“Got it,” Fish sat back. “We just have to go hand-to-hand with swords and spears against the biggest and baddest scabs. Makes sense.” Fish shook his head. “You’re a piece of work, Doc.”
Doctor Tripp scowled and turned back to her computer.
“Fish, she’s just telling us what you wanted her to find out,” I said in defense of the Doctor.
“Yeah…” Fish sighed, and then his eyes grew dark. “Just wish, for once, Doc, you could give us some good news.”
DJ chuckled. “Like what, Fish? Save you money on your car insurance?”
Everyone shared a smile.
“Good work,” Campbell said as he patted Doctor Tripp on the shoulder. “We need to know this kind of stuff.”
Our meeting broke and we went our separate ways.
The depressing findings that Doctor Tripp unveiled with studying Tikel’s arm were disturbing. Scabs were already tough. They were hard to kill and knowing that they were only going to get harder overtime was not a good feeling. Normally, with an AR15 or AK47, you didn’t need armor piercing rounds. Now we would have to find some. I doubted we could make them with the equipment we had.
The good news was that it appeared to be only the bigger, stronger scabs that we would have to worry about. Other than them, our weapons seemed to work fine.
The question that was dancing around my head was how much of this did scabs realize? If we ran into other ogre-sized scabs, would they know they were virtually bulletproof? Would they figure it out and use it to their advantage? Have they already? Tikel definitely used his shoulder and back as a shield when we fought him.
I made a mental note to try and talk to him at some point and see what he thought. For the time being, there wasn’t anything I could do but hope the Tikels of the world were few and far between.
I finished my preparations to leave and bedded down for the night. Our vehicle train was moving just as the sun crested above the tree line.
Campbell and DJ had mapped a new route for us to take. Maneuvering the back roads all the way to the Florida-Georgia border was long and monotonous. The biggest town we passed had four buildings.
By August 23rd, we had crossed Interstate 10. That had taken the whole day because we had to find a bridge that didn’t have off-ramps to the highway. Just like Interstate 95, the road was jammed in many areas.
Zombie numbers had thinned to the point of being almost nonexistent. The drones were able to pick out scab traps and we avoided those areas all together.
By the 24th, we were on Route 90 heading west. It was only a two-lane road that ran parallel with the Georgia State line. People must have thought it was a good alternative to the main thoroughfares, because we regularly ran into car crashes, traffic jams, and even a few large groups of zombies.
When we neared Tallahassee, we decided to enter Georgia. Taking a wide arc around the city after what we had seen in Orlando seemed like the best option, even if it added an additional three days to the trip.
Driving only six to eight hours a day hurt our time table. Driving at night was not an option and we would have to stop early enough to find a decent location to settle down before the sun set. Too many times, though, we found ourselves back tracking, pushing cars out of the way, or getting lost in the country. The overcast days also meant zombies were out, further delaying us.
On August 30th, we were bedding down for the night near Leonia. You couldn’t even call it a town. We stayed at a small Baptist Church, parking our vehicles near the north side where there was already a wooden fence.
The loss of Reggie, Daniel and the Major seemed like a distant memory, even though it hadn’t even been two weeks. It’s strange how that happens these days. The fear of getting used to losing people was slowly becoming a reality. In some ways, that worked out. Who wanted to mourn for weeks or months? A decaying morale was just as dangerous as the Zulus and scabs.
DJ received some grave news from Camp Holly. They determined they were seeing the outer bands of either a Tropical Storm or a Hurricane.
Weather was always a concern when we were setting up Camp Holly, and precautions were made when we constructed the newer parts of the facility. The problem was, without Doppler radar or weather satellites, there was no way to know where the storm was coming from. Even before the world fell apart, knowing which way the wind was going to blow was important. You would know how to park vehicles, secure loose items that could not be brought indoors, and the like.
That was bad news for us, too. Hurricanes could be huge. Outer bands, like the ones Camp Holly was seeing, could be coming from the Gulf Coast or the East Coast. There was just no way to tell, which also meant we didn’t know if it was going to hit us as well.
We found out just after 10 PM that night.
Luckily, when we realized we were at least going to see part of the storm, we parked the vehicles up against the wall of the church. That deflected most of the wind and debris flying through the air.
I stayed in the CDC bus with Boomer, Karina, Doctor Tripp, Jenna, and Preacher. Everyone else was divided between Big Red and the Stryker.
The wind howled with the ferocity of an angry God. I had been through a number of hurricanes and tropical storms. This really wasn’t much different than those, other than being trapped inside a vehicle rather than a house.
In reality, since we were far inland, there wasn’t much to worry about. Of course, the occasional tree would fall from ground saturation and/or wind, but for the most part, hurricanes were an inconvenience to those not near the ocean and the tidal surge. The biggest fear was the random tornados that would pop up when the wind died down.
Karina and Preacher had been through a couple of storms themselves, but Doctor Tripp was new to them.
“It’s loud out there,” Doctor Tripp complained, staring out the front windshield. It was black outside, and I think she was just peering outside with intrigue rather than trying to see anything. “How long does this last?”
