“Wow, sounds nice.”
“I suppose,” he said and quickly changed the subject.
“Well, what do you think is wrong with it?” We were standing around in a loose group, staring at the van’s engine.
“Gas,” Josue answered plainly. I nodded at him. I liked how the man could say in one word what could be said in one word.
“Yep,” I answered. “Regular gasoline only has a viable shelf life of about a year. We’ve been lucky it’s lasted this long.”
“Are we leaving it?” Seth asked.
“Yeah, we have to,” I replied. “It’d take the rest of the day to clean out the fuel lines.” Justin scowled at the van a moment and then spoke up.
“Alright everyone, no need standing around here staring at it. Unload your stuff and split it among the other vehicles.” One of them, Earl I think, sighed deeply.
“I guess we should thank you for bringing extras,” he finally said. Yeah, I seem to remember a couple of them wondering about my logic with that and this would have been a good time to point that out and say something witty like, ‘I told you so’ but I didn’t. I guess I was getting more mature.
It was going to take some time to get everything sorted out and my stomach had been rumbling for several minutes, telling me I better not hold off very much longer.
“I’ve got to make a visit to the little boy’s room,” I told Justin.
“You need me to go with you?”
“Nope, I like a little privacy when I do my business. I won’t be long.”
“Be careful,” Justin said and went back to helping unload the van.
I told Kelly the same thing before fast walking off the Interstate where a lone, dilapidated building stood. Quickly looking around to ensure I was alone, I set my weapons against a wall. Making sure my half a roll of toilet paper was handy, I dropped my pants and squatted. Within seconds, I heard something coming up from behind me. Before I could squeeze my butt cheeks and stand, I was bumped on the shoulder. Startled, I turned quickly, only to see that goofy ass dog, holding a well-used tennis ball in his mouth and looking at me the way all dogs do when they want to play.
“Damn it, Callahan, I’m right in the middle of something here.” He panted and sat, dropping the ball at my feet, indicating he was more than willing to wait but I should certainly hurry.
“Damn dog,” I grumbled and settled back into position. I was lost in my thoughts, wondering what the heck I’d eaten which was now causing me so much discomfort, and right at that joyful moment of voiding my bowels, Callahan suddenly stood, emitted a short bark and ran back behind me, bumping me clumsily as he passed by. Someone was coming.
“Why in the heck can’t I get any privacy?” I muttered and was about to unleash my displeasure with whoever was approaching when I heard that distinctive raspy snarl.
The bastard emerged from around the side of the building and lunged at me. I managed to roll to my side, not an easy thing to do with my pants to my knees and the paperwork not complete, if you know what I mean. The zombie stumbled into my fresh organic deposit before righting himself by flinging his arms up, causing shit to fly everywhere. Somehow, I managed to get to my machete and make short work of him.
“Where the hell did you come from?” I rhetorically asked and looked around for others before inspecting myself.
“Shit,” I muttered, not realizing I was making a pun, and tried the best I could to clean myself up. In the end, I sacrificed the rest of my toilet paper, a decent pair of underwear and a half a canteen of water. During all of this, Callahan kept picking up his ball and tossing it at my feet. I was tempted to toss that damn ball as far into woods as I could, but with my luck he would have brought a bunch of zombies back with him.
“Some help you were, you little bastard,” I said, picked up the slobbery ball and tossed it in the direction of the caravan.
And so, we were down another vehicle. After Julie’s death, I’d developed a special fondness for that van. Whenever I looked at it, it reminded me of her and how the two of us had discovered it. It was like our first date, our first real day together. I hated to leave it. Maybe I’d come back and get it one day. They had finished up repacking everything and after everyone had taken their own restroom breaks Justin gave the command to mount up, but before anyone could act, Sarah spoke up.
“We’ve got movement coming down the interstate from the north.” I looked quickly down the northbound lane. There were five to ten of them, moving toward us at a loping run, snarling loudly as they got closer.
“Get the kids secure!” I yelled at Janet, who didn’t have to be told twice.
