by James Gurley
12
June 16, 2016 Split Rock Canyon –
In his secluded little canyon fortress, Jake was pleased to see their living arrangement settle into a daily routine. Disorder was an anathema, and order was an island of stability amid a sea of insanity and chaos. The tension eased between him and Reed, or seemed to. Reed cherished his privacy, keeping to his RV most of the time, taking only dinner with him and Jessica. Sharing this last meal of the day gave them all the opportunity to talk things over and discuss plans for the future, and establish a division of chores. Reed proved less than enthusiastic about feeding the animals. He and animals didn’t seem to see eye to eye. After one of the goats butted him in the ass as he bent over to pour feed into their trough, he refused to go near them. However, his surprising skills as a mechanic soon had the water pump working more efficiently.
Jessica’s attitude had changed, as if she had reached some kind of a decision. She became a willing pupil, eager to learn all she could about weapons and survival. He showed her how to disassemble the .45 and the rifle, and the proper way to clean and oil the parts. Her sudden change in attitude mystified him, but her enthusiasm pleased him. Soon, she would become a dependable third member of their group instead of someone he would have to watch over. To his surprise, her metamorphosis from frightened caterpillar to bold butterfly took only the best part of a week.
“What changed your mind?” he asked early one morning, as they gathered vegetables before the heat of the day made the task uncomfortable. The air was still and warm in prelude to the one-hundred-plus degree heat that would come later in the day.
Jessica still wore his cut off jeans shorts and a too large t-shirt with no bra. The sweat-dampened shirt clung to her breasts like Saran Wrap, hiding nothing from him. He found it difficult to concentrate.
“You did,” she replied.
He didn’t know what he had said or done that had finally gotten through to her, but he was satisfied. “That’s good. For a while, I was afraid for you.”
She smiled. “Not now?”
“Maybe a little, but you’re learning quickly.” A dark thought crossed his mind. “Are you in a hurry to leave?”
Her composure broke just slightly, not enough for him to decide if he had hit upon the answer or if the thought of leaving disturbed her. “No.”
Maybe it was just his ego, but his heart quickened at her answer. Being alone for so long, even at his choosing, had created a distance between him and other people’s problems. Now, a small portion of the human race had entered his small world, and he found that he liked it. He didn’t kid himself by calling it love. He appreciated Reed’s help and certainly enjoyed sex with Jessica, but he knew it could all disappear in a dark instant, leaving him back where he started. He didn’t want Jessica to leave, but he wouldn’t force her to stay. He had known her for less than a week, but the thought of losing her sickened him. He hadn’t invested as much of himself in another person in a long time. He felt exposed and confused by the inrush of feelings to which he had thought himself immune. It wasn’t love, but it was close enough.
“Good,” he replied. “You’re not ready yet.”
She placed a handful of beans in the basket she carried draped from her arm, wiped her forehead with the back of her arm, and said, “I can shoot. You taught me well.”
“You can hit a target, and you can hit a zombie. You know zombies aren’t the only threat out there. Killing a person takes some … I won’t call it courage, but it takes deliberation. It’s not something taken lightly. They might think they have the same right to kill you as you do them. ”
Her face clouded for a moment. Then she replied, “I’ll defend myself if I have to.”
He believed her. “Good.” He decided to leave it there. There was no use in pushing her further until the need to prove herself arose.
As they were talking, Reed joined them, perspiring profusely. His bold-print shirt lay sweat-plastered to his body. He looked decidedly uncomfortable in the heat. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation about bigger weapons. They have weapons at the WATTS Army National Guard at Pinal Air Park. Why don’t we get some?”
“How do you know they didn’t take them with them when they evacuated?”
“They didn’t,” he said, and then added, “I’m willing to bet on it.”
Jake stared at Reed. Reed’s certainty confused him, but life was a gamble. “It’s worth a shot.”
“When do we go?” Jessica asked.
