with Macie and a little puppy. Both of them were all smiles.

  “Look what Hillbilly gave to the kids.”

  “I hope that’s okay with you,” Hillbilly said to me. I nodded.

  “What kind is it?”

  “Mostly German Shepherd. If you mind her diet and don’t let her get fat, she won’t have hip problems when she gets older.”

  “What are we going to name her?” Kelly asked. I shrugged my shoulders. I had an idea, but I didn’t think Kelly would let me name her Moe.

  “I’ve been calling her Zoe, after my late daughter,” Hillbilly answered. “Of course, she’s still young enough if you want to change it.”

  “No, I like Zoe,” I said. Kelly nodded in agreement. “Zoe it is.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice you’re not drinking.” After Big Country brought out the moonshine, people became friendlier and louder. I sat politely and listened to everyone tell their stories, trying my hardest to commit them to memory so I could write them down later. Hillbilly sat nearby, equally quiet.

  “What?” I asked. “Oh, yeah, I hardly ever drink,” I said. “We have some wine stored away for special occasions, but that’s it. No moonshine for me.” Big Country nodded in understanding and looked at Hillbilly as he held up a jug.

  “What about you, friend?”

  “I don’t drink either. I’m an alcoholic.” I looked at him curiously. He saw me looking, smiled, and held up three fingers.

  “Scout’s honor. I’ve been sober three thousand, four hundred and twenty-two days now.”

  “That’s a little over nine years,” I said. “Very impressive.”

  “Thank you. I fell in love and she made me see the light, how about you?”

  “When I was old enough to understand, my grandmother sat me down and told me how my parents were killed. Short answer, my father was driving drunk. She said he’d had a drinking problem for years. I’ve read some articles in journals that said alcoholism could be genetic, so I try to abstain.” Hillbilly nodded.

  “Both my father and grandfather were boozers, so there may be
some truth in that article.”

  “You don’t talk like a hillbilly,” I remarked. Hillbilly laughed.

  “Make no mistake, I’m a hillbilly through and through. I grew up in the mountains and have been farming all my life, but I was also a high school history teacher back in the day.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who was the greatest president of all time?” I challenged. Hillbilly eyed at me with a wry grin.

  “I’ve got four of them. Washington, Polk, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. Theodore, not Franklin.” I frowned.

  “I’m with you on three of them, but why Polk?”

  “Because he’s the last president that kept all of his campaign promises. He only made four, but he kept every one of them.” I laughed.

  “I bet you were a great teacher.”

  “I’d like to think so. I’m guessing you were still in school when it all went bad?”

  “Yep.”

  “What was your favorite subject?” His question started a conversation between us that lasted well into the night.

  We didn’t get home until after eleven. The kids had never stayed up this late and had fallen asleep in the truck before we had even exited the school parking lot. When we got home, they didn’t even stir as we carried them into the house. I got Zoe to do her business in the yard before carrying her inside and stuck her in the bed with the kids. She licked my hand, snuggled up between the two of them, and closed her eyes.

  “It seems to be going pretty good,” Kelly said as we undressed and crawled into bed. “Even Miss Bitch had good things to say.” She was referring to Janet, of course.

  “It is, for the most part.”

  “What do you mean?” Kelly asked as she yawned.

  “We’re going to trade a few horses for some bushels of peanuts, but to be honest, there’s not much else being offered that we have a need for.” Kelly responded by emitting a tired groan.

  “I know, I’m being negative. It’s going good. I guess I’m just tired.” If we had any further conversation on the subject, I don’t know. I fell sound asleep.

  Chapter 33 – Day Two

  I awoke well before sunup, left a note for Kelly, and hurried to the church. Everyone was still asleep, even the guards, with one exception. Hillbilly. I found him in the kitchen area.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he replied. “Where’s your family?”

  “I let them sleep in. I imagine they’ll be here in about an hour or so.” I thought about Janet. She’d not yet met Hillbilly and wondered how she was going to act once she did.

  “I took the liberty of looking over the kitchen and I have some coffee percolating on that fancy wood stove made out of scrap metal. Who made that?”

  “You’d be surprised. Tonya.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “She’s a pretty smart woman,” I grudgingly said. “She’ll never win an award for Miss Congeniality, but she’s smart.” Hillbilly nodded in understanding.

  “By the way, thanks again for the dog.”

  “How’s she fitting in?”

  “She slept with the kids. I took her out shortly after I woke up. She did her business and then scampered back to their bedroom and waited for me to put her in.” Hillbilly smiled.

  “That’s good.”

  “Awfully quiet around here. Is anyone else awake yet?”

  “I don’t think so. Even those two guards in the sniper towers are sound asleep.” I looked at him in surprise. He smiled and rummaged through the cabinets until he found two mugs.

  “Were they that easy to spot?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. The towers themselves are very well-camouflaged. It’s your personnel. They were a little tipsy last night and argued over which towers they wanted to sit in, right in front of everyone.” I mentally went over the guard roster and settled on Cutter and Shooter. Figures. I looked at my watch.

  “They were supposed to be relieved an hour ago. I guess their relief is drunk and passed out as well.”

  “Alcohol does some amazing things to people,” Hillbilly commented glibly.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Good thing we didn’t have any problems.”

  “Yep,” he answered, checked the pot of water, and began spooning coffee grounds.

