by T. W. Brown
There were remnants of military tents, along with an assortment of vehicles—most showing signs of having been fire-bombed. A curious mix of civilians and soldiers lie dead in rows.
“What the hell?” Peter asked for everybody.
“Did the soldiers turn on each other…or did locals attack the outpost?” Shari asked. “I mean,” she turned to face Heather, “you live near here. What happened?”
“No idea,” Heather said with a shrug.
“You girls stay in the truck.” Kevin opened the passenger side door and climbed out. “And I don’t want to hear any arguments about this.” He held up a hand to silence any protests. “Peter and I will have a look around. It seems that we will be on foot from here on out. Let us make certain that we can pass through here without too much trouble.”
“I don’t see any zombies,” Heather said.
“And when Peter and I are certain that is the case, we’ll load up and get moving.”
“I had to open my big mouth.” Erin slumped forward in the cab, resting her arms on the dashboard. Everybody looked at her with varied expressions of puzzlement. “It’s like saying ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ or something like that.”
Peter shook his head and climbed out. As he and Kevin closed the doors, the sounds of crying and consolation drifted from the truck.
“That should keep them occupied while we search,” Kevin said with a wink.
Peter chuckled and unslung the rifle from his shoulder. Kevin drew a well-used hand axe, and the two walked cautiously up to the mostly-intact barrier. All of the dead bodies seemed to be just exactly that: dead.
“What do you think happened here?” Peter asked.
Kevin scanned the area as he stepped around a pile of sand bags. Brass casings littered the area, but there was no sign of a machinegun. Two long-since-dead soldiers lay slumped over amidst the debris. He turned one of the bodies over with the toe of his boot. The killing bullet had ripped a hole in the young man’s throat.
“I don’t have a clue.” Kevin knelt down to get a closer look. “These guys were shot. No signs of bites anywhere.” He got up and moved over to a civilian. “Same here. This guy was shot, but he wasn’t bitten or scratched by anything.”
Together, the two moved through the carnage. The vehicles had been hit by powerful ordinance. The lone tank looked to have taken several hits from RPGs. Soldiers and civilians lay dead, side by side, giving the indication that they were fighting together against a common enemy.
“Kevin, check this out,” Peter called. He was in the ragged remnants of a field tent. It looked like it had been a communications center. None of the equipment looked worth a damn due to weather and weapons. However, Peter held a black binder in his hands and was flipping through plastic-coated pages. Kevin stepped over the body of an older man with a silver eagle insignia pinned to the cap that was welded to his head by all the dried blood.
“Whatcha got?” Kevin asked.
“The answer to at least one prayer.” Peter handed the binder to the other man.
Kevin took it and began flipping through the pages. He quickly recognized the Google logo in the lower right hand corner. Peter reached over and flipped forward a couple of pages.
“My guess is that we are right there.”
“This is the entire area,” Kevin said as he slowly turned the pages. “And I bet we can figure that these heavy green markings indicate other outposts or roadblocks. This is almost a gold mine!”
“Almost?” Peter raised an eyebrow.
“It’s like having the cheat book for a video game; we know where the treasure is,” Kevin paused. Almost on cue, a body lumbered towards them from behind the burned out wreckage of a HumVee. “But it doesn’t guarantee that you will beat the monster guarding it.”
Handing the binder back to Peter, he advanced on the undead soldier. This one had a bullet hole in its left cheek. Its head tilted back and to the right where the back of its neck had been blown out. He briefly wondered if the shooter had fallen victim to the ghoul after landing the headshot that proved to only be a near miss. With an overhand swing, he brought his axe down and buried it in the crown of the zombie’s skull.
“So,” Peter walked up as Kevin was wiping off the axe head on a flap of the soldier’s jacket, “I say we find a spot and take the time to really plot our course. This binder will help us to avoid any concentrations of potentially populated areas.”
“Let’s go tell the girls,” Kevin agreed.
Clearing the house proved not to be an issue. In one large bedroom, all of the occupants—according to the enormous family portrait hanging above the granite fireplace—were accounted for. Two teenaged boys and a young girl, no older than five, lay on the bed with an empty bottle of pills on the nightstand. Each had a large, plastic bag over their head. A woman was sitting in a nearby rocking chair in the same state; her hand was locked eternally on that of the little girl’s. Another body, presumably the father, was in the bathroom just off the master bedroom suite. He had stepped into the tub and blown his brains out with a double-barrel shotgun. Most of his head decorated the tiles from waist high all the way up to the ceiling.
“That’s The Basket.” Peter pointed to a building on the map. “If we stay with the river and cut through here, we come out in what looks like a lot of open farmland.”
“I had no idea that there were so many residential areas,” Kevin said shaking his head.
“Is that a problem?” Heather asked, trying to look over the shoulders of the two men as they sat huddled at the kitchen table.
“It could be.” Kevin glanced up at the girl. She had an intent, serious expression on her face and seemed genuinely interested in all the talks about logistics between the two men. This was the polar opposite of Erin and Shari. Once they’d arrived and made sure that the house was secure, both girls had found an empty bed and climbed in. With Erin it was understandable; her being so close to delivering a baby and all.
