"I know, but don't let on. People might start expecting council members to be able to do things. I sure as hell don't want to go back to training."
"You sure, I do it. Part of the job. All officers have to keep their field skills up. You never know when something like this might happen."
It took two days to get ready for the mission. They gathered supplies, got restocked with ammunition, got their armour cleaned and repaired, then they started along the road.
They were exhausted from the days of fighting zombies. Bennet decided to move anyway because waiting meant giving the people at Meat Cove more time to prepare, a higher chance of sending another like the ones they had killed. It was amazing, primitive hillbillies had given his forces a serious challenge, despite their tiny numbers. It was a matter of using every weapon at hand, using zombies against humans. Bennett had some serious moral qualms about that, but as he marched through the early autumn sunlight he thought about how much more willing he might be to do that with a group like this.
The days were still mostly warm, but storms were picking up. They'd already had a couple. This day, the one they left on, was beautiful. Warm air with gentle breezes carrying the autumn scents of harvest. There were apples and blackberries everywhere. Many of the trees had gone wild, the apples changing to small, hearty varieties, better at producing seeds than at producing a large amount of fruit. Yellowed grass grew long, through cracked roads and along the side of them. It was peaceful, tranquil even. A tranquility that was broken by hundreds of black clad soldiers in full combat kit.
The lightweight chain mail they wore was ideal for zombies. It wasn't heavy, at least not compared to the armour of old, and it wasn't too hot. It was however much hotter than not wearing armour at all. The troops had to keep their pace slow, walking down roads that hadn't seen repairs in at least twenty years, twenty years of ice, snow, slush, melting, freezing. It was rough going. Not for the first time Bennett wished for the old days of smooth roads, vehicles that could make this drive in a couple of hours, not a week or more.
Night fell, and they made camp, setting a simple, flexible barricade. It wasn't going to work against the thousands of zombies they had faced in Sydney, but it was enough for this, a combat mission with every person both armed and armored. There were a couple of zombies in the night, quickly dispatched at the barricade.
Days blurred until Bennett found himself looking at high cliffs over booming surf, a small village visible in the distance, ramshackle and damaged. They had arrived.
But I Get Up Again
Clyde was pushing his dozen men hard. He almost ran, keeping his speed low only because he needed to be able to search the area surrounding the road. The Damned, the Godless. They needed to be broken, to be made to pay and surrender. His people needed to see that the wages of sin weren't just death, but suffering, pain, damnation. He needed to break them. Needed to.
There were traces. A hunting lodge with recently dispatched zombies, broken stalks of grass that showed footprints. He didn't think they had much going for them. The weather had stayed nice, but it was cold at night. No way the godless were staying indoors, he'd know. Every night he marched as late into the evening as he could. He was confident God would protect his people from the blessed. It had worked so far. Two had wandered into camp, only two. He had dispatched both of them. After all, the blessed needed to be contained, they were empty vessels, souls that had been taken to heaven already, or else damned to hell. His people, the truly righteous, they were being tested, shown the path so they could inherit earth reborn as paradise. It was clear, obvious even. He didn't understand why everyone didn't just see it. God was testing man, and only through faith could they survive.
It was like he was Jobe and the Godless were his trials. He would follow them to the end of the earth, and he would destroy them. He owed God, he owed his people.
He started to see more signs of them, fresher signs.
Clouds move in, dark, terrible, storm clouds. Twice the Unbelievers had used a storm to escape him. Twice. Now it was time to reverse that, to use the storm to catch up. He would march through the storm, march into hell if he needed to. He would, nothing could be allowed to stand against him.
As the wind began to pick and the sunlight got lost under darkness one of the men yelled, "We need to get to shelter."
"No. The Godless have used Gods storm to their advantage because we didn't have the courage of our convictions. Now it's our turn, now we use the storm to corner them. We will run them to the ground and we will destroy them."
Clyde started moving forward, his coat flapping in the wind like a pair of wings. The image of it appealed to him - like he was an avenging angel. He needed a flaming sword to brandish, to show them the truth of what he was. He grabbed a branch from a nearby tree and held it aloft, somehow it didn't seem as childish in his giant hands as he had feared it would.
