An ex-military man, he left the service once he discovered the government’s role in the spread of the virus and how the government had so easily discarded civilians as “collateral damage.” He had reunited with the group in New Orleans, equipped a boat, and since then, he and Butcher had become almost as inseparable as Dallas and Roper.
“I was going to take a look around, but I think I have a better idea.”
Wiping his hands on the grimy towel, Luke slammed the hood. “I could use a good idea.”
Dallas sat on a fallen tree thick with emerald green moss and motioned for Luke to sit with her. “Take a load off.”
When he sat down, he sighed heavily.
“You okay?” she asked.
He shrugged and looked out over the blue-green water lapping gingerly at the muddy edges. Spanish moss waved slightly in the breeze like wisps of hair. The symphony of bugs that woke at dusk served as a chorus all around them. Neither had to say it but both felt the eyes of the bayou upon them, always watching, always waiting.
“I think Butcher’s getting tired of me.” Luke stared down at a cicada perched on a leaf.
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s just been so edgy lately. There’s a sharpness to her tone I’ve never heard.” He looked at Dallas. “She’s grown sorta distant, too.” He picked up a small stone and tossed it into the water. “Maybe it’s cabin fever or something. I don’t know because she won’t talk to me.”
Laying her arm across his shoulder, Dallas gave him a quick squeeze. “I think we’re all getting a little cabin fever, Luke. We’ve been down here eight months with no word from your buddies or any connection to the outside world. We’re cut off from everyone and everything else. She probably needs a change of scenery. Don’t make any more out of it than that. Roper’s been a little on edge as well. I think we all need some freshness to our lives.”
She felt him relax a little. “Really? You think that’s all it could be?”
“Oh hell yes. We’re all going a little nuts. We’ve managed to build a pretty safe haven, but let’s not kid ourselves. We’re all going a little stir crazy here.”
Luke held her gaze. “You, too? ‘Cause if that’s the case, you hide it really well.”
Dallas nodded as she looked into two of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. “I am growing weary of hiding out down here, of merely surviving. When we came here, we all decided we were going to save our country. We can’t do that from here.”
“So what are you saying?”
“What I’m saying, my friend, is it’s time to change things up a bit.”
“Change what up?”
“Everything. We’ve become complacent. It’s time for us to do what we came here to do.” Dallas placed her hand on top of his. “I want your honest opinion about something. What are your thoughts about mobilizing?”
“Us?” Luke rose and walked to the edge of the swamp. It suddenly became quieter.
“No. The alligators, you doof. Of course us.”
“You want to move us? All of us?”
Dallas nodded. “I do. I want to stop hiding. It’s time we got back to the task at hand.”
Luke did not respond for several minutes. When he finally replied, his voice was soft. “We’re not hiding, Dallas. We’re not even surviving. We are just…existing…and I think it’s why we’re all a little on edge.”
“If this were a military operation, what would you say it looked like?”
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about it.” Luke rose and walked over to the water. “Is that what you think we’re doing down here? Just hanging out and hiding?”
“Answer the question. If you came across us tomorrow, would you think we were mounting an offensive or hiding?”
Luke ran his hand through his now shoulder length hair that had seemed to turn grey overnight. “God, I hate it when you do that.”
Dallas chuckled.
Luke returned and knelt in front of Dallas. He picked up a stick and drew in the dirt. “Fine. Yeah, it looks like we’re hiding. Hell, it feels like we’re hiding. How else can you explain what we’re doing? Playing house? Barely existing? Biding our time—”
“All of the above?”
When Luke rose, his knees popped. “I love Butcher with all my heart, and there’s nothing more important to me than keeping her safe. Nothing.”
“To what end?”
Luke tilted his head at the question. “Not sure I follow.”
“You said keep her safe. Keep her safe for what? At the end of the day, we’re practically trapped here. I don’t want to be trapped. I don’t want to hide. I’m sick of feeling like we’ve been pushed into a corner.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Dallas rose and walked to the edge of the river as if she’d been summoned there. It had become preternaturally quiet and she knew exactly what that meant. It was as if she knew them now––knew when they were stalking or roaming––knew when an appearance was imminent.
She looked left, looked right. No gators. It was too quiet.
Dallas slowly pulled her sidearm out and held it in front of her. Luke was by her side in an instant, but he didn’t feel it like she did. None of them did––not even Roper.
But she felt it. Them. They were close.
Too close.
“What? What is it?”
Dallas cocked her head. She didn’t hear anything, but she did see something at the bottom of the riverbank. “There.” She took one hand off the gun and pointed. “See it?”
Luke whipped out his Beretta, put it in the water, and shot twice, killing the two zombies standing at the river’s edge about three feet beneath the top of the water. “Must have been caught in the muck.”
“See?”
Luke looked at her. “See what?”
