Zompoc Survivor: Odyssey

by Ben Reeder

  A boy about Amy’s age was standing on the front porch with a double barreled shotgun in his hands, looking us over with a frown on his face. Off to the south side of the house, I could see a dog on a chain that was connected to a tree. A circle of dirt marked his territory, and he sat looking at us from the edge of his domain. When we got out of the truck, his tail thumped in the dirt behind him a few times, then went still. Del came around the truck and gestured for the boy to come over.

  “This is Tad, he’s my oldest,” he said as the boy approached. Tad was a wider version of his father, with plenty of baby fat still rounding out his cheeks and a sullen, almost drowsy look about him. He stuck out a hand and clamped onto mine with an almost painful grip. “Tad, this is Dave.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said with a smile that didn’t make me think he was.

  “That’s quite a grip you have,” I said as I extricated my hand from his clutches. His hand wasn’t soft, but hard work wasn’t something he seemed to be as familiar with as his father.

  “He’s gonna grow up to be stronger than his dad,” Del said with a smile.

  “You said he was your oldest?” I said.

  “His brother and sister are at their lessons,” Penny offered as she and Amy came up. “They struggle with math and English, especially his sister. But, what can you expect of a girl?” Her laugh was a staccato sound, almost a nervous reaction to her own attempt at humor. “But, she needs to master the basics to help run the farm.”

  “I hope we’ll get to meet them later,” I said. “This is my daughter Amy,” I said as she stepped up beside me.

  “Hi,” Tad said as he stepped up close to her and held his hand out. “I’m Tad.”

  “I heard,” she said as she took his hand to shake it. Instead, he pulled it up to his face and did a clumsy job of kissing the back of her hand.

  “You can take your guns off,” Del said with a smile. “There’s no zombies left out this way, unless some wander in from the road. Tad killed about thirty of ‘em, and I did for the rest. Besides, guns in the house make the little lady nervous.” He laughed, and Penny ducked her head with a smile.

  “Sure, Del,” I said, letting my Missouri accent creep a little further into my voice. “We’ll just toss them in the truck.” Amy followed me to the rear of the truck, wiping the back of her hand against her pant leg as she went. I opened the back up and undid my assault vest.

  “Are you sure about this?” she said softly as I unbuckled the gun belt.

  “Not exactly,” I admitted. “But I’m not hearing banjo music.”

  “Me, either,” she said as she undid the holster on her hip. “I’m getting more of the creepy stalker vibe. Especially off of Don Juan over there.” I chuckled at the barb and eyed the black utility vest I’d lifted from the deputy’s cruiser, wishing I could find an excuse to put it on.

  “You and me both,” I said. “Rule eight and rule twelve definitely apply here.”

  “I’m thinking all of them from four through nine are in play,” she said as she slipped her little .22 revolver into the cargo pocket on her right leg. I tucked the holster for the revolver into my waist band and pulled my shirt out to cover it.

  “How many guns have you got?” Tad asked as he came along the side of the truck.

  “A couple each,” I said as his eyes went wide at the array of firearms. “Most of it is side arms, though.” We slid our gear into the bed of the truck and closed the tailgate and the camper shell up. Both of us still had at least two knives visible, but I also knew Amy had a ZT Spike hidden away on her somewhere. Again, I felt that naked sensation of being unarmed and every step away from the truck and my sword made my palms itch. Tad escorted us inside and set his shotgun in a rack on the wall beside the front door. He led us to the front room and invited us to have a seat. A couch and a love seat made an L on one side of the room, while two recliners sat on either side of a table with a lamp that stuck up from the back of it. A pair of bookshelves sat on either side of the doorway we came in through, and a dormant television sat under one of the windows. A broad fireplace took up the far wall, and thick rugs covered the hardwood floor in the open space between the seating arrangements. The TV, once the center of the room, was now on the outskirts.

  “Polly!” Del bellowed. “Get down here and help your mother with lunch!” As the sound of footsteps came closer, Penny stepped into the room with a pitcher of tea and some glasses on a tray.

  “Would you like some tea while you wait?” she asked. “I’m sorry there’s no ice, we just use it to for storage.” She poured a glass and handed it to Tad, who took it and sat down on the love seat without a word. Then she offered Amy and me a glass. Maya would have been proud of her girl as she smiled and offered the woman a sweet “Thank you!” I followed her example with a little more reserve.

  Tad patted the love seat beside him and said “Take a load off your feet,” his gaze on Amy. She nodded to him and sat on the couch. For a moment, I considered sitting next to Tad to mess with him, but instead I sat next to Amy and took a sip of my tea. It was a little bitter with just a hint of honey to it.

  “So, how many zombies have you killed?” Tad asked me as his father walked into the room with a glass of tea in his hand. “I’ve killed thirty three.” I hesitated, debating on whether I should play the game or let him have his pride. Not wanting to wound his ego, I shook my head.

  “I haven’t really been counting,” I said, which was partly true. I hadn’t been in a position to keep track of zombie kills, usually because most times that I ended up fighting them recently, it had been against nearly overwhelming numbers of the damn things.

  “So far, the best guess is about three hundred and fifty,” Amy said. I did a double take and felt like my jaw was sliding halfway down my chest.

