by Brown, TW
8
Vignettes LVII
“We follow what was once called Glenn Highway.” George pointed out the visible gash in the land where a highway once existed.
The harsh conditions and weather of Alaska had practically pulverized the road, but it would be a long time before nature could completely reclaim the land. Juan wondered what things might look like in another ten years.
George was one of the five Athna Athabaskans that would be escorting them on the first leg of their journey. They would pass through three different tribal lands on their excursion, and at each exchange they would receive a new escort. The various tribes knew where to cross the numerous streams, creeks, and rivers that sliced through the Alaskan wilderness.
A few members of the Athna Athabaskan had come to the settlement to offer up any last minute items that might need to be traded for, as well as to offer a few letters for possible delivery in Anchorage. While there had been no sign of any deaders around where Juan and his people lived, that did not meant they were not a possibility. And it was not the human version that Juan had to worry about as much as it was the wolves.
There were stories of packs of the deader wolves travelling in great numbers along the highway like it was a watering hole in the African Savanna. Considering it was probably the only place where they might encounter the wandering humans with any regularity, Juan supposed that it made sense.
At last, they were on the move. Juan still marveled at the idea of being on horseback. He glanced over at Mackenzie who was driving the wagon. She seemed a natural as she gave a gentle tug one way or the other to keep the team on the main trail.
By the time they stopped to make camp that night, Juan was sore, tired, and just a bit on edge. The excitement of the trip had turned up the knob of energy when it came to Della. She quickly grew weary of watching Rufus drift in and out just as Juan grew tired of hearing about it every single time the dog closed its eyes.
With the fires going and the perimeter trip wires set, everybody settled down to a dinner of venison stew and hard bread. Juan and Keith finished first and then went over to study the maps with George. They were making good time, but as of tomorrow, they would be in true wilderness country. There would be no known settlement or single living soul for the next few days. That meant that they would need to be at their most vigilant.
They were taking note of how many stream crossings they would likely be making tomorrow when a scream pierced the air. Juan knew immediately what the cause would be and had his belt knife in hand before he had taken two steps.
Sprinting to his wagon, he heard a raspy growl that made the hairs on his arms stand up. Why hadn’t he just taken care of this before they had left? He knew that Rufus would die any day now, and the large, shaggy animal had been bitten at least a dozen times over the years.
Della and Denita were both scrambling out of the wagon as Juan arrived. It was too dark to see if either had been nipped, but the two were huddled close; both were crying, but not in a way that led him to believe they might have been bitten by the dog.
Juan reached the tailgate of the wagon just as Rufus’ large head poked out. The smell was almost as jarring as the sight of seeing his dog join the ranks of the undead. With one swift move, he brought his knife up and under the dog’s chin. The blade only hung up for a second before plunging through and into the brain pan. Juan gave a twist and a jerk to ensure that he finished the big dog off.
Just that quick, it was over. He turned to the girls as Keith and George moved in to remove and dispose of the carcass. Mackenzie was already hugging them both. She met Juan’s gaze and her expression froze him. He could not bring himself to consider what her expression meant.
Instantly he intensified his visual examination of the girls. He saw no signs of a bite or scratch. And while there was not an abundance of light, they were close enough to the fire that he should have seen something if either of his daughters had been injured.
He returned his gaze to Mackenzie and saw the first tears drip from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. A sensation like being punched in the gut came on so sudden and strong that it dropped the big man to his knees.
“No.” It was only a single word. But Juan struggled to get it to slip past his lips. His mouth was so dry, and he was afraid that allowing anything past would make it easier for the roiling sickness in his belly to find an avenue of escape.
Mackenzie stood and stepped away from the girls as Keith and his wife Mercy came up at a run. They took in the scene, and then turned their attention to Juan. He saw the looks of pity and concern.
“Come with me, girls.” Mercy was the first to act as she stepped forward and took Denita and Della by the hand.
Once she was gone, Juan hurried to Mackenzie. Sure enough, there was a small rip on her left arm. In fact, it looked like little more than a nasty scratch. How could something so minor be the cause of his undoing, the end of the dream that his life had become.
***
As she watched the small boat come closer, Gemma shivered. Not from the cold, but from the memories. She could not recall when things had spiraled so out of control. Of course, she had no idea that humanity had slipped so far from its perch.
She and Chaaya were just exiting from a set of flats where they had been searching for food when the three men emerged from the shadows. They had huge swords in their hands and their belts were decorated with a variety of knives and axes. What they wanted was abundantly clear.
Chaaya shot a look in Gemma’s direction and the two women actually stepped forward, placing all they carried on the ground. Raising their hands in a sign of surrender, the pair allowed the men to paw and maul them. Gemma let her mind drift to a place only she could reach. In that place, Chaaya did not exist, the man atop her faded into nothing.
She went so deep into her mind that she had no idea how long Chaaya had been shaking her. She blinked and looked around. The men had moved over to the things they had been carrying. Some of it they were simply tossing aside when it did not strike any sort of interest.
