Storm Horizon

by Brian Switzer

  Will sucked air through his teeth. "Do home-brewer's need to measure the amount of sugar in their beer?"

  Terrence gave an appreciative whistle. "Good thinking." He shot Will a mock salute.

  "That's why they pay him the big bucks," Jiri said in a dry tone. He turned his attention back to the list. "A reflux still?"

  Cyrus withdrew another piece of paper from his folder and pushed it toward Jiri.

  Jiri reached out and pulled it to him. As he examined it he first chuckled and then laughed. He studied Cyrus and shook his head. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  Cyrus shrugged his shoulders. "It is what it is. What you want me to do?"

  Jiri read aloud. "One-inch copper tube seven inches long. Two-inch copper tube 36 inches long. Reducer coupling." As Jiri read, his voice grew louder and his face turned red. "Bench vice. Drill press. Propane fucking torch! I'll just call the local hardware store and get all that delivered.” He tossed the paper aside. “This ain't gonna happen. Will, you best learn how to plow behind a mule."

  "Now, hold on," said Terrence. He had retrieved the paper and checked it over. "Y'all have some crazy shit in that one tunnel where you store stuff you don't need yet. I'll bet some of these things are in there."

  "He's right," Will said. "I'm positive there's copper tubing in there and I think we have a torch." He eyed Cyrus. "Is that? Is there anything else?"

  Cyrus shook his head.

  Will prodded him. "And if you have all the things on these two lists, you can make ethanol? You're positive?"

  "If these instructions are correct, then yes, I’m positive I can make you all the ethanol that you get me the organic material to make."

  Will turned to the Judge, who'd been silent to this point. "Jody?"

  The judge blew out a big breath and gave a mirthless titter. "We have no choice I can see but to try. Cyrus has been with me since the day I came down here. Everything we've asked, he's found a way to do. I'm sure that if we get him the materials he needs, he'll succeed here, too."

  Will clapped his hands together. "That settles it. Terrence, give both those list to Jiri. Jiri, get two guys and comb this entire place. Find out what is already on hand and what we need, and then we'll get back together and see where we are." He leaned towards Jiri. "Make this your number one job, okay, partner?"

  "I will get on it and present you gentleman an answer by the day after tomorrow."

  "Now that that's settled," Will said, "Cyrus- if you'll excuse us, Doc Joseph is going to tell us about his crazy and suicidal idea about how to arm the camp."

  Thirty-Six

  * * *

  Danny sat in the passenger seat of the Ford as it weaved through the stalled traffic north on Highway 49.

  Leaving the quarry always made him happy. Much of the time, being there meant sitting around idle or fulfilling the drudgery of daily routine. Leaving meant action and excitement. But he didn't think he'd ever been as happy to leave as he was now. Over the previous forty-eight hours, Will had been damn near unbearable. His mood caromed between somber and furious and he seemed intent on making the people closest to him miserable.

  The day of quiet had passed, twenty-four hours that Jiri likened to living in London during the blitz. No lights allowed, no work lest the noise turn the creepers back toward the community. They skipped the usual communal meals- everyone ate in small groups in the tunnels instead. No engines could run, and Becky and the Harrison girls took the horses deep into one of the empty tunnels.

  It was mind-numbing. Barred from working, talking above a whisper, or even cleaning his gun, Danny thought the time would never pass. He slept away as of much of it as he could. When not asleep, he stared at the wall and tried to recall every sexual encounter he'd had since losing his virginity to a buddy's big sister at the age of fourteen. Even that was difficult- thoughts of Tara, of all people, kept intruding.

  But the plan worked. Once the twenty-four hours passed, they sent scout teams into the surrounding woods and pastures. Working an expanding circuit much like a circle-maze in reverse, they checked the ground for a mile around the quarry. The scouts encountered five creepers, total. It was as they'd hoped- the noisemakers stopped the creeper's advancement until other stimuli pulled them away.

