Z Plan (Book 3): Homecoming

by Lerma, Mikhail

  “How did ya know we was comin?” asked the boy.

  Cale didn’t answer. Instead he posed his own question.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Does that Pa of yours like killing people?”

  The boy was quiet.

  “So that’s a yes,” stated Cale. “So what’s he do with the bodies?”

  Even in the dark Cale could see the boy was uncomfortable. He didn’t answer.

  “Okay. Let’s try another question,” said Cale. “What’s your name?”

  “Bobby, sir,” he answered.

  “Okay Bobby,” Cale continued. “How old are you?”

  “I’m fourteen, sir.”

  Cale nodded. His arms were getting tired carrying the rifle up.

  “Stop,” he told the boy.

  Cale took off his bag and rummaged through it before retrieving two pieces of jerky and a couple bottles of water.

  “Here,” he offered.

  Bobby said nothing and took both items greedily.

  “Worked up an appetite watching me all afternoon, huh?” asked Cale.

  “Pa didn’t want to lose track of ya,” he answered.

  “I figured as much,” replied Cale. “You guys aren’t exactly stealthy.”

  Silence fell on them once more. Cale noticed that there weren’t any cars around.

  “How far have we come?” Bobby asked.

  “A mile or two. Why?” inquired Cale.

  “We don’t come this far,” he answered.

  “Why not?”

  “We heard stories,” he said gravely.

  “About what?” Cale asked.

  “Them sick people out here. They’re different,” he explained.

  Cale thought about what Jenna had told him before letting him go.

  “Different how?” questioned Cale.

  “Ya haven’t heard about em?”

  Cale shook his head.

  “They’re smart,” he said. “We heard they used guns an stuff, sir. Nobody goes west.”

  Cale wondered what it meant. Were the infected really evolving intelligence? He hoped not.

  “How far we goin, sir?” Bobby asked.

  “You’re going to walk me to town,” Cale informed him. “After that you’re free to go back for your Pa and deliver a message.”

  “What’s the message, sir?” inquired Bobby.

  “I’ll give it to you when we get to town.”

  Bobby would have to accept that answer. He wrapped up the last half of his jerky and placed it in his pocket. Likewise, he saved half his water. Cale knew why.

  “Why do ya want to go west?”

  “I’m trying to get home,” answered Cale.

  “Ya a soldier?”

  “Yes,” he replied but quickly reconsidered. “Or…I was.”

  “How don’t ya know bout dem smart ones then?” asked Bobby.

  “Bobby,” Cale took a deep breath. “That is a long and unbelievable story.”

  “Were ya a prisoner?”

  Cale thought about his time with the Egyptian Armed Forces. Technically, the answer to Bobby’s question was yes.

  “No,” he stated.

  “He feeds em to Mama,” stated Bobby.

  “What?”

  “The bodies,” explained Bobby. “Ya axed what Pa does with em. He feeds em to Mama. She’s…she’s sick.”

  Cale knew that sick meant dead. And that Bobby’s father was just clinging to who she was, not what she’d become.

  “You know she isn’t sick, right?” asked Cale.

  “Yeah. It’s just Pa changed when everyone got sick,” he confessed. “He use to be the nicest man ya’d ever meet. We was always lettin folks stay with us when everythin was startin out. Even dem sick ones.”

  He paused.

  “We woke up one day an the folks we’d taken in had stolen all our stuff. Food. Water. Everythin. I stayed home when Mama an Pa went lookin for em. They was gonna try an reason with em. But when they found em—” Bobby trailed off.

  “That’s when your mom got bitten by one of them,” Cale attempted to finish the story.

  “Na. They was all dead. Pa said there was wild dogs eatin em. Mama tried to scare em off but one of dem dogs bit her,” he explained.

  “But she’s just like all these other people?” asked Cale.

  His curiosity was piqued. He’d seen infected animals but they didn’t seem to bother with humans before. It was possible that Bobby’s father just told him it was the dogs that bit his mother.

  “Yeah. Pa keeps her in the cellar,” he explained. “I’m not suppose to go down there.”

