White Flag of the Dead (Book 9): The Zombie Wars (We All Fall Down)

by Joseph Talluto

  “Was it supposed to fall over?” Charlie asked.

  “I was hoping it would just collapse in place, but I’ll take falling over, too,” Duncan replied.

  “Amen, brother. Amen,” I said.

  Epilogue

  The collapsed building worked like a charm, and we managed to kill the horde with minimal shots fired. All in all, it was a good opening campaign. We lost a few good people for the wrong reasons, and a few more for the right ones. In the end, though, we’d cleared out a hell of a lot of zombies and made a lot of territory a little safer.

  We stayed in Denver for another month, cleaning the city up and gathering what supplies we might need from wherever we could find them. At the end of what some might call February, the snows cleared enough that we were able to head back towards home. About a third of our army decided to stay in the area and see what they could do with the resources at hand. They would use Denver as a base, but spread out and make their way. When we called on them the following fall, they would answer. Arizona was still a mess, and we still had to build the gates to keep out the millions of zombies that were just over the mountains. I doubted anyone really lived over there anyway.

  Tommy left early, wanting to get back to his wife and child, and Duncan went with him. Charlie and I had our families with us, so we were going to be moving back with the army.

  For the first time in a long time, I actually held some hope for what we were doing. I knew we would never fully clear out all the zombies from every corner of the country, and there would always be cracks in whatever walls we put up that would let in danger. But we knew our enemy, we had met him on the battle field, and we had come away victorious.

  “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get home?” I asked Charlie as we crossed the border between Nebraska and Iowa.

  “Sleep in my own bed for about twenty years,” he said, stretching his back.

  “Think we’ll have any more trouble with that pair up north?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I know you. And I know you’ll be checking up on them one more time, and when you do, you’re going to have fifty of the meanest-looking zombie fighters to back your play,” Charlie said.

  “I was thinking twenty, but I like your plan better,” I said.

  “Hey, boys!” Rebecca called out from the back of the RV.

  “What?” we both yelled back.

  “Sarah and I want you two to be quiet and get us home. We have some, ahem, catching up to do,” Rebecca said.

  I looked at Charlie as he looked at me.

  “Amen, brother,” we both said at the same time. “Amen.”

  Epilogue II

  I don’t know what year it is, and I couldn’t tell you what my real age is either. All those years of fighting and surviving kind of pushed time-keeping and record-keeping towards the back of the list of priorities.

  It’s a warm day, not hot, but just comfortable. I worked my way down the steps that led from the lodge to the lower part of the property. The trails are still there, not as wide as they used to be, but enough for two or three people to walk abreast comfortably. As I move along, branches from the trees are stretched out over the path, and I lightly run my hand over the branches and leaves that I can touch, meeting old trees like old acquaintances.

  I head up to the plateau that gave Starved Rock its name. Legend says a group of Indians got trapped up there by their enemies, and they all starved to death instead of surrender. Later on, the French built a fort up there with a commanding view of the river. At the base, sometime around the turn of the twentieth century, a small hotel was built. Nothing remains of either except some carved stone here and there.

  It takes me longer than usual to get to the top, something that has been happening more recently. I’m tired a lot more these days, and some days that chair by the fireplace is really hard to get out of.

  I’ve made it up here once a week for the last twenty years or so. Jake and Aaron have each asked me to let it go, but it wouldn’t be right. I know I have several grandchildren to keep me busy, but I need this. I can’t explain why.

  At the top of the stairs, I look out over the river that has been my home for over forty years. It hasn’t changed much at all, just gotten a lot busier as time went by. After the final battles, and the trouble that Ben had caused, the new presidents made it their mission to reclaim the rest of the America. They crossed the mountains and took back the rest of the country. I heard the zombies on the other side had finally fallen to decay. It only took just short of forever.

  I had dragged a chair up here a long time ago, and I took a seat to look over the graves that had populated the top of the rock.

  Sarah and Rebecca had fallen to disease so long ago, yet I can still remember their faces as clear as if they were standing next to me.

  Tommy Carter passed away five years ago after Angela had passed. They’re both up here now; side by side forever. We buried our quiet friend with his favorite weapons and his favorite book. Duncan Fries left us two years later, and his grave is up here as well. We took his old sword, covered it in varnish, and used it as his headstone. He probably got a kick out of that. God sure had his hands full with those two up there. Janna is still around; she moved in with her other children in the town of Ottowa, so I still see her from time to time.

  Last year my friend and my brother, Charlie James, passed away. I dug his grave by myself and buried the old warrior with his tomahawks. When word got out that he had passed, hundreds of people, most of the Old Guard from the early days, made the trip to pay their respects. We spent a lot of time reflecting back, swapping stories, and remembering Charlie for the big-hearted, loyal friend that he was. Fearless in battle, generous to a fault, and above all, dedicated to his family and friends. On his marker I just carved his name and the word that summed it all up – Friend.

