Zombie Fallout (Book 13): The Perfect Betrayal

by Tufo, Mark

  We were on the move, got off the road almost immediately, and good thing, too. We didn’t see them; not yet. The rain was still coming down too heavily, but the fact that we could hear them implied they were very close. The trees weren’t as dense as back East, but that didn’t prevent us from running into and through a variety of branches, often accompanied by a stabbing pain. The nice thing was that the woods often cleared out for great swaths, and we would find ourselves on rocky plains with scrub growth. It made the moving much quicker, and we still weren’t in much danger of being spotted due to the weather. Hadn’t started looking for shelter, partly because I didn’t feel like we were far enough away yet, and secondly, well, there wasn’t anything. Didn’t so much as see an outhouse.

  We’d slowed down from our run to more of a power walk. “You feel that?” I asked. Just on the edge of my mind, there was that slicing pain of a shrieker. Too far to cause pain, but close enough that it was still within range. Although I wasn’t sure how far that range extended.

  “Yeah, I felt it.” BT had slowed down, as had we all; the terrain was too uneven to keep moving with speed, and we all were nearly carrying half our body weight in gear.

  Tommy and I would most likely be all right, but hypothermia for BT was a real concern. He’d never say anything to the effect, but I needed to get him somewhere we could build a fire and get his clothes dry. His poncho barely fit, but that didn’t matter much, considering all the sweat the run had produced. We were all soaked. I wanted mine dry because clinging clothes; yeah, you guessed it, another of my pet peeves. Can’t fucking stand it. If I was alone right now, there was better than even money I would strip down to my boots.

  I was looking for any sort of light on the horizon, although there weren’t very many strangers these days willing to take in wayward travelers. And without the influence of some savvy preppers, there wouldn’t arbitrarily be any lights on just for the sake of illuminating a darkened area. And even a light in the middle of a storm did not signify salvation. BT’s teeth were chattering; whatever we did needed to be done soon.

  “Tommy, can you get Winters on the phone?” I was still looking for someplace to temporarily call home.

  He handed the phone over. “This is Sergeant Winters.”

  “Winters, what’s your status?”

  “Still moving, sir. There are pockets of zombies all along the highway; every time we think we can finally pull over and double back, there are more. What’s going on with you?”

  “We’re on foot. Going to try and find a place to dig in for the night. Find someplace secure; will radio when we do the same.”

  “Stay safe, sir.”

  “That’s the idea.” I handed the receiver back to Tommy.

  “I think we’re in a park,” Tommy said. “The exit we were on was for Boise National Forest.”

  “No wonder we can’t find any place to shelter.”

  “There should be structures in here—camping cabins, hiking shelters, ranger stations, hell, toilets at least,” BT said as he began to hike again to stave off the effects of the rain and cold.

  “We need to find a trail or a road. We’re not likely to just stumble upon a shelter,” I stated the obvious. The problem was, there was almost zero visibility; can’t map out what you can’t see. The weather appeared to be conspiring against us. The deluge would not ease up, and there were pockets of fog so dense as to make walking a hazardous occupation. BT was shivering so violently I could hear the rustle of his clothes.

  When the fog became denser, we made sure to reach out and keep a hand on the other. There was a loud oomph to my right side. “We’re close,” Tommy said. BT kept moving.

  “Close to what?” I asked as Tommy blindly reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

  I had to get right up on it, my light was so ineffectual; he had banged his knees into a rock-based sign. “Lowman Ranger Station, Boise National Forest.” I was elated as I read the words, but this was like being in a white-out blizzard. Without the ability to see past five feet, we still had to find the building.

  “I’m on pavement!” BT shouted.

  “Don’t move. I don’t know where the hell you are.”

  Pockets of fog were eddying and swirling; looked like we were at the bottom of a milkshake being beaten around. I bumped into BT and dropped my flashlight. As I bent to pick it up, I saw the white reflective paint on the surface of the road. I followed its outline.

  “This is a parking spot. There’s got to be a building close by.”

  “I’m fr…freezing, Mike…can barely move anym…more. My muscles are firing randomly.”

