by Ben Reeder
“Oh, this is going to be interesting,” I said softly. “This road goes over a major highway, doesn’t it?” I asked Mark.
“Yeah, US 35,” he said. Beside me, Vasquez groaned.
“We’re going to have to be very quiet going over that bridge,” I said. “Stealth is our only advantage right now.” As I said that, another sound intruded on the moment, one I hadn’t heard in a long time: the sound of men running in armor. Not the subdued clatter and clomp of a man in full battle rattle, but the layered tap-clink of overlapping metal plates over chainmail. I watched in disbelief as a group of ten armored men came pounding through the intersection in front of us, each of them holding a steady pace, with two pulling a handcart behind them, and four ahead and behind. We watched them cross in front of us, none of us saying a word until they had crossed the intersection.
“You were saying?” Hernandez said. From around the corner, we could hear one of them calling out orders in a clear voice.
“It’s a theory that still has a few kinks in it,” I said. Before she could reply, we heard grunting and the sound of feet on pavement, and a group of ghouls sprinted across the intersection.
“Suppressor,” Hernandez said as she brought her own P90 up. I drew the SOCOM and tried to get the suppressor screwed on as I ran behind her.
“Watch our backs and don’t shoot!” I called out over my shoulder as we headed for the corner. As we hit the turn, I could see the first ghoul on top of one of the armored men, clawing at his neck, trying to get its teeth to bare flesh. The ghoul was in leather pants and jacket, and two ghouls in business suits were behind it on either side. They went down at the same time as the men on either side of their downed comrade slammed poleaxes into the skulls of their attackers. With all of their attention focused on the group of men in front of them, they never heard us coming up behind them. I went left and Hernandez followed suit. As soon as I had a clear shot on a ghoul, I brought the SOCOM up and stroked the trigger. Its head disappeared in a crimson spray. Hernandez shoved me forward until we are almost on the flank of the infected. Then she opened fire and I saw what she had in mind. Firing in short bursts, she hit the ghouls center mass, dropping them in twos and threes as she worked her way across their ranks, starting with those closest to us and the other men and going away from both, always making sure her line of fire never crossed where one of the living stood. A ghoul in a shredded dress turned toward her from near the front of the group. With her attention on the back of their ranks, there was no way she could see her, and she was also standing right between the armored men and my position.
I dropped to one knee, brought my pistol up in a two handed grip and let her come. When she was about ten feet away, I fired. The round caught her in the chest and knocked her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling. A bald, heavily tattooed ghoul on my right turned its attention toward us, and I pivoted to fire a snap shot off. The one behind it dropped as it turned my way. I corrected my aim and dropped it with a shot to the sternum. I turned my attention to another one that seemed to have figured out that there were people behind it, but as it turned to face me, a sword smashed through the top of its cranium, and forty-eight inches of steel was the last thing that went through its mind. From my right, Hernandez’s gun gave a final bark, and the last ghoul hit the ground.
I looked around, but I didn’t see any more infected. What I did see were seven pistols aimed at us. I got to my feet, I put my finger outside the trigger guard, and lowered the SOCOM so I wasn’t pointing it at anyone. The man who had fallen was being helped to his feet by a large man in a chain coif. All of them wore chain mail with metal plates on their arms and legs, as well as a metal gorget and paldrons. Each of them held a sword, poleaxe, or a spear in their off hand in addition to the pistols they had pointed at us. Hernandez lowered her P90 and stepped forward.
“Gentlemen, I’m Corporal Ann Hernandez,” she said, making me realize I hadn’t known her first name for the past two days.
“Jason Robertson,” the man wearing the coif said as he turned to face us. “Not that we’re not grateful for the help, but do you mind if I ask what you’re about?” Hernandez glanced my way, but I was too busy staring at the spokesman. He was a few years older, but I’d spent too much time on the SCA battlefield with the man in front of me to forget his face. We’d fought both with and against each other during the annual Estrella War, one of the big regional mock wars. Off the battlefield, we had spent a lot of time sparring with each other, mostly him beating the crap out of me, and we had downed a lot of beer while we sang off key around many a bonfire.
“Willie?” I said with a grin. “Wheel-lock Willie?”
“Oh, my God,” he said. “Marcus the Yeoman. My least favorite lefty.” He stepped out from the ranks of his group and crossed the distance between us. I held out my hand, and we gripped each other by the forearm in a greeting that was more common among SCA fighters. “What in the Hell are you doing in Kansas City?” he laughed.
“Surviving,” I said. “We were headed for St Louis, but we ran into some trouble, so we thought we’d just crash-land here and wander around for a few days until we could find a way out of town. I’d ask about you, but this is Forgotten See, isn’t it?”
“You two know each other?” Hernandez said.
“You could say that,” Willie said. “We used to beat the crap out of each other a couple of times a year. But, as good as it is to see you, this isn’t really the place for a reunion. Is this your whole group?”
