by Ben Reeder
“Pretty much, but not as bad if I’m not with you,” I said as a glimmer of hope and a plan started to form in the back of my brain. “So, we’re back to the original deal; I help you find a safe place, and you help me get out of town, but I don’t leave with you. So I guess this does turn into something of an exchange.”
“Agreed,” Devira said. “We had originally planned on something of a distraction when we left, akin to the ploy used in The Road Warrior. You may be able to provide us with exactly what we need. What do you want for your part of this bargain?”
“First off, you take Amy with you when you go. Second, I want to use the radio to contact Maya.”
“Like hell!” Amy said. “You promised Mom you’d get me to Nate’s place. Not that you’d leave me with the first person who was going the same way.”
“This isn’t an argument, Amy,” I said. “I promised you and your mom I’d keep you safe and get you to Nate’s. And right now, safe means you being someplace I’m not.”
“Anything else you want?” Pete asked.
“Actually, there are a couple of things,” I said.
Chapter 12
Preparations
~ Plans are nothing, planning is everything ~ Dwight Eisenhower
“So, has Amy stopped giving you the silent treatment yet?” Willie asked me as I set the shortwave set down on the floor and took off the simple bowl helmet he’d given me.
“Nope,” I answered as I pushed the mail coif back. With the mail out of the way, I donned my headlamp and turned it on, then proceeded to hook up the battery to the radio. “Quietest day of my life so far.”
“She’s up to something,” he said with a smile. “I have a four year old daughter. Any time a kid stops trying to convince you to let them do something, they’re planning something worse.”
“She’s a good kid, I’m sure it won’t be anything too bad.” I told him as I finished hooking up the antenna wire.
“Famous last words,” he said.
“So, is that what started all the fires?” I said as I pointed out the window in a bid to change the subject. To the east, I could see fires flickering against the tail section of a plane sticking up from the blackened roof of what used to be the Sprint Center. From where we were, I could also see fires in the reflective bluish-green glass side of another building that had a narrow gash sliced from it.
“We think so, or at least the biggest one. I watched it crash Monday afternoon on my way home from work. All I could think about was getting home to Miriam and April.”
“I know the feeling,” I said. “So how did you hook up with this Heartland thing?”
“Devira was Miriam’s adviser when she was in college, and we introduced her to the SCA. When I got home she was already there with Pete. I had no idea what to do, Dave. The world was going crazy all around us, people were running around trying to eat each other or shoot each other. And then there was Dr. Shaked at my dining room table with an assault rifle, cool and collected, telling us about a plan. Any other day I would have thought she was crazy, but right then, it was the only rational thing in front of me.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Even Pete looked like he was in shell-shock, and he’s a retired cop.”
“What you guys have done is amazing,” I said. In front of me, the radio came to life when I hit the power button.
“Well, we got a lot of the people from the barony, and Pete knew some folks. But most of them just started popping up when we were out on salvage runs, kind of like you did. So, why are we lugging a radio up here, anyway?”
“So I can talk to my girlfriend without bringing the bad guys down on Heartland.” His face clouded at that, and he folded his arms.
“A lot of people might not be too happy about that,” he said. “Special treatment doesn’t go over well in Heartland.”
“Well, a lot of people don’t have a girlfriend with a ham radio set in her truck,” I told him. “And a set of frequencies and times to monitor. And…a lot of people aren’t going to be left out, Willie. Trust me on this.”
“This isn’t the time to let me down,” he said.
“Believe me, I remember who I practice with,” I said with a wince. Just when I thought I was going to be able to heal up a little, I’d talked Willie into helping me improve my sword skills. Now my ribs and arms were sporting a whole new set of bruises from the workouts he’d put me through that morning and afternoon. I tuned the radio to the right frequency and checked the time, then grabbed the microphone and hit the transmit button.
“This is Magic Man, broadcasting from Kansas City, Missouri. This is the Magic Man, and I’m looking for my Black Magic Woman. Are you out there, baby? This is the man with a plan, looking for my Black Magic Woman.” I let go and waited.
