by TW Brown
As they walked back to the cabin, Ronni put an arm around him and that was all he could take.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” his daughter asked, coming to an abrupt halt.
“I just never expected to be happy like this. Not before the whole zombie thing, and certainly not after.”
Ronni wrapped her arms around him and they stood there for a moment, hugging each other. Chad looked up, half expecting to see a shooting star. Instead, it was just the vast and twinkling expanse of a normal night time sky.
Everything seemed absolutely common. That scared him deeper than any herd of zombies or group of lawless raiders.
***
“I take it they know you,” Gable muttered. “Good. Maybe we can use this. You keep them busy. I will go around to the other side where your other friend is…Jan, right?” Jody nodded. “I will go around and see if she is making any progress. If not, I will give her a hand.”
Just like that, Gable Matczak turned and jogged away. Jody watched him slip around the corner of the RV and vanish. That made him think of the kids. He’d been so caught up in things that he had forgotten them. He stepped back, ignoring Margarita who was calling his name once more.
He reached the door of the RV he was beside and tried the handle. It opened and he could see a pair of legs. Dread filled him as he poked his head inside and took a look. He was actually relieved when he discovered that the four residents of this particular RV were simply bound and gagged. He gave a shushing motion with one finger and pulled the gag free from the closest person. The girl spat angrily and chomped her teeth a couple of times to get her jaw working right again.
She looked up at Jody and whispered, “Aren’t you Mister Rafe?”
“Yep.”
“I heard your name more than once while they were doing all of this…the jerks.”
“And I would love to hear about it, but I don’t have time.” Jody reached down and flicked his blade to sever the twine that bound her wrists. “You get the others in here free, but stay inside.”
“You gonna kill them?” the girl asked with a surprising lack of emotion or concern.
“Yep.”
“Good. And when you save Mister Pitts, I’m sure he will be really thankful.”
Jody had just stepped down from the RV and was about to close the door when he heard that last statement. He spun. “Pitts isn’t part of this?”
“Are you kidding?” The girl sounded equal parts incredulous and offended.
Jody shut the door and crept back to the corner of the RV. Margarita was still standing on the porch. She was looking his general direction, but Jody could tell that she didn’t know his exact location. Taking a step back into the shadows, he fought the urge to just charge in and kill this woman; and, if he was certain that George was the only other person inside, he might have actually considered that as a viable option.
“I figured you and your boyfriend would be long gone by now and causing havoc for some other community stupid enough to put up with your crap,” Jody called back.
“You never did get it. This is not about being nice or any of that other garbage that you were trying to push. If that community is going to survive, then we needed to make sure we were the meanest dog in the park.”
No,” Jody countered, “it was you two who did not get it. What is the point of trying to save humanity if we can’t act human?”
“Weak!” Margarita bellowed. “That has always been your problem. You are far too weak. You want the good life and want to raise your family behind the assumed protection of a few walls. The zombies have long gone by the way as being the problem. We need to be prepared for other communities—”
“And people like you!” Jody shouted, cutting Margarita off. “People who kidnap children, people who murder innocent women or beat them until they give the answers that you want to hear.”
“Always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” Margarita replied with a sarcastic laugh. “And it was so easy for you to believe some stranger and her version of things.”
“There was a body in the fire pit!” Jody really did not feel like engaging in this circular argument again. He’d had quite enough during the trial.
George and Margarita had insisted that they were simply trying to get Jan to come clean about how her group had come to the tower with ill intent. That the women had been used as bait to draw out the men who were subsequently ambushed. The part of the story they wanted to ignore and gloss over was how the woman, Angel, had been basically abducted and used as a sex toy until she either slit her own throat (as was one side of the story) or had it slit for her.
During the trial, it was revealed that George was not only aware of this happening at a few of the towers, but had come out with Margarita a few times to engage in God knows what. The entire thing made him sick to his stomach. Part of him wanted to enact a much more final sentence regarding the dysfunctional duo, but the charter of the community was such that it was forbidden unless a unanimous verdict was reached; where only a majority would result in banishment.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jody shouted. “You have violated your banishment. That is grounds for execution, and now I don’t need a unanimous vote.”
“Good luck with that,” Margarita’s voice dripped venom. “We got more people in our pocket than you realize. Maybe even enough to get your ass tossed out…or executed. I don’t think we’ll need some silly unanimous decision.”
Jody was fuming at this point. He had no idea how much longer he could keep this up. Where the hell was this Gable person?
“Then how about we all just head back to town and let it get sorted there?”
“That is where you have lost the handle. There are other places, other communities. And a few of them have had their eyes on this little strip of land for a while. You just—”
Margarita’s tirade was cut short as she yelped and then started to scream. That scream was silenced almost immediately. Jody peeked around the corner to see Gable standing over a downed body. He had a curved sword that looked like something from a Sinbad movie in his hands. He was raising the weapon over his head, preparing to come down with a final strike.
