The Zombie Wars: We All Fall Down (The White Flag series Book 9)

by Joseph Talluto

  “What the hell were they thinking coming up this road?” Charlie said, gritting his teeth as we crawled over a sizable log.

  “I’m going to guess they got lost in the dark and just bulled their way through,” I said. “You know what Haggerty was like.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Don’t like talking about him in the past tense.”

  “Same here. But we’ll even the score,” I said.

  “And then some,” Charlie said.

  We reached an open area where the road crossed a small stream. The streambed was wide and flat with a small bit of water peeking through the snow. The streambed cleared a path through the trees while the road took a turn up the mountain and disappeared in a tangle of trees and branches.

  Charlie stopped the truck on the far side of the stream. “I think I got a clear idea why they turned astray,” he said.

  “Same here. In the dark, that stream bed would look like a road,” I said.

  “Do we take the same route?”

  “Not if we want to get caught the same way. I think we want to head up this road, see where it goes. Might be better if we walked anyway,” I replied.

  “I was thinking the same thing. How we going in?” Charlie asked.

  “I think we’re in hostile territory as it is. I say we go in hard and get to the bottom this mess,” I said.

  “What do we do with Cheyenne?” Charlie asked. At the sound of her name, the little beagle perked up with her ears on alert.

  I scratched her head and patted her until she settled down. “We’ll have to take her with us.”

  “What happens if we run into trouble?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” I said.

  “Screw it. I have an idea,” Charlie said. “Let’s get moving.” He rummaged behind his seat and came up with a small duffel bag. Taking out the contents, Charlie replaced them with the dog, who was content to ride at Charlie’s hip.

  “I guess she’s happy with it,” I said, getting my vest and backpack on. I put on my balaclava and made sure my gloves were secure. I wasn’t worried about zombie gloop as much as I was about getting cold. We were in the mountains at the far end of January, after all.

  We headed up the old trail keeping as inconspicuous as possible. The trees masked our approach, and the snow kept our footsteps silent. Cheyenne was cooperative and just rode at Charlie’s side, her little nose was the only thing she stuck out of the bag, and I could see here just sniffing away at the air as we moved.

  The trail took us through several cleared areas that were being reclaimed by nature in stages. You could almost mark the years of inactivity by the amount of growth that was returning the cleared areas to forest again.

  We walked further into the woods, and that’s when Charlie suddenly handed me Cheyenne and his rifle.

  “We’re not alone. I’ll be right back,” was all he said before he stepped off the road and disappeared into the woods. I slung the beagle bag over my shoulder and added Charlie’s rifle as well. I walked forward, rifle at the ready, keeping to the edge of the woods. A quick look down showed me that the little nose that had been outside the bag since the walk began was gone. I peeked inside the bag and saw a small sleeping dog who opened half an eye at me as if to say I needed to close the zipper again.

  Suddenly, there was a thumping sound like somebody ran into a tree. Brush cracked and snapped as something ran through the undergrowth without trying to be quiet. It was the sound of something trying to escape whatever it was that had found it.

  The forest burst apart in front of me, and a dark-haired man fell to his knees as the resistance of the brush suddenly gave way. He stood up and looked wildly around. His eyes fell on me and grew as wide as dinner plates. He grabbed at the gun at his hip and I stepped forward, slamming my fist into his jaw. He fell backwards and lay there for a second, blinking and staring at the sky.

  When his eyes refocused, he found the barrel of my rifle uncomfortably close to his nose. He tried to back his head up, but the ground wasn’t being cooperative.

  “Hello,” I said, smiling. “I think you’re going to help me.”

  The man worked his jaw and stared at the rifle. “Why would I do that if you’re just going to kill me anyway?”

  I nodded. “You could tell yourself that. But is that the way to go? I need information. You have it. Just tell me what I want to know, and you can go.”

  “You’ll let me go?”

  “Yup.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll wait for the man that flushed you out of the woods to come here and let you be exercise for one of his knives. You’ll talk. They always do.” I stepped back and kept my rifle on the man who was clearly agitated by the thought of Charlie coming for him again.

  “All right! Just head up the trail. There’s a wall and after that a bridge. Then you’ll be in the community,” the man said.

  “That’s what I figured,” I said. I motioned for the man to get up. “One more thing. How are the people in the canyon? Are they okay?”

  The man shook his head. “They’re alive, most of them anyway. Boss’ son dropped a section of cliff on the tunnel they were digging through the rubble of the first landslide. Killed six or seven of them. Boss’ son took a woman out of the canyon, then threw her back in. Might have been their other leader.”

  Charlie emerged from the woods at that moment. “Her name was Alice,” he said. “So your boss and his son have killed several of our people. All right. Run back to them, and let them know we are coming.” Charlie reached out and took the man’s weapons. “Go.”

  The man turned and headed up the trail and soon disappeared. I handed Charlie his rifle back and swung the bag ‘o dog over to him as well. He took a moment to check on Cheyenne who rewarded his attention with a small lick on his hand. Charlie fed her a couple of pieces of jerky and then took her out of the bag. She yawned and stretched, then scampered off to go and relieve herself. She trotted back and crawled back into the bag, getting snow all over it.

