“Want to go climbing tomorrow?” he asked, deftly moving the topic to something other than his less than stellar reputation.
“Maybe. I have to do some patrols in the early morning, but that shouldn’t take too long.”
The radio at her waist crackled. “Renee, you around?”
She unclipped it and hit the transmit button. “What is it, Lizzy?”
“Got news of people over in Rapid City. Can you check it out? I would go, but I have to deal with two kids who decided that wild mushrooms are not only safe to eat but are also hallucinogenic, regardless of the type.” She sounded irate, disgusted, and tired. “Got both of them in the hospital, puking up blood.”
“Will they be okay?” asked Renee, alarmed.
“Docs say they should recover. That’s not stopping a pair of mothers from crying and freaking out. I had to have them taken out of the room. Shame neither has a father anymore. I’d personally hand the guys a belt so they could beat some sense into the brats.” Lizzy growled something unintelligible. “The moms might be up to it, in a few days. Damn, I wish Briana was back already. I hate this conflict management shit.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll head right over.”
“Ronnie got the details from Xavier – he did the over flight in a Cessna – and Ronnie’s waiting over by the landing pad. Grab whoever is around and take them with you, just in case.”
Lizzy signed off, and Renee turned toward Rudy.
“I get it,” he remarked. “We can have a meal sometime later. Go see if there are any survivors needing rescuing. Do try to be safe if it’s The Brotherhood or raiders.” Rudy ran a finger down her cheek. “Wouldn’t want a face as lovely as yours not coming back, would we now?”
* * *
Taking one of the Pave Hawks, due to its firepower and ability to seat a large number of people, Renee and four others flew toward the town, coming in from the north. It was on the outskirts of Rapid City, well above I-90, where Xavier had spotted a suspicious truck. He was certain it hadn’t been there before. More telling was the fact a dog had been sitting in the bed. From his altitude it was difficult to say, but the animal had the look of a pet. With fuel running low, he couldn’t come around for a second pass, so he radioed in the information.
“Keep an eye out,” cautioned Renee.
Ronnie quickly spotted the vehicle Xavier had described. The dog was no longer present, but the pickup did appear functional. With most cars slowly rusting away and sitting on flat tires, this really wasn’t that difficult an observation. Something was up, so he dropped Renee and her small squad in the middle of the street before lifting high into the air and heading south. There was no way to prevent any nearby zombies from seeing or hearing him. As such, it was best to not be hovering directly over his friends.
The militia members quickly spread out and scanned the area. One shambler exited an alley and was expeditiously dropped with two shots to the forehead. That was a drawback to the silenced .22 caliber pistols. The rounds didn’t do nearly the damage of their larger cousins and often missed whatever portion of the brain needed to be destroyed in order to kill a zombie for good. On the other hand, several militia members were engaged in a running competition to see who could use the fewest rounds for every one hundred put down. The things people do for entertainment.
“Movement up ahead,” announced Jimmy, “the green house. I saw someone inside the window, left of the door.”
That was the structure closest to the pickup.
“All right, folks,” called Renee, loudly, “we are here to help, so send someone outside to talk.”
Nothing happened.
“For Christ’s sake,” she snapped. “It’s going to be dark soon. Get your ass out here, so we can get you back to the settlement, unless you prefer hanging around with the zombies.”
Two more of the walking dead were slain as she waited impatiently.
“Your funeral,” she declared, her patience gone.
It wasn’t until the squad had moved halfway to the nearest intersection, large enough for Ronnie to land and providing them with a clear line of sight in all directions, that the door finally opened. A man wearing a sweatshirt and jeans stepped forth.
“About damn time.”
“Got at least one more inside,” warned Jimmy. “There’s a face in the window furthest left. Gone now.”
“Everyone keep a close watch,” ordered Renee softly, prior to closing the distance. She stopped fifteen feet short of the house. “What took you so long?”
“We didn’t know who you were,” he replied, his voice and eyes full of apprehension.
The man did not appear dangerous, perhaps the complete opposite. He was certainly acting timid.
“Nice accent,” she remarked. “You’re not a local. Where did you come you from?”
“Canada.”
Renee repressed a groan. The woman had no love for Canadians, thinking them whiners in the extreme who, aside from exporting hockey players to the NHL, never did anything of value. Well, they were also good at imposing unreasonably high taxes on the populace.
“They have a military in Canada, before this happened?”
He took a step back. “Are you soldiers?”
“What do you think? You saw the heavily armed helicopter we flew in on, the fatigues we’re wearing, the rifles we are carrying? Get the others out here. I’m taking you to Baltis. The government will get you sorted. It’s supposed to be my day off.” Those last words were an angry mumble.
“Baltis?” His eyes suddenly widened. “You mean the American government? It still exists?”
This was one of the reasons Renee hated making initial contact. Most who’d been on their own or in tiny groups had absolutely no clue what was happening elsewhere. They generally began spouting questions, one after another, the sort that had no quick answers. Others were off their rocker and had to be dealt with carefully, sometimes with violence breaking out at the most unexpected time for some meaningless reason. Finding and eliminating enemies was far easier and every bit as satisfying.
