Hope's Return

by Jay J. Falconer

  “For a flesh-eater and all,” Dice said. “Assuming you can get past the whole missing nose thing.”

  “That has its uses, too,” Craven said with a confident tone in his voice.

  “We’ll keep an eye out,” Fletcher said.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Slow down. There’s a sharp curve coming up,” Krista said to Wicks as the man turned the steering wheel a few degrees to the right.

  “Sorry, boss,” Wicks said, pulling his foot off the gas. “Adjusting speed.”

  “Keep the center line through the next section and watch that damn crater on the left. I don’t want to lose another tire like last time.”

  “Roger that,” Wicks said, angling the truck around the bend. He worked the wheel back and forth to dodge a parade of abandoned cars on the road, keeping an even distance from each one. The thick volcanic ash after The Event rendered them useless after suffocating their engines, leaving nothing but relics behind.

  The old horse track was to the right, its roof caved in near the middle. Its parking lot was also full of combustion engine junk, like the roadway. A few of them were old semis, the climate taking a toll on their proud stenciling. All that remained of the lettering on one of trailers was a star icon and the word “mart” after it.

  “We stop for nothing until we’re back at the base,” Krista said. “Is that clear? I want to beat sundown this time.”

  “Crystal. Stopping for nothing, boss,” he said after swinging wide to miss the crater she warned him about. He pressed on the accelerator to resume at a speed somewhat less than before.

  The transport had made good time thus far, thanks to the weather cooperating, even though the sky had filled with ominous-looking clouds the last hour and the wind had resumed its wail.

  The last thing you want when hauling a couple of prisoners through an uncontrolled sector is to get stuck in the mud or slide off the road due to excessive speed or some other negligence. More so with the light fading, leaving more shadows than normal to cover with a light fire team, and a nightly freeze sure to wreak havoc.

  Horton and his pet had behaved themselves thus far, both of them blindfolded and restrained in the back. Her overwatch team had them covered.

  Krista planned to personally oversee the unloading of the prisoners and their delivery to the brig this time. They’d been fortunate to capture the Scab Girl once. She didn’t want to tempt fate with another search and detain of the same target.

  Something in her gut nagged at her that the capture had gone a little too smoothly, though Horton did struggle to talk the girl down from the bus. Krista knew it was possible she was simply paranoid about the whole thing, but she knew better than to make assumptions about anything that happened in the field.

  Regardless, there was something off about the entire encounter. Yet Krista couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It felt like the answer was just out of reach in her mind, hiding in one of the dark spaces, tucked behind a mountain of doubt and suspicion.

  At least the prisoners were secure and the return to the silo was well underway. Her only problem at the moment was her bladder. It was full and building pressure with each roll of the tires.

  It felt like a volcano ready to blow—a whole string of them—supervolcano like. It was all she could do to sit upright in the passenger seat without crossing her legs.

  Another thirty minutes went by before she couldn’t stand it anymore. Just ahead was an overpass, its four-lane blacktop caved in on the left side. Rebar hung from the interior support structure, with chunks of cement attached to some of their ends.

  Krista craned her neck and checked the sky. The clouds were still building and getting darker. She pointed to the right side of the structure coming up fast. “Stop under there. It’s time to find a bush somewhere before the sky opens up.”

  “What about the others?” Wicks said. “Been a long ride for everyone.”

  “You, too?”

  “And then some, boss.”

  “All right. Everyone can take five. But we do so in pairs. Stay sharp, Wicks. We don’t want a repeat of what we just went through.”

  Wicks pulled to the side of the roadway and slid the truck under what remained of the elevated roadway.

  Once the transmission was in park, Krista slid out of the truck and walked to the tailgate, grimacing to keep her bladder in check.

  The guard who’d covered their six during the capture of the Scab Girl stuck his head out from under the tarp first. “Problem, ma’am?”

  “Gotta take a leak. Wicks and I are going first. You three, cover the prisoners.”

  “Ten-four.”

  “Do not take your eyes off them for a second. Understood?”

  “Eyes-on, boss. Got it.”

  “If they give you any trouble, shoot them.”

  “Gladly, ma’am.”

  “If anyone else needs to use the head, they can go next.”

  The man nodded, but didn’t respond.

  “We’ll be back in two shakes,” Krista said, swinging around to the driver’s side of the vehicle where Wicks was standing, scanning the countryside through the optics on his rifle.

  She waited until he finished his sweep. “Anything?”

  “All clear.”

  Krista ran a visual check of the area beyond the overpass, looking for possible squat and drop locations.

  A flat area with scores of trees was on the left—dead trees, remnants of what she assumed was an orange tree orchard. It was about twenty yards below grade with a gentle slope leading from the highway to the first row of trees.

  The other side of the highway featured a dilapidated wooden structure about the size of convenience store, with train tracks running in front of it.

  Weeds littered the ground between the rails, though none of them were green in color—more of a brownish-gray. Sticks mostly, but there may have been some struggling to push out a new crop of leaves.

