“Intermixed with these zeds were several hundred other zeds who appeared to be average infected American humans. During Mister McCoy’s recon mission, he stated he observed several hundred zeds massing together and heading west. So, we had a horde from the west and a horde from the east who converged on Mount Weather. I have no explanation for this behavior.”
The First Sergeant paused and waited to see if anyone cared to add an opinion. When there was none, he continued.
“As a result of the attack, four of our people were killed. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but you all deserve to know the truth. The four of them were relaxing in the party barn and perhaps imbibing in adult substances. Apparently, something caused them to go outside. Perhaps they heard the gunfire from the guard posts and went to investigate. Unfortunately, none of them were armed. The zeds had themselves a nice meal. Their remains were found close to the party barn, which indicated they were immediately attacked.”
He paused again, hoping this would sink in and it would be a good learning lesson.
“Trucker Troy was one of our decedents, but he was not killed by zeds. He was found inside the TOC with a gunshot wound that eventually killed him. Priss spoke to him before he died, and he identified Gil VanAllen as the person who shot him. Priss and Flash then made entry into the armory and found the president. He was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The O’Malley brothers conducted an independent investigation and confirmed this.”
A hand raised in the back. “Yes?”
“The TOC armory was locked, isn’t that right, First Sergeant?”
“Yes, it was. Zach provided Priss with a master key so she and Flash could make entry. Now, I want to say something. There are a couple of you idiots who are trying to start a rumor that Zach Gunderson opened the armory door and shot VanAllen in cold blood. Let me reiterate, Trucker Troy identified VanAllen as his assailant to Priss. Priss and Flash then made entry into the armory and found VanAllen. Zach stood by outside because he knew somebody would try to twist the facts around.
“If anyone disagrees, feel free to conduct your own investigation, but if I were you, I’d be mighty careful before you go accusing Zach of murder. He saved our asses, and I for one am grateful I did not die down there in that bunker. You go around spouting off nonsense, if Zach doesn’t put a dent in your nose, I will.”
A lot of people loudly agreed with the sentiment. The meeting carried on for another hour. Several items were discussed, resolved, or tabled for a later time. Among one item that was agreed to was to have a mass funeral service for their five friends, but without Gil VanAllen. He was unceremoniously cremated, and his ashes were buried apart from the others.
Zach had not attended the meeting. He already knew most of what was going to be discussed. Besides, he had someone else he wanted to talk to. He found Fred working on a horse. Sammy and a woman close to his age watched. They looked over when Zach walked in. Sammy grinned; the woman stared. The horse recognized Zach and nickered when he walked up.
“What’s wrong with him?” Zach asked.
“He picked up a nail in his front hoof,” Sammy said. “Fred’s giving us some doctoring lessons.”
“Fred’s a good teacher,” Zach said. “I’ve learned a hell of a lot from him.” Zach focused on Nikki. “I’ve met you before. Nikki, right?”
“Yeah, we have, sort of. I’m Nikki,” she answered.
“I remember now. You live in the Shenandoah Park community,” Zach said. “How are they doing?”
“They’re okay, but I’m going to move here. Fred’s offered me a job of sorts.”
“Fred’s going to mentor her,” Sammy said.
“Rachel is going to need help once she gives birth,” Fred added.
Zach nodded. “When I first met Fred, I was a know-it-all kid.” He glanced at Fred and smiled. “Julie was too, I guess. He took us under his wing. I learned a lot from him and consider him a friend.”
Nikki stared at Zach and then at Fred. “I’ve heard you two have been through a lot.”
“Yes, we have,” Zach said.
“Are you moving back home?” Sammy asked.
“Yeah, are you?” Fred asked.
Zach sighed before he could help himself. “I guess I’ll need to discuss it with Kelly.”
“Do you want to?” Sammy asked.
“Yes, I do,” he said after a moment.
Journal Entry – January 1st, 10 A.Z.
I am currently in the back of one of our specialized vans, leaving Mount Weather. I haven’t had much sleep these past few days and although I’m fatigued, I’m a little too antsy to sleep, so I thought I’d catch up on an entry.
The months of November and December have been, what’s a good word - tumultuous? Bizarre? Surreal? I’m not sure which would be the best descriptor. Perhaps there is a more appropriate word to use that isn’t in my vocabulary. The best I can do is try to summarize the events of the last two months and let you decide how to define it.
As I mentioned in the last journal entry, an election was held in November. Abe Stark lost; Rochelle VanAllen won. Because of this, I packed up my family and we secretly relocated to Oak Ridge, Tennessee. We were welcomed with open arms and I got to see firsthand how much of an advanced operation they had. The scientists treated every problem like a wonderful opportunity to create an experiment. They had made several remarkable achievements, and even though I was only there a short time, I have learned a lot from them in only two months of living there. I am going to need to dedicate an entire journal entry detailing everything about them. I’ll do that later.
