Plague War (Book 3): Retaliation

by Hodge, Alister

  He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he realized not only had they walked by his location but also the trees that hid Hector and Taron.

  They were not safe yet, however.

  As the day robbed them of their sight, their other senses became keener. The rumble of the post-human masses grew around them. The woods were full, teeming with the undead.

  “We need to get back to the shelter. We don’t have the gear with us to camp, and I don’t fancy our chances of just strolling around all night,” Taron said as the three men stood together once more.

  “Which way?” Hector asked, his voice showing the strains of the day.

  While they had been working on the shelter for years, having found each other via online survivalist forums, they had not spent enough time mapping out the forest. They knew the trails and knew which way would lead them to what the fastest, but that was a different skill than finding your way through the trees under the cover of darkness.

  “Well, we followed the trail to the river that’s now to the southwest of us. The camp should be to the east or thereabouts. I guess about thirty or forty minutes if we keep a good pace and don’t come across any more posties,” Taron answered, almost without pausing for thought.

  “Why am I not surprised you know all that,” Hector said, his gruff exterior cracking in the prolonged company of his two friends.

  “I just have a natural sense of direction,” Taron answered. “You know, the same way you have a natural sense of justice and … oh, wait, you don’t.”

  The joke helped to relieve their stress levels a little, but silence soon fell among the group again as they set off through the trees.

  When they first decided to set up a shelter, in the event of a world-ending crisis, they chose the spot in the forest for several reasons. One was the way the trees kept everything neatly secluded. Going off the trails would easily get someone lost unless they knew the area well enough.

  The patch they had found was a natural clearing, which over the years they had thinned a little bit more. The shelter’s primary entrance was on higher ground. They had the river within reach, which could be filtered and used for water, meaning their stores could be stretched even longer.

  It took them several years to get it to the point where they first tried it out, spending a few days there, trapped with each other for company. The first couple of runs were awkward experiences, but they soon got into a rhythm and bonded with each other in ways regular friends in the world at that time rarely did.

  Vanessa did not always join them, for James was a sickly child, and it was agreed by all that for the sake of the trials, it was not worth the risk of furthering whatever illness he had at the time.

  While the main bulk of the initial post-human herd had moved through, there were enough hanging around to make their journey home a longer one than any had anticipated.

  Hector all but walked into the arms of an overly affectionate older woman, her lipless face intent on kissing the inside of Hector’s throat. She appeared from behind a tree, nearly jumping out like a child looking to scare her friends.

  Henry reacted the quickest, not risking a strike with the knife, for fear of injuring his friend, but rather he shoved the amorous woman backward hard enough to create the distance needed for Taron to end her second attempt at life.

  The blade silenced her growls with a slick wet sound, and while the darkness consumed her the moment she fell silent, they all heard the liquefied contents of her skull spill through the wound; dripping on the leaves like a leaking faucet.

  The trio reached and crossed their perimeter defenses and felt a surge of relief at making it home in one piece. This was quashed the instant they saw the zeds milling around what equated to their front yard.

  The remains of the doe had been spread around, the carcass stripped bare of the meat, while thick congealed lumps of its innards lay scattered in various stages of consumption.

  The group did not hear the men approach, but the scent of fresh meat alerted them before any attack could happen.

  “Today just isn’t our day, is it?” Hector said as he pulled out two knives from his weapons belt.

  “I’m fucking tired of this. I want some food and a good night of sleep,” Henry snapped in a rare burst of temper.

  Grabbing his rifle, he fired four times. The soft plop of the gun and the muted bursting of the heads he targeted provided little in the way of stress relief, but he could not deny feeling better. Taron disposed of the other two zeds, his crossbow an even quieter weapon than Henry’s suppressed rifle.

  “Hey, no fair.” Hector jabbed Taron with his elbow.

  “Quit it, man, not tonight. Jesus Christ,” Henry said, storming off toward the shelter.

  “What got him so wound up?” Hector asked, kicking the closest downed zed in the head with his boot.

  “Well, I can think of a few things, but why don’t we save that for the morning,” Taron answered, slapping his buddy on the shoulder.

  Hector held back for a while, watching as the others reached the shelter and hammered on the door. Looking around, he stared at the bodies on the floor. Crouching down, he pulled the two arrows out of the skulls of Taron’s victims. “They still don’t get it,” he said to the corpse, whose lifeless eyes stared at him, the mouth pulled back into a snarl as if even in true death, the hunger still lingered.

  With the arrows clutched in one hand, Hector rose and followed after the others. The woods were still alive with the growl of post-humans. In the distance, the fire still raged, and the city that lay beyond it was plunged into darkness.

  Vanessa opened the door on her husband’s signal, wiping her eyes dry on her shirt. She knew it would not help. Terror consumed her the moment the zeds swept into the camp. She understood why they had not gotten in contact; it was not safe. That did not stop her from being afraid. She spent the day weeping through fear of what would happen if Henry died. She imagined James growing up without a father, her without a husband. The grief had been paralyzing.

  Taking a deep breath, gathering herself, she opened the door. The moment her eyes met her husband’s, her resolve broke and the tears came back with a vengeance.

  “I thought you were dead,” she wept, embracing her husband, melting into his embrace.

  “It was close at times,” he answered, kissing his wife on the cheek. “Where’s James, is he safe? Are you?”

  “He’s asleep. He was worried about you,” Vanessa answered, looking down toward the bedroom area.

  “I’ll go wake up him and let him know I’m safe,” Henry answered, giving his wife a final kiss before he walked away into the shelter.

  Vanessa, watching him go, turned just as Taron appeared in the doorway. They smiled at each other. “Come here, you,” Vanessa said, pulling the doctor into a deep hug. “Where’s Hector?”

  “Oh, he’s alive, but just dragging behind. He enjoyed himself a little too much out there,” Taron said, detecting a slight trace of disappointment on Vanessa’s face.

  It was no secret that Vanessa was not overly fond of Hector, but she understood the need to have him around. His callous approach to life completed their group. From the homesteader, the brains, and the surgeon, they had everything covered to live. Having the cold-hearted way of the lawyer meant they had what it took to survive.

  ZPOC: The Beginning is available from Amazon here!