by Jack J. Lee
Mike and his BFF, Alex Wu had revolutionized how the SaLTs explored new territory. They now did it from the air in PPCs. Cecilia wanted Mike to get back into medicine. She was constantly bugging him about it. He thought that he was doing a lot more good as a Zomboy. Cecilia’s belief that Mike wasn’t living up to his potential was one of the reasons why they were always arguing. She couldn’t stand the thought of him constantly putting his life at risk. I knew that she wasn’t just worried about Mike but also the other two men who had been at his house from September to November. Cecilia was close to both Alex and Wayne. I could tell she was torn. She was happy that Mike and Alex were safe, yet was also devastated about what had happened to Wayne.
“By the way, Helen, have you told him about the baby?”
“No. There wasn’t any time and we were never alone.”
“You have to tell him. Especially since you’re planning on keeping it and he’s leaving for war!”
I’ve been dating Mark since the barbecue in early March. It took me awhile to decide what I wanted with him. While I appreciated his being upfront about his inability to be monogamous, his honesty still shocked me. I’m originally from rural Nebraska. I wasn’t raised to accept this kind of behavior. If a man couldn’t commit wholeheartedly, well he certainly wasn’t good enough for me. But the more I thought about it, the more comfortable I’ve become with his explanation. This last year has taught me that nothing in life is certain. Since the Outbreak, I’ve been a major part of the rebuilding process. It’s been hard, demanding work, but it’s given me a new sense of purpose and fulfillment.
With Mark, I don’t have to worry about feeling guilty that I don’t always have the time or energy for him.
I lost my virginity to a grad student in my freshman year. While getting my doctorate I had a fling with a Nobel Prize laureate. My lovers in the past had been kind, intelligent, and considerate. Having sex for me had been a way of getting closer to a man I thought I could grow to love. The sex was never unpleasant but I would never have described it as fun.
For the first time in my life I was with a man because he was sexy and made me laugh. It was strangely and wonderfully liberating to not worry about the future with Mark. From the very beginning his motto was to enjoy the here and now, to my surprise I’ve found that it worked for me too.
Then, I was late. I rummaged through our community pharmaceutical supplies and found a pregnancy test. According to the package insert, it was 99% accurate seven days following a missed period. It was positive. I honestly hadn’t seen this coming. Other than the first time, we had always taken the proper precautions.
Cecelia noticed the complete look of shock on my face and I had to confide in her. After some screaming and cursing, laughing and crying, we finally got some perspective. I’m 33 years old and I’ve never met a man I wanted to marry but I’ve always wanted a child. Mark has his problems, but none of them are genetic. He’s intelligent, healthy, and athletic. As sperm donor, I could do much worse. I decided to keep the baby.
These last few weeks have been wonderful but despite how much time we’ve spent together, I have no idea how Mark’s going to react to the news. I knew that he would be brutally honest and that our relationship would change.
I wanted to tell him immediately but didn’t know how to start. I had already blown my chance after today’s emergency meeting and I knew he would be busy getting the SaLTs ready to go down south for the rest of the day. The father of my baby was headed off to war in the morning. He might not come back. I might lose him, this baby, or both. As I comforted Cecilia, I could feel tears well up in my eyes. I was crying for both of us.
Chapter 20: Mark Jones, April 11th, Year 1
There are times when I hate being right. I expected the FLDS to act up and I knew Hiram would lead from the front. Hearing that he and half his men had been captured didn’t surprise me. The news of what had happened to the Southern Expedition spread like wildfire through the Fortress. The Salt Lake Troopers were popular. Many of our citizens had been rescued by the SaLTs.
Hiram Rockwell was a Mormon Sir Galahad. He tried to hide it by putting up a tough front and cursing a lot, but the man was a saint (pun intended). His defining trait and the source of his strength was that he was an amazingly simple man. He believed in his God, and the absolute necessity of doing the right thing regardless of the consequences. For a guy who was really good at violence, he gave off an unusual sense of inner peace. He knew who he was and was ok with it.