“Now is as good a time as any,” Jake said, snipping one last tomato from its vine and placing it in the basket.
* * * *
The Pinal Air Park was just north of Marana off I-10. By sticking to the back roads most of the way, they avoided areas infested with zombies. While passing through San Manuel, Jake noticed Reed staring at the wisps of smoke still rising from the school he had torched. Luckily, the wind blew from the northwest, taking with it the stench of burnt flesh and decay. He wondered how Reed felt about his act of arson. It was obvious the former schoolteacher had acted out of frustration and anger. Did he now regret burning down the school? If so, he said nothing about it.
South of Oracle, they doubled back north along Highway 79, passing a few abandoned vehicles along the way, but spotting few zombies in the sparsely populated area. Cutting west across the desert using dirt roads, they soon reached I-10. Here, they found long lines of cars and trucks choking the Westbound and Eastbound lanes, contributors to the last great traffic snarl before the Interstate was closed. Even the access road was blocked. They weaved through and around cars, shoving a few off the road, stopping long enough to cut a gap through the chain link fence separating the Interstate from the side roads. They crossed over I-10 on the Pinal Air Park exit.
The Air Park was long abandoned. Lines of mini sand dunes swept in from the surrounding desert like waves on the beach, burying much of the tarmac beneath layers of sand and a year’s growth of weeds and shrubs. Mounds of dry tumbleweeds piled against the undercarriages of the museum airplanes like kindling for a bonfire. A zombie wearing tattered army fatigues stood near the open front gate like a forgotten sentry. He was barely more than skin and bones. Even in his starved stupor, he sensed fresh meat nearby. As the creature staggered toward the jeep, Jake shot him in the head with the crossbow to avoid attracting more of the creatures with gunfire.
Only two Apache AH-64 helicopters remained at WAATS, the Western Army National Guard Training Site at the Silverbell Army Heliport. Upon closer inspection, he saw the reason for their abandonment. Both had been cannibalized for parts, including their GE-T700 turboshaft engines and 30mm M230 Chain guns. Jake would have loved to get his hands on one of the chain guns for some real firepower.
They located the armory quickly enough inside one of the barracks buildings. The steel vault door of the armory was locked. Reed placed his last pipe bomb where the lock met the door jam. He seemed confident the gunpowder explosive could open the door, but Jake had his doubts. The door looked too solid and heavy. He and Jessica took shelter outside while Reed lit the fuse, rushed outside, and squatted against the wall. The explosion shook the ground and rattled the building. Inside, amid a cloud of smoke and dust, the vault door was swinging free.
“It worked!” Reed yelled. He seemed as surprised as Jake at the bomb’s effectiveness.
The vault contained a locked cabinet and a fenced area stacked with crates of ammunition and a rack of weapons. In their haste to evacuate the base, the Guard had left much of their armament behind. Jake felt like a kid in a candy store as he stood in the open doorway. He immediately grabbed two M 4 carbines from the wall.
“These babies fire 5.56 mm NATO rounds and have excellent range.” He also stuffed two M9 Beretta 9 mms into his belt.
“Where are the explosives? This is mostly ammunition.” Reed asked in disappointment, as he pulled out crates and read labels. “I thought there would be grenades and Claymore mines.”
“The Guard doesn�
�t keep things like that around. We’ll take what we can get,” Jake said.
He forced open the cabinet with a pry bar he had brought along. Inside, he spotted an AA-12 full-auto twelve-gauge shotgun still in its case. He wondered why the Guard had left the experimental automatic assault shotgun behind but didn’t question his luck. The eight-shell magazine was attached, but to his delight, he found a thirty-two-shell drum magazine in a separate box on the bottom shelf. He held the shotgun in his hands, marveling at the light weight. Now, he could retire his old Versa Max.
He entered the wire cage with Reed and began ferrying boxes of 7.62 mm ammunition to the door. Reed stopped him.
