“What were the two of you talking about?” she asked.
“Well, not that it is any of your business, but I wanted to move faster, and Danny thinks the group is too exhausted for that,” Duke shrugged.
“Danny is right. If more people croak, there will soon be only the three of us left. That wouldn‘t exactly improve our chances of reaching that town. Show a little patience, Duke.”
“Okay, what the hell. I‘ll let them crawl on.” With these words he slowed down a bit and was passed by the other members of the group. Pam mumbled something when she retreated that was obviously not meant for Duke’s ears. Pam, Danny and he had traveled together for some time now. To be precise, since the day they had to leave that fucking vacation home near the lake. When Duke thought of that day, it seemed like a hundred years ago. If that smug juicehead pilot had not acted like some kind of savior, he and his two friends might still have gotten things under control. He tried to concentrate on other issues. Who knew back then what that day might lead to?
The group moved at a decent speed, certainly better than Duke’s mood seemed to indicate. He himself was surprised how they blindly accepted orders given by him and his two companions. They willingly saw him as their leader because they respected his strength. When considering the group’s dangerous and arduous journey this entire time, Duke had saved some of them on more than one occasion. During one of their encounters with the undead, he had grabbed a zombie by the throat, lifted it like a rag doll and snapped its neck like a dry twig. Since then, no one dared to challenge him because of respect and admiration, or due to the fear of one of them becoming his next punching bag.
For a while, Duke had been wearing thick, brown leather gloves, and there were two claw hammers hanging from leather loops on his belt. He had also placed a sawed-off shotgun, which he had found in a stranded car, in a loop on his backpack. Duke only used this weapon when it was absolutely necessary. Firearms generally had a devastating effect on the undead, but the noise of gunshots also often attracted too many unwanted visitors. In recent times, this factor could easily cause your death. So, he mostly relied on his strong arms as more practical weapons.
There was some noise coming from the head of the ragtag group of survivors. Duke saw the vanguard had passed the last line of trees. He walked faster in order to catch up with them. When he got there, he looked around. After the dense forest of the past several miles, the ground now sloped downwards. Trees were more widely spaced, and in the distance he saw a line of hills interspersed with huge boulders. In front of the hills was a wide plain with sparse vegetation, through which a paved path twisted. At the end of the path, some kind of pass led to an area they could not see from here. This must be where Sanctuary was. Everything seemed perfect: The wide plain could be easily seen, and the pass was the only way to get behind the line of mountains. Such a place could be easily defended with few troops. Duke’s expression brightened. The goal of their journey was directly ahead. He nodded toward the group and ordered them to stay together. They would be there soon.
19Strategy Games
Ray updated the others during lunch in the cafeteria. After Ray had apologized to Josh earlier today, Josh sat with them again. He was rather taciturn, but as Ray seemed to believe his father, Josh appeared to have calmed down. He himself had known as little of the entire story as all the others. He hoped the other ones would continue to trust him in the future.
Scott shoved a steaming potato in his mouth and asked: “So, what are your plans now, Ray?”
“Our goal is still to get to Sanctuary. I just hope we’ll be better prepared after this afternoon’s conversation.”
“Do you already know who you want to take along?” Chris asked.
“I’ve got an idea, but I still have to ask the persons in question. Considering that the two rescue troops from the USS George Washington did not return, this probably won’t be a walk in the park.” Ray knew his friends would come along if he asked them, but it was not that simple. Last night before falling asleep he had pondered which team would be best for this mission. Phil was out of the question, since Fiona and Robbie needed their father here. Chris and Gregory were too important for Fort Weeks because they both worked in the communication center. This also applied to Josh’s work in the hospital, particularly now as almost every bed there was occupied and his mother was one of the patients.
Scott, on the other hand, was not indispensable for the army base, and he would be worth his weight in gold during the mission to Sanctuary. He had a lot of experience with those monsters out there. His enormous strength, his close-quarters ax fighting skills and his almost unconditional loyalty might make a difference in decisive moments. And Ray also knew his friend harbored the hidden hope of finding his family at Sanctuary.
Pelletier and Dixon would probably suggest to have two or three soldiers accompany the group. At first glimpse it appeared logical to take along militarily trained men who could help if things turned serious. Yet after hearing the news about the previous failed missions Ray saw things in a much different light.
“You still want that?” Scott asked, smacking his lips and pointing at Ray’s plate, which was still half filled with potatoes and bacon.
“Here, big boy,” Ray said with a grin and slid the plate toward him.
“Scott should definitely come along,” Chris said. “If he’s no longer here, we could easily feed an additional ten people.” The remark caused loud laughter all around the table. After the horror of the past few days, everyone enjoyed a return to a little lighthearted normalcy.
“Ha-ha, very funny. I would gladly walk all the way to Sanctuary, just to avoid hearing your stupid remarks,” Scott growled.
Everyone laughed again, and even Ray smiled–until he thought twice about these words. Then he gave his hungry friend a little smile.
