Alice screamed as she flew out into open, the momentum of Carson’s throw spinning her body around as she tumbled through the air. She screamed all the way down until the ground rushed up to meet her and broke her life on the jagged rocks she had caused to fall on her own people.
Carson looked at his cronies, the few men who were smart enough to stay on his good side. “I hate traitors,” he said with a grin.
Down below, Casey walked slowly over to the broken body of Alice. She was lying on her back on top of a pile of rocks, adding her blood to the pool beneath her. Her head had cracked open on impact, and her lifeless eyes stared up at the cliffs she hated so much.
“She ratted us out. Trying to save herself, she ratted us out, and killed four good men,” Casey said to the group who gathered to look at what had happened. “Guess she got what she deserved.”
Several nods around the group formed a consensus with Casey’s judgment.
“What do we do now?” The question gave voice to the thought everyone was having at the same time.
Casey shook her head. “If John doesn’t get here soon, we’re going to do one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“Die.”
Up on the cliff, Luke Blacktail had watched Carson murder that woman without so much as a second thought. He had killed in a similar fashion when he cut the rope that had carried the intruder’s commander. That death was necessary, as it kept the people below leaderless and running in circles. As long as they kept this group under control then no one could come back and claim them. In a few months, when the winter snows melted and flooded the canyon, all of their troubles would be swept away through that cave on the canyon floor.
Luke left the rim and headed back towards the main lodge. He knew he had to inform Cole of what transpired, and he was curious as to how their leader would take the information. Carson had thrown that woman over the cliff without so much as a flicker of conscience, and that might be a very bad thing in the future for the community. Luke often had pangs of guilt, wondering if there could have been another way. But in the end, he had to admit to himself he was more afraid of Cole Hobbes than he was of his own conscience.
At the lodge, Luke found Cole standing in the meeting room looking out one of the windows. The view was nothing much, just a lane of houses, so Luke knew Cole was just thinking.
“Cole.”
Hobbes turned his head, but didn’t say a word.
“It’s done. Carson collapsed the rock face onto the tunnel the people were making. Turns out that woman was correct. You were right to try and recruit someone to turn,” Luke said.
Cole gave Luke a half smile. “And what did Carson do with the woman?” he asked, turning back to look out the window.
Luke gave the story straight. “He made her think she could walk away, then he threw her over the edge of the canyon. She’s dead.”
Cole turned his head again. “How did Carson handle that?” he asked.
“Honestly?”
“I don’t have patience for anything else.”
“I got the feeling he enjoyed it,” Blacktail said.
Cole nodded slowly, losing himself in his thoughts for a moment. Luke began to edge away and start for the door when Cole’s voice stopped him.
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is he learned from his mistake and knows now to act when he needs to. He’ll do well when he takes over here,” Cole said.
Luke thought a minute about that, and realized that the words Darnell spoke that night were ringing more true every day. Cole was making this a monarchy. And with his push to the lands to the east, he was going to be the ruler of an area bigger than most European countries. Already he was thinking about succession.
“We’ll see,” Luke said.
Cole turned his head fully. “What do you mean by that?”
Luke shook his head. “I got a feeling something is headed our way, boss. Something that will not stop no matter what we put up in front of it.”
Cole smirked. “Old Indian feeling? Don’t believe in that superstitious nonsense myself.”
Blacktail kept his face impassive. “Neither did I, until I made a ghost out of that commander. Mark my words, Cole. Something’s headed our way.”
Montana, Route 12
“Is this the turn off?”
“It’s what Darnell said and what’s on the map.”
“But there’s no road.”
“Map says there is.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Well, here goes nothing. If we get stuck…”
“We’ll dig out and try again. Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Are, too.”
“Am not! I’m telling!”
Despite his protests, Charlie turned the truck down the snow-covered road. In all fairness, there was a road we could see, it was just coated with about six inches of snow that was just waiting to attach to our tires and spin us off into the trees of off a cliff. A small sign labeled the road as Spring Creek, so we were actually on track. Behind us a huge bank of hills began to fade away while ahead of us loomed some really big mountains. I wasn’t even sure what mountains we were headed into, but this was the road we needed.
Spring Creek road was a smaller run off of a small run off road in the middle of God alone knew where. The further we drove into the hills, the more I wondered how in the name of all that’s holy did an entire third of a sizeable army get so freaking lost?
“Is this road even on the map?” Charlie asked as he concentrated on the road. He was trying to distinguish between light and slightly darker shades of snow to determine where the road was. For the first mile it was easy, just drive between the fence and the bushes. But as we went further into the hills, the terrain grew decidedly more difficult.
Cheyenne wasn’t helping much. She stayed curled up on the seat, or she would burst into fits of adoration and try to lick Charlie’s face while he drove. On a clear road, that wasn’t a problem. On a snow-covered one like this, more of a problem. When she did that, I had to rescue Charlie, which meant I had to control a wiggly bundle of energy determined to cover my face in dog slobber. She’d act up, and then curl back up on the seat with her head on Charlie’s leg. It was a process that we went through on a routine basis.
