Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet

by Simpson, David A.

  It was a peaceful evening and with Bob on watch they felt safe enough to let their guard down. To take off their weapons, strip out of gore grimed clothes and bathe in the river. Jessie insisted Scarlet lay back, relax, read a book and chill. He washed their blood-stained leathers and did a little housekeeping on the car, cleaning it out and reorganizing things. They whiled away the afternoon listening to music and occasionally she’d read aloud passages from a book she’d picked up along the way.

  He tinkered with the car, tightening belts and bolts, looking for anything that might be a problem later on. The air was clean and fresh, no hint of undead smells and Bob chased rabbits while the cat stalked something down by the river, her tail twitching.

  The darkening sky was huge above them and the brightest stars were starting to peek out. They lay curled up together on the blanket and watched the sun settling down on the horizon, the great, fiery ball painting long shadows. They snacked on chips, cows were grazing in the distance and the safety of the car was only a few yards behind them. Aside from the small outpost an hour west of them, they were the only living people for hundreds of miles.

  The night sounds were starting: the bull frogs, the crickets and distant whippoorwills began their mating calls.

  “I love you too, Jessie.” Scarlet said plainly, stating a fact. Her head was on his chest, listening to his heart. “I would do great and terrible things for you.”

  He held her tight as the moon rose and they were complete.

  They were unique, perfect for each other and even the blood coursing through their veins could feel the affinity and drew them closer. They were an anomaly in the world, a match that was unequaled.

  92

  Gunny

  Griz added a little axle lube to his already filthy hair, greasing it back out of his face as Gunny refilled his magazines after he reassembled them. He’d pulled them apart to clean out weeks of desert grit and grime. They were getting close to the main base camp and had stopped for last-minute preparations and maybe fall in with another convoy. They didn’t know if the Raiders had any kind of checkpoints or bite check stations setup and it would be easier to blend in if they weren’t by themselves.

  They didn’t have a plan, they didn’t know what kind of opportunities would present themselves once they slid into town. They were just going to wing it, gather intel, maybe destroy some key equipment if they could. Maybe stick a knife in Casey’s kidney if they got a chance. The battlefield was fluid and their enemy was formidable but unorganized and with the garish costumes the raiders had adapted, it was easy to hide in plain sight. They could slip in and out unnoticed, try to find a weakness and exploit it. They needed to buy some time for the evacuations or the hardening of towns that chose to fight. From listening to the radios, they had run into a bit of luck. It seems ol’ Casey was having trouble knocking over the Indian village and instead of living on a cliff top issuing orders, he was stuck down at the bottom unable to get in.

  They’d heard him bellowing orders a few hours ago and apparently his second attack had the same result as the first. He hadn’t been able to use stealth to get in and his raiders were repelled at the gate. He was seething, they could hear it in his voice and quietly laughed as he screamed at his dying men. He’d demanded for all the outriders to hurry up and get back to base, he was going to teach those savages a lesson they’d never forget.

  “Listen to the pot call the kettle black.” Gunny had said. “That would be funny if the Hopi could finish off his army out here in the desert.”

  “I think he’s too stubborn to move on to easier targets.” Griz said. “He seems like the kind of guy that gets an idea in his head and won’t let go, even if it kills him.”

  “Yep.” Gunny agreed. “It might be his downfall but if he succeeds, we’ll have a hard time getting him out unless we blow hell out of it. He’ll have a fortress stronger than Lakota and he’ll rule this entire region. That would be a shame, some of the retrievers said it’s a pretty nice setup.”

  “So, we just gotta make sure he doesn’t succeed then.” Griz said matter of factly. “He probably knows we wouldn’t want to destroy a working city, there are so few of them left.”

  “Yep.” Gunny said again, topped off his last mag and pulled out his poke to roll a smoke. He had been wracking his brain to come up with a better plan because they both knew this one sucked. There had to be a better way but they kept circling back to Casey getting settled in a stronghold that was in their back yard. They had to stop him otherwise he would basically be unstoppable. Once he was ensconced in his mountaintop fortress he would continue to spread his influence, continue to spread his terror and continue to take over one town after another. It had to stop before it got started.

  “There’s a caravan coming.” Griz said and lowered the binoculars.

  “Can you tell how many?”

  “There’s a lot of dust but it looks small. Eight or ten cars maybe.”

  They were in the parking lot of a small Indian souvenir shop that had already been raided and trashed. Broken pottery and kachina dolls were strewn all over the store and most of the jewelry was missing. Gunny had his hood up and they both bent under it as the convoy approached.

  “Those fingerbones stink.” Gunny grumbled as he feigned tightening a bolt. “How do you stand it?”

  “Burt’s” Griz said, referring to the fragrant balm he dabbed under his nose.

  They let the convoy get close enough to spot them before Gunny finished up and started wiping his hands on a rag. The lead truck pulled up beside them and they flashed the men inside a fang-toothed grin, letting them know they were full members of the cannibal crew.

  “Trouble?” the passenger with the painted face asked and gave them a nod, making sure they saw his own sharpened teeth.

