Surviving the Dead 03: Warrior Within

by James N. Cook

  The mayor beamed as the crowd broke into enthusiastic applause. She directed her smile at Steve for a moment, who flushed ever so slightly and smiled back, giving a single nod.

  The mayor continued, “As we speak, there is an Army transport helicopter coming this way to make the first of several supply drops we’ll be receiving over the next few days. It should be getting here within the hour, and Sheriff Elliott will be organizing a volunteer work crew to help sort everything out and get it where it needs to go. Now I know y’all are honest folks, but I still have to remind you that everything in those transports is city property and should be treated as such. Once again, I want to thank each and every one of you for your support and hard work, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the day.”

  The mayor stepped back from the microphone, flashing her dazzling white smile and waving at the applauding townsfolk. I didn’t know if the warmth and sincerity she radiated was genuine, or if it was an affectation, but the townspeople certainly bought it. Her charisma was undeniable, and I could certainly see why she inspired confidence. But I was still reserving judgment.

  She was, after all, a politician.

  *****

  When the helicopter arrived, it was every bit as spectacular as Steve had promised. A massive twin-rotor CH-47 Chinook, machine guns bristling from the side ports, and two impossibly large bundles of cargo dangling underneath, it roared over the treetops in a maelstrom of wind and flying debris to deposit its cargo before flying away and touching down in an open patch of field.

  As it landed, I walked over to where Steve stood near the now empty podium. His expression was placid, as though watching a gigantic helicopter flit delicately about the market square was the most normal thing in the world. For a guy like him, maybe it was.

  “Question for you,” I said.

  “Shoot.”

  I pointed at the helicopter. “Where the hell did they get fuel for that thing?”

  “Strategic reserves would be my guess,” Steve said. “Treated and stored properly, just about any kind of aviation fuel can last for over a decade.”

  That shook a memory loose, and I vaguely recalled something I read in college about strategic oil reserves. Possibilities began to swirl.

  “Any idea where they keep it?”

  He shrugged. “The government had about as many doomsday plans as Washington had lobbyists. There’s shit stashed all over the country. Supposedly, the President and the Joint Chiefs know where all of it is, but they’ve only recovered a fraction of it.”

  I paused to consider that for a moment. If the government could provide us with tanks and air support, what did that mean for the fight against the Free Legion?

  “Come on,” Steve said, motioning me forward. “Got some people I want you to meet.”

  The drone of the helicopter’s engine had faded from a high, keening whine to a lower, more tolerable pitch. The massive twin rotors slowed, no longer kicking up blinding clouds of dust and debris. Six figures exited from the open door on the side facing us, marching purposefully toward Steve.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Sheriff Elliott and Mayor Stone break off from the crowd and trot to catch up with us. Steve set a quick pace, and we managed to reach the newcomers before they caught up.

  Three of the men looked like regular Army grunts, but battle-hardened ones. They strode forward with the casual confidence of veterans, handling their carbines with practiced ease. Walking in front of them was a tall, stone-faced man with eyes like granite and a shiny silver star pinned to his hat. Strangely, he looked familiar. I could have sworn I’d seen him before.

  Behind him, quietly blending into the background, were two men in black fatigues with large, square cases strapped to their backs. One was tall and lean, with a nose like a hawk’s beak and sharp, vaguely Asian features that spoke of Native American ancestry. The other man was shorter, broad shouldered, and had a face like a cinder block, all square lines and blunt angles.

  Steve snapped a salute to the man with the star on his hat, who returned his salute and reached out to shake Steve’s hand when he drew near.

  “Good to see you again, McCray,” he said.

  “Good to see you too, General. How was the trip?”

  The older man grimaced. “I thought the ‘Ghan was the shittiest shit I’d ever have to suffer through. Fate has once again conspired to prove me wrong.”

  Steve grinned. “Sir, this is Eric Riordan, the man I spoke to you about earlier. Eric, this is General Phillip Jacobs. He’s in charge of Special Operations Command.”

  The old soldier snorted. “Such as it is these days. Pleased to meet you, young man.”

  I shook his hand and looked him in the eye. General Jacobs had a strong grip and a firm, steady gaze with just a faint glimmer of mischief hiding in the background. I liked him immediately.

  “Likewise, general,” I said.

  “Call me Phil.” His eyes shifted to a point behind me, and I turned to see the sheriff approaching with Mayor Stone close behind. The mayor’s body was doing all kinds of interesting things under her low-cut dress as she jogged toward us, and the effect was not lost on the men around me.

  “Welcome to Hollow Rock,” she said, stopping in front of General Jacobs and flashing that heart-stopping smile. “I’m Mayor Elizabeth Stone, and this old fellow here is Sheriff Walter Elliott. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  The general took her hand, simultaneously trying to rip his eyes up from her cleavage. “Well, Mayor, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” he said.

