“That’s so sad,” Heather says. “One minute he was loving life, had everything he wanted, and then it was all gone.”
5
Every outpost that surrounds Rubicon is equipped with enough supplies for the volunteers manning it to remain as long as they wish. Many people choose this detail, opting for the quiet serenity. While unpacking, Abby discovered Brass has added a few supplies of his own. The fridge is full, as are the cabinets, but on the counter is a bottle of champagne in a tub of ice with two long stemmed glasses. The lights work but the place is lit with candles. Brass even turned on some soft music to enhance the romantic mood he planned for the two.
Such a child, Abby thinks. He shakes his head, knowing that he’s bound to find a box of condoms somewhere.
The tour doesn’t take long. Abby shows Vida the new staircase of plain wood and the best positions in the house for sniping. It concludes with a demonstration of the surveillance system, which consists of a few televisions in the dining room that are connected to an array of cameras they can cycle through.
“Heat signatures can be misleading,” Abby explains the infrared, after toggling the cameras to a view that reminds Vida of the movie Predator. “Just because something reads warm doesn’t mean it’s alive.”
“I thought you said the ‘Smurfs’ were zombies?”
“They are, and that’s what a lot of our regulars call figures that give off a temperature reading that’s a little above or below ambient. But when a person dies their body cools then warms up again. The rotting process releases energy and they can appear human. Just look for the clues.”
Abby searches the fields and roads for an example. “See this one? Tell me if it’s dead or alive.”
Vida looks at the screen where a figure walks along the road just beyond the gate. It’s a blob of reds and pinks among a blocky field of swirling hues. The subject strides lazily along, its arms straight down at its sides. The rigid gait could be a sign of fatigue, however she notices a clue. “Dead. Living people are more twitchy. We fold our arms, scratch our heads, we never seem to know what to do with our hands. A person walking alone, no matter how tired, would also be looking out for danger.”
“Very good,” Abby says. “We can set our monitors to pick up motion. That way no one has to stare at them all day and night. If something moves out there, it’ll pop on screen and let us know.”
Vida shifts, uncomfortable in her armor. “Do people wear this stuff the whole time they’re out here?”
“No, you can remove as much of it as you want.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. Vida knew from Lady Luck that folks can wear as much or as little protection as they choose. Since the outpost was deemed safe, she opted against the rubber cowl and helmet, yet brought them just in case, along with her fat roll of duct tape. What she wants to get out of most are her heavy boots that have been rubbing her feet raw since she first started wearing them. The moleskin helps relieve her old blisters, but fresh ones bloom.
Abby isn’t wearing much in the way of armor. Just black fatigues, since the place is zombie-proof. The only threat they fear is the living variety, and bulletproof vests and Kevlar helmets are available should they be needed.
While Vida struggles to unclip her chainmaille, Abby watches and contemplates Brass’s plea. In the amber glow of the flickering candles, he realizes just how beautiful Vida is. “Do you want help with that?” he asks, suddenly very nervous.
“Nope.” She laughs as she reaches behind herself to unfasten the last clips that hold her metal mesh top to the matching pants. “I have a system.”
Vida looks up to the ceiling as she concentrates on feeling for the fasteners, and he finds it absolutely adorable. She dresses down her armor before him, removing her shirt blouse and maille to reveal a white t-shirt with faded bloodstains that reads: I Zurvived the Zombie House.
“The metal is always too cold. I had to wear this underneath my first day,” she explains. “Lady Luck said some people put theirs in the oven to warm them up, but I forgot to do that. Now it’s become superstition, I guess. It gives me strength.”
He knows the significance of the shirt. It was where her boyfriend died the night this all started. The reminder of her lost love is her security blanket. Abby feels foolish for letting Brass finally get to him. He is angry at the man for trying to mettle and only giving him heartache. He can’t compete with the ghost of a guy that sacrificed himself for her, and he won’t even try.
“Is there a Mrs. Abby?” Vida asks, then chuckles at how her question sounds. “Do you have a girlfriend back at camp?”
“No.” He returns his attention to the monitors. “I’ve decided to wait until life is better.”
“We have it pretty sweet in Ruby,” Vida says. “No sense waiting when things may be as good as they’ll ever get. Everybody needs companionship, right?”
“That’s what Brass keeps telling me.”
“He’s right. I’ve been getting it from Lady Luck. The sentiment, not companionship. It’s funny how all it takes is for someone to point you in the right direction before you finally take that first step.”
Abby looks up and meets Vida’s gorgeous brown eyes. Brass and Lady Luck have been working this from both angles, gently pushing them towards each other. All it took was one last shove.
6
A crowd forms at the gates of Story Book Land in the early morning hours. Folks from the lost town of New Castle wish to see their friends off. The mood is somber despite the warming sun that lights the brilliantly colored theme park. Only a select few are privy to the exact details of the mission, but everyone worries for the safe return of those departing.
