“I think it’s because it’s very high up and they’re normally narrow, so only a cat would risk it,” said Roxy. “Anyway, we need to get up there. Zombies don’t climb. Nobody’s exposed the ladder yet, so I’m thinking that catwalk’s kind of off everyone’s radar.”
“So, our private retreat?”
“I’m hoping we don’t need it. I just want us all to be thinking about it.”
“Canoodling,” said Terry.
“Canoodle on it, if that’s how you work.”
“I’m a great canoodler. And I believe in survival of the scarediest.”
“Right now, we need to go to the food storage pantries and grab enough canned food – stuff we can eat without heating – for like three or four days. I’ll do the same. If everything goes sideways, we might need to perch up there for a while, like little, out-of-reach birds.”
Liam went with Roxy to the larger of the two pantries on the west side of the auditorium. Terry made his way through the crowd to the other pantry in the southeast corner.
They filled their backpacks.
Ω
Outside the auditorium, less than a mile-and-a-half away, the enormous horde shuffled toward the northeast. Turning the giant wave of dead humanity was like turning a cruise ship – only slower. They tended to fan out rather than all move together.
At least at first. Eventually, after the initial spreading apart, they would tend to flow together again, but not before they made some northern progress.
Too much, if you were to ask the two men trying to maneuver them.
Ken and Sarge, two of the town’s seven demolitions experts, stared at the horde from around a wrecked pickup truck. It was dark and they’d figured out the dead folks couldn’t see very well at night; all of them had cataracts clouding their eyes – a black version that seemed to make them operate more by the taste of the air than by any kind of sight.
Both men felt a huge sense of responsibility to the town of Lebanon. They’d each been among the best fighters, but the group staying behind needed at least a couple of tactically minded individuals to stay and help secure Lebanon in the others’ absence.
As the huge horde continued to advance, Ken and Sarge hoped they could complete their latest mission.
“If we wanna complete this turn, we’re gonna have to make a good long run and set some charges off that way. It’s a thick group. The rear’s pushin’ forward even when the front slows, so it’s a trick.”
“Yeah,” Sarge said. His voice was muffled and husky, like there was a hole in his throat and too much air accompanied the vibration of his vocal cords. “I’d like to blow some craters in the road right in front of ‘em, though,” he said. “Goddamned monsters.”
“It don’t work,” said Ken, adjusting his cowboy hat on his head. He was almost the exact opposite of Sarge, a wiry little guy with bony shoulders and a keen eye for detail. “They just fall in, stack up, and march right over themselves. Like a filled pothole.”
“Deep-ass hole, man,” said Sarge, who liked blowing things up.
“Deep as you like, still won’t do nothin’,” said Ken. “Look, we need to sprint if we’re gonna divert these fucks. Shoulda brought more guys.”
“Let’s go,” said Sarge. They took off.
Sarge was 49 years old, a former Army combat engineer who served in Iraq long after Saddam Hussein was eliminated. It turned out there were still plenty of terrorist strongholds that needed blowing up.
Sarge was thicker now than he was then, but he was still fit and able to run for good distances without wheezing and whining. He still had his gray hair cut high and tight like a nostalgic military veteran, and he could also still run five miles at a stint if he needed to.
Ken was a former United States Marine, but he got his expertise with explosives working for a large construction company in northwest Texas. They did some big projects, and he was most familiar with the use of ANFO, which stood for Ammonium Nitrate-Fuel Oil.
It could make one hell of an explosion.
Currently, they were out of it, though. They’d mixed up a large batch, but this horde had proved to be larger and harder to manipulate than they’d expected.
“Light ‘em up,” huffed Ken when they stopped. “Two sticks.”
The dynamite they’d confiscated from the numb nut newbies who’d come to the group, was stable – no sweating, no other signs of instability – and Sarge bent down to remove two sticks from his pack. He placed the charges, uncoiled the fuse, and lit it.
They ran to the east, stopping and turning to face the charge they had just set.
The sound came from behind them. Both men turned.
The enormous horde they had been fighting to divert was flowing north, straight up Main Street, but it also encompassed every street in Lebanon to the east. Keeping ahead of them had proved to be difficult, to say the least.
Their mouths fell open as they saw another massive horde of the dead moving in a westerly direction toward them, trampling empty fields, staggering across deserted roadways and between dilapidated buildings, Sarge charged forward, toward the charges they’d set.
“Ken, come here!”
Ken hesitated, watching him. Sarge bent down and picked up the sticks of dynamite. The slow-burning fuse continued its progression forward.
When Ken did not move, Sarge ran toward him, the sticks of dynamite in his hands. Ken stumbled backward.
“No, buddy. No. We’re done.” Sarge’s voice was resigned to his fate. “Let’s take some out with us.”
Ken looked over his shoulder again. The low thrum of the moving horde permeated his ears and his mind. He took the radio off his belt and pushed the button. “Lebanon, come in, Lebanon. We’ve lost the fight. They’re comin’.”
He held out his hand and nodded. Sarge pressed the stick of dynamite into his palm, the fuse growing shorter with each passing second. “Hooah, motherfucker. Good fightin’ with you,” said Sarge.
