Forget The Zombies (Book 2): Forget Texas

by Spears, R. J.

  I fell into a folding metal chair in front of his desk and basked in the air conditioning until he interrupted me.

  “You here for a reason, Grant?” he asked. “Or are you just enjoying the cool air?”

  “The cool air is nice, but I wanted to bring some shared concerns from the refugees in our tent.”

  “And they are?” he asked, gesturing with an open hand for me to continue.

  “We’ve heard that some of refugees were shot last night.”

  “That’s a load of horse hockey.”

  “Really? My sources are pretty good.”

  “And they would be?”

  “Some of your soldiers.”

  His face colored some and I could see he was holding back some internal combustion that was about to happen. “Who were these soldiers?”

  “So, you’re not denying what they said?”

  “Don’t go putting words in my mouth,” he said, sputtering some, but recovered. “No soldiers in my command would ever shoot a refugee. Period.”

  “But what about the ones outside your command?”

  Angry storm clouds filled his expression, but he brought out his own forces of sunshine to drive them away as his face cooled some and his pallor returned to normal. I guess he was slowly counting to ten inside.

  “Jensen, would you leave the room please?”

  The soldier standing just inside the door turned and asked, “Sir, are you sure?”

  “Yes, soldier, I’m sure. I can handle any trouble Mr. Grant here wants to throw my way.”

  “It’s just Grant,” I said.

  “Whatever,” Watson said.

  “I’ll be just outside the door, sir.” I’m not so sure he was resistant to leave because of the air conditioning, but orders were orders and soldiers were usually good at following them.

  Watson waited a few seconds, leaned forward, and spoke in a quiet voice, “I don’t have any direct knowledge of refugees being shot, but it could have happened. We have strict orders that no one is allowed to leave the camp. There can be no spread of the virus.”

  “So, you’re saying that if we wanted to leave, we couldn’t?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking me in the eye but then dropped his glance to his desk which was awash with paperwork.

  “We’re prisoners here is what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not saying that, but things are not good. We are seeing a much greater presence of the undead to the south. Larger than we had expected. We fully thought the fire bombings would have eradicated them, but there seems to more and more of them.”

  “You mean like the fire bombings of San Antonio that nearly killed me and all my friends?”

  For the second time, he failed to meet my stare.

  “We are under incredible and unprecedented pressure here, Mr. Grant. We have our orders that come directly out of Washington.” He stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose while he closed his eyes. “But I’m not sure what we’re doing is working.” There it was. As close to a confession as I could probably ever get out him and it was chilling me to my core. The whole thing was unraveling and the rest of the refugees were clueless.

  “Okay, since we’re having frank words here, what can you tell me about the reduction in soldiers here?” I asked.

  “There has been some re-distribution of troops.”

  “But are we safe?”

  He took a moment to answer. “I know the troops under my command will fight to the last man to keep the refugees safe.”

  “But you can’t speak for the other commanders?”

  This time he didn’t answer me at all. What was a chill earlier was now arctic and it wasn’t the air conditioning.

  “Okay, hypothetically, if some of the refugees, say my friends and I, wanted to leave, would you allow us?”

  “There’s nothing but back country scrub around here for miles. You wouldn’t get very far on foot. Plus there are the zombies.”

  “Would you provide us with transport?”

  “No, I can’t do that. Supplies and equipment are already spread dangerously thin. Also, we have our orders.”

  “So, as the world goes to shit around us, we can’t go anywhere and, most likely, we’ll either run out of food or, someday soon, we’ll be overrun by zombies. Is that just about it?”

  Once again, he wouldn’t answer, but there was something in his eyes. Maybe, I was reading too much into his expression, but it looked as if he were pleading with me to do something — to save myself because he was honor bound to obey his orders, right or wrong.

  I didn’t really know what to do, but numbness spread across me as I stood and walked out. My body and soul seemed to be in two different universes as I stumbled out the door.

  The sound of gunfire filtered on the late afternoon air from the south. On most days, there was some shooting, but this seemed heavier than usual.

  I walked along in a haze barely knowing where my feet were taking me. At some point, a twenty-something guy wearing a rainbow colored beanie cap strolled up beside me as I walked, watching me with a sideways glance, a glint of recognition in his eyes. For my part, I could only wonder how or why the hell someone would wear a knit cap in 100 degree heat, but logic seemed out the window in a world full of zombies.

  Then it came to him. “Hey man, you’re the ‘Fuck the Alamo’ guy. Super cool, man,” he said and put up a hand for me to high five him, but I didn’t have the strength or inclination to do so. I always knew that phrase would come back to haunt me.

  Note to self: never talk to reporters or any media for that matter.

  “Hey, you just saw the big Kahuna?” he asked as he continued to walk along with me.

  “What?”

  “You know, Herr Commandant Watson. You saw him. Talked to him.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And what’s your point?”

  “What did he say? What’s the lowdown? We bugging out or what?”

  “Why would we bug out?”

  “You know, man. Because the soldiers are disappearing. Because there’s a shit ton of zombies coming up from the south to munch down on us.”

