Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles - Vol. 2

by Damon Novak

  “They got to drinking wine, and Ma started telling her a story, and they didn’t know I was …”

  She hesitated, like she was considerin’ not tellin’ me any more. I said, “Yeah, Lil? What was the fuckin’ story?”

  She reached out and took my hand. “CB, she miscarried before she had Clay. The doctor told her she wouldn’t be able to have any kids after that. It was pretty late in her pregnancy, I think she said she was like five months along. But then, four months later, she got pregnant again, with Clay.

  “It was a hard pregnancy and delivery, and after he was born, a different doctor told her she would never be able to have any more kids. She believed him. Ma and Pa wanted a bigger family, so they went to a private adoption agency and found a boy, just a month old. Clay was so young he never knew.”

  I stared at her. What she was saying was beginnin’ to muffle in my ears, like it was some dream I was wakin’ up from and the words weren’t goin’ away. When she squeezed my hand and said, “CB?” I stared at her.

  “They were going to leave it at the two boys, but next thing she knew, she was pregnant with you. You were an easy pregnancy, and then I came along. I never told any of you because I was so afraid of our family getting torn apart. I was really afraid Tanner would feel like he didn’t belong.”

  I stared at Lilly for the longest time, then turned forward and fell back into the seat. I let my mind chew on it all for as long as I needed, and Lilly didn’t interrupt me. I looked outside and saw the two Nacogdoche kids on sentry with their Henrys.

  Takin’ a deep breath, I said, “I never felt it for a second. Never gave it a thought.”

  “Why would you?” she said, no answer expected.

  I looked at her, understandin’ beginnin’ to take hold. “So. If what they say is true, we’ve got Native American blood in us. Tanner obviously didn’t, and neither did Pa, since he changed. Ma must’ve been the Indian.”

  She stared at me. “So, Georgie and Roxy?”

  “And Garland and Terry,” I said. “That also explains Liam’s family changin’, but not him. And anyone and everyone else we meet.”

  We both sat in silence a long time, starin’ outta the front windshield at the empty streets all around us. I finally nodded, turnin’ to look at her. “I’m sorry you had to keep that to yourself all these years. Had to be hard.”

  “It was. But you understand why I did?”

  “Yeah. I get the feelin’ Ma was gonna tell me a few times. Somethin’ in her eyes. She never did, though.”

  “Tan was our brother, CB. Every bit as much as any one of us, he was a Baxter.”

  “Hell yeah, he was. Maybe more a Baxter, ‘cause he was chosen.”

  A whistle, muffled from the closed windows, sounded beyond. It was followed by three pops.

  “Let’s get back inside so those kids can relax. I guess we got some shit to share.”

  Ω

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  We’d kept our promise to ourselves, havin’ learned a lot about our predicament and that of the rest of the world.

  I guess I’d always kinda accepted that Climbin’ Fox Wattana had started all this shit, at least to some degree. Now it was driven home that it could well be that only people long of this land – of the North American continent – had survived this.

  But bein’ born here wasn’t enough; you also had to carry the blood of the original inhabitants.

  American Indians. Least that’s what we used to call ‘em. Funny, even they’d mostly accepted it. Indian Casinos, Indian Bingo. Not a one of ‘em from India.

  But my mind came back to the reality of it, meanin’ the bloodline thing. Somehow that really hit me.

  Soldiers and Marines in Afghanistan and Iraq, Syria, and the real Lebanon. All over the world. If they had Native American blood in ‘em, they were there, wherever they were, far from home and surrounded by thousands who didn’t carry the protective plasma in their veins.

  Thousands of the walkin’ dead. Hungry as hell and lookin’ to them for sustenance.

  Did it extend to others? Could it? I didn’t see how. Aboriginals in Australia? Remote African tribes?

  I pushed the thoughts away for right then. I’d have plenty of time to roll that shit over in my head, pointless as it was.

  Garland was quiet as we left the tent. He walked with his shoulders slumped, like he didn’t have a friend in the world. As the thought hit me, I realized it was true.

  He didn’t.