“No, we have a few more,” I told him. “About a dozen.” He frowned at that, then he stepped up close to me.
“Do you trust them?” he asked softly.
“Some of them. We rescued a bunch from this religious nut holed up at the Crowne Plaza.”
“That was you? Do you mind if I come meet them?” he asked. I nodded.
“You know you’re always welcome at my fire,” I said. He nodded and stepped back.
“Kent, can you take the rest of the squad back?” he said to the group of men, and now that I could see them more closely, women with him. “Tell Jerry I’m visiting another group of survivors and that I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“You gonna have company?” a tall, dark skinned man asked, presumably Kent.
“I’m not sure, but I hope so.”
“I’ll get the welcome wagon ready,” he said. He turned to me and gestured for me to lead the way. Hernandez pulled me aside.
“How do you know you can trust this guy?” she asked.
“Same way you know you can trust another Marine,” I said as I pointed to the cloth favor that fluttered at Willie’s belt. I’d never liked facing men wearing the crossed axes over the Calon Cross it sported, but I’d always liked having them at my side during field battles. “See that symbol with the crossed axes over the funky fleur-de-lis looking thing he’s wearing on his belt? That’s the symbol of the Iren Hirth, one of the fighting awards in this kingdom. Honor is a big part of earning a place among the huscarls, and he wasn’t one the last time I saw him. It also means he can kick ass.” Her gaze shifted to Willie, then back to me.
“Dude, we’re in the U.S. of A.,” she said. “There’s no kingdoms here.”
“The SCA divides parts of the country into kingdoms. Missouri, Kansas and I think part of Iowa are the kingdom of Calontir.”
“You got a lot of weird shit runnin’ around in your head,” she said before she turned and started to head back.
“You have no idea,” I muttered at her back.
Willie kept up with us with ease as we double-timed it back, but his eyes never stayed in one spot for very long and he didn’t holster the long barreled revolver he’d been holding. Mark kept pace with us out of sure dogged determination, but Chris asked for a break after the first two blocks. When we finally made it to the first ramp, Chris leaned against the concrete pillar and refused to move another step. Hernandez sent Mark on ahead while we waited for Chris. After a few minutes, he straig
htened and we started up the ramp. Kaplan met us at the base of the next level with his submachine gun slung and Phil at his back. Hernandez went forward and spoke to him quietly for a couple of moments, and I could see his gaze flicking between Willie and me.
“Not very trusting,” Willie said to me as Chris walked past us. “That’s promising.”
“You sound impressed,” I said.
“It means they’re not idiots,” he said with a wry grin. “Stupid people die kinda quick these days, and they’re hard on the people around ‘em, too.” I had to nod at his logic. Chris had proven that already today.
“Can’t say that of everyone here,” I said as Kaplan stepped forward, leaving Phil where he stood.
“I’m Lieutenant Gil Kaplan,” he said. “Welcome to our humble camp.” He held his hand out, and Willie took it in his.
“Jason Robertson,” Willie said. “I may be able to help you out.” Kaplan’s eyes went wide at those words, and he took a step back.
“I’m sorry. You…what?” he stammered. Willie gave him his most charming smile and pulled his coif and padded arming cap off. When I’d known him, he’d worn his red hair to his shoulders. He’d shaved it down to little more than stubble, but his beard hadn’t lost any of its thickness, though it had a few strands of white in it now.
“I’m a member of a group of survivors,” he said. “We overheard what went on over the radio last night, and we’d been hoping to run into you folks. We’re willing to take in people who can contribute.”
“I think that’ll work for some of us,” Kaplan said as he looked over his shoulder at Phil.
“And the rest?” Willie asked.
“We’re on our way somewhere else,” I said.
“Which way are you headed?” he asked.
“West,” I said. He smiled and nodded minutely.
“Lieutenant, we might be able to help you out with that too, but I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.” Kaplan gave him a long look, his mouth tight and his eyes unreadable.
“I’ve learned over the past couple of days that I can trust Stewart’s judgment, so I’m willing to have a little faith. The other civilians, though…it’s up to you.”
“I’ll talk to them, then,” Willie said.
“Wait here, then. Stewart, come with me.” Kaplan turned and started walking up the concrete ramp. I caught up to him as he finished speaking to Phil, and we headed up to the next level.
“The less he knows, the less he can let slip,” he said when I asked why we weren’t bringing Willie up with us. “It’s bad enough opsec to even bring him here. I’m sure as hell not going to let him see any more than I have to. Especially not the vehicles.” We climbed over the barricade to find everyone staring at us. Beth’s face was creased into a frown that would have curdled milk if we’d had any, and Tate was standing beside her, his own expression just as sour.
“What’s going on?” Beth demanded as we walked up.
“I guess Mr. Tate hasn’t had time to tell you what the scouting party he was with found,” Kaplan said. All eyes turned to Chris, some more suspicious than others as Kaplan smoothly shifted the focus to him. “They met a representative of another survivor group, and they may be able to help us. The gentleman is on the level below us, and he’d like to speak to you.”
