Anno Zombus Year 1 (Book 9): September

by Dave Rowlands

  noon

  Lunch tasted like cardboard. Probably something to do with my new command. There's not really a whole lot I can do about it, though. Still, they're not bad people. Viking sat down across from me clad in his own uniform bearing nothing but his name and rank insignia. Jokingly, I told him that he should really salute before just assuming I wanted a lowly Corporal sitting with me. His salute was unconventional, not remotely a traditional military salute at all. Rather, he lifted one cheek off of his seat, and let loose a great trumpeting fart. “Permission to tell you to fuck yourself, Sir?” He grinned. “You're looking at your new right hand man, mate. When The Boss told me I'd be working for your team I figured you'd need someone you can trust watching your back. Your sword and my hammer, just like old times, yeah?”

  “Like Canberra?” I pointed out. He looked concerned for a brief moment, before pointing out that Apocalypse Girl's mother is not remotely as insane as General Fuckwit had been, and even if she were, The Colonel was here too and she takes no shit from no body. My blonde giant friend was right, no doubt. Apocalypse Girl added that, although her mum was a bit of a bitch sometimes, she's got a good head on her shoulders and has been running outfits like these for the last twenty years or more. If anybody knew what she was doing, it was The Boss.

  We finished up with our meal, then headed to the briefing room to meet the rest of the troops. Apocalypse Girl walked with us as far as the door, then kissed me and left without a word. Viking shrugged then opened the door for me.

  Five people stood in the room, Apocalypse Mum and four others. The four turned as Viking and I walked through the door. One was horrifically disfigured, a scar running from his jaw all the way up the right side of his face to gouge into the greying stubble on his head. Either the grimace on his face was permanent or he was one of those that believed I needed to be castrated for knocking up The Boss's daughter.

  Next to Scar was the tallest woman I had ever seen, taller even than Viking. Giant had a pretty face and a nice smile, if anyone actually dared to look up that high. Then, there was a comparatively short guy, bulging with muscle. He looked like a pile of bricks stuffed into a sock. Giant and Wall both grinned in welcome.

  The fourth was a big Maori bloke, nearly as tall as Giant, almost as wide as Wall. The pitted, crater-laced crags that were his face split revealing a cavernous mouth that had more teeth knocked out than were still in place as he welcomed me. Apocalypse Mum, The Boss herself, introduced Viking and I, though the entire base knew about us by now, being new arrivals and all.

  I could feel disdain oozing from my new troops. Giant simply did not care one way or another about me. She'd still protect me against the Dead, because I am still human and Living, and it is her job to do so, but she'd not give two hoots if I bit the biscuit. Scar, it seemed, wanted me dead. Wall and Maori seemed marginally more friendly than the other two, but it was hard to say.

  Apocalypse Mum, sensing tension in the room already, began the briefing. We were to fly out to a nearby town and see if there was anyone there. Dead were, naturally, to be wiped out with extreme prejudice, as were any mutants. Orders for the Living, on the other hand, were quite different. Bandits were to be dealt with severely, but non-hostile survivors were to be screened and anybody that might be useful to the AR-18 facility should be extended an invitation to join us. She stressed that it was to be an invitation not a conscription.

  Any military personnel, however, should be ordered to report overland to Uluru, where they would be met by The Colonel, who would bring them into her organisation first. Not just anyone is fit for The Boss's little group, it seemed. The helicopter would take us there, drop us off and return for us the following evening. If we require more time, all we need do is radio home.

  Following the briefing, it was up to the hangars, then off to our destination. I didn't even have a chance to see Apocalypse Girl again before leaving.

  mid-afternoon

  A small town in the grey wasteland that was once a vibrant red with a smattering of green, it seemed abandoned at first. The chopper flew away almost before it landed to drop the six of us off, not going south back to AR-18, instead heading to the north-east. Giant told me that the chopper pilots are always making regular rounds, picking up this group here, dropping that group there. Searching for possible surviving groups everywhere. The third seemed more often, of late. The winter had slowed the Dead down, but with the rising numbers of mutants and the much warmer, clearer weather, even Apocalypse Mum's elite troops were still occasionally losing engagements.

  Maori pointed at a shambling corpse that was making its lonely way up the main street of the town, just about to raise his gun to fire when Viking stopped him. “We don't want to scare off any survivors, and we don't want to draw too many of these fuckers at once.” The mountainous landscape of Maori's face furrowed its forest of a mono-brow. A second later, he slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his knife. A brief moment after that, the corpse had ceased its shambling, and Maori removed his blade from its head.

  I ordered Scar and Wall to circle around the town, let off a flare if they see any large groups of the Dead. Moments later they returned. Each had found a couple of corpses and bashed their heads in to be certain, but there was no sign of any large numbers of Dead around.

  So, we began our house-to-house search. Many of them contained just one or two Dead, most of which had been trapped in a room inside and a warning written on the wall near the door.