  “This is what’s called cowboy coffee. I was reluctant to fire up the generator just to use a percolator, so we’re going to have to settle for this.”

  “Cowboy coffee?” I asked.

  “Yep. What you do is boil water in a pot and then throw the coffee in. Let it boil for a few minutes and then use a spoon to scoop off the grounds floating on the top. Some folks throw a little bit of cold water in and the grounds sink to the bottom, but I do it this way.” He finished scooping and poured us two mugs.

  “Thank you, sir.” It was stale, as usual, and I detected a few grounds that Hillbilly missed, but I liked it. God forbid the day when I had to go without caffeine.

  “What’s the plan for the day?” Hillbilly asked.

  “Hopefully, there’ll be more trading and socializing. As for me, I’m going to be helping Big Country. There’s a fancy horse farm not far from here. The owner, who must have been a bazillionaire, had at least a couple hundred head of varying breeds. After, they were being cared for by a man named Bo, but he’s disappeared and the horses have scattered everywhere.” I took a sip, and hooked a thumb at the direction of the farm.

  “I’ve worked a deal with Big Country to trade a few horses for some bushels of peanuts. We just have to round them up.” Hillbilly digested what I said in silence while he drank his coffee and refilled our mugs before speaking.

  “If you don’t mind, I believe I’d like to tag along,” he finally said.

  “You’re more than welcome. I hope you have experience with horses.”

  “I do,” he said simply. I figured he did. The man was rugged looking, a no nonsense kind of guy with big, rawboned hands every bit as calloused as Big Country’s.

  We continued with a quiet conversation while other people awakened and made their way to the kitchen. I liked the man. His demeanor was so much like Fred’s they could have been brothers. Sarah and Rachel came in together and accepted our offer of coffee. Both women thanked us and I think I even caught them both eyeing Hillbilly a little bit longer than just a casual glance.

  “Why don’t you two sit with us,” I suggested after I’d made introductions.

  “Sarah and Rachel are military,” I said to Hillbilly. “Sarah is a pilot in the Air Force and Rachel in in the Army.” I thought a second. “I don’t really know what you originally did in the Army.”

  “I was an exotic dancer,” Rachel said with a straight face. Hillbilly stared at her before she burst out laughing. “Gotcha.” Hillbilly smiled then.

  “Yes, you did,” he admitted.

  “I was a Forty-Six Quebec, which is the Army’s way of saying Public Affairs Specialist.” Hillbilly nodded.

  “I could see you being on television.” Rachel blew a tuft of hair out of her eyes.

  “I never got that far. I only wrote articles for the base commander and occasionally give him a blow job.” She waited for a long five seconds.

  “Gotcha.”

  “Alright, sugar plum,” Big Country said to his wife, “which one are we gonna take first?” Julie was wearing jeans and boots this morning with a tight-fitting tee shirt, sans bra, and a Stetson cowboy hat. She looked around and pointed at a big stallion.

  “He’s a good one. I bet he has lineage.” I had no idea about that, he was big though, and since he’d had no human contact in a while, he was going to be a handful.

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s spread out, separate him from the others, and maneuver him to a corner. With any luck, we’ll be able to rope him without too much fuss.” Big Country held up a meaty hand.

  “Hold on there, friend,” he said. “We all are gonna just sit tight and let my beautiful wife work her magic.”

  “Uh, okay,” I said and glanced over at Hillbilly. He glanced back
and made a slight shrug with his shoulders.

  We watched as Julie separated herself from us and walked out into the field with nothing more than a halter and a rope. All of the horses were grazing, but they stopped and looked at her curiously. She ignored all of them but the big stallion. He looked at her for a moment and then went back to grazing. After a full ten minutes, he looked at her again. Julie produced something from her pocket and held it out.

  “She’s got a cube of sugar,” Gigi whispered to us. I noticed Floyd was standing a little closer to her than normal and smiled to myself. “Horses can’t resist her when she does this.” I nodded in semi-understanding and wondered where they got cubed sugar from. The big horse stared at her in apprehension, but within a minute he started making his way toward her. The others followed his lead and soon had her surrounded, nudging her for her attention. We watched raptly as the big horse became a big baby in her hands as she stroked and cooed him. Within a minute, she had the halter around his head and tethered a lead to it. She walked him to the horse trailer and gently guided him in without breaking a sweat.

  “Ain’t that something?” Gigi asked. Hillbilly and I nodded in agreement. Afterward, she walked back to us and pointed out three more.

  “I like those three mares. That big stud has already impregnated them, I’m betting. Is that okay with you, Zach?” she asked.

  “Yeah, fine by me. Let me ask you, are you going to keep them in the trailer?”

  “Oh, no,” Big Country interjected. “We’ve got some barb wire. I’m going to rig up a temporary pen until time to leave.”

  “Okay, great. So, yeah, the ones you picked out are just fine.”

  “We’re much obliged,” Big Country said gratefully.

  “That woman sure has a way with horses,” Hillbilly commented as we rode back to the church.

  “A horse whisperer, just like that movie with Robert Redford,” I said. He nodded in agreement. “But much prettier,” I added. Hillbilly smile slightly.

  “I couldn’t help but notice, there aren’t any zombies around here.” I nodded and gave him the Reader’s Digest version of our eradication efforts.