“Ahh… but life is full of little compromises, isn’t it?” The words were slow, spilled like rotten honey from his lurid smile. This was just a fix, after all. He’d have a better game to play soon enough.
Soon enough. He let the words echo in his mind a thousand times even as he put his blade to work, every cut singing it back to him in morbid harmony.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
It felt like she had only just fallen asleep when Natalie felt a tapping at her shoes. Out of violent reflex, her foot lashed out awkwardly as she tried to get her crowbar into a fighting position. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to sleep without it in her hands; the cool metal helped to calm her down, like a bloody security blanket for the new age.
“Easy, Natalie. Easy.” The low rumbling tone quickly gave away her supposed attacker’s identity. Natalie let out a heavy sigh as she realized it was just BJ letting her know it was time to change watch. She might have felt embarrassed about her reaction, especially since she’d done virtually the same thing to Rico the other day, but BJ seemed to actually approve of her aggressive response.
“It’s good to stay ready. If I had been bad news, you might have saved your life.” He paused, tilting his head in thought before adding, “Assuming you wouldn’t have just been killed in your sleep.” The extra sentence almost made her laugh. Thanks for that, BJ. At least I know you’ll always be honest.
It suddenly made a lot of sense that she only ever saw the men wake each other up with taps at their boots. Anything else ran a high chance of getting hurt, and given the danger they were always in, it wasn’t exactly a behavior you’d want to discourage.
Adjusting her eyes to the dim light that BJ had left on, she noted Rico wrapped tightly in his gear in the corner, fast asleep. She had no doubt that if she touched him he’d bolt awake, and she felt a spat of envy at his ability to rest, even now.
Checking on Marco sobered her attitude considerably. His eyes were open, and his face screamed exhaustion. It looked like his brain had completely checked out, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Natalie locked eyes with BJ and cocked her head in Marco’s direction, but the old bear only responded with a small sigh.
BJ was worried, and Natalie couldn’t blame him. Even if Marco wasn’t infected, he clearly wasn’t doing very well in the meantime. Whatever the case, BJ didn’t give her any more time to think about it.
“You’ll stand watch for three hours. If you hear anything, and I mean anything, you tap the boot. You don’t open the door, you don’t investigate, you don’t wait for another sound.” BJ wasn’t even looking at Natalie as he spoke, his attention dedicated to readying his gear for sleep.
“When your watch is up, wake Rico and get another few hours of sleep. Clear?” He finished his speech and his preparation for sleep simultaneously, all with an air of practice as if he had done this exact same thing a thousand times. Natalie started to nod her head before realizing she had one small problem.
“I don’t have a watch or anything, I… how do I tell the time?” It was a question that made her feel foolish, and she wasn’t proud for having to ask it, but she did need an answer. She wasn’t even sure how BJ had measured the hours that passed, for that matter. Any tactic she could think of involved being outside, and he wouldn’t have risked leaving the room just to figure out what time it was.
BJ chuckled to himself, which elicited a sigh of defeat from Natalie. Wonderful. Great Mr. Badass Survivor over there probably just sniffed the air and said, “Yes, yes of course, the wind tells me all that I must know.”
Natalie’s sarcastic thoughts were interrupted as BJ reached over to put something in her hand. She had to blink a handful of times to try and process what she was looking at, but the answer never seemed to change. It was a stopwatch, plastic and dented. The thing probably cost a handful of dollars at the most.
...oh. That’s… remarkably normal. Natalie wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. It was good to know even BJ wasn’t that absurdly capable, but at the same time, it would have been impressive if he had been able to magically divine the time.
Whatever the case, Natalie wasn’t able to wipe the bemused expression off her face before BJ noticed, and he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder in response. She wasn’t sure what had caused the sudden mood swing, but it was obvious something had changed. There was an aura of grim finality on his face, and Natalie felt like she was about to be given some very bad news.
