Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos

by Simpson, David A.

  “Guard duty.” She said. “They’ll be coming, chasing the sound of your car. It might take them a while but they’ll show up sooner or later.”

  They made a cold camp and shared food. Jessie had chocolate bars and canned peaches which they hadn’t had in a long time and they unpacked seasoned fish cakes and thick slices of deer jerky. They spoke freely as they ate and guards rotated out every fifteen minutes. They asked a lot of questions about Lakota and the other walled cities and talked about the things they missed. Most of those things were powered by electricity. Movies and games, electric ovens and washing machines. They missed them, wished they had them, but not enough to pack up and move all the way across the country to get them.

  “We’ve talked about it.” Wallace said. “It comes up every once in a while, but we have a pretty good setup. It was hard the first winter, we survived by raiding houses. Up this way the undead were pretty much frozen in place come January and that made it a lot easier. We killed a lot of them, every one we could find in about a five-mile radius.”

  “If you don’t have electricity or cars, how do you know of Jessie?” Natalie asked.

  “We have some.” Corporal Lawrence replied. “But it’s a cobbled together system using homemade turbines in the river and car alternators to charge batteries. Enough for the clinic and to power the radio in the mess hall but not enough for dishwashers or DVD players.”

  “There’s about a hundred of us left.” Sergeant Wallace answered Jessie’s’ question. “Mostly civilians. Had a lot more in the beginning but you know how it is. Zombies, sickness, not much to eat the first winter, bad health to begin with, no medicine. It took its toll; we were floating people down river almost every day for a while.”

  They talked and ate, laughed and shared stories and news. The patrol was part of a National Guard unit that had been mobilized a day before the fall. When everything went crazy they had fought their way to an island in the Hudson River that was only accessible by train tracks or a poorly maintained road that ran through swampy marshlands. Thousands of the undead had chased them and surrounded the old Navy buildings that had been abandoned long ago. They fought until they were out of ammunition then fought with sticks and pipes. Eventually they killed them all then tore up the road and train bridge. More came and laid siege, hungering for them but unable to get across. They survived on fish and roots and what they could raid from nearby houses the first winter. The only thing that saved them was an early hard freeze that slowed the undead enough so they could run past them. They didn’t have to fight their way through the horde, they could go around it.

  They talked openly about a small network of fortified towns in the Eastern States that would help each other when they could. He’d heard rumors of some but he didn’t know they were so organized this far east. He’d thought most of the settlements were in rural areas of Mississippi and Tennessee. Warm places close to the river and its ferries. Pennsylvania and New York had some thriving communities that had made it through the worst and were ready for the winter to come. He wasn’t surprised, he knew he’d missed a lot of news about the rebuilding. He had kind of checked out ever since he’d been back. He rarely listened to the radio or read the paper and if he didn’t overhear it at the bar then he was kind of clueless about all the progress being made. He’d tried to lose himself sailing all summer then drown himself in a bottle all winter. After time jumping, piloting a space ship and walking on alien planets hundreds of light years away the petty problems on earth had seemed trivial.

  The communities this far removed from the trade routes were a lot more primitive than the walled cities of the Midwest. They lived more of a pioneer lifestyle where they used wood stoves for cooking, farmed small plots by hand and raised sheep, cows and chickens for meat. Unlike the pioneers, they had modern firearms, the fields were already cleared and a lot of the Pennsylvania Dutch and Amish had survived. It made things a lot easier for them.

  “You should come back to base with us.” Rodriguez said around a mouthful of slightly outdated chocolate chip cookie. “I’m sure the First Sergeant would like to meet you.”

  Jessie had been waiting for an invitation, if one hadn’t come, he would have asked. It solved his problem of what to do with Natalie. He wouldn’t be worried about her if she was among friends. He had to make sure she understood how important it was to stick to their story, though. And he wanted to make sure they really were friends. She couldn’t let a military outfit know who she was. Her story was simple and mostly true. Jessie had rescued her after her group had been killed and now she was in training to be a retriever’s assistant. No one would question it or ask many questions about the past. It was too painful.

  “Go on.” Wallace told them when they had finished lunch. “We’ll meet you there. We were on our way back; we’ve been out here for a week. I’ll let our relief know to meet us here, they can take care of any followers that straggle in over the next few days. I’ll radio ahead, let them know you’re coming.”

  Jessie followed her directions and found the overgrown entrance to the island road. Halfway down the causeway there was a drawbridge and a pair of guards. They may be living primitive now but there was logging equipment, a couple of bulldozers, track hoes and other machinery parked in an open-faced shed. A lot of fortifications and security improvements had been completed. The soldiers operated the crank, lowered the bridge, waved them through and raised it behind them.

  “Just follow the main road. Top is at HQ, you can’t miss it.” One of soldiers told him.

  Jessie saw a clean-shaven man in uniform standing in front of one of the buildings as he pulled up and shut off the engine. His uniform was pressed and worn proudly. He was slim, his dark hair peppered with gray and leaned on a cane. First Sergeant Miles waited on the sidewalk then greeted them warmly when they approached.

  “Welcome to Camp Iona Mr. Meadows.”