  “I know, my friend. I’m trying.” I was worried for him; for all of us, really, but he was the one in the most immediate danger. “Tommy, did you hear? We’re in a parking lot.”

  “I’ll look for the building—you keep him moving. Ten paces out, then turn around.”

  Getting BT to move was not an easy task. Henry, when he’d had enough with any activity that involved him walking, would lay down and somehow triple his weight at the same time. I had the sneaking suspicion that BT had been taking lessons. Even Tommy and I together would not be able to carry him.

  “Come on, man, we have to keep your circulation going.”

  “Rright…. Rright.” It took him about three seconds to say those two words, he was shivering so much, and to top it off, they were slurred, and I know for a fact he wasn’t drinking. He was shuffling along like a deader, almost tipped over on me a couple of times as we made our broad turns. We were on our eleventh or twelfth mini-lap when Tommy appeared out of the mist like a ghost. I’d been so focused on keeping BT going that he’d startled me to the point of fear.

  “Found it, Mr. T!”

  “Help me get him there.” Tommy got under an arm. By this time, we were dragging BT, his boot tops scraping on the pavement. “Fuck!” I racked my nethers good on a railing.

  “Meant to warn you about that,” Tommy said as he took on more of BT’s bulk. I was busy bending over, deciding if this was a good spot to die. “Just a few feet more,” Tommy called over his shoulder.

  I swallowed down some gorge and gave him a gesture he may or may not have seen. I followed after a moment in a duck walk. Crunched over some glass as I crossed the threshold; most of the front doors had been broken out. We could see better in here. I walked past a 1/100th scale model of the park laid out in a giant case. A rack with pamphlets touting all the fun you could have in the region had been turned over. Most of them had been shredded; my guess was for small animal bedding. I followed Tommy and BT to the left, and what I guessed was the Ranger-On-Duty’s office. I was just starting to feel like I could reproduce again when Tommy found a small gas lantern and lit it.

  “Not…not sup…posed to light that in…inside,” BT stuttered as Tommy laid him out on a small couch in the ranger’s office.

  “Need to get his clothes off,” Tommy told me. “I’ll see if I can find some blankets.”

  “We’re never going to talk about this,” I told BT as I pulled the poncho over his head.

  “Yeah, be…cause this is my proudest mo…ment and I want to…to share,” he said as I helped him get his shirt off. His boots were soaked. His feet so swollen I had to pull on them hard enough that I landed on my ass when the suction broke free. I took better care to brace myself as I popped off the other side. “Pants now.”

  “Fair warning, I’m going com…mando.”

  “I hate you right now,” I said as I grabbed his belt and quickly undid it. His skin was so cold to the touch, I sincerely hoped he wasn’t in worse condition than what we could handle at the moment. I turned my head as I pulled his pants down.

  BT, was, of all things, chuckling.

  “Asshole. And I’m worried about you why?”

  Tommy came in with an armload of something just as I got the pants free.

  “Lost and found clothes. Tons of jackets, hats, gloves—enough to cover him in a makeshift blanket, at least until I can fi
nd something better.”

  BT was shaking so hard he couldn’t even thank us for what we had done.

  “Don’t worry about it, man, just get warm,” I told him. We packed him tight like he was a fragile major award about to be shipped across the country by the less than friendly postal service during Christmas. We kept rubbing his legs and chest until the most violent of the shakes dissipated and he fell into a deep sleep.

  “That was close,” I said as I moved away and stripped off the majority of my wet clothes. I was down to just my pants, happy to get my sloshing boots off. I was checking the office; the walls were covered with pictures of the wildlife taken at the park. “There are bears here?” I should have known that, but was pretty glad we hadn’t come across any. I moved past that and to a closed door; I opened it quickly and stepped back. Can’t even write down how scared I got when I saw what I thought were a group of men standing there.

  “Clothes, just clothes. Shit.” I reached in; there were six shirts and seven pairs of ranger pants hanging up. “Always wanted to be a forest ranger.” I put a shirt on, thankful for the warmth it offered. I brought the pants over to the dim light, looking for a pair that would fit. Located one with the right waist size; unfortunately, the man they’d belonged to had not eaten all of his asparagus when he was growing up. Well, I mean, neither did I because that shit is gross, but come on. What are the odds I find a pair of pants that fit and they’re six inches too short? It was either those or some that belonged to someone affectionately known as Stretch. Tripping hazards were not an option when sprinting was the norm in this world.