“Natalie.” He took a moment to compose himself, and her heart sank a little further. BJ had yet to show this much emotion candidly, and the feeling of impending danger escalated. She had no idea what this could be about, until she remembered their deal.
He was going to tell her what he suspected about the soldiers who had died here, and what had really happened at the gas station. BJ sighed heavily, seemingly ready to speak, and Natalie tried to brace herself for the horrible truth. The room was filled with palpable tension as BJ finally stated, in an utterly flat tone, “I didn’t use the watch.”
Natalie’s attention was glued to his face, ready to hear the most terrible facts she would ever be given. What she got instead was so completely out of the blue that she didn’t know how to handle it.
The look of apprehension plastered over BJ’s features disappeared in an instant, replaced with a glimmer in his eye that was vaguely reminiscent of a mischievous child.
For her part, Natalie couldn’t understand what had just happened. Even with all of the logic in her head saying that it was impossible, everything on hand seemed to suggest that this giant professional had just punked her.
Natalie’s dumbfounded state was cut short as BJ flicked her on the nose, and any semblance of trying to fathom what was going on was thrown out the window. BJ was smiling smugly to himself, but Natalie had all but given up on trying to piece together the purpose of his behavior. Instead, she offered him a shrug of loss, as if to convey how far behind she was on playing this game.
“I’m preparing you. There’s no way of telling what you’re going to encounter before this is all over, and you need to be ready to respond to anything, even the absurd. I did something unexpected, and while you tried to understand it, I took action.” He brought his hand near Natalie’s face again, hovering it in front of her. She could see a myriad of scars and callouses crossing every direction, a subtle reminder that he was accustomed to a rough life.
“All I did was touch you; someone or something else may not have been so kind.” BJ’s voice had resumed its usual candor, but Natalie shook her head. She wasn’t buying it.
“Oh, of course, Sensei. Please, teach me more of your mystical ways.” What he said made enough sense, and she recognized that. She was also very aware that the spark of shenanigans was shining through BJ’s staunch demeanor. Whatever lesson he had been trying to impart to her, his action had also been driven at least in equal parts by a desire to amuse himself.
Natalie’s stern look of sarcasm cracked BJ’s facade, and he allowed himself another chuckle. A nonchalant shrug of his shoulders was the closest thing Natalie could expect to him outright admitting that he was jerking her around, but it was enough. BJ was right to call all of this absurd. Natalie joined his laughter for a moment, appreciating the slight release of stress in her chest, and BJ wagged a finger at her.
“Honestly, there were two lessons for you. The first still holds true, even if my means of teaching it was… a little weak.” Natalie interrupted his speaking with a snort and cocked eyebrow. BJ’s lips cracked into a small smile as he bowed his head to her, conceding her point that he may be giving himself a tad too much credit. Natalie rolled her eyes, her amusement plain on her face, before gesturing for him to continue.
“The second lesson is simple, and one that most people forget they already know. These moments of laughter, small as they may be, are important. Everybody needs to take a second now and again to smile. Sometimes, it’s all we can do to take the edge off the shitshow we’re plowin
g through.” He had the shadow of a smirk on his face, but it was more the awkward look that she had grown accustomed to expecting from BJ than the genuine article. Hoping she might be able to eke out one last laugh, she put on her best face.
“You know, you sounded just like an old 90s sitcom for a minute there. Right up until you said shitshow, anyway. I don’t remember Uncle Jesse ever slipping that past the censors.” BJ’s stifled guffaw confirmed that she had succeeded. As he shook his head quietly in mirth, she reached forward and flicked him solidly on the chin. Before he could respond, she nodded sagely.
“Next time, I may not be so kind.” She did her best to impersonate BJ’s lecturing tone, and the reaction it earned was more than she expected. BJ’s expression shifted from stunned to immensely pleased in a heartbeat, and he slammed his hand down heartily on her back.
It was meant to be a show of approval, but Natalie couldn’t refrain from equating the experience to the feeling of being punched by a particularly angry bear. It wasn’t an event she had actually experienced, but the bruise forming between her shoulder blades seemed more than enough to convince her that she wasn’t far from the truth.
