"Then what?" said Buck.
"Then new hosts would be found. Only this time they'd be right there for the king. He'd have them, and he'd be able to do whatever he wanted with them. Remember the top floor of the Wells Fargo building? That weird wall made out of bodies?"
Aaron shuddered. Actually shuddered. "That's going to have a starring role in my nightmares for a long time."
"And remember how the zombies let us in, but wouldn't let us out?"
"Yeah." Aaron looked like he was starting to understand, but he waited for Christopher to say it.
"So maybe they were waiting for us to come in... so they'd have extra options. Extra... hosts. In case something happened to the first ones. The zombies planned for this possibility. I bet right now there are others, already wrapped up in that silk, waiting for the queens to be downloaded into them in case one of their... current hosts is destroyed." He snapped, looked fully at Aaron. "Remember your theory that all the zombie stories we've made up in the past were really misinformation, ideas implanted so that we'd be afraid of them, wouldn't be able to handle this?"
"Yup."
"And in all those stories the one way to not just kill but completely assure yourself the creatures have been destroyed is to incinerate them." He pointed at the girls. "So we remember that. We destroy the bodies completely. We destroy the hosts. And the queens..."
"... zap back to their new hosts, and we're screwed," finished Buck.
Christopher nodded. "And my guess is that would be the end of us. All of us."
"Then how can we stop this?" Maggie lay a hand on Lizzy's still form. The little girl was drooling, looking startlingly normal in her diaper. No evidence at what she held within her, at what she was becoming.
"What was it you were going to tell us before, e hine?" said Mo. "How can we stop all this from happening?"
Theresa looked shaken by everything that Christopher had said. But she drew herself visibly together and said, "That doodad stops some cell waves, right?"
Christopher nodded. "It's not very strong, though. We're going to have to keep the girls close for it to work on them."
"What if we completely stop all waves?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if we went somewhere that no waves, none of any kind, could penetrate?"
"I don't know. It would trap the queens, I guess." Christopher's brow furrowed. "Cut off the king. Make it impossible for him to breed."
Maggie made a choking noise. Kept her face buried in Buck's chest. He stroked her hair.
"And what happens when a queen can't breed?"
Christopher grinned. "The queen and king both die. And so does the rest of the hive." Then his smile died. "But there's no place like that. Even in here, in a survivalist bunker with lead walls, the girls called the zombies. How can you beat that?"
Theresa chuckled. "Oh, believe me, I can definitely beat that."
36
"YOU KNOW WHERE MICRON is?"
Christopher guffawed. "You know who I am, right?"
"A man-child with impulse control problems?" said Theresa.
Surprisingly, Buck was the one who came to his rescue. "He used to be the Governor's son." He shook his head, rocking Maggie a bit as he did. "And everyone in the Treasure Valley knows where Micron is, so your question was stupid on its face."
Theresa looked like she was visibly restraining herself from committing battery.
Micron was one of the reasons that Idaho wasn't the hick state a lot of people thought it was, but was in fact a focus of high-technology in the United States. The company headquarters was in Boise, but it had a production/R&D plant in Meridian, just to the west of the capital city. The company, a multinational behemoth worth over thirty billion dollars – at least, before the Change – had primarily specialized in semiconductors used for computer memory, and had employed some of the best and brightest in the state.
Coincidentally, they were very high on (ex-) Governor Elgin's ass-kissing list.
Christopher had been to the Meridian site a few times – photo ops between his Governorosity and the company bigwigs when they rolled out some new gizmo that was the size of a fingernail and apparently would change the universe. But he didn't really know much about the place. Other than that it had pretty good food at the cafeteria, and some of the female employees had been surprisingly hot.
Of course, that was all before the Change. Now it was just a bunch of buildings, and the hot women were probably running around gnawing on things.
"I had an ex who worked there," said Theresa.
"Okay," said Buck. "But I still don't understand what that has to do with anything."
"They have an RF anechoic chamber, don't they," said Aaron.
Theresa looked surprised. Not just that someone had said the words, but that the cowboy had been the one to do so. It was easy to forget, with his rough appearance and Aw, shucks drawl, but Aaron was deadly smart.
Theresa nodded.
"What's that?" asked Buck. Irritation coloring his voice. "What's an anticolic chamber?"
"Anechoic," said Theresa. "An RF anechoic chamber is a room that basically completely cuts off all incoming and outgoing waves – radio, electromagnetic, radioactive, everything."
"What would one need such a thing for?" said Mo. "It sounds very expensive."
Theresa shrugged. "I don't understand the science of it. Something to do with measuring signal interference in circuits. I didn't get more info than that – my ex shouldn't have told me about it at all, considering how hush-hush Micron is with their R&D, and he got all freaked out when he blabbed in the first place."
"So we get there, and... what?" said Buck.
"Well, we hope that the things in the girls get locked into a kind of... I dunno... suspended hibernation? And that locks down on the zombies and what they're trying to do. At least that buys us some time to figure out the next move."
Everyone was silent for a time. Then Christopher spoke. "I like it." He smiled at Theresa. "After the Apocalypse ends, remind me to buy you a drink."
"You just want to get into my pants."