“Magic Man?” Willie said with barely suppressed mirth in his voice.
“It’s from a song. Shut up.”
“Magic Man,” I heard Maya’s voice a few seconds later. “Oh, sweet goddess, it’s good to hear your voice, baby.” Her voice was strained, and it cracked at first.
“It’s good to hear yours, too,” I said, hoping no one heard the catch in my voice. “I wish this was just a social call, but time’s short and the airwaves have ears. Your girl’s okay, and we’ll see you soon. But in the meantime, I need you to head to 51, 50, 35 by neg 114, 37, 05. That 51, 50, 35 by neg 113, 37, 05. Usual course corrections apply.”
“Got it babe,” she replied a few seconds later. “When will I see you?”
“Not soon enough,” I told her. “Not soon enough. Time to go. I love you.”
“Love you, and tell my girl I love her and hug her tight for me.” I let go of the transmit key and let out a deep breath, a thousand things I wanted to tell her running through my head.
“That wasn’t very smart, telling her the coordinates over the air like that,” Willie said.
“Usual course corrections means take eleven degrees off the coordinates I gave her,” I said as I started scanning frequencies. “If anyone actually follows those, they’ll end up somewhere with a name like Manitoba or Saskatchewan.”
“Has anyone ever accused you of being paranoid?” he asked.
“I’m not paranoid. Nate was the one who taught me all these tricks. Besides, people really are out to get me. It’s only paranoia if you’re wrong. Now, it’s time to listen to the sky and see what the night can tell me.” The scanner stopped on a weak signal. I put the headphones on and plugged them in.
“…one out there? This is KT4RTY out of Seattle. Is anyone out there?”
“KT4RTY this is Magic Man in Kansas City. I copy your signal. Do you copy?” I waited for a long moment before the voice, now sobbing, came back on the air.
“Thank God! My name is Mark Nevins. Seattle is gone. I think I’m the only one left here. I just wanted to hear another human voice before the end.”
“Mark, this is Dave Stewart. Listen to me. You have to hold on. In every city, there are usually survivors. You just have to find them.”
“They’re outside my door! Oh God! I can’t get out. I’m out of food and water, I used my last bullet to put down my wife when she changed.” I heard a heavy thump over the air, then the sound of wood splintering. “Oh, God, they have a big one, he’s-” The voice turned into a shrill scream that cut off. I hung my head and cursed, then reached for the power switch.
“Magic Man, this is Diesel Don, down in Cherokee, Oklahoma. Ya’ll still there?” The new voice came through strong and crisp. My hand froze an inch from the power switch.
“Diesel, this is Magic Man, I’m still here,” I said slowly
“I couldn’t hear that other fella, but I can hear ya’ll five by five. We ain’t doin’ too bad out here in Cherokee. We had a few dead folks up and start walkin’ around, but the sheriff and his folks put ‘em down pretty damn quick. Talk around here is we’re gonna stay put for now.”
“Sounds good, Don. And if anyone else can hear me, this is Magic Man in Kansas City. If you have fri
ends or family here, we’ll be listening on this frequency tomorrow night at the same time.” I changed to one of the more popular frequencies and sent out the same call, but I put the time two hours later. Then, I listened. The airwaves were a little more active than I’d figured on, and I picked up signals from Utah, Texas and Iowa. Salt Lake City was gone, but some of the more remote areas were fairing a little better. Dallas and Houston were burning, but a ham operator in San Angelo was broadcasting from Fort Concho where he’d gathered a group of survivors by broadcasting on the FM bands. Iowa City was broadcasting from the college radio station and reporting that the campus had been mostly overrun, but a group of survivors had holed up in one of the dorms. Then a familiar voice filled the airwaves, bouncing across the FM bands. I pulled the earplugs free so Willie could hear the Prophet’s latest words of so called wisdom.