  The building must have been part of an old train depot, possibly the last stop for vacationers heading to the big city up north. Its walls used to be white, though there wasn’t much of the paint still holding onto the wood, most of it peeling in streaks of chunky flakes.

  What stuck out the most were the windows. They were intact. At least those she could see from her position. An oddity for sure. Only the door facing the tracks was missing.

  Krista pointed at the orchard. “Looks promising over there. Let’s move out.”

  A few minutes later, Wicks walked six rows deep into the tree line before running a quick security check. When he was done, he waved her ahead.

  Krista joined him, then leaned her rifle against the closest tree to free her hands in preparation for taking care of business.

  Wicks moved to the south, selecting a position two rows away with his back to her.

  When she was finished, she closed her pants and laced the camo belt back into place, then adjusted her tactical vest, making sure everything was in its proper place and secure.

  She picked up her rifle and put two fingers into her mouth, whistling at Wicks.

  He spun his head.

  She waved for him to proceed.

  He nodded, keeping his back to her. It only took seconds for his hands to find their way down to his fly, then his spine arched, indicating he was enjoying his relief. Even a man of his size could only hold it so long, leaving no choice but to stop and empty the tank.

  If Krista remembered right, Wicks preferred to call it splashing the trash, though she didn’t understand the meaning behind those words. It must have been a man thing, she decided.

  She kept the sights on her weapon active, sweeping the area from one side to the other, looking for movement as her mind slipped into analytical mode.

  Over the years, she’d passed through this area countless times, but she didn’t remember there ever being an encounter with Frost’s men or the Scabs. In fact, this might have been the most peaceful stretch of the entire highway, if she had to classify it into one category
or another.

  Sure, it was dozens of miles from Frost’s territory, so that explained part of it. However, the Scabs didn’t claim a specific zone, roaming to eat wherever they could find accessible meat.

  Those facts told her there was something unique about this segment of roadway—something that was keeping them away. Assuming, of course, it wasn’t a random happenstance to begin with.

  Perhaps it was a unique feature of the terrain?

  Or the smell of the decaying vegetation?

  Maybe it had something to do with the Earth’s magnetic lines and how they may have been charging the steel tracks?

  Or some other natural repellant?

  When her mind focused on the word “repellant,” a vision flashed in her head, taking her back in time to the Trading Post ambush.

  The scene showed her Fletcher using his unknown compound to keep them safe. Everyone except Frost and Edison, of course, or a list of others from all sides. Fletcher had acted as if it were a new invention, possibly experimental in nature.

  Just then, Wicks finished splashing the trash before bouncing on his heels twice, then assembling his pants. He spun and marched in her direction, joining her position with his rifle in hand. “Damn, that might have been a new world record.”

  She laughed, nodding for him to follow her back to the truck. “When we get back to camp, I want you to assemble a team and get ready to go meet with Fletcher.”

  “Is that today already?”

  “No, but I think we missed something.”

  When he gave her a curious look, she remembered he wasn’t part of their team during that meet. “Oh, that’s right, you were on suspension.”

  “My mistake, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

  “Not what I meant,” Krista said. “He had some kind of repellent that kept the Scabs off us.”

  “Like bug spray?”

  She nodded. “Except it didn’t have that weird smell. But it worked. For most of us, anyway. I should have asked him more about it, but I was distracted with everything going on.”

  “It happens, boss.”

  “That’s no excuse, Wicks. Situational awareness is key to keeping everyone safe. That can never be compromised, no matter how bad things get.”

  “Roger that,” Wicks said, taking a few more steps in tandem with her. “I guess everyone is working on new tech these days. Even Frost.”

  She nodded. “Probably thanks to that Lipton guy in the brig.”

  “Maybe an interrogation is in order? See what else they might be making over there.”

  “I agree. Good idea.”

  “Now that Edison’s no longer in charge, will we be able to use more effective measures? Or will they still keep us in check, making us hug everyone to death?”

  “Well, soldier, that’ll be up to Summer. She’s in charge now.”

  “Excuse me for saying so, boss, but that’s fucked. You earned that post.”

  The man was right, even though she could never agree out loud. “I appreciate the support, Wicks, but the rules are the rules.”

  “I’m not sure everyone realizes that Summer is not what she appears to be. I know firsthand. She totally jacked me and everyone bought it.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but we both know there was plenty of blame to go around.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she’s a terrible choice. Especially if we have to continue all the diplomatic, wishy-washy crap. We need to get tough before it’s too late.”

  Krista couldn’t argue his point because he was right. But regardless, it was time to rein in her man, while still supporting him and his feedback. “We’ll see how it goes, but for now, Summer is the boss and we follow her orders. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Before their next step, a string of gunshots rang out.

  POP! POP! POP!

  Krista stopped in her tracks and took a defensive posture in a low-profile crouch. Wicks did the same, both of them listening for direction and distance.

  When another barrage ripped through the air, Krista realized it was coming from dead ahead—on the highway—up by the transport. There weren’t any indications that the rounds were being fired in their direction, but then again, they were well below grade.

  “They must have escaped again,” Wicks said in a whisper, his rifle high and tight against his shoulder.