He shrugged. "I'm going to plead the fifth on that one."
Buck was frowning. "Much as I love witnessing overblown hormones at work, there's something we kinda glossed over."
Aaron nodded. "I figure we're somewhere in Oregon." He turned to Mo. "Right?"
Mo nodded. "I have my home in Nyssa, but when the men who work for me started acting strangely, Amulek and I made our way here. We are now just south of Crow City."
"Strange?" Buck snorted. "Helluva way to describe it. And where in God's name is Crow City?"
"It's about thirty miles into Oregon," said Aaron. "Not exactly a bustling metropolis."
"How far to Micron?" asked Christopher.
"About three or four hours, normally," said Aaron. "Now?" He shook his head. "I don't know." He looked at the unconscious children. The wounded hunter. Flexed his own bandaged shoulder. "I just don't know."
37
"SO HOW DO WE GET THERE?" asked Buck.
"Well, there are two ways," said Aaron. "We can take the 95 freeway to the 84, or we can take Highway 20-26. The first one's a bit quicker, but –"
"But what?" said Theresa. "I say quicker. We get going now, maybe we can get there by sundown."
Aaron shook his head. Mo did, too. "Me huritau anō, kaua e kōwhiria i runga i te whāwhai, i te pōnānā. Let us not act in haste, e hine. Sometimes it is the slow man who catches the shark."
Theresa gawked at him. "Do you really talk like that?"
"He does. Kinda awesome, huh?" said Christopher. He turned to Aaron. "What's the problem with the fast way, cowboy?"
"Well, what do you think happens to a freeway when half the people on it turn into zombies all at once?"
Christopher thought about it. The image wasn't a pretty one.
"There is little traffic in this part of the land. The highway should be clear of obstacles, for a time." The Māori looked at
his hands. "At the least, it should be clear of cars."
Christopher tried not to think about what he meant by the caveat.
"How far is this little town, whatsit, Crow City?" asked Buck.
"Ten miles north," said Mo.
"How the hell are we supposed to get there?" Buck exploded to his feet. "We've got two little kids in comas who have to stay like – what?" He gestured at the makeshift cell jammer.
"I'd say the range is less than ten feet. Maybe five," said Christopher.
"So we've got to keep them five feet away from that doohickey, we're all exhausted, most of us are wounded, and we'll, what, walk ten miles? And then another couple hundred miles across zombie-infested territory – against zombies who might be confused or might be out to eat us because their 'king' tells them to – and that's assuming any of this is right? Which, I might add, is a huge assumption considering that this kid," and he jerked a big thumb in Christopher's direction, "is the one who came up with the whole theory in the first place?"
Mo straightened. Still wounded, but again Christopher was struck by the fact that this was a very rich, very powerful man. Someone who had the wherewithal to build a hidden bunker with nearly infinite resources, who had picked up a living buzz saw with his bare hands and used it against a dozen zombies.
"My friend, calm yourself," said Mo. "I cannot speak for all of what has been said. I have no answers beyond what I feel – though I feel that much of what has been said here is truth. And you yourself said something much the same, did you not?" He held Buck's gaze with his own. The two big men stared at one another for a moment. Not in a challenging way, but in a way that Christopher was hard pressed to define for a moment. Then he realized: it was as though the Māori were a big brother, trying to impress on his younger sibling the importance of what he was saying.
Buck nodded. His lips pursed. He accepted.
Fate. Only Mo could have had this effect on Buck. He had to be here, so he was.
Mo's eyes shifted. He took in the entire group. "I do not know what lays ahead. Not all. But I can speak to how we shall get to Crow City, at least. And I can say this." His eyes twinkled. "We shall travel in the greatest style."
38
THE FIRST STEP HAD been the scariest. Leaving the bunker.
They had only been there a matter of hours, and already Christopher had come to rely on it as a place of refuge, of comfort, of safety. Even though it had been all those things for only a short time – that time had been one of unexpected bliss.
Still, when Mo told Amulek to "get the go-bags," and the teen brought out seven backpacks, the fear amplified to near terror. "Good," said Mo approvingly. "I do not think we should bring any for the little girls, either, Amulek. They shall share our stores." He turned to Christopher. "Inside each bag is supplies for seventy-two hours, with only water lacking – though there are water filtration units inside each."
Christopher hardly heard the descriptions of the bags. All he heard were calculations in his mind: Seven bags. Nine people. Minus two bags for the girls.
Which means Mo and Amulek are going with us.
Even more than the loss of the bunker, he had worried about losing the Māoris. The quick-to-smile hunter, his stolid and steadfast grandson. Both of them like rocks in a storm – near-immovable and always able to be counted on as anchor points.
They're coming with us.
Thank you, God. Thank you.
(fate)
Before they could shoulder their packs, Buck pointed out what had to come next: "So... who's gonna check what's up there?"
Aaron took a few steps toward the hall that led out of the infirmary, but before he got far, Amulek slipped past him and was out of the room. Nothing but a machete on his hip and his ever-present bow slung over his shoulder – though Christopher suspected he would grab a fistful of arrows from the weapons cache hidden in the wet room.