The hills rose up sharply and suddenly on our right while the land to our left began to fall away. Rock faces that went straight up told me this road wasn’t part of the natural landscape but had been cut, carved, and blasted through here.
Within another mile, however, the sides of the road reversed themselves and we saw hills rising on our left while the land tapered away on our right. If we could go fast through here, the changes would likely be dizzying. Pines trees rose like sentinels, crowding the road and making it difficult to see around the bend.
The road twisted around the hills and stayed in the valley for the most part. The hills grew the farther we made our way into the wilderness and finally reached the height of what I would call serious mountains.
“Problem,” Charlie said.
“I see it. Good time to get out, and let Cheyenne have a run. I’ll take this one; you get the next one,” I said.
“Deal.” Charlie brought the truck to a stop and we both got out. Cheyenne bounced out with Charlie and immediately jumped through the snow. She ran for a bit on one of the trails then squatted down. A short minute later, she was off again, being followed by a very large human who had a tough time keeping up with her.
For my part, I pulled a large-bladed snow shovel out of the back of the truck and went to work on the very large drift that was blocking the road. Most of the time we could just work out way through them, but this one was big enough to cause some problems.
An hour later, I had cut the drift down enough to where we could safely drive through. I was in my shirtsleeves having ditched my coat a while ago as I heated up from the exercise. I was putting the snow shovel away
when I saw him. He was walking slowly down the road, limping slightly as he came. He was ragged from the elements, and there wasn’t much of him left. One arm was mostly bone, and the other was missing from the elbow down. His entire lower jaw hung loose, and his tongue waved around the air like a questing snake. He really was one of the worst zombies I had seen in a while.
I didn’t bother with any extra weapons; I was still wearing my Glock and my knife. I walked out to meet the ghoul, still carrying the snow shovel. It was a good metal one with an old fashioned curved blade model with the long straight handle guaranteed to give you back trouble.
The zombie let out this gurgling noise that was amazingly disgusting. Close up, he was actually worse than before. He raised both arms and tried to advance more quickly through the snow. I used the extra length of the snow shovel and swung the heavy blade in a sweeping arc that connected with his head right above the ear. The blade crashed through its head and literally took the entire top half of his head off. The head flew off into the trees while the rest of him stood there for a second—just a top half of his mouth and big tongue muscle.
The body crumpled down, and I used the blade to push it off the road. Next I had to go find the rest of the head, which was easy to do since it was sitting on a pile of pine trees. I was shocked to find it still alive considering the trauma I had done to it, but the eyes watched my approach and stared at me while I took a second swing and caved in the top of the skull. The eyes were dead after that.
I went back to the truck and stowed the shovel. I was cooling down, so I put my coat back on while I watched Charlie return with Cheyenne. The little beagle was riding in Charlie’s arm, wagging her tail, and acting like she was still looking for trouble. Charlie, for his part, was covered in snow from his waist down, and it looked like he had pine needles in his hair. I wanted the story, but I was having more fun making up my own.
“How was the walk?” I asked.
Charlie put Cheyenne back in the truck where she promptly put her front paws on the window and barked at us.
“Just fine. After I chased her through three snow drifts, she saw a squirrel in the trees. That was another adventure.” Charlie brushed snow from his pants. “I think we may need to find a place where we can drop her off, not sure how much more she can ride with us.”
“Last community we saw was a full state south. I haven’t got any other ideas, and if we leave her out here she’ll be dead in a day,” I said.
“I know. She may be with us for the long haul,” Charlie said.
“Let’s get moving. I’d rather we were in some better shelter than a truck when night hits,” I said, looking at the sky and figuring we had about three or four hours of daylight left.
We climbed back into the truck and had a moment settling the pup down. She insisted on sitting on my lap and watching the truck navigate through the snow. Charlie saw the zombie remains and even he winced when he saw what the zombie looked like.
“That was gross,” he said.
“It was worse close up, trust me,” I replied.
“How’d the shovel do?” Charlie asked.
“Took the top half of his head clean off.”
“Nice.”
“Actually made him look worse, if that was possible,” I said.
“Wow. Head was dead, right?” Charlie asked, steering around a tight turn.
“Nope. Had to kill the damn thing, too. No idea why it stayed alive,” I said.
“Yuck.”
We drove deeper into the mountains following what looked to be part of some old access road or fire-fighting road. Could have been an old logging trail as well; we had no real way of knowing.
The woods darkened considerably as the sun slipped past the top of the mountains. The sky remained very bright, so it was weird to have to use our headlights when the sun was still very much in the sky. We just happened to be in a hole.
The road wound its way through the valleys, sometimes coming out of one valley and into another. At the back of one set of mountains, I thought I saw the remains of what might have been a town once upon a time, but we were too far away to be sure. Charlie had to drive slowly, making sure he stayed within the assumed boundaries of the road. It wasn’t easy, and I could see the strain it was taking on him. Every time we hit a straight patch that gave us some breathing room, he deflated a little, like he was holding his breath.