“They’re danger close!” Justin shouted. That meant we were to shoot the front ranks first. I picked the one heading straight toward me and made a clean headshot as the others opened fire. We dispatched them quickly and efficiently, and were about to congratulate ourselves when Jorge yelled.
“Nine o’clock, ten more at fifty feet!” I swung around just in time. Two of them were moving quick and got to within ten feet before I could shoot them. Jorge and Josue made quick work of them just as another one emerged out from behind a burned-out Mercedes. Josue took careful aim and hit him right between the eyes. His son grinned and gave him a pat on the back. When it was over with, we consolidated and caught our breaths.
“Alright, how about a quick debriefing,” Justin directed.
“I believe they just tried a flanking maneuver on us,” Seth surmised. “They’re getting rather clever.”
“If they ever figure out how to use weapons, we’re really going to have our hands full,” Sheila added.
“At least they can’t procreate,” Rachel said and then snapped her fingers. “I bet all of the zombie men’s dicks have rotted off and the women’s woo-hoos have withered up…” She stopped as Sarah gave her a withering stare. Everyone else began laughing and soon even Sarah couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head and grinning.
It was midafternoon when we rolled into the outskirts of Bristol. It was once a quaint southern city with a population somewhere around thirty-five thousand. Now, it was like every other city across the world; bleak, dismal-looking, a cancerous shell of what it once was. As we slowly travelled along Interstate 81, we saw nothing unusual. Abandoned, wrecked, burned vehicles, overgrown plant life, disintegrating and cracking asphalt was the norm. Even so, I used Kelly’s camera to take a few photos.
“Mother Nature is taking back her planet,” Janet quipped. “It’s not all daisies and lollipops anymore.” I looked at her quizzically. It was rare that Janet joked around anymore. She saw me looking and grinned. “Now it’s just rotten peters and withered woo-hoos.”
“Look at that,” Kelly said, pointing out of the window. There was a large commercial plane wreck just to the side of the interstate. The surrounding area around it indicated a large fire had taken place and all of the surrounding vegetation was still dead.
“Do you think there’re any survivors here?” she asked. I took another photograph.
“I see several cars that looked like they’ve been searched, so yeah, probably.”
I retrieved the mike.
“Come in, Seth.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you guys have any contact with anyone in this area on your way through?” He’d already answered the question back when we talked about it in Nolensville, but I wanted confirmation.
“That’s negative,” Seth answered. “I don’t see any changes either.” Jorge interrupted excitedly.
“Man, I see somebody right now!” Kelly looked at me in surprise as I grabbed the microphone, but before I could speak, Justin jumped in and immediately called a halt to the convoy. Jorge sped back to us without waiting to be told to and skidded to a stop. I jumped out as soon as Kelly got the truck stopped. Justin and Seth jogged up to us as Jorge pulled his helmet off and began speaking excitedly.
“It’s a man sitting on the side of the interstate. He’s beside a van that has the side doors open and a trailer b
ehind it. I don’t see anyone else.”
Shooter and Cutter, not wanting to be left out, ran up and joined us and demanded Jorge repeat what he had just told us.
“I was about a hundred yards away when I spotted him. He was just sitting there, and then he waved at me, man. Is that bad?” Justin grunted and lowered the binoculars.
“Looks like just one man,” he said. “Hard to tell. The van he’s sitting by has the side door open and it’s full of stuff. What do you think, Zach?” Justin asked as he handed the binoculars to me. We were at a straight, level area of the interstate, very few derelict cars, and the man was about two hundred yards away, sitting without a seeming care in the world. As I watched, he stood up, gave us a wave, and then dropped a piece of paper, seemingly by accident. He looked at it and pointed at it with a stiff arm for a few seconds before picking it up. I smiled grimly as the memory of Rick teaching me that very same trick came to mind.
“Giving the wind speed and direction, huh buddy,” I muttered and started scanning.
