"Okay, now we will practice moves and strikes with these wooden practice knives. Your musculature is sufficient that you can strike quickly, and hopefully accurately. Then we will move to the buildings and I will show you how to hold still as a sentry approaches. We will see if Master Sergeant Trask will win his bet." He pulled four wooden knives out of the cargo pocket of his fatigues and handed her two of them.
"Bet?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Ashley. He has bet me that you will overpower me in my art. We will see."
"What did you bet?"
"He bet me his room he shares with his Jessica and their two children if he loses. My set of rooms are not quite as nice. If he wins this bet I will take over the crossbow teams in addition to my other duties." Jose Alba was still laughing as he moved behind her. With a strength that surprised her, he repositioned her feet and moved her body into a position very similar to one of unarmed combat.
Two hours later, she rose from the prone form of Sergeant Alba as he stared at her in disbelief. Without moving more than his head, which he turned to Master Sergeant Trask who was grinning widely, he muttered through a groan, "Okay bro, I think you need to show me these men of yours and introduce us. I find I suddenly have a need to know who is on our crossbow teams." He waved off their help and staggered to his feet while rubbing his chest where both practice knives had punched him. "Miss Ashley, I have something for you. I brought these along in case Top was correct. You need a good knife or pair of knives in a knife fight. These are old but they’re very good. They were my last pair and served me well." Alba had been fishing in the bag he had brought, and turned to Ashley, holding out two knives encased in belt sheaths. They were identical to the two he carried, only much more worn. Still, they were razor sharp and obviously deadly instruments. Ashley felt herself tear up slightly and hugged the sergeant tightly.
"Thank you Sergeant Alba, I don't know what to say," she murmured.
"Don't say anything," an obviously embarrassed Alba responded.
*****
DAY 12: 1100 ET Tuesday NOVEMBER 15TH
"Well, how are things looking, Samson?" Johnny inquired as he limped to the side gate with Celeste in tow. Samson was behind the car they had pushed up against the side entrance. Yesterday, after the undead had been driven back, they had quickly propped and chained the gates back in place, then piled a large number of metal chairs and office furniture between the bars and the car. Previously they had piled wooden furniture in between the two barriers, along with other odds and ends like boxes and trash of all types. Hopefully, the metal obstructions would keep the gate secure this time.
"Brother, not good at all." Samson turned to him with a worried expression on his face. All along the wall people were standing almost shoulder to shoulder, shoving downward with spears fashioned of any available material. Johnny guessed at least sixty people were within sight, defending the center. "I'm scared, Bro. I made my peace with God, if that answers your question."
"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad? We kicked their ass yesterday. Hey wait! You didn't call me Supreme Leader or something. What's up?"
"Johnny. It's bad. Bad as it gets. Look, man. I seriously doubt we'll survive the day. I'm not gonna joke around anymore. You're a friend and it was a pleasure to know you."
"Samson, please don't say things like this. We will survive. We have to." For the first time, Celeste spoke. She reached out a hesitant hand, then leaned forward feeling for Samson. Samson rolled his wheelchair back a few inches so her hand could touch his upper back and smiled up at her as it traveled up along his neck, then caressed his cheek. Celeste stepped forward and leaned over to hug him tightly.
"Celeste, hun. I'm saying it like it is. People are tired. We're losing more every day and those of us left are really damn tired of the constant fighting and losing friends. We are losing this battle. I am a Marine. I do not like admitting that shit but that is the truth, babe," Samson replied as he swiveled his chair and his arms wrapped around her, engulfing her tiny form in a huge hug.
"Johnny will save us, Samson. He has to, of course."
"How? And why?" Johnny grunted.
"Well, you wouldn't let your son die, would you?"
Johnny paused when his brain locked up, barely hearing her continue.
"We've had sex twice a day for the last seven days. Neither of us used protection, and it was between my periods. Do the math, daddy man. Besides, I can tell."
"You can feel the baby?" Johnny gasped, still in shock.
