by J. Thorn
As for Melissa, I don’t really have any clue what the deal is with her. I woke up that morning and she was gone. I’ve seen her in passing, but other than that, we’ve not spoken. I did try to go to her place and see how she was, but I got no answer when I knocked. Maybe I’m being a bit girlish about the whole thing. I mean, what if she just needed to “knock one out” so-to-say, and I happened to be the closest guy around?
***
It’s been enough that we have to deal with countless numbers of undead intent on eating us. Yet, because of the nature of mankind, we must also deal with those amongst the living who have decided to take full advantage of this chaos for their own selfish gains.
Two days ago while I was on duty in the communications center, the radio suddenly erupted with screams, gunfire, and one decipherable fragment of a sentence before going dead:
“…—uch firepower to hold off…of our men…dead or wounded…repeat…help…—ver!”
The terrified voice belonged to Billy Haynes. I recognized it right away, but just as abruptly as it began, the message ended. No response has come in the repeated attempts to raise a reply via radio.
The other two groups we had out were contacted. Both were sent to check the area Ian, Joseph, and Billy’s team were known to have been searching. It wasn’t hard to find. Burning vehicles and buildings acted as a locator beacon.
The report we received sent a shockwave through our entire community. There was no sign of any of our men…living. One man, a soldier named Jack Simpson, was chained to the bumper of a still-smoldering military-transport truck. He’d been bitten and turned. The bite was a singular one, and it was on the left hand. He still had his mail-and-leather gauntlet on the right. And then there is the whole chained-to-the-truck thing.
More frightening is that none of our men besides Simpson were found. I’m fairly well acquainted with every man on that patrol. None of our people have acted with violence towards anybody they’ve encountered out there. Whenever another living soul—or souls—was met, they were given the option of coming to our base. There has never been an instance of coercion. And it has always been made clear what the policy is involving somebody injured by one of the undead.
What has happened is an act of aggression. Pure and simple. This changes the game plan. After an emergency gathering of the community, we have reluctantly decided upon two resolutions. The first is that we can’t put any more of our population at risk by going out to actively search for the other five missing men. It is a sad, but realistic position. The second, and this one actually passed much handier than I’d expected, is that anyone encountered will be treated as hostile and be made to prove otherwise.
Paul has restructured our patrols. Instead of three six-person groups he will be sending one twenty-person unit that will treat each foray as if they are driving into enemy territory. I’d always assumed that the folks venturing out held that belief to begin with. I’ve learned after talking to Aaron that the standing orders have been to extend an offer to any survivor.
Tonight, Aaron, Barry, and Dave will meet me and Teresa at my place. Unfortunately, Jamie will be on watch. I’m fairly certain I saw the look on each one of their faces when Paul announced that there would not be an active, organized attempt to find our people. Three of the five remaining men missing belong to our group. I’m not convinced any of us can accept that decision.
***
“I won’t just sit and allow the possibility that Billy, Joseph…or even Ian may be alive and we do nothing.” Aaron paced back and forth in my living room. “I’ve known them both since I was six. We played pee-wee football that first year. All four of us have been teammates, scouts, everything together.”
“I can’t say I blame Paul for this,” Barry leaned forward, clasping his hands, “but this sounds like a decision made by Randall.”
“Yeah!” Dave blurted out, surprising everybody in the room. “Them Army types got that ‘no-man-left-behind’ motto or some such thing. Don’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter who made the choice. Our guys are out there. Dead. Undead. Alive. If we do nothing, we have to live with it. If you can do that…fine, but we are loaded out for that emergency evacuation. Rules have always been that nobody has to stay against their will. I’m for leaving first thing. If we find the people responsible, but don’t have the numbers to take ‘em, then we’ll cross that bridge when it is in front of us,” Teresa looked everybody in the eye one by one as she spoke. “Steve, Aaron, Jamie , and I will be at the trucks at sunrise. If you stay, fine. But those are our friends. This ‘needs of the many outweighs the needs of the few’ crap is a sissified cop-out.”
“Randi and I will be there.” Barry reached over and patted Teresa’s knee.
“I’m in,” Dave said.
“Then it’s settled,” I looked around the room, “we leave tomorrow morning.”
“I take it you will be bringing Thalia,” Barry stated more than asked.
“She’s one of us,” I said, half-expecting a challenge. “Besides, this place is an illusion of safety. After that situation with the airbase, I don’t imagine anywhere actually being safe.”
Ten minutes after everybody said their goodbyes and left, there was a knock at my door. It was Melissa. Her arms were folded across her chest tight, and the look in her eyes told me I’d done something wrong.
Oh God, don’t let her be pregnant, I thought.
“So you’re all gonna just leave?” She pushed past me into the living room.
“Umm…” I didn’t really have a good answer, and saying I just forgot would probably not go over well.
“I may’ve been a mess when you found me, but I am fine. Not crazy. And while I may not be G.I. Jane like Teresa, I can do my part. I didn’t really get much of a chance before. What, with the whole being in shock thing.”
