Haven From Hell (Book 2): Warrior's Chronicle

by Won, Mark

  Henry asked, “What if the ghouls catch you?”

  Quick to get a word in Jake answered for me, “They’re no problem. There’s no way they’ll get through the bars over all the windows.”

  “What happens if one of the ghouls is as strong as an ogre? Then what will you do?” That Henry needed to learn how to keep his tone down. That kind of speculation was bad for morale.

  With all the men looking at me for a comforting response to that new line of thought, I replied, “Then I’ll shoot it in the head.”

  Henry wasn’t done, “Well, what happens if a bunch of ogres catch the bus before you manage to turn it around? What then?”

  My reply was, “What happens if a rock falls out of the sky and lands on all you guys while were busy in town? I guess I’ll just have to figure something out. Just remember to keep your wits about you. Begin with the large calibers aiming low, and then end them with head shots.”

  With all of Henry’s questions put to rest, Albert, the crew, and I got into our bus and began a slow drive into town, honking the horn the whole way. Making all that noise it didn’t take long for a mob to begin shambling in our direction. We immediately turned around and led them back the way we’d come. They were all of the common variety zombie with nothing interesting to alarm us.

  Long before we had led them back to our friends, I had us turn about, slam through a few of the enemy and drive back toward town. Albert kept leaning on the horn, bringing out more and more of the enemy. Then we turned around again, slammed through the crowd and led our new bunch away.

  Eventually, we did encounter a couple of ghouls. And they did reach our ride long before Albert could complete a Y-turn. I made a point of having a couple of the guys (Reg and Joe) shoot the ghouls as they were trying to shake the bars over the windshield loose. We lost the windshield but the bars held just fine. My crew was in desperate need of experience.

  By our fifth trip back into town we managed to pick up an ogre. A fellow by the name of Don alerted me to it as soon as it began jogging toward us, “Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul! There’s one there, there, there, there!”

  As I got into position, I told Albert, “Just put the bus in reverse and back up nice and slow.” As he did so another two ogres came into view.

  We had no trouble keeping a reasonable distance with Albert behind the wheel. He could keep us moving backward at an easy fifteen miles per hour without any risk. Occasionally we’d hit a zombie attempting to close with us but they were no threat. Meanwhile, I had the guys get some real nice solid target practice in at our enemy’s expense.

  Once we’d eliminated all the ogres in our immediate vicinity, I had us turn about to rejoin the rest of the rescue crew. Jake seemed irritated, “You just wanted us to hang around out here doing nothing?”

  I chose to overlook his outburst, “Now it’s your turn, Jake. The plan remains the same. If we need to call in reinforcement, I know help is only a phone call away.”

  I had someone drive besides either Jake or I. The man I picked actually used to be a bus driver before the Change so I was pretty confident of his abilities. We smashed through a slowly growing crowd of zombies heading back into town. All that crowd then turned about and began following us back the way they’d come.

  Right off we attracted a mixed bunch of ghouls and ogres. They came crashing out of a Masonic Temple just to our left. The building must have been pretty crowded when the Change happened. Every one started shouting and shooting as soon as the ghouls charged.

  I put my hand on the drivers shoulder, “Keep it together, Pete, put it in reverse and back away. Make sure you keep us-.” That was as far as I got when the first ghoul jumped into the windshield. The windshield took so much fire it was a miracle no one was hit by a ricochet off the bars.

  I shouted, “Hold your fire! Don’t get excited. That damn thing can’t part the bars. Pete, slow down and make sure you keep us on the road. I said hold your fire!” Those guys really needed a class in firearm safety.

  “Everyone just calm down and take in the show.” I finally had their attention. The ghouls hanging about the bus were shaking all the added ironwork for all they were worth, but there was plainly no way that they were going to get through anytime soon.

  I went on, “Okay, this is good. Jake, step up and show us how it’s done. I want you to put one bullet through the skull of that one right there,” I pointed to the one right in front of our driver, “preferably before poor Pete there pees his pants.” That got a laugh. It always does.

  So, that’s how we took care of them. By the time we’d finished with the ghouls Pete had reversed around two corners. He managed both turns with consummate skill, keeping well ahead of the ogres.

  “That’s real good guys,” I said, “Now lets try for a few shots on the ogres.” It took longer than I thought it would to finish off the ogres. Their legs could take a surprising amount of punishment before the ogres would slow down. I changed tactics and advised head shots against that particular enemy.

  Once we’d handled that minor emergency, I had us turn about one more time to switch places with Henry and unit Gamma. By then everyone was beginning to understand the drill.

  Unfortunately for Henry and his crew, we didn’t have any more ghouls or ogres in town to use as tactics and target practice. So instead I focused on the comparatively boring job of slowly leading the enemy out of town. We did eventually set up a simple cross fire to finish off any of the zombies still standing. There hadn’t been too many left after we’d been grinding them under the tires of our buses all day. Just as well; we saved on ammunition.

  The happy news was that we were able to recover fourteen people from all around the small town. Most were thirsty. All were hungry. For the most part, their situation before our arrival had been desperate to the point of drinking toilet water. From that point on we began to act with a greater cohesiveness, we were more like what a proper unit should be. Still woefully under trained, though.

