“Yep.”
They were now within a few hundred yards, hiding in the dark. They crouched behind some brush to survey the scene. Figures were still moving about the fire, seemingly unconcerned about their surroundings.
“Man, what are they doing?”
“I don’t know. It’s strange.”
“I don’t think they’re human.”
They didn’t appear human, their motions jerky in the normal brainless way of a walker. Obevens left the safety of the scrub and moved in closer to the fire to get a better look. Tock protested, but then followed.
“Walkers tied to posts around the bonfire,” Obevens noted.
“Well, they don’t want the train coming through, whatever it’s for. Should we go clear it out?”
Obevens looked at Tock. “How?”
Tock shrugged his shoulders.
The silence of the night was suddenly punctuated by rapid gunshots back at the train. Bullets hitting and piercing the thin metal exterior caught the walkers’ attention and they pulled against their stakes.
The two men looked back at the train and saw the flashes of multiple rifles shooting at the train. Some shots came back from the train, but nowhere near the barrage unleashed upon it.
A minute after it had begun it stopped. Obevens and Tock were completely still, unseen in the night. They heard shouts back at the train and a woman’s voice. Obevens’ heart dropped. Could it be Sara? Had she somehow tracked him down? The female voice began crying louder, in Spanish, though. She sounded happy.
“What is going on?!” Tock whispered to Obevens.
“No clue, but stay put until we find out.”
Then the drums started. Raspy snare drums keeping a military marching beat. They were coming from the direction of the fire burning on the track, maybe a mile off. The marching drum beat was followed by the sound of thousands of voices shouting a word in Spanish. Then the sound of feet marching in unison followed.
“We need to get out of here,” Tock said urgently. Obevens agreed. They turned and quickly moved away from the track, staying low. The drums and the marching came closer. Tock and Obevens retreated deep into the brush to avoid the light of the marchers’ torches.
“Who are they?” Tock asked.
“I would guess the armies of Tenochtitlan, returning to liberate their city.”
Obevens was right. They were the armies of Tenochtitlan who’d finally managed to reach the vicinity of the capitol after leaving the fight against the northerners. It had taken time for news to reach them, and then time for them to cripple the Western Government’s depleted forces enough to disengage and head south. On the way, they’d received intelligence of a train transporting the kidnapped daughters of Tenochtitlan’s elite.
Tock and Obevens never learned what shipment they’d been protecting.
Chapter 15 – October 101 A.Z.
We’ve run out of test subjects and are no closer to a cure. Every hope has been a false one.
-Notes from Victoria studies on Zombie behavior
Sara had just finished her breakfast – products of her newly acquired coastal pigs and chickens – and was looking forward to a day spent at the beach free of administrative tasks. Relaxing, having her favorite cartel storyteller weave a yarn, or maybe even going wading in the water.
She’d earned it. It had been a difficult march here and she’d probably said the words “emotionally wrenching” a hundred times to the local residents as she kicked them out. This was part of the spiel she gave them, as if she empathized with them. In private though, she mocked.
“Cowards. Fight if you don’t want me taking your land.”
“They know, that you know, that they know, you’re simply stealing it from them,” Dalbec had said.
“I’m not sure what you just said, but please be quiet.”
The locals had considered fighting, and it would have been a bloody war of attrition. Scores would have died, and they would have ultimately lost. Many, though, had a feeling this Queen wasn’t going to last. When mentioning her they used a waving hand motion common to the meaning for something in the past. They were already talking about as a thing from the past. The winds were shifting, some said, and a small voice inside them said, “We’ll be back,” as they left their homes.
Everything at this locale was just what she wanted. Even the surroundings were everything she’d hoped. There was water, it was temperate, and conscripted farms and ranches supplied most of their wants – thus the ham and eggs of her breakfast. The city was probably only a couple square miles, but the agriculture land had yet to be fully surveyed. They were no signs of raiders, although it was still early, and most importantly, Tenochtitlan was strangely quiet.
Even EO-1 had worked splendidly, with much less resistance than anticipated. Contrary to the religious leaders’ description, the locals had left their coastal haven without a fight. Easy win.
Yet something wasn’t right.
I worry too much, she assured herself.
Her ability to pour over the details, consider every outcome, and analyze situations had served her well, she thought, but now she needed to learn to turn it off. Enjoy life. Bask in her accomplishments. Revel in the zombie-free life. Occasionally a twinge of regret at leaving her zombies behind hit her, worrying they would be harnessed and used against her. “Bah,” she said, “They’re terrible wranglers.” Besides, it was worth it – the risk – in order to like a zombie-free life.
Only, it wasn’t zombie-free. She continually received nagging reports of small groups of zombies approaching from the east.
“There are about two hundred, south of here, at the barrier. There are gaps at markers twelve, eighty…” a messenger was reporting to Dalbec. Sara listened from a chair nearby. They were inspecting the barrier. This was where her duties took her today. Too many days. The beach would have to wait.
