by W. J. Lundy
The man nodded and rubbed at his chin. “And Palmer?”
“I sent him back to Coldwater, told him to try to get them to evacuate north.”
The man nodded thoughtfully. “Too late for that… had a radio chat with the captain this morning; they’re already pulling up stakes and moving north. They’re picking up the same Primal activity and numbers that we are. I already evacuated all the civilians and family members from here—sent them north as well. Primal activity is pegged all over the region. I haven’t seen this many since right after the fall. At this rate, this camp will be surrounded in days, the roads impassable in a week.”
“The Detroit breach?” Gyles asked.
Shaking his head, the black man said, “Scouts located another breach to the west near the Michigan City barrier; we got three million-plus Primals moving through it. A team tried to close the gap. It’s a hundred miles from here; at the pace they estimated, they’d be here in thirty hours if we did nothing. They messaged back that they were going to try to plug the break in the wall.”
Brad cleared his throat and looked at the man. “And did they?”
He looked at Brad and frowned. Brad recognized the look of a weary leader with troops in the field—troops that he didn’t know were dead or alive. “Wish I knew. We lost communications with them once they started the Op.” He turned to Gyles and said, “This the one you told me about? The one with the Texas friends?”
Gyles moved his jaw like he was chewing leather and nodded. “Yeah, he’s up from the south, part of the Texas Army.”
“That true?” the man asked.
Brad shook his head and stuck out his hand. “Nope, not at all; my name is Brad. Once, a long time ago, I was a staff sergeant in the US Army. This here is Chelsea; she’s a Marine.”
The man smiled and returned the handshake. “A Marine, you say? Hot damn! I’m not used to sharing my crayons in this camp, but I’ll let you have some of the duller colors. Name’s Luke. I served, but my last job was in a local PD.” His face turned serious again. “Now what about Texas?”
Brad shook his head, and grimaced. “Sorry, I have no ties to Texas. I was with a group in West Virginia. We got hit by raiders and had people taken.” Brad paused, and his eyes drifted to Chelsea before he continued. “Texas was in the area and turns out they were hating on the same folks, so, yeah, we did fight alongside them. But as far as me having an association or being able to speak for them, I’m afraid not.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “This group you belonged to… what about them? Where are they?”
Shrugging, Brad looked down at his feet. “Can’t say.”
“You’re here all alone then? They didn’t send you?” Luke asked. “You have no backup coming?”
“Nope. I’m from up north originally; I was just passing through, trying to get home.”
Luke stopped and looked at Gyles. “Is he with us or not?”
Gyles slapped Brad on the back. “He’s with us.”
Brad held up a hand. “I can answer that for myself. With us… yeah, that depends on what it is us are doing.”
The man shook his head. “The wall is compromised; the East is here in numbers. Every colony between the freeway and the Detroit River is gone or severely damaged.”
“And what are you planning to do about it?” Brad said sarcastically.
Luke brought his right hand to the back of his neck and rubbed while closing his eyes tightly. He opened them slowly and turned to look out at the surrounding forest. “I thought maybe we could draw them all here. Take them on at the walls, put up a hell of a fight. Kill off the Zombies and hide, maybe bug out in the vehicles. In the past, if you killed enough of them, eventually the Primals would figure out what time it was and fade away.”
“We’ve fought them too, but that’s not going to happen here; there are just too many for that,” Chelsea said.
Luke nodded. “Yeah, once we heard about Chicago we knew it wouldn’t work. Even without Chicago it was a fool’s chance at best. So now the plan has changed. We know where the New Republic headquarters is and there’s a good chance we can raise enough hell on the way there to draw the active Primals back through the wall and lead them south. We were just kind of hoping your Texas boys would show up to help us finish them off.”
Brad scrunched his face and looked at Chelsea. “Are you kidding? And then what? Be left with a few million infected gnawing on our asses?” He shook his head and reached for his pack. “You have three million Primals moving this way west from Chicago, and another million east from Detroit, and who knows what is coming at us from the south. There is no stopping this. You lead these things south and you hit another horde—possibly wiping out whatever it is Texas has got, the same way they wiped out the Eighty-Second Airborne in D.C. There is no fighting this. We need to get our shit and run.” Brad paused, locking eyes with Chelsea. He held his breath then exhaled. “There’s only one way, and nobody is going to like it.”
Chelsea sighed. “I’m afraid that doesn’t end well for us, does it?”
Shrugging, Brad said, “We’ve been through worse.”
Luke looked at them, his eyes moving between Brad and Chelsea. “What’s your plan? We’re open to suggestions.”
“We have to work with them. We can’t do this without their help.”
“The New Republic?” Gyles said, interrupting. “Are you kidding?! You think we should work with them? They started all of this when they knocked down the walls in the first place.”
“With the numbers we’re facing, I don’t see another way.” Brad looked down. “Even with their help, this might be a one-way trip.”
Luke smiled, revealing bright white teeth. He grabbed Gyles by the shoulder and squeezed. “He’s smarter than you described.” He laughed, and Chelsea scowled.
“That was the plan all along, wasn’t it?” she interjected. “Why did you lie to us?”