  The wind picks up while I’m up there, and I like to think it’s my friends coming back to say hello. I don’t know why I’ve outlived them all. I always figured I’d be the first to go. The sun feels good on my face, and I allow myself to drift off to sleep.

  I finally wake up and the sun is much lower in the sky. I must have slept longer than I thought. The trip back down the steps and hill are always harder on the heart than going up. When I leave, I feel like I’m leaving just another small piece of myself behind. Maybe one day I’ll go up and just never come back down again.

  At the bottom of the hill, I can take a look down the other path, something I haven’t done in ages. It looks like some people are standing there, so I head that way, making sure my old .45 is ready to go. I haven’t stepped outside without it since I can’t remember.

  The sun coming through the trees is brighter and fuller, and everything stands out. The river is bright with flashes of silver, and the warm, setting sun bathes the ground in orange and yellow. I walk along the path and I don’t even need to watch where I’m going; it’s as familiar to me as an old favorite song from long ago.

  Where the path splits, there are three men standing there. Two of them are of average build while the other is a big man, broad of shoulder and thick in his chest.

  “Hey, John. You coming?” he speaks to me in a voice I have missed for a while year.

  “Yes, Charlie. Hey Duncan. Hey Tommy.”

  My two friends give me big grins and slap me on the back. I looked back at Starved Rock and then head off with my crew.

  Epilogue III (By Jake Talon)

  We found my dad up on the plateau by the graves later that evening. His last act was to guard his friends and family until the end finally came and took him. When word got out that John Talon had passed away, thousands of people from all over the country came to Starved Rock to pay their respects. The man who dared to take it all back from the literal jaws of death had gone to his well-deserved rest.

  It took a week for all the mourners and well-wishers to visit his grave, and each one laid a small s
tone in gratitude and respect. For a month afterward, the grandchildren would find little boats in the river, each one just a small piece of wood with a simple message carved on it: Thank you.

  On his grave, his marker just read:

  John Talon

  1978-2056

  Father, Husband, Brother, Friend

  He Fought For Us All

  THE END

  Read on for a free sample of AniZombie

  Chapter 1

  Breaking news

  Herb Bennett first heard about the situation in the neighboring city of Decatur, Alabama during his drive to work at the culvert factory in Athens. The radio report was short on details, stating only that several people had been attacked at Decatur General Hospital, and that the authorities were seeking suspects in the brutal assaults.

  As the workday progressed, there were rumors that something big was happening in Decatur. Apparently, there had been several murders, and the police were said to be canvassing the hospital, as if they thought some suspects might still be located on the premises.

  Herb decided to eat lunch in his truck so that he could try to learn more about what was happening in the neighboring city. According to the news he heard, roadblocks had been set up at every street leading out of the city.

  Athens is located fourteen miles south of the Tennessee state line along the Interstate 65 corridor. Decatur is situated fifteen miles further to the south. Herb knew that there were numerous roads leading to the city. According to the report he heard on the radio, city, county, and state trooper units were working together to contain and capture the violent criminals. The public was being advised to stay inside their homes and keep all doors and windows closed and locked while law enforcement officials sought the killers.

  That night, Herb ate his dinner in the living room so that he could watch the news about the violence in Decatur. The story had captured the attention of the national news media. Thinking that they had an opportunity to spark another round of draconian firearms legislation, they pounced on the story. They were disappointed to learn that not a single victim of the violence had been shot. Then they discovered that the spokesmen for the authorities who were handling the situation were hiding something and the networks present in Decatur raced to be the first to uncover the truth about what was happening in the city.

  Herb was shocked to learn that Decatur General Hospital was still under lockdown and that no visitors were being permitted inside. In fact, no one was being allowed within blocks of the facility, and everyone near it had been evacuated. One reporter, speaking to the camera before the press conference began, said that there had been claims that several patients had been moved to an undisclosed location. During a press conference with city officials and representatives of law enforcement, she asked why the city was covering up the fact that some patients had been relocated, while others were still trapped inside the compromised medical facility.

  Herb sat up straighter and leaned toward his television screen with interest. “I don’t know where you got your information, but I can assure you that it isn’t true. Not one living soul has been removed from that hospital,” the Chief of Police stated.

  “That’s not true,” Angela Hutton, the young female reporter countered. Then she held up an 8 x 10 color photograph that showed a woman on a gurney being rolled toward a waiting ambulance. “Note that this patient is restrained, and her gurney is being moved by members of a police team dressed in tactical gear,” she added in a tone that conveyed righteous anger. “There were others, but I only had time to prepare one photo before this press conference.”

  “Where did you get that?” asked the Police Chief.

  “A concerned citizen videoed the incidents and passed that on to me. My network is going to air it after this press conference is over, so unless you want this story to break without an explanation from you, then I suggest you tell us the truth. What is going on at that medical facility and why are some of the patients being restrained and removed against their will by law enforcement?”