  “Thanks. I’m just Jessie,” Jessie said. “And this is Natalie. I’m teaching her the ropes, showing her the tricks to surviving out here.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He said and cut his eyes quickly between the two. She seemed awfully young to be doing any dangerous training but times had changed. Yes, they had.

  “This is Jeremy.” He said and indicated a well-built teenager. “I don’t have a liaison officer but he’ll show you around, give you a tour and get you something to eat if you want. When you’re finished, he’ll bring you around here again. I’d like to discuss a few things with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m not really an ambassador anymore.” Jessie said. “I don’t represent Lakota, I’m out here on my own.”

  “I see.” The First Sergeant said. “No matter. I’d still like to have a word if you have time.”

  “We can talk now.” Jessie said. “Natty can take the tour.”

  “It can wait. Please, go with Jeremy. Let him show you around. It bears on what I’d like to discuss.”

  Jessie did and the kid gave them the grand tour. It didn’t take long to see the three massive stone buildings the Navy had built when the island had been used as a munition’s depot. Two of them had been sectioned into small apartments, enough for everyone to be comfortable and the smaller was the medical clinic and headquarters. The fields were tilled and some already planted. Cattle, horses and sheep roamed much of the five hundred acres. New log cabins had been constructed and more were going up.

  “We can build them pretty fast.” The kid explained. “The shells are easy, doing the finish work is hard. We cleaned out the local lumber yard but it’s still too dangerous to go into town. Maybe this winter when all the zeds are frozen solid, we can get shingles and nails and real windows. Building with logs is pretty simple, nothing has to be perfectly square.”

  He continued the tour, showed them their small water wheel which kept a bank of batteries charged.

  “We’re lucky they were from an engineer unit.” The kid said, referring to the soldiers. “They knew how to build the drawbridge
and drive bulldozers and trucks and make all kinds of stuff.”

  He showed them the saw mill, and the new barns, and his pride was apparent. As they walked, he pointed out projects they were working on and told them how they had wound up on Iona. Like the rest of the civilians on the island, the soldiers had brought him here, fought to protect them and kept them alive through the winter. Most of them had nothing, just the clothes on their backs. They had fled from school or work or their houses and ran to the trucks and Humvees when the Guard rolled by. Miles didn’t have a plan but he wouldn’t drive off and leave people running for their lives. He crammed everyone aboard. They thought they were being rescued, taken to an area where there would be doctors and food and emergency shelters but there wasn’t. The soldiers were running for their lives, too. They were barely organized, trying to contact command and were on their own. There had been a lot more of them in the beginning. More soldiers, more vehicles and more people. The dead were everywhere they turned. Every safe zone they tried to establish was overrun and finally they had fled in panic to the island. They made their last stand. Many more died and were floated down the river but many more survived. The strong lived on and First Sergeant Miles became their leader. He was tough but fair and they started rebuilding.

  Once Natalie got over her initial shyness and started talking with their tour guide Jessie told them he’d go back by himself, see what the First Sergeant wanted. They barely noticed. She’d started to fill out with all the healthy eating she’d been doing and he was the first boy she’d talked to in years. Jessie didn’t count. He may have only been a few years older but he acted older than dirt. Like a grumpy old man half the time. Jessie watched as he led her down to the shoreline to show her their fresh water filtration unit. Probably an excuse to extend their walk, he seemed to be enjoying it as much as her.

  Jessie took a different route back to the headquarters building. He was looking for anything amiss, slaves or penned zombies or hardcore raiders keeping out of sight but everything appeared to be exactly what Miles had claimed it was. A small community of survivors that had struggled, almost gone under and were rebuilding. They had a plan.

  Miles was sitting at his desk going over paperwork when Jessie rapped on the door frame.

  “Come in.” he said and motioned to a chair. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Jessie shook his head and waited while Miles busied himself scooting around his papers for a moment. He asked about other settlements Jessie had been to and was surprised when he learned this was the first East of the Mississippi. They made small talk for a few minutes but Jessie wasn’t good at it and let the silences drag out.

  “You have a reputation as a man who can get things done.” Miles said, getting around to what he really wanted. “If half the stories I’ve heard on the radio are true…”

  “They’re not.” Jessie said flatly. “Exaggerations and lies for the most part and I’m not an ambassador anymore. I don’t get involved with other people’s problems.

  Miles faltered; the little speech he had prepared died on his lips. He looked down at his desk and moved some more papers.

  Jessie waited.

  “We really need a man of your talents.” He finally said. “I know some of the stories have been exaggerated but most of them are true.”

  “Have your soldiers do whatever it is you want me to do. Doesn’t your network have retrievers?”

  “No, we don’t and no they can’t.” Miles snapped. “My soldiers aren’t infantry, the only time they used a gun before all this was in basic training. We’re all that remains of an Engineering unit. We’re the ones left behind at the National Guard posts when the soldiers who were actually needed were called up to be on standby. I’m not even a First Sergeant, or I wasn’t before all this started. I had four years of active duty as a combat engineer. All I did in Afghanistan was unroll concertina wire and pull guard duty. I got a field promotion to First Sergeant from our lieutenant before he died. I don’t even know if it’s legal, I certainly didn’t get any orders or a ceremony. I have maybe a dozen good men that I would send into a hotspot, you met some of them on patrol. They’re competent, they’re careful and they know how to clear a house. They can kill shamblers and they’ve had to deal with a few fast ones since we started leaving the island.”