“That’s how it should be. They come to us and we kill them. Simple as that. That’s a way better plan than we run away and they hunt us.” Dallas turned to face him, her eyebrows furrowed. “I want to go on the offensive. I think we are rested enough and trained well enough now to start going after them.”
Luke’s eyes bulged. “You’ve been out in this heat too long, Dallas. Hunt them? There are literally millions of them and three dozen of us.”
Dallas holstered her weapon and held her hand up. “Earlier today, when I was checking the snares, I realized that we’ve been doing it all wrong. We’re sitting here waiting for the end instead of going on the attack and trying to start over. We’re not actively changing our status. It feels like we’re waiting for someone else to do it, but no one ever has…and if they have, we’d never really know it because we’re ensconced down here. I think we’re all sick of it.” Dallas picked up a rock and tossed it in the water. “Maybe it’s just me.”
“No. It’s not just you. I’d love for us to get out and—”
“Uh uh. Not just us. We’re well trained, but it’s time we trained more. We need to create an army. We have a start already, but we need to start really collecting survivors. We’ll never make it if we all try to stay alive separately. We need to gather together. To fight. We need to take the country back. From the man eaters, from our wardens, from everyone. If we don’t—”
“We’re screwed. Yeah, I get it, and I’m behind you a hundred percent. I’m sick as shit of waiting around for something to happen. I say we make shit happen. Live or die, at least we go out swinging.”
His enthusiasm for battle matched hers, and it made her grin. “My sentiments exactly.”
“So what can I do to get us started? What do you need from me?”
“For starters, I want you to back me on this, but only if you truly believe it’s the right thing to do.”
Luke chuckled. “You’re asking a soldier if fighting is the right thing to do?” He laughed a little louder. “Trust me on this. I’ve got your back, Dallas. I’ll always have your back. On that you have my word.”
“Even though I’m a woman?”
He stopped laughing. “Wait. You are?”
Their laughter could be heard across the bayou.
Dallas called a meeting at the Johnson Fork, the only patch of dry land large enough to hold all thirty-two people. They had already built a fire and had gathered around it after an early dinner of fresh fish and tomatoes.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said as she stood with her back to the fire. “I know you’d all rather be inside where it’s safer, but there are a few things we need to cover tonight. It’s been eight months since we arrived and made this our home, our safe haven; eight months of relative security from the man eaters. In that time, we’ve trained to be skilled fighters and learned how to protect ourselves. But I ask you all this: Is it enough?”
Dallas looked around the fire at the faces she’d come to know and care about. Besides her core group, there was the Jones family of five, who came to the bayou after seeing their sign telling others where to go every Tuesday at four. There were the Laing twins and the two others they brought with them. Several individuals from New Orleans had followed the Fuchs from town. Their group had grown significantly, but not to the numbers Dallas had hoped. People were either dying or still laying low. Then there were all the others who simply feared living in the bayou. They also had to contend with the marauders and bands of nomads who would gut you for a bottled water.
“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Einstein asked.
She shook her head. “Not really. Look, we know those ships out there are just waiting for us to completely collapse as a country. The fact that no one has come ashore to take us over in the name of their nation tells me the man eaters are still winning.”
“No one we know of. How do we know the Chinese haven’t come in here and set up camp? We’re too far removed to know squat,” one of the Laing twins said.
Dallas nodded and squatted down. “Exactly. What do you think a new regime would do with us once they established themselves?”
Only the crackle of the fire answered her.
“Right. So, I ask you all––don’t you wonder what we’re doing here? Are we just biding our time until the zombies or our military, or someone else comes for us? What is the point of what we’re doing?”
Butcher raised her hand. “What is the point you’re trying to make, Dallas? I don’t care to sit out here and play guessing games. Spit it out.”
Dallas struggled to find the right words. She finally gave up and just said it. “I think it’s time to bug out of here. I think it’s time we go on the offensive.”
No one said a word until Butcher repeated, “Offensive?”
Dallas rose and paced back and forth. “We’ve been doing it all wrong. We know they are on the move, right? We know every now and again they manage to find their way here. But they’re still out there. They are still mindlessly in control. I say we stop running, stop hiding, and find a much safer place to lure them to us so we can start disposing of them. Let’s put an end to this nightmare or die trying.”
Everyone looked at each other.
“I don’t want to grow old in the swamp. It’s not my vision for the rest of my life.” Dallas tightened her brown ponytail. Roper had been trying for months to get her to cut it, but she refused. “I think it’s time for a change. Time to get control of our own destinies.”
“I’m with Dallas on this,” Luke said quietly. “It’s only a matter of time before someone or something comes after us here. We aren’t really living. We are merely surviving here, and I think we all want more than that. We need to actively seek out other survivors and begin to push back––to fight back––against the man eaters, the military, and anyone else who threatens us.”
“You want us to fight those things?” A woman named Mary asked.
Dallas shook her head. “Not you, Mary. The CGIs. Those of us who don’t risk getting infected will do most of the fighting.”