Ken clapped him on the shoulder, “Oorah, brother.”
They turned and ran toward the horde of oncoming skinwalkers. Neither man heard the explosions that blew their bodies apart.
The horde pressed northward.
Ω
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Banks of Rattlesnake Creek
Unincorporated Modac County
Magi Silver Bolt raised his rifle as the many vehicles stopped along the narrow dirt road leading down to the banks of Rattlesnake Creek. The clearing where the pumping equipment was located was big enough for several of their vehicles, but it had reached capacity.
As the headlights extinguished and the shadowy figures began making their way down to where Tala, Tommy Rivers and Magi waited, he whispered, “What if they try to overtake us?”
“They will not,” said Tala. “I heard it in the girl’s voice. Lilly. She was sincere. If I had sensed otherwise, I would not have shared what I did.”
The first to reach them was a petite blonde woman with long hair and a smile that was surely genuine on her pretty face. Behind her were two exceptionally tall men; one was an African American man with a friendly face and a handsome smile; the other was a white man of approximately the same age, only slightly shorter than the other.
Magi held out his hand and Lilly shook it first. “I’m Lilly Baxter. I’m sorry about what happened to your chief.”
“I am chief now,” said Magi. “As they say, when one door closes.”
The black man held his hand out to Magi after shaking that of Tommy and Tala. “Pleased to meet you … what do I call you?”
“Chief Silver Bolt,” blurted Tommy. “He is our chief now,” he added, as though unsure whether his input was welcomed.
“It’s good to meet you, Chief Silver Bolt,” said Danny. “We drove through some serious stuff to get here.”
A tall, friendly-looking white man held out his hand and Magi Silver Bolt shook it. “Chief, it’s good to meet you. I’m Cole Baxter. Folks call me CB.” He shook the othe
rs’ hands as well.
Georgie stayed in the truck; she was trying to get Roxy or Terry on the radio and had been unable to raise them for the last two hours of the trip, no matter how many times she had tried. The team in her vehicle was also worried, but knew as well as all the rest of the group that there was nothing that could be done from where they were.
That fact did nothing to alleviate her fears, or anyone else’s. They all wanted her daughter and her friend, and all the rest of those left behind in Lebanon to be okay.
For the moment, all we could do was urge things along here and pray.
Micky walked up and held out his hand to the three, who all shook it. “I’m Micky Rode,” he said. “I’m pretty much the reason we’re all together, and all here. I saw Chief Wattana’s video.”
“He was maneuvered to that point for many, many years,” said Tala. “By my father. He is known as Qaletaqa.”
“Shit, another name I have to learn how to say,” the man named CB said, a friendly smile on his face.
“I fear he is on his way here now,” said Tala. “He is determined, and he has a plan. The skinwalkers are his army, and –”
“And he was helped by me,” said Magi. “I did not mean to, but I … shared something I should not have.”
Tala allowed Magi his moment of shame, but did not let it linger for more than a second or two.
She continued speaking, sharing with the group what had happened in the dark pool within the cavern so long ago, always pausing to examine the looks on their faces to determine whether they had fallen into utter disbelief.
When she was finished, they all stared at her. The man named Danny said, “You’re how old?”
“Sixty-three. I did not misspeak. The place we are going to may hold the answers to what has become of the world.”
“Is this worldwide?” asked Lilly. “We had no idea.”
“Despite my own situation,” said Tala, “I did not believe the depth of what was possible. I believed my father was powerful, and I knew he was determined, but I still underestimated the power of what lies in the cave system we are about to visit.”
Several others came up to introduce themselves, including a man who called himself Tank, and a man and a woman, Carla Solis and Jimmy Sanchez, of the Nacogdoche tribe from Texas.
“Are you ready?” asked Magi. “Do you need time to rest?”
“This is urgent, right?” Cole Baxter asked. “We’re in a hurry?”
“How urgent it is depends on where my father is now,” said Tala. “But time is of the essence.”
“Then let’s go,” said Danny. “Backpacks, water, flashlights and weapons. Is everyone going?”
“I need to go talk to Georgie,” said CB.
“Did she reach Lebanon yet?” asked Lilly.
“I’m about to find out,” the man answered.
Ω
I walked back to the truck where Georgie sat inside. When I pulled open the door and the interior light went on, I saw tears streaming down my girl’s face.
I jumped into the front seat and spun around to face her, as she sat in the back clutching the transceiver on the radio.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to hide the desperation in my voice.
“It’s … the horde. The two men who went out to lead them away failed. They just got a transmission in. It’s enormous.”
“Were they able to … I mean, what were they trying to do?”
“Lead it away with more explosives after those other’s drew the horde to town. It was too big,” she sniffled. “They couldn’t get it to turn, and now all of them are heading north through Lebanon.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, knowing the rest of our group back at the small town, were sitting ducks. “No way to talk to Roxy?”
Georgie shook her head. “Larry’s working the radio,” she said. “He’s set up in the steeple of the church a block down from the auditorium. He can already see them.”
“You gave Terry a ham radio, right?”