Gemma sat up and the men warned her to stay put if she knew what was good for her. She simply pulled her clothes on and sat with her hands in her lap. One of the men stood up holding her pack in his hand and dumped all the contents on the ground. He laughed as the other two men hooted and cheered.
It was sudden and jarring when the laughter ceased. She looked up and saw one of the men peering closely at another. His mouth was open and he had his head tilted to one side. Pretty soon they were clustered together and each one checking the other.
At some point, one of the men spun on the two women. Unfortunately for them, they had become distracted and careless. Gemma and Chaaya had scooted away and ducked around the corner of the closest set of flats. As they ran, they could hear the men cursing and screaming. The threats came in a torrent.
The men did not know that the women were often less than fifty feet away at times as the pair stayed to watch their handiwork. That night, one of the men decided that he did not want to become one of the living dead. Gemma was less than twenty feet away when he blew his brains out.
The other two appeared to be made of stronger stuff. They fought it until the end. At last they reached a point where they collapsed and could no longer go on. They chose—whether by coincidence or on purpose, Gemma would never know—the exact same flat that they had been coming out of when the barbaric men had found them.
Gemma crept into the room the men had chosen as their death bed and stood inside the doorway for several minutes listening to the two sick individuals as they struggled for each rasping breath. Eventually, she entered the room. Walking up to the first bed, she looked down with her best smile.
She stood there the entire time while the man first condemned her to the pits of Hell, then begged for her to grant him one favor and kill him. Gemma was unmoved by either speech.
At some point, Chaaya left. Apparently she did not have the stomach for this sort of thing.
Gemma waited until the very end. When the first man began to shudder violently, an odd thrilling sensation rippled through her. She waited until he was still and then grabbed the huge sword that was beside his bed.
When the man’s eyes opened, Gemma brought the sword up and then plunged it down into the man’s chest, effectively pinning him to the bed. She then walked over to the other man who was unconscious but still alive. Once more she waited, but as she did so, she picked up another sword that reminded her briefly of the one that Harold used to carry.
Again she waited, and again she used the weapon to pin the man like a butterfly on a collector’s palette. Leaving the flat, Gemma entered the world to her new life. One where she would use herself as bait to lure men to their deaths.
At some point, she became known to survivors in the area as the Black Widow. She knew that Harold would have thought it to be really cool. She also knew that Vix would not have approved.
For years, Gemma was the zombie apocalypse’s version of Typhoid Mary, spreading her disease whenever and wherever she could manage. She stopped seeing the possibility of innocence. To her, all of humanity was guilty. At night, she drifted off to a tumultuous sleep plagued by nightmares of Harold’s final moments.
As the weeks turned to months that became years, her mind did her the “courtesy” of blanking out the despicable things that had been done to her by her captors. All she remembered was Harold. She remembered the violence of his death. She could no longer remember why she was doing what she did, but she felt vindicated and justified for some unknown reason.
She was wandering the ruins of a village when she came across the Irishman and three of her fellow countrymen. Only, one of them was a woman. The closer she got to the group, the more she recognized the woman.
She was still staring when the woman’s head popped up and she looked around, obviously feeling that she was being watched. Her eyes scanned like a hawk’s and came to a halt on Gemma.
Suddenly frightened, and no longer having the heart to do away with any of these people, Gemma turned and ran. She could hear Vix’s voice calling after her, but she only ran faster,
A few days later, Gemma ventured back to the same area. She had no reason beyond curiosity. She was surprised to discover a series of red ribbons tied to all manner of things. Each one had a note that read exactly the same:
Gemma,
I will return in two weeks. If you read this, please meet me. If nothing else, I just want to be able to talk to you in person.
Vix
***
Chad held a finger to his lips. He pointed to Ronni and then the new girl Melody Whittaker, then he hiked his thumb over his shoulder back toward where the cabin would be located.
Ronni’s face darkened a little, but she nodded in agreement. Chad then pointed to Caroline and then to a high hide they had mounted in a cluster of nearby pines that grew close together. That was actually a fallback spot for them in the event that a herd of zombies came through. The hide was stocked with plenty of food and water in large jugs that they had salvaged from the cabin campground down by the lake that these strangers were currently searching through.
Caroline gave a nod and then started her climb. Chad was glad that he had insisted on putting a bow along with over a thousand range arrows up there.
Once he was satisfied that everybody was where they should be, Chad began to move quietly down the hill. They were prepared for more than just zombies. Chad had already dealt with more than enough monsters of the living variety to not have a plan in place for just such an occasion.
Moving slowly, he could see an occasional figure weave through some of the heavy growth that would probably obscure that cabin campsite from the world forever within the next few years. Already, a lot of the small wooden structures were leaning or had already collapsed due to the regular deep and heavy snows coupled with absolutely no maintenance or upkeep.