  “Smarter than we are,” I said.

  “Hmm. How do you want to play this?” Charlie asked.

  “Not sure yet. My feelings are to kill this boss and his son just for good measure, and throw their carcasses into the canyon. But I have a feeling there’s something more here, so we’ll play it by ear,” I said, running a quick hand over my vest to check for mags and reloads.

  “Well, they’ll know we’re coming, anyway,” Charlie said.

  “Right. And their response will tell us how to play it. If they try to ambush or straight up kill us, we know what to do. If they try some sort of bluff—”

  “Then we deal with the head of the snake. Got it.” Charlie checked his mags as well and made sure his ‘hawks were ready to hand. Charlie actually had two sets of tomahawks. The first set, which he had with him forever, were regular fighting tomahawks. They were with him most of the time. The other set, which he liked to call his War ‘Hawks, were of a different variety. These tomahawks were heavier, had a larger blade, and had a spike on the end opposite the blade to balance the weapon. He could throw those things fifty yards with serious accuracy, and in a zombie situation, they were downright fearsome. The War ‘Hawks rode in their harness on Charlie’s back right now.

  We kept to the trail and stayed alert. The footprints of the man we had released were sign enough that we were headed the right way.

  About an hour into our walk, we started to see signs of activity. The clearings we had passed earlier were much more clear now, and it looked like there was a serious effort at some kind of farming. Through the trees we could see livestock, so it stood to reason that these people were doing pretty well, all things considered. I was hoping we could get through this without a protracted fight as it seemed these people really just wanted to survive.

  “Funny thing,” Charlie said suddenly.

  “What’s that?”

  “All they had to do was just help them out of the
canyon, and we’d never have cared this place existed,” he said.

  “Very true. What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a structure through the trees.

  “Not sure, but the trail leads right to it, just like the footprints do,” Charlie said.

  I looked through the trees, but I couldn’t really tell what it was. It seemed like it was a wooden fence, but this fence was ten feet high.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s take a shortcut.”

  We moved through the trees keeping as quiet as we could. Every ten steps or so we would stop and just look around and listen for any sound that might betray an ambusher.

  About ten feet from the edge of the clearing, we were able to see the obstacle much clearer. It was a wall made from trees, like a stockade from the old western movies. This one was much newer, though, and had the look of being moved several times. The wood was grey with raw blond areas where nails had been ripped out from previous building.

  The wall stretched from one end of a clearing to the next, and it seemed like it went on for quite a distance. That wasn’t the interesting part. The interesting part was the trio of men standing on the other side of the wall. They were standing on some kind of platform because they were just hovering about six feet off the ground. One of them was a large man who literally looked like he had been carved out of the mountain itself. The other was a tall young man who looked enough like the other one to be a relation of some kind. The third couldn’t have been more different if he tried. He was shorter than the other two, with a darker complexion. His high cheekbones and black hair spoke of some kind of Native American descent, and he seemed much more alert than the other two. He looked right at us, but we were far enough in the brush that he couldn’t make us out. There were two men standing outside the wall by what must have been the door, and we could see four more men walking along the wall further down.

  “Thoughts?” Charlie asked.

  “Let’s let the four men walk further away, then I’ll get to the edge. You get over to the other side of the road and stay quiet. I want you to be a surprise. But if you feel the need to get into action, go right ahead,” I said.

  “You got it.”

  Charlie slipped away and I went over to the edge of the woods. I kept an eye on the four walking away, and when I figured they were far enough out, I brought my rifle up and shot the two men at the gate. I was aiming for their legs and dropped them both. I stepped back into the woods and listened while the men on the platform cursed and shouted orders. I watched the four men come running up along the wall, and from a different firing position, I shot the two lead men, this time near the shoulders. The second man I hit a little lower than I wanted to, and I may have punched a hole in his lung. Whoops.

  The second two men skidded to a halt to help their comrades, and as they were bending over, I shot them both in the ass. Four more men lay yelling and cursing on the ground while the leaders on the platform had ducked down behind cover.

  For a minute, the only sound was the cries of the wounded, then a deep voice came barreling over the top of the wall.

  “Who’s out there? Stop shooting, damn you! Let us get our wounded!”

  I chose not to reply. Instead I trained my rifle on the stockade door. When it opened a crack, I sent another bullet through it, hitting something on the other side and raising a fresh cloud of swearing. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

  “God damn it! What do you want?”

  I still didn’t answer. These men had been in control for so long it was time to give them a taste of what uncontrolled looked like. For a long time, it was silent save for the groaning and whimpering of the wounded men.

  I waited for a little while longer, then I stepped out of the woods. I kept my rifle aimed at the spot where the former heads of state had been, figuring if things went sideways I could part the hairline of at least two of them. As far as I knew, Charlie hadn’t gotten involved yet, so it remained to be seen how they would react to just little ol’ me.

  “I want Cole Hobbes!” I shouted. “Bring him out now!”

  Three heads slowly rose over the top of the wall. The first one to see me was a young man with cruel eyes. Back in the day when I was a teacher, I remember being careful of kids that had eyes like that. They were,to achild, difficult human beings.