“I don’t know if he has it turned on. I cycled through some frequencies but couldn’t get him to answer,” she said. “Cole, what are we going to do?”
“Roxy’s a smart girl, and as long as Terry has that ham, there’s a chance. For now, come with –”
“I can’t stop trying to reach her!”
“You can’t wait here, Georgie! Together we can do this, but I won’t leave you up there with that Qualitaco dude on his way here.”
“Qualitaco?” said Georgie. “What … who is that?”
“I’ll explain, and I probably have the name wrong. Bring the handheld ham and help me grab some water and weapons. We need to go now, sweetheart.”
I knew she was tormented and in distress but leaving her there to try to reach Roxy was not going to happen. I helped her gather our supplies, and before we were done, Danny and Lilly were beside us, loading up.
“Keep the radio on,” I said. “I understand there’s a little hike before we reach where we’re going. With any luck, Terry will figure his shit out and turn on his radio.”
Ω
Lebanon, Kansas
Roxy, Liam and Terry were all back at their makeshift sleeping quarters, all of their belongings and pilfered food tucked securely into three backpacks. They were prepared to move.
The three lay on their backs, all staring upward at the elevated platform high overhead when Terry whispered, “It’s made of steel. How many people do you think could fit up there?”
Roxy shrugged. “How many is it designed for? It’s for access to the lights, the scoreboard, and other stuff. Probably not too many would be expected up there at one time.”
“Well, first of all, there’s no way we could make it up there without people noticing, so we have to weigh our options.”
A door opened and a man’s voice called out, “They’re coming! The dead! Everybody, get your weapons and find a place to hide or … I don’t know, just … .”
“How soon?” someone yelled out. “How far away are they?”
The door slammed. The man had apparently shared enough and had gone to save himself.
The entire crowd jumped to their feet, Liam included. Roxy’s arm snatched out and grabbed the back of Liam’s long-sleeved tee shirt. “Down!” she said. “Give them time to do what they’re going to do!”
The panicked peoples’ voices rose to assault their ears like an encore at a Metallica concert. They waited until the crowd around them had thinned, with several running out the many doors and out into the night beyond the protection of the auditorium.
Roxy jumped to her feet. “Okay, now we have to go!” She lifted her weighed-down backpack and picked up the .22 Henry she’d been assigned, slinging the strap over her shoulder as others around them bumped and jostled them.
Terry and Liam were on their feet beside her. Terry had his backpack and weapon slung, too. “Go for the catwalk?”
“We don’t have a choice, right?”
Terry turned to her. “Remember when we were in Hemingway’s house? We thought we were dead, right?”
Roxy nodded. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cacophony of panicked voices. “This is worse. I think it is. They said the horde is huge.”
“Let’s trust that catwalk,” said Terry. “Try to do it orderly. Spread people out. If we do that, it should hold.”
“Not everybody,” said Roxy. “Terry, once we start up, they’ll all flood onto that ladder!”
“You said you needed to break that thing holding the door closed. You have something to do it with?”
Roxy withdrew a long knife with a narrow blade. “This should do it.”
Now all the building’s doors were open, and people flooded outside. As Roxy watched, she saw most of them turn toward the north at a run.
They’re going to try to outrun them, thought Roxy. Should we?
“C’mon, Rox, Liam!” shouted Terry, and nudged his way through the crowd, pulling her by the strap of her backpack. Roxy
followed, giving up any other ideas at his urging.
When they reached the ladder, a woman was standing there already, pulling on the wire tab that held the stairway cover in place.
Her son, Gabriel, stood beside her, his thumb in his mouth, a small blanket over his shoulders. His face was dirty, and he looked very small at that moment.
“Please, move,” said Roxy, moving forward, her knife in hand but held down and out of sight.
“Why?” the woman asked.
“Because I’m going to break the seal, now please, move now!” said Roxy.
Now people were flooding back and forth through the many doors as if they had no idea where to go for safety. Banging, screaming, even some occasional gunfire turned the former silence into a growing panic as people fell down and were trampled by others trying to get to a place other than where they were.
Roxy jammed the knife between the wire and the plastic retainer and twisted it. The wire snapped easily, and the piece fell away.
“Stand back!” said Roxy, turning. When she did, she saw others noticing what she was doing. She hurriedly yanked the cover open, pivoting it on its hinges as the ladder beneath was exposed.
“Go, Rox!” shouted Terry.
“No, she and her son first, then Liam!” Roxy said, grabbing the woman by her arm and pulling her to the ladder.
“Gabriel!”
“I’ll carry him!” said another man who appeared beside them. “Just go!”
Roxy shook her head as she glanced at the man, but realized the inevitable; there would be lots of others up there trying to survive. “Okay, go. Hurry!”
The terrified woman scrambled up the ladder as the man scooped the boy named Gabriel into his arms and one-handed him up the ladder right on the woman’s heels.
“Now Liam, go!” said Terry.
Liam charged up as though effortlessly. Behind him, Roxy mounted the ladder and climbed for all she was worth. She reached the top and slid onto the catwalk behind the red-headed boy, turning to help pull Terry up and through the opening.
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