“How many farmers do you see with us? Women? Builders? Laborers? Very few. When we got to this beach, what were we going to eat? What kind of world were we going to build? I don’t think she understands that having territory and leading people is more than winning battles. You have to build a society that functions. Once these boys settle down in the territory she conquers, they’re going to want three things—food, women, and entertainment.”
“You don’t give your men much credit,” Obevens said.
“They’re men, Captain. In the Springs, she inherited a well-oiled machine, a functioning city with weak enemies and ample supplies!” Bowen’s voice rose, and he calmed himself. “She’s never taken on building a whole new civilization!”
“Why tell me this?”
“Frankly, you’re the only person I can trust. Some commanders would use this information against me. Drew would probably blurt it out, thinking it would strengthen his arguments. You have nothing to gain by throwing me under. You also have no desire to win favor with Sara.”
“Fair enough. So what are you going to do?”
“I see two options,” Bowen said.
“All right, what’s the first option?”
“Kill her,” Bowen whispered, hardly believing the words were coming from his mouth while surrounded by her army.
“Okay. What’s the other?”
“I help you escape, and we go to your people. I join them.”
“You wouldn’t be a general with ‘my’ people. I don’t think I’ll even be a captain anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t really care where I go. I see where this mission of hers is headed, so I’m dead either way. At least out there I have a better chance.”
“She won’t let us just escape. She’ll make sure we are hunted down and killed.”
“Then we go with the first option.”
Chapter 9
John and Mark studied the small red rocks. They were in a definite line coming up the trail.
“Walkers don’t follow rocks,” Mark stated.
John shook his head. “If you had said that a week ago I would have agreed. Now I’m less sure.”
They pressed on.
The next day, as they came around a bend in the road, they caught sight of a short, emaciated man also walking north. His body was covered in indistinguishable tattoos. He was barefoot, and all he wore was a filthy loin cloth. He was pulling red rocks out of a large sack and carefully dropping them on the ground in a line. John and Mark quickly and quietly crouched behind some boulders on the side of the road.
“We can ask him about the rocks,” John whispered, half-joking, but Mark emphatically shook his head.
John ignored his son’s concern and stood up. As he walked toward him the man slipped out of sight. John decided to follow him.
“Dad!” Mark hissed.
John ignored Mark and pressed forward. He could see the man’s footprints in the wet ground. It had rained the day prior, and the sun had yet to dry the forest floor. The trees grew thicker and darker here. He followed the footprints until they abruptly ended, but there was still no sign of the man. There was wet sand everywhere. He would have left a track. John looked up in the trees but they weren’t big enough to climb. A chill went up his neck and he spun around. No one.
John went back to Mark, who noticed that his father looked a little pale.
“What happened?” Mark asked.
“I lost him,” John replied shortly.
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know, probably down the mountain. Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t approach strangers anyway. Who knows who they are.” John stared into the trees around them.
Mark could tell something was off, but didn’t really want to know.
One thing was for certain, the red rocks seemed to keep other humans away. Whether it was superstition or reality they didn’t know, but in the week after coming across the small man in the woods, they didn’t see another soul. Occasionally they came across a line of the rocks, and John would find a different path that went in the same general direction. The trails ran everywhere and snaked through the forest and appeared to have been created by both animals and humans. They spooked up a small lame doe that ran off a short distance and then stopped. John sent Mark down the ridge a ways to come at it from the far side. Mark crept slowly, taking a full hour to make the approach. He then tromped up behind it and spooked it within ten yards of John who threw a spear he’d fashioned a few days prior. Miss. It stumbled over a log and fell on the ground. John was on top of it. It kicked and thrashed at its captor. “Hurry!” John yelled as he tried snapping its neck. Mark grabbed the spear and drove it into the deer’s lungs. It died over the next ten seconds, gasping and terrified in John’s arms.
They risked a fire that night to roast the meat. The fire might attract people, but they needed a hot meal if they were going to make it any further.
As they lay there under the stars, half-dozing and absentmindedly picking their teeth, John heard a whisper through the forest sounds. In his semi-conscious state, John didn’t pay it mind, but then it pierced clearly through his sleepiness. His name, spoken clearly and audibly. John. He froze. He looked to Mark, but he had fallen asleep.
John picked up his spear and stood, scanning the darkness. The forest, which was normally loud with the chirr of insects and wildlife, was strangely silent. A mist hung in the air and obscured his vision. John’s heart raced. He wanted to grab Mark and run but something was holding him still.
Then, through the mist, he saw the small man who’d been dropping the rocks. He was only twenty yards away. His intense blue eyes contrasted sharply with his dark brown skin. He pierced straight into John’s eyes. John couldn’t speak or move, and he felt the spear slip from his hand.
John.
Chapter 10
Lieutenant Guirguis admired the mountain range that the old Air Force Academy looked up to. Jutting thousands of feet toward the sky, their shoulders seemed to hold up the clouds. Cold weather was late this year, and the mountains bases were still swathed in green.
