Ten minutes later we were all seated around the big island in the kitchen, having cleared up what was a very large misunderstanding. The brunette, a teenager by the name of Brandy, sat with her little brother in her lap. The boy was a brown-eyed sprout who reminded me very much of my own Jake. Charlie and I just took in the conversation, offering little except to agree with our spouses when necessary.
Brandy was babysitting her baby brother when the world turned upside down. Her parents had gone out to dinner and never came back. She figured out what was going on and decided the best route to survival was to become invisible. When the zombies wandered nearby, she hid with her brother until they left. If looters came into the house, they could take whatever they wanted. Brandy knew she could always replace whatever they took. She apologized to Charlie and me about her comment. She figured out quickly that we weren’t there to hurt her, so she was hoping we would have been embarrassed enough to leave. I had to give her credit. I was nearly shocked enough to just quietly go away.
Sarah and Rebecca talked to Brandy for about fifteen minutes longer and then took us men out the front door. On the long walk up the driveway I asked Sarah if we were going to take them with us back to the caravan.
“No, we’re not,” She said.
“Are we sending them back to the capital?” I asked.
“Not this time,” Rebecca said.
Charlie exhaled loudly, which was a signal to anyone with any sense that his patience was running out. “Then what are we doing about them? And the answer had better be longer than three words.”
Rebecca set her jaw for a second before relaxing. She knew her husband and knew pushing it wasn’t the best thing right now. “Brandy has figured out how to survive, and she has managed to do so in a town that until recently was overrun with zombies. We don’t want to take everyone back to the capital to strain the resources there. We want to allow people to stay where they are, in familiar surroundings. How else do we take back the country if we don’t have anyone living anywhere except in one place?”
Even I couldn’t find fault in that logic and let both Rebecca and Sarah know that they just set in place a New United States federal policy. We decided to call it the Mind Our Own Business State Repopulation Initiative. At least, that’s what we would call it until someone more clever gave it real name.
We walked steadily back to the encampment, where dozens of RV’s were parked. We had liberated an RV dealership from several dozen zombie snowbirds looking to upgrade and found a better use for the travelling homes.
Outside of the encampment, there was a large gathering of men and women. They were circled around something, and from where I stood I couldn’t see what was going on. Charlie took off at a slow jog, and I joined him. We reached the outer edge of the circle and slowed to a stop. The few who looked our way recognized us and looked guiltily away.
“Clear a lane!” Charlie bellowed, causing several people to jump. Some looked sullenly at the intrusion but quickly backed away when they saw who it was. Rank sometimes had its privileges. We walked to the center of the crowd and stopped.
Standing casually with his hands clasped behind his back was Duncan. He was wearing a white tee shirt and black cargo pants, his hair wet from a recent shower. He was standing by Tommy, who was watching the scene in front of him impassively. Tommy was wearing his fighting gear and was easily a match for anyone in the circle. On the ground in front of Duncan and Tommy were three youths, all in various stages of pain and suffering. One, who I recognized as the boy who nearly got Duncan killed earlier today, was lying on his back, holding his sides. Another teen, a bruiser of a lad, was on his knees, holding the back of his head with one hand while the other barely kept him from falling on his face. The third, a tall skinny kid who showed some real promise with a blade, was sitting with his legs out on front of him. His right hand gripped his left shoulder tightly, trying to summon the courage to pull out the knife that was protruding from that same spot.
I spoke first. “Explanation. Now.”
“Duncan was heading over to your RV to help Janna babysit when these three thought they were going to jump him. After the first thrashing wasn’t enough, the tall one there turned it serious by pulling a knife. Why Duncan didn’t kill him I’m not really sure,” Tommy said.
The entire group watching us was silent. Attempted murder was a capital crime, and the new senate had strict rules on that. I didn’t have any real choice in the matter at all.
I pointed to three men on the edge of the clearing. “Rope, pole, and box. Quickly.” The men ducked out of the crowd to get the supplies I wanted.