“How much longer?” Charlie asked.
I checked and rechecked the map Darnell had labeled for us. “If I’m following this correctly, we should be near a stream which will take us deeper into the mountains. There will be two campsites and places to stay when we reach them.”
“Again, how much longer?”
“Looks like about five miles as the crow flies; twenty the way this road twists,” I said.
“Great.”
“I’ll drive for no other reason than to quit your whining,” I said.
“Then we’d never get there. You’d get lost in a tunnel,” Charlie said with a smile.
“Make your point,” I replied. I snapped my fingers by Charlie’s face, and Cheyenne happily jumped up to get a pet. Finding Charlie’s face nearby, she set to licking him with vigor and accuracy.
“Arrrgh!” Charlie groaned, bringing a hand up to his face. “She got her tongue in my mouth! Bleah!”
I pulled the slurping pup off the man and held her myself, laughing at his discomfort. “I’ve been blessed by her myself that way. She’s quick.” I scratched the pup behind her ears, getting her attention and settling her down.
We drove for another four miles and were on a road that moved up constantly. It was covered in snow and ice and would have been treacherous even with regular plowing in the old days. The trees thinned out along the roadbed but grew more plentiful up the hills towards the mountains. On the side of the road, I saw a small bridge which led to a cleared area with what looked like a house and a few cabins. There were some camper pads with lines, but I doubted they’d be of any use.
Charlie pulled the truck into the area and parked it near a cabin.
“This one looks like the one Darnell described,” Charlie said.
“Even if it’s not, it’ll do,” I said. “I’ll check out the house and you can look over the cabin.”
We split up and carefully checked the two buildings. Charlie did a sweep of the grounds and went up the road a ways. When he got back, he had news.
“Major movement here a while back. Had to be hundreds of vehicles up this road. They pretty much flattened the roadbed. Snow covered most of it, but in the clearer areas you can see it,” Charlie said, with a small sweep of his hand.
“So where they went, we can go?” I asked.
“Looks like it.”
“All right. Let’s get some sleep. I’ll walk the dog; you get our gear inside,” I said, slipping a small bit of paracord around Cheyenne’s’s neck as a leash.
“Deal. Watch her around the drifts. She likes to go bury herself,” Charlie said.
“That’s why I have the leash,” I said. “Smarter, not harder.”
Charlie chose not to reply.
I gave the little beagle a run, and by the time we got back, the sun was well and truly set. The darkness was offset by the brilliant sky and unbelievable canopy of stars that stretched away into the vastness of space. Cheyenne and I just stood there for a while taking in the sight and feeling mighty small by comparison. I thought about Sarah and the boys, trying to figure out a timeline, and after the math added up, I realized we had very little time left to wrap this mess up, and get ourselves back south.
We stepped into the cabin and Charlie was already stretched out in one of the beds, snoring like his nose was trying to separate itself from his face. I closed the door to his room and took a place on the floor. I took my boots off and covered myself in the old quilt off the couch. Cheyenne curled up next to me with her head by my ear. I could hear her breathing softly as she watched over me, and then it shifted into a more stead
y rhythm as she drifted off.
I listened to the quiet of the mountains as I closed my eyes. There was something in the wind, but I was too tired to care. The door was locked, and my gun was within reach. I was as safe as I could make myself.
I didn’t know what time it was when I woke up; all I knew was it was still dark as could be. Cheyenne was away from me, and a quick look around showed me she was over by the window looking out. A small whine escaped her, but she was otherwise quiet. Her tail was tucked, and that wasn’t a good sign.
I made my way over to the window and carefully looked out. Outside the cabin, near the road, was a lone zombie. He was standing by the creek and moving slowly in the cold of the night. I could see his eyes in the dark glowing like fireflies that forgot to turn their butts off. I put a hand on Cheyenne’s head, and she jerked slightly before twisting a little to give my hand a lick.
I started to turn to get my pick when I saw movement. It wasn’t much, just a shadow moving from tree to tree. But it was big enough that I knew who it was.
Charlie stepped out from behind a tree and confronted the zombie directly. He walked up to it, and in a blink, had it on the ground. The Z reached up from the snow, and Charlie backhanded it with his ‘hawk, putting it down for good. I watched as he stood up, testing the wind. He stood absolutely still, and I knew he was listening to the forest. Anything out of the ordinary he was going to investigate.
I gave the dog a small rub on the head and slipped back to my warm spot on the floor. Charlie would be back when he felt like it, and I wasn’t his dad, anyway.
In the morning, Charlie and I headed deeper into the mountains. We passed another campsite and then turned up a road that led us up what might have been a logging trail. The road was rough as hell, and the snow and ice didn’t help much either. As we went up the trail, there were stumps and trees with chains on them, which confirmed the logging trail idea. Tree branches were broken on the side of the road, and dirty snow told the tale of passing vehicles struggling to get up the trail.
White Flag of the Dead (Book 9): The Zombie Wars (We All Fall Down) Page 8