“That’s it, Scott.”
20Sanctuary (I)
Step by step they were approaching the small mountain range. Only a little bit further. Duke was already thinking about being at Sanctuary, when suddenly a bloodcurdling scream came from just ahead of the group. Now–of all fucking times, he thought. Even from afar, he could see some undead beasts raising hell. He ran ahead and promptly pulled his two hammers from their leather loops. The rest of the group formed a defensive circle, a move they had practiced for incidents when undead appeared. A young, dark-haired girl stumbled toward Duke and tried to get into the circle, while glancing over her shoulder in panic. Duke grabbed her.
“What did you see, girl?”
“Th-there,” the girl stuttered, “over there–I saw some of those beasts, Mr. Powell. Let me go. You‘re hurting me!” she cried hysterically.
Duke let go of her arm. Then he walked in the direction from where the undead were approaching. Duke then signaled Danny and Pam to follow him.
He counted eight zombies, but noticed right away that they seemed to be in bad shape. A rather bloated female dragged her right thigh behind her and moved even more awkwardly than the rest. A young guy, who could have barely been older than eighteen when still alive, had a football-sized crater in his right shoulder. His arm clumsily dangled around and was completely out of the joint. Seen close up, all of these creatures displayed severe injuries. Duke smiled mirthlessly and gripped his weapons tighter. “Looks like you picked the wrong guy to fight with–then and even more so now, shitheads,” he remarked, before he drove the peen of his right hammer through the first zombie’s brainpan. He used the left hammer to strike from the side and crush the rest of the skull. The body collapsed and stopped moving.
Meanwhile, Danny was using a slightly different method. He had already dispatched several of these beasts with blows and cuts, but this caused too many body parts to fly around. So instead, he struck the zombies repeatedly in the spinal area or tried to hit their eye sockets. These actions had several decisive advantages: If he hit them in the right spot, he cleanly separated the spine from the brain stem, which in this species caused an ins
tant paralysis of the entire musculoskeletal system. Then he finished them off with a precise stab into the ear canal or eye socket. If one of his stabs missed the intended target, his weapon was still long enough to keep the attacker at a distance.
The fat undead was his first victim due to her inability to dodge his attack. After a well-aimed stab at the eyes, she crashed hard on the ground and was finished.
Pam was initially nervous because all of the screaming and had pulled her pistol. She would only use it in extreme circumstances because by now ammunition was hard to come by. During such fights, she usually left the action to Duke and Danny and only provided covering fire when necessary or shot attackers from behind. This passive role in a two-against-eight fight seemed too risky for her in this situation so instead, Pam pulled a blunt instrument and moved to the side to knock down two zombies from behind. After a short but intense fight, all attackers ended up on the ground, their gargling and smacking sounds silenced forever. When Duke, Danny and Pam returned to the others, they saw they had missed only two zombies that had been taken care of by the other survivors. Duke was satisfied. It was good that the rest of the group occasionally had to fend off a manageable attack. This reduced the panic caused by these horrible creatures and taught the people how to kill them.
The group gathered together once again and continued into the plain. The incident had ended pretty well, mostly because the undead were in such bad physical shape. Duke had no idea who or what had mauled them so badly, and this confirmed his impression that they were on the right track.
In front of them they saw the rocks, now more visible and threatening. On the ground they often discovered gnawed-on animal carcasses or severely decomposed corpses. The closer they got to the mountains, though, the fewer corpses they found. It seemed as if somebody had done a thorough house cleaning here. They also found holes as deep as a wheelbarrow in the ground, plus some singed areas. Duke ordered the group to watch their surroundings carefully. He had a strange feeling of nervousness, like when a cop catches you when you fuck up, or your wife when you jerk off–both instances Duke had experienced himself.
It was obvious their group could be visible for miles by someone on the heights, but so far no one revealed themselves and there was no visible movement from that vantage point. When they reached the pass, they saw a sign set in the ground. It read:
- Traveler, you are on the right path -
Duke scratched his head and called Danny and Pam over. “I don’t like this shit, not at all.”
“What alternative do we have? Whatever we’re looking for is behind this pass,” Danny replied.
“It makes no sense to either go over the top of the mountains or going around them. Sanctuary is behind this pass–and we’re on the road to reach Sanctuary,” Pam said. “Maybe we could send out a scout and wait for him to return–maybe all the way to the top so he can get a better look. As long as I don’t have to walk there,” she said with a wink the rest of the group could not see. Duke cleared his throat and was about to answer, when a voice called from above and interrupted his thoughts.
“You can save the rest of the discussion and lay down your arms. We are coming and will accompany you there.” All of them looked up and saw a slender woman with short-cropped black hair. She wore a conspicuous eye patch over her left eye, and the white line of a long scar ran from beneath it.
“Hello—good to see you, ma’am. Can I ask who we’re dealing with?” Duke replied, unconcerned.
“My name is Valeria Martinez–and I don’t want to repeat my request.”