Meanwhile, as she tried to get some air back in her lungs, BJ had regained his composure and seemed ready to continue. Natalie almost regretted her actions, but the lasting glint of happiness on BJ’s face reassured her that the pain was worth it. They still had important matters to discuss, and Natalie had little doubt they’d be back to their serious attitude much faster than she’d have liked.
“That was good, Natalie. And it brings me to lesson three: no one is prepared all the time. There is always a flaw to exploit, no matter how seasoned you or your enemies are.” BJ rubbed at his chin where Natalie had tagged him, his expression thoughtful in the dull light.
Stereotypical as it was to Natalie, she did appreciate her growing student-teacher relationship with the man. It felt good to learn from someone as capable as BJ, but it wasn’t without its drawbacks.
Natalie had spent a lot of time with stories all throughout her life, and that immersion had left certain impressions on her. Frequently she’d find herself assuming the world would play out like her fiction did; in this case, that meant the teacher in her student-teacher relationship would be killed so she could take his place and fulfill her destiny.
Realistically, she would be the one to die due to her rookie mistakes. Even in that case it would remain a cliché; the master would be forced to avenge his pupil’s death and learn to overcome his own sense of failure. Either way, to Natalie, the whole thing seemed dangerous.
The rational aspects of her mind reminded her that she was giving undue credit to the real life applications of fantasy novels, but when you’ve seen the same premise play out a million times, it can get stuck in your head. Whether it was a fair thing to believe or not, Natalie was convinced that either she or BJ would be dead before this was all over.
Natalie’s mood had gone from cheery to dreary with such speed that she was almost impressed. She drew a silent comparison to being a sullen teenager in a dry attempt to make herself feel better, before realizing all she had done was accidentally remind herself that nearly every person under sixteen or seventeen were dead. She winced, trying to find a subject that didn’t make her feel like curling into a ball. In her preoccupied state, she didn’t notice BJ had shifted his attention back to her.
“Great. Something soured your mood so I don’t have to.” He motioned for Natalie to take her post at the door while he sat down by his gear. “I need sleep if I want to avoid getting killed tomorrow, but before that, we had an agreement.” By the time Natalie had taken her seat, BJ was in a very different state of mind, and it was displayed clearly on his face. There was no playful joke to surprise her this time. Whatever came next was not going to be as pleasant as the last few minutes had been.
“If you wanted to back out, now would be the time to do it. Most folks don’t know what is really happening out here, and I promise you, they sleep better at night. Last chance.” He was giving Natalie an opportunity to let the undead dog lie, but her unwavering stare was enough to convince BJ that she stood firm in her choice. Without any further pressing, he bobbed his head and began to speak.
“The two outposts, where we’re staying now and the gas station, they’re not the only ones that we’ve lost.” Reaching into his backpack, BJ produced a sizeable map of the area. On it, dozens of red X’s were scattered around without discernible pattern.
“Before we went on survivor detail, me and the boys were an investigative team, of sorts. If a building went silent, we got sent out. At first, it was usually something simple: a faulty wire had cut comms, or their generators had run short on fuel so they’d lost power.” As he spoke, he pointed out a few notes written in the margins of the map, some having been crossed out and replaced with updated information.
Each one seemed to denote a time, place, and problem. BJ’s handwriting was uniform and tidy, but many of the places where his words had been rewritten were struck through with lines that were angry and uneven. It wasn’t hard to understand why; any note that had been marked off was replaced with a simple Post eliminated/No survivors, followed by more precise details concerning the scene.
Judging by the number of lost bases, it was a growing problem. BJ had stopped speaking, allowing Natalie to pour over the map for herself, and what she found gave good reason to be paranoid.
If BJ’s notes were accurate, and Natalie had no reason to believe they weren’t, then an outpost would be wiped out roughly every five days. Scanning more of the marks, she realized that she had made a mistake. Not roughly every five days, exactly every five days. Like clockwork.