  “Waders it is.” I stripped down.

  “What the fuck?” BT had one eye open and was looking at me.

  “You have got to be shitting me.” I was bent over and had one foot in the pants and began to simultaneously hop and turn around.

  “That’s not better!” he shouted. “Is that what you do when people are asleep you sick bastard?!”

  I pulled the pants up as quick as humanly possible and tucked everything away before zipping up.

  “Nice pants.” He was looking at my ankles and a fair portion of my calves.

  “Glad to see you’re doing better.”

  “I was, but now I feel like I’ve taken a couple of steps backward.”

  “How you feeling?”

  “I hate to be a burden on the mission, but I think I’m running a fever.”

  “Naw, man, this was a stupid move on my part. I should have never dragged everyone out on a hunch.”

  “It was more than a hunch, Mike. Remember—I was there.”

  In the dark, on foot, and separated from the rest of the squad, it was easy to let all those doubts seep in. It didn’t get better when Tommy came back in the room.

  “Can’t raise them,” he said as he put the radio down on a desk. “Could have to do with the weather; for some reason, fog messes the signal up.”

  “One problem at a time. BT’s not feeling too good.” I began to rifle through the drawers on the desk, came up with a half-used bottle of aspirin and an uneaten Pop-Tart. I shook three of the tablets free and handed them over to BT. “Got nothing to wash it down with,” I told him.

  “Kind of sick of water at the moment anyway.” He gulped them down. “If you don’t mind, I’m going back to sleep. I would appreciate it if you didn’t stick your junk and ass in my face.”

  “Do I even want to know?” Tommy asked.

  “This fucking night.” I broke the conversation as I ripped the packet open. “Cherry flavored. Could it get any worse?” I handed one of the thin pastries to Tommy and one to BT as his hand snuck out from under a jacket. “Unbelievable.” I got up and decided to check out the rest of the facility. Wasn’t much to it; it was like most ranger stations. There was a large, semi-circular desk area where you could ask a ranger for information, the requisite diorama, some bathrooms that I’m sure got most of the use in this building, and a small break room. There was a coffee pot, dozens of coffee pods, and hundreds of sugar packets that I was contemplating eating just the way they were.

  “I laid out BT’s clothes. They should be dry in a few hours. Not sure how long it’ll take our boots to get that way.” Tommy shined his light down on his toes as he wiggled them. Raisins had nothing on them—in the wrinkled department, I mean. Not sweetness, not that I was ever going to try his toes or anyone’s for that matter, to check.

  “Thank you. I’m going to get our rifles dry one at a time. If you can keep an eye on the door while I do that, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Mr. T.”

  I know there were detractors to the function and ability of the M-16, but if kept clean and maintained properly, it did its job admirably. Within five minutes, I had mine broken down into as many parts as I could without armory tools. An hour later, I had all of the weapons dry, but more importantly, serviceable.

  “You think they followed us?” Tommy asked. I looked over to him as we stared at the door from the information center.

  “Seems that’s a question I would ask you. You’re more in the know than I am.” He said nothing. “But yeah, I think they’re following us. Wouldn’t doubt it at all if they are developing tracking skills. How they’re going to find us in this pea soup fog and rain, I don’t know, but they will. Things are changing out there, and these bullets, they’re not going to help. Tough to tell if the short-term gains are better than the long-term losses, but according to Bennington, we’re running out of that. Long term, outlooks, I mean.”

  “I knew what you meant.”

  We didn’t do much of anything, just listened to the barrage of rain smacking the tin roof. Got so loud, sounded like hail. It could have been sleet, but I wasn’t going outside to check. I did look in on BT; he was sleeping through it all.

  “Get some sleep, Mr. T. I’ll take the first watch.”