“We need better materials to improve the barrier – branches, trees, and rocks aren’t doing the job,” the messenger relayed. “Or we just need those in much greater quantity than we have.” They were in a dirt patch near a reeking trash pile from the former residents. It covered a few empty lots and looked weeks old. She shook her head at their laziness.
Five walkers approached the section of barrier they were at and got hung up on the interwoven branches, breaking some of them. The soldiers went from walker to walker with clubs and smashed their skulls. Sure, there were only five at this location, but the probing of the barrier was happening at multiple locations at once.
“The existing barrier was adequate before, you are saying it doesn’t work now?” Sara asked sharply, holding a handkerchief to cover her mouth and nose as a gust of wind blew up a dust cloud.
“I don’t think they had to deal with as many walkers!” Dalbec said, looking at Sara almost angrily.
“What, you think this is my fault?” Sara said.
“I don’t know. I’m as confused as you are!”
“I’m not confused, Dalbec!” She stood up from her chair, but felt dizzy and sat down. She tried to cover it up, but Dalbec knew what had happened. The headaches had been increasing in frequency and severity.
Dalbec almost asked if she was okay, but some of the other men were in earshot. Another messenger approached.
“General Page, ma’am.”
“What about him?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.
“He’s here.”
General Page approached. Sara rolled her eyes. He needed a messenger to announce his arrival?
“Sara.”
“Page.”
The tension was obvious.
“Sara…May I ask a question?”
“You just did.”
He paused. “Permission to turn these walkers into geldings.”
“Denied.”
Page bit back his immediate response. After a moment, he tried again.
“Ma’am, that’s the only way to deter this continual probing.”
“Probing? Probing?! Zombies don’t ‘probe!�
� They attack! They don’t have the wherewithal to come up with the idea to ‘probe.’”
“What word would you prefer I use?”
Sara glared at him for a few moments, looking him right in the eye.
“They aren’t ‘probing’ our defenses. They just respond to stimulus. They are simply wandering into trouble.”
“Well, they’re wandering into our location on a daily basis, all arriving at the same time and at different locations along our defenses. When a hole in our barrier develops, they keep returning there until we’ve repaired it. When we fix it they spread out again until a new hole is found.”
“It’s true.” Dalbec nodded at Sara.
Sara squinted as she moved her hand languidly to her holstered pistol. “Wow, these must be the smartest zombies in the whole wide world. It’s like we’ve found a pocket of these ‘genius zombies’ that know how to do these amazing things. I think we should applaud this marvel of the zombie age. It’s truly a discovery.”
“We need to do something.”
“I’ve told you to build a wall,” Sara said, shaking the hair out of her face.
“It’s slow work, especially with attacks.”
“We have thousands of able bodied men here!” Sara exclaimed. “Use them!”
“Recreation passes have cut our workforce in half on any given day. Those not on leave don’t want to do manual labor…There’s talk…”
“There’s always talk. Men grumble.”
“This is different.”
“Then kill them. Kill every man who thinks they’re too good for work!”
Page looked at Sara with no expression on his face. He’d learned the value of having a blank expression at times like these. He knew he should say something – agree with her, counter her suggestion, or excuse himself. He couldn’t though, all he could do was stand there. He was too tired of this.
“We didn’t come here, Page, to string up walking corpses all around us. That is what we fought to escape. To do that…to string up geldings, means this was all for nothing.”
You said it, not me. Page thought to himself.
The morning passed, Sara laid down to rest and Dalbec toured the fence to survey the damage. It was noticeable to anyone who was paying attention that these zombies had a method to their madness. They were probing the fence, despite Sara’s objection to the language.
He also did another survey, in private. He went to the docks and noted how many functional boats were present. Dalbec queried the Academy men to find those with sailing experience and ordered a group to ready the boats for “fishing purposes.” That was a lie. He was preparing for an escape by sea if needed. There were only enough boats to transport maybe 50 or 60 people.
That would be enough. He started on a list of who those people would be.
“Zombies on the barrier!” The call went out again a few blocks down from where Dalbec was.
◆◆◆
“Aaarrrggh!!!” John cried out. It had been getting harder lately. The hunger. Anytime he came across any reddish rocks in the wilderness he’d greedily scoop at them, only to throw them aside. Not the right kind. The only ones that mattered were the red rocks with Sara. No matter how distracted he got, or unable to focus, his hunger always reminded him he needed those rocks. The only way to have those rocks was to go get them.
“I don’t want to go!” he would argue with himself. Maybe he was arguing with the virus. He wondered if that was possible.
The hunger would kick in again and remind him, though. It would remind him it owned him. He lost track of what was himself, and what was the need for the hunger to stop.
“I almost have enough,” he croaked as he looked through the trees around him. He didn’t have an exact count, but he knew he was surrounded by something like a hundred thousand walkers. Most were pulled from the herd, but a small fraction were those the army of Tenochtitlan had expelled from the city when they returned. These were the ones with spikes, hooks, and other grotesque instruments protruding from them. All the walkers stood still, gently swaying in the afternoon breeze. Panic struck his heart.
