Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos

by Simpson, David A.

  If Scarlet was still alive.

  He turned off the radio when a rerun of Casey Kasem’s Top 40 from 1977 came on and Shaun Cassidy started singing Da Doo Ron Ron.

  20

  Takeo and Sandy

  “I know of two places.” Takeo said as they passed through the sally port, Mizuki right behind him in her Rossa Red armored Ferrari.

  “Mad Ruby’s lodge is on a hilltop; it is well defended and very few people know of its exact location. The women are fierce warriors, they will protect your secrets and the child with their lives. Babies are their world, the most important thing for them.”

  Sandy settled into the deep leather seats of the Countach and rubbed a teething gel on baby Jessie’s gums. He was being cranky and she hoped the gentle vibrations and noise would lull him into sleep once they got going.

  “I’m not sure if I want him to be around all those prisoners.” She replied. “What’s the other place you mentioned?”

  “It is a lonely place. I think Jessie is the only other person to know of it.” He said. “There are four people there, it is very safe but the two children are much too old to be playmates for him.”

  Not at the rate he’s growing she thought.

  “The truckers don’t go there?” she asked “What about supplies?”

  “It has everything.” He said “But if you need something specific, you can reach me on the ham.”

  “I think I would like that, then.” She said.

  She needed privacy as her baby grew. If he kept it up at the same rate, he’d look like he was five or six in another year.

  “It is only thirteen hundred miles.” He said as he punched in the coordinates and lowered his goggles. “We can be there tomorrow, depending on how often we need to stop.”

  He engaged the turbine, flipped on the heads-up display and lay down a little further in the seat. The array of gauges and monitors gave him confidence when traveling at high speeds. The infrared sensors, the collision detectors, night vision and empty highways allowed for safe triple digit travels. The Hell Drivers ran the roads hard and the profits they earned kept them cleared and in good repair. They had their own road monitors similar to Mad Ruby’s girls and way stations like the pony express riders of old. They could relay a package anywhere in the territories within twenty-four hours if it absolutely positively had to be there the next day.

  Takeo and Mizuki had been to the underground storage facility deep inside area 51 a few times over the summer. They’d helped the Atwater family set up a Ham and installed an antenna so they could listen to the two radio stations. They didn’t need anything else but they enjoyed the company when the two Hell Drivers stopped in for a visit. He and Mizuki had decided to keep the secret place secret. There were powerful artifacts and inventions and it would be best if word didn’t spread too far about the facility. Christopher and Valerie had made it their permanent home, they felt responsible for the repository of the world’s greatest inventions. It was true that a lot of them were outdated, had modern counterparts available at any department store, but some were truly amazing, technological marvels. He and Mizuki had borrowed a few to make their high speed runs a little safer and some simply because they were cool. Other devices were deadly killing machines that were best kept out of the wrong hands. There were still bands of outlaws and enclaves of jihadi’s that popped up every once in a while.

  Mizuki had volunteered him for the rather unusual courier job. She had been to the doctors in Lakota and a woman had come in with a baby. She was ushered past everyone else in the waiting room and out of idle curiosity she aimed one of her earbuds at the closed door. The little music player had come from the vault and had been some sort of spy apparatus. It doubled as a sound amplifier. The mother was concerned about the alarming growth of the baby but Sara and Stacy assured her everything was normal; the baby was healthy. Mizuki almost flipped back over to her music when the mother asked if it was because of his father.

  “The serum he was injected with gave Jessie some unusual abilities.” Stacy had said. “His broken bones mend quickly. His cuts heal in days when it should take weeks. His baby is exhibiting some of the same qualities. He’s perfectly normal, Sandy. I think his rapid growth will slow in a few years.”

  “But people will notice.” She’d said. “Nobody can know. Jessie made a lot of enemies and a lot of them are still out there. They may try to hurt him if they find out. I can’t stay here; I think I need to keep moving. I can catch rides with the truckers to different settlements and stay a few months in each. Nobody will know, then. We won’t be there long enough to for them to realize he’s not growing normally.”

  “Maybe.” Sara had said. “But truckers gossip worse than the church ladies. All they do is blab all day long on the CB’s.”

  Mizuki had let herself into the room and apologized for her intrusion. The SS sisters glared at her and Sandy had wrapped baby Jessie in a protective hug.

  “I can help.” She said “We all owe much to Jessie. I know of a place where the boy will be safe.”

  Takeo hadn’t been exactly thrilled when Mizuki told him their next job was couriering a woman and her baby but that changed when he looked into the cobalt blue eyes of the child. He was definitely Jessies son and he said it would be an honor to take them to the most secure place in the world. Christopher had brought the armaments back on line and although there weren’t a lot of them, there was no way anyone could approach undetected. All of the various sensors and cameras worked and an alarm sounded as soon as someone turned off the main road.