He had taken up residence in one of the old officers’ quarters on the old Academy. It was quite comfortable. Definitely a step up from his previous home further south near the remains of Palmer Park. The “Park” was what was left of an open space near the center of town. Large sections of the park had been destroyed by squatters in the early years after the outbreak. Over the years, several small fires had broken out and many trees had been cut for fuel or shelter. He had still found untouched parts to enjoy. But now, he had this pristine section of Rampart Range all to himself.
Sara had left behind Herbert Academy’s records and logs. She kept them in a box marked “historic documents.” Guirguis thought that was a bit presumptuous, but he still enjoyed perusing them. He learned the “legendary founder” had chosen the Academy as his home and base of operations for a few reasons. The first was proximity to steep trails that led into the mountains. If they were ever overrun with the undead, they could head up the trails. Herbert knew that walkers had difficulty going uphill, he suspected because of a weakening of their hip flexors, and that going into the mountains was the surest means of escape. Other reasons included easily accessible water sources, ample trees for firewood, plenty of intact infrastructure, and stunning natural beauty. Herbert also wrote of feeling a sense of authority when he was on the Academy. His parents were retired military and had instilled in him appreciation for duty, honor and discipline. Herbert could feel these things when he stood on the grounds of the former Academy. He even went so far as to rename himself after the Academy to complete his connection to this place. It would be the heart from which to build his community.
Guirguis found “community” an interesting choice of words. That wasn’t what he thought of when he considered where he lived. The word “cartel” had long since replaced it. Guirguis wasn’t sure who was responsible for that shift. He had looked up the word “cartel” onc
e in the library. In his paraphrase, it meant a business agreement between various commodity-controlling entities to keep prices high so they could profit more. The definition confused him because there was no agreement between the Academy, Fountain, or New Generation cartels.
Although, that might change, he admitted.
Sara hadn’t thought through what her departure would do to the people who remained. Those who had left with her were the soldiers, handlers, hunters and other support staff. A few women had snuck along for the ride, but most had stayed put. It hadn’t taken long for Fountain and New Generation to realize this and begin making plans together to rule the whole city.
Guirguis’ intelligence network of informants and spies had been gutted when Sara left so he decided to use the old fashioned way to find out what the other cartels were thinking. He called a meeting with them.
He had even invited them to the Academy itself for the meeting. His goal was to send a signal of trust and openness, things he hoped could be established between them. Sara had poisoned her rivals against the Academy Cartel, and it might be too late, but Guirguis had to try. If he failed, it probably meant the death or enslavement of the farmers, women, children and elderly now under his leadership. Guirguis could be a brutal man when needed, but he did have a heart. These people had served the cartel (willingly or not) and he needed to do whatever he could to protect them from the wrath of Sara’s enemies.
Justin Beck of the New Generation and Havish Young from the Fountain Cartel had each arrived with a full entourage of guards. Guirguis had thought that would be the end right there. They were going to kill him and be done with it.
Instead they let him talk.
Guirguis had explained the situation, which they no doubt already knew, and basically laid all his weaknesses bare. He was aware that it was only a matter of time before the other cartels made a move to take everything the Academy Cartel possessed. Guirguis just wanted to make sure things were done in a way that caused the least destruction and the most advantage for all the parties involved. It wasn’t surrender but a deal. And he still had some negotiating power.
“Why should we work with you instead of just taking your stuff? You just got done explaining how weak you are,” Havish asked. He took over the cartel after Sara killed Terry Atlas. Younger, with a beard that partially hid a burn scar on the right side of his face, had been Fountain’s number two man. Justin Beck nodded in agreement. He, even more than Havish, wanted to get his hands on Academy territory and infrastructure. This was a gleaming opportunity for him.
“I can protect you from the main threat to your future power in this city. Sara?” Guirguis said.
“She’s gone. We don’t have to worry about her,” Justin said dismissively. He looked extremely tired.
Guirguis wondered what was keeping the New Generation leader up at night. “Not true. There is a decent chance she will fail in her adventures down south. If she does, she’ll return. That would mean a renewal of the status quo for you. In the event of her return, I can make sure she doesn’t regain power. I’ll even deliver her into your hands to do whatever you like.”
“That sounds like suicide for you, crossing Sara. How do we know you’ll honor the bargain?”
“I am going to give you significant pieces of territory, infrastructure and farmland. If I don’t hand her over, she’ll kill me.”
“And who says you can succeed in removing her from power?” Havish asked.
“I know how to turn her men against her,” Guirguis said. “Half of her leaders would overthrow her now—but they’re too afraid of each other to try it. Sara gave the appearance of being all powerful, but you can’t do what she’s done and not create enemies.”
“Fine. Say all that is true. What are you prepared to hand over without a fight? And why shouldn’t I just kill you now?” Justin Beck said, laying his gold-plated pistol conspicuously on the table.
“If I’m dead when she returns, you’ll be pulling a cart within a day’s time,” Guirguis said without flinching. He pulled out a pencil and a map of Colorado Springs and raised his eyebrows expectantly at the two cartel leaders.