“Depends,” I said. “Hurricane Francis sat on top of us for over a day. Charlie rolled over the State in less than four hours.”
“That’s not real comforting,” she said, grievously.
“It’s okay, Doc,” Preacher said, smiling. “Our bus is pretty damn heavy, not to mention the building is blocking most of the wind.”
“And flying debris?” she asked, anxiously.
I laughed.
“Doctor Tripp…the armor on the bus is tough enough to stop small arms fire. I wouldn’t worry about a few flying branches.”
“I’m more worried about the fences,” Jenna pointed out. “No way they’re going to be there when the storm is over.”
I hadn’t thought about that. Our fences were specially designed so we could quickly deploy them from Big Red. If we lost them, that meant we lost security. Replacing our perimeter defenses would cost time and energy.
“How fast do you think the wind is blowing?” Karina asked.
“Not too fast,” I told her. “Maybe eighty miles an hour.”
“That’s ‘not too fast?’” Doctor Tripp scoffed.
“Not every hurricane is like Katrina,” I mused. “We’ll be fine.”
Boomer whined as a gust of wind shook the bus.
Karina sat down and consoled him.
“It’s okay, boy,” she whispered as she scratched behind his ears.
“I wonder how General Bolduc and the refugees are doing,” I said aloud.
“They should have hit the Bogdons by now,” Jenna said dryly.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I wish we could communicate with them. Sergeant Burghardt said they were going to try and get a HAM radio once they solidified their position with the farmers.”
Jenna’s face grew dark. “I hope they kill every one of those bastards.”
I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything. It was still a touchy subject with me.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. I think we all were playing out the fall of the Bogdon Mill in our head
s.
The wind began to grow eerie, whipping and howling around the bus.
Preacher broke the silence.
“So, tomorrow is the big day?” Preacher asked me with a slight grin.
I looked at the floor boards nervously.
“Yeah, weather permitting. Campbell said we should be in range to fly a drone over my parents’ land.”
“What kind of neighborhood do they live in?” Karina asked.
“It’s not really a neighborhood. They own twenty acres. Most of it is filled with trees.”
“Oh, I was expecting a farm,” Jenna sighed. “How many people live around them?”
“Everyone there owns the same amount of land, more or less. People that live out there like their space.”
Preacher’s face grew solemn.
“Christian, I just want you to be prepared. You know…for the worst.”
“Preacher,” I said testily, “no offense, but I’ve been through a lot lately. I doubt I will find anything there that will shock me.”
I truly felt that way, too.
Over the previous five months, I had killed my roommate, or at least thought I did. I had to kill Judy as she changed into a monster. I fought scabs, even hand-to-hand in some instances. I’d been betrayed, lost friends, and watched the world crumble. I knew that even if I found my parents or sister walking around as zombies, I would get past it. In many ways, I had already written them off.
“I just worry about you,” Preacher smiled.
“Don’t worry, my skin is pretty thick.”
Well, I thought it was thick. If I knew then what I know now, I would have never said that.
CHAPTER 18
Family Reunion
September 1st Morning
Unfortunately, the weather didn’t entirely clear up the next day. We spent the last day of August hunkered down in our vehicles as the wind continued to blow and bands of storm clouds dropped buckets of rain. It wasn’t nearly as powerful as the previous night, but enough so that Campbell scrubbed proceeding forward for the day.
Jenna was right to worry about the fence. The storm swept half of it away and the rest was turned into little more than scrap. With our security blanket gone we would have to reorganize how we set up for the night. This meant no more open areas between the vehicles to congregate, and we would have to find secure buildings or stay in our vehicles for safety.
On the first day of September, we moved out.
In contrast to the previous two days, there were no clouds. No rain. Just a beating, hellacious sun, sucking up all the moisture that had recently fallen. It drove the humidity level through the roof. Even the air-conditioning in the vehicles didn’t make up for the blistering heat.
Damage from the storm was extensive.
While living in a large town or city, it was common to see the occasional downed tree, branches littering the streets, etcetera, after a hurricane. But it was different in wooded areas. Forests were unlimited ammunition stores for hurricanes. The small two-lane roads were covered with downed branches, scattered debris, and pretty much anything that wasn’t bolted down or rooted too deep in the ground. Without Big Red, there was little chance we would have made it through, even with the Stryker.
Big Red carved a path through all the debris Mother Nature had deposited on the roads. It was the tropical version of plowing snow, leaving a wake of cleared roadway behind us.
I rode in the Stryker as we crossed into Okaloosa County where my parents lived. There was little sign of life as we trudged forward. We passed the occasional zombie, but there were no scab traps anywhere. Zombies, though, had plenty of places to hide. The surrounding woods were thick and large.
Campbell was scouting ahead with Eagle One and found a spot where he wanted to make camp.
We had taken back roads, though you could barely call them roads. The recent rain from the storm had created plenty of holes in the red sand they used as pavement. The CDC bus bounced and jostled as it trudged through the muck. I felt sorry for those inside, though we were not fairing much better in the Stryker.
Our proposed camp was a house with an area the size of a football field cleared of trees and brush. A nearby pond supplied water.