Next in this journal entry will be, in no particular order of importance, the documentation of multiple mysteries that are currently active at Mount Weather.
Shortly after arriving at Oak Ridge, I began having dreams. It was one dream, but I kept having it over and over. It was of Patient Eve. She was standing in front of the main entrance to Fort Detrick, staring at me with those odd-looking eyes of hers. She’d then look over her shoulder, turn to face me again and then rasp out my name. I understood by the time I had the dream for the third time. I was to go to Fort Detrick. She was there, with her zed friends, waiting on me. I knew what she wanted. She wanted the place, and the labs. My intuition tells me she wants the labs to find a cure, but I’m uncertain how she is going to accomplish that. What is she up to? She obviously controls those zeds, but how many are there under her control?
Gilbert VanAllen. What the hell happened to the man? I never liked Rochelle, but I had considered him to be a likeable and hardworking fellow, but when Rochelle was murdered, something changed in him. In only a short time, his behavior became more and more erratic, especially toward me. He had convinced himself I was the murderer and even had me tried in absentia. His behavior ultimately caused his ouster from office, but he was not done. The night after his ouster, he sabotaged Mount Weather and attempted to destroy everyone in it. All explanations for his actions died when he killed himself.
In continuation of Gilbert VanAllen, when he was implementing his sabotage actions, a horde of zeds attacked the compound. How did this happen? Was it a coincidence or did they somehow know about Gil and what he planned to do? Why did Gil say his dreams were coming true? He had to believe things were going his way, and yet he killed himself. Why?
Who killed Rochelle VanAllen and the three women with her? Despite some people’s beliefs, I had nothing to do with it. I asked Fred if he knew, he found the bodies after all, but all he would say is that it wasn’t him. The O’Malley brothers are still actively investigating the crime, but so far, they are reluctant to name any possible suspects. I do know the Fitzgeralds were the only known people who were on the road at the same time. Is it merely a coincidence or were they somehow involved? They have denied it, but if they are in fact the murder suspects, why did they do it?
The Chinese. Why are they on American soil and what is their mission? How could they amass enough people and resources to
make the trek to America? Are there more out there? Are there people from other nations who are currently on American soil?
Speaking of the Chinese, many of the zeds who attacked Mount Weather were the Chinese soldiers that were originally spotted by Clay Fleming in Missouri. Was there something left over in their memories that compelled them to walk all the way to Mount Weather and attack it? Were they somehow in communication with Eve?
And finally, Eve. Previously known as Patient Eve. She and her fellow zeds are now living at Fort Detrick. I know why she wanted to have Fort Detrick; for the usage of the labs. The question is, why? Is there a zed in her group who was a scientist and has retained enough of their memory to utilize the labs? It has been suggested to me that I go up there and try to find out. I’ll get back to this in a minute.
Back to the current events at Mount Weather. After the funerals were conducted, William Rhinehart was to be inaugurated, but the most bizarre thing happened. He died of a heart attack before he could solemnly swear. As one might imagine, this led to a lot of problems and prevented me from leaving Mount Weather and going back to my family.
After much debate, which became spirited at times, it was decided to hold an open election. The normal procedural process to be eligible was waived and one simply declared themselves a candidate. Many people threw their name out there and began fervently politicking. The ballot boxes were collected and officially counted at nineteen hundred hours on New Year’s Eve. A team of ten of us, including yours truly, conducted the counting.
When the ballots were tallied, Robert Clark Duckworth Junior was the winner by a large margin. I was happy for the man and happy for Mount Weather. I think he’ll make a good president. He asked me to move back to Mount Weather and resume my role as Director of Operations. I am at odds with myself on this matter. I miss Mount Weather but am uncertain if this is the best thing for me.
I will close this journal with one final issue. Last night, after the post-election festivities, I slept in my suite, the one I lived in with my wife and kids. I thought I would dream of them. Instead, I dreamt of Eve. She was standing with her back to me, staring at a rusty steel plate that had been welded to a door. And then she would turn her head and stare back at me. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place the location. It wasn’t until breakfast this morning that someone mentioned the steel plates that had been welded to the entry doors of the labs that I realized what I saw.
I know what she was trying to communicate to me - access to the labs. I still don’t know how she is able to communicate to me through my dreams. I don’t know a lot of things, but I’ve made a decision.
My team and I will be arriving at Fort Detrick in about ten minutes. Captain Smithson told me where the plasma torch is located, and I will be cutting the steel plates off the lab doors. Yes, I will be doing this for Eve.
The history books will decide if this is an appropriate act or if I’ve gone as crazy as Gil VanAllen.
Who the Hell is That? (Part 3)
“I’m telling you, if we can get them alone, we could do all kinds of nasty stuff to them,” Tory said to his brother.
“They sure didn’t hesitate to shoot us down earlier,” Tory grumbled. “If we can ever get them alone, they’re going to pay for that. We’ll probably have to kill them after, but I’m good with that.”