  “Shit,” Krista snapped, getting to her feet as she broke into a sprint, keeping low. She could hear the clatter of Wicks’ equipment only a few steps behind.

  When her ears rang with more bursts of gunfire, she figured all of her men were now engaged, firing at will, attempting to take down Horton and the Scab Girl. “I can’t believe they let them escape. Again.”

  The rise in terrain came quickly to her feet, causing her to slow and creep forward, in case her assumptions were wrong about what was happening ahead.

  The crest of the hill brought not only the highway into view, but a scene of carnage she never expected. Scabs were everywhere, maybe fifty of them, their teeth showing and mouths snarling. Her men had dug in by the transport under the overpass, emptying their magazines at the targets moving in a circle around them.

  A number of Scabs had been hit, their bodies lying motionless on the cement. A few were twisted into a heap, with limbs missing and heads exploded, their parts scattered like castoffs on a butcher shop’s floor.

  “We need to help them,” Wicks said, bringing his rifle up after arriving in a plop next to her on the left.

  “Stand down, Wicks,” she said. “We’ll hit our own if we fire now.”

  “We have to do something. We can’t just leave them out there. They’re going to run out of ammo.”

  Krista took a moment to think, running through a number of scenarios that might work. One of the choices worked itself to the top of the list. “What we need is a diversion. Draw them away.”

  “Divide and conquer,” Wicks added, his eyes indicating he understood where she was going with her plan.

  Krista pointed to the nearest side of the broken-down overpass, specifically at the hanging rebar with rubble below it. It looked like one of the cement chunks on the end of the exposed rebar was within reach. “Do you think you can get to that rebar and climb up?”

  Wicks paused for a beat, his eyes running a check of the overpass. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “I’ll draw them out so you can pick them off.”

  Wicks nodded.

  Krista continued, “But verify your targets. And for my sake, don’t miss.”

  “I won’t.”

  Krista gave him her extra magazines. “Go! Now! There isn’t much time.”

  He stuffed two into his vest, then tried to give two of them back. “You might need these.”

  She shook her head. “If I have to change mags, I’m dead already. It’ll be up to you to keep them off me.”

  Wicks held his stare, but didn’t respond.

  “Go! That’s an order!” she said, shooting him her most commanding look.

  Wicks pulled the ammo back, then climbed to his feet and swung around to the right, sprinting faster than a man of his size should have been able to run. His path took him to the backside of the overpass, using it as cover until he made it to the corner. He held for a beat, then made a dash for the rebar, grabbing onto the hanging chunk of cement and pulling himself up.

  When he made it to the roadway above and got into position, she pressed to her feet, then broke into the open, praying her men by the truck would see her in time and not draw down in her direction. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all she had.

  “Hey you!” she screamed, shooting her rifle into the air, using a series of single trigger pulls. The barrage caught the attention of the Scabs, bringing their eyes around in a collective motion. She stopped firing and yelled, “I’m over here, you freaks!”

  About half the Scabs broke off and came at her. She backpedaled, firing one round at a time, making sure each trigger pull
found a target.

  After she’d hit four in the head, Wicks joined the fight, taking down Scab after Scab, plinking them like target practice from his elevated position. Heads, shoulders, and legs blew apart, some even happened together on a single shot as the high-velocity rounds tore through more than one rail-thin cannibal.

  Just then, a number of Scabs stopped their pursuit and turned to face Wicks’ position. The rest kept advancing toward her.

  Krista yelled again, wanting all of them to keep their attention on her. “Come on, you fuckers, I’m right here. Come and get me!”

  Before the next breath came to her lungs, the unexpected happened—the Scab Girl flew out of the back of the transport and ran into the open, taking a direct path to the horde attacking. One of her overwatch team also climbed down from the tailgate, his hand holding a Ka-bar knife.

  Helena flew onto the back of one of the male Scabs and began tearing into his neck from behind. Her hands and teeth worked in unison as she ripped his spine into bloody chunks.

  Krista continued backstepping and shooting a round at a time, while Wicks kept firing, taking out more Scabs from his perch.

  When Krista looked back at the truck, she saw Helena on another Scab’s back, ripping and shredding him to pieces like the first.

  One of the other Scabs standing close to Helena turned and went for her leg as she continued her melee on Scab number two.

  Krista stopped her retreat and brought her rifle up to take out the Scab who’d grabbed onto Helena’s leg. Before Krista could pull the trigger, the Scab’s head exploded. The blood spray and subsequent body fall indicated the shot came from her men protecting the truck.

  Krista began moving in reverse again, bringing her rifle back to the gang coming at her, shooting another one in the head, landing the shot just under the hole in the middle of his face and above the lips.

  Wicks wasn’t done either, taking down more of the Scabs with head and neck shots, mowing them down like cannon fodder. The malnourished flesh of the damned was no match for his heavy-grained .302 caliber rounds.

  When Krista turned her attention back to Helena, she saw Horton helping her off the ground. The two of them then stood together and fought more of the attackers, his hand armed with a knife.