  It was the next project that turned Will's mood black. Danny accepted his biting sarcasm and furious temper because he knew it came from a place of deep worry and concern. They were breaking rule number one- don't go into the towns. Not just breaking the rule, they were obliterating it. Five teams made up of the community’s best people heading out into the nearby towns to bring back the equipment Cyrus needed to manufacture ethanol.

  Terrence proved correct when he said a lot of what they needed was already on hand. One of the Will's more frequent complaints over the last two days was nobody knew for sure what the community owned. Jiri's first assignment after they moved in was to inventory of all the items in each of the tunnels. But that was a list of what they possessed then. Since that time, teams had made hundreds of runs to all kinds of places. They journeyed out into the countryside in search of the item of the day — food, weapons, steel — with one constant refrain- bring back anything you think we can use. Once they picked through the huge stockpile of items set aside for later use, they found many of the components of Cyrus’ lists.

  But not everything, so Danny found himself in his element again, active and about, heading up a mission.

  "Read me the things on that list again, Willa."

  Willa Piski, a pert, sprightly woman with huge brown eyes and a head of unruly brown hair, took a drag on her cigarette and blew smoke out the corner of her mouth toward an open window. She gave a theatrical sigh and rolled her eyes, and read from a sheet of paper. "Copper tubing, any size or length. Bench vice. Drill press. End caps and tee fittings." Willa continued to read, but Danny let her voice fade to a dull murmur in the background. He had every item on the list committed to heart- he liked making her re-read it because it frustrated her. Willa was jaded, caustic, and foul-mouthed, and she didn't seem in awe of Danny or overwhelmed of his good looks, either. Those traits both fascinated and irritated the shit out of him.

  Willa caught their attention while helping to hang the deer blowers and taking part in the perimeter search to make sure the blowers had worked. Her woodcraft was top-notch, she was fearless, and the three times her team engaged the dead she handled herself with aplomb. Later, Danny took her to the range to test her firearms skills. He handed her a 9 mm Beretta and started explaining the gun's basic handling. Lightning fast, Willa ejected the magazine, inspected it, jacked it back in and stepped to the firing line in a perfect two-handed stance. She popped off five shots, shooting as quick as her finger could pull the trigger. When she was done, she stepped back off the line, ejected the magazine again, cleared the chamber, and handed the weapon back to Danny butt-first.

  "My Daddy was a deputy sheriff. He had me and my three older brothers. They taught me to shoot when I was six and hunt when I was eight."

  She stood with one hand on her hip and smirked at him, her eyes dancing. He looked at her agog, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. He broke into a slow grin then threw his head back and laughed.

  She explained she’d been with The Originals since right after the outbreak. They were unaware of her abilities and content to have her on cooking and cleanup detail simply because she was a woman. "The Judge and his minions never asked if I had any useful skills," she said in a bitter tone. "Anytime I tried to tell them how I could help, they'd say 'we'll talk about it later. In the meantime, can you give me more coffee?' Assholes."

  Danny shook his head in admiration. "Don't worry. We'll have plenty of use for you from now on. You're one of us now."

  "Ooh. One of us. That sounds exciting. Do you have matching T-shirts?"

  "No, but we do have a Friday night bowling team. We get you one of those bowling shirts with your name embroidered over your titty."

  Danny chuckled to himsel
f as he recalled that conversation. In the three day since, Willa had been like a puppy, bouncing along after him everywhere. Only this puppy chain-smoked Winston Lights and nipped at his ankles whenever she was the least bit upset.

  He turned to Cassandro, who shared the back seat with Willa. "Are you all right, brother? Do you need anything?" Andro, never one to use ten words where five would do, or to speak when he could grunt, shook his head and looked at the window with a serene expression on his face.

  Danny glanced at the driver out of the corner of his eye. Jobe was another newcomer to Will's team. He sat ramrod straight in his seat and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. "Hey, Jobe," Danny said.

  He jumped and his eyes darted in Danny's direction. Danny gave him a kind smile. "Settle down. Relax, you are way too tense. You're going to grind that steering will to powder the way you are squeezing it."

  Jobe blushed and loosened his grip. "Sorry about that."