  The plains of Oklahoma fell behind them quickly and became the deserts of Texas. He avoided the cities, cut up through the mountains and took thirty mile an hour curves at ninety. He would usually radio ahead so a way station crew would be standing by to refill his tanks and check the machine over while he ran in to the bathroom but there was no need to rush on this run. Sandy wanted to get out and stretch, let the baby hold to her fingers and try to walk.

  “The monitors picked up a horde shambling down sixty-four near Farmington.” Gokkuu said as he closed the deck lid on the Countach and wiped his hands on a rag. “You can take the bypass or wait for a few hours; they should continue straight and you can take the shortcut through the reservation.”

  “No rush on this run.” Takeo said. “They need a break. The kid travels well but he was getting restless. We’ll wait until the horde clears; the res road is better.”

  When they arrived at the hollow mountain, Chris, Valerie and the two children were waiting for them in the hangar. He’d radioed he was coming and the monitors had picked them up once they left the highway. The kids were excited to have them back and show them some of the new things they’d found in the endless aluminum cases. Besides Jessie, Takeo and Mizuki were the only ones who knew of the place. Valerie fussed over the baby, the kids asked them if they brought a puppy like they’d promised and Chris started refilling their machines so they would be ready to go.

  “Can you stay for a while?” he asked “We’d be happy to have you for dinner and I’ve found a few more things in the cases that you might find useful.”

  “We aren’t on a schedule this time.” Mizuki said and hooked her arm through Takeo’s before he could protest. “We can take some time off. I want to make a new poodle skirt with the impact cloth, do you have any in pink?”

  “The boss has spoken.” Takeo laughed. “I guess we stay.”

  21

  Lakota

  The old Mercury burbled into the sallyport as the spotlights illuminated the checkpoint. Phil greeted him as he walked into the bite station, his sleeves already rolled up.

  “Didn’t figure you to be working night shift.” Jessie said as a man he didn’t recognize examined his arms and patted his pants to ensure there weren’t any hidden bandaged wounds.

  “Surprise inspection.” Phil grunted. “Gotta keep these slackers on their toes. Had some trouble a few weeks back.”

  The head of security didn�
��t elaborate but watched the man as he thoroughly patted him down. Jessie grimaced, he hated the man’s hands touching him, but suffered through it. The guy was just doing his job. When the man finished his inspection, he tried to make Jessie sign in, declare where he was from and what his business was in Lakota.

  “I’m not signing anything.” Jessie said starting to let his annoyance get the better of him. “I have a house here. Open the damn gate.”

  “Not until you sign in.” The man said. “It’s the rules.”

  “You can take your rules and shove…” Jessie started but Phil cut him off.

  “It’s alright, Goldberg.” Phil said. “Let him through this time. We all know who he is.”

  The man’s look soured and he muttered under his breath about people thinking they were special; the rules should apply to everyone equally but Jessie ignored him and walked out the door.

  When the front gate opened it was almost three in the morning. His headlights were the only ones on the long stretch of road that passed through the farmlands before he cruised into town. He spotted a pair of sheriff’s cars at the office and figured whoever was on duty was probably asleep on the couch. The town was quiet and he heard the hum of electricity in the air, the sound of a garbage truck making its rounds and the lights were on in Martha’s Sunshine Café. Cookie was already making the day’s bread.

  Jessie rolled up to his little warehouse then him and Bob walked across the road to the sandy beach. He sat on a log and watched the moon shimmer off the water and idly thought about everything and nothing, what he was going to do with his life and whether he would stay and start a business or live as a nomad outside the walls. He finally slipped inside his home and found his bed as the sun was coming up. An hour later he was awoken by the sound of hammers and power saws when construction crews arrived and started their day a few lots over. Another apartment complex was going up, there weren’t very many empty houses left.

  He missed the solitude of the sailboat.

  Jessie kept to himself. He dropped in at Stabby’s bar a few times but the place was overcrowded and he didn’t recognize any of the faces. Slippery Jim and his band of misfits stopped by his warehouse but the Jessie they knew was no longer there. The scarred boy was distant, didn’t want to play video games and acted like a grownup. He wasn’t much fun anymore but he did add a pinball machine and some more arcade games for them. They got into the habit of coming by after school, he still had the best place to hang out once the weather turned cold and his games were on free play. The bowling alley had started charging money. They liked to take Bob to the beach and play frisbee and Jessie would come and watch sometimes but he never joined in. Gage said he had PTSD, something people get when they’ve seen a lot of bad things, but Jessie didn’t act crazy. He just seemed sad all the time.