“I don’t understand,” Heather said, moving to the other side of the table where she could at least see, even if everything would be upside down.
“Each of the residences has to be considered a threat, potentially holding one or more zombies. Apartment complexes are even more dangerous,” Kevin explained. “The zombies out and about aren’t as scary. We know about them. Also, they’ve been on the move and have dispersed. The ones still inside could be a problem. We won’t know they are there until we actually see them.”
“Is that your nice way of saying that we aren’t ever going to catch a break?” Heather sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“Yep.”
“So here,” Peter pointed to a spot on the glossy Google Earth picture causing Kevin and Heather to lean in, “is the possible military outpost closest to our current location.”
The two continued to mumble about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ as they poured over the maps. Heather got up and wandered into the kitchen. The lingering smell of rot hung in the air even though they’d opened the windows. She grabbed a can of tomato soup, a bowl, and a bottle of water. Sliding into the breakfast nook that jutted off the kitchen and had windows on all three sides that looked out into what had once been a beautifully landscaped back yard, she turned to the task of making lunch. Her eyes drifted to the wooded hills that bordered the back of the property.
As she poured the congealed soup mixture into the bowl and began smashing and stirring, her eyes kept catching hints of movement in the distant trees on the hill. At first she dismissed it as an over-active imagination and paranoia. Mix that in with fatigue and the shadows playing in the late afternoon sun, and it was a perfect combination.
Satisfied that she’d finally mixed the soup as well as could be hoped for, Heather scooped a lumpy mouthful and swallowed. Her eyes blinked twice, and this time she was certain that she’d seen movement. Somebody…or something…was in those woods.
“Kevin?” Heather called as loudly as
she dared, suddenly very self-conscious about noise levels.
“Yeah?” he answered from the dining room, his voice indicating that he was only answering perfunctorily.
“Somebody’s out back!”
The sounds of chairs scooting on the hardwood floor were followed by fast-approaching footsteps. Kevin and Peter both had pistols drawn and were looking around like they expected to be ambushed right there in the kitchen. Heather pointed to where she’d last seen movement.
Peter corrected his search a little to the left, following Heather’s pointing finger. “There!” he announced.
“I don’t think it’s a zombie,” Kevin muttered, heading for the door. “And I’m willing to bet that they know that we are here.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Heather scooted out from the breakfast nook.
“I am going out there to find out who our visitor is and what they intend,” Kevin stated. “And youare gonna stay here with Peter and cover me. Peter,” he looked over at the man, finished with any debate Heather might have had in mind, “I need you upstairs on a window with a view keeping me in sight with that 30.06 we have. The scope is sighted and ready for action so just keep me in your sights and adjust on this stranger when we get close.” The man nodded and headed for the stairs. “As for you,” he returned his attention to Heather, “I want you at the door with the .45. If they are meaning us harm and I have to run for it, you just start shooting. Aim for the body if you see anybody. These aren’t zombies so a headshot isn’t necessary. We’ve been aiming for the head for so long, you might try to do so on instinct. A body shot is all you need.”
“Okay,” Heather said with a sullen nod. She felt a new fear spike up inside her. She wasn’t sure if she could actually shoot a living, breathing person.
With that, Kevin headed out the door. He made his way across the overgrown back yard towards the fence and the tree line beyond. He made a big demonstration of holstering his weapon as he walked across the open ground between the house and the trees. Halfway there, he stopped.
After several nerve-wracking seconds, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows. It was dressed in head-to-toe camo, including a wide-brimmed bush hat equipped with a mesh camo veil. The figure held a shotgun—also camo—high above its head. Slowly and deliberately it slung the weapon over one shoulder and, with hands raised, began crossing the distance left to reach Kevin. At one point, the figure had to duck through some fencing and deliberately showed its back. About ten yards away, the figure stopped and pulled off the veiled hat. Kevin’s eyes widened just a bit.
“How many inside with you besides the one tracking me upstairs with the scoped rifle and the scared girl in the doorway?” the most beautiful girl Kevin believed he had ever seen—in person anyways—asked.
“Umm…” Kevin actually felt the saliva in his mouth dry up. He blinked his eyes, unable to look away or even attempt to disguise his staring. Her blonde hair hung in several pencil-thin braids and her blue eyes reminded him of a clear sky on a crisp autumn day. Her face was bronzed from the sun and, with absolutely no make-up, looked more radiant than even the most airbrushed centerfold model.
“Hey…you!” The woman snapped her fingers in front of Kevin’s face.
“Sorry.” Kevin shook his head and gathered himself. “You’re just so—”
“Yeah,” the blonde pressed her lips together in obvious disdain, “I’m pretty. Can we get past that and maybe you answer my question.”
“Two,” Kevin blurted, and instantly regretted it. If somebody were probing them for weakness, he’d just given away crucial information. She could be part of a large group and sent to act as a distraction for a possible attack. “What about you?” he asked hurriedly. “How many you got lurking out in the woods?”
“None.”