  "No need to apologize. You've fought these things before right?"

  A burly man with an open, friendly face and a bristle-brush of blond hair, he pumped his head up and down. "Oh, sure. Almost every day on the trip up here."

  Job Winters had been an insurance salesman and assistant high school football coach in Springdale, Arkansas. He'd shown up alone three weeks ago and was the first newcomer invited to stay. He was an experienced woodsman, an avid hunter, and was fearless when he fought creepers in Danny's training sessions.

  "Okay, then. It won’t be any different today, except three people will have your back. You won't have to go at the sons of bitches alone."

  Job nodded his head so vigorously his whole upper body shook. "Thanks. That makes a big difference. I don't know why I'm all ramped up."

  "Don't worry about it. Everybody's different their first time out. Andro back there," he jerked a thumb toward the back seat, "he used to throw up all over his shoes.”

  Cassandro blinked. "Why you say I throw my shoes?"

  "No, throw up on your shoes. Throw up. It means to vomit."

  Cassandro tilted his head and squinted at Danny. "I never did that." He sat up straight and squared his shoulders. "I never vomit on my shoes."

  Danny closed his eyes and sighed. "I know, Andro. It was a joke. I was trying to make Jobe feel better."

  Cassandro wasn’t mollified. He returned to looking out his window, muttering to himself as he watched the scenery go by.

  Willa popped up from her side of the back seat. "Wow, who would have guessed that the Latin men would be so sensitive about blowing chunks?"

  "Man," Danny said. "This conversation devolved fast." For a short time, he watched the trees flow by outside, until he saw an off-ramp looming in the distance. "Okay, Jobe. This is your exit. Take it, and I'll tell you how to get to the little downtown."

  They were pulling into Jasper, a tiny town ten miles north of the quarry and the scene of one of Danny's biggest triumphs. It was here that he'd broken into the field house at the high school football field. Once inside he found the equipment room and arrived back at the Underground with hundreds of football pads. Knee pads, hip pads, arm pads, and even two big boxes of helmets. From that point on, community members could protect themselves from bites while on runs. Some covered their bodies from head to toe, others just their forearms and necks, and a handful continued to go out with no padding at all. The pads gave them something they’d never had before- the ability to make a mistake and get bitten but not turn.

  He called out the lefts and rights that took them to Jasper's three-block-long Main Street. They made a final right-hand turn and downtown Jasper lay before them. "Hey, Willa- can you go over the list again?"

  Willa sat behind him and cursed a blue streak. Danny ducked his head and smiled.

  Thirty-Seven

  * * *

  Danny scanned both sides of the dingy three-block business district, looking for one of their targets. Cyrus said a hardware store, farm store, or home supply store was most likely to sell the items they needed.

  The silence was palpable once the growl of the diesel engine stopped. The only sound was the tick the truck made as it cooled.

  Willa poked a butt out the window and lit a new cigarette. "I don't understand why you guys drive these damned noisy diesel trucks. What's the matter with a gas engine? Are they too quiet for you?"

  Danny answered without turning around. "We spend our time out in the country. Diesel is easier to come by than gasoline. You pull up to a farm and pump it out of the farmer’s tank. That's why we try to stick to it."

  "Oh." She blew out a cloud of smoke and tapped her fingernails on the armrest. "Do you see any place that might work?"

  Danny squinted his eyes and looked as far down the street as he could. Seeing nothing, his shoulders slumped. "No. I don’t see a thing." He pursed his lips and kept examining the buildings, hoping something he missed would jump out at him.

  "Of course not," Willa groused. "Why should this be quick and simple?"

  "Hush," Danny said absently. There was a tickle on the edge of his memory, something he couldn't quite put together.

  "Oh, no you didn't. I know you didn’t just hush me," Willa said, but in a quiet voice with no sincerity.

  Jobe looked up and down the street. "There's a pizza place, a funeral home, the shadiest looking bank I ever saw."

  Willa leaned forward. "What's shady about it?"

  "It's in a trailer."

  "You've got to be shitting me. Where?"

