While her efforts were wasted, the missing group was eventually discovered, that is, parts of them. One of the Yellowstone scouts patrolling the no man’s land which spanned roughly three miles between the raiders and the line Captain Briggs had created called it in. The lieutenant grabbed me shortly thereafter, and we hiked to the spot.
“That’s horrible.” Mary turned a sickly shade of green.
The twins remained expressionless. They were the only ones.
“More than that,” I muttered. “What happened?”
“We don’t know,” admitted Lieutenant Gikas. “Our man found them like this, decapitated with the heads mounted on steel spikes.”
“They’re in a row,” added Mary.
“Each is exactly three feet, four inches from the next. We measured. I don’t know if this has any significance.”
“Not that,” she clarified. “I meant by size. The heads are biggest to smallest. Those poor little kids. God, see how they’re watching us.” Mary spun to the side and began vomiting.
“We noticed that as well,” continued the lieutenant. “With nine of them it had to be deliberate.”
“You have the most experience with the prophet,” began Briggs. “Any idea what he might be attempting to relay with this setup?”
“As far as I can tell, the spacing and order means nothing special, other than indicating they took their time. Being so close to our lines, the prophet could be trying to prove he can get at us anytime he wants.” I paused. “Or, the person who placed them here is obsessive compulsive in the extreme and was incapable of just sticking them in the ground. Actually, that might be more likely. There are a lot of mentally ill and outright psychotic people in that bunch.”
“They seized people in the south, got them all the way here without us seeing, along roads filled with zombies, and did this.” The captain was in a fury, but he kept his voice level.
“They likely went through the trees, either on foot – they had more than enough time to march here – or on their dirt bikes. I’m betting they were killed near the spot they were taken. We’ll find the bodies there. They never bothered burying or burning the corpses of those they killed before, so they were probably left where they fell.”
I tried to think of anything else that might be relevant. It was difficult with the endless clicking of teeth breaking the silence.
“Do we need to leave them up any longer?”
“No,” stated the captain, harshly.
“Dale, would you?”
He responded to my request by carefully plucking the zombified heads from the spikes and placing them on the ground. This was followed by the soft pop of a silenced .22. The twins generally carried such weapons should secrecy be desirable or necessary.
“How many know what happened?” I inquired.
“The scout told several others before reporting,” explained Lieutenant Gikas, “apparently couldn’t help himself. The news is everywhere.”
“This is going to cause trouble, lots. It’s been quiet for a couple years now. Plenty of worrying, no doubt, but nothing like this has happened since Wyoming and Utah fell. You might want to rethink Yellowstone’s security. I’d say no more people going off on their own at the very least.”
“A hunting party of nine is not going off alone.” The captain motioned at one of his men. “Take them back and see that they get a proper burial.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “Still, I bet they weren’t taking any special precautions, and why would they? The group was far from where the enemy is. They were within the park too, and all the entrances are being monitored.”
“You have to kill them.” Mary wiped her face with the back of one hand. “You find them, and you kill every last one.”
The captain’s eyes indicated he was in full agreement. It was hard not to be once you saw their handiwork with your own eyes.
“We will be moving soon, very soon. I want to ready the aircraft and make some modifications first. Three days at most.” He turned to me. “Jacob, get your people in place. See if you can check out the village southeast of you too. Give them any ideas or help you can. They are the only one within a few hours walk of the supply base and the one most likely to get hit if things fall apart. We’ve spoken with them at length, but this increases the threat.”
“Will do. Mary, get on the radio and tell Xavier to pick Lizzy up. I want her back immediately. The others can drive. I expect them before nightfall.”
“I should have gone on the offensive sooner,” admitted Captain Briggs. I was the only one standing close enough to hear the words. “Just so you know, a large part was due to the possibility of receiving help from the islands.”
“Any chance of that?” I asked.
It was an appealing notion, and I much preferred mopping the floor with the raiders than facing them in what might ultimately prove a costly affair.
He motioned for me to walk with him. Mary kept a distance, realizing this was not a conversation to be shared. The twins took up flanking positions.
“There’s been three more nuclear blasts, all in Asia. These hit Chinese cities, each with unusually large numbers of zombies. The warheads were carried by short range missiles.”
“The Chinese have some surviving military that’s trying to get rid of the dead? I find that hard to believe. Nuking your own territory seems like a really bad idea. Clearing a few hundred thousand, even a million or so, can’t be better than the radiation. The Swiss have been saying how much damage was caused by the reactors in France going critical. Wouldn’t this be worse?”
“How bad it is depends on quite a few factors. Either way, we don’t know if it was the Chinese or a third party. There have been attempts to communicate, but we’ve heard nothing so far.”
“What about the others?” I asked.