  So, more than just a few people were noticing what was going on at the camp while I seemed oblivious.

  “Listen,” I started, but stopped. “What’s your name?”

  “Jay.”

  “Listen, Jay, I’ve got a lot on my mind. I think I’ll just head back to my tent and I hope you have a great evening.”

  “Me and my lady and my buddy Huck, we’re thinking about busting out of here.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “The guards will shoot you.”

  “Nah man, I’ve got the inside track.”

  I must have looked puzzled. “Oh yeah, man. I’ve got a soldier friend, we’re really tight. He’d probably look the other way if we decided to, you know, exit stage right.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked.

  “Because I’m supplying him. You know,” he said and pinched his index finger and thumb together and brought them up to his mouth and made a sucking sound. He squinted as he did it, savoring the mock sensation and drifting away in his reverie.

  “How would you get anywhere?” I asked, breaking out his trip down memory lane. “You know there’s nothing around for miles.”

  It was his turn to give me a puzzled look. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  I let some thoughts percolate for a moment as he tried to muddle his way through how he would make it across the vast wasteland around us.

  I finally worked out a decision and asked him, “What’s your soldier friend’s name and when is he on duty?”

  It took a hell of a lot of convincing, but the clincher was the almost constant sound of gunfire from the south. I also pointed out the increased activity around the camp. Bill still didn’t buy in fully, but said he play along. At least for now.

  I gathered our merry little band and we headed toward the northernmost guard station. Jay insisted that his lady, Jane, and his buddy Huck co
me along. He said he wouldn’t make the introduction with his guard friend if they weren’t included the departing group.

  Jay and Huck were a contradiction in almost every way. While Jay was lanky and long, Max was big and wide. Where Jay was laid back, Huck was jittery and nervous, almost furtive in his actions, his eyes deep set and hooded. The ‘Lady Jane’ wasn’t anything I expected either. I pictured Jay with Rastafarian princess, but she was as button down as the come. While she wasn’t in a business suit, there was something formal about her attire and demeanor. And she wasn’t hard on the eyes. Her jet black hair was cut short with a slight wave, sometimes falling and covering her penetrating aquamarine eyes.

  Mack took an instant disliking to Jay, but it was to be expected. If it wasn’t straight arrow and right of center, Mack didn’t like it. Not at all.

  “Just keep it cool, guys,” Jay said as we approached the guard checkpoint.

  “Cool my ass,” Bill said. “We’re perfectly safe in the camp.”

  Mack did a complete reversal and sided with Bill and said, “Grant, what are we doing with these bozos?”

  “Mack, we’ve been over this,” I said, “Things may be safe now, but it seems like they won’t be for long.”

  “And old dude,” Huck said getting in Mack’s face, “don’t call us bozos.”

  “What kind of name is Huck?” Mack said, every bit as confrontational as Huck.

  “It comes from literature. You ever read a book?” Huck asked.

  They faced off like two bulls painted red and the paint was really gasoline.

  “Boys, boys,” Joni said stepping between them, “let’s take it down a notch.”

  “Yeah, Huck, dial it back,” Jane said, looking southward. “We could have bigger problems than your fragile male ego.”

  Mack and Huck eased back a little as they parted. Huck looked a little more bruised from Jane’s comment, though.

  “Which one’s your guy?” I asked Jay as I peered past the stacks of sandbags topped with razor wire. The guard towers sat inside a fence that separated it from the rest the camp like a small guarded encampment within the bigger camp. The entire complex was surrounded with barbed wire fences — some electrified, some not. Well-marked landmines lay around the perimeter, too. Zombies couldn’t read, so that was one thing worked in our favor. More than a few had wandered into the minefield and been blown to smithereens. There was nothing quite like having zombie parts rain down all over you when one of them stepped on a mine.

  “That’s him there,” Jay said pointing at a solid looking guy standing next to a guard tower.

  “What’s the play, Jay?” I said, trying to keep things loose.

  “You a poet?” He asked in all seriousness.

  “No,” I said.

  “Really? You have a way with words. That rhyming thing was nice.” I could see him working with the rhyming of Jay and play and watched as he silently mouthed each word. Jay, play, ray, say, gay, may…I decided it had break it up.

  “So, are you going to go to him or get his attention somehow?” I asked.

  “We have a secret signal. I put my hat on backwards.” He reached up and swiveled his rainbow colored beanie around on his head which mystified me because it looked pretty much the same whichever way it sat. It must have worked because the stocky soldier broke off his conversation with another soldier and started our way with his head down.

  When he got to Jay, he stopped and eyed the whole group of us before talking. It didn’t look like we got a positive appraisal.

  “Who the hell are these people, Jay?” he asked.

  “These are my friends,” Jay said, smiling. “This is—” he stopped and looked at me, his face a blank, his smile fading. Boy, we were in trouble.

  “Grant,” I said sticking my hand through the fence. “Me and Jay go way back.”

  The soldier looked at it and scowled. This wasn’t going all that well.

