Whatever It Takes To Survive

by Mike Staton

  Judith’s gaze snapped away from the corpse and she moved away, disappearing behind another tent.

  Samuel sat down. “Fuck…”

  Percival crouched down and lightly touched Kat’s shoulder. She jerked to the side, fell to her butt and scrambled a couple inches back. She hastily wiped vomit from her lips and nose. “What the fuck, Percival? What. The. Fuck.”

  Percival shook his head once, let his shoulders roll forward in relaxation. “I’m sorry.”

  Kat closed her eyes and he watched the ice slide over her as her composure returned. She took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes once more. “I… No. Fuck it. I forgive you. Just warn me next time. Brain matter doesn’t come out of jeans.”

  She rattled off a few more expletives before another deep breath finalized her calming procedure. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Yeah… I need your steady hands again.” Percival twisted his head away from her. He hadn’t needed to smash Bloku’s head into the dirt, and doing so had undone a fair amount of her work. But it’d sent a wave of peacefulness through him. It snapped a taunt wire within him that’d been coiling since he’d heard the man’s words in the Knoxville suburb.

  “You going to learn your lesson this time?” Kat looked away from him for a moment while she picked up her rifle and modified paintball mask.

  “Which lesson is that?” He offered her a hand to help her climb to her feet. A hand she pushed away. He deserved that.

  “Let’s see what they have to offer.” Kat climbed to her feet without his assistance, ignoring his question, and moved toward the tent Samuel sat near. She dropped a hand onto his shoulder and said something quiet to the young man that Percival didn’t quite catch. Whatever she said seemed to have the desired effect as he looked up at her and nodded.

  “Sure. I can do that.” Samuel took her hand and rose to his feet. “I know I’m not and he’s not. It’s… Can we talk later?”

  Kat didn’t answer for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”

  Samuel looked from Kat to Percival. He visibly steeled himself, rolling his shoulders back and steadying his feet, before he walked past Percival and disappeared into the tent Judith’d disappeared behind.

  “What’d you say to him?” Percival moved up next to Kat.

  “Nothing that is for your ears. I’m not inciting mutiny, if you’re worried about it.” Kat moved next to the tent Bloku’d come out of. She lifted the flap and poked her head inside. “Come on.”

  She disappeared into the tent. A moment later and he followed her within. The interior of the tent held a pair of cots, the furthest wasn’t made, and three footlockers. Kat had already moved across the dim interior to the closest of the footlockers.

  She rested her rifle atop the closest cot and pulled her hand-axe from her hip. She brought it up and swiftly back down atop the combination lock on the locker. A sharp metal ping resounded through the tent at the impact. She swiftly struck it again, and on the third hit, the lock swept away to the ground with a dull thud.

  “You could work on… No, never mind. I don’t want to have to do more work than’s necessary. Sit on the cot and wait.” Kat didn’t turn to face him as she pulled the shackle off the footlocker and flipped the top open. She rifled through the contents for a moment, then pulled out a red and white case emblazoned with ‘FIRST AID’ across the top.

  “Lucky shot.” Percival shrugged his sledgehammer off and sat down on the closest of the cots.

  “Pure skill. Alright, jacket and shirt off. I’m getting tired of seeing you shirtless just to stitch you up.” Kat’s voice, while playful, came out cold as she sifted through the contents of the first aid kit. “Eventually I’m going to stop putting effort into closing your wounds and then where’d you be?”

  He shook his head, shed helmet, jacket, and shirt for her. The dressings on his wounded arm were soaked through with blood, a trickle running down his forearm to his fingertips. “I don’t know. Dead in a ditch somewhere I’d imagine.”

  She shook her head and set her supplies on the cot next to him. A few snips from the shears and she’d cut away the soiled bandage. She carefully removed the core and inspected the damage he’d done to himself. “After I’m through with you, will you promise me to be less stupid in the future?”

  “No.” He winced as she cleaned the wound up once more. It seemed to him that she was far rougher than she needed to be.