  I was looking forward to doling out more on the job training. We had a number of survivor’s reports, detailing the confirmed location of numerous friends and family members. With all that information we had our work cut out for us, but I hadn’t forgotten my promise to get back home safely to Felicia and the kids. I missed them terribly.

  Part 2: Diplomacy

  Chapter 1: Roadblock, A Short Walk, A Little Local Color

  “What do you make of it?” It was some months later, and Henry and I were scouting out a giant road block. Our rescue group (still the only rescue group) had saved hundreds of people in that time. It seemed that some crazy kid with a shortwave was biking around and encouraging people to give us a call. He’d started out in New Jersey and headed south from there. We’d picked up all the survivors he’d left behind from Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama. I met him once and he sent chills down my spine. In my days of serving my country I’ve worked with many dangerous men and killed my share of the enemy, but I’d never seen anything like that kid. A natural born killer just looking for an excuse. Thank Christ someone had given him a decent upbringing or he would have been leaving nothing but bodies in his wake.

  After our last pickup in Alabama we had returned home and then turned our attentions to Tennessee, where we had encountered a most unusual dead end. It did not have the look of a trap about it. Someone had piled up a bunch of cars until they formed an impassible mass up ahead. A crane must have been involved in the construction since the whole mess was shaped like a four tier pyramid. On the right was a river, and on the left was a steep wooded ridge.

  I replied, “If I had to guess, I’d say that the same people who cleared out that village half a mile back are responsible for what we’re seeing here. My question is, how friendly will they be?”

  “What should we do?” I could tell Henry had no clue how to handle a potential human threat. By that time we’d rescued just over a thousand people in the course of six months, driving
all over the back roads of the nation. In all that time we hadn’t encountered any bandits, probably because we looked to be to well armed and armored to be worth the effort.

  I told Henry, “I don’t see anyone keeping watch on top of their barricade. I’ll hike up that ridge,” I pointed to my left, “and try to get a better view of what’s all around.”

  “Do you want me to come along?”

  “No,” I said, “I’ll take Sam. You remain in charge of your unit right here. If things go bad, retreat and don’t come back this way. Tell the others.” By which I meant Jake and Albert.

  Sam was a good guy but a bit of a hot head. I selected him because he could use a little exercise to take the edge off. Also, he was young and athletic, a good runner. If someone or something was waiting for us on top of that ridge, Sam had a reasonable chance of getting away.

  It was a steep climb. That was good news and bad. The good news was that zombies really didn’t handle harsh terrain well, so we probably wouldn’t encounter any up there. The bad news was that if we did encounter any of the Changed, then they would probably be either ghouls or ogres, neither of which had much trouble moving over difficult ground.

  Once we reached the top Sam and I moved along the ridge until we could get a clear view of the other side of the roadblock. It was an abandoned road. No structures, no one laying in ambush. At first I had thought that the road barrier was intended to stop vehicular traffic, but I was beginning to suspect that the whole thing was designed to keep out the zombies.

  Sam asked, “So what’s the point?” while gesturing at the piled up cars. He had a valid question. Any ghoul could scrabble over that pile in a heartbeat, and although it would take a little longer, an ogre could probably manage the climb as well. The whole road block looked massive enough so that an ogre trying to tear its way through would at least be slowed down slightly, but without anyone on constant guard I didn’t see how the barrier would keep anything away for long.

  “I’m not sure, Sam, it’s a mystery. Have you noticed anything strange about the number of ghouls and ogres we’ve encountered lately?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said, “we haven’t run into any lately. Everybody’s noticed. Usually we run into one or the other at least once a day.” We actually had been getting quite good at picking an ogre out of the crowd. As long as we were in the buses those were the only kind of Changed that posed a real threat.

  “My guess is, and don’t quote me on this, that this part of the world only has zombies. Or so few of the other kinds that the people who live around here don’t know about them yet.”

  Part of our overall mission was to scout out the remains of the U.S.A. and return to Haven with that information. If there was an unknown community in the region building giant roadblocks, then Mark would want to know about it. I pulled out my walkie talkie and radioed back to Jake, Henry, and Albert, telling them that we were okay. Then I gave instructions for them to back off about a mile and hide. Sam and I were going to continue scouting. My plan was for us to return by sundown tomorrow. If we didn’t make it back then we weren’t coming. They were to assume the region hostile, leave, and not return.

  I was always a little concerned when using a radio in a potentially hostile environment. And, to me, every environment is potentially hostile. Those things are basically party lines. Our whole operation was constantly trying to listen for any radio communication, all the time, just in case someone was calling for help. We were also actively trying to call anyone we could reach. We hadn’t heard anything in the region so far, so that made me feel a bit safer about calling back to the buses. It seemed improbable that anyone would expend batteries or fuel just to monitor radio frequencies, without actually using those same frequencies to facilitate their own internal communications.