Jody was reeling. What did she mean other communities? He had to know.
“Gable, no!” Jody yelled as the blade came down in a blur.
***
Entry Fifty-eight—
I want to make this very clear. I take no pleasure in doing what I do. I certainly took none in this latest kill. I fear the day when that may change, but it is not today.
Yes, I caught the woman. No, her name was not actually Mary. Again, I will offer her the equal lack of courtesy that I give the men I normally hunt. I will not allow her real name to be used so that it can become some sort of legend or myth. That you think of her as “Mary” is already more than she deserves.
I do not know what happened in her mind that allowed her to tread this path. Honestly, I do not think I actually care. Am I curious? Sure. Just as I am sure that whoever reads this might be curious how I can live my life hunting the living and seeing to their extermination under less than humane conditions.
It felt like forever for that blasted barge to return. It did not help that I could have requested the attendant to wave the emergency flag to expedite its return, but I did not want to do anything that would give away that I was in pursuit of the previous rider. When, at last, enough people boarded on the other side so that the barge pushed away, I felt the butterflies begin to churn in my belly. As I rode my horse onto the barge and then waited for our own departure, those butterflies became eagles. By the time I set foot on the other shore, they were jet airliners.
I rode as hard as I dared, knowing that the woman might veer off of the main road at any point. Fortunately, there was enough residual moisture from earlier rains to allow me to see the perfect grooves that were cut into the muddy road by the wheels from the cart.
I lost them only for a short time at an intersection and had to climb d
own to actually crawl around and trace one groove with my finger until it was clear of the mess. As soon as I felt confident, I climbed back on the horse and rode all the harder.
At last, I was rewarded. I could see the cart ahead, the same figure seated on the bench that I recognized from being on the barge.
I galloped up from the rear and had to pretend to ignore her when she cast a glance over her shoulder at the sound of my approach. I was hunched over and looking past her so that she might mistake me for just a courier or somebody in a hurry.
The moment I was alongside, I brought my left hand up and gave a huge backhanded swing with the handle end of my tomahawk. She never saw it coming. Blood and teeth flew in a chunky red slurry, and the woman toppled from her seat and hit the ground hard. Unfortunately for her, the cart ran over one leg and crushed it.
Before you get too worked up, I had plenty of time as I approached to see that child was in a bundle in the bed of the cart. I would have never done anything to intentionally endanger the little one.
The woman was unconscious from the pain—and likely my shot to her mouth. I was able to get the horse to stop and then I led the cart off the road. The first thing I did was to secure and gag the woman. Once I was done, I actually took the child home to the mother. People wanted to make a big fuss, but I simply told them it was the right thing to do. When asked about the captor, I just said that she died in the struggle.
After being re-supplied (this time I was willing to accept the fresh baked bread, the block of cheese, the dried meats, and even a bottle of handcrafted blackberry brandy), I was ready to go. I also kept the horse. The man who had been so generous actually wanted to give me a better one, but I told him I was fine with the one he’d originally provided.
I rode back and reached the woman sometime after dark. I settled in for what was to come, but found that I simply did not have the taste for it. Yes, she had committed terrible acts; and yes, she would pay for them with her life. However, I could not bring myself to draw this ordeal out as I had with men in the past. Call me weak, or whatever else you like. (Although I do not suggest you call me compassionate.)
Once I had her awake (the method is unimportant) I explained to her who I was and what I planned. I was not surprised that she made no attempt to beg or plead. Honestly, that usually only happens after a considerable amount of trauma has been inflicted.
I did ask her if any of the children she stole were still alive. I hoped that maybe she would tell me that she had indeed sold them or something along that nature. Sadly, it was not the case. While she would give no details, she did nod in agreement when asked if each of them were dead.
It would have been nice to at least hear what ever sick and twisted reasoning she might offer as an excuse for her actions. That would not be the case.
When I brought her to the stream and pushed her face down in the water, she did not even kick. The only indication I had that she was dead was when she went completely slack.
I gathered my things, climbed on the horse, and rode away. She might still very well be face down in that stream to this day.
17
The Geek’s Wife Plants a Flag
“Jesus Christ!”
All four of the young men jumped back as the severed head landed with an ugly sounding thud on the sidewalk. Marty and Melvin both stepped in beside Catie in the momentary confusion. Catie hid the wince she felt inside. This was the line, and it had officially been crossed.
She took a second to shoot a quick glance over at the head that had come to rest on one side. She looked into the glazed over and dead eyes that actually showed no signs of surprise. Maybe he had not seen it coming.
She could hope.
“You killed Elliot!” the man who had admitted to being the leader of this little band said with a strangled cry. “Why would you do that?”
“You are aware that he injects people with a serum that either kills them and turns them into the undead or else proves that they are immune?” Catie replied. She was proud of how calm her voice sounded. If she was going to pull this off, she knew full well the need for appearances to be just so.
