by T. W. Brown
Dustin chewed his lower lip in thought for a few seconds. Scott took that hesitation as the man not wanting to part with the horses.
“Hey, I totally understand,” Scott broke the uncomfortable silence. “Those horses are pretty valuable. I guess I wouldn’t want to part with them either.”
“Huh?” Dustin’s eyes refocused and his head popped up. “Oh…no…that’s not it at all. I was just thinking about Brett. I just realized that I haven’t seen him much since a few days before I left with your dad to find Ronni. This started a while ago…not just recently.”
Now it was Ronni and Scott’s turn to stand silently. They had no idea what the man was getting at. The voice of Virgil Snead’s son had reached a rather peculiar pitch. To Ronni, it sounded like somebody who was making fun of some Deep South preacher. When he said the word “Lo” in his recitation, it was turned into two syllables and sounded like “low-ah!”
“Listen…” Dustin began slowly, “I don’t want you guys to leave here. Your dad is a great man, and each of you has stepped right in and become a part of things. I think there is another way.”
“Short of killing these kooks—” Scott started with a laugh, but it died on his lips when he saw Dustin’s expression. “Wait…do you mean…”
“That is exactly what I mean.” Dustin’s countenance had clouded over again, and the storm in his eyes was threatening to burst forth. “When I started this place, I had some far-reaching ideas, but things happened that opened my eyes. The time for being a radical is long gone. We need to think about trying to survive and make a life for ourselves…a future.
“Like you both already said, it is just a matter of time before something pops off here. Why should we wait for this minority to strike? We have a few ideas as to who this is, and I say we consider Brett a part of the problem. If we get a group of individuals together that we can definitely trust, I say we hit them tonight.”
“You heard ‘em, folks,” a voice called from up in the open door of the big barn’s hayloft. “Now grab ‘em!”
***
Jody spun to discover that they were actually surrounded. Figures emerged from the tall grass and brush from every side. Movement out of the corner of his eye forced him to glance at one of the upstairs windows of the farmhouse. A dark shadow filled the open rectangle. They had walked right into a trap!
“Sergeant Rafe,” a voice called with a good-natured laugh, “so nice to see you.”
“Fucking Pitts,” Danny muttered.
“Sergeant Pitts,” Jody returned the hail and shot Danny a murderous glance that warned him to keep his mouth shut. “Looks like maybe you folks had some trouble?”
The sergeant stepped out onto the porch of the house, the busted in door making him have to take a long stride to get past the debris that he had obviously taken great pains not to disturb. Jody was tired of the sick feeling that seemed to hit him in the gut almost every day.
“Trouble?” the sergeant asked with a nonchalant casualness that caught Jody off guard. “Oh…you mean the fires! No…no trouble at all.”
Jody was not only confused, but he was becoming more than a little frustrated. There was certainly something going on here that he was not privy to; he just wished that Sergeant Pitts would quit the games.
“I was told that there were a series of explosions early this morning before sunrise. When dawn broke, we could make out at least five very distinct pillars of black smoke. That indicated to us that there might be a problem.” Jody took a few steps toward where the sergeant still stood up on the porch looking down on him and his group.
“And you were correct in your observations.”
The sergeant produced a cigar and cut the end, shoved it into his mouth and took his time to light it; puffs of smoke billowing from his mouth as he primed the stogie and got the end to burn with a bright cherry. He brought it from between his lips and took a few seconds to regard it before jamming it back into the corner of his mouth.
This is all a freaking show, Jody thought. His anger was building and it took all of his control not to make a try at putting one of his precious bullets in this man’s face. Something was wrong here, and he was finding that his curiosity had vanished. It was replaced by annoyance that was blossoming into a robust anger and hatred for Sergeant Bill Pitts.
“You are to be commended, Sergeant Rafe,” Pitts said around his cigar as he came to the edge of the porch. “You see…there were some back at our community that did not hold you and yours in very high regard. They felt that you all would turn on us the first chance that you got.
“Yet, here you are, not arriving to swoop in and mop up our remains, you come here to check on our well-being. That shows me that perhaps there is hope that we can be allies…friends even.”
“You ever read the story of the boy who cried wolf?” Danny blurted.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Sullivan,” Sergeant Pitts said with a chuckle. “And yes, I am familiar with the tale. However, you must understand that a rather sizeable faction of my people thought that we should either force you to evacuate your location, surrender your women, and either be executed or put to work as forced labor in our compound. I sought only to prove that there is more benefit in having you as an ally, but first I had to demonstrate your intentions.”
“And what makes you think that we were not coming to “mop up your remains” as you put it?” Jody snapped. He was siding with Danny on this…even if it got him killed.
“Margarita.” Pitts gave a nod.
Jody glanced at the woman and then back to Sergeant Pitts. He was still obviously missing something. “Yeah? What about her?”
“For one, she is with you,” the sergeant answered, gesturing for the woman to come and join him. “For another, she is not wearing the white baseball cap that she had stored in her things. I assure you, had she been wearing it, we would not be having this conversation. You all would have been shot as soon as you arrived.”
