“Question for you, sir?” Tom asked.
“What’s that?”
“Where do you and your crew fit in? We have scouts for the three divisions, but where will you be?” Tom wanted to know.
I looked at the three faces turned towards me. “I’ve got a wife who is going to give birth in approximately 5 months,” I said. “If I miss that then I will have to deal with Sarah. Now I can miss it if any of you would want to deal with her for me,” I suggested.
Three sets of hands went up to a chorus of, ‘No, thanks.’ I laughed with Charlie. Apparently my wife had a bit of a reputation.
“We are going to tackle the only part left open. We’re hitting the road to the southern end of Illinois, and we’re going to clean it out from the bottom to the top,” I said. “The four of us should be able to manage it until we meet again on the other side of winter.”
It was getting cooler, and that meant we would be able to hunt zombies much more quickly. The downside was the army was heading to a part of the country that didn’t freeze all that often. The best we could hope for was the zombies would be somewhat sluggish, but definitely not frozen.
“When do you want to tell the army?” Ted said.
“Let’s give them a couple of days to settle, relax, and get themselves some good food. We found a good amount of wine, so the bar can be open for a day,” I said.
After that the meeting was adjourned. Charlie and I waited for the men to leave, and then we all sat at the remaining chairs.
“Any problem with the plan?” I asked quietly. If any of these men had an objection, the whole deal was off. This was my real council of war.
“We’re banking on a good amount of recruitment. My only concern is not finding anyone willing to support the cause,” Tommy said.
“Agreed. We had people standing around that joined for the chance to strike back. Some people out here have farms to tend to, communities they belong to, what have you. If I was out here with my family alone and someone came along and said, ‘Join us to fight the zombies! The cause is just! You might not live through it, but what the hell!’” Charlie said. “I’d be slightly reluctant to take up the cause, you know?”
“Agreed. But the plan was made without counting on a lot of recruitment. I’d personally be happy if they just took some supplies, agreed to clear out their local area, and left it at that. If we could get every group we meet to just clear out an area of ten square miles, we’d be way ahead,” I said.
“That’s our focus on our trip back. We move through, we find the living, and get them to take their lives and their homes back. It’s that simple,” Duncan said.
“The best plans usually are,” Tommy said.
“Of course, the best way to hear God laugh is to announce your plans,” I said.
Somewhere down below, someone laughed out loud, and I knew in my heart of hearts it was not a coincidence.
Morganfield, KY
The army planned to stay at the forest area for another three days. We were rested enough that we left on the morning of the second day. With the supply trucks nearby, we were able to replenish our stores and our ammo. Fully loaded for bear, we took off to parts west, looking to reach the southern edge of Illinois in a few days. That was the plan, anyway, but as we learned all too often, the best plans usually went south within a few seconds of starting.
We were halfway through the first day of travel when we came into what looked like a living community. The houses were not burned, smashed into or out of, and there looked to be laundry drying on several lines. Given the relative cleanliness of the sheets, I’d say they hadn’t been hanging there for three years.
We drove slowly into the town, not really sure of where we were. There were no signs welcoming us, and as we drove slowly into the community, we noticed that there were no street signs, no cars, and no trucks.
“Getting a weird vibe here, Charlie,” I said, scanning the street.
“Same here,” said Charlie. “Where is everyone?”
“Is today Sunday?” I asked.
“Not really sure. Could be.”
“Do we want to pull over?”
“Anything we need right now?”
“Nope.”
“Move on, then,” I said. I waved out the window at Duncan who was driving the truck behind us.
“What the hell?” Charlie said quietly.
I looked forward and copied Charlie’s exclamation.
In front of us, blocking the road, was a crowd of about two hundred people. They were all standing in neat rows of ten, extending back about ten people. Every single one of them was dressed in simple white clothing. The men wore white shirts tucked into white slacks, while the women wore white dresses with white aprons. Every single man had his hair cut the exact same way, and every woman had her hair in a long braid down her back.
“Aw, great. Cultists,” Charlie said, shaking his head. He brought the truck to a stop.
“Take it easy. We can always turn around,” I said.
“Haven’t looked through the side mirror yet, have you?” Charlie said.
I glanced down and looked behind the rear truck. Another hundred came out from the sides and blocked the way back. They didn’t say anything, they just stood there. It was almost as if they were waiting for us to make a move.
I picked up the CB. “Watch the sides, Tommy. Duncan, the rear is yours. Do not let anyone approach you.”
“Roger that.”
I stepped out of the vehicle. I left my rifle behind, hoping we could just move on from this creepy place. I stepped a few feet in front of the truck, but still off to the side. If Charlie had to move, I wanted to be out of the way.
I called out to the assembled group. “May I speak to the person in charge?”
The people made no answer. They just stared at me with blank eyes. It was almost as if they were drugged or something.
“Last chance, and then we’re leaving, one way or the other. May I speak with the person in charge?” I said, louder than the first time.