  That young man was holding a scoped rifle, and he began to bring it to bear. I quickly pointed my rifle at his head.

  “You’ll die a second after you point that at me,” I said.

  Something in my tone must have told him on a primitive level that I wasn’t kidding around, that his life was actually at stake. He held the rifle aloft then grabbed it with his off hand. He placed it against the stockade wall but in such a way that he could grab it quickly. I shook my head at him, but he wasn’t the one I wanted.

  The second head was the dark-haired man who looked like he was more at home in the woods than the other two. His eyes were calm and calculating, and even at this distance, I could see him working the angles in his mind. He was looking at the six men I had already put down and the willingness I had in pulling the trigger. If I had to place the man in the world, I’d have said he was a survivor. No matter what happened, he would be the one who survived.

  The last head to see me was a very large one. He stared at me with undisguised anger, and I knew he would be the one that would give me the most trouble. I was tempted to pull the trigger right then, but that wouldn’t get my people out. I needed him to get his people in line, and killing him outright, as much as I would feel better about it, wouldn’t get the job done.

  “What do you want? You got a lot of nerve showing up here and shooting my men! I ought to have you shot right now!” the large man, who I assumed was Cole, blustered and fumed.

  “Have me shot?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you rather have me thrown off a cliff?”

  Cole stared at me, and I knew he was trying to figure out how to get to me. But while he may have been a decent leader who got his people out of trouble, he knew nothing else.

  “I didn’t throw anyone off a cliff,” Cole said with a smirk. “Your commander’s rope broke.”

  I put the red dot of my rifle’s scope on his head. My hand was tightening on the grip, and I was massaging that trigger when suddenly there was a metallic ringing sound, like a hammer hitting a rock. The man standing next to Cole suddenly stood up straight, his eyes staring at the tomahawk that had crashed through his forehead and pierced his brain. He died in shock, toppling over the wall to land heavily on the ground below.

  “Jesus!” Cole and the other man dropped out of sight, screaming and cursing. The blade had missed him by mere inches. I ran forward, watching as Charlie emerged from the woods. He hadn’t seen any action on his side, so I guess he got bored.

  He reached down and yanked the ‘hawk out of the man’s face. The blood poured out of the wound, staining the ground.

  Charlie swung the axe, flinging the blood away, then slammed into the door in the wall. The door flew open, and I moved in, quickly scanning the area and finding nothing that resembled a threat. I was almost offended. If that guy we cut loose had warned them we were coming, I expected a bigger reception.

  I pointed the rifle up at Cole.

  “Come on down, we’re wasting time,” I said.

  Cole looked at me and he started to smirk again. I put a bullet close enough to his head to move his hair. He ducked down and stared at me.

  “That’s the last bullet that will miss you,” I said.

  Charlie was staring down a small group of men and women who were angling towards the door.

  “Go help your comrades. Leave your weapons at the door. After that, you might want think twice before you try your luck against us. We’re armed, we’re tired, and we’re really pissed,” Charlie said.

  Cole and the other man reached the ground. They looked enough alike that I suspected they were related, but I wasn’t going to ask because I didn’t care.

  “Weapons on t
he ground, now. All of them,” I said.

  Cole shrugged and raised his hands. “I never needed a weapon.”

  The other man laughed. “I wonder how you’d do without your guns, tough guy.”

  I laughed back. “As soon as we get our people out, you’re going to find out.”

  “You must be Talon, then,” Cole said.

  “Guilty,” I replied. “Start walking.”

  “If I refuse?” Cole asked.

  Charlie stepped forward and punched Cole square in the face. His head snapped back from the blow, and his arms went wide as he fell backwards into the snow.

  “Dad!” the other man yelled.

  Cole pulled his head off the ground and shook it slowly. It must have been a long time since anyone had knocked him down, and when his eyes cleared he focused on Charlie who stood there calmly waiting for Cole to come to his senses.

  “That’s what happens when you refuse. Thanks for asking,” Charlie said.

  “Son of a bitch!” Cole scrambled to his feet and lunged at Charlie, his huge arms spread wide to grab at Charlie and break him through sheer brute force.

  Charlie stepped to the side and kicked Cole in the knee, sending him crashing to the ground again. Charlie swung the bag off his shoulder that was holding Cheyenne and handed it to me. I took it and backed up, making sure Cole’s son saw the rifle I was still pointing at him.

  Cole got to his feet again and tried to swing at Charlie again, but Charlie had trained too long to be worried about what Cole brought to the fight. Charlie blocked the looping punch and slammed an elbow into the side of Cole’s head, knocking him back, and opening a cut on his head.

  Hobbes swung a wicked left hook that caught Charlie in the side. He grunted in surprise but retaliated with a jab to Cole’s nose. Blood spurted under the punch, and Cole’s eyes fogged for a second. Charlie followed up with a roundhouse that spun Cole around and knocked him down to the ground again. Cole got up and tried to clinch with Charlie, but Charlie grabbed his wrists and spun him away, tossing him back to the ground. Hobbes landed hard and was much slower getting up. Years of inactivity were catching up to him while Charlie was hardly breathing any heavier than normal.