Luke’s face turned serious, and he looked at her. “Because most sane folks won’t get it until they see it for themselves. Like you said, we cannot win it alone, and if we are going to delay long enough to get the people to safety, we need all the help we can get.”
“How do we contact them?” Chelsea asked.
Luke turned out toward the setting sun. “If the scout reports from south of the wall are correct, shit is about to get crooked. All the New Republic boys are pulling back; they have to be seeing the same things we are.”
“Back to where?” Brad said.
“Toledo. We have to get there before the horde, and we’ll need to move quick if we want to stay ahead of it.”
Chapter 23
Three Corners Outpost, West of Lancaster, Ohio. The Dead Lands
Sean sat like a stone at the corner table, watching the trio of men scarf down a second bowl of rabbit stew. Riley was beside him, while Henry and the other boys sat a table across the room from them playing cards. He sipped at a glass of mash, now heavily watered down. The men looked like real soldiers. Not raiders, not hardened killers like the men he’d seen on a dozen combat outposts in a half dozen countries.
The leader showed his stress on his face—the burden of command—and the two young men looked as bored as any junior enlisted he’d ever seen. They appeared to have no concern for the others in the room.
Sean looked at Riley and in a faint voice said, “You didn’t quite know as much as you thought, did you?”
“Da hell are you talking about?”
“The outposts; you thought your people ran ’em,” Sean said, taking another sip of the mash. “Looks to me they can’t stand the fuckers any more than they could stand you and your raiders.”
Riley’s hand squeezed into a fist. “I’m not a raider. They are not my people.”
“Well, you sure made quick work of those boys before we could figure it out. What was it they would have told us about you?”
“Those two were rapists and murderous scum.”
Sean smiled with half of his face in a sarca
stic grim. “What was it they said to you?”
Riley reached for his own glass and topped it off from the bottle. “They said they knew who I was, and that I would be leaving with them in the morning. That I would be carrying their gear; asked who you all were and said they were looking for recruits.”
Sean put up a hand to silence the big man as Tracey approached their table. Tracey had helped hide the bodies and clean up the mess. She hadn’t said much else other than making it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything to do with their fight against the East. This outpost existed under neutrality agreements. Neutral to a point—if they continued to gather and make half-assed trades with the East, the East would leave them alone. She was helping them, but Sean didn’t know how far that generosity would stretch. Tracey leaned over the table and removed empty bowls then pointed at the bottle. “Will you be wanting more?”
Sean shook his head and tipped his eyes toward the trio of soldiers. “So, what about them?”
“It’s getting late, and they’re looking to stay the night. Some convoy dropped the three of them off. Said they will need a vehicle in the morning.”
“Vehicle? Why would they be dropped off if they didn’t have transportation out. What are they doing here?”
She lowered her voice and looked away. “The one in charge says they are looking for a group of men that ran a roadblock south of here.” She looked at Riley. “They say these men are dangerous.”
“Pfft.” Riley sighed. “I’ll show ’em dangerous if that’s what they’re really looking for.”
“Well, aren’t you just tougher than a two-dollar pork steak,” Tracey scoffed, shaking her head. “I know damn well it’s you all they’re hunting. I won’t say shit as long as you keep to yourselves and get out of here at sunup.” She scowled down at the red-bearded man before turning back to Sean. “They’re hoping to trade for a running set of wheels. Planning to pursue them—you—in the morning. They didn’t say so, but I also overheard one of the kids talking about a vast group of soldiers headed to the railroad depot about fifty miles to the south.”
Sean shrugged and sipped from his glass. He was lost out here. When pondering the situation, he had to come to terms with the reality that they had no intelligence on what to expect. He had no idea what the world looked like north of the Ohio River. A day earlier, he’d never heard of the Regulars and now he was sharing a tavern with a trio of them. “What’s to the south then? What do you know about this depot?”
“Like I said, it’s a rail yard,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, then saw by the look on Sean’s face that he wasn’t amused with her short answer. “It used to be a large railroad transportation center, all fenced in, hardened up. It’s where the trade manager takes all our goods for exchange.”
“What else?” Sean asked her, surprised she was being so open with him, but taking full advantage of the situation.
Tracey nodded and used a wet rag to wipe down the table. “They say Texas is moving in to slaughter all of us, and the men they’re hunting could be scouts.”
“Why would Texas want to slaughter us?” Riley asked, his voice almost breaking with laughter and causing Sean to kick him under the table to keep the trio of soldiers from looking in their direction.
“Look,” Tracey said, leaning over them. “I know it’s bullshit, but that’s the propaganda they’ve been feeding us. They want us to believe that Texas is on some conquest mission to quell the Midwest. That the New Republic is the only answer, that them moving all those women and kids north on the trains is for their own safety.”
“You know about the people and the trains?” Sean asked.
She nodded.
“Then why haven’t they taken you?”
She grinned at Sean. “I grew up five miles from here. Most of the equipment in this place came from my father’s bar. If they try to take it—or me—from this place, I’ll fill their bellies with buckshot.”
Sean smiled and tipped his head. “Fair enough. What about the rest? Have you seen people moved through here?”
