Taking It Back wfotd-2
Page 21
I just shook my head and then Tommy asked Charlie, “We called you on the radio, why didn’t you answer?”
Charlie looked sheepish as he retrieved it from his pack. “Forgot to turn it on,” he said, fiddling with it. I couldn’t blame him since I forgot he even had it.
I changed the subject. “What did you find upriver?”
Tommy jumped in. “We didn’t see anything going north, which made sense since anyone in their right mind wouldn’t go to the city during the Upheaval.” Tommy cast a sly glance at me before continuing. “But we saw on the other side of the bridges people had left notes and markings as they fled the city. Those that used the canal, anyway. The closer we got to the city, the more notes we saw. Then, when we were about to turn around and head back, we saw the note in your hand. Angela wouldn’t have noticed it except it was so odd.”
I looked down at the note. Just like my brother to do something to get noticed, even in the middle of a crisis. It read Eagles at Fort St. Louis’ in large black print, then in smaller writing, it read ‘Tell John Talon his brother lives and will look for him at the Leap.’ I turned the note over in my hands and then gently folded it and put it in my pocket next to Ellie’s rings. At the moment it was precious to me, as it was the last thing my brother had left for me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly to Tommy and Angela, meeting their eyes in turn. “Thank you.”
“So what’s the plan, man?” Tommy asked, his hand on the throttle of the boat.
I looked around and realized the city had nothing I wanted. It was a nightmare to try anything and whoever was still living in there could have it. We would just get killed if we went farther in. If I wanted a close look at the city, a better bet would be to approach from the water side, like the lake. Even now, drifting as we were, we could hear the moans of thousands upon thousands of zombies. In a few years it would be safer as the zombies decayed past being a danger. But it would take years to clean them out to make the city livable. Not my work. Maybe Jake’s, in time. But not mine.
“We head back to the community, drop off the supplies and get Angela checked out and fed properly.” Angela shot me a look of pure gratitude. “After that, we head south as fast as we can. My brother has been out there with his family for over a year and I want to go get him.”
“Do you know where he is?” Charlie asked.
“Yes,” was all I had to say. The note put an idea in my head and Charlie and I had a few things to discuss.
26
We made for Leport as quickly as we could, yet it was still late evening when we finally pulled up to the dock. Charlie and I delivered the bag of medicines to the doctor and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she saw what we had procured. Tommy took Angela to the doctor as well and was declared healthy enough, if not well-fed. I talked to Nate for a brief time and he told me that he had figured I was successful when he saw the smoke from the burning hospital.
I went back to my home and after a brief reunion with Sarah and Jake, I spoke about the trip I needed to take in the morning. Sarah listened, then nodded.
“You know where he is, then?” she asked, looking at the note.
I nodded. “When we were kids, we used to go to Starved Rock all the time. My dad was a big fan and liked to take us to the hidden places that most people didn’t know about. As we grew older, we went back as adults with our families. If he’s anywhere, he’s there, and I have to say if I had thought of it, I would have gone there as well.”
Sarah looked at me funny. “You sound like it’s a place you want to go live.”
I shrugged. “It has a lot to offer defensively and if you’re into rustic living the river and forest would feed you forever. Indians had lived there for thousands of years.”
“What about the community you worked so hard to build and protect?” Sarah asked.
I gave it some thought before answering. “Sometimes I get the feeling I’m outliving my usefulness. Did the community fall apart when I was gone? Did the people not get fed or get water? No, they have managed to get on with their lives. Not the way they were before, but they are learning. Me, I wake up with a slightly uneasy feeling that people are whispering behind my back, saying things like ‘What has he done for us lately?’”
Sarah frowned. “That’s not true and you know it. Everyone respects you and nearly everyone here owes you their lives and the ability to go on living.”
“That’s the point. They owe me. And people as a rule do not like owing. It works on them and they wait for the time when the debt is called, so they can shout in righteous anger ‘Aha! I knew you’d call that debt in!’” I sat down and Jake toddled over to me, carrying a toy truck. His beautiful brown eyes lifted to mine and I picked up my baby, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, my three days worth of beard tickling him.
“Where will you find peace, John? Where will you be happy?” Sarah asked, looking down at me.
I shook my head. “Maybe I never will. But I do know one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you with me wherever I am.”
Jake squeaked as his daddy’s lap suddenly became crowded.
In the morning, I headed down to the dock, Charlie following behind me. We were not going to take the pontoon boat this time, since we weren’t really on a sight-seeing tour and there was only the two of us. We got into the North River Seahawk boat, a small, twenty-four foot aluminum craft with a small cabin on the front. It was a decent find in the warehouses by the canal and we used it occasionally for ferrying across the water. I had planned on taking it to Lake Michigan, but not right now. It would serve well as a means of transportation and a good overnight cabin to sleep in. I figured it would take us the better part of a day to get to Starved Rock since it was roughly seventy-five miles from Leport to the park.