“What’s that for? There’s nothing here that fires that caliber.”
Jake smiled. “Oh, I might find a use for it.”
Reed scowled as he realized Jake was keeping another secret from him, but said nothing.
After a few minutes, Jake stopped and mopped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. “I think we’ve got all we can carry,” he said, staring at the growing pile of weapons.
Reed didn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly agreed. He dropped a case of smoke grenades he was carrying on the floor. “I guess we really don’t need these.”
As they loaded the jeep, zombies began appearing from a few of the nearby buildings. He had hoped to get away without firing a shot, but that now seemed unlikely. He broke open a case of 12-gauge shells and began loading the AA-12’s drum magazine. By the time the jeep was loaded, a dozen zombies had noticed them and began lumbering in their direction.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Do we really want to leave the rest of this ammunition for someone else to find?” Reed asked.
Jake looked at the building and then at the approaching zombies. It would be close. “Okay.” He grabbed a road flare from the glove box and hopped out of the jeep. “Crank the jeep and be ready to go,” he told Jessica. She slid over to the driver’s side. She looked worried but said nothing.
Jake raced through the dormitory ripping sheets from the beds. He piled the sheets around cases of ammunition, struck the flare, and dropped it amid the sheets. Within seconds, the sheets began smoldering. As he exited the barracks building, a zombie stood between him and escape. He raised the AA-12 and fired low so he wouldn’t hit Jessica or Reed. The 12-gauge pellets took the zombie’s leg off below the knee. Jake leaped over it as it fell. The jeep was moving as he climbed in.
“Go!” he yelled.
Jessica floored the pedal, heading directly toward a crowd of zombies. Jake glanced back at the armory. Several zombies gathered near the door, drawn by the earlier explosion. The first pops of ammunition exploding was disappointingly small. Before Jake could express his frustration, several larger explosions quickly followed. Smoke and flames spilled out the open door, igniting the zombies. Flaming pyres, they turned toward the sounds of the explosions just as the entire building disintegrated with a flash and a thunderous boom. The zombies disappeared, along with most of the building. The concussion and a wall of heated air and dust rolled along the tarmac and slammed into the jeep. Jessica swerved but kept the jeep upright.
As they plowed into the crowd of zombies, bits and pieces of wreckage began raining down on them. Jake brushed away a hot piece of metal, noticing absently that it was a spent 5.56 mm round, leaned over the side of the jeep and began firing. The twelve-gauge pellets ripped through the creatures like baby buzz saws, separating heads from shoulders and punching fist-sized holes through chests. He fired as quickly as he could pull the trigger. The zombies paid no heed to the carnage around them in their need to reach the jeep. Jessica hit one head on. It crumpled and rolled beneath the jeep. He quickly dispatched the remaining creatures.
Patting the still warm barrel of the shotgun, he said, “I like this.”
Reed stared at the remains of the armory beneath a large cloud of black smoke. Bullets still shot into the sky like fireworks. He turned to face Jake and said, “We should stop at a Radio Shack so I can round up some cameras and wiring for alarms,” as if he were suggesting a shopping trip to the corner market.
Jake smiled and glanced at Jessica. “You’ll have to talk to our driver.”
“As long as I can pick up some decent clothes,” she replied. “I’m tired of your cast offs.
13
June 16, 2016 Oro Valley, Arizona –
The explosion had been loud enough to rattle windows and awaken Levi from a sound sleep. He rolled a still sleeping Hawk off his arm and padded to the window naked. A billowing black cloud rose above the horizon to the north. The unmistakable popping sound of ammunition exploding brought a smile to his lips. Someone somewhere was having some fun. He had no doubt that it was the trio who had wiped out his previous companions, the cop. Behind him, Hawk stirred. He turned to stare at her. One breast with a thimble-sized nipple protruded from beneath the covers. Their lovemaking had been vigorous, a tug-of-war between two strong-willed people, each bent on dominating the other. Despite her obvious hatred of him, she had seen to his satisfaction before allowing him to minister to her needs. He could tell that she was awake.