  A hand came through the fence from our direction and it was holding a sealed sandwich bag stuffed full of what I suspected was cannabis. The hand was connected to Jay’s arm and he was smiling from ear-to-ear.

  “It’s my best stuff,” he said.

  The soldier stepped forward, blocking the hand from view.

  “Cool it, Jay,” he said in a hushed tone while taking the bag and stuffing inside his pants pocket. He took a furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking. The place seemed more active than normal with soldiers moving Humvees, supplies, and weapons around in a frantic fashion. Something was going down.

  “You probably shouldn’t have come now,” the soldier said. “Things are a little busy.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll know you’ll want it later,” Jay said, trying to sell it.

  The soldier looked down for a moment, then back up to Jay. “I can get you some extra food like normal, but not right now.”

  “Oh man, we don’t want food,” Jay said.

  The soldier scrunched up his face and said, “What do you want then?”

  “We want out. Me and my friends.”

  “You mean out of the camp?”

  “Yeah, like to go free,” Jay said, imitating a bird flying with one his hands while whistling an off-key bird-like song. “Like free as a bird, man.”

  “No can do,” the soldier said sternly. “That’s strictly against orders.”

  “That’s not what you told us before,” Huck said, pushing his face near to the fence. “You said for the right price, we could skate on out of here.”

  “No,” the soldier said as he rubbed his chin. “Well, yes, but not a whole group of you. I’d get caught moving this many people through.”

  “Wouldn’t you be in bigger trouble for buying illegal drugs?” I asked.

  The soldier’s head jerked in my direction. “What the hell are you talking about? You threatening me?”

  “No, I’m just asking — what would Colonel Watson say if he knew you were buying pot? And what would he say if he knew you were letting refugees go?”

  “I didn’t say anything about letting refugees go.”

  “But you have, haven’t you?”

  His eyes fell to his feet. Busted. But then he rallied. “Just because you know something about me doesn’t mean I’m going to let you out. Besides, where are you going go on foot? The closest town is thirty miles away.”

  The sound of shots which had been more distant just a few minutes ago seemed a lot closer. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder to the south because my gut told me that there was only bad news coming from that direction.

  “We’ll figure that out if you get us out of the gate,” I said and locked my eyes on his. Stare down was a game I played with my friends as a kid. Whoever blinked or looked away lost. I only hoped that the rules still applied.

  This went on for a few seconds before he blinked. I sighed inside.

  “Meet me around at the gate on the west side of this guard post in five,” he said, exhaling loudly while his shoulders fell.

  Something big was happening to the south. Usually the shots fired in the past were sporadic and only singles shots, soldiers taking out solo wandering zombies. That night, I heard the report of automatic weapons being fired and it wasn’t sporadic, but more constant.

  I didn’t say anything, but just urged our people to make haste. It was difficult to move this many people without attracting attention, but the commotion to the south was keeping most eyes there.

  The west gate was blocked from view by a set of tents so we had that working for us. Jay’s soldier friend kept to his word and was standing there with the gate open allowing us access to the north guard post. This guard post was large enough to house several big tents, a bevy of Army vehicles, plus the two elevated guard towers. Getting inside there was only a first step, though. We had to make it out the main north exterior gate next. We also needed a ride and some weapons, but Jay’s soldier friend didn’t know about that yet.

  He led us to a tent out of way and to
ld us to cool our heels there for a few minutes. The tent had two jeeps and boxes were stacked waist high covering much of the space. Just outside the tent was a Deuce and a Half standard Army issue truck. I had found our ride.

  “Hey Grant, what do you think is going on the south end of the camp?” Sammy asked.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of shooting going on tonight,” Joni added.

  “I have no idea,” I lied. “It’s not a good thing, but it could work in our favor.”

  “What do you mean?” Mack asked with some skepticism.

  “It will cover our escape.”

  The soldier returned then and said, “They’re moving some of the guys south. As soon as they make their move, I’ll get you to the gate.” Sweat poured off him in small rivers and it wasn’t all from the heat.

  “What’s happening?” I asked. “And don’t bullshit me.”

  He licked his lips and said, “There’s been a significant zombie incursion on the south end of the camp.”

  “What do you mean by significant?” I asked.

  Significant got its definition just then as a fireball bloomed like an ominous flower in the night sky to the south. The sound came next, a booming hollow noise rolling like thunder across the camp. I took an involuntary step back even though the spectacle was hundreds of yards away.

  Time was up. For us and the soldier.

  He stood gaped mouth staring at the fireball to the south. It was a shitty thing to do, but I sucker punched him as he started to turn back around. I felt sort of bad about punching him like that, but it didn’t stop me from doing it. It was a solid punch that connected with his jaw and knocked him out before he hit the ground. I was sort of proud of my work, but was ashamed at having to do it.

  “Everybody,” I shouted, “check these crates for weapons and grab what you can. Get water and food, too. We’re getting out of here.”

  Between the fireball to the south and the fact that I had just knocked the soldier out, they all stood in stunned silence.