“No,” she said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “But I’ve heard of entire communities being uprooted… people, families, everyone being taken away.”
“By Regulars?” he asked.
“No… raiders. They come first, the Regulars come later to clean up the mess and make things normal. The two groups act like the other doesn’t exist. And in some ways, I think they are being honest about it. Like the Regulars don’t know about the dirty work.”
Riley grunted. “They don’t want to know.”
Sean looked around the room—dark, filled with smoke, tables and chairs filled with rough men leaning over bowls or half-empty glasses. There were plenty of empty tables, and nobody sitting at the bar. He pursed his lips and looked back to Tracey. “Is this a normal crowd for tonight?”
Tracey took a step back from the table and used the bottom of her apron to wipe her hands. She shook her head. “Word travels fast. Not many will come in tonight with them here.” She looked back at Frank behind the bar. “I’ve got a couple tents with a few racks set up. You’re welcome to them tonight, but I’d appreciate if you all were gone in the morning; don’t bother saying good bye.”
Sean nodded his head in agreement, and Tracey waved a hand to the boy, who grinned and came running. Sean got to his feet and looked back Tracey. “We’ll get situated. Can you let Henry know to hang here for a bit before he comes along?”
She smiled at him. “Yes, I see; it’s best if those fellas don’t know you’re all together.”
Riley laughed and increased his pace to catch up with Frank, who was already at the door. Sean stepped through the open door and was surprised to see the sun had set. He looked at his watch; it was just past 1700. The temperature was dropping too, and he pulled his collar tight around his neck. He took easy steps, following Riley and the boy along the perimeter of the small tavern and then over a wooden boardwalk that led to the end of the large interior courtyard. There were three white fabric tents, the sort hunters would have purchased from sporting goods stores before the fall.
Sean did a quick turnaround to orient himself. He could see that he was surrounded by the red-brick building on all sides. They were now on the exact opposite side of the tall archway they’d originally entered. Smoke rose from barrels along the grounds of the courtyard. He searched the grounds and only saw the occasional man walking. Searching the rooftops, he could see no silhouettes; the interior did not appear to be guarded. These people were comfortable, soft. In the windows of the tall buildings, soft yellow lights glowed, and he could see bouncing shadows from the people inside.
“You coming?” Riley asked, holding aside the tent flap.
Sean took a last look then stepped through the opening. The inside of the tent made anything he’d ever spent time in while in the military look like the Ritz. It was beyond dirty; the beds were nothing more than elevated planks with worn and stained mattresses thrown over them. The woodstove was small and made of rusted steel, and a makeshift set of pipes led through a gaping hole in the roof that was sure to let in as much cold air as the warm air the fire produced.
“It’s a real nice shithole you got here, Frank. Be sure and tell your mom how we appreciate her hospitality,” Sean said, tossing his back onto one of the bunks.
Frank shook his head. “Oh, she isn’t my momma,” he said sternly. “My aunt.”
Riley reached into his pocket and handed the boy a pair of .357 rounds. “Well, however she comes to you, be sure and tell her we said thanks.”
Frank held the bullets in his hand, smiling, then tucked them into a shirt pocket before turning to leave the tent. Riley moved along the wall away from the burning fire and dropped his own pack on one of the better bunks. He sat heavily next to it then looked at Sean “What do you want to do? Wait for them Regulars to fall asleep and cut their throats?”
Sean shook his head and pulled off his boots. “I tell you what I plan to
do; I plan to get me some sleep then follow those boys wherever they make off to tomorrow.” He pushed his pack off the bunk, rolled out a sleeping bag, and crawled inside. “You got first watch,” Sean said, zipping himself into the bag. “Oh… and if you plan on doing any throat cutting, I sleep lightly and won’t shed a tear if I have to put a bullet in your face.”
Riley shook his head and laughed. “Damn, and all that time in the pub I thought we were bonding.”
“Keep climbing,” Brooks said, urging Joey higher into the rafters of the old hay barn.
The sun was dropping fast by the time they reached the barn. They could hear the things moving through the woods—not from one single direction, but from everywhere. The two men were high above the sounds, in the hayloft of the barn. Primals had moved in close and now had them surrounded but not trapped. Looking through breaks in the walls, Brooks could see them scattered in the trees, while others stood out in a distant hayfield and other old fields that had long ago been returned to nature. Joey grunted and pulled himself up over the final rafter of the barn and onto a platform. Just beside it was a large pulley that had at one time been used to raise things into the upper levels of the barn.
“They’re still coming,” Joey whispered. “They have to be all over the outpost too.”
Brooks climbed up beside him and crowded onto the platform. He contorted his body, trying to remove his pack, seeing that Joey had already removed his own and had it strapped to a vertical beam. Brooks slid his feet back and, shrugging, freed himself from the pack straps in the confined space. He did the same as Joey and wrapped a pack strap around a beam and tied it in tight to prevent it from falling.
“They must have followed that convoy in,” Joey said.
Brooks shook his head. “Too many, and they came from every direction. I don’t know; none of this feels right.”
They heard a loud crack and a screech below. The Primals had found the door to the barn and were pushing in against it. Brooks held his breath and listened.