We pulled up to the pond a hundred feet from the house and I immediately went on edge.
Four corpses were laid in front of the house. All of them were missing their heads and had been arranged carefully side-by-side.
“What do you think, Captain?” DJ asked over the comms.
“Not sure, DJ,” Campbell responded from the CDC bus. “Enrique, do a loop around the house. Keep an eye out for people in the windows.”
Caution, I had learned, was something we had to have, especially after meeting the Bogdons. We didn’t know what type of people we would run into.
Sheriff Green was riding next to me, staring at the gunner console as Coleman moved the turret around in FLIR mode to see if anyone was hiding. Enrique put it into drive and slowly began to circle the house.
“I don’t think anyone’s here,” I mumbled.
“Why do you think that?” Nate asked with his newly acquired lisp, grossly affecting anything he said with the ‘TH’ sound.
“If they were staying here, why leave the bodies at all? They could have burned them or taken them into the woods. If I had to guess, I’d say someone came here, looted the place, and left.”
The Sheriff gave a slight chuckle.
“Maybe you should have been a cop,” he suggested.
“I was too lazy to be a cop,” I returned.
Coleman laughed.
“There are a lot of lazy cops. Uh, no offense, Nate,” he added.
We continued our scan of the house and came up with nothing.
Campbell ordered all of us to park and disembark.
When Dobson was alive and still leading us, that would mean I had to stay put while everyone else cleared the area. The Captain wasn’t as cautious. I wasn’t sure if that was because he trusted my abilities more than the Major did, or because he was more careless. I was hoping it wasn’t the latter.
Truthfully, Boomer and I made the best team when scouting out buildings, and the Captain knew that. That is probably why he ordered Fish, Nate, and me to clear the house.
Coleman stayed in the Stryker keeping an eye on our surroundings while Karina and Pittman took up guard on the bus and Big Red. The rest fanned out to do a sweep around the homestead.
With Boomer at my side, still slightly limping but much improved since sustaining his injury, we cleared the two story house in ten minutes. There were no zombies or scabs, and no sign of the living either. What we did find was a bunch of empty pantries, closets, bed frames without mattresses, and more evidence of looting. I was amazed there was still a kitchen sink.
“If I had to guess, they scavenged this place over a month ago,” Sheriff Green said when everyone met up on the porch of the house. “Those bodies have been decaying awhile, and the building has enough rot damage to sink Noah’s Ark.”
“Agreed,” Campbell said. “Jenna didn’t find any recent tracks or footprints. I think this will be a good place for the night.”
My eagerness got the best of me and I stepped forward.
“Sir? When will we—”
Campbell raised his hand, stopping me in mid-sentence.
“Once we have secured the area, we will fly Eagle Two down to your parents’ house. You’ll have to direct me, of course.”
I nodded.
Originally, I had argued that we should just drive directly to my parents’ property. Campbell’s counter proposal had merit, though. Figuring that we would be stopping for at least one night, finding a decent location to plant roots was the more important. Without our nifty fence security line, we would be hard-pressed to find a decent secure location before the sun went down. The local woods were much too thick, and we needed a place with good visibility.
We parked the vehicles around the house, allowing us to exit from the second
story if needed and jump right on top of them.
DJ’s first task was to set up the HAM antenna. He spent the next couple of hours trying to reach Camp Holly. Every attempt was unsuccessful. We suspected that the hurricane had knocked out their communications and we all hoped our suspicions were correct.
By four o’clock, we were ready to send out Eagle Two.
Fish, Karina, Campbell and I were in the CDC bus watching the laptop screen as the drone flew over the woods.
I had only been to my parents’ new home half a dozen times since my father retired from the Air Force. I had the maps to look at, but with so many dirt roads not listed on it, navigating would be difficult. It didn’t take long to orientate the drone, however, and the flight to their home was short.
My parents had built a 2200 square foot house on the property and cleared enough trees around it to park five or six vehicles in the front, and leave a half acre cleared in the back yard.
Raised garden beds lined the back of their house. My mother and father had tried their green thumbs during retirement, but now the gardens were laden with weeds and grass.
“Someone’s home…” Fish muttered as the drone flew over the front of the house.
My eyes widened. Two cars and a truck were parked in front.
“Those are my parent’s vehicles…and my sister’s!” I said excitedly.
“Calm down,” Fish grunted. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
I shook my head.
“It does mean something. My dad took my mother to the hospital the night of the Awakening. He must have made it home!”
Campbell and Fish exchanged concerned expressions. Karina smiled at me and gave me a hug.
“That’s great, Christian!” she exclaimed.
“Hold on, kid. If your dad made it back, it doesn’t mean he didn’t…well…doesn’t mean he is still alive,” Fish pointed out with a little reservation.
“I know, Fish,” I said evenly, “but it means there is a chance. And if my sister’s car is still there, there’s a chance for her, too. Maybe even my mother. I mean, she was sick, but so was I. If whatever makes me immune is, like Doctor Tripp thinks, hereditary, then we have to assume—”
The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 3): Crusade Page 31