“And what made you so sure that we would arrive at this exact location?”
“Because we herded you this way using some of the zombies that were attracted to our little display. Also, I am assuming that Margarita was walking somewhere in the front of your formation. It is a very easy thing for a person to creep ahead just a tad and for a short period of time. In that few moments, it is very easy to get those following to alter their course just slightly.” The sergeant extended a hand and brought Margarita up alongside him.
“And if she had been pregnant?” Jody retorted. He knew the answer before Sergeant Pitts could even get it out of his mouth.
“The woman is unable to get pregnant.”
Danny started to chuckle. Then he had his hands on his knees to keep from falling. His laughter was loud, long, and just a bit contagious. Jody snickered, and even a few of Pitts’ men started to join in despite not having any clue as to why.
“You want to share what is so funny?” Pitts finally asked.
Jody shot a look at George Rosamilia who was turning a deep shade of red. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Jody could not tell, but the man’s expression was one that he thought he might cherish for a long time.
Margarita whispered something in the ear of Sergeant Pitts. In no time, the man was joining in the laughter.
***
“It’s locked!” Deanna cried.
She looked down and from her vantage, she could see over the rail. Zombies were coming up the stairs. They were filling it, and there was absolutely no way that they could get down. They would be torn apart.
“Here,” Sean rasped.
He handed up his belt knife. That represented their other problem. In all of the events that had transpired, Deanna had absolutely no weapons with which to defend herself.
“What do I do with this?” she asked. She could not keep her eyes off of the zombies coming up the stairs.
“These locks are shit,” Sean said with what was a mix between a sob and a laugh. “Just wedge the knife i
n and give it a jiggle. You will undo the latch…no problem.”
Deanna was really studying Sean. He was clutching his hand to his body and blood was everywhere. His skin was starting to turn a sickly yellow and sweat covered his face. But there was something else. When he looked up at her and she could see his eyes…she saw it. He was as good as dead. He slumped against the wall and sighed a deep sickly sound.
Hurry up,” he slurred, his voice barely a whisper now. “I can feel them getting closer.”
Deanna turned to the task and shoved the blade in the seam right by the lock. She tugged and pushed. It would figure, she had gotten the one apartment in the projects that had a maintenance man who did his job. She was about to give up. She knew that the zombies were close. Maybe they could take their chances with what was beyond the door that led to the fifth floor apartments. Sure, there was something banging on the other side…but…
Snick.
“I did it!” Deanna squealed.
She reached up and shoved the hatch open. It finally tipped and fell with a clang to reveal the late afternoon sky. Looking down, Deanna almost lost her grip on the ladder. The zombies had reached the landing. But worse than that, the undead face of Sean looked up at her, mouth open, long strand of dark drool slipping from the corner of its mouth.
Before she could snap out of it and act, the boy grabbed her ankle. She turned and tried to climb, but a tug almost brought her to instant death and the mob waiting below. Maybe that would have been better.
Deanna felt something, but she kicked and broke free. Climbing up, she grabbed the hatch and flipped it shut. It closed with a metal clang that seemed to echo through all of Chicago’s Southside.
Looking around, she was on a roof. She had no food, no water, and a knife with a broken blade that would be next to useless. Looking down, she realized that she had one more problem.
Blood was pooling around her left foot. Sean had gotten her. Deanna dropped to her knees and cried. It was over.
It was nearing dark when the figure rose. With slow unsteady steps, it wandered about for a few seconds with no apparent sense of direction. Sensations thrummed and the small creature cocked its head in jerky fits. Orienting on the source of sound, it started forward.
The creature had no sense of fear as it approached the ledge. It paid no heed when its feet tripped over the small six-inch lip at the edge of the roof. It plummeted to earth…unaware that a pair of eyes was watching.
Catie wiped away a tear. At least she would not have to wonder. Deanna was dead. She could care less about Sean, but she doubted that he made it. Turning, she gritted her teeth. She felt lousy and now her heart ached, but she needed to find Kevin. The hard thing would be whether or not she would tell him. One thing was for certain, she did not think she could tell the girl Rose. That girl was far too emotional. She would probably do something stupid.
13
Geeks Making Tracks
Jose Reyes, Manuel Rodriguez, Jane Mendel and Kevin slipped through the gap in the wall. Of course, calling it a wall was perhaps giving it a bit more credit than it deserved. This construction had obviously been done post-zombie uprising. It was a ramshackle bit of work done by people who apparently had little to no experience with a hammer.
Chicago was finally becoming a distant memory. There had been more than a few close calls, and Kevin was surprised on a couple of fronts. First was the fact that the small group from that immune compound had voted unanimously to join him and his group. Second, they had not lost a soul during the remainder of the exodus from the Windy City. Not that there hadn’t been close scrapes…but everybody was still alive and mobile.
They had slipped out using Highway 38 headed west. Things had been hairy until they passed a small development called Elburn. Kevin had not missed the graffiti on the lone water tower near the middle of town.