I stepped over to the boy who gripped his shoulder. I knelt down and looked him in the face. He refused to look me in the eye and just stared at a spot somewhere behind me.
“Part of being a man is taking your licks and learning from them. The other part is taking responsibility for what you do. You chose to pull a knife and chose to try to seriously hurt or kill a fellow soldier. Anything to say in your defense?”
The boy continued to stare, his brow furrowed in rage, pain, and hate. I hated what was going to come next, but maybe it was for the better.
“Attempted murder then. Capital crime. Judgment?” I asked Tommy.
Tommy walked around the circle, and pointed to twelve citizens, gathering a verdict.
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
Eight more said the same thing. Had one said not guilty, we would have held a trial. As it was, we didn’t have to. “Guilty,” Tommy said. “Sentence is death by hanging, to be carried out immediately.”
The boy was hauled to his feet and his knife pulled out of his shoulder. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was led away to where the three men were waiting. At the sight of the hanging rope, the boy let out a single sob and then was silent. Without another word he allowed himself to have the noose placed around his neck, and he stepped without assistance onto the milk crate that was provided. The rope was pulled taut, and the crate was jerked out from under his feet. The boy struggled for a moment, and then was still. We let him hang for a few moments longer, making sure he was truly dead, then we let him down.
I ordered a burial detail, and when the body was interred I spoke the 23rd Psalm and a short prayer for the boy. Afterwards, I went back to the RV where my son was still awake and playing. Julia was all dolled up for her daddy’s return, and Janna scolded Duncan for causing a fuss. Duncan knew better than to argue the point.
We sat at the kitchen table and watched our kids play with each other. Sarah, Rebecca, and Janna joined us, and we were a tight little group.
“What the hell happened, Duncan?” I asked. “The last thing I needed was something like this so soon into the war.”
“Not sure what beef the other two might have had with me, but when they braced me in front of my home, what was I supposed to do? I put the three down not once, but twice. By the time they had gained their feet for the third time, the crowd had gathered. I put the two down again, and that’s when the third tried to stab me.”
Janna looked at me like it was my fault for some reason, and I looked back until she looked away. I turned to Duncan. “Can’t fault you for defending yourself. I’m just surprised you only got him in the shoulder. You out of practice or something?”
The tension broke, and we had a laugh at Duncan’s expense. Funny thing was, I really wasn’t kidding. Duncan was much better than that when it came to defending himself, and the remaining two of those boys were lucky to be alive.
In the morning, we gathered the troops and dispersed them for supplies. Anything of use for the war was to be placed in the back of the trailers. Anything we didn’t need right away was to be left behind. The theory behind that thinking was there might be other survivors in the area looking to live off the supplies they could scavenge, and I wasn’t going to starve anyone if I could help it.
Around mid-morning
, the reports came in that the supplies had been secured. During the scavenging, Sarah and Rebecca had taken a goodly amount back to Brandy, where Rebecca gave her brother a checkup. From the sound of things, the little guy really liked playing with the stethoscope.
By late morning, or naptime in Jake’s world, we were on the road. I wanted to get south and scout Kankakee by noon. I sent most of the army to the east with instructions to spread out and head south when they reached I-57. We would take a small unit and follow the river, coming into Bourbonnais by the west. I hoped to find at least some kind of community there, but with the interstate running right through the middle of town, it was unlikely that the place would be habitable. Coal City had been making runs to Kankakee along the river, and the folks down there had reported that the zombie activity wasn’t all that bad. But they hadn’t reported signs of any survivors, which made things pretty bad in my book.
The trip was slow since we stopped at every house we passed to see if there was anyone there either alive or dead. Mostly there was no one there, but occasionally we found a dead one wandering around. At one house, we actually met a man who had no idea the world had pretty much ended.
“Y’all from the gummint?” he asked, streaming a line of tobacco juice from his teeth.
