by Joshua Guess
A glimpse was all he needed. The man stalking him carried an assault rifle and moved with the deliberate step of a trained killer. The weapon was raised to his shoulder, barrel angled slightly toward the ground. Laura, in her constant effort to improve his dismal shooting skills, had trained him the same way. The idea was to compensate for the natural tendency of the barrel to rise while firing when fully automatic.
He didn't have to think about it very long. The world was a dangerous place, and if the man had pure intentions he would have said something. That's what Kell told himself as he rose and drew, releasing the arrow before he was fully standing.
It was a desperation shot, aimed but not properly sighted. The arrow leaped from the bow and would have hit the stalker in the chest had his forearm not been in the way. Kell heard the meaty thud as the bladed head buried itself in the meat, a surprised yelp echoing through the quiet wood.
Kell ducked back down and drew another arrow, ready to risk a second shot before the inevitable gunfire tore through his blind. The first shot rang out as he rose to fire again, but it seemed to have gone wild.
The scene below confused him at first. In a pool of blood and brains, the stalker lay dead. He scanned the woods for another attacker but found nothing, then quickly made his way down the tree.
A few seconds later he heard the pounding crackle of more footsteps, and a voice calling his name. Laura appeared in the distance with a rifle in her hands, held vertically as she wove between the distant boles of trees. Kell waved her down, shouldering his bow.
“Oh, thank god,” she said, seeing the body. “It was a tricky shot. I saw him go down through the scope but wasn't sure where I hit him. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Kell replied. “How did you know to come out here?”
“He stepped on the fishing line we put up. Heard the bell in the house and cut across the woods. Must have followed you in from the path, rather than seeing you come from the house. Good thing you took the long way around today.”
Kell took a slow breath. “That's why I take the long way around. Though I thought it would be a zombie hitting the trip wire, not someone hunting me.”
“We should get moving,” Laura said. “Just in case he brought friends with him.”
Kell crouched next to the dead man, hefting him over his shoulder. “Grab his gun. We'll search him at home and throw him in the pit. Don't want to leave him here. God knows we have enough trouble with zombies already.”
They moved at a fast walk. The body was a burden, but not so much that Kell couldn't keep up. The rear of the house came into view as they cleared the edge of the woods. There was a definite air of the rustic about it; the exterior was all wood, silvered with age but expertly crafted. The front of the house was a single story, set into a hill that dropped away sharply only to flatten out to form the back yard.
Kell picked his way through the yard, carefully avoiding the icy furrows taking up most of the space. Their crops were long since harvested, but the bare ground in their place was uneven and risky to walk on even without a corpse draped over your shoulder.
Next to the house was the pit. Ten feet deep and eight feet across, it represented hours of labor by the three of them. Kell tossed the body on the ground nearby and searched it for gear.
“Kate back from town yet?” Kell asked.
“No,” Laura said. “Her bike isn't here.” She stood vigilant as Kell finished stripping the corpse of valuables. “Strange to think North Jackson has grown so much that we're calling it a town.”
Stretching as he stood, Kell rubbed his lower back. “There's what, two thousand people in there now? So many groups joining up,” he said with a shiver. “More than twice that out here like us, living close. I'm glad we left when we did. Now we're just grains of sand on a beach.”
With an unceremonious shove, Kell booted the dead man into the pit. He went about the business of lighting the pyre with bored indifference. He took wood from the pile and tossied it in, dropping a laundry-basket sized bale of tinder in on top of it, and a liberal dousing of lighter fluid, the kind in the big white bottle he used to grill with, as icing on the cake. He lit a match, the pop and hiss of the phosphorus blaring in the winter stillness, and tossed it in.
“Who do you think he was?” Kell said as he stared at the flames.
“Marauder, I hope,”
“You hope?”
Laura scanned the distance. The sound of gunfire could have drawn the attention of the undead. Or worse, if the corpse blazing in their disposal pit—usually reserved for zombies who wandered too close—had friends who might be looking for him.
“Yeah, because if he was a marauder, it means one of our neighbors didn't decide to start hunting us like animals,” she said.
Kell grunted agreement and gathered the man's possessions. “Let's head in. I'm freezing my ass off.”
“Of course, even assuming he's a marauder, this is still bad.”
He nodded in agreement. “If they're seeing homesteads as viable targets, it won't be long before more of them show up to pick off people like us.”
“Yeah. And we absolutely cannot allow that to happen.”
As bad as it would be for any survivor to deal with sudden attacks by marauders, it would be infinitely worse for them. The reason they'd chosen a home so far from North Jackson was simple. The greater the distance, the more isolated, the less chance there was that someone would stumble across Kell's work.
“I've got a bad feeling,” he said. “Need to think.”
Knowing his habits, Laura smiled.
“I'll be down in the lab,” Kell said.
The basement was divided into only three spaces: on open area at the bottom of the steps that featured a bar and a pool table, a bathroom nestled into one corner of the room, and Kell's lab. The vast room housing his workstations took up half of the floor space, but even so he was considering knocking down a wall.