"Baby? Johnny is having baby?" Unbeknownst to them, Chester had arrived, a huge club under one arm and his tiny gray puppy under the other. "Happy for Johnny!" Chester beamed at Johnny and raised both arms slightly as if to give him a hug, but clearly didn't know which item to put down. He settled the matter by dropping his club and grabbed Johnny up in a half bear hug before dropping him to pick his club up again.
"Having a baby right now was not the best idea, Celeste." Samson looked like he was about to cry, and he reached up to drag her down for another hug.
"Well, I didn't plan it, Samson. This facility has everything but protection from sperm. I wanted to make love to Johnny. Johnny will save us."
"Look, I can't think about this right now. I need a bit of time. A baby?" Johnny murmured.
"What will you name your baby, Johnny? Maybe you will name it Baby. I named my puppy, Puppy." Chester was still beside them, beaming with happiness. He dropped his club again to raise his puppy before him, then gently hugged it while it licked his face, its tail wagging like crazy.
"Oh, Loki. Not now, Chester. Go bash some guppies in the head, will you?" Johnny shoved him backward or tried to. At almost three hundred pounds, Chester was an immovable object.
"OK, I go, Johnny. I go help others on the wall. I will pay them back for trying to hurt Puppy." Chester waved as he ambled off. Samson sighed as he left, and released Celeste, then reached out to grip Johnny's arm hard. "Figure it out man. Today's probably the day. Make your peace, and congrats on the kid, my sympathies also. Jesus. Bad timing, Celeste."
"Not bad timing, Samson. I have faith."
"Your faith isn't facing thirty thousand zombies, or more," Samson scowled.
"Yes it is, Samson," Celeste replied.
"Okay, whatever. It was really nice knowing you anyways."
Celeste smiled down at him, knowing his gruffness was an attempt to hide his pride and love for both Johnny and her. It was also an attempt to hide his despair of their situation. Time would tell.
*****
DAY 12: 1300 ET Tuesday NOVEMBER 15TH
They hung the latest offender at 1:00 PM sharp. His neck snapped amidst his screams of hate at his ex-wives or girlfriends or whatever they were to him. They stood at the front of a crowd of roughly three hundred, who were all there to watch. No one spoke. They stood in silence as the charges were read and the verdict pronounced, then the sentence carried out. The dead body finally stopped twitching while people started drifting away, and Darin turned to Jay.
"It's a lesson, Commander. It's needed, and you know this."
"I know," Jay replied. Still he scowled, then sighed and spoke again, "When will stupidity and evil be eradicated?"
"Never, Sir. There are no magic answers. It's called being human. People do stupid shit all the time."
"How can you kill a child or a woman you love?"
"I don't know, Sir."
"It's fucked up."
"Always has been, Sir. However, that's life as we know it."
"Thanks for being here, my friend."
"Best place to be, Sir."
The master sergeant reached out to lay a comforting hand on the commander's shoulder, his coal black skin at sharp contrast with the tanned skin of his commander's. He felt he knew the turmoil within his close friend, a friend he had honestly never expected to have. Finding a white man with no room within his soul for prejudice was exceedingly rare. Finding one that also deserved to be looked up to for his character and deci
sions was rarer still.
Darin was a religious man. He prayed to God not only nightly but throughout the day. Each night he led his new family in a prayer of thanks for their blessings and for the continued strength of this man beside him. He and his family sat in a circle, holding hands: his beloved Jessica, and their two boys, James and Andy. Then they prayed for Darin's family in California, or perhaps Texas by now. He would worry about them later. Right now, all of them here in Newaygo were doing good. The Lord's work, as the Reaper would say. It was coming together and a new, and hopefully brighter beginning was taking place.
*****
DAY 12: 1400 ET Tuesday NOVEMBER 15TH
"Any word on that new Johnny group you heard from yesterday?" Brad asked Rick.
"None, and I've been trying all day," Rick responded as he hunched over their base station.
"I wish we knew where they were."
"Me too, Brad. Me too."
"This morning I was thinking. There is a Mercy Hospital in Muskegon. It's where Roxanne had Patrick."