  Kat silently worked on him. She cleaned up the wound, it really looked worse than it truly was. She repaired or replaced the stitches he’d damaged in his moment of fury.

  “Does it get easier?” She asked as she tied off the final one. Her voice was so low he almost didn’t hear her.

  “Does what get easier?” He reached past her and picked up the gauze from the first aid kit and laid it over his wound as she seemed frozen for a moment.

  “Killing. Killing people. Living people. I can put a thousand rounds through a thousand rotting corpses and do another thousand more. But…” She shook her head. The ice that’d enveloped her earlier was gone. The queen of calm had melted to a shaken young woman. “Does killing living, breathing people get easier?”

  Percival reached down and took her bloody, gloved hand and squeezed it for a moment. “So long as you don’t ever start enjoying it, it’s fine.”

  Kat’s gaze rose to meet his. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Stop beating around the bush. Does it get easier? Or is every time just as gut wrenching as the first?”

  Percival closed his eyes as she started to work on bandaging his arm. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he sorted his feelings.

  He could justify nearly everyone he’d killed. He didn’t enjoy a single one of those murders, but he hadn’t hesitated after the first bullet he’d fired on a rainy night atop a roof in a military depot.

  And he’d do it again if it were necessary.

  “It gets easier. It doesn’t make you a monster any more than it makes me a monster. Or Lieutenant Adams, for that matter. I’m sure she’s done some folk as well.” He winced as she yanked the bandage tight and finished once she was done. “I wish I could tell you that it was hard to snap that trigger on Morrbid, or to smash Greyson’s face into the drywall behind his head. But, it was easier than shooting the fake military guys from the rooftop. Do I still see their faces at night when I dream? Sometimes.”

  Kat nodded mutely. The ice regrew over her facial features as she slid into a professional composure that left him envious.

  “Know what never got easier?” Percival didn’t wait for an answer. “Having to put down a friend. Or leave one behind. And that’s the sort of thing that shouldn’t ever get easy.”

  * * *

  They had quickly finished searching the campsite once Kat’d finished with Percival’s arm. It had been far sparser than she’d hoped it would with few clues pointing where to find the rest of the people who occupied the space. They’d taken the ammunition and remaining rifle from the former Sergeant Bloku and left everything else.

  Kat figured they could simply raid food and other supplies from the storage lockers on their way back out if they needed it. It hadn’t taken Krista long to decide that it’d be best not to be in the camp when the others returned.

  They’d left the camp, and Bloku’s body right in the middle where he’d fallen, as they’d found it. No point in hiding the body when his absence would be just as noticed and they didn’t have the time to waste covering up the remains. Krista took to leading them from that point and guided them away in the direction of Valentine. They’d not encountered a zombie for nearly a day, which led to the conclusion that Valentine hadn’t fallen and the raiders that Bonnibel Actual had radioed about were still driving a horde against the defenses.

  The thought twisted Kat’s stomach into a knot that would make a contortionist envious. Her home hadn’t lasted three days, the length of a patrol. The Army asshats who’d hit them had slammed hard enough to knock through their defenses in a day. She coul
dn’t think of a reason for the added aggression outside of what Percival’d done to them first.

  Perhaps they were following ‘an eye for an eye’ or some other such bull. She shook her head slightly at the thought. It couldn’t be the missing computer that Percival’d swiped. There couldn’t be anything so important on it to justify murdering entire communities. Being in the middle of the pack afforded her a touch more leeway to let her mind drift slightly.

  The forest thinned as they climbed a hill. Krista came to a stop as they neared the crest. She looked downhill and thought she could see the outline of a building or two. The forest had thinned, but not to the point of truly having a clear line of sight for any meaningful distance. If she had to guess, it was Valentine that she was seeing in the distance.