“Melissa….” Nope. I still didn’t have anything to say, so I stood there with my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“And if you’re wondering about the whole sex thing…well I can’t give you a good answer on that. I woke up and had no idea what I’d say to you…or Thalia. I mean you two are like a family. And believe it or not, I don’t make it a habit of just jumping into somebody’s bed on a whim. Counting you, I’ve had sex with three people. The last of which I saw being eaten alive before my very eyes and…” she paused and I thought the tears would start again. They didn’t. “I just needed to process things.”
“Then I’m guessing you want to come with us?” I finally had something to say.
“Absolutely, those are my people, too.”
It was settled. We said our goodnights and she left. I was already packed and ready to go, so all that remained was to enjoy one final night of relative peace and quiet. I checked in on Thalia who was fast asleep with her giant teddybear.
Settling in on the couch, I picked up the book I’d been trying to read for the past two weeks: The Mayor of Caster-bridge by Thomas Hardy. I had thirty pages left and figured this would be the last chance at such a casual event in a long while.
As I cracked open the dog-eared paperback, another knock came at my door. With a sigh I gave the book a look of resignation and set it back on the coffee table. I had no idea who to expect. Pretty much everybody I knew had been here and left. I certainly didn’t expect—
“Doctor Zahn, what a…” Surprise? Inconvenience?
“I’m coming with you.” .
Nope. I’m never gonna finish that book.
6
Tough Choices
“Are you going to invite me in, or simply stand there with your mouth hanging open?” Doctor Zahn asked.
“Well…umm…” I couldn’t think of what to say. I stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.
“Wimmer told me you are equipped to pull out of here on a moment’s notice.”
“So what leads you to believe I’m leaving now?” I asked, trying not to sound offensive.
“I was watching you
and your little clique when the vote passed barring any attempt at a search-and-rescue mission,” she said simply. “None of you should ever sit down at a poker table.”
“So why would you leave with us?” My curiosity was more than piqued.
“Sergeant Wimmer is actually going to send out a few groups.” Doctor Zahn sat at my kitchen table and folded her hands in front of her, indicating that she might be staying for a while. “He has asked certain individuals that he deems crucial to join some of those groups. We will have a radio and instructions to make contact if a suitable relocation site is discovered.”
I had to give it to Paul Wimmer. He was nothing if not thorough. Instead of sending teams on a mission and depleting his finite supply of trained soldiers, he would let civilians do his dirty work. Only—
“Why would he risk sending crucial people out with a bunch of us untrained yahoos?” I asked.
“And what would compel you to make contact with him if you found someplace safe?” Doctor Zahn countered.
Good point, I thought.
“Also, you’ve all shown the ability to survive this nightmare without help. He believes your survival is due to your not being bound to a command structure that would have you waiting to be told to act. Your independence and free thinking is an asset.”
“But this seems a bit obvious.” I sat at the table across from Doctor Zahn. “Why tip your hand? I mean, some folks might be a bit paranoid. They may shy away from bringing a government tag-a-long.”
“He’s not simply letting everybody make a run for it, Steve,” Doctor Zahn laughed. “He isn’t stupid. Some groups are being encouraged to go in order to thin out the population in the event that one of those migrating herds comes and traps us here. That lessens the draw on supplies. Others, people he’s come to trust somewhat, are being asked to accommodate a rider,” Doctor Zahn paused, then smiled. “What was your word? Oh yes, tag-a-long.”
“So how did I get so lucky to draw the most senior medical person?” I figured tonight was not going to be that chance to rest up. It was also probably going to be the last time I’d be living in such relative luxury for a while. I got back up and walked to my little kitchen.
“The sergeant is a fairly good judge of character. He feels that your group is the most likely to survive,” Doctor Zahn said matter-of-factly.
There was something else in Doctor Zahn’s voice, and I decided to press the issue, “And?” I walked back to the table and plunked down a cold beer—the matching twin to the one in my hand which represented the last of my supply—in front of the doctor. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw real emotion on her face. The stoic Doctor Zahn was blushing!
“Dave Ellis!” I blurted out.
“You will say nothing,” the cold, self-assured voice I was used to held a bit of a tremor.
“I got news for ya, doc…in a small group, travelling like we will be, secrets are all but impossible.” I took a long drink. Mostly because I was trying to digest this tidbit of information.
“Yes, well,” Doctor Zahn was blushing even brighter than before, “David isn’t the most perceptive person.”
“You made a pass and he missed it.” I tried not to laugh and succeeded, mostly.
“Be amused if you want,” there was that coldness I was used to, “but it was all I could do to reveal this to you.”
“Your secret’s safe,” I assured and sat back down. “Seal it with a drink.” I held up my bottle of beer. To her credit, Doctor Zahn picked hers up, we clinked bottles, and each took a long drink.
We finished our beer in silence, then Doctor Zahn left. I told her to gather any essentials and be ready in five hours. Five hours? Damn. At least I was packed.
Stretching out on the couch, I double-checked to ensure my alarm was set. Picking up my book, I hoped that I didn’t doze off before finishing those last thirty—
Another knock at the door!