  “Fan belt was squeaking.” Gunny said. “Just needed to be tightened up. Any idea how much farther?”

  “I don’t know.” he replied. “We’ve gotta be getting close. We come in from Oklahoma, I thought we was supposed to be going to Lakota.”

  “I heard that too.” Gunny said “Guess there was a change of plan?”

  He left the question hanging, if this guy knew anything, maybe he’d start talking or at least feel superior, a little more in the loop. He’d think he was higher ranked than them. Basic psychology 101, appeal to their ego, let them think they were smarter and better than you and they would underestimate you every time.

  They talked for a few more minutes, Gunny told him they were the only two survivors of the Black Moon Brotherhood.

  “Ran into a huge horde that was following a train.” Griz said. “If we hadn’t been away from the main camp, we would have bought it, too.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that.” the man said. “They say there are millions of them wandering around in the deserts of West Texas.”

  “I’ll scratch that off my places to visit list.” Gunny said and let the guy keep talking, let him establish how important he was. Gunny didn’t offer up much, just nodded in all the right places, let him think they were lowly outriders or supply scavengers.

  Griz casually rested his hand on one of his pistols, raised an eyebrow at Gunny.

  A slight shake of the head, and Griz relaxed, scratched at his beard. The convoy was too spread out and all the people were staying in their cars. They’d seen a few get out and relieve themselves, taking advantage of the unscheduled stop, but they climbed right back in and awaited instructions. They were a little better trained than the other group they’d ran in to. No way to win a gun battle with them and they wanted the cover of a group anyway. This little caravan was perfect, they would blend right in. The man doing all the talking finally told them to fall in line behind the prisoner truck and follow them to the base camp. They could join up with the Human Hunter tribe if they wanted, he could always use a few more men.

  “Sounds good.” Gunny said and they did as they were told.

  93

  Captain Ricketts

&
nbsp; “We still can’t raise them on the radio, my Lord.” Ricketts said, in answer to the question from Professor Harrison at the other end of the conference table.

  NO! he chided himself. Stop thinking of him like that. He is Anubis, Lord of the Underworld reincarnated.

  Captain Ricketts had to be careful, the wrath of the new ruler knew no boundaries. Just last week he’d helped truss up a man and drop him into the pit. He had been stripped naked, bent backward until his spine snapped then with his genitals dangling, slowly lowered into a crowd of screaming dead. The poor guy probably forgot all about his broken back when he was low enough and teeth started tearing into him, dangly parts first. His crime had been sleeping with one of the Dark Lords concubines although he swore his innocence even until the last.

  “I’m sure she has killed them, too.” Lord Anubis said, unconcerned with his followers’ fate. “She needs to be stopped.”

  Half-naked teenagers flanked him, one feeding him grapes, the other fanning him softly with a staff of feathers. They were in gold body paint, their bare skin covered in painted hieroglyphics. They were twins, a boy and a girl, and it was common knowledge that Anubis slept with them both, usually at the same time. Their father was dead, fed to the zombies as an object lesson in obedience. Their mother was called to join in sometimes because the Professor had a mean streak in him, there was no other explanation for it. She drank doctor Stevens various concoctions though and if she cared what she was doing, it was buried deep inside and it stayed there. She obeyed.

  “Yes, your highness.” Ricketts agreed “We have hunter-killer teams searching for her.”

  Ricketts wasn’t so sure it had been her. The entire team he’d sent to take over the island town were enhanced with the super soldier serum, were heavily armed and had reported that they were completely in control. They had hundreds of undead at the gates and the townspeople were unarmed, quaking in fear. Scarlet was good at a lot of things but she was terrible with guns, she couldn’t hit water if she fell out of a boat. She preferred her little sticks and stealth. If the reports the team leader had given were accurate, it was impossible to sneak into the town and eliminate them one at a time. A more plausible reason for the radio silence was the townspeople rose up, probably had enough guns hidden away to fight back. Those damn rednecks and their infatuation with firearms.

  Some of the first teams he’d sent out to search for her didn’t know what she was capable of. They were looking for her but didn’t have explicit orders to eliminate her. All that had changed after the farmhouse incident. The rumors of her and the Road Angel teaming up had been confirmed if the last garbled cry from a dying man was accurate. If those two were together, working against the Movement, he could believe they had taken out his team on the island. Another scavenger team raiding a warehouse had dropped off the radar and they weren’t that far from the Island. They were assumed dead, too.

  It was going to be much harder than Canada to establish control. The smart thing to do would be to change their tactics. Not come in as a conquering army demanding obedience but play the long game. Get the people to want what they were offering, stop trying to cram it down their throats. Come in as liberators offering super powers, immunity from bites and the joys of the Anubis lifestyle.

  Except there really wasn’t a whole lot of joy for the lowly. Only for the elites, the council and their favorites. And they didn’t have time to wait six months or a year. They had a mobile army and they weren’t harvesting crops or raising livestock. They were on the move and needed supplies and they were used to taking what they needed and moving on. Their efforts in the States had come to a screeching halt.