  Eventually we came to the church in the centre of town. Carefully, quietly, I snuck up to the double doors at the front. From within, I could hear quite a heated argument. Someone had noticed our chopper, and they were none too happy to see any sign of the military. To be honest, I am not entirely sure I blame them, except that I am one of them now. At least technically. So, I knocked on the door.

  “Ahhh... who... who's there?” A timid voice came from inside.

  “Open up and see!” Viking shouted back. “We've taken out all the Dead in town, so it's safe to come out...” He waited to see if that had any effect. “Look, mate, we've got our orders. We have to at least check you guys out. If you're all healthy you'll be fine and if anyone in there is bit, we can take care of that too.”

  “Thanks, but we really don’t need anything from you.” Another, more authoritative voice replied. “Just go back to where you came from and leave us be, please.” It really didn’t sound much like a request. Maori looked at me questioningly. I could feel Giant’s eyes on me as well. They wanted to see how their new Lieutenant was going to handle this situation.

  “You might not, but we need to see for ourselves. Look, if you open up we can get this over and done within a couple of minutes. If not, well, we have our orders.” I called out through the heavy wood of the church door. The response was slow in coming. The sounds of hushed debate emanated from within.

  “We’re only prepared to let one of you in. The rest stay outside. But, to be fair, you can have one of our guys as a hostage.” The door opened a crack. A grimy face behind a Catholic collar peeked through. As I was about to step through the door, Viking grabbed hold of my arm. Shaking his head, he told me that he would go inside. I was too important. The priest came out, shaking in terror, as Viking stalked past him with a grin. The door shut behind him.

  “So, did you live here, you know, before?” Giant asked the priest. He seemed terrified of the woman.

  “Chill out, mate, it’s all going to be alright,” Maori told him. This seemed to exacerbate the poor fellow’s condition. I motioned for the rest of the group to move back and give him some room as he fell to the ground in a cowering heap.

  Kneeling down beside the priest, I repeated Giant’s question. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Asking if there was anything that we might need to know, anybody bitten inside the church, whether the people in charge were alright, what sorts of weaponry they might have, he replied to each question in the same fearful tone. No, nobody had been bitten since t
he early days, when they locked all of the first victims up in their own homes. When the winter hit, they all moved into the church for warmth and proximity to others.

  He told us that he, himself, was one of the town’s leaders. Another used to be a local policeman, the third was a teacher at the local high school. They had no weapons to speak of, other than makeshift cudgels for the Dead. I asked him what he was so afraid of, he refused to speak further. A minute later, Viking threw open the door of the church and sauntered out. The priest receded back into the darkness.

  “Right. These folks here are alright, but they’ve got some issues with some local bandits. They call themselves The Righteous, apparently. Religious loonies, according to the guy in charge,” came the report. “So, these Righteous are holed up somewhere to the east of here, maybe half a day away on foot. I couldn’t get the exact location from the guy, not that it really matters, they move around a lot.”

  Viking continued his report. “So, this guy, used to be a copper in this place, apparently, runs this town with a teacher and that priest dude, and they’re trying to make peace with these Righteous fuckers, because they’re always coming into town and shooting up the place while shouting out the usual religious bullshit about the end of the world. No real damage done, other than someone copping a stray bullet one time, and usually they clear off after someone comes out of the church to yell at them. This time, they took the teacher hostage.”

  “Let me guess,” Scar began. “They want us to find their lost little lambling, yes?” The first words out of his mouth were thick with a heavy German accent. It seemed as if his grimace was indeed permanent. “And then they’re going to snub our offer of shelter, too, I bet.”

  “I didn’t promise them anything, if that’s what you’re asking me. This teacher lady was nabbed about a week ago, according to the guy I talked to. In my experience, she’s probably dead by now, or worse.” The entire squad nodded their agreement with his statement. “In any case, I gave them our offer. You’re right, mate, they don’t want anything to do with us. Even if we somehow manage to rescue their friend. Not that we have any ideas where to even start looking.”

  “We’ve heard of these religious fanatics before,” Wall pursed his heavily muscled lips, deep in heavily muscled thought. “But we haven’t got any solid leads on a location yet. All we know is ‘somewhere to the east’ because that’s all we’re ever told.”

  Giant spoke, thoughtfully. “Look, we’re out here for the next twenty-four hours, give or take, right?” We all agreed that it was so. “We may as well head out and have a look for ourselves. Either we’ll find some signs of these Righteous, or we won’t. Up to you, of course, Chief.” She nodded to me, respectfully.

  She was right. I knocked once again on the door of the church, which the priest opened yet again. I explained to him that we were scouting out the location of the Righteous camp. A flash of hope screamed across his face at the speed of light before disappearing behind the furrowed brow of his fear once again. Nodding his understanding, he slammed the door on us once again.

  evening

  There were signs of local raiders everywhere. Empty beer cans and broken bottles littered the landscape, spent shells scattered here and there. Rotting corpses, with various injuries to their heads, some with comparatively fresh looking bite wounds. Eventually we came to a plateau, accessible only from a narrow ledge. The Righteous had clearly been making use of this as a campsite, though it seemed a while since anyone had been there. There was an almost perfect place to park a large number of small vehicles at the bottom of the ledge that wound its way up and around to the plateau. Up top, a fire pit and considerably large windbreak stood testament to the regular use of this location.