  A procession of kids and adults, all with their .22 rifles, walked alongside us as we made our way to the vehicles. In the distance, I saw small pickups kickin’ up dust as others of their tribe stayed busy, doin’ what they did before we got there.

  Sure, we had our guns, but still the kids walked diligently beside us. It was their way, and I, for one, appreciated it.

  I stopped Garland, takin’ him by the shoulder, pullin’ him aside. After everyone else got inside our two vehicles, I stared at his face.

  “What’s up, man?” he asked, obviously uncomfortable.

  “Just gotta ask you somethin’.”

  His eyes met mine. “Shoot.”

  I nodded, took a breath, and said, “Garland, are you a good guy?” I closed my right hand and rapped my knuckles on my chest. “In here, I mean. You a good person in here?”

  He stared at my fist and got it. “I am,” he said.

  “Before all this shit I mean.”

  Noddin’, he said, “Pretty harmless. Did some stupid shit when I was younger, didn’t hurt no one but me, but I got my shit together. Kept my head down, got machinin’ work, kept an apartment.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then we’re your family now. All of us. If you want it to be that way.”

  “I do,” he said, noddin’ fast.

  “That means you gotta look out for us, and we’ll do the same.”

  A whistle came from behind us somewhere. Four rifle pops. Me ‘n Garland looked around. Crack shots had taken out the threat again.

  “I will, CB,” said Garland. “Thanks for draggin’ me out of the water. Savin’ me from that crazy bitch.”

  “Between you, me and the lamppost, I’m glad it was her turned zombie, not you.” I held out my hand and he shook it.

  Without another word, we got in our respective vehicles. As I closed the door, Jimmy came up and knocked on the glass. I hit the button to roll it down.

  “We’ll head up tomorrow. Need to spend today to gather everything we plan to bring.”

  “Even though you know what they’re plannin’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Folks may hold some grudges against Injuns, you know,” I said, smilin’.

  “If they’re still alive, they shouldn’t,” he said. “That Injun blood saved ‘em.”

  “Good point.”

  “See you there.”

  I reached a hand out and he took it. “Godspeed, man,” I said.

  “Same,” said Jimmy.

  I raised the window again and looked around the cab. “Wagons, ho.”

  “Huh?” asked Roxy and Terry at the same time.

  “Never fuckin’ mind,” I mumbled, and dropped it in gear. “Y’all wouldn’t know a good western if it sat on your face.”

  Ω

  The next four hours, I gripped that steerin’ wheel, dodgin’ past every dead son and daughter of a bitch we came across. Hit a few, dodged more. Luckily we’d decided to stay well east of Dallas, and we did our best to skirt away from any town bigger’n Nacogdoches.

  I can tell ya, when we crossed the Red River and saw that sign that said ‘Now Entering Oklahoma’, I felt like cheerin’.

  “What’s it feel like to be outta Texas?” I said.

  “Feels just like being in Texas,” said Roxy.

  “Is that a store up there?” asked Georgina, pointin’.

  I squinted. “Yep. And they have a gas pump. Grab the radio, tell Danny to pull over.”

  Georgie did, and my buddy swung the Excursion i
nto the store’s lot, which was gravel and empty, except for one dust-covered pickup. A sign said COLD BEER TO GO, and I think I started salivatin’ when I saw it.

  The old buildin’ was built to look like any general store in any old western town, with a faded wood façade and a curled wood porch runnin’ the length of it. The windows were plastered with so many beer posters and blacked out neon signs that we could see nothin’ in the darkness beyond.

  We both backed our rides in on either side of the pump and everyone got out, weapons of choice in hand. Nokosi leapt out, too, landin’ on the dusty surface and shook, then took a nice bow, gettin’ a good stretch.

  Every time I looked at that dog I thought of Sonja. I missed her a lot.

  As I stared, I felt Georgie’s hand take mine. “C’mon. I’ve been craving a moon pie, and this is just the sort of place I’ll find it.”

  “Doctors should know better,” I said. “That said, I could down a couple.”

  “There’s a shed over there,” called Danny. “Power’s out, just like everywhere. Maybe a hand pump or somethin’ in there.” He held up the radio. “Me n’ Garland’ll check it out. We’ll radio if we need you to find a key.”