Justin smiled, considering. “Okay. I’m in. Sounds fun.”
Havish nodded, his mouth open.
“Let’s talk about downtown,” Guirguis began.
In the end, a deal wasn’t finalized. They made plans to meet again in a week to hash out the details. New Generation wanted downtown, and Fountain wanted to extend their territory north. Guirguis would enter a cooperative food exchange with both of them and promise to turn over Sara if she came back. It was hardly just theoretical to Guirguis that Sara would return. It was a very real possibility.
Guirguis looked over gelding numbers, food stores, and ammunition counts, as he sipped his tea. The negotiations had gone fairly well. He just had to be sure about his plan to capture Sara if she returned. When she returned.
Chapter 11—December 100 A.Z / January 101 A.Z.
“Dad!” Mark urged, shaking his dad and waking him from his sleep. John jumped up immediately and scanned to see where the attackers were coming from. There weren’t any. He exhaled deeply and glared at his son. His mind was still foggy despite the alarm. They were at their camp. He didn’t remember going to sleep. All he remembered were those blue eyes.
“Look.” Mark pointed at the ground by John. The same red rocks had been placed in a circle around him. His son was frozen in fear as he stared at the rocks. John stood up and looked at them before kicking them aside.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” John said gruffly. There was no way he was going to let Mark see how scared he was. He brushed himself off, picked up his spear, and looked to the north where they were headed. He looked away and began to walk but Mark didn’t move.
“Someone was here last night! They could have killed you! Why didn’t they kill you?” Mark burst out, still not following his father.
“I don’t know,” John said, trying to sound unconcerned. “It means we need to do a better job with lookout at night.” John had already decided he wasn’t going to tell Mark about the man. It wouldn’t help.
“But…” Mark began, unable to find the words.
“The sooner we get to Tenochtitlan, the safer we’ll be.”
Mark looked dazed. Whether it was confusion or fatigue or some strange power at work, John couldn’t tell. Whatever it was he would deal with it, like everything else up to this point.
As they stood there, the whispers started, audible but unintelligible. Mark grabbed his dad’s hand and moved in closer to him. John stood in front of Mark to protect him. The whispers grew louder. They sounded like they were coming from everywhere, but no matter which way he turned, there was nothing to see.
“Stop it!” John yelled. He released Mark’s hand. Picking up a fist sized rock, he hurled it into the jungle. It crashed into the brush and rolled for a little ways. The whispers quieted.
“Show yourself!”
There was no response.
“Come on, let’s go,” John said to Mark.
The whispers started again, this time louder. This time, intelligible. We are coming.
“Listen!” Mark grabbed John’s hand again.
“I heard it,” John snarled.
“No, listen!”
John strained until he heard what Mark did. The unmistakable groans of the undead.
“Go!” John shouted. The tore off toward the nearest brush.
Two biters appeared on the path in front of them. John rammed the first out of his way and shoved the second onto its back. He grabbed Mark’s arm and dragged him along, as he kept running. The forest now echoed with gurgling groans. They ran another fifty yards only to be stopped by a dense pack of walkers in front of them. John looked to his left, his right—they were everywhere. Hundreds of them, zeroed in on their position. Then John saw him. The man with the blue eyes he’d seen the night before. He was surrounded by the walkers yet they ignored him completely. John had to ge
t to him.
“There!” John yelled to Mark, pointing at the man.
“There are too many!” Mark shouted, shrinking in toward his dad. The zombies were thirty yards away in every direction, and closing.
“Run through! Now!” John charged in the direction of the man with the blue eyes. John blasted into the walkers nearest him and knocked them out of the way. Their rotting hands grabbed at him, scratching his shoulders and face. He knocked more of them down and kept charging with all his strength through the now-frenzied pack. He was almost to the blue-eyed man. He seemed oblivious to John charging him. He was looking in the distance at something only he could see. A biter reached for John. He ripped its arm out of the socket and shattered the arm onto a large rock as he passed, splintering the bone into a sharp end. The blue-eyed man noticed John when he was a few strides away, but it was too late. John plunged the sharp arm bone into the man’s ribcage, falling on top of him.
Out of breath and filled with rage he stood and turned to face the oncoming horde. They were strangely still. Dazed, aimlessly staring into the sky if unable to remember what they were doing. Mark caught up with John and they took the moment of opportunity to put some distance between them and the walkers.
Once they were out of sight Mark panted, “Stop, Dad.”
“Just a little further!” John urged.
“No, stop!” Mark yelled.
“What are you doing?! They’re right behind us!” John wheeled around and whispered fiercely. Mark’s face was contorted and his eyes were shiny. It took John a moment to realize that his son was crying.
Sobbing, he raised his hand to show John the deep bite mark.
***
They spent the last five minutes of Mark’s life holding each other. John rocked his youngest son, his baby, just like he had at the beginning of his life. John’s heart ached inside him so painfully he wondered if he was going to die, too. At the very last, when the tremors started, John did the merciful thing.
100 A.Z. (Book 2): Tenochtitlan Page 7