And most of all, don’t get killed.
Chapter 5 – Team Joker
Joker’s team was the last vehicle to exit the main gate. The trailer they were pulling rattled loudly as they drove over the cattle guard. It worried him that it was so noisy and would have left it behind if he could’ve. Slim given them an exaggerated salute as they drove by, like he had with the others, causing Joker to smile.
“I like that young man,” Trader Joe said.
“Yeah, everyone likes him,” Joker responded.
He thought back to one night, not so long ago. After dinner, a few people had gathered in the boardroom for the usual socialization and adult beverages. The boardroom was a makeshift bar and party room in one of the unused buildings located near the helipad. After a few glasses of homemade wine, he told the room Slim was Mount Weather’s version of Gomer Pyle. Everyone laughed, including Slim, but after he and Maria went back to their room, she laid into him.
“You shouldn’t make fun of people,” she admonished. “Slim is a good man. I don’t want everyone calling him Gomer.”
Her chastising caused Joker to sleep fitfully that night. It bothered him enough that he found Slim at breakfast the next morning, pulled him aside, and apologized. All while Maria watched from a distance. Surprisingly, Slim broke out into a Gomer Pyle impersonation.
“Aw, shucks,” he said with a goofy grin and bob of his head.
“He’s a good dude,” Joker added, which was a major compliment coming from him. He normally referred to everyone who wasn’t a Marine as a shithead or some variation thereof.
Joker thought about Maria and their baby as he drove. Nobody ever thought they would be drawn together, especially him. He never thought he’d find love, especially after the world went to hell. When he first met Maria, he thought she was the most beautiful, saddest woman he’d ever met. He did not speak to her for several months, although he stole glances whenever he could.
It wasn’t until they had Terminator week. Terminator week was a dedication to all the Terminator movies, including the short-lived TV series. On opening night, he found himself sitting beside her. The conversation started with Joker explaining the storyline. The movie ended for the night. Maria and Joker found themselves sitting in the lounge, talking about everything. When the sun started peeking through the windows, Joker realized he’d fallen hard.
When Josue and Jorge found out about their relationship, they confronted Joker and interrogated him extensively. He remembered it well—both were armed and he had no doubt they’d kill him if they thought he had taken advantage of her. Jorge later told Joker they knew something was up because the day after movie night, Maria had been smiling all day and she had not smiled in a long time.
Her father and brother accepted the relationship and now Joker considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Trader Joe interrupted his thoughts.
“What’re you smiling about?” he asked.
“What?”
“You were smiling,” Trader Joe said.
“Oh, nothing,” Joker said and concentrated on the road.
The road crews had done sporadic work on I-81. It mostly consisted of moving derelict cars out of the way so one lane would be free and clear. Most of the larger potholes had been filled, but they only had a finite amount of asphalt and used most of it for the roadways to Fort Detrick and Marcus Hook. So, there were a lot of small to medium-sized potholes, not to mention the occasional obstruction. At one stretch, there were small cedar trees out of the cracks in the road. Joker surmised they were a couple of years old, and unless something was done, they’d be totally blocking the roadway within a couple of years.
Joker pondered it all while he drove. Sometimes, he wondered if it was all worth it. But then he thought of Maria and their child. He thought about many times in the past how he told anyone who’d listen how stupid it was to bring a child in this world, and now he was going to be a father.
Joker sighed. Now was as good a time as any, he thought. He stopped the SUV, parked it, and killed the engine.
“What’s going on?” Trader Joe asked.
“I received a FRAGORD about fifteen minutes before we left this morning,” he said.
“What’s a FRAGORD?” Little Joe asked.
“It’s a military term for adding something to the original OPORD,” Joker said, and then clarified. “That means Operations Order.”
Trader Joe groaned. “It was Zach and one of his ideas, am I right?”
Joker smiled and nodded. “Zach want us to recon the various exits along the I-81 corridor. He wants to set people up to live here.”
Trader Joe pursed his lips together for a moment. “This will add a few more days to the mission, correct?”
“Yes, it will. A couple of days,” Joker said.
Trader Joe thought a moment and then gave his thigh a slap. “We get first dibs on any procured goods. I must insist on it.”
“Fine by me,” Joker said. “We’re going to bypass Harrisonburg though. That place is a hell hole.”
The men agreed and began their reconnoitering where they had left off last month, at a community called the Tenth Legion. They confined their search to the areas around the exits. The first zeds they encountered was at a truck stop at exit 257. It was a group of five of them. Joker was debating on bypassing them when Little Joe opened fire. When they were all dead, Little Joe jumped out of the SUV and jogged over to them.
“Did you see that, Dad? They wouldn’t even separate themselves from each other when I started shooting.”
Joker and Trader Joe walked over and joined him.
“They look like truck drivers,” Little Joe said and pointed at the lone female in the group. “She’s dressed like a waitress and all the men were surrounding her, like they were protecting her. Is that a sign they’re fifteens?”
Father and son stared expectantly at Joker, who responded with a shrug. “Hell if I know,” he said. “Alright, let’s be mindful of our ammo count.”