Mr. Jones spat. “You’re saying that the gays are going to go out there and fight the zombies.”
Dallas nodded. She had never liked the way Jones said the word gay like a cuss word. “Right. As we all know, we’re immune to the virus. That means we can fight up close while those of you who they want to eat can fight using ranged weapons.”
“That’s easy for you to say, since your kind don’t have to worry about being eaten or turned, but to drag the rest of us out there? Me and my family are out. No thank you. You gays can fight all you want.”
“If it wasn’t for us gays, Mr. Jones, you and your family would have been eaten back there in the city,” Roper groused almost under her breath.
Dallas looked over at Roper and barely shook her head.
Roper raised her hand. “Never mind. Not worth the breath. How many are we talking about attacking?”
Dallas looked over at Einstein and signaled that he had the floor.
“We’re talking about tens of thousands of eaters initially,” he answered, pushing his glasses up.
“Initially?” someone from the group asked.
Dallas nodded. “We have to assume only a very small number of our population have survived this. We also know they are moving northeast toward their food supply. That means we will face hordes in excess of a thousand…maybe more.”
“Based on the manner in which this virus took off nine months ago, exponentially, there’s probably between three and six million of us left,” Einstein said. “The majority––well, let’s say the vast majority––of those who have survived are gay. To create an army the zombies can’t turn or eat would certainly make us a formidable group. The fact remains, as long as even one zombie exists, we are all in danger. A gay army that spends its days cutting their numbers seems to me to be the only reasonable way to get our lives back. The key would be how to methodically do so.
“We would have to create whole towns walled off from the potential dangers of that one infected individual getting in. Unless and until our military or our scientists can figure out a way to kill them en masse, then it’s up to us to get in there and do it ourselves. The gay population is our only hope.” Einstein nodded to Dallas that he was done.
In a bizarre moment nine months ago, Dallas and Roper had discovered that the virus was intended to destroy specific human DNA. When a horde walked by and completely ignored them, they realized it was that their homosexual genes, genes they were born with, that made the man eaters avoid them. The bioweapon meant to destroy humans did not recognize the DNA of homosexuals, and this made them invisible to the horde.
The knowledge that people were born gay would change the world one day but for now, all it meant was that those who were gay and still alive were safe from the virus and from being eaten. They were the hope for the future that would be different in the United States…if they made it that far.
That was a big if.
“I am proposing we find a more secure, yet accessible position where other survivors can find us and where we can draw the man eaters to us. If we are going to do more than survive or exist, we need to start clearing them out. We need to take our country back before some other country does it for us, and that begins with killing as many of them as we can every day.”
Roper cleared her throat. “What Dallas is suggesting is for us to start hunting them, only instead of seeking them out, we bring them to us, and we kill them. We know they travel in hordes chasing after their food source, so why not lure them in like a spider in a web?”
Dallas nodded to Einstein, who cleared his throat. “To give everyone an idea of just how much work this involves--if we assume there are at least one hundred million infected east of the Rockies--in order to clean this region we’d need to kill two hundred and seventy four thousand a day for a year.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jones said. “That’s impossible. We don’t even have enough ammo for one day.”
Dallas nodded. “My point exactly. We can’t fight without proper weapons and ammo. We need a strong base, supplies, and the ability to
kill at least ten thousand of these a day.”
“Where could we go that would be safe for those of us they’d eat?” one of the twins asked.
Dallas looked at Roper and Butcher. “We’ve given it a lot of thought and I believe the safest place from which to battle is Angola.”
No response.
Seconds ticked by until finally, someone said, “As in the federal prison?”
Dallas nodded. “Yes. Think about it. That prison has everything we need. It is secure, has garden areas, a manufacturing plant—hell, it’s even got an airstrip. It can be self-contained and once we clear them out, it would be nearly impossible for them to get to us if we maintain strict entry protocol.”
“Not to mention it backs up to the river on two sides. Those who came at us from the river would be gator bait,” Luke said. “With shooters ringing the walls, it’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Einstein cleared his throat. “We need a place we can go that’s self-sufficient for now. Once we have a home base, we can train others to then do the same at another facility, until there are satellite groups of the living all over.”
People whispered about this possibility.
“Skeeter and I believe the hordes are migrating toward their food source,” Dallas said. “This means all of those undead in the lower states may come through here. From the prison, we can easily exterminate tens of thousands without ever having to leave the safety of the walls.”
“And the prison would be incredibly safe,” Einstein added. “Cement walls, barbed and razor wire fencing, and plenty of supplies to keep us set for a few months. Even if the place has been ransacked, we can still fish and smoke meat like we do now. It could actually be far safer there.”
The entire group remained quiet for a long time.
“You want to bring those things to us?” Jones’s wife wrung her hands and shook her head.
Riders of the Apocalypse (Book 2): Burning Rubber Page 3