  Job pointed toward a row of buildings one block down. "Right there." He shook his head. "I'm from Arkansas, and we don't even put our banks in trailer houses."

  A trio of creepers appeared from the far side of a long-abandoned building one block down on the other side of the street.

  "Guys," Willa said in a nervous tone, pointing to make sure her three teammates saw the creatures.

  "God damn, those are repulsive looking creatures," Jobe whispered.

  "Sit still and keep quiet," Danny said. "They don't know we're here." He had to agree though- they were three of the roughest looking creepers he'd seen in a while. Sores the size of quarters pockmarked their bodies and dripped puss in gooey yellow strings. Chunks of flesh as big as a hand had sloughed away from their bodies; maggots crawled busily around the biggest wounds. Their lips and gums had receded, pulling their lips back in horrible rictuses. Limp, Sickly wisps of hair hung from their bleached-out scalps. Their movements were jerky and stiff from atrophying muscles. Their necks moved in short spasms as they searched the street and lifted their noses to sniff the air.

  Danny watched them. "Something is different, but they can't place what. As long as we don’t alert them, we’ll be fine."

  Andro leaned forward and watched the dead through the space between the two front seats. "Hijo de puta, those are old creepers."

  "Yep," Danny agreed. "They turned a long time ago."

  Willa wrinkled her nose. "Bullshit. You guys are fucking with me. How can you tell how long it's been since they turned?"

  Danny didn't take his eyes off the dead. "They keep decaying after they turn. They might be up and walking around, but they are dead, and dead people decay. Jiri says that's how we're going to win this thing- we ride it out until they've all decayed enough to no longer be a threat."

  Willa gave a soft whistle. "Son of a bitch. I never heard of that. That’s probably the only promising thing I've heard since this whole bag of balls kicked off." She pulled a cigarette from her pack and tamped down the tobacco.

  Danny spun around to face her and snapped his fingers. "Don't light that! Did you stop to think they'll smell your smoke?"

  "Sorry." Willa rolled her eyes and pushed the cigarette back into the pack.

  "That is how people get killed." Danny spoke quietly but with a sharp tone. "You’re thinking there's just three of them, so who cares if we attract them or not? But the commotion kicked up as we put those three down draws a herd of fifty more, and two of us get bitten as we try to
get away. Use your god damn head."

  Willa wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at the floorboard. "I said I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.

  "Don't be sorry. Be careful."

  Willa nodded her head but didn't look up.

  The dead drifted off. They crossed the street, their shuffling steps slow and spasmodic, even for creepers. They disappeared between the pizzeria and an old brick building.

  Danny’s memory crystallized all of the sudden and he turned to Jobe. "I want you to start it up and drive. Straight down the road until I tell you to stop. We're going to try something different."

  Andro was still leaning forward. "What's up, hermano?"

  Danny shook his head. "I'm not sure. I think I saw something the last time, when I was over by the school. I really don't want to drive to the next town, so let’s go take a look."

  "Cool."

  They'd gone maybe a quarter-mile when Danny tapped Jobe on the arm to get his attention. "Slow down." He waited until the truck slowed to a crawl. "That big building on the right? That's the school. I want you to turn right on the road right before it."

  Jobe sped back up a little and slowed again at the crossroad.

  "Yeah- here. Turn right here."

  Jobe huffed. "I get the concept of ‘turn right’."

  Danny grinned at him. "Then do it, motherfucker, so I can quit riding your ass."

  They turned, and Danny pointed to a building in the middle of the second block. "Yes!" He smacked his open palm against the dashboard. "Go there, Jobe. Pull up in front."

  They rolled to a stop next to a squat gray building. It was constructed of painted cinderblocks and had two big bay doors. A peeling and faded sign on the roof read Ed's Paint and Body Repair.

  Danny looked at each of the others. "A body shop would have the shit we need, wouldn’t it? At least some of it?"

  Jobe nodded his head slowly. "The welding equipment, the press, the vise, and tools should be in there." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know about the copper pipe or the little ends and clamps."