Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That?

by Achord, David

  Chapter 19 – The Scratched Label

  The room was dark, with only a hint of light coming from the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. Riley could see his outline in the dark. He was several years older than her, but she liked him anyway. He was smart, and his body was lean and taut, but most of all, there was something about him that attracted her to him. His aura or bearing, or something.

  He was not a talkative kind of guy. There was an aloofness about him, and she wondered if he’d always been that way or if the apocalypse had made him like that. She’d heard that he’d survived the apocalypse on his own for a while before showing up at Marcus Hook one day, but he never talked about it. Even his name was odd.

  “How would they know?” she asked.

  “You know them as well as anyone,” Johnny G said. “They come across as big dumb oafs, but it’s an act. They’re clever, intuitive, and can read people. I bet they were damn good cops back in Pittsburgh.”

  Riley stroked his chest. “But you’re smarter.”

  “Well thanks, but I’m not that smart. I have no idea what they’ll do next. It would be nice to know what they’re thinking. If they figure it out, what do you think they’ll do?”

  “I guess I’m not sure either. I can try talking to Logan,” she suggested.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He may suspect you’re trying to get information out of him or manipulate him. Besides, I think you still make him a little insecure.”

  He was referring to that time where she and Logan had almost had sex, but things went awry. The memory made her laugh.

  “Yeah, probably so, on both counts. So, what should I do?”

  “Act normal. Like nothing is wrong. Tell your father and brother to do the same,” he said. “I’ve got my listening ears on and if something happens, if they make accusations, I’ll hear about it.”

  She thought about it for a moment before responding. “Okay. I’m putting a lot of trust in you. You know, I can always move out of here and live at our trading post.”

  “How is it progressing?” he asked.

  “We found some solar panels but we’re not real sure how to hook them up. Dad says we need at least one power inverter, whatever that is.”

  Riley had worked her way halfway on top of him and he felt himself becoming aroused again.

  “I’ll have a look at our inventory and see what we have. I suppose I could go down there with you, look it over and see what you guys need,” he said.

  “Really? Can we drive down there tomorrow?”

  Johnny G thought a moment. Everything he had planned for tomorrow were not high priority issues and could be done later. “Sure, I suppose so.”

  “We’re going to need some diesel too,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’ll be doable.”

  Riley kissed him. “I’m already excited. We can stay a night or two. Just the two of us. It’ll be like a romantic getaway.”

  He chuckled. She reached down and started stroking him. After a moment she threw a leg over and straddled him. He lay there and let her do all the work. The woman was ravenous and full of energy. She orgasmed twice before he felt himself reach climax. She continued gyrating, but he’d had enough for the night and pulled her down. She huffed but didn’t complain and gave him a passionate kiss before getting out of the bed. Johnny G looked at her questioningly.

  “Are you spending the night?” he asked.

  “Not tonight. I need to tell dad what we’re going to do. Don’t worry, he’ll love it that you’re going to help.”

  She got out of bed and went into the restroom. Johnny G listened to the water running, and after a minute she came back into the bedroom and gathered her clothes. He watched her dress in the dim light. She had a lean, fantastic body. Her breasts were smaller than he preferred, he’d preferred D-cups or larger ever since puberty, but Riley was by far the best-looking woman at Marcus Hook. But, and he wasn’t sure if this was a good but or a bad but, there was also a hint that she was a little bit off-center. The way she looked at a person with those feral eyes could be unsettling and Johnny G knew she had the capability of being a cold-blooded killer. He wondered how many she’d killed and at what age she killed her first human. He was tempted to ask. Maybe later.

  She finished dressing, leaned down, and kissed him again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can leave after breakfast if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She cracked the door open slightly, peered down the hallway, and slipped out, softly closing the door behind her. Johnny G lay in the darkness, exhausted but not yet sleepy enough to close his eyes.

  He had no doubt Riley’s sudden attraction toward him was filled with ulterior motives. Why else would a younger woman want to sleep with him? He knew he was average looking, nothing special. It served him well at his former employment. He was so average looking he could blend into crowds and nobody remembered him. He was physically fit, but not a big, muscular man. That worked to his advantage too, he was always underestimated. He was stronger than he looked, but his real strength was in his intelligence.

  He let it happen. They had hooked up the first night she had come back to Marcus Hook to live. There was the usual socializing after dinner. The Fitzgeralds had brought supplies from Mount Weather, including a few five-gallon jugs of homemade wine. And the marijuana. There was a lot of marijuana use. Too many people relied on it to self-medicate, which he supposed was better than the dozens of antidepressants people were addicted to, back before.

  Johnny G hated marijuana and was not much of a wine drinker. Back before, he preferred single malt Scotch or Finnish vodka. The more expensive the better. Tonight, he was sitting off to himself, sipping a glass of tomato juice spiced with a generous amount of black pepper, irritated at the amount of smoke in the air. He considered refreshing his drink and going to his room when Riley walked over, carrying a backpack.