He walked forward, bent against the wind. Branches flew, trees fell, still, he walked on. Nothing touched him. It was true, another sign, he was Gods messenger. Now, he needed to find where the unbelievers were hiding. Lightning crashed, highlighting a derelict shack, tar paper shingles mostly missing. It was odd. The shack, the door was closed. That door should have been flapping in the wind, open to the night. He knew, just knew, that they were inside.
"There."
They walked forward, a dozen of them. Twelve men and one woman. It was like they were the people at the last supper, they were the new apostles. He reached the door and tore it off its hinges. Inside, exactly as he had predicted, the Unbelievers were huddled. Evie was with them, the little whore. Well, if her maidenhead was still intact she could maybe marry Junie, but he didn't buy it for an instant. Girl that age probably spread her legs first chance she got.
The Chinaman was yelling, his words carried away by the wind. He rushed Clyde, a hatchet held high. The redskin was closing in as well. You'd think they'd know better by now. He casually backhanded the Chinaman, smashing him into the far wall. The redskin fell to a kick to the stomach. That left the women. Evie was huddling behind the blonde-haired harlot because of course, she would be. Maybe she hadn't spread her legs for the men. Maybe she'd discovered the unnatural ways. That was one of the greatest things about the apocalypse. Those with unnatural passions had died, no more of this bull about men marrying men and women marrying women. It was back to what it should always have been. Women submitted meekly to their husbands, their husbands took them in hand, caring for them, and exhibiting mastery over them.
Clyde walked forward, his men behind him. He grabbed the girl’s blonde hair, pulling her up by it. "Did you think you could escape God's judgement whore? It was always going to come to this. If you had submitted when you were given a chance you could have been one of us, but no, the devil is too strong in you."
The girl said, "Yes, I see, I should have submitted. I should have let you put your filthy diseased cock in my mouth and bit it off!" and then she spat in his face.
He lifted her off the ground, ready to throw her when he felt a pinch. Evie was crouched between his legs. In one hand she held a knife, the silver blade stained red. His thigh was covered in blood, spurting, pouring onto the ground. He mustered one last moment of strength and threw the whore, punching down at Evie. His heavy fist caught her head, then he collapsed to one knee. His men rushed in, protecting him, surrounding him. He went dark
You're Never Gonna Keep Me Down
Chad stood, legs shaking. His head rang, everything was distant, through a layer of cotton. Once his vision unblurred enough for him to see he could tell that Tyson, Tamra, and Evie were all down, but the villagers seemed to be completely focused on Clyde, applying a tourniquet to his leg. Chad grabbed his hatchet from the ground and grabbed Tyson. Time to get the hell out while they still could.
Tyson came to his feet suddenly, springing up. His eyes were wide, wild. He still had his walking stick in his hand. Chad grabbed him, put his hand over his mouth. The villagers were so occ
upied with Clyde they didn't even seem to notice. Tamra was slowly coming too, pressed against the wall. The only one who was in the middle of the villagers was Evie, her nose dripping blood. She spotted them and started sneaking, moving slowly. She was almost out when one of the men noticed her, reached down to grab her. Tyson jumped, swinging his stick. It caught the villager in the temple, dropping him like a stone. There was a dull, sickening thud, a wet sound. The man was down, showing no signs of getting up. Tyson grabbed Evie and ran for the door, a mad sprint. Chad and Tamra were a pace behind. The four of them fled into the storm, the wind hitting them like a wall, they were drenched instantly.
They ran, ignoring the storm. If Clyde survived his wounds he might just decide to kill them all, and if he didn't his men probably would. It was time to make some distance, despite the weather. Tyson put Evie down so she could run on her own and they fled, Chad in the lead.