From a small house off to the right, a young man dressed in black walked out the front door. He wore a simple, oxford style black shirt, and unadorned black pants. His black boots made little sound as he walked down the driveway. He was carrying a small black book, and there was a simple wooden cross hanging from a cord around his neck. He walked without looking up, and from what I could see, he was probably around twenty years old. Something was very wrong with this setup.
Charlie called from the truck. “John. Watch the left.”
I took a closer look at the approaching man and saw there was a slit in his shirt on both sides of his buttons. His pants had odd knobs right along his seams, and they looked a little stiff, too. Charlie had spotted it correctly. This one had weapons on him. Question was, what kind? And why were all of these people falling in line? Hell, they outnumbered him two hundred to one.
The man in black walked forward, keeping a slight smile on his face. His countenance was angelic, but I could see his eyes measuring what he saw and calculating what he needed to do.
When he was about ten feet from me I held up a hand. “That’s far enough.”
The man kept walking and when he hit six feet I said louder, “That’s far enough!”
He kept the smile on his face, and his hand dropped down towards his pants. When he was within arm’s reach I acted. Stepping forward suddenly, I planted a foot in his chest and kicked back, launching the smaller man backwards and sending him tumbling back up the driveway. He scrambled to his feet with a shocked look on his face. He quickly regained control and started walking forward again. This time, both his hands were down by his sides.
I wasn’t too concerned about Blackie. If he wanted to commit suicide, I’d oblige him. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d done and probably wasn’t going to be the last. I’d avoid it if possible, since we were surrounded by a whole lot of white weirdos.
Charlie had had enough. He popped out of the truck and leve
led his pistol across the roof at Blackie’s chest.
“Keep walking, and I’ll send you to paradise, jackass,” Charlie said. “Unless you’re deaf, stop where you are.”
The man was obviously unimpaired with his hearing when he stopped halfway back to where he was kicked.
“What brings you to our small piece of heaven, strangers? I do apologize for my manners, I was simply unsure if you were real or figments of my over active imagination,” Blackie said. “Please. May I approach?” He held his hands out as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to surrender or give a hug.
“Actually, no,” I said. “From where I’m standing you’re wearing at least four knives. Given the level of control you seem to have over your flock, I’d say you’ve done something nasty with those knives. Little zombie virus, maybe?” I asked.
That must have hit the mark, because he started a little.
I continued. “Yeah, you’re not the first one to try it. Come into a town, tell everyone you’re immune, you’ve got the touch, don’t mess with you because God’s wrath will descend upon thee. Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. “
“You must have hit this town when they were on their last leg, hoping for a miracle,” I said. “Bad luck they got you instead.” I turned to the crowd. “Well, I’ll leave it all up to the rest of you. Do you want to get on with your lives, like before? Maybe get a chance at a real life, not just survival?” I saw some eyes turn my way, and I knew some were listening.
“My name is John Talon. I’m the Chief Executive of the New United States. We’re at war right now with the zombies. I have three armies working on clearing out the dead from here to the Appalachian Mountains. I’m going to try and clear out Illinois. There is a capital and dozens of communities to the north. Hell, in Lafayette they have hundreds of people doing just fine.” I pointed back at Blackie. “Or you could keep following him and worry about getting your tidy whiteys all dirty every day.”
That did it. The people lined up suddenly broke ranks and started walking towards their homes. Several of the men nodded at me, and I returned the favor. Blackie watched his world disintegrate like a cracker in a hailstorm.
“You!” He rushed at me, running to the right to put me between Charlie’s gun and himself. Two of his hands were raised, and long thin knives were extended in each. Both were black and shiny, almost as if they were wet. Instinctively I knew I didn’t want those things even touching me.
I sidestepped his headlong rush and dodged his swing with the blade. Pivoting on my right foot brought my left fist crashing into his kidney, sending him headlong into the ditch. He lay there for a long while, and I saw his back shudder a few times.
I looked over at Charlie. “Crying?” I mouthed at him.
Charlie shrugged. Then he pointed. “Take him down,” he said.
I looked and saw Blackie slowly starting to get up. He was moving stiffly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his arms and legs. His head bobbed a little, and then it slowly swiveled around.
I took my knife out of its sheath and stepped around, moving to a little flatter ground. Blackie was acting strange and sadly familiar. I looked over at Duncan, and he was staring at Blackie, then he suddenly swung his rifle up. It was then I knew what had happened.
Blackie turned to me and stared at me with blank eyes. His mouth tried to work out a sound, but all that came out was a hiss. His speaking ability was hampered by the fact that one of his knives was sticking out of his throat. I knew for certain that he had somehow contaminated those blades and used the threat of zombification to keep the rest of the town in line.
He moved slowly towards me, adapting to his new locomotion, his hand reaching out to grasp, pull, and claw.
I wasn’t going to wait for him. I stepped forward in a lunge, spearing his eye with my blade. It was a very nice knife Duncan had found for me. It was a single edged Bowie with a straight edge curving upward in a slow turn. The blade was twelve inches long and about a quarter inch thick. I wasn’t sure if I was going to replace my other one, but I did like this one.