“Did you say something, Zach?” Justin asked. I focused back on the man, who casually sat back down and scratched his beard. Yeah, he reminded me a little of Rick.
“What’re you thinking, Zach?” Justin pressed. I handed his binoculars back to him.
“It looks like he came up from an access road. Since there’s nobody else on the interstate, I’d say he’s here specifically for us.” Justin digested what I said.
“Our route takes us right past him. Seems only prudent we should introduce ourselves,” he commented idly. I thought a moment.
“Why don’t you two keep the group rock steady and I’ll ride up with Jorge and introduce ourselves.”
“I’ll keep him in my sights in case he tries anything,” Cutter declared.
“Oh, no, don’t do that,” I responded quickly. “I’d suggest not doing anything that might be considered threatening.”
“Why’s that?” Shooter demanded to know. I looked at him as I got on the bike with Jorge.
“Because he has at least one sniper deployed, maybe more.” Justin frowned at my statement and started scanning the area again as Jorge and I rode off.
“Been waiting on you fellas for the past hour,” he said as soon as Jorge cut the engine. He was casually sitting on a folding chair under one of those big picnic table umbrellas. Justin was right; he could have been forty or fifty. It was hard to tell with his thick beard, mirrored sunglasses and bandanna tied around his head they way bikers do. A braided ponytail snaked out of the back of it and ended an inch or two below his shoulder blades.
“Yeah, we’re a little slow moving today,” I responded as I got off of the bike and stood before him. “My name’s Zach and this is my friend, Jorge.” The man stood easily and offered a closed fist for a fist bump rather than shaking hands. Jorge and I responded in kind. His smile was pleasant, showing a healthy set of teeth, but his wariness was evident.
“I’m Joe, Trader Joe.” His manner was casual, although I’m sure he was just as suspicious of us as we were of him. He pointed at his van and the flat trailer behind it. “And this is my mobile trading post.”
“So, I’m guessing you saw our convoy and thought you could do a little business.”
“You are guessing correctly, my friend.” He motioned toward a dry erase board leaning against the van before swinging his arms again.
“I’ve written down today’s specials. If you see something you like, point it out and tell me what you’ve got to trade for.” I looked at him a moment as he smiled good-naturedly. The list, written in small but neat block lettering, filled the entire board, candles, cookware, canteens, hand tools, but all of it was stuff we either had or didn’t need. Not surprisingly, there were no essentials like toilet paper listed. He must have sensed it in my expression.
“Like I said, I don’t have everything listed. If there’s anything in particular you’ve got an itching for…” he finished with a wave of his hand toward the contents of his van. At his urging, I stepped closer and peered inside. One item jumped out at me immediately. He had bananas, several of them. I pointed.
“Are those real?” I asked. He grinned again, this time like a fisherman who’d just hooked a trophy bass.
“They most certainly are, grew ‘em myself.” I didn’t know how he was able to grow bananas in this climate, but didn’t really care. They looked mouthwatering.
“They’re for sale,” he continued, “but they ain’t going to be cheap. A case of ammo ought to do it, any caliber is fine.” I frowned at him. His smile continued.
“Mister Joe, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to bring my people up. We’re friendly enough and will police our own if there are any transgressions, okay?”
“Sure thing, friend.”
“Good, please let your snipers know.” His smile tightened for a microsecond, but it relaxed again as he once more casually slapped his hands. Jorge and I rode back to the group, who had mostly all gathered around the armored vehicle while Josue provided rear security.
I looked around, trying to make it seem casual, and after a minute I spotted what I was looking for, a slight mound in the bushes directly perpendicular to where our armored vehicle was parked.
“Damn,” I muttered, wondering what the odds would be that we’d stopped our convoy precisely at the point where Joe’s sniper was hiding.
“What?” Jorge asked.
“Nothing,” I responded and waited for him to stop the bike before jumping off. Once he killed the engine, I addressed everyone.
“Alright, his name’s Joe and he’s running a makeshift trading post. He’s got a few things, but he’s being totally unrealistic in his valuation.” I explained about the bananas and what he demanded in trade.
