Rolling Hunger (The Yard Gnome Action Team Book 2)

by RW Krpoun

  “I’m really sneaky.”

  “So Dyson told me. We’ll put you through your paces when its an all-Gnomes operation. But on paper you’re a cook’s assistant and the spunky orphan sidekick.”

  “This sucks.”

  “You can always go home and marry your beloved.”

  Kat made a face. “Pul-eeze.”

  “Why are you interested in hanging with a motley bunch like us, anyway?”

  “It beats marrying some old guy. If we end up in a refugee camp they’ll take away my bow and put somebody in charge of telling me what to do. The only good thing grandpa did was let me do what I wanted, at least until I started developing.”

  “Not a lot of love for dear Sir Roger, I’ve noticed.”

  “He had ideas about women,” Kat idly tossed the mace she carried in her belt from her right hand to her left, the weak sunlight catching the rich gold sheen of the brass skull that topped the weapon. “We did a lot of cool stuff, and there was a lot of free time if you wanted it, but once you figured out what happens when you turn fifteen…that puts a shadow on things. And since the outbreak things really got weird.”

  “The medieval thing?”

  “No, the way he recruited people. I mean, the whole marriage thing was gross, but at least at first it was with people you knew. When the outbreak came we rescued people, and we took on young women, girls, and older guys, and some of the old guys were pretty sketchy. Grandpa may not believe in guns, but I think it was just a matter of time before one of the newcomers brought one in and took charge. Chainmail won’t stop a bullet.”

  “You think it would have come to that?”

  “Grandpa quit with the outside world a long time ago, but I went to public school because he couldn’t get the home-schooled paperwork right. I bought a laptop with money I made scouting, and the neighbor’s wi-fi wasn’t secure. Sir Roger may not know what a prison tattoo looks like, but I do.”

  “They covered prison ink in your school?”

  “The Net. Angela had a great scam-we covered eight counties on foot and horseback. We spotted every pot patch and meth lab in the region, and Crimestoppers will mail your check to a PO box, no questions asked. We were the front line on the local war on drugs and it paid well. So we had a real good reason for looking up prison and gang ink.”

  “Weren’t you concerned that someone would figure out who was doing the informing?”

  “We were careful, and it wasn’t like we were ratting on the cartels. Grandpa was right about one thing, people are slaves to their machines; they don’t notice people on foot, not that you’re likely to spot me if I don’t want to be seen. Plus Grandpa was scary-people figured he was a Waco waiting to happen, so even if they guessed we were doing it no local in his right mind would cross Gramps.”

  “Well, there’s nothing like making money while working towards a good cause. That’s what we do.”

  “I figure you guys are OK. When I first saw you guys I thought you were real soldiers from the way you act; we’ve seen merc-ah, contract security before, and they looked like…well, not like you guys.”

  “They’re shaping up into a decent unit,” Marv agreed. “OK, we’re stopping. Go keep an eye out on the last car and sing out of you see anything. We’re going to have to get you a handheld CB.”

  “So how did we do?” Marv asked a grinning Chip as the large Gnome jumped out of Gnome-2 onto the flatbed deck.

  “Amazing, just amazing, dude. George took a couple guys and led the zombies in the area on a tour of the back streets to keep things simple. We got five different medal styles with enough examples of each to keep us going until the last zombie is dead. We found a family of four holed up on a roof and brought them back, and grabbed about thirty parkas and some more blankets. But the big casino was when Addison spotted a sign and led us to a car dealership. They were set up for a big blow-out fall sale, and we loaded up. Twenty-four decent patio folding chairs, three card tables, and best of all an Alfresco fifty-six inch propane cooker.”

  “A nice grill?”