Chad ran as far as he could, as fast as he could. He ran without thinking about where he was going, he ran without stopping. He felt strong hands grab his arm, he spun, facing his attacker. It was a long dead man, grey hair cut short, his face was nothing but a bloody mess. There were a few more behind him, not a large group. The kind of group that normally wouldn't have given him pause. As it was, weakened as he was, as his group was, this was far from a small threat. Chad dropped his weight down, pulling his arm free. The zombie followed him down, getting another grip almost right away. The thing had rotten teeth, jagged and black, full of blood. Its foul breath wafted over his face as he went all the way to the ground, the zombie on top of him.
It was easy, when you were fresh, when you had your strength, to dismiss the risks zombies posed. They were slow, weak, uncoordinated. A zombie wasn't a match for a trained human operating at peak condition. Chad was exhausted, so weak he could barely lift his arms. The zombie wasn't just a match for him, it was stronger. He'd forgotten that for a moment, forgotten that they could be a threat. He pushed as hard as he could, trying to lift the creature off him, but it bore down, teeth gnashing, inches from his face. Ichor dripped from its open mouth, landing on his cheek, a dark, thick substance. It was so close he could make out the decay on its cheek, the flap of skin that wasn't attached anymore, giving a clear view of the smooth cheek bone below. The things eyes were milk, tainted slightly blue. Chad knew he had one chance, if he couldn't get free with this burst of strength there wasn't another one left in his body. He jerked his head to one side and pulled the creature down, smashing its forehead onto the ground below. As he did this he shifted his hips, pushing his weight sideways and up. He managed to get free, his arm following his body faster than the zombie could move. He was standing, and it was still on the ground.
His hatchet was missing, he scanned the ground quickly, spotting a rock. He grabbed it and brought it down on the zombies' skull. There was a sharp cracking noise and the creature went still, lying at his feet.
He looked around to see how the rest were doing. Tamra was backed against a tree, two zombies approaching from the front. It was a wide tree, covering her from the back. Tyson was wrestling with his own zombie, he seemed to be winning. He was a large man, and physically powerful, maybe even with his injuries he was able to handle one of them. Evie was up in a tree, yelling at the zombies, nonsense words. She had four around her, they were staring up, snarling and grabbing, but she was at least a foot beyond the reach of the tallest one.
Chad didn't see the hatchet, the storm was still raging, it was hard to see anything. Instead, he grabbed a log and walked over to where Tamra was. He swung the log down on the head of one of the zombies, a small woman dressed in the tattered remnants of a bikini. Her head became flat and her lifeless body dropped to the ground. In the same instant, Tamra struck with her knife, jabbing it into the remaining creatures eye. It dropped like a stone.
Okay, so far so good. Three down. Tyson was finishing off his, bashing it with his walking stick until its head was a fine pulp. There was very, very little left once the rain hit is, washing grey matter and ichor into the ground.
Four left, time to get to work. The three of them closed, it was so much, so much more than Chad had anticipated. Lifting his log took all of his strength. The first time he brought it down on one of the zombies he missed, catching it with a glancing blow to the arm. The zombie turned to him and Chad started to lift the log again, pulling it above his waist. The creature shuffled forward, grabbing for him. Chad noticed that it was missing an arm just below the shoulder. He put the log in front of him, pointing it into the zombie, and he pushed, using his weight to drive the zombie back.
The log was thick, six inches in diameter. He pushed forward until the zombie was pressed into the tree and kept pushing, trying to make sure the zombie couldn't reach him while he caught his breath. He kept his weight forward. There was a wet cracking sound, rotted ribs breaking under the pressure, and then his log was pressing into wood, not zombie. The creature started to pull itself along the shaft of the log, a single grasping hand, claw like, almost skeletal, dragging it forward. It had seemed like a good plan.
Chad let it get closer, then he let go of the log and pushed it aside, spinning the zombie so it was no longer facing him. He grabbed the back end of the log and pushed it up, putting his body underneath it, forcing the zombie to lean forward. Then he pushed, dropping the zombie face down on the ground. He kept hold of the stick and walk around, keeping his legs clear of teeth that were still gnashing for him.