  “You must be General Jacobs.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m sure you gentlemen must have had a long trip. How about we all head over to the VFW? We’ve set up a nice lunch for you there.”

  The general smiled. “That’s sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day. Lead the way, ma’am.”

  Her dress swirled around her as she took the general by the arm and turned to walk toward a horse-drawn wagon waiting at the edge of the market. I pointedly ignored the sheriff’s disapproving glare as Steve and I followed the general’s entourage.

  I glanced over at Steve as we walked, and the yellow-eyed bastard was still smirking. When this dog-and-pony show was over, he had some explaining to do.

  *****

  Lunch was everything the mayor had promised. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, black-eyed peas, and an assortment of cooked garden vegetables—a traditional Southern meal. My mouth was watering before I even made it through the door of the VFW hall.

  Thankfully, the sheriff had stayed behind with the two guys in black combat fatigues to organize the work crew sorting out the supply drop. The sheer mass of the stacked crates that the Chinook had carried to us was staggering.

  During the reception, the mayor mingled among the newcomers, taking time to talk to each one and learn a little bit about them. Occasionally, she would shoot a glance my way, and then look meaningfully at Steve. I began to get the impression that it wasn’t her idea to invite me along.

  While the mayor and General Jacobs were at the bar getting a shot of scotch from the mayor’s personal stash, I grabbed a plate and got in line next to Steve at the buffet table.

  “Were you planning on at some point explaining to me why the hell you dragged me out of my house this morning?” I said, keeping my voice low. “I mean, I appreciate a free meal as much as the next guy, but I get the feeling I’m not exactly welcome here.”

  “Eric, I promise that all will be made clear, just not right now. Don’t worry, everything’s cool.”

  “You sure about that? ’Cause the mayor wouldn’t piss on me if I was burning, and the General’s bodyguards keep looking at me like I’m fucking Scarface.”

  Steve chuckled. “I told you, everything’s fine. Just eat your food, keep your mouth shut, and be patient. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

  Against my better judgment, I did as he said. The food was good, which made staying quiet an
almost enjoyable task. Once everyone was settled down at the banquet table, the mayor gave a short speech about how grateful she was for the government’s help, how humbling it was have earned Central Command’s trust, and blah, blah, blah. General Jacobs stood and gave an equally insincere and meaningless speech, but delivered it with less affected verve than the mayor had. Nevertheless, everyone gave him the same polite little golf clap that we had given the mayor.

  After lunch, the volunteers who had put our meal together brought peach cobbler around to everyone at the table, and even topped it off with a dollop of fresh whipped cream—a rare treat indeed. It would have been great, except for the fact that I detest peach cobbler. The Army grunt sitting next to me devoured his in less time than it takes to say the words, so I offered him mine. He seemed to hate me a little bit less after that.

  Just as I was eyeballing the side exit, and seriously mulling over how I could make my escape without drawing too much attention to myself, General Jacobs stood up and motioned to his men.

  “Well mayor, I certainly do appreciate the hospitality,” he said, “but I need to get back to the chopper and get on the horn to Central Command. Is five o’clock this afternoon still a good time to for the conference?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The mayor smiled, stood up, and walked the General and his men out to the parking lot, where a wagon waited for them. She said a polite round of goodbyes as the horses strained at their tethers, and the wagon creaked off down the road, leaving me, her, and Steve all standing out in front of town hall. Once the wagon had disappeared over a hill in the distance, both Steve and the mayor turned and regarded me silently.

  “So. Someone mind telling me what’s going on?” I said.

  The bright enthusiasm that Mayor Stone had displayed all morning dissipated like a fog under the noonday sun. She swiveled her gaze over to Steve.

  “You really think he’s the guy for the job?”

  Steve nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay people, I’m standing right here,” I chimed in. “Could you please explain to me what the hell you’re talking about?”

  Steve suppressed a smile and gave me a warning look. “The mayor has asked me to help her out with a special project, and to pick someone qualified to take the lead on it.”

  “What kind of project?”

  “The kind that saves lives and makes this town a safer place,” the mayor said.

  I stared at her for a moment. I was pretty sure it was the first time she had ever spoken to me directly.

  “Okay,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “We should go into my office. This is a matter best discussed in private.”

  She turned and walked into the town hall without a backward glance. I looked at Steve. He winked at me.

  “What are you getting me into, man?”

  “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, cursed under my breath, and followed him in. One thing I had to give this town. Life was never boring

  Chapter 3

  Trojan Horse

  The mayor’s office was exactly as Gabe had described it to me. Small, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the front lawn, bookshelves, the requisite collection of college degrees and plaques hanging on the walls, and a massive oak desk that looked like it had been there since the Taft administration. The mayor sat down behind it and motioned to the two chairs in front of her.

  “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

  I sat down in a comfortable leather chair next to Steve and watched while the mayor sorted through a few pieces of paper. She kept me waiting long enough to let me know she was keeping me waiting, and then slid two forms side-by-side on the desk in front of her.