  “Dude, its not ‘a grill’. You cook hamburgers for your kids on ‘a grill’. This unit probably cost thirteen grand and they assemble them to order at the factory. Its got nine hundred nighty-eight square inches of cooking surface, a chain-drive rotisserie that can handle one hundred twenty pounds of meat, it can smoke cheese or nuts, its got a built in refrigerator, and it runs on propane. I figure it must have been the store owner’s personal baby, and its like new. We got a full set of cooking tools, and we hit a gas station and took a dozen propane tanks from those ‘rent the canister’ cage-type set-ups. Angela will have no problem feeding us with that set-up. We must have looked at twenty grills as we crossed town before we found it-we kept finding a better one and dumping the one we had, but we won’t top an Alfresco.”

  “OK, good news. Lets get everything strapped down quick: the train isn’t waiting.”

  “Well, that was exciting,” JD said disgustedly. “Sixty miles in order to test the suspension system with potatoes.”

  “Just as well,” Marv shrugged. “The further north we go the colder it gets and the shorter the day is. Sunset is at six-twenty, and its almost five now. Addison said the low tonight is going to be nine degrees.”

  “Its not much above freezing right now,” the promoter clapped his gloved hands. “And we’ll be rolling north all night.”

  “Yeah, but we’ll be heading south in a couple days,” the Ranger shrugged again. “The cold ought to slow the zeds down some.”

  “All the same, I say we stick to southern operations for now.”

  “Yeah, Grase mentioned that: the DSR is going to categorize companies by region, so northern outfits will avoid the south in summer, and vice versa. Basically they’ll use us horizontally, which will make setting up the sleeping containers easier. In the future Rolling Hunger trains ae going to have drones or small helicopters assigned to scout the rails ahead, too.”

  Marv, JD, Dyson, and Bear were watching eight tons of sacked potatoes being loaded into the DSR boxcars, the sum total of their ‘long’ excursion.

  “At least we smoked Hard Eight,” Bear grinned. “All they brought back was two tons of canned goods and a guy who looked like he really didn’t want to be rescued.”

  “This wasn’t a wasted run, not in terms of money or testing,” Marv observed. “We make the point by travelling from Texas to Canada, and sort out the details of train operations. Next time we do this we won’t be doing it for speed, but conducting systematic salvage and rescue operations. And let’s not forget, we’ve liberated about forty people.”

  “Good works and a profit, plus Addison got a girlfriend,” Dyson grinned. “That’s a good trip.”

  “Addison is hooking up with the girl with the tattoo?” Marv was surprised.

  “Not yet, but last I saw them they were discussing some conspiracy that means that we are actually living in the 1600s. Birds of a feather.”

  “We’re living in the 1600s?” Marv scowled. “Seriously?”

  “It’s a theory by a German, Herbert something,” JD explained. “Its called the Phantom Time Hypothesis; basically he says that in the 600s the Holy Roman Emperor, the Pope, and the Byzantine Emperor conspired to move the calendar up so they were in power when the year 1000 rolled around. So history is about three hundred years off.” He caught Dyson’s look and shrugged. “The History Channel. I spent a lot of time on the road.”

  “How did they pull it off?” Marv asked.

  “The theory is that back then most people couldn’t read and didn’t really keep count of years; those three had a virtual lock on education and accounting. Juggle the paperwork, and that’s that. No newspapers around back then. Its been debunked; he based it on the difference between Julius Caesar’s calendar and today’s, but his math was off.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Dyson observed solemnly, and then ducked the slap JD aimed at the back of his head.

  “Hey, what smells good?”
Bear asked as the breeze shifted.

  “Looks like that stainless-steel monstrosity is in use,” Marv stepped back to look down the train. “Chip! Go see what that smell is.”

  “I already know,” the husky Gnome came over to the four. “While we were out Kat and Angela butchered a feral cow, a young one, yearling or whatever. That’s supper you’re smelling. I saw them at it when I had a detail move some sacks of spuds to our car.”

  “Steaks?” Bear’s face glowed.

  “I don’t know if its steaks, Angela said it was more like roast; cutting up a cow in the field with hand tools isn’t going to turn out restaurant-quality cuts.”

  “Who cares-its not from a can.”