  “This seems as good a location as any to spend the night,” Viking suggested. It was indeed a brilliant camping spot, and the Righteous had thoughtfully stacked a large quantity of fire wood by the windbreak. “As long as we keep watch for Dead and nutters, we should be fine.”

  Maori handed out our dinner, yummy military field rations. I had hoped that I was done with such fare after Canberra, but it seemed I was mistaken. At least, when heated through thoroughly, the taste was bearable. An army, it has been said, marches on its stomach. Unfortunately, that was quite true. I really would have preferred that they march on their tastebuds. At least this army.

  “If only we had a Meat-Beast handy,” Viking mused. I was nodding my agreement when Wall mentioned that they eradicated them whenever they came across one. “That’s fucking crazy man! They’re fucking good eating, they are, plus they regenerate. And the Dead stay well away from them, too. You can live off a Meat-Beast for months in the middle of the world’s biggest horde, long as you’ve got water and fire to cook it up.”

  September 4th Year 1 A.Z.

  morning

  The sun peeled my eyelids apart, burning into my retinas as I awoke. More military rations for breakfast, though we had coffee at least. That was something. Viking took his duties seriously as my second, it seemed, barking unnecessary orders to the others. For the most part, they took it in good humour, Giant saying that it was always good having a newbie to laugh at, thinking they don’t know their jobs. Only Scar seemed unamused.

  We had only just finished packing up our shit when what sounded nothing so much as a lawnmower entered audible range. It was followed by another, then a third. Scar jumped up, following the sounds with his eyes, one hand clapped over his brow to shade his gaze from the sun as he looked to the east.

  “I can see three vehicles, it looks like motorbikes with a sidecar,” He began. “Perhaps two, maybe three people per vehicle. Hard to say, they are still very far away and the sun is at their backs currently. They are, however, definitely heading in this direction.”

  I told everyone to hide behind the windbreak, out of sight. When they arrive at the campsite, we should easily be able to get the jump on them. Viking and Giant both clearly approved of this idea, though Maori and Wall preferred the idea of a stand-up fight than an ambush. Scar wisely pointed out that our mission was far more important than ‘playing nice with religious zealots and bandits’ and that ‘we would be better off eradicating their sort completely from the Earth’ to ‘make room for people that actually want to just get along, for a change, without all the bullshit about control.’

  By keeping an eye and an ear out we were well able to monitor their approach. From our elevated position we could see everything, there were six men heading this way. They parked their vehicles at the base of the ledge, one complaining loudly about the long, steep climb up to the plateau.

  noon

  The six of us kept very quiet, very still, as we listened to them converse. Much of the conversation revolved around certain sexual acts that they had engaged in with various women before the world ended, a little about this group or that, encounters with other survivors, many of whom had clearly come off second best, or not at all, upon meeting members of The Righteous. Giant, closer to me than anyone else, fumed. I could tell that she wanted nothing more than to tear them limb from limb. Fortunately, the group moved off after a couple of hours and we were able to move freely once again.

  “Man, I hate that shit,” Giant grumbled, working the stiffness out of her neck muscles. “Vastly prefer to be killing fuckers like that rather than listening to their bullshit. As a general rule, you can tell if someone’s worth knowing by what they talk about amongst themselves.” Personally, I couldn’t help but agree. In the two hours that they were meant to be ‘scouting’ for their leadership, they drank and smoked more than I used to on a three day weekend.

  Still, at the least, we were well able to follow their tracks, ascertaining that they were based a few hours to the northeast of our current position. With several other groups of scouts out and about, The Boss should be able to work out where they kept their camp. Deciding that we were done for the day, I ordered everyone back to town.

  evening

  There was a small group of
Dead that caught our scent that we had to force our way through on the way back, nothing too concerning. Scar charged headlong into them, scattering the mob, Giant and Maori mere seconds behind. The trio pulled large survival knives from their belts, stabbing them again and again into the skulls of the rampaging Dead. The entire horde, perhaps twenty or more, were all on the ground, remains of their brains leaking from their devastated heads, before the rest of us got anywhere near.

  Wiping their blades clean, the three of them watched as Viking and Wall dragged the corpses off two by two and dumped them in a hastily dug pit. They had been burning the carcasses until now, but a few words to Apocalypse Mum about my theory of cremated Dead causing some or most of the environmental damage we have been seeing prompted a change of standing orders regarding disposal of the Dead.

  Once we made it back to town, Giant radioed that we were good for pickup, a few moments later we saw one of The Boss’s choppers almost silently gliding down out of the sky, barely two minutes after that we were airborne once more. A short while later I could see Uluru appear in the distance, growing closer and closer with each passing second. My excitement grew, I would soon see Apocalypse Girl once more. It seemed almost forever since I had last seen her, though in reality it was barely two days. Knowing that I had a two day on, four days off rotation was small comfort, but small comfort is better than none at all.