“- is this man who calls himself Dave? Let’s look at him in his own words. He claims he was in the Air Force, but says nothing in any of his books about whether or not he got an honorable discharge. Makes one wonder, doesn’t it? Then there is the myriad of jobs he claims to have held. Why is he so often unemployed? And let’s not even go to the sordid books he wrote before the wrath of God descended upon us, for it was the work of men like him who brought the end of the world upon us!”
“Is he serious?” Willie asked when he could stop laughing.
“Wait, I think it gets better,” I said.
“And let us not forget that he was living in sin with the trailer park trash he called a girlfriend, and raising her daughter to be a harlot just like her mother.” It was Willie who reached out and turned the radio off.
“How pathetic. Is he that disgusting every night?”
“Going after Maya is a new low even for him. He’s getting desperate enough to say pretty much anything by now.” I plugged the earphones back in and went back to scanning the airwaves.
“Dave, we have to get out of here,” Willie said as I started to scan again. “Ground team is seeing some movement in the streets.” I nodded and switched the power off, then disconnected the antenna and battery. Once the radio was put away, I put the coif back up, strapped the helmet on, shouldered the pack, and grabbed my M39. The trip down was a little easier than the twenty two story climb up, but it was still rough on the knees, especially with the extra armor Willie had foisted on me. Now, in addition to the mail coif and helmet, a pair of greaves protected my shins, and a pair of knee cops were strapped just above them. The building we had chosen was empty even before Z day, which might have explained why it wasn’t on fire. With the utilities off, there was no gas to catch. We made our way down the stairwells as fast as we could with our flashlights as the only source of illumination.
“Kent, we’re coming out, don’t shoot us, okay?” Willie said as we hit the first floor. My shoulders were starting to get that twitchy feeling and I fought the urge to hit something with every step we took toward the door. “Kent, respond, we’re heading out to the street now.” We exchanged a worried look as the radio remained silent in his hand.
“There’s a lot of them nearby,” I growled. “I can feel it.”
“Lock and load,” Willie said. I unslung the M39 and grabbed a spare magazine from my vest. We hit the doors at a trot and stepped into a melee in Hell. Two of Willie’s team were down, both fighting off a pair of ghouls apiece. The other four were swinging steel and dropping infected as fast as they could, but it was obvious they wouldn’t last much longer. I put a round through the torso of one of the ghouls pinning Kent, leaving Willie to shoot the other one. In the uncertain light from the fires around us, I should have been a terrible shot, but more heads exploded than didn’t as I walked my fire across the group of zombies on the left of the line. Willie’s rifle boomed in a slow, dependable rhythm as a counterpoint to my rapid shots. The first magazine ran dry and I dropped the empty and slammed the fresh one home. Again and again the gun bucked against my shoulder, and more zombies and ghouls dropped.
When the second mag ran dry, I looked to see how close the bad guys were. I had time for another mag, so I pulled a fresh one from my vest, dropped the second spent box and started shooting again, only now I started to walk forward slowly until I was even with the rest of the team. This time I pushed the gun down on its sling and pulled my Colt. Eight rounds dropped four zombies, and I shoved the pistol back into its holster to grab the SOCOM. The laser sight centered on the nose of a woman in a skimpy nurse’s outfit, and I pulled the trigger, then moved to a dead man in a blue workshirt and jeans. His head cratered on itself and I tracked back left to find a zombie in a fast food uniform stumbling toward me. I put a round through his eye and watched the head of the guy behind him whip around a microsecond later. Instinct told me to look right and I saw a ghoul in a business skirt sprinting toward Willie’s unprotected right side. I had to step forward to get a clear shot, and I put two rounds into her chest for good measure and one last round through the top of her head to make sure she didn’t get back up. I looked back to my left to see another wall of zombies moving our way. I brought the SOCOM up and walked from right to left across the line and emptied the last eight rounds in the magazine. Six fell, and I reached over my shoulder for the Deuce with one hand while I holstered the empty pistol. A wall of zombies three deep still blocked the road, but their numbers had thinned enough that I could see some chance of breaking through them.