  “Radio, Katherine.” Krista jerked her head toward the closest tree. “We’re going to see if we can touch base with Lieutenant Bradshaw and those at the Ranger Station. If you can, vaguely let them know we’re in position and ask for a—“

  “Sitrep from Bonnibel Actual. We’re wasting daylight, Ma’am,” Kat interrupted Krista. “Would you have an idea of what frequencies to check for our opposition’s transmissions?”

  Krista rattled off a few frequencies. “If you do hear something, you’re to remain quiet.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Kat shed her rifles and backpack; everything but the bulky radio.

  Percival turned and put his back against the tree that Krista indicated and laced his fingers together. “Come on then. I’ll give you a boost.”

  “You’re being stupid again. And I’m not going to fix your stitches for being stupid. Samuel, help a lady?”

  Samuel nodded and took Percival’s place. Kat wasted no time climbing into his hands and up him into the tree. She pulled herself onto the lowest branch, straddled it, and shed her paintball mask. She hooked it to her belt, looked up into the nearly bare tree and plotted a way toward the top.

  A few minutes of climbing later and she’d ascended to nearly the top of the tree, but couldn’t go any higher as the branches thinned to a point that they’d not likely bear even her small frame. She closed in on the trunk of the tree, nestled herself into the crook of limb and trunk and pulled the radio into her lap.

  She pulled the headphones on, enjoyed the sway of the tree in a brief, cold wind, and clicked the radio on. A burst of static announced that power coursed through the piece of equipment. She checked her watch, dialed through frequencies until she got to the one the Ranger Station should be on and listened for a moment.

  Static was all that spoke into her ear. She listened to the white noise for a minute before she depressed the call button on the radio and cupped her hand around the mic on her headset.

  “Wandering Rats calling Pied Piper. Anyone in the nest? Over.” Kat released the call button and closed her eyes and waited. She listened to the static on the airwaves for what she thought was a minute, checked her watch to confirm, and pressed the call button once more. “Wandering Rats calling Pied Piper, touchback Pied Piper if you hear us. Over.”

  She waited through another few minutes of static before she checked her watch and double checked the frequency she’d set the radio to. It matched up to the timetable that Gavin had provided them. Either they were out of range or no one was on the other end for any number of reasons.

  Kat closed her eyes once more and pressed the call button. “Wandering Rats to Pied Piper. Not much time here. Have to depart shortly for the local nest. Everyone safe and sound here. Anyone picking up? Comeback, over.”

  Another few minutes of static left Kat more than certain that the line was going to remain dead. She let out a sigh and dialed the frequency over to Bonnibel Actual. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm her nerves. She didn’t truly want to talk with strangers. “Bonnibel Actual, this is Wandering Rats, do you read? Over.”

  Static answered her call. She waited as a minute dragged by. After thirty seconds had painfully slowly pulled its corpse along the ground, Kat depressed the call button once more. “Wandering Rats to Bonnibel Actual, if you’re out there, we’re here to help. Over.”

  Kat closed her eyes and counted the pops in the static to mark the passage of time. At a count of 200 she started to depress the call button once more. A sharp burst of static stopped her.

  “Wandering Rats? This is Bonnibel Actual.”

  Chapter 21

  Kat dropped back down to the ground. She sank to absorb the impact. Three heads turned toward her. She imagined the faces behind the masks were laced with curiosity and concern. Except for Krista, her face would be a placid lake of professionalism. Percival stood facing away from the tree, Bloku’s M16 in his hands.

  “No word from the Ranger Station. Got nothin’ but static.” She pulled her paintball mask back on. “Did raise Bonnibel Actual, though. They’ve suffered casualties, but are holding out for now. They’re low on potable water and rationing their food. They reported that they haven’t been shot at for a few days, but that the dead around them prevent any sort of escape from their compound.”

  “Did they specify where they are?” Krista asked.

  “They gave me a building and an intersection. Said it wouldn’t be hard to spot them. Only building with a sea of undead around it.” Kat stretched her arms and accepted her rifles back from Judith. “They’re hard up and not sure how much longer their defenses will hold out, to be honest. Time is not on our side.”