He was referring to a couple of women they’d attempted to hook up with. They’d driven to Mount Weather yesterday, hung around for no reason, loafed most of the day, and spent all night in the party barn drinking and smoking. They were driving home now, hungover, and bereft of their cherished smoke.
Trey agreed. “They smoked all our weed and then told us to piss off. That’s bullshit. I’ve gone too long without a piece of tail.”
“We’ll catch them out soon. Spring’s coming, people like to get out and wander. If we play our cards right and keep an eye on them, we’ll catch them out alone. In the meantime, I guess it’s another night with Rosie Palm,” Tory said.
“You know what I think? I think maybe we should go back and pay another visit to that little stink hole at the Shenandoah community.”
Tory chuckled. “I like the sound of that. We’ll probably have to snatch her this time.”
“No problem,” Trey said. “If there’s any problems, we’ll just kill her after and dump her in the river. Everyone will think zeds got her.”
“I’ve been wanting to try something I saw in a movie. Maybe we can do it with her.”
“What’s that?” Trey asked.
“The death by a thousand cuts torture. I’d like to try that on someone,” Tory said.
“Oh yeah? What would you cut first?”
“The titties!”
Both men erupted into raucous laughter. Suddenly, there was a sudden loud popping noise followed by the Jeep swerving wildly. Trey almost lost control but managed to bring the vehicle to a stop before crashing.
“What the hell happened?” Tory asked.
“I think we had a blowout. We better check it out.”
Trey put the vehicle in park and killed the engine. The two men got out of the Jeep and looked around. Deciding there were no threats, they walked around the vehicle, stopping at the front passenger tire. It was mangled. Tory crouched and inspected it closely.
“There’s a few chunks of metal shards sticking out,” he exclaimed and looked back down the roadway. “I think I see something.” He pointed and walked back up the road several yards. “Look, there’s more.”
There were several more pieces of jagged metal strewn in the roadway. He knelt and picked one of them up. “Look, they’re all painted black to blend in with the asphalt. Almost like someone set them out in the road on purpose.”
“That’s bullshit, man,” Trey growled. “If I catch who did this, I’m going to take a knife to them. A thousand cuts, man. A thousand cuts.”
“Yeah, we’ll figure out who did it, but for now let’s get the tire changed and head home,” Tory said. “I’m pretty sure there’s a jack and a spare in the back.”
Trey watched his brother try to slide a jack under the Jeep and then made a leisure scan of the area. He wasn’t on any kind of heightened alert because there’d been no zeds in the area since the attack back in December. So, when he saw a lone figure standing in the road fifty yards away, he inhaled sharply, loud enough that Tory heard him. He stopped jacking the car up and stood.
“What is it; zeds?” he asked as he looked in the direction that Trey was staring. He squinted at the figure. “Who the hell is that?”
The man was wearing a long jacket called a duster and a cowboy hat that was pulled low on his head. It prevented the two brothers from seeing in his face. The man stood like a statue, unmoving and silent. The two brothers swapped a glance.
“Is that Fred McCoy?” Trey whispered in puzzlement. “That looks like Fred McCoy.”
“Yeah, it does,” Tory replied. “Fred! Is that you?” he yelled.
The man raised his head, revealing his face. It was indeed Fred McCoy. Tory absently rubbed his face in concern as Fred began walking toward them.
“What’s he doing out here?” Tory whispered.
The brothers glanced at each other again. This time, the worry was plain in their expressions. Neither man made the connection between the metal shrapnel in the road and Fred’s sudden appearance, but they were worried all the same. Tory pulled his handgun out of his waistband. It was a Sig-Sauer P320. His brother did the same. He was carrying the same brand of handgun, only a model P365, both chambered in 9mm. They spread apart and watched as he walked in a slow but deliberate gait. When he was within fifty feet, he stopped.
“Hello, boys,” he greeted.
“Yeah, hello, Fred,” Trey replied. “What are you doing out here?”
“Oh, I’ve been doing a little walking and a little thinking,” Fred replied.
Tory leaned close to his brother. “I think the old fart has finally lost his marbles,” he whispered and then spoke up. “Ye
ah? What’ve you been thinking about?”
“Well, I’m glad I’ve run into you boys. I have a problem, and maybe you two can help me out,” Fred said.
Those two sentences amounted to more words than Fred had said to the Freitag brothers in a long time. If they were as smart as they believed they were, they would have recognized the red flag, but they were oblivious.
“Yeah, what’s that, old man?” Trey said. “You can’t get it up anymore, so you need us to service that little filly you’re hooked up with?”
This elicited a chortle from Tory.
Fred stared a moment and then even grinned. Another red flag. A big bright one. One that would glow in the dark.
“No, son, it’s much worse than that. You see, lately my shooting skills appear to have languished. Y’all know what that word means, right?”
Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That? Page 34