There were tables everywhere. One wall was lined with shelves stacked with car batteries, a large storage array wired together and fed by the solar panels they'd so carefully installed. The house had a few to begin with, but what they provided wasn't enough.
Even to Kell's eyes, the lab looked like it belonged to a scientist of the 'mad' variety. The equipment, scavenged over many months, ranged from nearly new to so old and haggard it was hard to see any color but rust.
Boxes of supplies rose in perilous stacks, bulk test tubes and slides, and a dozen dozen other tools of the trade. He was only beginning the actual work, and it would be months at least before any real progress would be possible.
Still, he had always done his best thinking in a lab. Not that he had much time to ponder; the sound of the front door slamming announced Kate's return. With a grunt, he pulled himself up from the chair and went to rack up the pool balls.
The ritual was the same every time they had something important to discuss. Kell set up the table, Kate came down and removed some of the armored plates from the windows to let in more light, and Laura filled pitchers with her home-brewed beer.
Kate won the coin toss, so Kell sat back against the bar, sipping a cold mug of beer as he waited to play the winner.
“Laura tells me you guys got the memo,” Kate said as she aimed her breaking shot.
Kell frowned. “What?”
“When I went into town today,” Kate said as she took her next shot, “I listened to a bunch of families talking to the leader of the defense forces about a wave of marauder attacks.”
“Ah, you mean the guy out in the pit,” Kell said.
Kate swore as she missed a tricky bank shot. “Yep. We're not alone. But they aren't just raiding. Two families have had husbands or sons picked off away from home, then moved in real quiet fifteen, twenty minutes later to try to raid the house.”
For a brief moment, her face was haunted by memories. She gave Kell a significant look. “One of those families lost a daughter. She was taken.”
“Goddammit
,” Kell muttered. “This is the last thing we need. I'm not trying to come off as unsympathetic here, but we've just reached a point where I might be able to make some headway on this. If we have to leave and start over...”
Laura grunted at her own missed shot and stepped back from the table. “Yeah, well, this is the here and now. This is happening, and we've obviously been targeted. Do you think now that we've killed one of their people they're likely to just leave us alone? Whether we like it or not, we've only got two choices.”
Laura's eyes blazed. “We can leave and try to start over somewhere else. I don't like the idea of giving up almost a year of work on this place. I also don't like the idea that you'll be put so much more behind in trying to cure this fucking disease.” She frowned. “I really hate knowing these assholes are still out there taking people. Which brings us to option two. We do something about it.”
The following silence was short, but it was one of those kinds of quiet that carries a message all by itself.
“I don't see how we can avoid it. Someone has to do something,” Kell said. “Kate, are the defenders going to send some people out?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but unless they happen by the marauders while they're out here trying to pick someone off, I don't know how they'll find them. You go hunting two, three times a week. Have you seen any sign?”
Kell shook his head. “Not a trace. For that matter, I'm not great at tracking. How the hell are we going to find them?”
Laura and Kate shared a smile. Practical as he might be, they knew once he decided to get involved, Kell would obsess about the plan and insist on making sure it was done right. Which usually meant doing it himself.
With a little help from his friends, of course.
Kate grinned at him, all evidence of old wounds gone from her face. “On that score I actually do have a thought or two. They probably targeted us because there's just one man here, and two women. And as everyone knows,” she said, sidling up to him as Laura pocketed a ball, “us dames need a big strong man to protect us.”
Her arms wrapped tightly around his bicep as she tilted her face toward him and batted her eyes. “Oh, please, sir. Whatever shall we do without you?”
“Find some other poor bastard to beat up, I imagine,” Kell said with a chuckle.
“Well, yeah,” Kate said. “That's kind of the idea, isn't it?”
Laura gestured for Kate to take her shot. “You said you have ideas,” she said, looking at Kate doubtfully. “Care to share them? Because I'm sure we're not the first to think about finding these guys.”
“They've obviously been watching people, casing who they think are the easiest victims,” Kate said. “They'll know something went wrong here when their buddy doesn't show up. The question is whether we think they'll show any loyalty and come for revenge, or if they'll cut their losses and try other targets.”
Kell spoke. “We're talking about this like we know any of the variables. This isn't an easy equation where we can just plug numbers in and see what happens. And you two seem to be forgetting that we're not heroes. None of us are bulletproof. We can't fly. I want to make sure these bastards can't hurt anyone else, but it's going to be dangerous.”
Arms crossed, Kate stood with a hip jutted out to one side in the way all women have of speaking with their entire bodies. “That's a bit rich coming from you.”
Shaking his head, Kell sighed. “It's not the same. The marauders who had you two were barely organized. The conditions were perfect, and I had the element of surprise. Not to mention about a metric ton of amazing luck that I didn't get shot.”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “You made your own luck. You chose the time, made sure there were zombies nearby to respond to the noise, and acted calmly and rationally to hamper your enemy as much as possible.”
“Still...” Kell said, unable to articulate an argument against his own actions.
Laura held out a hand. “Beer me. And look, Kell, we're not going to go into this blind. We'll choose a time to fight, pick our own circumstances as much as possible. We have the element of surprise, too. We can do this.”