It wasn’t news that there was a method to the madness; there had been countless signs already that somebody was responsible for all of this, behind the scenes. What was disturbing were the details written beside each lost outpost.
Some of the earliest losses were written off as being zombie attacks; a reasonable thing to happen during the apocalypse, and certainly not a surprise. As time went on, however, a growing number of more calculated strikes appeared. Instances like the apartment they now found themselves in, where the murder that had taken place was simply too clean to be the work of the undead.
Even worse, according to the five-day schedule that seemed to be established, what should have been “random” losses to the zombies appeared to be calculated. It was one thing to recognize that the rise of the walking dead had been orchestrated, but it was something else entirely to read implications that they were being controlled somehow.
December 15th, Outpost 4, Post eliminated/No survivors, undead presence likely.
December 20th, Outpost 18, Post eliminated/No survivors, undead presence likely.
December 25th, Outpost 23, Post eliminated/No survivors, human sabotage likely. Merry Christmas, Jacob. I’m sorry.
Natalie felt a pang of sorrow as she read BJ’s notes, his calm writing showing a sudden unsteady shake on the 25th. She didn’t know who Jacob was, but he had evidently meant something to BJ. Beside her, the giant of a man rumbled back to life, shifting the map toward him again.
“There are two patterns at work here. One is bad news, and the other is very bad news.” Natalie expected a sudden demand for her to explain what the patterns were and what they meant, but BJ didn’t seem to be in the mood to test her. Instead, he ran his finger down the line of notes, then traced it from X to red X on the map.
“The types of attack aren’t consistent, but how often they occur is. That shouldn’t be possible unless there is somebody out there who knows how to command the horde.” Natalie nodded along at that, having reached the same conclusion.
“I thought so, too. The only advantage we have over them is that we’re supposed to be smarter. Take that away, and we’re boned.” Even as the word came out, Natalie was biting down on her tongue in an attempt to stop herself. It hadn’t been intentional, but she thought it might be best to try an
d end her statement with something that could shift BJ’s focus away from her less-than-impressive vocabulary.
“Calling that ‘really bad’ might be a bit of an understatement though, doncha think?” It was a sheepish addition, one that Natalie hoped would be enough to at least make the man smirk. Instead, BJ slowly shook his head, lofting a growling sigh as he did.
“That’s not the worst part. Knowing that they’re being controlled is a double-edged sword; it means they’re more dangerous, but it also means we might have an opportunity on our hands.” He tapped a finger at his temple, and Natalie understood that he was back to expecting her to fill in the blanks. Thankfully, this was a simple puzzle.
“If somebody else is able to give them orders, then maybe we could, too.” It wasn’t a thought that offered much solace, considering they were dealing with a phantom opponent who possessed infinitely more complicated technology than anything Natalie had ever heard of, but BJ was right. Even if it wasn’t much, it was an opportunity that was better than nothing.
Any remote feelings of satisfaction Natalie may have gleaned from that thought were crushed as she remembered there was still another problem they had to address. Meanwhile, BJ had resumed his tracing on the map, occasionally pausing to read his reports.
“The real issue is that the time between attacks is the only pattern there appears to be. Whether it was a human or zombie doesn’t really matter if you start thinking they’re working together. What does matter is trying to piece together why certain outposts were targeted, and where the next assault will be staged.”
BJ hadn’t looked up from the map as he spoke, and his tone had taken on a far-off quality that suggested he was more speaking aloud to himself than to Natalie. Squeezing closer to the map, she understood his confusion.
The buildings that were hit didn’t seem to follow any rhyme or reason. They were scattered everywhere, from the furthest outskirts to the deep center of the militarized zone. The importance of the facilities varied widely, as well. A major restocking station was just as likely to be raided as a minor survivor rally point. BJ’s brow was furrowed in intense contemplation, but to Natalie, there seemed to be an obvious answer.
The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire Page 12