  “Be careful,” I said.

  He held up his gun. “Every second of every day, nowadays.” They started toward the shed as the rest of us grouped together, ten feet from the front of the store.

  “It’s quiet,” said Lilly. “CB, let’s you, me and Georgina go in first, make sure it’s clear.”

  “I can do it!” shouted Liam, his .22 rifle in hand.

  I turned to him. “No yellin’, man,” I said, usin’ a loud whisper to get my point across. “It’s the first rule of stealth.”

  He looked embarrassed and upset. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, kneelin’ beside him. “Until you know what’s behind a door, you can’t give away your position. Can you see in those windows?”

  He shook his head.

  “Right, neither can I. But I guarantee you, if somebody’s in there, they can see out. Understand?”

  A nod this time.

  “Alright, kid. You see what you’re doin’ right now?”

  He looked confused. “Huh?”

  “You’re holdin’ that rifle just right. Barrel at the ground. Finger off the trigger. You know more than you think you do, but you still got some stuff to learn. Good job. Now, stay sharp.”

  Pattin’ him on the shoulder, I stood. Georgina was lookin’ at me like I was Father DoGood from the neighborhood parish. I winked at her.

  I heard somethin’ metallic and felt everyone around me bristle. We all scanned the length of the buildin’.

  Around the south corner, I could see a big pasture behind it, enclosed by a split-rail fence. It was several acres, from what I could tell. The grass was dead but tall, and I still thought I spotted the ribcages of a couple horses layin’ out toward the middle.

  As everyone followed my gaze, two dead men came into view, their ravaged faces turned toward us as they hit the fence and reached over, clawin’ the air in our direction.

  I keyed my radio. “Heads up, we got zombies.”

  “Roger that, man,” came Garland’s voice. “Danny’s almost got this lock pried off.”

  A driveway led between the store and the shed, headin’ out of view on the north side. Between the two structures, I could see the split rail fence continued off in the distance, so it was a big-ass pasture.

  I wondered how many horses had been in there, and how many more of the walkin’ dead had feasted on ‘em while they were alive.

  A loud metallic pop echoed across the distance, followed by a man’s surprised scream, off in the direction of the shed. I knew it wasn’t Danny, so it had to be Garland.

  Three gunshots, followed by footfalls, and next thing I knew, Danny, yankin’ Garland along by his shirt, came chargin’ around the corner. Garland still had his gun in his hand, but he was barely able to keep up with the huge stride of my old friend, and he was bein’ dragged, more than walkin’.

  “Shed full of zombies!” yelled Danny, his voice higher than normal, charged by adrenaline. He waved his hand for us to run, but nobody was willin’ to do that until he was safe.

  He finally let go of Garland as they left the grass and hit the gravel, and just when I thought they were in the clear, Garland’s feet slid out from under him. He went down hard, slidin’ a good two feet before his body started rollin’, his gun four feet behind him, outta reach.

  The sound of breakin’ glass and splinterin’ wood came almost at the same time; everyone except Garland turned their heads to see the double doors of the old store burst wide open.

  Rotted zombies of every size, gender and level of deterioration poured out of that old store like water, hittin’ the faded wood porch in droves. They scrambled toward us like goddamned Europeans at a Nutella sale.

  “Back, back!” I screamed, but Danny hadn’t seen Garland fall. I only watched the skinny dude for a split-second before decidin’ he was hurt bad enough to need help to his feet.

  I told him we’d be his family, and I didn’t let my family get mauled by a horde of the rotten dead.

  I hauled ass toward him and Danny stared at me like I’d gone nuts. I guess he turned to see what I was doin’, because the next second he was chargin’ right behind me, gun raised and firin’ round after round past Garland’s writhin’ body.

  I joined him, firin’ the DP-12 about head-height as I ran, missin’ with half my shots. Thank God the buckshot spread wide, ‘cause the pepperin’ they got was more than adequate to take half their faces off and drop ‘em to terra firma.

  More gunfire erupted behind us, and I jerked my head over to see the larger horde from the store twitchin’ and jerkin’ as well-aimed lead blew their heads, chests and extremities into bloody mincemeat.