An air of concern has been circulating among the survivors over the past couple of weeks. They’ve noticed a reduction in the patrols that would come and go to localized areas beyond the walls. Civilian volunteers have been limited to those that exit by way of the private beach to fish, and have been forbidden to step foot on the shores outside the walls.
Zero eight hundred hours has already passed. Brock Rottom and two soldiers in plain clothes wait near a yellow Hummer for the rest of their party. Oz and Carla are still at the armory, which was once one of the park’s many gift shops.
“Nooo,” Carla says with irritation as she hands an unsatisfactory assault rifle back to a soldier behind the window. “I don’t want an AK-47. I want my AK-47. There’s a chip on the butt from when I used it to crack walnuts.”
Oz smirks at his girlfriend’s honesty. He had an equally difficult time acquiring his SAW. Carla had given it to him, complete with a personalized engraving. He’d be damned if he didn’t get it.
Another assault rifle is brought out for the discerning Carla, who inspects the stock. “There you are, baby,” she coos to the Kalashnikov she is accustomed to, and had customized. Using a kit back in New Castle, she converted it to full-auto. “Mama’s here.”
She and Oz are ready as soon as they sign out the weapons and ammo, along with a few other items. They head to the designated departure zone and whatever this mission holds for them. From the heart of the amassed people there to bid the team good luck, Dan Williamson emerges.
Though Jack is old enough to walk himself, Dan and Heather have decided to use a dual stroller. The boy is very adventurous and has a tendency to run off, so in the excitement they fear losing him. Vincent is shaping up to be just as willful. The younger of the two may not be as sure footed yet, but he mimics whatever his big brother does.
Dan guides his family, walking with a slight limp from the slip-on prosthetic he wears on his left foot. He is supposed to be getting his blood taken but figures it can wait until after. He and his wife want to have a private farewell with their extended family.
“Are you guys ready for this?” he asks.
“Absolutely!” Carla says. “I’ve been wanting to get out for a while now.”
“We’ve only been here three months.” Oz chuckles.
“Yeah, but
once you’ve been on all the rides, and have seen all there is to see, you just want to go home. Of course, since this place is home now…”
“I see you have some unexpected tag-alongs,” Dan refers to the soldiers that will be accompanying them. “They’ll blend right in.”
“I saw them put ankle holsters on,” Oz says. “Not exactly useful when on the run from the dead.”
“Oz thinks they’ve been ordered to kill Brass if he doesn’t submit. Take over and get the people here.”
“If they want this bad enough to send you guys out, I wouldn’t doubt it one bit,” Dan agrees.
“Uh-oh,” Heather says when she notices three men in fatigues heading their way. So much for a private send off. “I think they want to know what the hold-up is.”
“Mister Williamson,” one of the soldiers says to Dan. “I believe you have an appointment at the lab, don’t you?”
Dan gives a sigh of frustration. “I’m heading there after I see my friends off.”
“As you wish, sir,” the soldier says, yet he and his two partners linger.
He wonders if they actually did schedule the blood draw to prevent him from stowing away and going out. All he can do is shrug it off. “Duty calls us all, I guess.”
Hugs and handshakes are exchanged. Oz is reminded of his many kids as he looks down at the Williamson boys. He’s happy he said his goodbyes to them last night, because he’d hate to have folks see him tear up.
“We’ll be back soon, with all the survivors,” Carla promises as she hugs Heather.
“Just make sure you make it back.”
As soon as the members of the mission are loaded up and cruising out the gates, the soldiers lose interest in Dan. One remains behind to politely cough, reminding him he has somewhere to be.
“Honey, I’ll catch up with you later,” he tells his wife before a quick kiss. “I have to go lose some of my precious blood.”
7
Morning arrives for the stranded pair in Harrington, however Brass has not. Abby and Vida tested their defenses and hadn’t encountered a single threat, not from the living or the dead, or even from each other. With only one another to wile away the hours until dawn, they talked.
If they had only met in a world that wasn’t built on shaky ground they could have lost themselves in the moment. After Abby had realized he could risk falling in love, they nearly gave in. It was Vida who stopped them from continuing past their first kiss. She lost Brandon and everyone else she ever loved, and she isn’t ready to put her heart in someone’s hands only to have them die holding it. It’ll take time, and Abby let her know it’s all right. They can take it slow.
“What’s taking so long?” Abby says. He has been going back and forth between the windows and the monitors. He radioed the next post, but they haven’t spotted Brass heading through yet.
Awkward silence is never a good sign in any blossoming relationship.
“There he is,” Vida says.
The black Riviera speeds across the monitors observing the roads. On his heels are the voluntary watch standers that will be assuming the post.
“I’ll get the gate if you want to make sure we have everything.” Abby places his hand on the small of Vida’s back on his way out and it feels comfortable to them both.
“Abby, how are we this morning?” Brass asks, after negotiating the K-rail blockades that sandwich the entrance with a figure eight. He doesn’t ask for details, or even bring up his scheme.