“We are only trying to protect ourselves. In case you are new around these parts, there are actually groups of people out there that hunt the immune. We have been run out of every community except one, and that one treats us like animals!” the young man shot back.
Catie was actually impressed. The other three young men were a mix of confusion and open fear. They had the right one in charge as far as she was concerned.
“Listen…” Catie paused, “I don’t know your name. I don’t want to just call you ‘Kid’ or ‘Hey you’ so maybe we should start over. My name is Catie Dreon. I am immune just like you, and I want to make some changes that require your help.”
“Braden Riley,” the young man said. He cast a nervous look over his shoulder at his three companions. “This is Chuck, Mario, and Luigi.”
“My name is not Luigi!” one of them snapped, stepping forward and extending a hand to Catie. “My name is Louis.”
Catie shook the offered hand and gave a tilt of her head to each of the men at her shoulder. “This is Marty and Melvin. And since you haven’t run off in fear or tried to attack us, can I at least assume that you are interested in what we have in mind?”
“We haven’t run because those two look like they would have no problem shooting us with those crossbows they have on their shoulders.” Louis jutted his chin in the twins’ direction. “As for an attack, I think I would rather them shoot me than rip me apart like a daddy longlegs. Those two look like what I imagine when I read stories about huge ogres.”
“Wow, don’t hold back, kid,” Marty mumbled.
“First, I will tell you that we are in agreement that this community needs to be free to exist, and we also believe that the immune at Montague Village should be free as well. What we disagree with is the method.” Catie glanced back at the twins who nodded in consent. “I don’t think forcing people to be injected is the right way to go about it. I did not agree with biological or chemical warfare before the zombie apocalypse and I sure as hell don’t think it is the way to do things now. We just prove that we are the evil that those who hate us profess.”
“That is all good, but Dean Stockton made it clear a long time ago that he would not let the immune go. They are his best source of free labor. He can use them outside the walls as he sees fit without endangering one of the unknown,” Braden protested.
“That is because you have been going about this all wrong. You have let this man hold the high ground by kidnapping children,” Catie countered.
“We took the ones that we were asked to take by the families inside Montague,” Louis said with an openly defensive tone.
“But that is not how it is being sold to the people of Montague. Also, what you now have is a heavily slanted population that needs to be cared for versus one that can hold its own. And can I ask why it is that nobody else seems to be engaged in these missions that you boys have been running?” Catie elbowed Marty and indicated for him to retrieve the head and return it to the bag. The point had been made and there was now no longer a reason for it to be out in the open for anybody else to see.
“Who would you send?” Braden laughed. “The doc? Any of the medical people? Those folks are way too valuable.”
“What about some of these people that we see standing sentry positions?” Catie asked.
“Standing guard someplace safe is one thing,” Braden replied with a shake of his head. “Going out there where stuff can get real nasty in a hurry is another thing entirely. Elliot liked to keep it to just us and a few others.”
“Less people to worry about possibly defecting?” Melvin asked.
“You old people watched too many movies when you were young,” Braden snorted. “The truth was that this post was one hundred percent voluntary. Nobody was made to leave the community. He said that forcing people to act against their will was Dean’s way, not h
is.”
“And I am surprised that you all have survived this long.” Catie’s voice came in a harsh tone that made all four of the young men wince.
“Why?” Louis challenged. “Because we are not out trying to conquer our neighbors? We just want to be left in peace.”
“And how is that going for you?” Catie shot back.
“Fine until you showed up!”
Catie stepped right up to Louis. Her voice was little more than a low growl as she spoke, but all four of the young men could hear her very clearly. “This is not the world where you can just stick your head in the sand and wait things out. There are bad people out there who rape and murder for fun because nobody is out there to stop them. There are people who want to kill you because you are different, and you think parading a few hundred zombies down Main Street every so often is going to be enough. I just left an army behind that was led by a lunatic that makes Dean Stockton seem like an angel. If she would have turned south instead of north at some point, it might have been you and your people that she came across.”
“Sh-sh-she?” Louis sputtered.
“Did you think that only men could become evil, self-serving pieces of crap?” Catie scoffed.
She suddenly stepped in and grabbed Louis by the throat. With a single sweep of her foot, she swept his legs out from under him and was straddling his chest while his mouth opened and closed and he wheezed in a pitiful attempt to bring air back into his lungs.
“I could kill you right here and now before your buddies could take so much as a step closer to try and help you,” Catie said flatly, her nose almost touching Louis’ as she leaned in close.
Hopping to her feet, Catie wiped her hands on the seat of her pants and turned her attention back to Braden. The young man started to take a step back and then stopped, making a point of actually planting his feet. He shot a nervous glance at Marty and Melvin; neither who so much as flinched or batted an eye as they stood with their arms folded across their massive chests.