  Gunny came over with a nearly new pickup truck one day near Christmas, said he’d help him swap motors out of the old Mercury if he wanted. Gas was starting to break down, it was all over a year old now and octane booster was getting hard to find. Most of the retrievers were driving diesel pickups, it would stay viable a lot longer than gas. Some say as long as it didn’t get contaminated with water it would be good for seven or eight years. Maybe longer with additives. Jessie seemed to come alive a little when they worked on the machine and whiled away the hours. Gunny tried to get through to him, tried to get him to talk about some of the things he’d been through but his son wouldn’t. Sometimes the boy had a thousand-yard stare but not always. He wasn’t a basket case like some of the men who had lived through the fall.

  The SS sisters had started a few support groups and they helped some of the men and women. Sometimes talking about a tragic experience with others who had gone through something similar was enough. The vets didn’t seem to be as affected by the horror they’d seen as some of the civilians. They had a different mindset, they’d volunteered to fight in the wars overseas. Many of the survivors had never done anything more violent than have an argument in grade school. The killing and bloodshed had affected them differently. He wished the kid would go to one of the meetings, speak to one of the counselors. Jessie didn’t talk about himself but Gunny had heard the stories, listened to retrievers tell their tales of Jessie killing whole towns of undead or gunning down dozens of Raiders. Most of the stories weren’t true, they couldn’t be, but he wasn’t the same person, not even close. Sometimes he felt like Jessie was the elder. Like he was a sad, melancholy old man, not a seventeen-year-old kid.

  22

  Remembrances

  It was early spring. The apartments a few lots over were finished and full, mostly with single young men his dad had helped rescue from a navy boat. On the other side of him were luxury waterfront condos and he’d been approached a few times by people wanting to buy his property. One had even called it an eyesore. In their eyes it probably was. He lived on the beach. There was a lot of water front property but most of it was on steep, muddy hills, there was only a half mile of actual sandy beach and high-end developers were buying all they could.

  Jessie was restless and bored. He’d spent the past few months tinkering with the car and had tried to fit in again. He went to the movies on Friday night, he hung out at the bar, went bowling with Slippery Jim and spent time at the gym. He had volunteered to stand guard on the wall just for something to do but Phil said he had enough help with all the Navy boys in town. He could have used his influence as the President’s son to jump to the head of the line and become a pilot in the new Air Force. His mom would probably whisper in Eustice’s ear now that she’s the one in charge if he asked her but that would just give more people more reasons to resent him. He tried to be normal but eyes still slid away from his face when he walked through town. Conversations faltered when he went into the diner. For them, the scar was a reminder. They couldn’t forget the world outside the walls if he wouldn’t let them. They loved their heroes but wanted to love them from a distance. They didn’t want to see them eating or drinking and being normal, they wanted to remember them larger than life and doing heroic things.

  Somebody had tried him at Up Jumped the Devil a few weeks ago. A couple of hot shot new retrievers were bragging about a particularly tough retrieval and how they’d had to battle their way out through a horde of the undead. One of the truckers said the Road Angel had done the same thing but by himself and an argument started. Jessie watched from a dark corner and stayed out of it. Sometimes, on a night when the whiskey had been plentiful, it amused him to listen to his exploits. Rarely were they true, even when the one telling the tale swore he’d been right there by the Road Angels side.

  “I call bullshit.” One of the new retrievers said. “There ain’t nobody that fast or that good.”

  “I know him.” The truck driver said. “I was in Blackfoot when he killed them Raiders. That ain’t bullshit. It happened.”

  “I heard the story.” The other retriever added. “I also heard he had help, most of the bar joined in, he just took all the credit.”

  “That’s right.” The first man said. “He’s just a punk ass glory hound that goes around bragging about every little thing and you idiots lap it up. I’d slap him silly for lying if he were here.”

  “Is that a fact?” a hard-bitten cowboy asked that was leaning against the bar, nursing a tall glass of whiskey. He’d had a bad night at the poker table and wasn’t in the mood to suffer fools. “I’m tired of your prattle. Go slap him silly and quit talking about it. He’s right over there.”

  Rye pointed at the figure sitting in the shadows, sipping a glass of back door moonshine.

  The retrievers were new. Tough men from the mountains outside of Cascade and were still trying to make a name for themselves. They’d fought off Casey’s Raiders, they’d killed their share of the undead and they weren’t afraid to take risks. They were good at what they did but there was a glut of retrievers, it was hard to get good paying gigs. The big names like Ian the Hunter, Penny the Stitch or Charlie Safari still got t
he big money but most of the others were fighting over the scraps. You had to do something big to stand out, to start getting the good jobs. Maybe beating the Road Angel at something, maybe proving he wasn’t everything the stories claimed, maybe that would open the right doors so they could start getting paid the right coin.