Aaron stared at the teen as he went. "He serious?"
"Deadly," said Christopher. "And I mean that in every sense of the word."
Everyone waited. Moments stretched into minutes. Minutes into what seemed an eternity.
A sound made them all jump. It was Lizzy. She shifted slightly on the floor. They stared at her, and Christopher wondered if they were all thinking the same thing he was – waiting for her to wake up or start talking in that weird voice she had spoken in before, or maybe just explode.
She did none of those things. Just turned over and snored. Maggie gathered the child into her arms. Christopher took the opportunity to put the cell remote into one of Hope's pockets. At least that way it would be guaranteed to stay close to one of them.
His fingers cramped after he let go of the remote. He hadn't realized how tightly he had been holding it.
A sound floated in from the wet room. Everyone tensed. Waited.
Amulek returned. Like Christopher and Mo, who had fought off the last onslaught of zombies in the bunker, he was covered in ichor – but some of it seemed a bit... newer.
The teen made a series of quick hand signs. Mo nodded. "He apologizes for taking so long. He wanted to make sure it would be safe to leave."
"Sure," muttered Buck. "Tell him we accept his apology."
"He can hear, moron," said Christopher.
"Who you calling moron, moron?"
Amulek gestured with an arrow – sure enough, he'd picked up some more of them – and Buck and Christopher quieted.
But, surprisingly, the teen was grinning.
They all shouldered their bags. Buck and Maggie each picked up a child.
"Wait," said Christopher. "Don't move."
He pulled off his belt, then threaded it through the right shoulder strap of Maggie's pack and the left shoulder strap of Buck's. "This'll keep you guys close enough that you'll both be in range of the jammer." He clapped Buck on the shoulder. "The four-legged-zombie-frequency-jamming-race. A new game for the whole family, and you get to be the beta tester, Clucky!"
Buck growled. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."
"Sorry. I'll stick with the Māori term." He looked at Mo. "What was it?"
Mo grinned. "Takatāpui."
"Right. Poopy it is."
He jumped out of range of Buck's grasping fingers.
The group moved to the wet room, where Christopher and Amulek quickly rinsed off some of the ichor that splattered their arms, necks, and faces. After that, Amulek carefully cleaned Mo's skin. Mo grimaced occasionally, but was mostly impassive.
Christopher had to respect him. Again. More. How the guy could even be moving was a miracle. Christopher would have been in a coma by now. And crying. And sucking his thumb.
After cleaning off, they restocked their weapons. The weapons cache was hidden under one of the toilets, and though Aaron seemed to take the location itself in stride, his eyes bulged when he saw its contents. Even after using several of the weapons with all the corresponding ammo to repel – or try to repel – the zombie attack – there was still a lot of firepower left.
Aaron tucked two handguns into the waist of his pants, then took a long gun with a scope.
Theresa took two handguns as well, along with a shotgun.
Christopher took a shotgun, a single revolver. Maggie and Buck only had room for a single handgun since they were holding the little girls.
Amulek took a handgun. And held onto his arrows. He had never used a quiver, simply holding the arrows in the same hand that nocked and drew the arrows – firing one and then swinging the next into place in a single, terrifyingly fast motion.
Mo took nothing. He couldn't. He never would again. And Christopher thought he looked sad as the others chose their weapons. Then he turned around, his back to the group. Christopher thought he was hiding grief for a moment, then Amulek attached a smaller pack to the hunter's go-bag and stuffed it full of ammo. Even with no hands, the Māori would make himself useful.
They left the bunker. It was still completely dark outside. The black of a place where night not only ruled, i
t held sway with a completeness unknown on the earth for a hundred years and more. The only lights came from the stars and moon.
Christopher thought he saw something glow to the north, but it was dim. Could have been his imagination. Probably was. Power was gone. Lights were gone.
All was dark now. Everywhere.
Nearby something twitched in the mounds of asparagus that hid the bunker entrance. And now Christopher understood what Amulek had meant by "making sure it would be safe to leave." A zombie head lay on the ground, pinned to the dirt by an arrow. The rest of the creature lay in more than a dozen pieces, still moving but scattered more or less harmlessly in a circle about twenty feet across. The pieces had all started to secrete the yellow, waxy substance that somehow healed the zombies. But even healed, there was only so much a six-inch piece of forearm could do.
"Nice," said Aaron. He nodded at Amulek. Amulek didn't nod back. Simply accepting the compliment as his due.
They trekked over the mounds, across the field. Not the direction they had come – away from the canal that had brought them here in the first place.
Maggie whispered something.
"Ken."
39
CHRISTOPHER STOPPED. He looked around. There was nothing. Just fields to the north, the dark curves of mountains barely visible in the distance. To the south: the canal. More fields, a black strip that he knew was a forested area. No zombies, other than Humpty Dumpty nearby.
"What are we gonna do about Ken?" he said loudly.
The others all lurched to a halt as well. Literally, in the case of Buck, who nearly pitched over as Maggie stopped mid-step, forcing him to either stop or drag her over flat on her face.
"He's still out there," said Christopher. "We can't just –"
The Complete Colony Saga [Books 1-7] Page 78