The word hung in the air and seemed as if the woman’s facial expression changed to one that dared him to challenge her response. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in discomfort at the growing silence, he did his best to try and maintain eye contact without looking like he was gawking.
“You gonna invite me in or,” she paused, and for the first time, Kevin noticed a hint of vulnerability, “are you gonna turn me away?”
“Excuse me?” Kevin asked, unaware that there had actually been a choice. “I’m sorry,” he bumbled, stepping aside and ushering her forward with his arm.
“My name is Aleah, like the Donnie Iris song,” she said, stepping forward and extending a hand to Kevin.
“Kevin Dreon…and I have no idea who Donnie Iris is.”
“You’re cute in an awkward sort of way.” Aleah patted his check as she walked past.
Kevin fell in beside Aleah, fighting the desire to look at her. My God, he thought, is she a model or something?Seriously, nobody is that beautiful.He couldn’t help but keep stealing glances. Even with her hair plastered down and dirty, no make-up, a heavy, unflattering jumpsuit, jacket, and boots, she was gorgeous.
“Y’all got any food?” Aleah asked, snapping his attention back from the precipice of fantasy.
“We do,” Kevin replied. “Some in a truck up the road a ways, and some in the house that we carried with us.”
“You were the ones in the military truck?”
“Yep.”
“That’s actually a big relief,” Aleah said with a sigh. “I was worried that those psychos over at the giant picnic basket building had branched out in this direction.”
“You know about Shaw and his men?” Kevin stopped and turned to face Aleah.
“Well, I saw you guys when you arrived at the house—”
“Then why did you ask how many of us there were?” Kevin interrupted.
“To see if you lied.”
“And if I’d lied?”
“At the least, I would’ve left.” She didn’t have to say what her ‘at the most’ choice was. It was clear in her eyes and the tone of her voice. “I waited to see if I heard any screams,” she said after a slight pause. “When I didn’t, I moved around a bit to see if somebody came to investigate. You guys aren’t very observant by the way.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, well all it takes is one screw up and you’re toast.”
“Where are you from?” Kevin asked, changing the subject. He could hear something in her inflection that he couldn’t quite place.
“Maine.”
“You walked from Maine?” Kevin gasped.
“Uhh…no,” Aleah said with a laugh. “My plane crashed somewhere in Tennesee.”
“Wow!” Kevin was truly impressed.
“It’s not all that exciting, really. We went down in some dark, swampy area. Five of us made it out.”
“Where did they all go? Or do I ask?”
“One of them was bitten,” Aleah whispered. “She was attacked the first day. I didn’t even really get to know her. The others, well, we all had our own destinations. It was early on and the whole denial thing was still prominent.”
“And you’ve been on your own for the whole time?” Kevin’s tone bordered on reverent.
“Most of it.” A dark look flashed across Aleah’s face. “I met this lady named Millie Peters. We were scavenging for food in a town not far from here when this convoy rolled in—”
“Shaw,” Kevin spat.
“Militant, goonish, mocha skin, shaved head with an obscenely straight and thin beard along the contour of his square jaw?” Aleah ticked off the description on her fingers.
“I never got that close,” Kevin admitted.
He really wanted to avoid the part about how he hid on top of an RV park bathroom while Shaw shot one of his best friends at point-blank range and kidnapped four females that had been in his company.
“Yeah, well, Millie never had a chance…” Aleah’s voice grew distant and faded with a choked sob. After a moment, she continued. “I’ve been kinda hopin’ to get a shot at those bastards. Saw ‘em a while back. They were rolling into that town we�
��d been passing through when they snatched Millie. I was in the cellar of this house when someone else got ‘em. Blew ‘em straight to hell.”
“That was me…errr…us,” Kevin said in a bumbling rush. “We rigged—”
“You’re the one that blew up that convoy and burned that town to the ground?” Aleah said with more than a little skepticism.
“Yes,” Kevin said slowly, unsure about the tone in Aleah’s voice. Then there was that whole ‘burned that town to the ground’ comment.
Without warning, Aleah threw her arms around Kevin’s neck and kissed him. After several seconds, she let go and stepped back with a smile. Kevin stood frozen, dumbfounded.
“I swore I’d plant one on the person that did that,” Aleah explained patting Kevin on the shoulder. “Now take me up there to your group and introduce me before they think I’m crazy.”
Kevin shook his head to clear it and led the way. Although, if you asked him later, he couldn’t actually remember doing so. As they reached the house, Heather stepped off the porch. She’d already holstered her weapon and had her arms folded across her body.
“I didn’t think you two were ever going to come back to the house,” Heather scolded. Kevin mumbled something unintelligible and stepped from between the two females.
“Hi, I’m Aleah,” the new arrival said, extending a hand to Heather. “Aleah Brock.”
“Heather Godwin.” The younger girl accepted the handshake and glanced at Kevin. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve met Kevin, come in and meet the others.” She stepped aside and ushered Aleah through the door. Kevin remained on the porch with a dreamy-but-dazed look on his face. “Never mind him.” Heather gave a dismissive wave at the man that continued to stand on the porch, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