“Well, I guess you could say we are.” I said. “Are you all alone out here, sir?”
“Nah. I got my dawgs. They keep me comp’ny. Say, you fellers look like you are doing some serious huntin’.”
“Sir, do you have any idea what’s happened to the world?” I asked.
“Why? Sumthin’ happen?”
“Sir, have you seen anything strange walking around?”
“Well, there was a feller a while back, stumbled arou’ like he was drunk or sumthin’.” The old man sniffed, causing his nostril hair to wave back and forth. “Figured he was one of them damn hippies thet git drugged up and wander around hereabouts.”
I looked at the man for a long time, then looked down at the three German shepherds that stared back at me impassively. Exhaling slowly, I did the only thing I could do.
“Have a good day, sir.”
“You, too, son. You, too. You find any of them hippies, you knock ‘em on the head for me, hear?” The man nodded at something in his imagination and closed the door.
Back at the RV, Charlie looked at me. I was tempted to let him go talk to the man, but then they probably came from the same part of Missouri, and we’d never see Charlie again.
“Keep moving,” I said, slowly shaking my head.
Bourbonnais, IL
We followed the river, and near the Kankakee River State Park we came across an encampment that straddled the river. The people had roped several dozen metal rowboats together along with a good number of aluminum canoes. The huge raft was then floored with planks that created a solid bottom, and small huts were spaced out all over the barge. Several ropes held the raft in place, and it looked like crops were growing on a large island the barge was tethered to. We spent about an hour trading information with the people of the barge, admiring their ingenuity and letting them know where things stood with Wilmington and the towns to the north. As we were leaving, I could see quite a few families begin the trek back to living on dry land. In all my travels, that had to be one of the more creative ways to survive the apocalypse.
We reached the outskirts of Bourbonnais and Charlie decided to follow the road that led towards the river again. We passed a couple of houses that looked okay from the front, so I wasn’t too concerned about what lay in front of us. We pulled up next to a large subdivision when Sarah, who was riding in the back with Jake, called up to me.
“John! Come here!”
I went to the back and gave Jake a quick tickle on the ribs. He squeaked and doubled over, bonking his head on the headboard. After we had calmed Jake down and dried his tears, Sarah pointed to the thing that she wanted me to see. Taking the binoculars, I scanned the homes we had passed.
The houses had their back windows broken out, and even at this distance I could see the sparkling of the glass in the grass by the house. Faded dark stains covered the windowpanes, and that meant only one thing.
The zombies that had been in that house had escaped, and they had come this way.
“Charlie!” I called.
But it was too late. I could hear Charlie yelling into the CB radio.
“Back! Get back! There’s too many! Pull back! Now!”
I ran to the front of the RV, while Sarah and Rebecca secured children and the windows. Charlie was trying to back up, and not doing a very good job of it. To the right of the RV, hundreds of zombies came stumbling out of the subdivision, spilling out of homes and crawling out of ditches. It was if the Upheaval had happened a week ago.
Ahead of us, a few zombies had made the road and were approaching the coach. In the mirror, I could see the other vehicles try to back up, and one turned wrong, blocking the road. In a minute we were going to be overwhelmed.
I grabbed the CB. “Follow us! Move it! Move it! We’ll clear a path!” I turned to Charlie. “Just go forward, follow the road. We need distance, and we need it now!”
“Done!”
Charlie threw the big vehicle in gear, and gunned the engine, causing the RV to lurch and sway. The zombies that were on the road were knocked out of the way by our reinforced grille. Every car had some kind of zombie mover on the front, and more than once we had lined up and cleared a highway of not quite dead roadkill.
We roared past the houses and threw ourselves down the street. I checked the mirror to see if everyone had made it with us, and I was doomed to fail. The furthest car had not made the move forward, and zombies were swarming all around it. If there was anyone in there, they didn’t have long among the living.