  “And there’s plenty.”

  “Speaking of which, how was ‘feral’ determined insofar as the cow was concerned?” Marv asked.

  “Best not to inquire, dude.”

  “That’s what I thought. How did they move the cow?”

  Chip grinned. “Apparently it…wandered real close. And they had a block and tackle to hoist it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, its good for morale.”

  “So I’m told. A yearling calf weighs enough to give Brick and Dyson trouble, yet two skinny girls got it up onto the train how?”

  “They found a six-wheel ATV, a Cam-Am Outlander six by six. Its like an ATV with a built-in trailer. Has a winch and everything.”

  “So we’re gone a couple hours and they went salvaging by themselves?” Marv voice was dangerously calm.

  “No, sir, nothing like that.” Chip gestured towards a frozen snarl of traffic a half-mile away. “The State Guard sent a foot patrol to check for zeds, and Kat shadowed them. She saw it on a trailer behind a wrecked pickup, along with a bunch of gas cans, full ones. Once the State Guard ensured the area was secure she grabbed it. It fits on our flatbeds, and it’ll be real useful back home. Look, there must have been fifteen four-wheelers and dirt bikes in a half-mile tangle of stuck traffic but she picked one that was solid, not flashy junk.”

  “You know, this is what comes of taking in strays,” Marv shook his head.

  “You mean we get good cooking and a free vehicle that runs about thirteen grand?” Dyson grinned, only to drop the smile when the Ranger turned to glare at him.

  “I mean we have a fourteen-year-old girl running around by herself poaching cattle. We’re responsible for her safety and her actions.”

  “I get your point,” JD conceded. “But upon reflection I think we left some big loopholes in our instructions and restrictions. Fact is, the only person she endangered was herself, and like Dyson said, she was working for the company, not off gathering up jewelry and music CDs.”

  “She’s fourteen!”

  “Hey, I’ve got one that age, and the idea of her scooting around on her own makes my skin crawl. But frankly I think we’re going to need leg irons to keep this girl in place, at least until she gets a good scare. We’re going to have to tighten up our instructions to her, but speaking from experience we would do well to leave her some wriggle room. Sometimes you do better allowing a little than banning all.”

  Marv shook his head. Rubbing his nose, he stared up at the sky for a moment. “OK, you’re officially the kid wrangler. Personally I think we should boot her off the train at the next Relocation Center, except that would cost us her sister, and maybe Addison, whom we can’t afford to lose.”

  “Not to mention the duo are going to be heroes shortly,” Bear pointed out. “The guys have been living off soup heated in the can on crappy camp stoves that barely work.”

  “Plus the honest fact is that Kat and Angela are safer with us than in a Relocation Center,” Dyson said thoughtfully. “We let them stay armed, and anyone with a milligram of sense won’t jack with people affiliated with us.”

  “Yeah, well, its going to be a pain, that I’m sure of.” Marv was still annoyed. “Since you’re such a fan of ATVs, get the damn thing on the flatbed and chained down, Chip.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the Gnomes returned to their flatbeds they were greeted with a meal of grilled beef, baked potatoes, and canned vegetables which was warmly received both for the quality of the food and for the obvious envy displayed by the Hard Eight personnel.

  JD drew Kat to the rear of the train as it lurched into ‘cruising speed’. “We need to have a private word.”

  “Its about the ATV, right?” The girl’s face reflected sullen anger and unease in equal parts.

  “That’s a symptom; we need to talk about the disease.” JD unfolded Bear’s green camp chair and settled into it. “Young pups rate sitting on the deck, so park it.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Kat said defiantly, sitting cross-legged with an ease that JD admired.

  “That’s not an issue, either.”

  “So what’s the issue?”

  “In a word, reliability. We need to know that when we assign you to a task you’ll do it, and when you find yourself with free time, that you’ll use it in ways that do not create problems.”

  “So getting an ATV and a yearling were problems?’