We pulled out from the town and I waved goodbye to Sarah and Jake as Charlie waved to Rebecca and Julia. I was not as heavily armed as before, carrying my trusty M1 carbine and my SIG. Charlie had his usual armament and we were provisioned for three days as usual. We carried additional rations in the boat since I had hopes of bringing my brother and his family back. If he wasn’t at Starved Rock, I was going to have to figure him gone.
We headed downstream, moving at a good clip. I hadn’t expected any trouble, but we had to pass Joliet again and I had the feeling they were keeping a watch for us. We had been moving back and forth on the rails to Coal City and beyond and it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine someone trying to disrupt that process.
We passed by Romeoville and I remembered the fight we had there. Charlie remembered as well and we both shared a look. Farther south, we threw a wave to the people at Freeport, and I was surprised to see the number of people out and about, tending to gardens and making repairs to fences, windows, and such. It looked so normal that I had to do a double take. I shook my head to clear it and caught Charlie doing the same.
Half an hour later, we were on alert. We were passing close to Joslin and the air seemed tense. I couldn’t put a finger on what it was, but my instincts were screaming at me to be careful. Something was wrong. I didn’t see anything on the banks, save for the usual ghouls that patrolled the area, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for us.
Suddenly, Charlie slowed the boat and headed for the canal bank. Several zombies were nearby at the parking lot for the county courthouse. I found it oddly amusing that there were more than a few that had on the blaze orange jumpsuits of county detainees.
“What’s up?” I asked, jumping over the side and grabbing a rope. The zombies were about one hundred yards away and not an immediate danger.
“There’s a chain in the canal.” Charlie pointed along the bank and sure enough, a chain was looped around an abandoned car, the links disappearing under the surface of the water. On the other side of the canal, the chain emerged and was looped around another car.
“Nice,” I said, running over to the car. I was just ab
out to lift the chain when a shot rang out from the courthouse, whipping past my ear and plowing into the blacktop. I dove to the front of the car and hunkered down as Charlie threw up his rifle and fired twice at a second-story window. I poked my head around the car and cursed. Three orange-suited zombies were closing fast and I couldn’t get up without running the risk of getting shot. Well, crap.
I stretched out on the ground in front of the car and took aim at the zombies. No good. From my angle, I couldn’t get head shots. I used the only alternative I had, which was to bring them down to my level. I aimed at the nearest one’s knee and fired, the. 30 caliber bullet easily shattering the joint and bringing the zombie down. A second shot entered the top of its head and it stayed down permanently. I dropped the second one the same way, then ducked back as another round kicked up stinging stones in my face.
“Shit!” I yelled, spinning back to cover, wiping my eyes.
“You hit?” yelled Charlie, firing at the spot where he thought the shots came from.
“Not yet, but he’s getting warmer!”
I couldn’t stay where I was, because I could see more zombies headed my way and I couldn’t get up because the sniper was still shooting at me. To top off the fun, still more zombies were coming this way, attracted by the shots and potential feeding and I still had yet to remove the damned chain!
I had to do something, so I rolled out and shot a zombie dead, then rolled back as a barrage of shots punched holes in the car I was hiding behind. The shots proved to be just what Charlie needed and he fired one telling shot.
“Got him!” he called.
“Finally!” I yelled back. I scampered around to the back and removed the chain from the back of the car. At least ten zombies were bearing down on me and I dragged the chain to the water and dropped it in. Charlie had fired up the boat and was moving alongside the canal bank. I ran for a small way, away from the congregating zombies, and jumped the four feet of water to land clumsily on the boat.
“Thanks,” I said, rubbing a sore knee.
“No problem. We’re going to need to do something about Joslin,” Charlie said.
“Well, you know my solution to problems like that,” I replied.
“You wouldn’t happen to have been milking O’Leary’s cow way back in 1871, were you?”
“Good idea. We’ll try that in the fall when the winds kick up out of the south.”
“You’re nuts.”
Joseph Talluto
Taking It Back
27
We pulled away from Joslin, keeping a sharp eye out for any additional traps or snipers. I used Charlie’s scope and spotted what might have been two or three people on rooftops looking us over with binoculars. I sent a shot at one, causing them to duck for cover. It was over eight hundred yards and I would have been stunned by a hit, but I’ll take a duck at that range.
“Did you elect him?” Charlie asked from the pilot’s seat.
I laughed, understanding his reference. “No, but I nominated him real good.”
We continued to head south, passing through familiar territory. We had been this way earlier this year and I had to shake my head at the memories. I was still amazed Charlie and I made it out of Coal City alive. Too lucky, I thought.
The sun was fast approaching its zenith when we moved around the bend where we had stopped to go to State Center Bravo. I wondered how Trevor was doing since he and his men had gone in search of answers at the other state center. Charlie swung the boat around to the dock we had spent the night at before and we quickly reconnoitered some additional gasoline for the boat. Our buddy from the machine shop was still there, although he looked to have been chewed a bit by local fauna.
After the brief stop, we moved on to unfamiliar waters. I was sure of where we were according to the map I had, but I had no clue as to what lay ahead regarding the towns that were on the river or what else we might encounter. The first town we were supposed to come in contact with was Morris, but since it had a major highway running through it, I did not think it would have escaped the infection. But I have been wrong before and this might be one of those times.