He couldn't figure out how to destroy the things head without letting go, so he pushed the log down into sodden ground, staking the zombie down. It tried to push up, leveraging itself up with its single weak arm but it was in a position where there was very little it could do. Chad left it after making sure it was properly stuck and moved on to the next zombie. The remaining three were giving Tamra and Tyson a hard time. They were having trouble getting in a good angle. Chad picked up a rock and smashed one in the skull. Apparently, the rock wasn't heavy enough and his arms didn't have the strength left to do more than a glancing blow. The zombie turned to him, reaching out. Matted hair hung down over its face, one malevolent eye peeking through the sodden locks. He backed up, turned, and led the zombie away. He needed to find an advantage, despite barely being able to see. Periodically lightning would flash, sending the landscape into sharp relief, stark shadows, and bright light.
The pursuing zombie was slow, but not much slower than Chad was. He was barely able to keep ahead of it, hobbling on feet that were near their breaking point. There was no adrenaline rush, he'd exhausted all his adrenaline reserves. He wasn't even afraid, he'd burned out his ability to feel fear, at least the immediate kind of fear. It was down to sheer will to survive, nothing else left.
He saw something that might work for him. A small cliff, not very high, a few rocks in a hill. He went to the edge, standing almost off it. The zombie closed, reaching. Chad dropped and rolled just as it reached him. Not the well-executed roll he'd learned in training, more like a log, rolling on his side down the rocky face. He caught the zombie’s feet as it reached down, knocking it over. It fell, ungracefully, most of its body going over the edge, and then it went over completely. Chad looked down, seeing it smashed on rocks below. It was still reaching for him, but both legs and one arm were broken, unable to move. That counted, as good as a kill, it couldn't reach him any longer.
He stumbled back through the storm, moving towards his friends. By the time he arrived the last two zombies were down.
"We need to get out of the storm," He yelled.
"What?"
"We need to... fuck it. FOLLOW ME!"
Chad made his way back to where he saw the cliff. There was a semi-sheltered nook close by. Not a real shelter, but the best they were going to get. As he walked he stubbed his toe on something sharp. It was his hatchet, now covered in some of his blood. He picked it up and kept limping.
The shelter was a spot next to a large rock that sort of overhung a tiny bit. They were still g
etting pelted with rain, but a small amount of the wind was cut.
Chad took his hatchet and lopped a few limbs off a pine tree. The soft wood cut easily, but it was still almost more than he could manage. He took the pine boughs and laid them at an angle across them. The rain still dripped through, but slightly less. The four of them curled into a ball and tried to sleep.
Morning came far sooner than they would have liked. The storm was still blowing but it seemed to have lost its teeth. It was a grey, cold day.
They started walking again. They kept walking until Evie dropped. Chad had never seen anything like it. The girl was walking along just like the rest of them, then her legs went out from under her and she collapsed in a heap. It was impossible to tell how late in the day it was, the sky was a uniform grey, the location of the sun impossible to estimate. They rushed to Evie. Her pulse was steady but weak. Chad took hold of her hands and discovered that they were freezing. All of her felt cold. Her lips were slightly blue. "She has hypothermia. We need to warm her up."
Somehow the girl, the stranger, had become as much a part of them as they were. Chad picked her up, his legs going wobbly with the extra weight. She was tiny, almost birdlike. Didn't matter. He was weak, so very weak. He staggered along, carrying her as far as he could. Finally, his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. Tyson took over and Tamra helped him back up to his feet.
"We need to get inside, I know we don't want to risk it because of Clyde, but we won't live much longer if we don't. We need to get out of the wet, out of the wind," Tamra said.
"Okay, yeah... maybe Evie killed him."
"I wouldn't count on it, but we can always hope."
They were on an empty stretch of road, nothing but forest around them. There were no houses anywhere in sight. High cliffs on one side, thick woods on the other. As they staggered along Chad felt his body start to shake out of his control. That was okay, meant he was still generating warmth. If it stopped he was pretty sure that meant he was dead. The cold left his hands numb, unable to close properly. His feet were in similar shape. He knew they were cut in dozens of places, he could see the blood on the ground as he stepped, but the feeling was distant, muted. He walked on, slipping into a daze. Everything was the same. It was some time after Tamra started tugging on him that he registered it. "Huh?"
Resource Economies Page 19