They cleared the interior of the truck stop, searched it, marked it, and moved on down the road. They continued this throughout the day. During that time, they encountered no humans and less than a dozen zeds.
“Not many zeds and a lot of skeletons. They must be dying off,” Little Joe said.
Joker scoffed. “Don’t count on it.”
Chapter 6 – Zach and Fred
After the other teams were out of sight, Fred and I got back in the Stryker and headed out. We each sat in the open hatches, enjoying the morning sun as we rode.
“Any recent road reports?” Fred asked as I accelerated.
“When the Fitzgeralds came in from Marcus Hook, they reported one fallen tree and two zeds. They said they took care of all of it.”
“Good,” Fred said. “So, who decided on having a trial?”
“Ultimately, President Stark, but only after much discussion,” I said. “Roscoe called on the radio and asked for help. Since the incident, everyone has taken sides and there’s been a lot of arguments. The president called a special meeting and there was a consensus that a murder trial should be held.”
Fred gave a slight nod. “Having it at Weather instead of Hook is a good idea. More of a perception of fairness.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Fred was quiet for a moment, but his mood must have changed since breakfast and he felt like talking.
“What’s your take on this murder?” he asked.
“It’s hard to say. A teenage girl by the name of Hermione Fleming accused a man of rape. Her stepfather felt the need to defend her honor and stabbed him to death.”
“Did you say Hermione?” Fred asked.
“Yeah, like the character in the Harry Potter novels.” I glanced over at Fred. “Do you know who Harry Potter is?”
“Yep, my daughter loved that series,” he said.
I nodded thoughtfully. Fred’s daughter was in California when the outbreak came roaring in. He eventually went in search of her, onl
y to find her in her apartment, infected. I suspected he was the one who put her out of her misery, but he never spoke about it.
“So, anyway, there are rumors that she wasn’t raped, but that it was consensual.”
“But she said it was rape,” Fred said.
“Yeah, a few days later. Some believe she felt day-after regret.”
Fred nodded. Barely. “It’ll be an interesting trial.”
“We have discussed it at length. As you know, we’ve never had a trial of any significance and we’ve heard rumors that our government is nothing more than a lot of hot air and little substance.” I held off voicing my vehement disagreement with the sentiment. If it wasn’t for us, a lot of these knuckleheads who lived in and around Mount Weather would be dead.
“This trial should squash some of the complaints,” I surmised.
“Maybe,” Fred replied. “Stop the vehicle a minute and kill the engine.”
I did as he directed without question. I’d learned long ago Fred did not play around. If he told me to stop the vehicle, there was a valid reason for it.
We were on a flat stretch of road that ran straight for a hundred yards before there was a soft bend to the right. Fred pointed.
“I think I saw something,” he whispered.
As if on cue, a dozen zeds rounded the curve. They walked slowly, seemingly without purpose. I retrieved a pair of binoculars and looked them over.
“Thirteen,” I whispered. “Twelve of them are wearing military combat utilities. They’re ragged and rotten. Old looking but moving pretty good.”
“Let’s use the Marlin,” Fred said.
I smiled. The Marlin Bullpup was a 22-caliber rifle. That ammo we still had an abundance of. The problem for most people is you had to have a good aim to put down a zed with the small bullet. Sometimes it took two rounds to the center of the brain before they went down. But there were some who were respiring again; their heart was functioning, and they were breathing. A bullet to the heart could kill them.
Fred ducked down into the Stryker and emerged a moment later with the little rifle. He handed it to me.
“You first,” he said with a slight smirk and then gave a whistle, which resulted in the zeds break into an ambling gait toward us.
I accepted his challenge and took careful aim at the closest one. I shot five before they seemed to figure out what was happening. The remaining eight zeds all began running in different directions. I was able to kill one more before their scattering required us to move closer. I handed off the rifle to Fred and started the engine. Fred began shooting as I drove. My marksmanship skills were superb, but they were still no match for Fred. He was making headshots from a moving vehicle on zeds who ran in loping, bobbing motions.
By the time I brought the Stryker within a few feet of them, Fred had finished them off. I killed the engine again and we sat there, letting our hearing adjust to the silence. Satisfied there were no other zeds lurking around, we exited the Stryker and walked over to the corpses. A kick to the head ensured they were dead before we began a closer inspection.
“That shoulder patch is the Tenth Mountain Division,” Fred said.
I thought a moment. “Tenth Mountain, that’s Fort Drum, New York.”
“Quite a way from here,” Fred remarked. “How far north have we explored?”
“Binghamton,” I said. “The winters have FUBAR’ed the roads and despite the cold, there are still zeds everywhere. If they’ve traveled this far south, it’s conceivable the food sources are depleted.”
I pointed toward a few of the ones in uniform.
“Their boots are worn down to the soles. I suppose it’s possible they walked all the way from New York,” I said. “I’ll prepare a report for the next staff meeting. Perhaps it’s time to send some missions north before winter.”
“Mmhmm,” Fred replied.