  Ricketts was committed, though. He’d do everything his Lord and Master commanded because the benefits were simply too good. In his wildest fantasies where he was rich and handsome, where he won the Powerball Jackpot, he had never dreamed he would have so many beautiful women nearly begging to get into his bed. Into his good graces and all the luxury that entailed. He had all the finer things in life he could never afford when he was a security guard making fourteen bucks an hour, living in a lousy apartment and being constantly swiped left by the girls on Tinder. He had a fancy suite, servants that cooked his meals, more Rolex watches than he even knew existed and five Ferrari’s in the underground garage. Most important of all, nobody swiped left. Nobody rejected him. Whether they liked his attentions or not, they all ground their hips and moaned with pleasure. They’d better, if they didn’t want him disappointed, if they didn’t want to be sent back to the front lines as a pleasure girl or cook.

  Maybe with a few more losses, he could broach the subject again of just ruling over the northern areas. They already controlled most of Canada, wasn’t that enough? It wasn’t too late to rustle up some herds of cattle, get some crops in the ground. There was still enough food in warehouses to tide them over for another year.

  Or better, have one of his lieutenants bring it up. Suggest it at one of the infrequent strategy meetings. That would be the way to go, he could gauge the response and act accordingly, depending on what Lord Anubis did. If it angered him, then he’d have the man severely reprimanded for being a fool. If the Lord considered it, agreed it would be for the best then he could take credit for the idea. Win-win, he thought.

  He had an army of thousands at his disposal. They could easily defeat any town they wanted but that wasn’t the point. They didn’t want to kill everyone, they wanted them to join the Movement. The Anubis Religion was the new way, the new truth and they needed followers, not empty towns. They needed the worship of the world, true believers that willingly tithed and eagerly joined the ranks.

  “Perhaps the leader of our undefeatable army should try a different approach. Devise better plans.” High Priest Charles suggested, his chubby fingers folded under his chin. Ricketts couldn’t remember which exact title he’d been granted, the Grand High Poohbah of Butt Crack Buggery or something. He just knew the repugnant, ass kissing, brown nosing bastard had a habit of stabbing people in the back. He had been a Minister of the Crown, or so he claimed, that had been in one of the many towns they had assimilated in Canada. He wanted his friends and toadies to sit at the inner circle table. He couldn’t come up with any ideas of his own but he was quick to point out everyone else’s shortcomings.

  Ricketts wasn’t worried about him; the liver lipped butt kisser had only weaseled his way up the chain of command a few months ago. Ricketts been there since the beginning. He, Doc Stevens and Professor Harrison had started this whole movement, his position was secure, he assured himself. Lord Anubis wouldn’t turn against his earliest and most loyal follower. He wasn’t like Scarlet, he wasn’t a traitor.

  Months ago, in the first dark weeks after the undead uprising, before they achieved the success they had and were just dreaming, Ricketts the security guard, Dr. Stevens the scientist and Professor Harrison the Egyptologist had gotten drunk on wine and discussed their future. The world was their oyster if they would but take it.

  “The masses like to be poor and subjugated.” Stevens said. As a scientist, he prided himself for being an atheist. He looked down on all religions as a crutch for the ignorant.

  “Look at the devout in third world countries.” he said. “They’re on the verge of starvation, their children have no shoes, but give their money to men wearing gold rings on every finger and have diamond encrusted shoelaces. Religion is the opium of the masses, as Mr. Marx famously said.”

  “Our religion will be better than all of the rest.” Harrison insisted. “Because we can perform miracles and show proofs like the Christian god. We’ll conquer with the sword like the Muslim god. We’ll be like the god of the internet and give them what they want. Sex, sex and more sex. It’ll be the second coming of Anubis, it all makes sense when you consider the world has been destroyed by the undead. The jackal headed god was the Lord of the Underworld. What’s old is new again and this religion is one of the oldest in the world. The people will believe.”

&nbs
p; “They need to be controlled.” Ricketts had said. “My uniform gives me the illusion of authority. Sometimes I would order people around just to see how far I could push it and they always responded. Even if they got mad, they were always a little afraid. I’m a nobody, just a guy with a flashlight, a nameplate and a tin badge. We need a martial atmosphere that will cause fear if they resist but offer rewards to be a part of it. A militant religion like the Knights Templar or the Nazi’s.”

  They had done it. They had created a new religion using bits and pieces from others and making up what they wanted. It had worked, people believed and they had devout followers. The problem with the Americans was twofold, though. In the more pragmatic and sober meetings with his mostly Canadian lieutenants, they had discussed why the conquering of the States wasn’t working according to plan. For one, the Americans naturally fought back. With their ridiculously outdated Declaration of Independence, they thought they were all created equal. With all their guns, they thought they could back up that belief with force. They had bad attitudes and rallying cries like “Remember the Alamo” or “Come and Take it.”

  One of the first strongholds they had taken in northern Minnesota had been a blood bath. Most of the townspeople had died and he’d lost a lot of men, too. Ricketts had them completely surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned. When one of his officers demanded they surrender, their leader had shouted down from the top of the wall.

  “We’ve got a saying here in Lancaster.” he spat.