Somebody had picked the locks on the armory. Nothing was taken but somebody, or a bunch of somebodies, had been messing around with the chain guns. From the candy wrapper she’d found on the floor, she had a pretty good idea who it was. There were some manuals missing too and she was pretty sure she’d find them in the secret hideout, the kids playing grownup and trying to teach themselves how to operate the tanks and Bradley’s. She needed to have another chat with the Bullet Brigade. She’d listen to their protestations of innocence and denial, insisting they were perfect angels and would never do anything wrong. All with straight faces. But they’d know she knew, it would be enough to keep them on the straight and narrow, for a while anyway, and the missing manuals would mysteriously reappear one morning.
She’d have tea at the Sunshine Café before she got on with her day. She had time for that. It was mostly for Lacy, she told herself. She wasn’t worried. Not yet.
“Let me know if ya hear anything from either one of them.” Cobb rasped and clomped out of the shop. He had a convoy to organize, didn’t have time to be hanging around all day, waiting for a call. The Meadows kid found quite a few more settlements and was pretty good at radioing in with the lists of what they had and what they needed. This Tower he’d found up in Oregon was the highest on his priority list. He’d talked to their chief of security, a former cop, and knew they needed to get a load of military grade hardware up there as quick as possible. From the sounds of it, they had one of the most advanced technological buildings in the world before the fall, now it certainly was. They couldn’t let Casey’s Raiders take it down, they’d just destroy it. The Security chief, a captain Macon, said they only had small arms and a few police rifles. Nothing that could stop a determined Raider attack with rocket launchers or even a handful of grenades. He was sending a whole load of heavy ordinance, RPG’s, night vision, TOW missile systems they could mount on the roof and a couple of Bradley’s for the intimidation factor. No body would be stupid enough to attack it if they saw that much of a military presence.
From the sounds of it, the Tower was much more important than Lakota was when it came to rebuilding. They still had all of their technology up and running, they were still 21st century with cell phones and wireless systems. General Carson was already talking about getting some crews together and rerouting the fiber optic cables from NSA and getting satellite sync networks back up. Cobb didn’t understand all that, but Carl the Engineer did and was all aflutter about the possibilities. All Cobb knew was if they could protect the Tower, it was a big step in the right direction to restoring civilization.
Lakota was about as far back as Cobb wanted to go in the overall timeline of things. They’d managed to get the town up and running at about a 1950’s level of technology with running water, electricity and party line telephones. He was happy with it but he knew a lot of the towns were operating at a weird hybrid 1800’s level. Some things were still modern, they might have tractors and machine guns but they only had sporadic generator power and used wood to heat their homes.
His biggest problem was man power. There just weren’t enough of them to fill all the roles, do all the jobs, take care of things that needed to get done. There weren’t enough good people left in the world. Between the millions of zombies, the crazy cannibals to the south and the crazy Egyptian cult taking over Canada, there were casualties every week. Hard working men and women trying to rebuild who were either being killed outright or forced to join up with the gangs.
“Hey Top!” Slippery Jim said and ran to catch up once he was far enough away from the sheriff where she wouldn’t see them. He was headed down to Tommy’s shop where the trucks were lining up, getting ready for the big run.
“Shouldn’t you little hooligans be in school?” Cobb asked, eyeballing the group of kids who were the cause of most of the mischievousness that went on in the town.
“We heard there was a convoy headed up north.” Jimmy said, speaking for his gang of eight or ten kids, the oldest of them no more than twelve. They all fell in behind, trying to look contrite about skipping school but not being very convincing.
Cobb just harrumphed, kept striding along.
“We know you’re short on manpower,” Jimmy said “and we come to volunteer. We can help. We heard you barely have enough guys to drive the trucks. We can be lookouts or gunners.”
“Well you heard wrong.” Cobb gruffed at them, wondering how the hell these kids knew things the rest of the town didn’t. “Now beat it, get back to school before I call Mrs. Parsons and tell her where you’re at.”
“Yes sir.” they all chorused innocently and took off before he could make good on his threat to call their meanest teacher.
Cobb watched them go, knowing full good and well they weren’t going back to class. He gave his head a shake, wished they were a little older. Even if they were fifteen or sixteen, he might be tempted to send them out. Everyone called them the Bullet Brigade, they’d been instrumental in saving the town last year, but running ammo and guns to people on the wall wasn’t the same as going out into the wastelands and manning a battle station. They weren’t ready to be shooting at zombies or worse, the raiders who fired back. He put them out of his mind when he came to the trucks. He had things to do, cargo to load, people to get rolling. They’d never sent a convoy out on a two-thousand-mile journey. There were a lot more logistics involved than anything they’d done before. There was fuel and food to think about, repairs if a truck broke down or had a flat, they needed to line the doors with Kevlar if they got attacked and the list went on. He needed another dozen men but he just didn’t have them.