  Danny angled toward Garland’s rifle and scooped it up.

  “Danny!” I yelled, and he tossed it perfectly, allowin’ me to snag it in mid-air.

  I finally got to the skinny newcomer to our group. I put his rifle on the ground and slung the DP-12’s strap over my shoulder as I held out a hand that Garland took. I jerked him up and he hopped on one leg, wincin’.

  “Do you need me to carry you?” I almost screamed, I was so worried about Georgie, Lilly, and the others. I saw more deadheads makin’ their way out of the store, and Danny was still workin’ on the shed rotters.

  “Cover me a sec!” he said, hoppin’ on his left leg while he bent down and did this sick little twist-snap to his right knee. I dropped the DP-12 back into my hands and along with Danny, we finished off the shed deadheads.

  Behind me, even above the gunfire, I heard the loud POP! as Garland’s knee snapped back into its socket. Almost made me sicker than the zombie brains and guts.

  The next thing I knew, he put both feet down, flexed once, and snatched his gun off the ground. A second later he had it up and firin’ as he ran sideways, firin’ on the larger horde.

  “Spread out!” yelled Lilly, and hearin’ her voice made me feel good. “Liam, stay with me!”

  Georgie was damned good with her 9mm, and I watched her fire it, then assess. Fire. Assess. She was surgical in her approach, and hell yeah, I’m usin’ a pun.

  One of Dr. Georgina Lake’s eyes was on her daughter and her friend, and as one of the jerkin’ freaks began to move in too close for her likin’, she put a 9mm round through its head.

  Terry, for his part, had learned his lesson well on the boat that day, and while he wasn’t gettin’ any closer to the advancin’ horde, he wasn’t runnin’ away, either.

  Roxy was right beside him, her face flushed white with terror, but exhilaration was there, too. She had a bit of her mama in her.

  “Keep slidin’ around!” I yelled, because whether we realized it or not, we were surroundin’ them in a semi-circle. “Space evenly and keep firin’!”

  Instinct pulled the dead walkers straight toward each of us, and our arc was flat, so there wasn�
��t much risk of shootin’ one another. When the rounds passed through the gelatinous flesh of the formerly livin’, it embedded into the well-worn wood of the storefront.

  They’d stopped pourin’ out of the store now. Bunches of ‘em had blown-apart legs, now clawin’ at the black blood-stained gravel to get to the fresh meat that was busy annihilatin’ ‘em into even smaller pieces.

  As the horde crumpled to the ground, it was as though our entire group was movin’ in like a single organism, our little half-oval gettin’ tighter and tighter until they almost lay at our feet.

  Lilly held up her hand and we all quit firin’. As we stood there, surveyin’ the mess of half-rotted humanity, Liam raised his gun.

  We all just watched the boy as he sighted in and fired once. He moved his barrel and fired again. Scannin’ the pile of dead for another five seconds, he raised it again and took out a single stinker, standin’ in the door of the store.

  Late to the party and unwelcomed.

  Suddenly, from behind us, we heard what sounded like a thousand whistles, followed by one loud gunshot.

  We all spun around to see a line of Toyota pickups, men, women, and children standin’ in the back, strange straps around their legs, every .22 barrel pointin’ in the air, smokin’.

  It was the Nacogdoche Tribe. They were all smilin’.

  Looks like they got ‘em a head start on tomorrow.

  Ω

  “To be honest,” said Jimmy, “Carla and I kinda thought you all was … let’s say, a little helpless. It’s why we thought to head out early. In case y’all got in trouble.”

  Lilly walked forward, smilin’. “It could’ve gone much worse. It’s nice to know you were behind us, even if we didn’t know a few minutes ago.”

  “Not sure why you thought we’d get in trouble,” said Danny. “I mean, don’t we exude confidence and ability?” He was still breathin’ hard from the fight, but flashed his bright, white teeth in a big, facetious smile.

  “You said you were on the water for the last part of your trip,” said Carla. “In the Gulf. That’s like being on an island, and it sounds safe. We’ve been on land from the outset, fighting the dead. We’ve learned they never tire and they never sleep.”