"Yes, I'm familiar with it."
"Maybe we should check it out. It's not far. We can be there in less than an hour."
"Let's not jump the gun, Brad. Let's get more information first. Besides, there are over a million people in Muskegon. Now, most are zombies. Those are heavy odds, even for the log mulchers. How did the supply run go today? You're back early."
"We used one of the dozers to finally clear a lane to Walmart. It didn't take long to get enough supplies out to keep our people busy sorting and storing the rest of the day. That's a good thing too, as we're getting waves of the bastards out of Grand Rapids. Soon we might not be able to make the run. Don't know yet."
"Well, keep me informed."
"Will do, and keep me informed on this new Johnny group."
"For sure."
*****
"Well Sir. Will the big decision be made today?" asked Lieutenant Max Purcell as he addressed Major Robinson. The young lieutenant had been hovering around Robinson all day, dropping small hints about the latest Newaygo broadcasts and satellite imagery they were receiving on that large Michigan group. Real time images showed the area covered in what looked like scurrying ants. People doing what needed doing to make the area safer, obviously.
"Honestly, Lieutenant, I wanted to wait until this evening when the Chinooks will be back from their last supply run from Fort Campbell. They should have gotten all the ordnance with this last load."
"Do we have a solid ETA on that Sir?"
"No, not at this time. Projected had been approximately sixteen hundred but they were delayed getting into the last ammunition bunkers. Had to blow the doors then clear the rubble out before they could get the forklifts in. Realistically they might not be back until quite late."
Lieutenant Purcell appeared to be shifting or bouncing from one foot to the other like a small child with something to say, and worried he might get in trouble for saying it. Robinson smiled inwardly at the behavior, then chuckled out loud as Purcell took an obvious deep breath in preparation to speaking again.
"Spit it out, Lieutenant," Robinson mock growled.
"Sir! I just think they are our best long-range chance of survival, and they could use our help. I've looked at close-ups of the runways and facilities at the Fremont Airport and it would ideally suit our needs with our current strength. The big parking lot they have would fit most of our birds, and any cars or vehicles we may have could be parked in the grassy lot next to the terminal. It's perfect!"
"Well, I don't know about perfect, Lieutenant, but I've also looked at the site with Chief Sheldon and he agrees."
"So then we'll contact them, Sir?"
"That remains to be seen, Lieutenant."
"Gosh darn it, Sir! They ..." Lieutenant Purcell quieted as Major Robinson held up a hand. The major was laughing, almost uncontrollably. Purcell waited a full minute before the major was able to constrain his mirth, then listened intently as he spoke.
"Lieutenant. I understand your passion and the reasons for it. Newaygo has a pretty damn good game plan and the balls to back it up. We know Canada isn't an option. We are American soldiers and citizens. To ease your mind, Lieutenant, unofficially we will be contacting them this evening. Officially, I want to hear everyone's input again." Major Robinson thumped Lieutenant Purcell on the shoulder, almost knocking him to the ground, but the smile on his face was friendly and happy. Lieutenant Purcell breathed a visible sigh of relief.
"Thank you Sir. I'm just worried. I'm an American and love my country, and they seem like our best hope to right some wrongs!"
"Agreed Lieutenant, now get back to work!"
*****
"Hey, do you have a list of any costumes found by chance?" I asked.
"Costumes? What kind of costumes?" Jean responded.
We were currently at Jean and Miguel's main office at the granary complex. I had stopped in briefly during my daily do all, wrack my brain and wish I were dead from paperwork routine. Earlier I had been watching some kids playing outside a home, then saw a woman come out with a very small cake with candles on it. They were obviously celebrating a child's birthday, and that gave me an idea.
"Well, every year on my kids’ birthdays I took them to Chucky Cheese. The kids could play games and a big mouse in a costume would come out and help the kids celebrate. Honestly, I do not wish these children to lose their childhood. A zombie apocalypse is bad enough. We don't need to turn five-year-olds into eighteen-year-olds. See what I'm saying?"