He had train crews rounding up hordes of the undead, he had his best men running with Gunny trying to eliminate Casey, he had three shifts of guards on the walls, he had convoys out clearing towns and warehouses and bringing in food. Every able-bodied man and woman was working, doing their part, there was just too much to do. They had fields they were preparing for crops, they had livestock to manage, he had people at the hydroelectric dam and waste treatment facility and the list went on. The SS sisters wanted more medical equipment, Tina out at the power plant wanted spare parts, their one garbage truck had a hydraulic leak and they needed a new one, the water treatment plant was screaming for more purification chemicals… it never ended. It was enough to give a man an ulcer. The bottom line was there simply weren’t enough warm bodies to do everything that needed to be done. Everyone was doing double duties. The barber was a guard. The various store clerks helped with community meals and the mechanics rode shotgun in the supply convoys. It would be so much easier if he didn’t have assholes like Casey to contend with.
He walked the half mile to where the trucks were being loaded, he needed the exercise and it gave him time to organize his thoughts. He spoke with Tommy for a minute, checked with Eliza with her ever-present laptop and spreadsheets then hurried off to find Captain Wilson and the cases of TOW missiles still not delivered.
The Bullet Brigade watched from the shadows across the street until Cobb was out of sight. They were a rag tag bunch, mostly orphans, who were always trying to do more to help, usually just getting in the way. They’d been through a lot, they’d survived a lot. Most of them, even though they were only ten or twelve, had already killed zombies. Some of them, their own families who had turned. They knew how high the stakes were, not like some of the other kids in town who’d been protected and sheltered by their parents. Kids who’d hid out for a few weeks with grownups then came to Lakota when the walls were up and everything was safe. Slippery Jim had seen every friend he’d ever had, his own blood sister and the nuns that took care of them, killed by savage men. He’d fought with them and had bitten a chunk out of one their arms, the same one who’d cut off his sister’s head. Mr. Jessie had saved him from certain death, had taught him how to shoot and taught him how to be brave.
The rest of the kids in his gang had similar stories they couldn’t tell the grownups about. Only others who had been through the sam
e thing could understand. They’d let a few of the town kids in the gang, kids that still had parents, because they’d proven themselves to be tough and unafraid. During the last battle of Lakota when a thousand Jihadi Muslims and ten thousand zombies had been attacking, swarming the walls, his gang had kept the bullets flowing up the ladders to all the men and women firing the guns. They’d done the impossible, they’d saved the town but now they were still treated like little kids. Slippery Jim said that was all for the good, though. Grownups didn’t pay attention to kids unless they were in the way or being bothersome. He’d learned a lot on how the world worked during his lifetime of living in Saint Sophia’s home for Children. He’d taught everything he knew to his new gang and now it was showtime.
“Rumors were true, then.” he said from their hiding spot. “They’re sending the convoy without any gunners or extra drivers.”
They watched the First Sergeant hop in one of the pickup trucks and drive off. It was their chance to help, not be told to get back to classes. There were only four trucks going so only four of the gang could go. Any more and they’d be in the way, crowded in the cabs. Everyone volunteered but they finally played rounds of rock, paper, scissors to see who could. Jimmy, Gage, Antonio and Lizzie won and it was settled.
“Radar” he said “You grab our bug out bags from the clubhouse. We’ll stash them here and load them up when we get a chance.”
Radar nodded and took off. It would take him a couple of trips to get them but they’d been ready for months in case they needed to run. Most of them had fled their homes or schools last year with nothing but the clothes on their backs and zombies on their tails. Now they kept emergency stuff at their clubhouse, they never wanted to be caught unprepared again. They weren’t the same people they had been last year, there was a new seriousness about them. The old spoiled or lazy kids they used to be were dead and gone. They had grownup thoughts and ideas now. They couldn’t care less about Legos or Pokémon cards. They cared about their town and about helping to keep it safe.
“Until you’ve run screaming from your own mother tearing chunks out of your baby brother then turning her dead eyes on you, you can’t appreciate how fragile the world really is.” Antonio had told them months ago. They all agreed. They’d still have fun, hang out at the beach and play with the Xbox, but they all knew they had to be able to take care of themselves. The adults couldn’t do it all and your whole world, everything you owned and everyone you knew, could disappear in an eyeblink.
“Remember,” Jim said. “I’ll give you the signal when it’s time to hide. It can’t all happen at once or they’ll suspect something.”
They nodded then jogged after him as he cheerfully greeted a frazzled Eliza who was trying to direct a fork truck with a pallet loaded with boxes of supplies for Tombstone.
“Hey Mizz Eliza.” he said. “Mr. Cobb said we was supposed to help you load trailers. What you need us to do?”
54
Gunny
It was after dark when they finally trudged into the little cluster of buildings at the foot of the Kofa Mountain. They’d hoped some of Casey’s men would chase down the plane crash and they could ambush them, take their cars or trucks, but no one came. They’d either escaped the Raiders dragnet or Casey was being careful, gathering his men to come at them in force. Or he thought they’d been killed in the wreck. Who knew what that moron was thinking, his unpredictability made it difficult to plan. The half dozen buildings were long abandoned, along with a smattering of rusting cars and broken heavy equipment. The moon and stars were bright in the cloudless sky and the signs of many desert parties were strewn around. There were a few campfire pits, faded graffiti sprayed on buildings, empty beer cans discarded and half buried in the sand. There were a few derelict campers, some painted boulders with ‘class of 2012’, ‘Bobbie loves Jenny forever’ and other slogans along with some metal equipment sheds from some long disused mining facility. A creaky metal windmill still turned when a rare breeze would puff up. The temperature wasn’t too hateful since the sun had set, it was in the high 70’s and wouldn’t drop down much below that. The Sonoran Desert was a harsh environment during the day but nighttime was bearable.