  “You want some company?” she had asked.

  “Sure,” he replied without too much enthusiasm.

  If she noticed his reticence, she didn’t act like it. She put the backpack on the floor under the table and pulled out a bottle of Ketel One vodka before sitting. “I’ve heard it goes pretty good with tomato juice.”

  Johnny G stared at the bottle with its distinctive diagonal scratch on the label. It was almost half full. It was full and still had the seal intact when he gave it to Rochelle VanAllen as a victory present after the election. He didn’t want to. The fact was, he didn’t like her. She was a big talker who never seemed to be around when the work crews were formed. But, as Roscoe pointed out, she was the new president and they needed to play the political game. Riley saw him pointedly staring at the bottle, perhaps sensing what he was thinking.

  “Dad said you have a lot in common with us. Is he wrong?”

  Johnny G stared a moment longer before grabbing the bottle and poured a liberal amount into his glass of tomato juice. It would have been nice to have some tabasco sauce to add to it, but he hadn’t any of that in years. He held the glass up in a mock toast.

  “He’s not wrong,” Johnny G replied.

  They ended up in bed after the bottle went dry.

  That was only a week ago. He thought of that night often. Did Trader Joe direct his daughter to seduce him, or was it solely her idea? He didn’t know, and eventually he decided he didn’t care. The sex was great, and she was a pleasant conversationalist, even if she did have a rather peculiar perspective of how life should be.

  When the president was reported missing, he sent Jimbo and a couple of others to look for them. They’d driven thirty miles out and back with no success. Their deaths were not made official until two days later, but Johnny G knew that night what their fate was, and he knew the Fitzgeralds were responsible.

  He was undecided about what to do with this knowledge. There were pros and cons on either side, and he debated each point to himself. After much consideration, he decided to keep quiet for the time being.
Before doing anything, he was going to check out this trading post they were talking about.

  Chapter 20 – Melvin and True

  It was cold. Within the last hour the temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. The two men, crouching back in the shadows of the old business, spoke in whispers.

  “The wind is picking up,” True whispered. “Another front is moving in I’m thinking.”

  “Yeah,” Melvin whispered back.

  He knew what True was inferring. If more snow was coming, travelling back home was going to be difficult. He pulled his shemagh scarf tighter around his neck and face. They did not dare risk a fire. Especially not now.

  They had left Mount Weather, after devising a mission plan. They were going to take the normal route to Louisiana, but rather than travelling the entire route, they were going to pick a spot to intercept these interlopers, if they were indeed heading east. They settled on Cincinnati.

  Why Cincinnati? According to Clay’s report, the alleged soldiers had disembarked from a paddle boat on the east side of the Mississippi River and had headed east on foot. Melvin and True figured they’d walk anywhere from ten to twelve miles a day. Cincinnati was a good intercept point. It was five hundred miles from Mount Weather, which was feasible for the men if they hauled one of their fuel trailers with them.

  The Melvin and True team arrived in the city a little over thirteen hours after leaving Mount Weather. The blanket of snow hid the numerous potholes, which forced them to drive slowly, but the snow was also an excellent indicator of any traffic, whether it was animal, vehicle, human, or zed. They spotted a lot of animal tracks but little else until they reached the outskirts of Columbus. That is when they began seeing multiple footprints. The nature of the tracks indicated zeds rather than humans. A rough estimate put them in the dozens.

  But they did not see them.

  “They’re hiding good,” True remarked. Melvin agreed and speculated that these new zeds were clever enough to hide from humans until they decided to attack. He reminded himself to notate that observation in the mission report.

  It was dark when they arrived in Columbus and they decided to stop for the night. They found a used car lot on National Pike with several vehicles still in the lot. The two men checked the area and, finding it clear of any hostiles, parked the truck amongst some other vehicles and bedded down in the office. Their sleep was not interrupted, and they were back on the road as the sun was coming up.

  They’d been in Cincinnati for a couple of days. They did the usual things survivors in post-apocalyptic America did; they scavenged, hunted for food, avoided the zeds when they could, and killed them when they couldn’t. With knives preferably, to save on ammo.

  On the fifth day they were in the Bellevue neighborhood. They had not found much, small stuff, but nothing major, with one exception. They found an unopened case of toilet paper in a storage area above the women’s restroom at a convenience store on Greenup Street. The men only spoke out loud when they were inside their truck.

  “If they’re still coming this way, this’ll be the day they should show up,” True said. “Depending on how fast or slow they’re travelling.”

  “Yeah, ten to twelve miles a day. I doubt they could walk any faster and I haven’t seen any wild horses they could ride,” Melvin said.