Jean rose and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Her sweet curves pressed against the front of my body as I hugged her back.
"That is the sweetest thing anyone has said in a long time. You really do care. I will check and get with some of the ladies on this."
"What do you mean, I really do care! Of course I care. Jesus." I was exasperated. Jean was not acting right. She was acting very emotional today, and in my opinion her words were not warranted, as this was just another way to keep the kids out of trouble and provide a little fun for them. "I care about a lot of things, Jean, including keeping you satisfied." I grinned as I slid my hand around to grasp her right breast tightly.
"Ohh, easy baby, that hurts. Be more gentle please."
"Hurts? But I hardly squeezed it!" I was shocked. It was just a little squeeze after all, and when making love she preferred to have these melons she called breasts squeezed very hard. I looked closely at her and her face was red and not with pleasure. I needed to figure this out.
"What's going on? Spit it out!" Jean hesitated for a long moment as she buried her face in my chest, then finally spoke.
"I have some issues going on right now, Jay. My breasts were a little sore. I'm a bit moody and tired, and I started spotting today so I went to see Doctor Mansk."
Jean raised her head to look me in the eyes, her expression a combination of need and fright. Then it hit me. With the births of my three children always fresh in my mind, the symptoms my ex-wife had had for each of them—the fatigue, soreness, and of course the moodiness and spotting—was also equally fresh.
"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" I was stunned. My question was answered as once again Jean buried her face against my chest and started crying softly.
"Quit that!" I automatically responded, as my mind underwent a transformation. Gently I lifted her face upwards, and leaning down, kissed her softly and passionately. "That is fantastic news."
"NO it's not!" she replied heatedly. Her face was bright red and I couldn't read all the emotions that conflicted on its surface.
"Yes it is!" I responded with equal heat. "This will work out. I'll make damn sure you and the baby are safe. Newaygo is safe. We have friends that we can count on. It will be OK. I already know all your arguments.”
"I'm scared, baby."
"Hey! I'm happy!" I responded, then raised my voice to a shout. "My wife is pregnant! We're gonna have a baby!"
A series of congratulatory shouts drifted in
as I squeezed Jean with almost all my might, while lifting her off the ground to twirl her around. This was good news indeed. Jean was laughing and crying at the same time as her arms held me tightly. All I could do was be there for the woman I loved.
"We're not married," she whispered into my ear.
"Gonna fix that soonest!" I replied, and she squeezed me tighter.
*****
Nolan had done this before, just not within the ceiling of a school building. His hand moved slowly to bring the water bottle to his lips, and he took a tiny sip before setting it back on the board beside him. Lying next to him on other boards suspended just above the ceiling tiles where Cobb and Locke. They had been hiding there since before dawn this morning, waiting for the end of the day and for Jean to show up.
They had followed Jean all over Newaygo the previous day by attaching themselves to various work parties, and it was Nolan's guess that their best opportunity to acquire the asset would be in the late afternoon while they were only a few hundred yards from the fire break. They only had to elude capture for a couple of miles, and long enough for the helicopter to pick them up. This asset was a tough one to acquire. She was under constant guard, and the men with her were very good. Nolan had understood that yesterday when he did his recon and meet and greet. With some, you just knew they were dangerous.
Nolan felt parched but ignored it. His left shoulder ached from lying sideways all day and he ignored that too. The building had been unlocked when they had arrived. Being prepared, Nolan and the others had brought their own wire and boards with them. Climbing up into the attic and working by penlight to suspend the boards below electrical and water conduits had been tricky, but they had accomplished it before dawn. They had drawn the ladder up with them and had suspended it to one side. Currently the boards were suspended fractions of an inch above the ceiling tile grid in Jean’s office. Nolan, Cobb, and Locke had carefully poked pencil-sized angled holes in the corners of a few of the tiles to get a view of both sides of the doorway and Jean’s desk. The three men did not eat, and only sipped slightly at their water. The few times they had to relieve themselves they did so sideways into an empty water bottle brought along for that purpose.
Legacy of the Living Page 38