  “Captain McCray tells me that you’ve had extensive paramilitary training. Is that correct?”

  I glanced over at Steve. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “At his behest, I spoke to Mr. Garrett about you. He told me that in addition to possessing significant unarmed combat skills, you’re an expert rifleman, you have a strong grasp of combat tactics and wilderness survival, and that you’re a serviceable sniper. Is all that true?”

  ‘Serviceable’ sniper. That sounded like something Gabe would say. “I’ll have to defer to Gabe’s judgment on that.”

  She smiled then, slight dimples forming at the corners of her mouth, white teeth showing through full lips. It was a practiced smile, and she knew exactly what kind of effect it had. But that didn’t stop it from being charming.

  “If Mr. Garrett’s assessment is correct, then it seems there’s more to you than appearances would suggest.”

  I wasn’t sure quite what that was supposed to mean, but found myself smiling back anyway. “Thank you. … I think.”

  She looked over at Steve. “Captain?”

  He turned his chair to face me. “I’ve seen what you can do Eric, and I have confidence in your abilities. The reason you’re here today is because we need someone to infiltrate the Legion, and I think you’re the man for the job.”

  I went still, and blinked at him a couple of times. “I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

  “Think about it,” he went on. “We’ve been spinning our wheels against these assholes for months, and what do we have to show for it? The last thing this town needs is a prolonged fight that will use up resources and cost lives. If we can get someone on the inside, feed us intel on where they hide and how they operate, we can use that to pick them apart.”

  I stuttered, stammered, and held up a hand. “Whoa, wait a minute. Here’s the thing—I’m not trained for that. I can hold my own in a firefight, but I know jack shit about espionage.”

  “I can work with you on that.”

  “Really? When? You spend ninety percent of your time running around in the woods looking for Legion raiders.”

  “And for all that, I’ve accomplished next to nothing. I think it’s time to switch tactics.”

  I waited another beat, trying sort out all the reasons why this was a bad idea. There were a lot to sift through. “Okay, what about the militia? They still have three months of training ahead of them.”

  “This plan won’t go into effect until they’re finished. I’m bringing it up now so that we have time to get you ready.”

  “Steve, what makes you think I’m even willing to do this?”

  “Because I know you, Eric. You’re nosy. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s being out of the loop.”

  I frowned at him, and fought the urge to smack that goddamn smirk off his face. The mayor stayed quiet at her desk, watching.

  They had planned this, the two of them. They had set up an ambush, and I had walked right into it. This, in and of itself, did not bother me. What did bother me was the fact that Steve was right. I do like being in the middle of things, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, and generally getting myself into trouble. Damn him.

  “Okay.” I sighed. “One more question. Why me? I mean, fighting ability aside, what makes you think I’m the guy to do this?”

  “You’ve read my intelligence reports,” Steve replied, “so you know that the Legion is growing. What those reports don’t say is that some of those people are survivors from the small towns around Hollow Rock and Bruceton.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Mayor Stone interjected, “He showed me photographs. I recognized some of the people in them.”

  I turned to stare at her, suspicious. “How is that possible? You’re telling me you recognized people from all over the county?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I grew up in Hollow Rock, Mr. Riordan. My family, those who are still alive, all live here. In my first election, I did my campaigning door to door. I’ve been the mayor of Hollow Rock for eight years, and I’m on a first-name basis with over half the households in Carroll County. I know the rest of them by either their tax records or their rap sheets. So yes, Mr. Riordan, I recognized people from all over the county.�
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  I nodded, getting the idea. “Okay then, why aren’t these people joining on our side? The Legion isn’t exactly known for their fairness and hospitality.”

  “That’s the problem,” the mayor said. “We just don’t know. It’s not as if we wouldn’t welcome them here; we need all the help we can get. But ever since the last election when Ronnie Kilpatrick defected, no one has attempted to join our community. Not one single person.”

  “Until you, that is,” Steve said.

  Now we were getting somewhere. “So you need me to find out how the Legion is sourcing their troops.”

  Steve nodded. “That, and we need to know where they’re operating from. There has to be somewhere, or maybe several locations, where they take shelter from the infected and store their supplies. If we can find these locations, then that will be the first step toward defeating them.”

  I sat back in my chair and let the weight of what they were asking me to do sink in. Warm sunshine filtered in through the tall windows and framed the mayor as she sat at her desk, waiting.

  “So let me see if I have this straight. Since some of the people in the Legion are from around here, or at least within a couple of days’ walk, if someone from Hollow Rock or Bruceton tried to infiltrate them, then there’s a good chance they would eventually be recognized. Good so far?”

  The mayor nodded.

  “Right. So what you need is someone who isn’t from around here. Someone with enough of a Southern accent to blend in. Someone who wouldn’t be suspected of being a spy from Hollow Rock. Someone with paramilitary training. Am I tracking here?”

  She nodded again. “That’s right.”