“Yes! Now, get the others and your belongings. We are leaving.” She grabbed her radio. “Ronnie, get back here for pickup.”
“Roger that,” he said.
The Pave Hawk soon reappeared.
“Zombies are going to be following him,” she cautioned. “They always do, so go get your people.”
That sunk in, and he scurried away. A minute later he returned with two teenagers in tow. The boy bore a strong resemblance and was likely his son. The girl was of greater interest in that she had a Rottweiler on a leash. It appeared well trained. They also had backpacks and several bundles.
“If the puppy bites me,” stated Renee, “I will be annoyed and hold it against you personally. If he shits in the helicopter, you have to clean it. Got that?”
The teenager nodded.
“Jimmy, check the guys. I’ll pat down the lady.” She regarded the girl. “Standard procedure, so please hand over any weapons.”
These were a hatchet, three knives, one .38 revolver, and a baseball bat. Their other belongings consisted of clothes, a smattering of personal effects, and a small amount of food.
“How have you stayed alive for so long?” She shook her head. “Inside, and tie the dog’s leash to one of the seat belts or hooks. Wouldn’t do to have him trying to run around. Hold him tight too, in case he gets scared when we take off.”
“Right over here,” added Jimmy, gesturing to the back of the chopper. It was well away from where the militia members normally sat. They’d moved animals by air in the past, and it rarely went well.
* * *
The seventeen year old, Rose, ended up spending a quarter hour cleaning Thor’s mess. The dog was huge and appeared ferocious, but the instant Ronnie lifted off and banked to the left, he emptied his bowels, laid down in the mess, and let out a stream of whimpers. Poor thing. Fortunately, there was no shortage of disinfectant.
Renee provided the trio wi
th some basic information while she waited for this chore to be completed. There was a quick description of the current political situation. On the domestic front, there was the American military which had survived somewhat intact, if greatly diminished, and the continued existence of a freely elected civilian government. She also went into detail on how there were two autonomous mainland settlements: the Black Hills and Yellowstone. Because Yellowstone had fewer people and more room, this group would likely be sent there in the next day or so.
The newcomers shared their tale in turn. They were from Canada, up around Regina in southern Saskatchewan. When it all began, Ivan Ratingo and his son, Edward, headed for the countryside. They later picked up Rose and her parents, neither of whom survived the first winter. The plan had been to remain in the wilderness whenever possible, aside from the occasional looting of isolated farm houses or abandoned cars for food and supplies. This had not proved sustainable, and they’d slowly been drifting south, sometimes going as far as searching structures on the outskirts of a town.
Ivan had been quick to say that they likely would have passed Rapid City by, except it seemed unusually clear of the shambling dead. Renee explained how we conducted semi-regular culls, something which would soon change. With the raiders and The Brotherhood both eliminated, there should be no further distractions. We could finally hit Rapid City properly and search every house and store, one by one. Renee neglected to mention our recent conflicts. These people had experienced enough excitement already.
After Rose finished the cleanup to Ronnie’s satisfaction, Renee took them to the citadel so they could be handed off to Lizzy and Laura.
* * *
It was late, but there was a chance Rudy might still be awake, so Renee wound her way through the wide thoroughfares that crisscrossed the town on her way to his cabin. Rudy had been among the first to claim a private residence, once the number of homes available allowed for such a thing, and he continued to live alone. Renee didn’t bother with a flashlight – the half moon and stars provided more than enough illumination – and she tended to prefer the darkness, especially now that it was safe to walk around at night once more.
She came in from the side and spotted him standing in his front doorway. Only, Rudy was not alone. He was standing close to another woman. The angle was bad, and Renee couldn’t see her face clearly. Nor could she make out their words. However, Renee had no difficulty in determining what they were doing. Rudy bent down to kiss the other woman on the lips, a long, lingering, passionate embrace that sent sparks running through her spine. Renee waited for the interloper to depart, and only when she was well away did Renee stomp up to the door and give it a good, solid rap.
“Honey,” he said, surprised. “I thought you would be busy all night. You found some people, didn’t you? That’s what everyone was saying. Were they okay?”
“They’re fine, a little rattled about us flying in like we did, but they seem decent enough. You ever get that quail? I considered swinging by Diane’s to see if there was any left, but there’s no chance of that now.”
Rudy leaned against the doorframe. “No. It didn’t seem right eating any, not without your sparkling, lovely, and so very beautiful self at my side.” He smiled broadly. “Maybe we can try for lunch tomorrow or an early, early breakfast.”
Renee found that she was having difficulty breathing.
“How about you tell me what she was doing leaving here instead.”
He stiffened. “You mean Jessie?”
That was who it was. Renee was really getting pissed now. The woman, who worked with the dairy cows, was a tramp.
“It isn’t what you think. I…”
She cut him off. “You better think long and hard before you give me some bullshit lie.”