“So, my suggestion is, we ride up, exchange pleasantries, and then move on.” Seth started to say something, but stopped when Raymond raised his hand.
“Ah, Zach, let’s not be so hasty about riding off without trying to do some business. Do you know who’re the best salesmen in the world?” he asked and then answered his own question. “Politicians of course, and I’ve been around the best of them and the worst of them most of my life.” He looked around at all of us.
“My parents were career diplomats with the state department. If I may be so bold, let me do the haggling, I guarantee we’ll come out ahead. Now, tell me, what do we have that we’d be willing to trade those bananas for?” I thought for a moment.
“Since our makeshift refrigerator went tits up, those steaks are not going to last very much longer. And, of course, we have plenty of honey and beeswax.” Raymond smiled gleefully in anticipation.
“Perfect. Leave it to me and we’ll all be eating bananas within the hour.”
“He is a pretty good bullshitter,” Sheila commented. Her husband guffawed in agreement.
“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Seth said.
“I haven’t eaten a banana in, well shit, since I was in a banana-eating contest at a strip club outside of Fort Polk,” Rachel remarked. There was some light laughter as Sarah looked at her questioningly. It was decided.
“Alright, Raymond, let’s see what you can do.” I motioned to Seth. “Let me borrow those binoculars for a minute, if you don’t mind.” Seth looked at me inquisitively as he handed them to me.
“Something else going on?” he asked.
“I’m going to give Sammy an impromptu training lesson,” I replied and motioned for Sammy to follow me. “Y’all go ahead; Sammy and I will be there in a few.” I got a couple of curious looks, but everyone except Seth loaded up and moved the convoy down the hundred yards to where Trader Joe was patiently waiting for us.
“Okay, curiosity has gotten the best of me. You mind if I sit in on this training?” he asked with a grin.
“Sure.” I waited until everyone left and then gestured at Sammy.
“Take these binoculars, look down that way and tell me what you see,” I directed in a low voice. He brought the binoculars u
p to his eyes and peered down the interstate.
“I see that Trader Joe man and his van, and everyone gathering around him. He’s giving everyone fist bumps; I guess he doesn’t like shaking hands.”
“Okay, describe him.”
“Uh, well, he’s older. He’s white, he’s got a beard that has a lot of gray in it.”
“How tall is he?”
“I can’t tell.”
“That van he’s standing beside is a full-size van. A full-size van is about seven feet tall. Use it as a reference. Now, how tall is he?”
“Six feet?”
“Yep. Now, how far away from us is he?” Sammy bit his lower lip as he continued staring through the binoculars. He finally lowered them and looked at me in confusion.
“Remember when I showed you how to estimate distances by imagining the length of a football field?” He nodded in sudden understanding. “How many football fields away are we?”
“Maybe two?” he answered uncertainly.
“Not bad, not bad at all. Now, here’s something else to look at.” I pointed back down the interstate. “Do you see that orange rock lying on the side of the road about halfway down?” He nodded. “It kind of seems odd looking, doesn’t it? A rock with bright orange paint on it, sitting out there all by itself.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good. Now, if you look close you’ll see a little flag tied on that CB antenna on the van and another one tied onto the top of his umbrella.”
“Yeah, I see them,” Sammy replied. “The wind is pretty gusty today.”
“We’ve talked about this before, right?” Sammy nodded in understanding.
“That flags shows a sniper where the wind is blowing from.”
“And what about the orange rock?” He furrowed his brow in confusion and looked at it again with the binoculars. I gave him a hint.
“How far away is that orange rock from us?”
“Halfway?”
“Yep, so how far is that?”
“A hundred yards.” You could see the wheels turning in his head before his face lit up in understanding.
“Someone put that rock there as a distance marker.” He looked through the binoculars again. “And there’s another one a hundred yards on the other side of Mister Joe.”
Zombie Rules (Book 4): Destiny Page 42