Charlie drove straight ahead, passing a side road and entering a small forest. It was impossible to see very far ahead, but I had to trust Charlie’s driving. We had four other cars we had to look out for, and we needed a place to hide or make a stand.
“Jesus!” Charlie cried out suddenly, slamming on the brakes. The RV screeched to a halt, sliding sideways on the gravel road. The road had suddenly ended at small maintenance shed, and then there was the river. If we hadn’t stopped, we would have driven right into the water.
“Call the others. If anyone can hear us, tell them where we are,” I said, unbuckling to go check on everyone else.
“Where are we?” Charlie asked.
“On the river, just east of Bourbonnais. That’s all I know right now. We have a sizable horde coming after us and could use a little backup,” I said, opening up the weapons locker and handing a rifle to Sarah. Rebecca took one as well, while Charlie and I wrapped the kids up in special backpacks which allowed them to ride on our backs while keeping our arms free. They weren’t too happy about it, and Jake tried to give a little attitude, but I wasn’t having it.
“Jake, I need you to be the big boy right now, do you understand me?” I asked, taking my own rifle out and checking the loads.
“Are the zombies coming, Dad?” Jake asked, looking up at me with those big brown eyes of his.
“They are, buddy. But daddy is going to take care of you.” I said, trying to be reassuring. We had about twenty minutes before these woods were full of zombies. The river was at our back, and we had no place to go.
“Are the zombies going to eat us?” Julia asked, turning her big blues on her daddy.
Charlie knelt down and gave his little girl a kiss on the top of her head. “They will never touch you as long as I’m here, baby girl. Never,” he said. Standing up, he looked at me. “What’s the plan?”
“Let’s get with the rest of our team, and I’ll tell you then, “I said. Charlie left the RV and I looked back at Sarah and Rebecca. I gave them a quick outline.
“We’re going to draw the zombies off into the woods. Stay low; stay quiet. They shouldn’t reach you here. Worst comes to worst, get on the boat. I’ll put it next to the river,” I said, l
eaving them behind. I hoped we could pull this off.
Charlie was talking to the rest of the team, fortunately they hadn’t rammed into us when we slammed on the brakes. Two men ran up the road we had just came down, likely scouting the zombies and figuring out how much time we had. Part of me wanted to try heading back, plowing through the horde, then linking up with the rest of the army, but it was iffy with large numbers of zombies. You soon started driving over them, killing your tires, and tipping your vehicle over. I had seen it happen with a large truck; it went over a big zombie, didn’t recover in time for another, and tipped right over.
I reached the group, and Charlie gave me the rundown of his plan. “We keep the area clear between us and the river. That’s our retreat if we need it. We run up to them as fast as we can, and just walk it back, shooting them as we go.”
I liked it. Simple and to the point. Besides, it was what we were out here for. Charlie and I told the others to grab their water gear and get it close to the river. That would be our retreat if we needed it. Charlie and I ran to the back of the RV and practically ripped off the small metal rowboat lashed to the back. We used it for simple crossings and sometimes for fishing, but it was sturdy enough to handle all four of us, plus enough supplies for three days. Right now it only had to keep us alive long enough to escape the horde coming at us.
We pushed the boat to the water’s edge and saw the others were right behind us. Kayaks, canoes, and a folding boat all waited at the water’s edge like faithful hounds before the hunt. It was tempting to just grab the families and go, but this group needed to be dealt with.
We took off up the road with Charlie and myself in the lead. Some people felt I should direct the war effort from the rear, sending in troops to deal with the zombie problem. But I could never send another to do something I wouldn’t do myself. Even before the Upheaval, I couldn’t do that. Besides, I always felt a leader should lead.
We ran up the road, catching sight of the two men who Charlie had dispatched earlier. They were running back, pointing and trying to speak at the same time.
The Zombie Wars: Call To Arms (White Flag Of The Dead Book 7) Page 3