  “Do they have horses in China?” True asked.

  “Yes, they do,” Melvin replied. “I suppose they could’ve found some horses to ride.”

  “Doubtful though.”

  “Yeah, doubtful. Let’s unhook the fuel trailer and ride the route,” Melvin suggested.

  They put the fuel trailer in between two dumpsters behind a restaurant, but situated where they could hook it up quickly, if needed. As an afterthought, Melvin topped off the tank to the truck before they left. The discovery of the toilet paper had them in high spirits, but after two hours, they were growing frustrated.

  “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Melvin grumbled.

  “Like searching for a black man at a Klan rally,” True countered.

  Melvin chuckled. “Like searching for a black man in a coal mine.”

  True chuckled now. “Good one. You think we really going to spot ‘em?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. They’re somewhere around here. The question is, where? At least we got some halfway decent scavenging in.”

  “We still going to wait two more days?” True asked, although he already knew the answer. They had already decided to stay a full week and if there was no contact, they’d head back. Although they’d killed a couple of rabbits to supplement their rations, they did not have enough food to sustain them longer.

  “Yeah, we might rethink that one. I think – wait a minute,” Melvin said.

  He stopped the truck and killed the engine. Squinting out the window, he stuck a finger out in front of him. “Tell me what I’m seeing. Is that smoke or what?”

  True stared out. “Smoke,” he said after a moment.

  Melvin turned off a side street, turned it around so it was pointed in the direction that it needed to be in case they needed to make a hasty escape and parked it. Without having to talk it out, the men loaded up their rucksacks, checked their weapons, and began tactically walking toward the smoke. After walking two miles, they’d pinpointed the source of the smoke to a hotel that was located near I-70 at exit 66.

  There were a dozen people milling around four trash cans that had fire in them. As they watched, two men smashed up a coffee table and added the broken wood to the cans, adding to the fire and the smoke.

  “I think we found them,” Melvin whispered.

  Their facial features indicated they were Asian. They were all wearing similar uniforms with a mottled gray pattern and they were all armed with Chinese assault rifles commonly known as type Ninety-Fives.

  After watching them for five minutes, Melvin and True moved backward in a crouching duck walk until they had maneuvered behind a building. They walked into a recess that was dark and sat. True rubbed his knees while Melvin stared out. He pointed ambiguously and whispered.

  “There’s a convenience store across the road and down a little bit. It’s a good distance away but it has a good line of sight to the hotel. If we get in there, we can watch them from a safe distance, maybe get an idea of what they’re doing.”

  They agreed and waited until dusk before moving to the back of the convenience store. Thankfully, the back door was already standing open. They silently entered with their knives drawn, cleared it of the possibility of any zeds hiding inside.

  With the exception of some barren counters that used to hold merchandise, the place was empty. There was little vandalism, the tempered glass of the front windows was shattered, and the years of neglect caused the place to accumulate grime and maybe a few rodents had lived there at one time, but otherwise there was nothing.

  Melvin gave True a nod and they surreptitiously set up their observation post. They’d put down some old blankets on the floor behind a counter, deep in the shadows, several feet away from the window opening. True got the binoculars and scanned them over.

  “They’re rough looking, and they ain’t too disciplined,” he said.

  “Yeah, and they’re gaunt. They haven’t been eating too well. Kind of makes you wonder what the hell they’re doing here,” Melvin whispered back. “Think of how far they’ve travelled just to get here and how much further they’re supposed to go to reach their objective. What the hell is their mission?”

  True had no answers for his friend. So, he remained silent. They watched the soldiers well into the night. Several of them had little pots they held over the fires with pieces of pipe and cooked their rice. They did not observe any other kind of food product, which probably explained why they looked so gaunt. Melvin knew better than to underestimate them though. He had once read a book that was all about Dien Bien Phu. It memorialized how an underfed, bedraggled force of Viet Minh revolutionaries had decimated a French unit of hardened s
oldiers. Soon, there were only four of them standing guard.

  “I’m a little puzzled as to why they’re outside. If they were inside, they’d be better protected.”

  “Sorry leadership or they’re being punished,” Melvin surmised. “Most of them are inside.”

  “Yeah, maybe. They don’t sense nothing’s wrong. They ain’t paranoid like us,” True remarked.

  “Poor leadership maybe, but we shouldn’t underestimate them,” Melvin whispered back. “They have a mission, and it isn’t good.”

  “An exploration mission maybe,” True whispered. “I…”

  He did not finish his sentence. As they watched, several apparitions emerged from the dark and attacked the four guards. It lasted for maybe ten seconds, and then the zeds ran off, disappearing into the darkness almost as quickly as they had attacked. Three of the guards had been knocked off their feet, the other had been pushed up against the wall. Even with the binoculars, they were too far away to see any injuries. Melvin said as much.