“Willie!” I called out as an idea formed in my head. “It’s like the shield wall!” When we fought together in the Estrella War, Calontir’s shield wall was like a wall of steel and death. One line of fighters would put their shields edge to edge, and the ones behind them would use long weapons to kill anything in front of the shields. Unless you packed a lot of people against it, you got knocked out of the fight pretty fast. I’d been on both sides of the shield wall, and I liked being on the back side of it a lot more than I did being in front of it.
“Only without the shields,” he yelled back. “Poleaxes, between us!” he yelled as he pulled his six foot greatsword free. The two carrying the long hafted axes stepped in between us, and we jogged forward in step. Just as we approached the ragged line of zombies, the axes slammed down into the skulls of the ones in front. Willie let out a battle cry as his blade swept forward and severed the legs of two of the zombies on the right flank. While the poleaxes slammed down on the next wave of walking stiffs, I turned and brought the Deuce into an arc that slammed into the side of a zombie skull, then brought the blade back around to hit another one right on the top of the cranium and bash its head in. As they fell, I stepped to my right and repeated the move, swinging the blade up above my head and down at an angle that sheared off the right side of the next zombie’s head, then up and around to the other side in a smooth motion to cleave another one from forehead to chin. The next swing was a clean decapitation that left my blade halfway through the sixth zombie’s head. Then we were through the mass, and facing twenty or so in small groups.
We ran, letting our greater speed get us past most of the zombies, only occasionally killing a zombie that got too close. Poleaxes and greatswords made it a lot easier to hit them before they got within arm’s reach. I reloaded my pistols on the run and dropped the empty magazines into my vest as soon as we were clear of the largest groups of them, then pulled the Deuce in favor of its quieter killing ability. We broke left after we got some distance on the shambling group behind us, then right at the next block and skidded to a stop. Another wall of infected was standing midway down the block, effectively closing off the road. In the center was the well-dressed PZ from the other night.
“It’s the Necromancer!” Kent said. A couple of ghouls came at us and I stepped forward with my sword up. They stopped as soon as I moved, then backed away. I came up short at that.
“That’s new,” I said to no one in particular.
“Kent, take the others and find another way around,” Willie said as he stepped forward and took up a position on my right side. “We�
��ll hold them here long enough to give you a head start.” I heard slow steps behind me, then the measured footfalls of people double-timing away at a disciplined pace.
“You sure you don’t want to go with them?” I said to Willie as the PZ walked forward.
“I’d love to,” he answered quietly, “but I want to see how this plays out.”
“Assuming you live through this.”
“I get the feeling I will,” he said. The crowd of zombies and ghouls advanced to cover our left and right flanks, and I found myself of two minds about the situation. The smarter, more survival oriented side of my brain was very unhappy about being so vulnerable. The rage-fueled zombie killer in me saw it as a way to thin the ranks of the dead, which would make it easier to break those ranks and work my way up one side along the building. With Willie covering my rear it would be that much easier. My eyes darted from target to target, and I saw a path that I could hack through the crowd. Then another set of possibilities became visible, then another, until at least half a dozen ways to fight my way clear of the horde were laid out in my head.
None of them were so tempting as the one that led to Patient Zero.
“Good evening, Survivor,” the Necromancer said. “What a nice night for a stroll.”
“I thought the same thing,” I said. “But I bet you weren’t just being all casual and random, were you?”
“Oh, no, I had something specific in mind.”
“I hope you didn’t have your heart set on killing me,” I told him with a fierce grin, “because I’m just not in the mood for dying tonight.” His laugh set my nerves on edge, and even the zombie killing part of me had a moment of doubt when I heard that god-awful noise come slithering from his mouth.
“Oh, no, I can’t kill you. You’re still too valuable to me alive. In fact, I am going to yield the field to you. And your friends who ran will tell everyone how you stood face to face with the Necromancer and lived to tell the tale. And the next thing you know, instant legend; just add gossip.” He smiled, pulling gray lips back from crooked teeth set in shrunken gums.