  “Total?” I asked without thinking. She nodded with a smug grin on her face.

  “Yep,” she said. “Guns and sword. And that was before the night we left KC.”

  “Who the hell was keeping track of that?”

  “Everyone,” she said. “Willie had a hundred and eighty, Kent was right behind him with one-seventy-five.”

  “You were in Kansas City?” Del asked.

  “No way,” Tad said. “The radio said Kansas City burned to the ground.” His tone was challenging, and he looked more than a little put out.

  “It was on fire, but it hadn’t burnt to the ground, at least not as of a couple of days ago.” I gave them a very abridged version of our trip so far, leaving out my brushes with Keyes and the DHS, and glossing over the details of our run in and escape from the Disciples of the Anointed. By the time I was done, even Tad had lost a little of the dejected look on his face. Del had shown a lot more interest in the story, and had asked a few questions that I’d had to dodge as I went along.

  “Lunch is done,” Penny said from the doorway to the dining room as I told him about the road out of the city. We followed Del and Tad in to find five place settings at the table and several covered dishes.

  “Are we going to get to meet your other two kids?” she asked. Penny shook her head and let out a long suffering sigh.

  “I’m afraid not today,” she said. “They haven’t been behaving very well since things…changed. Tad handled it much better, but Polly and Will are just so difficult. They’re having lunch in their rooms.”

  “I’ll go up and handle things a little later on,” Del said somberly, and Penny nodded. “But let’s go ahead and eat first.” I tried to keep my face neutral as we sat down and Del asked his son to say grace. Not seeing the other two kids just added to the creepy feeling that had settled at the base of my neck, but it wasn’t enough to really do anything with. Tad recited a short blessing over the meal, and all our heads came up after he said “Amen.” The dishes were uncovered to reveal chicken, mashed potatoes and corn, with a loaf of brown bread and a crockery bowl with butter in it. It certainly seemed like there was plenty to go around, and we dug in. Penny’s cooking was
a welcome change to my half-assed campfire culinary skill, and while it was a little plain, it was, like most meals I’d eaten in the last two weeks, delicious in a way very little had been since I’d come back from Iraq.

  “Dave and Amy just came from Kansas City,” Del offered from the head of the table as the initial onslaught of the food died down. “Seems the roads south of here are pretty clear, except for some raiders down near Topeka.” Across from me, Penny’s face became a little more animated.

  “Maybe we can go check on your brother’s place,” she said. Del’s expression clouded a little at that, but he nodded.

  “I also want to head down to the seed co-op and see if I can find some wheat and corn to plant for next year. This year’s sorghum crop’ll see us through the winter, but I’m going to get mighty tired of the taste of it by spring.”

  “I was wondering if you knew of any National Guard units in the area,” I asked.

  “Well, there’s the big base out in Omaha, but I don’t think anyone would want to go there,” Del said after a moment’s thought. “Our neighbor used to report to Lincoln, but that’s another big city, and even the government says to leave them alone.”

  “What about that place west of here?” Penny asked. “Remember, my brother used to go there for a couple of weeks every summer.”

  “Hastings,” Del supplied. “And I think there’s a unit out of Grand Island, too.” Conversation turned to small talk after that. In the post zombie world that included where zombies were likely to be found and how winter might affect them. Amy and I took turns explaining about the different kinds of ghouls we’d encountered in Kansas City, though we left out the less appetite killing details as I dolloped out some of the sorghum molasses and mixed it with butter to sop up with my bread. Amy followed my example with a doubtful look on her face until she took her first bite. After that, she didn’t utter a word until her plate was clean.

  “Dave, you mentioned doing some trading,” Del said as he leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you and I do some bargaining.” Everyone got up from the table, and I grabbed my plate to take it into the kitchen.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Penny said as she took the plate from me. “I’ll take care of it. You fellows go talk business.” As I relinquished my hold on the plate, I half heard Tad asking Amy if she’d like to see his motorbike. I turned her way in time to see her shrug and agree. Del led me back through the front room and out onto the porch.

  “So, what do you two need?” he asked me as we stood watching the two teens walk toward a path in the trees to the north.

  “Aside from cooking lessons from your wife, the first thing I’d like to get is some gas if you have any to spare,” I said. “Fresh food is always welcome, and I wouldn’t mind some of that sorghum molasses, either. I have about a hundred and twenty rounds for that M14 of yours in six magazines, and we could spare a few rounds of twelve gauge for that double barrel scattergun your boy was carrying.”

  We settled down for some serious haggling at the tailgate of the truck, and I ended up throwing in one of the two bottles of Johnny Walker Black Label I’d picked up on the way out of KC. Amy and Tad walked up as we were nailing down the specifics.

  “Dad gave me the shotgun when we first heard about the problems in Omaha,” Tad was saying as they came closer. “I’ve been protecting the farm since the first zombies showed up.” He tried to make it sound casual, like shooting zombies was no big thing.