As we pulled under the bridge to Morris, it was immediately apparent the infection had indeed struck this town. I could see shadowy shapes flitting from building to building and the omnipresent white flags were everywhere. The town seemed abandoned, but I knew there were still occupants, although likely none living.
I shook my head at Charlie as he slowed down and we sped up again, leaving Morris in our wake. We moved down a long stretch of river with untended farms on both sides. We could see the silos of farms in the distance, but had no desire to investigate. I had to assume that since Morris had been hit, that the outlying farms and small towns were hit as well when the ghouls ran out of food in the main communities they headed out to the country. No single family home could withstand a siege from hundreds of hungry, determined zombies. I had seen too many homes with the windows smashed in, the doors broken, and bloodstains marking the walls and floors.
The next town we were supposed to come close to was Seneca, which was a small, older community on the river. If I remembered correctly, there was a row of homes on an upper portion of the town, almost on cliffs. If they could have made a coordinated stand and blocked the entrance to the subdivision, there might be survivors.
We slowed to an easy drift as we approached the town, passing several barges abandoned at the side of the river. I couldn’t see the town, but I could see the long dock on the south side of the river with many boats still moored. I took that as a positive sign. My confidence was further bolstered when we spotted a lone man standing on the bridge, a scoped hunting rifle balanced on his hip. He was waving to us and I shrugged my shoulders at Charlie and, standing on the roof of the cabin, I tossed a mooring line up to him.
The man caught it with his free hand and looped it around a bridge support, holding on to it tightly. Charlie cut the engine and the boat slowly swung around under the bridge, until we came out facing the other way and facing the man on the bridge. He was about fifty years old, dressed simply, with graying black hair peeking out from beneath a worn camouflage cap. I could see an additional revolver on his belt and the bridge had been blocked at one end with a chain link gate.
“Howdy!” the man called down to us. “Nice to see another live soul ‘round these parts. Name’s Josh Courtner. Where y’all from?”
I smiled at the man’s southern accent although we were still in what many considered northern Illinois. “We’re from Leport. I’m John Talon and my partner at the tiller is Charlie James. How’s your town?”
The gentleman considered the question for a minute, then replied, “We’re gettin’ by. The kids are complainin’ they’re bored, but that’s ‘bout the worst of it. Did you pass Morris?”
“Yes,” I said. “We didn’t go in, but I got the impression it was empty, nothing living.”
“We’ve thought so for months, but never got around to checking it out. We’re too busy tryin’ to make a livin’ in a world gone dead.” Josh seemed amused by his statement, but I didn’t press him further. I had seen enough to know that unless he went in there with some decent firepower and cool shooters, someone was going to die.
“What brings y'all down the river?” Josh asked. “Not that I mind, it's great there's another town that's alive out there, we thought we were a little alone, here.”
“I'm looking for my brother,” I said. “His name is Mike Talon, he would have been traveling with his family. He's about my size, dark hair, and blue eyes. I'm not sure when he might have passed this way.”
Josh thought for a minute. “Would this brother of yours been carrying a 9mm Beretta, by any chance?” he asked.
I brightened, suddenly hopeful. “Yeah, he would. Did you see him?”
Josh nodded. “I reckon so. He showed up along the river late last year, right before the snows became serious. He and his family looked like they had been traveling a while and some of our
local boys thought to have a little sport. You brother asked for some supplies and our town idiot thought it would be a good idea to make your brother sing for it. Your brother sang, although from what I heard, he looked like he was gonna kill somebody. When the song was over, the idiot stiffed your brother, laughing and drinking a beer. Your brother waited until the dumbass was about fifty yards away then shot the bottle out of his hand. After that he got his supplies. No one wanted to mess with someone who could shoot like that.”
I grinned. Mike was hell on wheels with a handgun.
Charlie nudged me. “You have any other family out there? Any more of you and we'll whip the whole damn zombie horde single-handed.”
I shook my head. “Mike's great with a handgun, but can't shoot for shit with a long gun.”
“Anyway,” Josh continued, “he was welcome to stay, but he said he needed to get downriver and wait for his brother. Said something about a fort, although I don't know what the hell he was talkin' about. I lived here my whole life and there ain’t never been no fort anywhere near here.”
“This was before winter?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Thanks. We'll see you when we are heading back,” I promised.
“We'll be here,” Josh said, letting the line go and releasing our boat. We drifted for a bit, then Charlie righted us, and we headed farther down river. I looked at our map and saw we were supposed to clear Marseilles within the hour. The sun was moving into the afternoon and soon we would have to find a place to spend the night. I was hoping that we would have been able to reach Starved Rock and my brother by nightfall, but it was looking like it was going to have to be in the morning. We had a decent ways to go and I didn’t see us reaching him soon.
28
We moved farther down the river and I was once again struck at how quiet it was. I could clearly hear the river moving along its banks, the sudden splash of fish and frogs and the increasing whine of insects. Part of me wondered if this might have been what this area was like back in the day before humans started to settle along it in force.