  “You sure?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to sleep much tonight.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t think so.” He had a strange expression on his face. I waited for a few seconds to see if he would yield his stance; when it began to become awkward, I went to find a nice throw rug to fall asleep on. Not surprisingly, I dreamed I’d been shrunken down and dropped into a large bowl of thick creamy soup. The peas had sprouted arms and had a proclivity for meat; it was my task to avoid them at all turns. Maybe it was surprising, upon reflection. It was still dark out when I awoke. My heart was pounding because I’d heard something; what it was, was still a mystery. The lantern next to BT had been dimmed, but I could still see his face. Whatever I’d heard had not been loud enough to penetrate the depths he was exploring. There was sweat on his forehead, but he had a better hue to him overall, so that was good.

  More rustling. I sat up and moved right into a standing position, my rifle clutched in my hands. I moved as quietly as I could to the door of the office and peeked out. An untended lone candle flickered in the main room.

  “Tommy?” I said quietly enough that if I wasn’t standing where I was, I wouldn’t have heard it. I cleared my throat and added a decibel or two. Still nothing. There was a thump against the far side of the building; a heavy mist rolled in through the broken glass. The set-up was strange enough that the thought was there that I might still be asleep. I pinched myself because, apparently, this was the universal and well-regarded way to tell if one were still dozing. Not that I necessarily believed it, but what other choice did I have?

  Another loud thumping; this was followed by the oomph of a human (or a vampire, in this case), or so I hoped. “Tommy, what the fuck is going on?” Normally that would have an exclamation point at the end, but I couldn’t get up the nerve to yell. The boy materialized at the entryway, the fog clearing just enough to look as if he’d sprung forth from it. He was covered in blood; his eyes had a strange set to them. His mouth was open enough, I could see his elongated fangs.

  “Tommy?” I had my rifle at the ready. He looked over
to me. I got the strangest sensation he didn’t quite know who I was. He took a step closer; I brought the rifle to my shoulder.

  He shook his head back and forth as if trying to clear something distasteful from his mind. “We have a problem,” he said huskily. I was hesitant to lower my rifle, wondering if he meant I had a problem with him trying to drain me dry and then he would have the problem of wrestling with the guilt. Or if he meant something different. “You might want to see this.” He turned slightly so I had access to the door.

  “You want me to go outside?” The better to hide what I do from BT was the errant thought that crept into my mind.

  “You want me to drag it in?”

  “Drag what in?”

  “You’re scared.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Safe to say.”

  “New zombie adaptation.”

  “Why are you in, umm…V-mode?”

  “I think if you look, you’ll know.”

  “Little freaked out here, kid.”

  “Mr. T, we don’t have much time. We’re going to have to get BT up and going soon. I bought us a little leeway, but not that much.”

  Even with the rifle and fifteen feet between us, Tommy could still take me, but willingly going toward his deadly embrace was not something I wanted to do. I was saddened I felt that way, but I’m sure I’d be even sadder once he dropped those fangs into my neck. When he realized I wasn’t going to move, he went back outside, a look of hurt on his face as he turned. I debated following him and apologizing; instead, I found myself rooted to the spot.

  A few seconds later he dragged in a misshapen creature and deposited it roughly on the floor like a cat bringing in a mangled rodent. He dropped it so hard that BT called out, “What’s going on?”

  “Don’t know yet,” I told him.

  “Do I need clothes on?”

  “Probably.” I could not take my gaze away from the lump on the ground. “What am I looking at?” I had moved forward, seemingly not of my own volition. Curiosity was steering the ship.

  “I think I found how they’re following us,” Tommy said.

  The thing, while having the arms and legs of a human, looked otherworldly. Its head was bordering on the size of a bulker, though the rest of it was proportionate to a normal male. Its eyes were wide open and easily three times the size of your standard God-issue; they swung way past anime-sized and were heading straight for classic gray alien. The ears seemed to have gone through much of the same mutation as the eyes, as they were enormous. Dumbo would have been jealous, but where his were large flaps of skin that made him capable of flight, these were entirely rigid and did not appear to be able to bend. Splat in the middle was the strangest transfiguration of them all: the nose. It swept across the entirety of his broad face, the nostrils large enough I could have shoved a fist in them, had I been so inclined. I was not.