We looked them over a few more minutes, and I drew a vial of blood from the freshest looking zed before we got moving again. Fred took the opportunity to run a cleaning rod through the bore of the Marlin and wipe down the action before reloading and storing it away.
“How are things at the Ponderosa?” I asked.
He had recently found a farm a couple of miles from Mount Weather tucked in a dead-end street looking out over a scenic valley. It already had a decent horse barn and the place only needed some tender loving care to be once again habitable. He spent all his spare time during the winter renovating the small house and moved in a month ago. Much to his chagrin, Rachel decided he should not be alone and moved in with him.
“Aisha gave birth yesterday. I should be back there keeping an eye on her and her baby,” he said. Aisha was Fred’s favorite horse. She was a beautiful Arabian and he spoiled her.
“We’re only going to be gone a day, at the most,” I said. “Besides, Rachel has become pretty adept with horses, right?”
Fred gave a reluctant grunt, which I took to mean he wholeheartedly agreed.
“How are the two of you getting along?” I asked.
“The girl is insatiable,” he said.
I glanced over at him in confusion. “How do you mean?”
Fred grunted. “You know what I mean.”
I chuckled. “You old dog. She keeps you going, huh?”
Fred scowled and stared straight ahead. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Alright, what do you want to talk about?”
“Give me more details of the case.”
“Okay, you met Clay Fleming back when we were doing the road maintenance.”
“Back in April,” Fred said.
“Yeah.”
“He’s a hard worker, seemed a little hot-headed to some of the younger people.”
“Yeah, he was. I suppose he was staying on them to keep them working. Anyway, there was apparently a secret party one night. Only a few people went to it; four men and four women. You get the idea, a little music, a little alcohol, a little weed, and soon they paired off.”
“Hermione was part of all this, I take it?” Fred surmised.
“Yeah. She paired off with Dalton Pentecost.”
“I remember him,” Fred said. “He seemed like a decent young man. Tell me about him.”
“He was twenty-one; thirteen when it went bad. He hunkered down in his school along with some schoolmates and their science teacher. They made a go of it for over a year before Johnny G found them. Out of a dozen of them, only a few of them survived.”
“Sounds like he had some grit to him,” Fred remarked.
“Yeah, he did.”
“Alright, tell me about Hermione.”
“Hermione is apparently one of those girls who is fifteen going on twenty-one, if you know what I mean. Kind of cute, overly developed for a fifteen year old.”
“He’s twenty-one and she’s fifteen,” Fred said.
“Yep.”
“She’s still a kid. When they paired off together, was it consensual?” he asked.
I nodded. “That’s what the witnesses are saying. They left the party together and went back to Dalton’s place. That’s the last anyone saw of them until breakfast the next morning.”
I waited to see if Fred had any questions before continuing.
“A few days go by and Hermione confides in a friend that Dalton lured her to his room and raped her. Well, as you know, there are no secrets in these small communities and soon word got around and everyone was talking about it.
“When her stepfather, Clay, found out, he confronted Dalton. An argument ensued and Clay stabbed him. The knife went under the sternum and into his heart. He bled out in seconds.”
“Any eyewitnesses?” Fred asked.
“Only Hermione,” I said. “So, that’s the gist of the case. Clay is claiming self-defense, but he wasn’t injured, and Dalton didn’t have a weapon on him.”
Fred’s only response was a slight grunt. We rode in silence for a couple of miles before Fred spoke again.
“What did you mean by fifteen
going on twenty-one?”
“According to Johnny G, she’s quite the flirt. He said that since the weather has warmed up, you can usually find her walking around wearing short shorts and a skimpy shirt without a bra.”
“Do you think it’s a fake allegation?” Fred asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like we’re operating under Sharia law; if a girl wants to wear short shorts or she’s decided she doesn’t like bras, I guess that’s her choice. The big issue here is whether or not Clay took the law into his own hands.”
“Some folks might say he did the right thing,” Fred remarked.
I glanced over at Fred. He was staring out of the passenger window at something. I thought back to his daughter. I can only imagine how he would have reacted if she came to him one day and told him she’d been raped.
“Yeah, I suppose. It might boil down to whether people believe it was rape or a consensual act. I’m glad I won’t be on the jury,” I said and then changed the subject. “When we get there, we’re going to gas up, get Clay, and get going, unless you have something else in mind.”
“Sounds good to me,” Fred said. “I need to get back to my horses.”
“Yeah, and Rachel,” I said. I grinned and glanced over at Fred. He merely grunted in response.
“How many people are living there now?” he asked.
“Forty-two. Well, make that forty-one. They recently added a dozen people who had been trying to make a go of it from Carney’s Point. According to Roscoe, with the extra manpower, they’ve been able to increase production by eight percent.”
“And they have the means to store it all?” he asked.
“Absolutely. They have those big above-ground storage silos, over thirty of them. Currently, only two of them are completely full.”
“What about their crops and cattle?”
My brow furrowed. “Do you recall seeing that big Fed-Ex facility?”
Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens Page 3