Gunny took inventory of his crew, they all looked worn out. The merciless hike in hundred-degree weather had sapped them. There had only been a single canteen of water between them and it was long gone. Skin was red with sunburn, lips were cracked and dry. He was pretty sure he didn’t look much better. He spit out the pebble he’d been using to draw saliva. Things weren’t desperate, not yet, but they would be if they didn’t find water.
“Spread out.” he said quietly. “Check the buildings, see if there are any water tanks left that haven’t been shot up or might have a little something left in them. Hollywood, check the windmill, see if we can get it pumping again somehow.”
They nodded and split up, everyone too tired to make jokes or small talk. He watched them go, watched how they walked, looked for signs of limping or blisters. No one had complained or had a hard time keeping up with the pace he’d set and he felt pride in them. They were a good team and the setbacks hadn’t broken them or devolved into in fighting and bickering. Well, besides Griz and Scratch but that had been going on for years. He took off towards a rusty, dilapidated shed, hoping to find something to drink so they wouldn’t have to dig holes for solar wells. The mouthful of water you got from them was barely worth the effort if there were other options. There was a lot of plant life, plenty of scrub brush and cactus, so he wasn’t too worried about finding water. They’d suck the juice from a barrel cactus if they had to, but only as a last resort. It was so acidic, it would probably make them sick. They weren’t far from the freeway, though. Once they got over the mountain, it was only another fifteen or twenty miles. They could risk getting diarrhea if they were that close, it wasn’t like they were lost and would be out here for days or weeks. If they could find a few gallons stashed away, that would alleviate worrying about it, though. They could make it with that.
They met back where they’d split up some twenty minutes later, Scratch and Stabby carrying a cooler between them, grins on their faces.
“Somebody forgot their beer.” Scratch said and pulled out an ancient can of Coors Light. It didn’t even hiss when he opened it, the sell by date was unreadable but had to be years in the past. It was hot and flat and it didn’t matter. It was wet and there was most of a case in the sun faded cooler.
“Tastes like mule piss.” Griz declared with a grimace and reached for a second can.
“You drink that a lot, do you?” Scratch asked innocently but the big man only shot him the bird and savored the warm, stale liquid.
His team was exhausted, they’d been hard at it for what seemed like days. He’d like to get over the mountain tonight but he doubted if he’d make it, he wasn’t twenty-five anymore, and some of the others looked worse than he felt. Maybe some of Casey’s goons would come nosing around and they could take them out, commandeer their cars. Gunny pointed up one of the winding trails leading into the mountain.
“There are a couple of mineshafts up there.” he said. “We can lay low for what’s left of the night, stay cool tomorrow and make a break for the highway once the sun sets. We’ll find a car or truck or something and get back on the road home. If Casey is sending out search teams, we’ll hear them long before they see us.”
55
Slippery Jim
They’d hustled hard all afternoon in the hot trailers, restacking cases of food, boxes of tools, pallets of dry goods, crates of ammo and rocket launchers. Eliza made sure everything got loaded in the correct order for each stop and the kids worked tirelessly. They felt the tension ease a little once they got started and everyone was glad for the help. It freed up the drivers so they could finish prepping their trucks, ensuring they had spare tires, headlights, tools, oil and anything else they could think of. It was a long drive, some two thousand miles each way, and there were only a few safe and friendly place
s that could help them if they needed it. The trucks and trailers were armored against zombies and men with guns thanks to the mechanics in Tommy’s repair shop. They spent most of their time behind the welders and cutting torches building war wagons. There weren’t enough men to run teams in the rigs. It took a brave man to volunteer to make a run into the unknown and this wasn’t a trip for the trainee’s. The drivers would be running solo.
Jimmy’s crew got smaller as he gave Lizzie the nod and then Tony a little while later. They grabbed their bags and secreted themselves away in the trailer going all the way to Oregon. Eliza finally noticed some of the kids were missing as the last Bradley was being chained down on a drop deck. The truckers had almost driven it off the trailer twice. They had figured out how to start them and get them moving but the big machines were finicky in a tight spot and there were only inches to spare. Half of the tracks hung off on either side. It took everything he had for Jimmy not to tell them they were doing it wrong. He knew from hours of studying the manual you didn’t steer it like a car. The farther you pushed the yoke, the harder it locked up the brake on that side. He and the rest of his brigade just gave each other looks and little head shakes. They couldn’t let the grownups know what they’d been up to, they’d start padlocking everything and making it harder on them.
They were working by headlights from pickup trucks. The sun had long since set and this part of town didn’t have street lights.
“Where’s the rest of your team, James?” Eliza asked, making a final entry on her laptop and closing the lid.
Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet Page 37