“You know me,” Abby says. “Living life, being awesome.”
###
“Now? Can we switch seats now?”
“No, Brock!” Carla snaps at the clown who squeezes himself between the two front seats. They aren’t even out of Florida yet and already he is annoying her.
Brock whispers with urgency, “These guys are creeping me out! I swear the one on the right never blinks.”
“They’re just a little stiff.” She tries to put him at ease.
“He has a point,” Oz admits. “Guys, you’re supposed to fit in, right?”
“Those sticks up your asses are a dead giveaway,” Carla says. “Try to look more--”
“Human,” the clown says. “Try smiling.”
Brock Rottom gets nowhere when he demonstrates the act. He exaggerates his facial expression so much his red ball-nose pops off. The momentary embarrassment gets a slight chuckle out of the robotic men. Just enough emotion for Brock to see they aren’t displaying great military bearing, they’re afraid. “You two haven’t spent much time outside, have you? You’re with good people. And think about it. If these folks decide to come back with us, we’ll be travelling with an entire army. Not that your army isn’t a good one.”
Oz slows down when he sees signs of life on the road: places boarded up from the inside, piles of trash accumulated under second story windows. They are about to have their first close encounter. “We’ve got company.”
A truck is parked across the road, barring passage and forcing the Hummer to stop. It also allows an old black sedan to catch up from behind to seal the trap. No aggressive moves are made by the vehicles. They just sit and wait.
###
“I have nothing against the Hummer, Abby,” Brass says. “I’m just saying I don’t like that bright yellow color! It’s almost as annoying as those tiny little debutante sports cars that men buy, though they are way too big for them. I wouldn’t even look right in one of those. The only guy that can pull off one of those is James Bond.” He realizes he’s ranting and stops himself before going on too long. He just needs to stall, buy time to put the intruders off guard.
On their way out of Harrington, their relief called them and the next closest post to report a trespasser. They halt their progress, but now they have to discern whether this invader poses a threat or not.
“I spy with my little eye, a big guy and a small female in the front seat,” Soul Train reports through his radio from the nearby post. “Looks like two more dudes in the back. Definitely military. Very stiff. Kinda look like yearbook photos of serial killers. There may be a third in the back as well, slumped over.”
###
“Where did it go?” Brock Rottom feels around the floor for his misplaced nose. “I can’t meet new people without my nose!”
“Brock, shhh,” Carla says.
“Do you want me to do the talking? I’m really good with people,” he asks, still searching. He reaches deep under the front seats in case it rolled there.
“I’ll do the talking,” Oz says, not actually answering Brock so much as letting Carla and the undercover soldiers know that he’ll make the first move.
“I found it!”
###
“Yeesh!” Soul Train says over the radio, after recovering from the initial shock of what just popped up inside the back of the Hummer. “The fifth one is creepy.”
Brass spies the strangers through binoculars. “This is great. Vida, you get a lesson in diplomacy. A delicate situation. We have no idea what these people want, or why they are here.”
He hands her his set of field glasses while Abby sits in the back, intently watching from between the headrests.
Brass continues, “We need to wait, make them uneasy, force them to make the first move. Then we can see--”
“Brock!” Vida says suddenly. She exits the car and leaves the specs on the seat.
“Does she know these clowns?” Abby asks, then he pushes the seat in front of him forward to exit the two-door car.
“At least one of them, it seems.”
###
“We have one coming from behind,” Carla says. She observes the approaching figure in her mirror. “Ooh, she’s pretty.”
“The others are getting out too,” Oz says.
Brock turns so his knees are on his seat and he can look out through the back window. One of the men approaching from the black car is a little person. “That’s why the major didn’t want me to use the ‘freak’ word. I would never say that! Us clowns and
the little people have a long history of friendship, dating as far back as--”
“Brock,” Carla says, “shut up.”
Oz rolls his window down to hear what the men on the girl’s heels are saying.
“Vida, stop!” the man of regular height warns.
“Everyone stay put,” Oz says as he exits the Hummer. Unarmed, he walks casually to meet the trio. He notices those in the truck aren’t getting out, and they probably have him in their cross hairs, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. “Are you Brass?”
The smaller man laughs. “You’re from Story Book Land. Only someone from there would come asking for me by name.”
“We didn’t expect to meet you so soon,” Oz says.
“We’ve been expanding. Just set up a new outpost in Harrington,” Brass explains. “It’s good that we met down here actually. It’ll save you the trip to Ruby. Please go home.”
“We’ve had developments of our own that may change your mind.” Oz subtly gestures to the back of his ride. “Can I show you something?”
In the back, among their supplies, ammo, and provisions, is a small computer loaded with a video file. As Oz gets it ready, the others exit the Hummer. After living behind thick, high walls for so long, they feel exposed. Though the steel hide of their transport is reassuring, Carla wishes she could aim her rifle, should the need arise.
Vida walks to the clown. “Do you remember me?”
Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory Page 22