“Russia seems strong. The Japanese on Okinawa too. The Europeans are still relocating to Ireland, but they’ll be leaving a few outposts to keep an eye out. The Brits have recovered the last of their nuclear weapons. We think some are going with them, others might be deployed. They have aircraft that can deliver and several small destroyers that are still in operation, a single sub too. It’s hard to say. The diplomats are still talking, and I’m not in the loop on everything.”
“Israel?”
“Same as before. They are fortifying and manufacturing weapons as quickly as they can. They haven’t been clearing zombies, but that’s likely because they provide a defense on the off chance someone attempts an invasion.”
“Is there anyone who could do that? Or would want to?”
“Not that I know of,” said the captain. “The dead can’t get over the walls, so their cities and fields are safe, which might make them a tempting target. I can say that we’ve recently picked up radio transmissions from areas thought devoid of life. It seems many of the survivors previously in hiding are becoming active. Having constructed their own defenses, they now have the time to deal with other issues.”
“Sort of like us,” I acknowledged. “We got situated and fortified our homes to the point that zombies weren’t the worry they used to be.”
“Same or similar. They also copied you and the raiders in looting military equipment.”
“But nukes?”
That was far beyond normal scavenging, and there couldn’t be too many people left with the technical knowhow to make use of them.
“All of our weapons are under the government’s control.” Captain Briggs stared me in the eye. “All of them. We made that an early priority. Each one is accounted for and secured, even those that weren’t moved to the islands. Russia claims they did the same. Israel still refuses to admit they have any. The British, like I said, seem to have gotten theirs in order. The other true nuclear powers, namely France, China, Pakistan, and India, are the wildcards, maybe North Korea as well.”
“So, what you’re saying is that with the other side of the planet still setting off nuclear weapons and a lot of these unaccounted
for, there is no way we are going to get any help.” It was not a question.
“We currently have some five thousand people overseas trying to figure it out, meaning almost our entire military bolstered by plenty of volunteers. The government can’t help us, aside from blanket bombing the area, which was voted down by the civilian leadership here in Yellowstone. We’re on our own.”
* * *
I left Lizzy in charge the following morning and took a short helicopter ride to the village Captain Briggs had mentioned. Approximately fifty people were in residence, and they’d cleared a few acres for farming. Beyond that and the handful of large cabins, there wasn’t a whole lot to the place. Accompanying me were Mary and the twins. You know, I am honestly beginning to think that I’ll never again spend a single moment alone, not until the day I die.
“What’s the name of this place?”
Mary did a quick consult of her notepad. “Clarksville.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s what they named it.”
“It there a last train coming?”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would they have a train?”
I laughed, thoroughly amused. “It’s a reference to some music from way before you were born and far better than the crap you listen to.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my music.”
Mary was indignant at the mere suggestion.
“Just keep telling yourself that.”
I stepped past her toward the approaching crowd. Xavier had already taken off. He would do some scouting and be back for us later in the afternoon.
“How come our town doesn’t have a name?”
That was a very good question. We’d been there for quite a while and still referred to it as the town or valley. For that matter, we hadn’t named any of the secondary valleys where those tending animals or growing crops lived. They were just numbers on a map.
“I’m going to blame Briana, since she’s not here to argue.”
* * *
“Mary is happy.”
“That she is, Tara.”
My daughter was sitting on a split rail fence with another teenager. He looked to be close to her age, somewhere just shy of six feet, athletic build, with hair every bit as blonde as hers. I think this was the first time she had ever shown a possible romantic interest in anyone. Maybe the row of decapitated heads had the girl wondering if she shouldn’t squeeze in as much as she could before something bad happened. I hoped that wasn’t the case.
“Dale, give it up,” I called, waving him over.
The twins had been taking turns examining and cleaning the villagers’ guns. Most were in perfect working order, but they’d dismantled a few, using the parts to repair others. It was a process they were well practiced at, but once the high end devices were checked I decided to put an end to it. There was no need for Dale to waste his time on revolvers and small caliber semi-automatics that were rarely used.
Following Tara’s brother was the mayor of Clarksville. He had a rifle slung over one shoulder – almost everyone was carrying – and a small cask under the opposite arm.
“Have some homemade cider if you’re interested.”
I brightened. “Absolutely.”
Four cups were set on the table, and he began to pour.
“Do you think we are going to need the training you gave us today?”
“I hope not,” I replied. “Based on your location, you probably won’t see any raiders unless they get through your own militia and then us. A few might slip through or around – and they do seem to be probing – which is why Captain Briggs asked us to check this place out and try to get you better situated. Possible, but I think it’s unlikely.”
He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “We will have the trenches dug by tomorrow night and some new fences in place to make it harder to get at us, and we’re going to keep a couple people on watch at all times, probably on the rooftops.”
“Keep the short range radio handy too,” I advised. “We’ll let you know if they’re breaking through. If that happens, get most of the people out and running. You may or may not want to leave a few fighters behind. That will depend a lot on the actual situation. I might fall back to this spot if I have to. Again, I don’t think that’ll happen. It’s more likely we would move into the roughest terrain we can find, make it hard for them to reach us.”