“Really?” I said out loud to nobody. Well, whomever it was, they weren’t coming in. I’d do what it took to brush them off. Finishing The Mayor of Casterbridge was now a personal issue.
“What!” I yanked open the door and barked, hoping to be as off-putting as possible so as to encourage this latest intruder to go away.
“Steven,” the calm voice deflated my annoyance. As my irritation began to turn quickly to…was it fear?
“Mister Smith,” I glanced at the two armed soldiers standing behind Randall Smith. “Don’t imagine this is just a social call?”
Randall Smith doesn’t smile much. That is why, when he glanced over his shoulder at the two armed men, then back at me and smiled…I got more than a little nervous. “Privates Gregg and Hilton were simply kind enough to accompany me because I was negligent and out after dark without my weapon.”
It was actually a standing order that children under age fifteen remain indoors unless accompanied by an armed escort. Adults were expected to carry a weapon at all times when out at night. There was a “No Exceptions” clause on those orders. It was in place to minimize the risk of somebody being caught unaware by a zombie that managed to slip past the intricate security. I guess that is military thinking: Plan for every poss-ibility.
“I believe Mister Hobart can escort me back, gentlemen.” Randall Smith raised an eyebrow at me expectantly.
“Uh…sure,” I said.
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, then I jumped as if I’d been hit with a mild electric shock. Stepping back, I gestured to the impeccably dressed man standing in my doorway. “Please, come in.”
He did, and just that suddenly, the soldiers turned about-face and departed. Smith glanced around the living quarters, his eyes seeming to take in every detail. He went to my couch, considered the pillow, blanket, and alarm clock, then seated himself in the adjacent chair.
I’d shut the door, but hadn’t moved. I had no idea where this was about to go. I was trying to find reasons for the neatly arranged row of carry bags sitting along the wall that separated the bedroom and the livingroom.
“A little light reading?” Mister Smith broke the silence.
“What?” I was more jumpy at this very moment than I think I’d ever been when we were on the road.
He waved the bookmarked paperback at me. “I think this is a bit on the heavy side, isn’t it?”
“It’s entertaining,” I said, and decided to stop acting like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I walked over, shoved my blanket aside, and sat down.
“Very seldom can you find somebody so unredeemable,” he waved the book.
“Oh, they’re out there.” I wasn’t sure where this was headed.
Once again we sat in silence. I was getting over my uneasiness and making my way to annoyed. If he was here to bust me for leaving, fine. If not, then I wished he’d get to the point.
“When does your group leave?”
Okay, no more small talk. I considered playing ignorant, but that row of packed bags sorta ruled that out. Still, if he was asking…
“Why do you want to know?”
Mister Smith flipped through the pages of my book, then set it on the coffee table. He folded his hands on his knee, leaned forward, and looked me square in the eyes. “Do you have children?”
Not what I expected. “Not of my own, but Thalia is mine as far as anybody’s concerned.”
“Then you may not entirely understand what it means to be a parent.” I started to interrupt, but he raised his hands. “You have some notion, but still, you’ve not raised a child that you fathered.”
“Your point?” I’d officially reached annoyed and was now considering tossing Mister Smith out my front door.
“I have a daughter…” his mouth hung open as if he’d forgotten what to say. There was another long moment of silence. This was becoming tedious.
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” he eventually continued, “there are other outposts like this one. Some on military installations, others in strategic, or perceived str
ategic locales. Until yesterday, we were in touch directly with five, and indirectly with seventeen more.”
“Why?” I was suddenly wishing I hadn’t given the doctor my last beer. “What happened yesterday.”
“The numbers changed to three and nine respectively,” Mister Smith sighed. Suddenly he looked so very tired.
“Herds?” I asked.
“In every case but two.”
“What happened to those?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“Raiders.” Mister Smith let that word hang for a few seconds. “The undead aren’t our only problem. And, it would seem that certain factions of those who remain alive not only want nothing to do with order, they are thriving quite nicely in the chaos.”
“This is all well and good, Mister Smith.” I didn’t want to waste any more of my night with casual banter. It was obvious he’d come to my place with a purpose. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with me, so why not just put it on the table.”
“I have a nine-year-old daughter…here.”
I didn’t see that coming.
“She was in my car with me the day I got the phone call. Due to the urgency, I had no choice but to bring her with me.” All of a sudden, the unwaverable Mister Randall Smith was speaking quickly and with emotion. “I had to use a bit of bluster at times, and make threats that I hoped nobody would call me on. Somehow, I managed to bring Emily along with me all the way here. I thought this would be the safest place for her.”
I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea that his daughter was among the children living here. Also, I had no idea why he was telling me all of this. After giving me a moment to digest all of it, he continued.
“I have a duty. Even though I doubt we will prevail and turn this around…the whole zombie situation…I have to exhaust every effort,” he said in that curt voice I was accustomed. “We have two herds in the vicinity. One seems to be coming at us. Estimated size is over five thousand.”