  I could have walked back to the main group to communicate my intention, but I didn’t see the point. We had been using our walkie talkies non stop up until we encountered the road block, as a matter of course. As soon as we saw the obstruction we tried raising Haven on our shortwave, but we got no response. Anyone local trying to listen for us (either specifically or just in general) would have had as easy a time as we could make it.

  The other side of the ridge was more wooded ridge, a tiny vale, and then another, larger wooded ridge. We stayed on the side of the ridge which ran parallel to the road as we advanced. Every ten minutes we snuck down to the road and took a better look at what was ahead. Eventually, after about a mile or so of that, Sam and I came to a structure, a house.

  It was a standard single floor home with a large yard. The house was painted a dull white and seemed slightly run down, which was common in that part of the country. There was an old oak tree in the front yard, a bit too close to the house for comfort, with an old tire swing hanging from a low branch. The driveway to the unconnected garage ran toward us until it reached the road. All of that was ordinary to the point of irrelevance. Such houses litter the landscape of the nation. Even without any obvious breakage there was nothing to recommend the building for a second glance. The thing which caught our attention, however, was the four kids playing on the tire swing.

  There were two kids, a boy and a girl, standing on top of the tire while the other two kept trying to push the swing to ever increasing heights, without getting knocked flat in the process. There was an elderly matron sitting on the porch swing just looking on and sipping something from a glass. Very domestic.

  Sam whispered, “That looks safe.” By which he didn’t mean the children's safety. It looked to me like somebody over there was about to loose a tooth. What Sam meant was that it looked safe for us. Sure, it’s entirely possible that a bunch of murderous bandits had some kids that they innocently loved. Children which they might even die for. Evil people can love the same as anyone else; even Hitler had a girl friend. And, of course, if all we’d seen was a bunch of violent looking men malingering about, picking their noses, and telling dirty jokes, that wouldn’t have meant that they weren't all really nice guys. You never know until you know, but on average it’s a safer bet to trust a bunch of harmless looking women and kids. Which is the main reason I ran those prolonged rescue missions with a couple of women assigned to each bus (except they didn’t look harmless, they looked very well armed). I believed they inclined people to be more likely to trust us.

  The first thing I did was back off a bit and try to listen in on any radio communication which might be in the area. I got nothing. Then I tried calling Jake, my second in command. I was not surprised when I couldn’t reach him. They say that the range on those walkie talkies is thirty miles, but that’s a bald faced lie. It’s really more like three miles, tops, if there’s any kind of terrain to hinder the signal. In that backwoods, ridge laden, mountainous terrain, I’d had no reason to expect that I’d be able to contact the main group. I’d have been surprised to reach anyone over half a mile away.

  I told Sam, “We can sit here and watch for a while but I doubt we’ll learn anything. I plan on going over there to say hello. You stay here. If anyone starts shooting, run off and don’t come back. I’ll make it back if I’m able, but the timetable stays the same. If I’m not back by sundown tomorrow, leave and avoid the area in the future. Understood?”

  Sam said, “I’m not just going to leave you here! If they try anything I’ll give you cover fire so you can escape.”

  With a sigh of long suffering I replied, “Keep your voice down. What about everybody else? Based on our angle of approach anyone can tell which direction we came from. Next thing you know the buses are surrounded by a thousand murderous thugs who snuck up on them in the middle of the night, firing shotgun slugs into all our friends. One of us has to report back and our walkie talkies don’t have that kind of range. I’ll need you to observe and escape. Once you’re safely away, then you can try calling the group. But don’t slow down. By then an enemy may have begun monitoring the air waves. If everything goes well with the natives, I’ll try calling you with an update and further
instructions. If I survive the next ten minutes without getting shot at, then stay here for two hours before getting back to the buses. Understood?”

  Sam wasn’t too happy about it, but eventually I brought him around to my way of thinking. There was another reason I didn’t want Sam hanging around trying to save me: Even if I was fired upon I might get away on my own. With Sam along my odds actually went down.

  So, I approached the quaint little southern home after leaving my rifle with Sam and securing my 9mm, in it’s holster, to the small of my back. With my travel pack strapped to my back I was trying to pass for a random traveler looking for refuge. I was hoping for a peaceable reception.

  The woman sitting on the porch saw me walking toward her home as soon as I cleared the tree line, maybe thirty yards from her. She seemed interested but not alarmed. I took that as a good sign. The kids didn’t stop playing after giving me the most cursory of glances. Better and better. As soon as I knew I’d been seen I raised my hand in a friendly greeting, smiled, and said hi. She greeted me in return.

  I said, “My name’s Paul. I’ve been traveling all over and you’re the first living people I’ve seen in many a mile. Do you mind if I rest for a while on your porch?”

  She seemed equal parts confused and enthusiastic, “Go right ahead and have a seat,” she motioned to a place on the swing beside her. Then she asked, “Where are you from? I thought that we were the only people left alive on the whole earth!”

  “Just before this whole thing happened I was working down in Florida. I managed to get on a boat and traveled up the Mississippi. Eventually, I overheard some chatter on my shortwave from a group in Wisconsin so I headed over in that direction. Now I’ve come this far to see who’s left in this part of the country.”