To tell the truth, Hiram was a little scary. You did not want to be someone he thought was evil, but we lived in scary times. Whether you believed in the presence of true evil or not, it was comforting to know that Hiram was at your back standing between you and the forces of darkness.
When our citizens heard that he and his men had been trapped by the FLDS, they got pissed. They wanted our men back and the FLDS punished.
There was no way that we could rebuild the US if we allowed pockets of wacko cults and dictatorships to exist. For all the reasons that I had discussed with Hiram, Art, and Jim, we needed to let the FLDS take the first shot against us. Logic convinced me that I was doing the right thing. I got everything I wanted--and I felt like shit.
I called an emergency council meeting. There weren’t any dissenting votes. If our men were not immediately released unharmed, we would be at war with the FLDS. I had approval to go down south with all the active duty SaLTs.
Our homeland defense force was made up of the Valkyries and the Reserves. The Valkyries are a defense force of about 2,000 women led by Helen Hansen and Emma Dietrich. They aren’t SaLTs, but they all knew how to shoot. All of them had been toughened by their experiences over the last year. Many of them had watched helplessly as vampires and zombies fed on their loved ones. They were women defending their families and their homes. Art Bingham and the rest of the council were in charge of the reserves made up of around 1,000 older men and teenage boys. I was confident that the Fortress would be safe in our absence.
The SaLTs couldn’t leave until Beiger Industries finished modifying our Mark II Armored Personnel Carriers. Beiger Industries was one of the largest and most successful start-ups post-Outbreak. Before the Outbreak, Sara Beiger had been a successful sculptor. Lisa was her manager and life partner. They had gotten married in Canada. Their focus was on metal fabrication and their primary customer was the ‘government.’
Life is full of irony. Before the Outbreak Sara and Lisa had been peaceniks and had demonstrated against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. They were now the largest military suppliers in Utah which likely meant the entire world. The Beigers didn’t have a problem killing vampires and zombies but the thought of helping the SaLTs fight and even kill other people was tearing them up from the inside. They hid it well. The Beiger’s knew all the captured SaLTs personally. They wanted them back safe as much as anyone else.
The National Guard Armory at Camp Williams was a crucial supply source for us. The Beigers were scrambling to fit interchangeable mounts for the M2 .50 Caliber Heavy Machine Gun (HMG) and M252 81 mm Mortars on top of our APCs. In War World I and II, 50 Caliber Heavy Machine Gun rounds were used to take out tanks. The M252 Mortar was accurate up to 3.5 miles and could fire fifteen 81 mm rounds a minute. There wasn’t a wall or fortification in Utah that couldn’t be taken down by 81 mm rounds.
In politics, perceptions matter. I had decided months ago that our greatest threat wouldn’t be from zombies or vampires but other humans. Fifty caliber machine guns and mortar rounds were overkill or useless against monsters. It would have been more efficient to have these mounts made when the APCs were first built but I could not risk looking like I was preparing to take down other American citizens until it was absolutely clear, to even the most diehard peace activist in Fortress Salt Lake, that we had been attacked first.
There were 500 survivors from Cedar City who needed transport back to Salt Lake City. The plan was to bring ten lightly armored metro buses and all four of
the APCs we had left. The buses were ok for daytime travel but were death traps at night. A vampire could claw through one in seconds.
By late evening, the mounts were ready. All the APCs had two interchangeable weapon mounts installed on the rooftop observation decks. The M2 HMGs were placed on the mounts in front of the APC and the M252 Mortars on the ones in the back. We brought extra weapons for the APC in Cedar City.
At first light we left the Fortress. It took eight-and-a-half hours to get to Cedar City. Hiram and his men had done a good job clearing I-15. The entire highway was clear and we only came across a few zombies.
After Hiram and the others had been captured, Corporal Jackson decided that the East Center Street Ward was no longer secure. He moved all the civilians to the Cedar Ridge Golf Course Clubhouse. He figured that even though the building had not been fortified, the civilians would be safer there overnight.