“Why do we have to go down to him?” Chris said petulantly. “If they’re so interested in us, he should put the effort to come talk to us, not demand that we go to him.”
“I made that decision, Mr. Tate,” Kaplan said. “I thought it best that he only get to talk to the people who want to listen to his offer. If you think everyone should have to listen to him, we can put it to a vote.”
“I didn’t say that,” Chris muttered, but the glances people were giving him made it apparent to me that most of the others thought he had.
“Well, let’s not keep the man waiting,” Kaplan said. Almost everyone followed him to the barricade, leaving me alone with Ruth and Amy. The two of them were sitting in the Stryker, and I overheard part of their conversation as I approached.
“I’m not sure what the scientific term would be,” Ruth was saying. “We only have three designations for them. Stage one, stage two and Alpha patients. We were studying the stage one and two victims, but the one I’d love to get a tissue sample of is the Alpha Patient. The one that grabbed you last night must have been some variant of the first stage of the infection.”
“Stage one is when they’re still alive, right?” Amy asked. When Ruth nodded, she went on. “The one that grabbed me felt like he was on fire inside. I shot him like nine or ten times and he should have just dropped, but it was like he kept going until I shot him in the head that last time.”
“I’d love to be able to take a look at his adrenal gland,” Ruth said. “If I had to advance a theory, I’d say his blood was saturated with adrenaline, which would explain the extreme strength and speed, as well as the increased resilience. Given the way it was moving and the heat it seemed to put off, I’d call it a Burner. If I were inclined to nicknames for them. The security staff called the ones that could control the other zombies Screamers, and the cancer victims with all the tumors they called Trolls.”
“I just called them ugly,” I said as I stepped into the troop compartment. They both looked my way. “Aren’t you going to go see what our new friend has to say?” I asked.
Ruth shook her head. “No, after last night, I’m going where you’re going.”
“You do realize that safety and me are pretty much not talking to each other right now, right?”
“Yes, I know, and I’m not on speaking terms with security, either. But logically, your group is the better option. We were the Prophet’s guests for two days, but the four of you managed to escape in a matter of hours. I’m safer in the company of your teenage daughter than any of the other so called adults I was with. So, yes, I’ve already weighed the dangers against the benefits, and I’m still better off with you four.”
I looked to Amy and tilted my head as I gestured to her and said “Well?”
“I’m good with it. She’s cool.” I turned back to Ruth.
“You’re taking your life in your own hands,” I said. “Better get packed. We’re hoofing it from here.”
Chapter 9
Before the Gates
~It was the closest to purgatory that I’ve ever experienced while I’ve been living ~ Dave Thomas
“Everyone goes through this,” Willie said, showing more patience than I would have. “It’s a requirement to come with us. You’re free to go, but if you want to step foot inside Heartland, you put the blindfold on.” Beth stood there looking at him with her hands on her hips and her head tilted back.
“You have no right to make me humiliate myself just to get your help,” she said. “People like you are what’s wrong with the world right now. You should be helping us because it’s the right thing to do. I have valuable skills that you’re going to lose if you try to make me wear that.” As she lectured him, I walked up and held out my hand for the thick band of cloth.
“Fine, go,” I said when he handed it to me. “I’m sure the Prophet will be more than happy to welcome you back with open arms. He had a nice executive package waiting for you, right?”
“Screw you,” she said as she snatched the next one he held up.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Amy comes with me.,” I told Willie. He nodded and gestured for her to step forward.
“I can see why you’re not so thrilled about all your new friends,” he told me as he fastened the blindfold over my eyes. “You never mentioned having a kid.”
“It’s…complicated.,” I said. “She’s my girlfriend’s daughter.”
“Whatever,” he said with a laugh. “Miriam and I have a little girl of our own now. You’ll get to meet her soon.” Amy’s hand found mine a few moments later, and we started off. One of Willie’s squad members took me by the arm and started leading me forward. At first we made a big circle,
and when I was really confused about which direction we were facing, they led us forward in a more or less straight line. Based on the sounds, though, I figured we were heading east, back the way we’d come. Then the sounds changed, and I found myself in a cool, damp place with lots of echoes. The ground went from hard concrete to loose rocks and gravel under my boots, then to dirt.
“Are we under ground?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s an old tunnel that runs under the street,” Willie said. We kept going for a long time, trudging through dirt and occasionally mud until we eventually came out into what felt like open air. I could feel wind on my face, and oddly enough, sun. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d actually seen or felt sunlight. We were led through several turns for what felt like an hour. Finally, I heard the jingling of metal against metal, and the blindfold came away from my eyes. We stood in a fenced in enclosure with a metal structure that only had two walls and a roof. Blankets and cases of water were stacked in the shade of one wall. The six foot chain link fence was reinforced with at least three layers of fencing. I turned to Willie.