  “Interesting,” whispered Cale.

  Cale finished his jerky and sipped his water. Bobby didn’t seem to have noticed Cale wasn’t brandishing his weapon anymore. He supposed Bobby had shared his story, maybe he should share his own.

  “I was in Iraq,” he said.

  “Huh?” said Bobby.

  “You asked why I hadn’t heard the stories. I was in Iraq.”

  Bobby was quiet again. After a few steps he asked another question.

  “Did ya ever shoot anyone?”

  “Wow. Zombies are eating the living and this kid wants to know if you ever shot anyone,” scoffed Zach who was walking behind Cale.

  “Ya know Bobby,” began Cale. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Okay,” Bobby said unsatisfied. “So, they ain’t sick there in Iraq?” he continued his inquiry.

  “They’re definitely sick there,” Cale explained.

  “Is it better or worse here?”

  “Can’t say,” replied Cale.

  “Top secret huh?” speculated Bobby.

  “No. I just don’t know,” Cale answered. “Honestly, it’s a lot of the same thing going on. People killing people.”

  “Oh,” said Bobby. “So did they jus fly you back?”

  Cale wanted to laugh but didn’t. “Something like that.”

  Cale could make out a trailer park to the north. After a couple of hundred yards a sign for the Princeton business districted was posted. Many of the trees flanking the highway were cleared, and empty grassy fields took their place. An old tractor was left to rust in a field to the north. The dry grass had grown so tall it almost hid the farm equipment from view.

  “That’s always been out there, sir,” confessed Bobby.

  Cale nodded. The two of them pushed on. After another mile and a half they were within visual distance of a semi-trailer, diner, and gas station.

  “Sir—” began Bobby.

  “Shh,” Cale hushed him.

  They stopped moving and stood in the road quietly. An infected called out to them through the dark. Cale listened in an effort to pinpoint its location. It groaned from the side of the road to the south, back where they’d come from. Cale could see it moving toward them. It came in a straight line. Bobby watched Cale ready his rifle. He placed the red chevron sight of his ACOG on his target’s chest. It was maybe two hundred meters away. He took a knee and steadied his aim. He adjusted his sight and eased back the trigger. The weapon recoiled and the bolt slammed forward with a metallic click. About two hundred meters out the undead dropped to the ground, never to rise again.

  “Nice shootin,” exclaimed Bobby.

  “It’s good shooting, Bobby. No such thing as nice shooting,” Cale corrected him.

  “Oh,” said Bobby.

  “Walk me up to that semi and you’re free to go,” Cale said as he climbed to his feet.

  Bobby did as he was told and accompanied Cale the last one hundred yards, but froze when they reached the truck’s trailer.

  “What?” asked Cale.

  “We can’t be here,” he said. “We should leave.”

  Cale looked at him. He was terrified. What was he looking at? Cale followed Bobby’s eyes. There was something painted on the side of the trailer. It kind of resembled an ink blot. Then, as if someone activated the artistic part of Cale’s brain, he put the picture together. It was a black and white mu
ral of an undead carrying a machine gun. The artist had done a good job of catching the detail of its rotting face. No way this was the work of a “smart infected.”

  “It’s just a painting,” said Cale.

  “It’s their mark!” Bobby exclaimed.

  The boy was obviously bewildered. He appeared anxious to leave.

  “Alright,” stated Cale. “You can go, but you and your Pa have been warned. I catch you two following me again, I’ll fucking shoot you,” he threatened. “And be careful going back. Some of them might have come to the road following us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The boy turned to run back to his father and faded into the darkness. Cale looked back at the mural. He felt the zombie’s icy gaze upon him.

  “Unsettling,” whispered Zach.

  “Yeah,” Cale agreed.

  “So what’s the plan now? You going to keep walking?” asked Zach.

  “Too risky. Besides, I learned that lesson in Tel-Aviv. The truck here has an extended cab, which means a sleeper unit. I’ll just crash here for the night,” he explained.

  “And if Pa and Bobby-boy come back?”

  “It’ll be some time before they do, and there’s no way they’ll think to look in here,” Cale patted the side of the white semi.