  “Their words?” Samuel asked.

  Krista’s helmeted head swung toward the young man before pivoting back to face Kat. “Valid question.”

  “Speculation on my part. Not a jumping the gun on pursuing my vendetta against the jackholes who smashed my home. Dwindling supplies and a super tired voice on the other side of the radio? It doesn’t take much to put two and two together and get five.” Kat slung Gloria onto her back and cradled her .22. “We’re burning daylight right now, and I have my doubts about being able to meaningfully help them today.”

  Krista shook her head. “No, you’re right. As much as I would like to apprehend those responsible for all that’s been going on here in Valentine, it’ll have to wait until light tomorrow. We’re simply not equipped for night operations.”

  “Could go back to the camp and wait for them. Get the drop on the assholes when they come home.” Percival’s voice held an ice-knife’s edge to it; a razor’s edge of rage.

  “If they come home. They may have left Sergeant Bloku to hold the fort, expecting it to be safe and secure. With a ‘Who in their right mind would attack us out here?’ mentality. Especially with all the zombies in the region down in the town.” Krista looked over her shoulder and down the hill in the direction of Valentine. “No, it’s an hour’s hike in the wrong direction. And there’s no guarantee that they won’t spread out and canvas the area before coming back down into camp. I know I would scout my spot before returning. Got to assume they’d do the same.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Kat looked at the back of Krista’s head.

  “We move down the hill, find a suitable spot to break camp, and begin our search and sifting of the town tomorrow.”

  *

  Kat didn’t like her position. It felt awkward and exposed to her. The paved street in front of her had plenty of vehicles remaining on it for cover, but she huddled in an alcove where she could see Krista across the street. Sure the alcove provided cover as well, but… she felt terrifically exposed. She felt like she had eyes on her every move and just waited for the bullet to shatter her body, the same as hers had Bloku’s.

  She’d expected to dream of the soldier, relive his last moment as she squeezed the trigger, but she hadn’t. Cooper’d come unbidden to her dreams, caressed her naked form with surprisingly gentle hands that had, nonetheless, left her feeling despicable. She shook the images out of her mind and refocused her attention on the situation.

  They’d opted to divide and conquer the town. Krista took Kat and sent Judith, Percival, and Samu
el on their own.

  The loose plan had been to sweep down a couple streets, find good firing positions if it came down to a firefight, and locate 5th and Haney; Bonnibel Actual’s position.

  Kat and Krista had a secondary goal of finding a good position for Kat to lay down suppressive sniper fire from. She’d be alone, but ideally behind a locked door and well hidden. It was the sort of situation she’d prefer if she had to be honest with herself. She wouldn’t have to direct anyone. She could be the distant, protecting angel. She’d discovered that she could shoot someone else to protect her friends and had every intention of capitalizing on that aspect of herself.

  There hadn’t been much she could do to protect her home when it was attacked, even if she’d been around, but she could rectify that here and now.

  Kat swept her gaze along the street back the way they’d come and brought her focus back to Krista. The other woman swept her hand through the air in the gesture for Kat to move forward. Kat nodded and brought her .22 up to her shoulder.

  She held her breath for a moment before she swept around the corner of her alcove and onto the sidewalk. She moved in a low crouch down the street and to a car. Her gaze bounced between windows, doors, empty cars and vacant streets.

  She paused. Valentine was just like so many other medium-small towns she’d trekked through. Decorative streetlights topped every intersection. The buildings were mostly two stories, with the occasional three, and constructed of concrete, though the base floor of some bore a brick or wood façade. The ones with windows had been knocked in or shot out and corpses still littered the ground at almost regular intervals. It was as though the people of Valentine had fought in retreat, falling back to established lines as the horde moved through.

  Kat couldn’t confirm, as she gave the bodies a wide berth (no reason to tempt fate with a dormant crawler), but she felt pretty certain that some of the corpses had been trampled into the asphalt below.