Rudy hesitated, chewing at his lower lip. Then he shrugged. “Screw it. You want the truth, well, I’ll give it to you. Renee, you are a fine looking woman, but since you refuse to spread your legs, you can go fuck off.” He closed and latched the door.
Chapter XII
We arrived in Montana at one of the half dozen airstrips we favored. Policy required the particular location be randomly selected. This was to prevent an enemy from lying in wait. They could still do so, I suppose, but the attempt would likely result in weeks or even months of hiding, doing nothing, being bored, and possibly ending up as zombie chow.
At any rate, we landed in the early morning hours, and that was with a departure in the late afternoon. Going east through so many time zones was way worse than heading west had been, and by the time the sun set, we would have been awake for something like twenty four hours. This day was going to be brutal, and I’m sure we’d all be dragging come dinnertime. Asher was the exception. He’d managed to sleep on the plane and was full of energy. That wouldn’t last, but if we could entice him to nap a few more times and then go to bed at the regular time, he should return to his normal routine without too much fuss.
Xavier was waiting with a Pave Hawk. Yes, I realize using a combat chopper to ferry us back and forth is a waste of its extensive, death dealing capabilities. However, the Pave Hawk is capable of carrying our entire party, the luggage, and a few select items. The bulk of the goodies would go by truck.
“That was certainly an eventful journey,” commented Major Briggs.
The Yellowstone representatives were gone, having transferred to a Cessna almost immediately. The major would follow shortly, leading a convoy with their share of the supplies. I briefly considered how this made me look, in regards to my not taking personal responsibility, but I quickly shoved that thought aside. Marcus was more than capable, and he had plenty of heavily armed volunteers in case they encountered any threats.
“Do you really think putting a senator in the hospital is going to blow over?” asked Briana.
This had not been discussed on the transport, not with representatives of the Hawaiian government seated nearby.
“Under the current circumstances, it should. I’ll send you whatever updates I get, but I really don’t think there’s any reason to be worried.”
“That will be appreciated,” I said.
So much drama and excitement. Considering the altercation after the fact, I realize I could have handled things better. However, if it were to happen a second time, I doubt if my response would be at all different. There is a proper, civilized way to handle matters. Then you have the straightforward, no nonsense approach. I prefer the latter. It is far more effective.
“I’m expecting a period of calm,” I added, “so let’s all pray our nemesis, Murphy, is not going to use Hawaii to screw that up. Aside from some minor scavenging runs, I have nothing even remotely dangerous planned.”
“Would be nice to be able to sit back and relax for once,” agreed Briana. “We need the downtime. That goes double for the militias.”
“The stress has been building,” agreed Briggs, unhappily. “It wasn’t all that bad immediately after the battle with the raiders, but it’s gotten worse as the men have more time to think about what they did and the losses we suffered.”
“You could try some parties maybe,” suggested my wife. “We are definitely having one for Labor Day, maybe something smaller between then and now.”
“I’m sure the council in Yellowstone already has some planned. They seem to arrange more than you.”
“So not fair!” called Mary. She was a few yards off, digging through the crates we’d brought back. “No one is supposed to enjoy life more than us.”
“Social functions do seem to help,” he concluded, “and we try to prevent anyone suffering severe depression from being alone all the time.”
“Feel free to send any over to speak with Father Nicholas,” I said, “if they want to.”
The priest was at the center of our mental health care system. He had a pair of undergraduate degrees, religious studies and psychology, and a couple decades of practical experience counseling others. Father Nicholas was also non-judgmental and readily worked with
those of other faiths. The man spent more time dealing with people’s day to day issues than their spiritual needs. Still, what I wouldn’t give for an actual doctor who specializes in mental illness.
“I will put that out as a possibility,” replied the major.
“See my surfboard?” interrupted Mary.
She had retrieved the useless toy and was carrying it toward the Pave Hawk.
“Surfboard!” shrieked Asher.
He pried himself free of Briana’s arms, darted past the twins, and slammed into his sister. She promptly dropped the surfboard, and Asher jumped on top of it, making race car noises.
“Asher!” she exclaimed. “That was rude, and you know it’s not something you drive.”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Not!” she yelled. “Not! Not! Not!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“No! No! No!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“No! No! No!”
* * *
“You all have fun in Hawaii?” asked Xavier.
“It was great,” answered Mary. “We got to swim and play and build sandcastles. Those were for Asher, not me.”
“Of course they were.”
“Are you implying something?” she demanded.
“Me, never.”
“Hey! Don’t make me come up there and hit you in the head.”
“Mary, no knocking the pilot senseless.” Briana reconnected Asher’s safety belt. “And you, stop undoing it.”
“I wanna see the window.”
My wife pushed his tiny hands down. “It’s want to, not wanna, and you have to stay in your seat. If Xavier turns suddenly you could go flying and splat against the wall. Do you want to hit your head? Maybe get a cut and have to get stitches? Those are just like getting shots from the doctor, lots and lots of shots.”
Asher’s face went pale, and he shook his head. “No shots!”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 32