  With his weapon ready he opened the door to the cab. It was empty. He climbed up and closed the door behind him. A burgundy colored curtain divided the cab from the sleeper. Nothing smelled dead, which was always a good sign. Cale drew back the curtain, but couldn’t see anything. He opened a pouch on his bag and pulled out a flashlight. Inside various pornographic magazines were spread across the floor.

  “Not sure I even want to sleep in here,” whispered Cale.

  He stepped on the faces of topless women and closed the curtain behind him. Cale prepared his sleeping bag and bedded down for the night. He only hoped tomorrow would be more productive than today was.

  Chapter 17

  EVOLUTION OF THE DEAD

  Cale groggily opened his eyes. It had been easier to sleep in the semi than he’d thought. Sunlight drifted through the curtain that separated the sleeper from the cab of the truck. Feeling hot, he pushed his sleeping bag open.

  “Holy—” he exclaimed before quickly covering back up.

  He could see his breath as he exhaled. Now, he didn’t want to get up. Cale mustered up the will-power and motivation to get out of the sleeping bag. The cold air anxiously rushed to greet his warm body. He fumbled putting his boots on and shivered as he tied them. He reached back into his sleeping bag and pulled out his heavy coat. A trick for having warm clothes he’d learned while camping as a kid. He graciously welcomed the additional layer. Cale stretched and groaned before retrieving dried fruit for breakfast. He slipped through the curtain and plopped himself into the driver’s seat, where he ate.

  Cale savored the rest of his breakfast and rested his head on the cold window. He scanned the road through the windshield. Naked trees lined the road, shivering in the chilly air. He could see a water tower peeking over the top of them. Princeton wasn’t a small town and would most likely be filled with infected. Cale hoped that the low temperatures would drive them into hibernation. At the next intersection, Cale could see a three car pile up.

  “What’s the plan, chief?” asked Zach from the passenger seat.

  “Get me some wheels—” began Cale.

  Something in the side mirror caught his eye. Movement. He slouched down into his seat and backed out of view fro the window. The windows were slightly fogged over, but he could see two people approaching the back of the semi.

  “Zombies?” Zach inquired looking concerned.

  Neither figure appeared to be limping or seemed to wander. Both walked in cadence with one another and infected didn’t do that.

  “Nope,” whispered Cale, who pulled his knife out and locked his door.

  Their muffled voices became clearer as they drew closer.

  “It’s right here Pa. See? Jus like I was sayin!” the shorter one exclaimed.

  Cale shook his head in disappointment and slouched deeper in the seat.

  “Apparently they didn’t understand your threat,” observed Zach. “You going to hold true to your word?”

  Cale thought about it a moment. “No.”

  Pa ignored his son’s observations and continued walking. The boy continued to plead as they moved past the cab of the truck. The man walked with determination.

  “But the stories Pa?” Bobby tried to reason with his father.

  “Those was jus made up, boy. They was tryin to git a rise outta ya,” retorted Pa.

  “Can’t we jus go back an forgit bout him?”

  “Forgit him?” the man turned to his son and shouted. “Ya said ya seen food in his bag! We won’t last the winter without food!”

  “But Pa—” the boy tried to argue.

  “But nothing! We could use that rifle of his! An your mama is starving!” scolded Pa.

  “Pa, that thing ain’t Mama! Mama is dead!” Bobby shouted back defiantly.

  “What was that?” The man moved himself only inches from his son’s nose.

  Bobby attempted to back up but his father followed.

  “Sh-she ain’t sick, Pa. She’s d-dead,” Bobby’s face cringed in preparation for what came next.

  The man struck his son in the face angrily. The boy attempted to guard his face but the attack persisted. Soon Bobby collapsed to the ground, utilizing the fetal position for protection. Pa began furiously kicking him, only stopping after he was winded. He huffed heavily as he stood over the boy.

  “Your mama ain’t dead!” Saliva spewed from his mouth as he screamed. “She’s sick! Now git your ass up, boy and help me find that son of a bitch.”