A pair of individuals stepped out into a small clearing and Chad felt his lips press tight. He had mistakenly thought that this group of searchers was comprised of exclusively men. However, one of them had pulled her knit cap free to allow her blond hair to cascade down past her shoulders. He brought up his binoculars to confirm that it was not just a delicate featured male.
“Dammit,” he breathed.
And not only was it a female, but, if he was being honest with himself, she was quite attractive. She had a perfect oval face and a slightly upturned nose that was flawless in its small size and defined form.
“Well…can’t be helped,” he muttered as he moved over beside a small piece of twine that was tied off to a stake just under the cover of a group of ferns.
Pulling his knife from his belt, he took one last look down into the cabin area. Luck seemed to be on his side as three others joined the two he had just spied. If he and Caroline had been correct, that was all of them in this group.
He gave a flick of the wrist, severing the taut strand of twine. There was a moment’s pause, and then a tremendous clatter. He was able to bring up his binoculars just as the entire group rushed in the direction of the sound.
“Five…four…three…two…one.” Chad reached down and picked up the triggering device that was here as well. There was a loud “whump” and then a muffled explosion. Screams followed, and Chad popped up and scurried down the hill.
He could already smell the burning flesh through the acrid and bitter scent of burning wood. As he rounded the corner, he pulled up short. For just a moment, he felt a sense of horror and revulsion at what he had done. A single example of his handiwork was just a few yards away as if to pierce his conscience just a bit more.
A man was on his back, staring up at the clear blue sky. A piece of metal was jutting from his chest and his body was charred black and smoldering. He was missing most of the left arm.
Drawing his sword, Chad hurried over and drove the tip through the man’s lidless left eye socket. Knowing there was at least one other group, he knew he would have to act fast. He wove through the blast zone, until he found the main parts of the other four intruders. Main parts was the key since none of them had survived the blast without losing a limb or two.
Obviously the woman had been closest, because her body had been blown in half. Her upper torso was a good ten feet from her pelvis and left leg. The right leg was another several feet from the main part of the lower half.
A few years ago, Chad had come across a military convoy that had been what looked like victims of a roadblock ambush. It was impossible to tell what had happened, and perhaps the only reason they had found anything still useful was the fact that it was so far from anyplace, that looters had apparently just never stumbled across it.
There had been two metal cases. Inside had been twenty Claymore mines each. Chad had always kept them deployed whenever he and Ronni stayed someplace for any length of time.
When they had decided to call this new place home, he had made setting up perimeter traps his top priority, even over building their home. Besides acting as a nasty surprise should they have to deal with the living, they could also be used to distract or re-route a herd of zombies.
Chad had been thrilled to discover an intact propane tank. Unfortunately, he had no way to tap its resources for home use, but it had been a great place to attach a single Claymore. This had been his most elaborate trap. Inside the ruins of the cabin where the propane tank was located, he had nailed a sheet of tin on the floor a few inches off the ground. The twine he cut had allowed a bundle of river rocks to fall on the piece of tin. When the noise prompted whoever or whatever to check it out, he triggered the Claymore.
He had no idea how big the explosion would be—or if it would even work—but it seemed to have done the trick. He finished off running his sword through the head of each corpse just to be certain. He had just finished the last one when he heard shouts coming from back up the hill.
***
Jody crawled on his belly. Thankfully, clouds had come in overnight and co
mpletely blocked any ambient light from the moon. It had the added benefit of keeping it gloomy even as dawn was about to break.
The turrets were all set up the same. The ground was scorched earth for a good fifty yards all the way around. There was a deep trench in close that served as a moat, mostly for defense against zombies, and a metal fence with razor wire coils on top that circled around on both the inside and outside of the moat.
Some had said it was overkill, but those who chose to make these turrets their residence certainly appreciated the added layers of security when herds made their appearance. Living beings were also supposed to be easy to defend against. And that was the main reason for the scorched earth idea.
Reaching the edge of the overgrowth, Jody halted and scanned the area. Whoever these people were that had taken over the turret, they were not even using torches. The place was completely dark. He could still smell the stink of the bonfire that had been used to burn the bodies, but even that had gone to ash and was not even giving off the slightest curl of smoke.
There was a dark silhouette where the cage still hung suspended. Jody could not tell if there was anybody in it or not. He had to remind himself to take things one step at a time.
He rose to a crouch and then gave a low hooting noise to signal that he was ready and in position. One by one, he heard others do the same. When he heard the eleventh and final one, he started forward in a crouch-run. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the others moving with him.
They reached the outer wall that surrounded the moat. George pressed in and produced a set of heavy-duty bolt cutters. Like a hot knife through butter, the man sheared the chain that kept the door shut.
“Everybody ready?” Pitts whispered.
Jody glanced over to the left. They were closer now and he thought he could just make out a dark figure in the cage. There was no movement, but he was pretty sure that he could see what had to be a body.