  “Being somewhere without our knowing it and doing things we didn’t know were being done are the problems,” JD kept his tone light. “We appreciate the spirit of your actions, that you are helping, but in this type of organization we need to be on top of everything. If we had roared back here with a tide of zombies on our tail, or FASA goons, or whatever, the last thing we need is to have answer the question ‘Where is Kat?’, see? We have rules, and one is that nobody goes out alone; another is that any detachment from the main body has a radio or a CB or both. Better yet, two so if one craps out we still can communicate.”

  “I was trying to help,” Kat pointed out.

  “You got points for that,” JD nodded. “Look, this is all real unusual; we don’t normally take people in except as shooters. You and your sister are unexplored territory, job-wise.”

  “But your creepy guy with three circles on his collar wants to bang my half-sister, so here we are,” Kat observed.

  The promoter shook his head. “Kat…”

  “Hey, its OK by me-she’s as weird as he is, and we gotta be somewhere.”

  “The thing is, we need to reach an understanding while you guys are with us. I know you want to be treated like an adult, and well, this is being treated like an adult: everybody in this outfit follows the same rules. They follow orders.”

  “But I’m stuck here on the train while everyone else rolls out to do battle.”

  “You signed on today. You saw what happened at the grain elevator: we don’t play around. We go in and get stuck into it, and that means we don’t roll with anyone who isn’t tested and true. You want to hang with the big kids you gotta pay your dues, and staying put and following rules is part of that.”

  Kat scowled at her boots. “Marv said I couldn’t come with because I’m…young.”

  “We won’t put you into uniform until you’re older, sure, but we need a good scout to pair up with Dyson. If you really want to you could make yourself a place with us when there aren’t any TV cameras around. The thing is, do you really want to do that?”

  “What, shoot zombies and scout? Absolutely.”

  JD sighed. “You know,…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, I know. My school counselor, my mom, my half-sister, everybody says take a chill pill, get the pepper out of my butt.” It was Kat’s turn to sigh. “Look, I’ve been dreaming about getting out from under grandpa’s thumb, getting into the real world, since, well, ever. Only the real world is going away, and…its like I’m gonna be stuck living in grandpa’s sick dream no matter what I do. It makes me so mad I could just scream.”

  “How does scouting and shooting figure into that?”

  “Somebody’s gotta pay for screwing up my dreams, and the zombies are handy.”

  JD laughed. “That I get. OK, I understand, but like I said: reliable is the keyword, reliable
and some patience. You and your sister will answer to me, and once we’re in Texas and away from the cameras we’ll sort out your situation so you can start getting some payback.”

  “OK.”

  “Great.” JD gave her a thumb’s up. “You remind me of my daughter, in a good way.”

  “She’s in Texas?”

  “Belize, her mother…ran off with someone just as the outbreak hit. She and her brother went with her, not as if they had a choice.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It turns out Belize is safer than most places, so that part is a comfort. I’ve gotten to talk to her on the phone a few times since this entire mess blew up.”

  “That’s something.”

  The sound of scrabbling made them both turn; Chef was crawling towards them under the truck. “Sir, officers’ call. Everyone is supposed to lock and load, gear up for heavy action.”

  JD realized that the train had steadily accelerated until they were running over fifty miles an hour. “What’s up?”

  “A distress call up ahead, major zombie action on a Relocation Center. They’re calling for help, like screaming for help. We’re the only outfit with even a chance of getting there in a timely fashion.”

  JD stood and started folding the chair. “Standing guard is a good step in being reliable, Kat. If you’re lucky a straggler or two might wander within range.”

  “I can hope.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “We don’t have a lot of details,” Marv advised the senior Gnomes. “Relocation Center MN-3 is under attack by a herd of zombies, and possibly supported by terrorists; details are pretty sketchy at this point. We’re fifteen miles away by rail and another mile by road, but we’re moving fast. Tell everyone to load up on ammo and be ready for anything.”

  “Should we unchain the trucks?” Chip asked.