Duke showed a crooked grin and pulled out his shotgun. “And if we refuse?” Pam and Danny seemed rather exasperated at this, but they also raised their weapons. The other members of the group followed their example.
The woman uttered a brief laugh, ducked behind a boulder and reappeared with a submachine gun in her hand. Suddenly men and women with rifles and pistols appeared from behind all kinds of nooks and crannies and aimed squarely at the group.
“I’d think twice about that,” the woman replied. “We have a code of conduct in Sanctuary, but it only applies to people who are peaceful. If you try to attack me, I’ll personally shoot you between the eyes and tell our leader the fat hillbilly outside the town simply overplayed his hand. Comprende, señor?”
Duke grunted some incomprehensible remark, but then he gave in and lowered his weapon. His comrades did the same. Some of the guards came down the slope and began frisking the new arrivals. One of the men stepped toward Duke. He appeared to be about fifty years old, and the stranger was surprisingly well-dressed with a gold fob chain attached to his vest and gray hair closely combed backward. He seemed out of place in this wilderness. When the man started to pat him down, Duke whispered almost inaudibly.
“Just watch what you’re doing, buster, or you’ll lose your arm faster than you can blink.”
The man looked up at him and did not seem intimidated at all. “I can assure you, sonny, that you are not the first one to threaten something like that. But believe me, when people threaten me, it rarely leads to a good outcome for them. It’s a shame in today’s world so few people have any manners.”
21The Vice-President
Harrison Carter was a photogenic man, and it was no wonder he had been the figurehead of his party for a long time. Among Democrats he was considered the most powerful man in the government–even when the President was still alive, although he would have rejected such a claim. While outwardly he presented the image of a model politician who had not been associated with any major scandals during his long career, internally he was known for his rigid leadership style and inflexibility during negotiations. Ray had to think of the impressive speech on the radio he and Chris had heard while driving to Muntly, and which he had later seen on television in the office of the supermarket.
For the moment, if no one knew what had happened in the world, they would believe everything is fine, Ray thought when he saw the man on the monitor screen. Carter sat behind a large oak desk, his hands folded in front of him. His navy-blue jacket sported a white pocket handkerchief, and his short grey hair was combed with a precise side parting. The dark blue tie had been carefully arranged and formed a straight line in the open jacket. The Vice President looked into the camera with a serious expression, while in the background the Stars and Stripes could be seen between two book shelves. In different circumstances the image on his monitor could be from a political campaign ad.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Pelletier said.
“Where are Dixon and Abbadon?” Ray whispered.
“We are not able to establish a video conference for everyone. We are going to contact the USS George Washington afterwards. Are you ready?”
Ray nodded. Then Master Sergeant Pelletier pressed a button, and sound was transmitted.
“Hello, Mr. Vice President. As already announced, Captain Thompson would like to talk to you. I am switching over to him.” With a nod Pelletier signaled to Ray that he should speak.
“Mr. Vice President, my name is Raymond Thompson. I assume you have been sufficiently informed about me and my request. As we don’t have much time, I’d like to get straight to the point: Were you a customer of Vita Invicta?”
Harrison Carter kept a straight face. “This question cannot be adequately answered in so short a time, Mr. Thompson.”
“A simple yes or no would be sufficient.”
“The situation is much too complex for such a short answer.”
“Mr. Vice President, if you expect me to retrieve the family of Dr. Abbadon from Sanctuary, then please limit yourself to a less complex answer.”
Carter sighed. “Yes, I was one of the customers of Vita Invicta–but this does not mean I knew about their failed experiments. Listen, Mr. Thompson, I would love to explain the background to all of this in detail, and we are also working overtime to find a way out of this catastrophe. I will later fill you in completely—but the mission to Sanctuary comes first and has t
op priority. You will receive all the support you want.”
Pelletier pointed at a time in the corner of the screen. “If we still want to establish radio contact with the USS George Washington, you’ll have to end this conversation soon.”
“I will take you by your word, Mr. Vice President. As soon as I‘m back, we will talk about your role in this disaster and how your attempts to find a solution are progressing. I hope you will be able to present something credible on both topics.”
“The United States government thanks you for your efforts, Mr. Thompson. Good luck in Sanctuary.” With these words, the connection to the Vice President went black. Master Sergeant Pelletier pressed several buttons and then established a link with the aircraft carrier. It took a few seconds before General Dixon appeared on the monitor.
“Hello General,” Ray said. “Where is our friend Dr. Abbadon?”
“Dr. Abbadon sends his regrets. Are you going to fly to Sanctuary now?”
Ray was annoyed. He had wanted to ask Abbadon questions about this Dr. Schaefer in order to test his theory about the attack on Fort Weeks. “Tell him he better be here next time, if he wants to see his family.”
“Can I interpret this as a yes?” Dixon asked.
“We are taking off tomorrow, but I need some more information. Where exactly did you send the first two rescue troops?”
“What do you mean? Directly to the coordinates where we assume Sanctuary to be located.”
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