  “Dave gave me his Ruger when we crashed in Kansas City,” Amy said as she pulled her vest toward her. “And he gave me this while we were trying to get out of the hospital.” She pulled the nine millimeter Browning out of her vest and dropped the magazine into her other hand, then pulled the slide back and locked it into place before turning it over in her hand and handing it to Tad butt first. The whole process had taken less than five seconds, and she’d handled the pistol like a pro. Tad’s brows crowded together over his nose as he took the gun from her.

  “Aren’t you afraid this is a little too much gun for you?” he asked as he looked it over. He missed the warning she gave him with the irritated Spock brow lift. “I mean, a twenty two is fine for a girl, but anything bigger than that…” he let the sentence trail off as she took the gun from him and let the slide pop forward before she slammed the magazine into the butt. She grabbed her vest and stalked off, leveling a cold glare at Tad.

  “What’s her problem?” he asked as he joined his father on the porch.

  “She prefers to be treated like an equal,” I said calmly. Father and son laughed for a moment, and I bit my tongue as Penny brought out the boxes with the vegetables and three jars of molasses. Tad followed us over to the garage, and helped Del pump five gallons of gas into the jerry can I’d taken from the truck. Once I had that loaded, I looked up at the sky as if to gauge how much daylight I had left, then went to the cab of the truck and pulled out my cache tube. I retrieved five of the ten silver ounces I had stashed in it and tucked them into my pocket, then whistled to get Amy’s attention.

  “Get me out of here before I put a bullet in Captain Chauvinist,” she muttered under her breath when she trotted up.

  “Just one more piece of business,” I said softly. “Unless you don’t want me to trade for any books.” She bit her lower lip and took a sharp breath, then grimaced and nodded.

  “They do have those two bookshelves,” she said. We turned and headed back for the porch.

  “So, Del, I was wondering,” I said as we climbed the steps, “would you be willing to trade a few books?”

  “If I thought I could get away with a second bottle of whiskey in the house, I’d trade you a whole shelf full of ‘em,” he said with a laugh. “But the wife won’t have it. If you’ve got something else to trade, though, I wouldn’t mind letting some go.” By way of answer, I reached into my pocket and pulled out two of the round coins.

  “Well, I have a little silver,” I said as I opened my hand.

  “What’s that other one?” Tad demanded. I looked down and bit off a curse. Instead of two silver rounds, I’d pulled out the Special Forces challenge coin Captain Adams had given me along with one of the one ounce coins. I slipped it back into my pocket and pulled out another silver round.

  “It’s a challenge coin,” I said. “Got it from some soldiers I helped out back in Springfield.” Tad seemed like he was still oblivious, but Del’s eyes were on me with a little more intensity than I would have liked. “So, you interested in a trade?”

  “Sure,” he said slowly. “Say, two books for one of those silver coins?”

  “Make it three and you have a deal,” I countered.

  “Three paperbacks. A hardback book counts as two.” I pretended to think it over then nodded like I wasn’t exactly happy about it. He led us inside and gestured toward the two bookshelves. Pretty much every Louis L’Amour book I could think of was on the shelf at eye level, plus a long line of Zane Grey novels shared space with copies of the Farmer’s Almanac on the shelf below that. The bottom shelf held a few surprises, some old school science fiction and fantasy and one thick Reader’s Digest Condensed Book from 1974. I grabbed the Reader’s Digest book, a Conan title and a novel by H Beam Piper called The Fuzzy Files. Amy came over to me with a forced smile on her face and held out four books for consideration while I handed her my picks. She’d gone for the classics with To Kill A Mockingbird and Treasure Island mixed in with Sherlock Holmes and Little Women. I looked over at her with a frown. Of the four titles she had handed me, only Sherlock Holmes would have had any interest for her, since she would have imagined Holmes looking like Benedict Cumberbatch. She shrugged at my look, then waved toward the shelf.

  “I wasn’t sure what was good,” she said with a pained look on her face. “Could you look and make a few suggestions for me when I get back?” I nodded and headed for the shelf on the right of the door as she asked Del where the bathroom was. She made her way out of the front room and I set the four books on the top shelf, t
hen started looking over the books. My eyes roamed across the titles, then stopped at the end of the row on the top shelf. Tucked in beside an old Bible was a title I had only heard horror stories about, one I’d hoped never to see: The Obedient Child, by David Bethlehem. Bethlehem’s methods were harsh, and more than one child abuse case had come from people using them. If I knew Amy, she wasn’t in the bathroom, she was snooping, looking for confirmation of what she suspected was going on. As one part of my brain speculated on what might happen, I pulled two of the books Amy had handed me off the stack and set them aside. My attention was only half on the books in front of me, though I managed to find one other book I thought Amy would like.

  The sound of a blow came to my ears, but it was Amy’s voice that cried out in pain, and Penny who started yelling. I ran for the stairs as another blow sounded, and someone fell to the floor. When I reached the top of the stairs, I found Penny scrambling to her feet with Amy a few feet down the darkened hall from her. A three foot length of plumbing tube dangled from Penny’s right hand, and she brought her arm back as she got to her feet.

  “Brat!” she screeched as she started to swing. Amy stepped forward as she brought her left arm up to take the blow and Penny doubled over with a violent gasp. She went to straighten again, and when her arm came back again, I grabbed her by the wrist.