“What if they suddenly realize they don’t have to follow me? They would devour me…” he trailed off.
Some of the walkers turned to look at him. They began moving toward him, sensing this shift in his posture and mood. They sensed a weakness. As they approached, though, a fire rose up inside John’s chest.
“RAAAAHHHH!!!!!” he stomped toward the approaching walkers and roared at them. They halted.
“REMEMBER!!!” he screamed at them. His shouts seemed to reverberate through the herd around him. They were spread out into the countryside around him. He could feel their presence, almost, like a network of nerves all around him ready to receive stimulus and respond.
“Send a hundred to her again,” he said aloud. He couldn’t see his order executed, but knew it happened.
John didn’t want to go to the coast. So many people would die if he did. It wouldn’t just be Sara and her men, but all the villages they would trample along the way. That was why he’d put the rocks in Sara’s position – to force himself to attack her. His only relief, his only peace, was to go to those rocks. He would ultimately go to them no matter the collateral damage.
“I thought it wasn’t about revenge! I thought there was a cause! Your mind shifts, or is it your mind? I can’t tell if it’s mine or yours. Thoughts get in my head, and I can’t remember how long they’ve been there, where I end and you begin…”
He heard millions of voices shouting out, demanding justice from the humans. Punishment. Then the voices would calm and reason would set in, the goal should only be freedom. Then it went back to revenge. Peer had said John would control the herd, but he wasn’t sure who was controlling who. The only reason the herd was able to focus and achieve was because of John. The group mind was there, but without the infected yet still-alive human leader to focus and direct them, a leader who has their best interests at heart, not his personal agenda, they could never have embarked on this journey.
“When do we go?!” John demanded of the herd. He knew they would return an answer. He also knew what that answer would be. The real question was, would he follow it?
“You are fools!” he shouted. He knew their lives, he’d seen all of it flash through his mind as he took control of them.
He’d put them in two categories. Those he blamed for being bit, and those he didn’t fault. He felt bad for judging them, knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help it. He’d seen all their choices, all their thoughts and feelings, and all their motives in an instant. John reminded himself whose fault it was Mark had been bit. His.
He wished Mark was with him, as one of his herd. At least John could see him…
“No! He shouldn’t be here. I don’t want him to see what’s going to happen.”
◆◆◆
“It’s quiet today on the barrier, General Page. Maybe whatever brought them here has stopped?”
Page and one of his lieutenants were down near the water at Page’s headquarters. He had a palatial cabana with a second story deck overlooking the ocean. It was a pleasant, cool, morning. These pleasant mornings were common, he thought, almost diminishing their value.
“Maybe, but doubtful,” he responded to the lieutenant.
He squinted his eyes to look out on the water. Some fishing vessels were off the coast. Not local.
“We need a plan to patrol our coastline. We don’t know who could come in from the water. I understand the pressing concern is the constant stream of walkers approaching from the land, but we have no clue who is out there,” Page pointed toward the ocean.
“Agreed, but Miss Academy is adamant that building a wall be top priority.”
Page thought to himself, Top priority? Along with food production, executions, entertainment…when everything is a priority, nothing is. He sipped his guava to cover his anger. “We need stricter work schedules, then. Once we’re secure, then we can rest. Contin
ually describing this place as paradise has done little to prepare the men for the required work.”
“We’ve had more desertions. Fifty-two men.”
“Our response must be severe, or that number will grow,” Page took another sip. He wondered if the local chef they kept on staff was sneaking feces in it. He’d had some stomach issues lately.
“Some men claim these numbers didn’t desert, but were lured in and swallowed by the jungle walkers.”
“Okay…Conduct an investigation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That is all…unless you have something else.”
The Lieutenant hesitated. “Well, Sir, if I may…”
“Yes?” Page had a feeling he knew what was coming.
“There is a lot of talk. A lot of talk about Miss Academy. There are concerns. Concerns about her judgement, mostly, but also concerns about her health…The men are unsure whether she’s fit to lead.”
Page eyed the man carefully. It was imperative he did not betray his identical thoughts on the matter.
Unless.
Maybe betraying his thoughts was his best course of action.
“Lieutenant, such talk is dangerous.”
“Understood. That is why I’m bringing this to your attention.”
Page considered the man. He remembered when he chose him as one of his top lieutenants. It was shortly after Bowen was executed. This man had fought valiantly and led many in keeping the geldings in place while the herd attacked their position in the zombie fields next to Lake Texcoco. There was no point in informing on him. He would just be executed. It would be a waste. What he said wasn’t even traitorous, he was simply a good soldier pointing out a major problem in the ranks. He was looking to Page to fix the problem.
The problem was that Page didn’t know how to fix the problem.
“Lieutenant. Do you remember what I told you when I chose you for this job? I said that I chose you for this post because you were brave. You are still brave, but your position now requires a different sort of bravery. Your job isn’t so much to kill zombies or foreign armies; your job is to keep this army functioning. Right now, your best way of doing that is to keep any personal doubts to yourself.”
100 A.Z. (Book 3): The Mountain Page 11