“You’re not curious?” he asked.
She rolled over on her side and propped herself up on one elbow. In that position, the scar on her temple made her look like a fierce Amazon warrior. “Should I be?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s enough that I am. I think my cop friend is consolidating power.”
“You hate him, don’t you?” She smiled as she spoke, delighting in tormenting him.
“He tried to kill me, so yes, I’m a little miffed.” He flashed her a tight-lipped grin. “I don’t forgive easily.”
She rolled out of bed, giving him a quick glimpse of her shaved pubes, pulled up her jeans, and grabbed her shirt from the floor. She slid it over her head and sat on the edge of the bed, as she donned her socks and laced her boots. Levi stiffened when she reached for her pistol and knife. He was naked and unarmed. She noticed his look of concern and smiled.
“Don’t worry. If I decide to kill you, I’ll tell you first.”
She walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Levi relaxed.
“Someday I’ll have to kill that bitch.”
He dressed and went downstairs. The smell of burned bacon filled the kitchen from an untended skillet on the stove. He grabbed the handle, burned his fingers on the hot metal, and grabbed a rag from the counter. He turned off the flame and slid the smoking skillet to the side.
“Which one of you fucks is trying to burn down the house?” he yelled.
One of the women, a mousey young thing who called herself Flicker, rushed in, saw the mess, and cursed. “I was …”
Levi slapped her across the mouth hard enough to draw blood. She staggered against the counter, staring at him in fear. He pointed a forefinger at her. “Don’t ever leave stuff cooking on the stove while you go do drugs. Do you want to burn us out?”
“I was …” she began.
He raised his hand in the air to strike her again, and she cowered. “I don’t mind the drugs, but when they interfere with business, I put my foot down. If you don’t want to become zombie bait, you’d better straighten your shit up.” He looked at the ruined bacon, noticed there was no coffee brewing, and growled, “Make some coffee, goddamn it! Do something useful.”
He left Flicker massaging her split lip and walked into the living room. Empty beer cans, plates of half-eaten food, and dirty clothes lay scattered across every surface. Half a dozen men in various states of undress and drunken stupor filled the room with the stench of unwashed bodies and farts. Weapons, some as filthy as their owners, lay discarded on the floor. He could tolerate lousy personal grooming habits, but not a blatant disregard for good weapons.
“Get off you asses and clean those weapons before they blow up in your faces the next time you use them.”
People glanced up with dazed expressions, but they began moving, if slowly, gathering weapons. A secret thrill
coursed through his veins that he could motivate such men through fear and intimidation. Almost any one of them could have broken his back in a fair fight, but he had no intention of fighting fair, and they knew it. None had the temperament to be leaders. Each one had already submitted himself to the leadership of others since the end of the world. Levi had simply become the latest in a long line of cruel bosses.
“Did any of you notice the explosions to the north?”
They glanced at one another uncomprehendingly.
“I thought not. Does anyone know what might be burning north of here?”
One raised his hand. “A house?” he said.
At Levi’s scowl, he backed away. “The only thing north of Marana that could blow up like that is the National Guard Armory at the Pinal Air Park. I know because I intended for us to go there yesterday and raid it, but you assholes were too busy partying. Now, someone else has beaten us to it. Now, they have machine guns and explosives, while we have these.” He kicked a .38 Smith and Wesson pistol lying on the floor into a corner with the toe of his boot.
“I know where we can get some machine guns,” one of the group said.
Levi stared at him. He thought the man’s name was Justin or Justice. He wasn’t sure which. “Where?”
“A gun shop on the south side,” Justin said.
“No, fool, I want something good, not more hunting rifles and pistols.”
“No, no. This guy keeps a few goodies locked up in back. You know, AK47s, M16s, the good stuff.”
“You’re sure of this?”