Blackie’s other eye looked over at the blade in its face, then it rolled up, and the man was dead. He fell forward, and I danced back to get out of the way. My blade made a squishy sound when it pulled out of his face, loud enough to make the rest of my crew flinch.
“Geez. That guy was noisy,” Duncan said.
“Did you hear the pop when the blade came out?” Tommy said.
“No. Did it really? Hey, John! Stick your knife back in him, and pull it out. I wanna hear the pop,” Duncan said.
“Safe that gun and grow up,” I said, annoyed. I wasn’t irritated about the request, but Duncan was still pointing his gun my way.
Duncan winced. “Shit. Sorry.” He swung the rifle up and over, securing it in the truck. Charlie gave him a frown, and Duncan made a face back at him.
Three women and a man approached the trucks, and I could see they were grateful for the assistance.
“Thank you, sir, for your help,” the nearest woman said. She was about my age, with light brown hair. Her face was thin, and her backstory looked to have a decent amount of pain in it.
“My pleasure,” I said. “Although he actually killed himself. I just took care of the zombie that sprouted up in his place.”
“Our thanks. We have a good community here and would like to keep it. May we send a representative to your capital?” she asked.
“Surely,” I said. “Head north along 41, then turn left around route 30. When you hit the river, follow it north. You’ll run right into it,” I said.
“How far?” The man asked.
“It used to be Leport, just a short run south of Chicago. Can’t miss it.”
“So a couple weeks?”
“Walking, sure. About five days with careful driving.”
“Obliged.”
The group left, and I looked over at Charlie.
“Great. New neighbors.” He said.
“You’re becoming that guy,” I said.
“What guy?”
“The one who yells at the kids to get off his lawn.”
“Shut up.”
Marion, IL
We pulled out of Morganfield and took Route 56 towards Illinois. The route was pretty tranquil, and we passed a couple of homes on some hills that looked like they might have some life in them. We made a slow turn to the north, and suddenly the sides of the road disappeared. Where there was once grass and a few trees, now there was nothing but trees. The road dropped away sharply on both sides, and we couldn’t see anything except for leaves, sky, and road. Off in the distance, I could see the beams of the bridge that would take us into Illinois.
The river appeared as suddenly as the trees did. One minute we were watching the bridge approach, and the next we were high above the water. The river was wide, nearly half a mile where we were crossing. Not that it was all that surprising, since the sign told me we were crossing the Ohio River.
We crossed without incident, and damned if the trees didn’t come right back on this side of the water. Several of them smacked our truck as we drove by, clearly intent on taking back the road that had once invaded their territory.
The road to Shawneetown was uneventful except for a lot of trees. South of us were some large hills which seemed out of place for the flatness of the surrounding area. I commented on it to Charlie.
“See that ridge?” I pointed to the south.
“Kind of hard to miss it, but yes,” Charlie said.
I ignored his sarcasm. “On the other side of that ridge is a bunch of hills, canyons, valleys, and such. Hundreds of square miles of woods and rock formations.”
Charlie looked with interest. “You don’t say?”
“Yep. When the glaciers came down from the north, they pushed a bunch of dirt, rock, and such in front of them. When they stopped, that stuff stopped, too, making those hills,” I said. “It’s kind of like a time machine. On this side of the ridge is what the area looked like after t
he glaciers stopped, and on the other side is what the area looked like before the glaciers came.”
“Interesting,” Charlie said. “Looks like it’s would make a great defensive work against the Z’s from the north.”
“Interesting,” I said back. “Finish your thought.”
“I’d bet there’s a few live ones on the other side of that ridge,” Charlie said. “And if I know rural America, more than a few of them are hunters and are familiar with guns.”
I thought about that one. “Turn south when you can,” I said.
“You got it.”
As it turned out, Charlie was right. When we made our way south, we crossed through a couple barriers. They weren’t much, but they would keep the zombies out. Deep in the forest we came across a huge community of survivors. They were doing very well by all accounts, living off what the forest had to offer and generally surviving. When we asked for some help with the war, over five hundred volunteers showed up. Charlie explained that the worst thing that could happen to these people was they were currently bored.
I used that to organize them into another brigade, and charged them with clearing out the land south of Route 13. They took to it with enthusiasm, and in the morning they pulled out of the community, marching north to Harrisburg. They planned on visiting every house south of 13 and would take care of any zombie problems they might encounter.
We pulled out ourselves after refreshing our water and food supplies. I rode with Tommy, changing places with Duncan just to be able to talk with someone different for a while.
Ironically, we rode in silence for a bit, following the ridge to Marion. On the outside of the town, we stopped and decided to take a longer look. I took the binoculars and headed up to the ridge with Tommy following behind.
At the top, we found ourselves about fifty feet in the air looking down on the flatlands that made up of most of Illinois.
“Nice area. Never came down here myself, but I’ve heard this part of the state wasn’t like any other, except for the northwestern corner,” Tommy said.
The Zombie Wars: Call To Arms (White Flag Of The Dead Book 7) Page 13