“GET OUT NOW!”, “NONE ALIVE”, and “R-I-P ELBURN” were the messages painted with the biggest letters. There were other similar things scrawled on the tower, but they all said the same thing. Judging by what they could see of some of the houses closest to the main highway, these people had tried to flee way too late and as a whole. There were numerous multi-car wrecks clogging many of the streets. He could only suppose how it had gone down, but he found he simply did not care.
After almost a week on the road where they had only been able to average around ten miles a day due to an unusually high number of roaming herds sweeping through, the group was forced to seek places to hide sometimes for up to four or five hours at a time, they had spied the community of Maple Park—or what was left of it.
A large farmhouse just to the east had provided a place to spend the night and allow everybody else to rest while Maple Park was investigated. There had been a small fuss over who was being allowed to make the run, but Kevin solved that by drawing straws. Originally he had only planned on it being a trio, but when both Jose and Manuel drew the short straws, Jane was added so that they could all communicate.
After it was made clear that the rest of the group needed to scour what had obviously been a road side produce stand run by the owners of the big house, Kevin and his team set out for the town of Maple Park. If he had known the wall was in such bad shape, he might have simply brought the entire group along. His concern was that this might be a community of survivors. Obviously that was not the case.
Jane was the last one through, and her scowl was evident as she took in their immediate surroundings. Already there were at least a dozen zombies headed their way.
“How long you think these people lasted?” Jane asked Kevin as she drew her field machete from its leather sheath.
“Maybe until winter,” Kevin replied as he pulled the sturdy three foot blade that he’d liberated from a zombie biker a few days prior.
Without another word, the foursome waded in and dropped the zombies that had drawn near. They kept silent, not wanting to draw the attention of the entire place—however many that might be was anybody’s guess. Jose killed the last with his fisherman’s spike. Kevin marveled at how adept and agile the man was for his size. He looked like he should barely be able to move, much less spin and whirl the way he did in combat.
“From the looks of it, they moved everybody into this section and walled it off. The development just across that field to the northeast looks almost identical to this one,” Jane observed as they moved to the first house.
In less than an hour, they had discovered a wide variety of supplies including one house that looked to have been used solely as storage for canned goods. Shelves packed with Mason jars lined every wall and were set in rows filling each room.
“Wonder how it went bad?” Jane said, translating for Jose who was twisting the lid off a jar of pickles.
“Besides the piss poor fence?” Kevin emerged from a large room that had probably been a family room before it had been converted to storage. “If I had to guess, I would say they just got sloppy. All it takes is one person to come back from a run with a bite or scratch…” His voice trailed off as he remembered how Mike died and came back. “I don’t see any signs that these people were using protection like goggles or face shields. There are more ways to become infected than just the bite.”
“I guess it just sort of slips your mind,” Jane admitted. “Being immune, I stopped worrying about the small stuff. As long as I didn’t get torn apart and eaten, I guess I figured I was okay.”
“Yeah, and these people could have had a few that were immune.” He sighed and shook his head. “Who knows…and really…who cares. It is what it is.”
“Pessimistic much?” Jane quipped.
“It has nothing to do with being pessimistic. But it does no good to suppose any more. I am sure that we will encounter plenty of things along the way. We might think we can figure out what happened, but it serves no purpose. Our sole focus needs to be on getting to our destination and setting up a home. We have gardens to plant, and every day we spend on the road puts us just that much fur
ther behind.”
Jane translated as Kevin headed for the front door. Already another wave of undead had somehow discovered the presence of living beings and moved in. Kevin paused and held his hand up to stop the rest of the group from attacking.
“Head for the fence…NOW!” Kevin insisted.
“It’s just a few—” Jane began, but Kevin shut her down.
“Move! Don’t stop until you are through that damn wall!” To emphasize his point, he gave her a none-too-gentle shove. Jose and Manuel glanced from Jane to Kevin with confused expressions. Jane said something and everybody took off at a sprint. Kevin reached the wall first, but he stopped and helped everybody get through, holding the loose section out to make it easier. The entire time, his eyes were looking back.
The cross street about a half of a block from the house they’d been searching was the focus of his stare. Standing in a cluster were at least twenty zombies.
Children.
He had caught sight of them when a few had emerged from behind some shrubs that ran the length of one house’s front yard as a divider between the house and the street. That had set off his alarm, but when several more emerged from across the street, and then even more from the house sitting kitty corner, he knew. They were waiting.
Quoting his favorite line by Admiral Akbar, Kevin uttered, “It’s a trap!”
“What are you talking about?” Jane asked as the foursome jogged back up the highway to where the group was waiting.
He explained some of his observations involving the child zombies. Jane actually made him tell her in small amounts so that she could relate what he was saying to Jose and Manuel. When he finished, both men suddenly began speaking rapidly and making lots of exaggerated gestures; so much so that they had stopped running and were now simply walking down the middle of the highway towards the roadside farmhouse. At one point he swore he heard the words Jurassic Park spoken by both men.