When we arrived, it was a mad house. The events of the past 24 hours had left the civilians on the edge of hysteria. No one had gotten any sleep. Luckily they had not been attacked in the night. Most of the zombies in Cedar City had been destroyed and the Southern Expedition had killed a vampire in Cedar City two nights ago. On October 10th, last year, we were attacked by multiple vampires. On every other occasion since then when we came across vampires they were solitary. Vampires were likely territorial. The odds were good that we would not get another in the area for at least a week.
It was too late in the day to send the civilians back to Salt Lake. I took some time to help calm them down and answer questions. We fortified the area as best we could while sentries with dogs stood guard. At nightfall, we packed as many of the women and children into the APCs as we could and the rest of us slept in the clubhouse and the metro buses. With twenty sentries and the dogs, there was little chance of us being surprised during the night. We had brought steel panels to armor the clubhouse from vampires but it would take days to install them. The situation was sub-optimal. Still, we were reasonably secure.
I am a light sleeper. Snoring drives me crazy. Get a few guys in one room overnight and I will guarantee that at least one will snore. Rank has its privileges and I got a room to myself. I made sure a .44 magnum and my sword were close at hand.
My revolver was a tool; I love my sword. It’s the only irreplaceable thing I own. There are probably only a couple hundred swords of equal quality and almost all of those were in Japan.
Chapter 21: Mark Jones, April 11th and 12th, Year 1
I had finally fallen asleep when I felt a tap on my forehead.
Like I said, I’m a light sleeper. The slightest noise usually wakes me up. My men would have knocked before entering my room. As I opened my eyes, I used one motion to draw my katana and strike at a dark figure standing over me. My sword clanged as it hit something metallic. My blade was almost twisted from my grasp.
I thrust myself up out of bed into the figure. As I struggled to free my weapon, I kicked at the intruder’s knee. I was surprised when I didn’t make contact. My balance was thrown off. Something hard hit me just behind the corner of my right jaw. The world exploded with pain. For a split second, I blacked out.
I heard a chuckle, “That’s a nerve cluster,” a voice said. “A poke there is usually quite painful. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to have a conversation.”
My troops were well trained. We had sentries out. Whoever this was, he could not have gotten into my room without disabling my men. No one hurts one of mine and gets away with it. I lunged. I had one goal. I was going to bury my sword into this asshole. When I felt my blade hit metal, I pulled, shifted directions, and lunged again. Each time I thrust, my blade was caught.
This wasn’t working. I jumped back and reached down toward my revolver. ‘Shit!’ It wasn’t there. Just as I realized this, my right hand went numb and I dropped my sword.
“Director Jones, it’s been fun sparring with you but that’s not why I’m here. I assure you that I haven’t harmed your men and I have no desire to hurt you.”
“You call beating the shit out of me sparring?”
“I apologize for waking you up without notice, but really, all I’ve been doing since is defending myself.”
“Who the hell are you? Why are you in my room?”
My opponent lit a candle and set it on a table. He was about my height, maybe a tad shorter. He was in his late 20’s, early 30’s. He had a runner’s build. He was a lot stronger than he looked. He was the first person I’ve met who made me feel slow. I looked at his weapons.
“What the hell! Are those hand rakes?”
He grinned and then twirled two 6-inch long three pronged garden tools around his hands and wrists like he was in a low budget martial arts movie. He even made a “waah” sound. He would have been funnier if he had been mocking someone else but he was still funny. Even though he made me feel like a bumbling fool, I had to chuckle.
He said, “Actually, the proper name for these tools is hand cultivators, four dollars and ninety-nine cents retail from the Sears catalog. I’m sorry about the nicks my cultivators made on your sword. I’m sure that the damage will buff out.”