“I'm not against doing it,” Kell said. “I'm just saying a lot of things could go wrong. The guy you shot moved like he had some training. Maybe he was a cop. Maybe military. If the rest of his group has any kind of training or discipline, there's every chance they'll see us coming a mile away and just pop us with rifles the way you did this morning.”
Kate and Laura had no response.
He drove the point home. “I don't have to tell either of you how dangerous this is going to be. You both know what the stakes are. You know what can go wrong. I'm willing to do it, and even bring in more people if you think it's a good idea. But I don't know anyone I trust to go out there and not fuck up aside from both of you. It's your call, whatever you want to do.”
Laura only smiled grimly. All the laughter had fallen from Kate's face. She inhaled deeply, as if summoning up her courage.
“I say we go scouting today, see what we can find, and we'll plan from there. Just the three of us.”
Kell and Laura agreed.
“Look over here,” Kell said. “Tire tracks in the snow. Footprints leading right toward my trail.”
The three of them stood a few hundred feet down the road from the place Kell's trail cut away from the asphalt. There were cigarette butts crushed into the ground where the car had been.
“He wasn't alone, then,” Laura observed.
Kell sucked in a breath. “That means they knew pretty fast something happened. I bet they followed his trail and found his blood all over the place. Might have even followed our tracks up to the house.”
“Guys,” Kate said in a carefully controlled tone, “I want you both to make sure you don't react to what I'm about to say. Okay? Pretend nothing is wrong.”
“Sure,” Kell said, Laura nodding.
Kate hunkered down, pretending to examine the tire tracks. “I'm pretty sure we're being watched. Saw a flash of light reflecting off something down the hill. Not many deer out there sporting glass or metal.”
Laura's voice was tense, but her body language didn't show it. “What should we do?”
“I'm going to stand up here in a second. Kell, I want you to put an arm around my shoulder, like you're comforting me.”
With an effort, he kept his confusion from showing. “Uh, why?”
Kate chuckled. “Because one of those ideas I had was making them think we're weak. They know we killed one of their people, but they don't know what the circumstances were. If I can act like a vulnerable, scared little girl, it might encourage them to come for us.”
“Which just sounds awesome,” Kell said sarcastically. “So you want to draw these guys to the house so we can pick them off?”
“Ideally,” Kate said. “Though I'm thinking we'll want to circle around behind this guy if we can and see what direction he takes when he leaves. Now, comfort me, motherfucker.”
Just like the flip of a switch, Kate became someone else. A shudder went through her, as if she were crying. When she stood her body screamed all the signals for defeat. She had slumped shoulders, slow movement, fidgeting hands. Kell stepped in and pulled her close, and she crumpled against him.
“Now, let's start walking back home. We'll take the trail, and once we're sure no one is following one of us can peel off and circle around.”
Laura got into the game, stepping up to the two of them and gesturing as if angry. “Better idea,” she said in an amused tone that didn't match her expression at all. “You two pretend I just yelled at you, and stay here. If someone really is watching, they're more likely to stay where they are if they can see you.”
Laura pointed at the empty spot where the car had been. “Stay here! I'll be back soon, so get your shit together while you wait!” This, she shouted. Kell held back a smile as she stalked away.
The two of them found a spot free of snow on the edge of the pavement, Kell holding Kate close, and they
waited.
After a few minutes they grew bored and started riddling each other. Kell was thinking through an answer—Hold me tight, I'll fall away but cup me gently and I'll always stay. What am I?–when a single gunshot echoed from the direction of their supposed watcher. Both of them reacted identically, training and experience taking over as they threw themselves flat to the ground and worked themselves away from where they could be seen from down the hill.
Kate positioned herself to shoot, her gun appearing in her hands as if by magic. Kell noted with amusement which was both wildly inappropriate in timing and powered by nerves that she seemed totally relaxed. Less than fifteen seconds from the sound of the shot, and he was laying behind her with a knife in hand, tremors going through him while Kate lazily peered down the barrel of her gun as if she were about to pick off tin cans.
Several tense minutes later there was the sound of an engine turning over and the slow crunch of snow and gravel under tires. The car moved in their direction slowly, the noise growing, and Kell readied himself to spring up and give Kate a distraction. Kell cursed himself for leaving his spear at home. It might not make much of a difference in a gun fight, but he had learned hurling six feet of metal at someone's face served as an excellent distraction.
Then the car's horn beeped in a familiar pattern, shave and a haircut. This was followed by a mad cackle instantly recognizable as Laura's victory noise. Kell heard it often enough when she trounced him at the pool table. Which happened exactly as often as they played.
The car, a faded green Taurus, slowly crept over the hill. Laura was in the driver's seat. Next to her sat a man who was in pain, pale and shaking, obvious even from a distance. Laura was driving with one hand, her left. In her right she held a massive handgun, bright and shiny, pressed hard enough against the prisoner's face that his head was shoved into the passenger window.
The Taurus came to a rolling stop in front of them. Laura grinned and shouted, “How much for a good time, ladies?”
The man with the gun to his head didn't laugh.