  “That sounds like enough unless you’re trying to clear a town or something.” Jessie said.

  “If I lose them, who will bring in the supplies we need? The rest of my people aren’t fighters. They aren’t good at it and they haven’t been off the island since we secured it. They would be butchered if I sent them into danger. That’s if they would even go. Which I doubt. I don’t have absolute power over these people, I’m good at organizing things. I have my lists, I know what we need and I make sure we get it. When I can.”

  “But sometimes you can’t.” Jessie said for him.

  “Exactly.”

  “But you’d be happy to risk my life if it keeps your dozen safe.”

  “They would go with you.” Miles said hurriedly. “I wouldn’t dream of sending you in alone. I need someone to lead them. Someone who is experienced. Someone who knows how to fight. Someone who could keep them safe and bring them back. Someone like you.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Jessie said and stood. “But I’m on a timeline, I have something I need to finish. Can’t you get some of the other towns to help?”

  Miles stood quickly, urgency in his voice.

  “No.” he said. “This isn’t like the Midwest. There are a few settlements, sure, but they won’t help. They won’t risk their fighters. There aren’t empty ghost towns here that are ripe for the plunder. We were crowded on Z day. Thousands, hell tens of thousands of those things are in every town. They wander in and never leave and what we need we haven’t found in any of the houses. We need to get to a hospital.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” Jessie asked

  “We’ve been working on a plan.” Miles said.

  “Hard pass.” Jessie said and walked out.

  40

  Choices

  Dammit, dammit, dammit. Jessie thought as he left the building and looked up and down the street for Natty and her tour guide. Miles probably wouldn’t let him leave her now, he would want a trade. Go kill a thousand undead, bring back truckloads of stuff and we’ll feed and house her for a week. Nope. He had things to do. He’d find a safe place to stash her, leave her with plenty of food, water and ammo and pick her up a few days later. A week at the most.

  He saw them as they came out of the clinic and motioned for her to hurry up but she turned to say something to a nurse. He closed his eyes in frustration. Life was so much easier with Bob. He wanted to go. Get off this island. Leave these people and their troubles behind. He couldn’t save the world, couldn’t fix everybody’s problems and he didn’t want to try anymore.

  “Let’s go.” He said when she finally neared the car.

  “But they need help.” She said “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “Yeah. He told me. It’s impossible. They can wait until winter and go in when the dead are frozen.”

  “That’ll be too late.” She explained patiently. Jessie just didn’t understand. When he did, of course he would help them.

  “They need penicillin. Have you been in the clinic? A bottle of pills could save at least two people, ones just a baby. The nurse needs medical thread, she’s sewing up wounds with regular thread and it usually gets infected. Come on, I’ll show you.” She said and reached for his hand.

  “I don’t want to see.” He snapped in anger. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

  She looked hurt, she’d never seen him mad before. Grumpy and moody, sure, but he was genuinely pissed off. The sidewalks started quietly filling with people coming out from buildings. The nurse watched the exchange as the First Sergeant limped out and the patrol they’d met that morning led their horses in. Others watched silently. F
armers and mechanics. Men and women and children.

  “But they’re sick.” She tried again. “And we’re a good team. We can do it.”

  “Look, Natalie.” Jessie spat, his voice hard with anger. “Everybody has problems. Everybody needs something. They’ll bleed you dry and use you up if you let them. In the end you’ll have nothing.”

  “Am I using you up?” She asked in a small voice. “Am I bleeding you dry?”

  The anger suddenly left him and was replaced with loathing at what he’d become.

  “I know you need the Mona Lisa.” She said quietly so the others couldn’t hear. “I know you think it will help you stop thinking about Maddy. Maybe help you with the nightmares but...”

  “What do you know of Maddy?” Jessie asked in surprise. He’d never mentioned her to anyone.

  “She’s the one you dream about, isn’t she? You say her name sometimes.”

  No. Jessie thought. I dream of Scarlet. I dream of her smile, not Maddy’s.

  But he didn’t know for sure. He rarely remembered what his dreams were about, only that sometimes he woke up with a scream on his lips.”

  “I think I can help them.” She continued, almost whispering. “You have taught me much, Jessie. I am good with my guns; my armor is strong and you say I am brave. You saved my life and I can help to save others. It is only right.”

  Jessie stared down into her intense brown eyes and knew she believed what she was saying. She would lead a dozen fighters into a town filled with the undead and they would be overrun. It would be like Scarlet being overwhelmed in the alley behind the optometrist. She fought like a demon, like the Queen of the Cats, but she still got bit. With hordes of that size, there are no avenues of escape and too many to fight no matter how good you were.

  “I dream about Scarlet.” Jessie said, his mind pinballing across the years, trying to remember. Was it her or Maddy that had a habit of twisting her lips into a small half smile? Whose lips had he been dreaming of kissing?