I started laughing. My sword had been designed to cut through armor. I knew it hadn’t been permanently damaged. He was skilled enough to be telling the truth. I believed him when he said that he hadn’t hurt my men. I liked to think I was a badass. I had a museum quality hundred thousand dollar samurai sword, and had just gotten my ass handed to me by a guy holding ten dollars worth of gardening tools. I leaned up against the wall.
“Tell me what you want. I guess you’ve earned a conversation with me.”
“Allow me introduce myself. I’m the FLDS Prophet, Ari Levin.”
I reached for my sword.
“Hold on. Hold on. Please do NOT make me use my garden tools. Please, hear what I have to say.”
I stopped. He was right. Garden tools or not, I was outclassed. If he had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.
“Ok, have your say.”
Levin told an interesting story. He became the FLDS prophet shortly after the zombie outbreak. Since then the FLDS had split into two factions. One led by him, the other by one of his wives who happened to be a psychotic sadist. The factions had been on the verge of civil war when his psychotic wife captured Hiram and his men.
Levin swore that he didn’t have the political pull to save my men. He predicted that his wife would kill them one by one over the next few weeks. He said he would be happy if I wiped out the FLDS in Hildale and Colorado City. He asked that I leave his people alone. He said that they were located 16 miles east of Colorado City. After he said his piece, he shook my hand and calmly walked out of my room closing the door behind him.
I followed him. He wasn’t in the hall. I called out for my men. We got the dogs and searched the whole clubhouse. We couldn’t find him. None of my men were injured. In fact, I was the only one who had even seen him. I was tempted to start yelling but I controlled myself. Levin was skilled enough to make me look incompetent. It wasn’t my men’s fault.
After we went through the clubhouse three times without finding any sign of Levin, I called off the search. I didn’t buy the idea that the FLDS prophet had supernatural powers but the guy was good. I couldn’t figure out how he had disappeared. I believed his story. He could have easily killed me while I was asleep. He hadn’t. There was no reason for him to lie.
Chapter 22: Ari Levin, October 9th and 10th, Year 0
Twelve of Darren Jeffries’ wives moved to New Zion, seven of them quickly married other men. Five decided to move in with me. The rest stayed at Colorado City. Alice the oldest of my wives was 32. Janelle the youngest was 18. Esther, Miriam, and Catrina were in their mid twenties. Rulon and Darren had good taste. All were attractive. They were thin, blond and looked like sisters. Miriam and Catrina looked so much alike I sometimes mixed them up.
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I would have been ecstatic about the idea of having sex with s
ix different women. Fantasy is better than reality. Six women were too much of a good thing. Each of my wives in New Zion got one night of the week with me and every other weekend I went into Colorado City to spend a night with Rachel.
Rachel was the worst because she was twisted and crazy. She wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if she had also been stupid. My psychotic wife knew she didn’t fit my long term plans and I certainly didn’t fit into hers. Both of us knew the current situation was unstable. For now neither of us wanted to deal with the fallout of killing the other. In the meantime she was enjoying herself and I wasn’t. Unlike her, the knowledge that the person I was with wanted to kill me didn’t excite me. Fortunately, she didn’t need to actually have sex to be satisfied. It was good that I have an inventive mind and that uncertainty, anticipation, and pain got her off.
From time to time I had to prove that I was her husband. There was no way I could have performed on those occasions without help. Luckily this was fairly common problem among the older FLDS. It was humiliating to need help for ‘erectile dysfunction’ but I’m a realist. I take what life hands me.
I knew that I needed to come up with a final solution for Rachel and the rest of the assholes. My objections to them weren’t moral. Their sort of evil is inherently stupid and self-destructive. The FLDS were most likely the largest group of survivors for at least a hundred miles. Due to their numbers and ruthlessness, the Colorado City FLDS would do well for months or years. Inevitably they were going to meet up with a group as large or larger. Rachel and her supporters were certain that the world was now theirs to abuse. Their default response to any non-FLDS was to try to enslave them. Their system would work until the day it didn’t. When their system failed it was going to be catastrophic. I needed to keep my people out of the upcoming crossfire.