I fully expected our side to win. Those bastards needed to be put down for good, and we were ready to do just that.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to set up an infirmary?”
“No,” I said. “Any injured we evacuate will be going to the center of the park where your big hospital is.”
Big is a relative term, and with a total population of a thousand, the facility was actually quite small. It was similar to the hospital we’d built in the Black Hills. There were a dozen beds, two exam rooms, and a single large operating room that could hold up to three tables so several could be treated simultaneously. If you remember old episodes of M*A*S*H, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.
“Dad, this is Michael.” Mary joined us with the youth in tow, taking a quick sniff of my drink before finishing it off.
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
I tried not to wince. Such formality worried me. It was the way a man behaved when meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. Then again, they’d only met a few hours earlier. I should be safe. Perhaps he was simply polite.
“Good to meet you too.”
“He wants to join our militia,” said Mary, “because it’s so much better than the Yellowstone militia.” She smirked. “We have prettier uniforms.”
“Wait a second,” interrupted the mayor. “Michael, does your uncle know about this?”
“Not yet, sir, but he won’t mind. You know he wanted me to join from the start. You see…” He turned to me and Mary. “…the captain put the minimum age at seventeen, and I’m not quite there.”
“Captain Briggs is going to be mightily upset if Jacob takes you in spite of that rule.”
“He won’t care,” I remarked, “or if he does, he won’t make a fuss of it. Mary isn’t the only sixteen year old we have. Got a few fifteen years olds too, which is our minimum age, but they got left behind.”
“That’s because they lack my maturity.” Mary elbowed Michael in the ribs when he failed to laugh.
“And we don’t have uniforms,” I added, “just regular camo, no insignia.”
“Well, we should,” she stated, defiantly. “We would look good in green, or maybe purple, maybe green with purple trim.”
“What do you think, Mayor Brewster.” I’d managed to remember someone’s name, someone I had just met. That might be a first.
“His uncle did throw a fit when the captain refused to let him enlist. Old Carter would be fighting too if not for a bum leg and severe arthritis in both hands.”
“I’ll tell you what, Michael, if you can outshoot either Tara or Dale, just one of them, not both, I will consider maybe, possibly, letting you tag along.”
“That is so not fair!” shouted Mary.
“I’m a good shot,” he said, hurriedly. “One of the best here.”
“Set up some targets then.”
I tried not to laugh, and shame on me for having so much fun. Obviously, the stories about the twins hadn’t spread to this little haven. I never could have gotten away with such a thing back home.
“This…” Mary threw up both arms. “Arrrgh!”
Desiring a break from the near constant labor, most of which was based on my recommendations and likely those of Captain Briggs who had come through a while back, the locals lined up to watch the contest. Several were placing wagers. It seemed Dale and Michael were running even with Tara considered a long shot.
“You show them what you can do,” ordered an elderly man with a cane. I’m guessing it was Michael’s uncle.
“Ten shots each at the target, open sights. You have three minutes
to fire them off. Michael can go first, then Dale, and finally Tara. You get to brace the rifle on the table too. If you shoot through your own bullet hole, that’ll be considered a miss, since there’d be no way to tell otherwise. That’s how Patton lost in the Olympics back in 1912.”
I received some blank stares. The state of education nowadays. Frightful.
“I’ll handle the stop watch,” I finished.
Michael sat down first. He was armed with a standard 30-30. The twins were using my hunting rifle, which I tended to cart around in case we saw dinner frolicking in the forest. Their sniper rifles fired such large rounds that it would be difficult to judge the results, and the odds of the paper tearing was a little too great for my liking. Neither Tara nor Dale cared. They were the ones who set my sights originally, so it wasn’t like they were unfamiliar with the weapon.
“In case you don’t know, the red dot is what you’re aiming for. You can start in five seconds, four, three, two, one.”
Michael fired at the target on the far left. It was a black sheet of paper, the middle of which was decorated with a bright red sticker. This was followed by the remaining nine rounds, completed in exactly two minutes, twenty one seconds.
“Pretty good, I think,” he said, with apparent and justified pride.
“Dale’s turn.”
Mary let out a groan.
“What? Is he that good?” asked the teenager.
My daughter didn’t answer.
Dale fired off all ten rounds in a little over a minute. Tara followed taking three seconds longer.
“Go get the targets, Mary.”
She glared at me before sprinting away. Okay, so maybe I deserved it.
“Here’s Michael’s.” I held up the two by two foot piece of construction paper. “All ten hit, and they are mostly around six inches of the center.”
“One’s almost dead center,” pointed out Carter. “Good one. Taught him myself.”
“And we have Dale’s.”
The red sticker was untouched, but there was a circle of ten bullet holes around it. This wasn’t a perfect circle, but there could be no doubt that he hit exactly where he intended.
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 9