  “Those people had become violent. They were a threat to the safety of the other patients and the staff of the hospital. It was necessary to move them for the safety of the rest of the patients as well as the staff. Now, this is an ongoing investigation, and things are still happening in the field that requires my attention. I’ll take a couple more questions from someone else, but then I have to go. Next question?” responded the police chief.

  “But I still have other questions,” Miss. Hutton complained.

  “I’m sure you do. I’m equally certain that that would probably be the case if we devoted the entire press conference to you exclusively, but that would hardly be fair to the rest of the reporters present,” the police chief responded. His comments drew support from many of the other reporters waiting to ask their questions.

  Minutes later, the press conference ended. Herb learned nothing significant during the rest of that event. He was about to change the channel when one of the news anchors said, “And now for the footage Angela obtained during her investigation of the Decatur violence.”

  Herb watched the footage that depicted several patients being loaded into waiting ambulances. Just as the photograph Angela produced at the press conference suggested, the patients were strapped to their gurneys, and they were loaded into the ambulances by what appeared to be SWAT team members.

  The scene then shifted back to the male anchor, who said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just received some additional footage from one of our affiliates who was in position to record an incident that just happened. I must caution you that this is raw footage, and we haven’t had time to edit it for content. I warn you that this contains graphic violence and is disturbing. This video isn’t suitable for children, so if you have children in the room, you will need to remove them from the room immediately.”

  The video began innocently enough. Three military style helicopters, flying low over the city, flew past the camera, which was set up atop a nearby parking garage. As the video ran, the news anchor provided background information. He said, “Over the past several hours, our cameraman on the location has reported multiple instances in which he heard what sounded like gunfire coming from the hospital. The last incident occurred approximately two hours before this video was filmed.”

  The camera followed the helicopters as they flew to a position near the parking garage where they landed, one by one, on a helipad, and disgorged their passengers.

  Herb watched with interest as a large military tactical unit gathered on the ground and began to make their way toward the hospital. He thought that they were members of the 20th Special Forces Airborne Group, which he knew was headquartered in Alabama.

  From his vantage point atop the parking garage, the cameraman had a view of the front entrance, as well as a smaller entry on the northern side, which was facing his position. Because of this, he had a bird’s-eye view of what happened next.

  The large Special Forces unit split into two smaller groups. One headed for the side entrance, and the other moved toward the front. The side entry team reached their objective first, but waited with their backs to the red brick wall near the entry while the other team moved into position. A minute passed with no change to the situation on the ground, but then the entry teams went to work.

  The cameraman focused on the side entry team because they were closest. He tightened the frame until Herb could make out the details of what was transpiring with ease. The entry team had found the door locked. They set small demolitions charges that would blow the lock, and then they detonated it.

  The team located at the north end of the hospital rushed into the side entrance. The camera then swept back to the front of the hospital. The video focused on the front entry team that had also been forced to blow the lock. Unfortunately, the glass doors had been shattered by the explosion. It was safety glass, so it was still in place, but, due to its spider-webbed condition, the team couldn’t make out any details inside the darke
ned building.

  The point man opened the door and was met by several crazed individuals who grabbed him and pulled him inside. He screamed as he disappeared from view. Other men moved to the door and once more opened it. This time, they were ready. When two of the people inside the hospital tried to attack them, they were met with a hail of bullets that slammed into their upper torsos, flinging them back through the door. Those two men rushed inside. The sound of nonstop rifle fire told Herb that more of the crazies had met them.

  The rest of the men rushed inside, but then the cameraman pulled the camera back to a view of the northern entryway. Herb saw several soldiers stagger back out of the hospital. He could also hear gunfire in the background, but wasn’t sure whether it was coming from the front or the north end of the building.

  The camera zoomed in on the soldiers who had fled the confines of the hospital. All three had been wounded. One man was holding the right side of his face with blood seeping between his fingers. He moved his hand away from his face and tried to eject his spent magazine from his rifle, but his hand was slick with blood, so he found it to be a difficult task. Herb stared aghast at the terrible wound on the man’s face. He could see some of the soldier’s teeth through the gaping hole that had been torn out of his flesh. He shifted his attention to the other two men and saw that one had been wounded on the neck, and the other had lost his nose and upper lip.

  A man and woman wearing hospital gowns walked out the door. They saw the three soldiers and moved toward them. The man with the wounded neck had finally managed to reload his weapon. He turned his M4 toward the two civilians and opened fire. He was firing in semi-auto mode. His rounds hit them both twice in the center of the chest, knocking them backwards, but they stayed on their feet.

  Blood loss was weakening the soldiers. Two had already collapsed and the man who was firing at the civilians was growing weaker by the moment. He seemed to be having trouble holding up his rifle. Several more people emerged from the hospital. Two were wearing police uniforms, but they had obviously been attacked.