  Bobby whimpered meekly. “Yes, sir.”

  Pa started walking again and Bobby scurried to his feet and after him. He trailed about five paces behind his father. Cale sat up and watched them leave. When they were no longer in view, Cale went into action, checking the ignition and searching the glove box.

  “What’re you doing?” asked Zach.

  “Keys,” replied Cale. “I need a ride.”

  The glove box yielded no results.

  “Try the visors,” suggested Zach.

  Cale flipped both driver and passenger sun visors down. Nothing.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  He pivoted out of the driver’s seat to enter the sleeper, but stopped midway. He looked out the passenger window, past Zach. Five “blobs” shambled in his direction.

  “What?” inquired Zach, turning to see what Cale was looking at.

  He could see the undead through the fogged window too. Pa’s little tantrum had drawn them out of slumber and now they wanted breakfast. He couldn’t hide here. They’d smell him. Cale quickly entered the sleeper, packed his gear, put it on, and jumped out of the semi. He slammed the door behind him. He walked around the front of the semi and checked on the infected. The five were about fifteen yards from him, and a few more had appeared further out.

  “I fucking hate that guy,” Cale referred to Pa.

  He held his rifle at the low ready and proceeded to walk further into town.

  “You’re not going to deal with them?” asked Zach sounding confused.

  “Saving ammo,” Cale replied without turning around.

  Hungry moans followed him. The infected behind him jerked violently, fighting the decay of their own bodies, to keep up with him. For now he could outwalk them, but he’d have to lose them before they attracted more. Dry leaves littered a road overrun with weeds that had grown through every crack and crevice. Mother Nature was reclaiming that which was always hers. Mankind was only renting the space. Now the lease was up.

  He arrived at the next intersection and assessed the damage the three vehicles had sustained. A grey Cadillac was T-boned by an old rusted out Chevy, which had been rear ended by a two-door Saab. The mummified corpse of the Saab’s owner was still belted in and slumped ov
er the steering wheel. He or she must have died on impact. Every manner of animal had eaten away sections of skin and clothing. The car’s front end was severely crippled. Cale checked out the Chevy. The driver’s door was open, and other than the cracked windshield and the bent bumpers, its frame looked intact. The truck’s interior smelled like urine and feces. Mud stained the cotton seat cover.

  Cale reached for the keys.

  “Yes,” he said excited.

  He gripped the key and rolled it forward. Nothing. Not even the faintest sound to indicate the potential for life.

  “Fuck,” cursed Cale.

  He looked back to check on the status of his pursuers. Rotted faces swayed back and forth with blackened teeth chomping.

  “Better hurry,” Zach suggested.

  Cale still had a few minutes. He’d take care of them if he had to, but he heeded his hallucination’s advice. Since the Chevy was crammed into the grey Cadillac’s driver’s side, he approached the open door on the passenger side. The keys were in the ignition but it was already in the “On” position.

  “Great,” Cale said angrily hitting the dash with his fist.

  A sound in the back seat startled him, then something charged him as he backed out. Cale held his breath as he got out of the way and looked down the sights of his weapon. The creature took a defensive stance on the seat. It looked like a short grey bandit.

  “Raccoon,” Cale assured himself.

  Four raccoon pups popped their heads over the back seat and cried for their mother. She hissed at him loudly. Cale backed away slowly. The ride was obviously dead and occupied. The undead that followed him were at the back of the Chevy. Part of him wanted to close the Cadillac door to protect the mother raccoon and her babies, but he’d heard how vicious they could be in the presence of their young.

  “Sorry,” he said to the little bandit who hissed again.

  Cale cautiously turned and walked away, avoiding sudden movements. When he was sure he was far enough away, he increased his pace to a jog. The street ahead didn’t reveal any potential prospects. He’d have to stay on the road if he wanted to find a vehicle. But he’d run the chance of coming across Pa and Bobby again. Not that they were the threat. But if Pa was still shouting indiscriminately, he’d be stirring up every dormant infected along the way. Cale wondered if perhaps he was doing it on purpose. It was unlikely. He didn’t seem that smart.