by Mike Staton
“Is anyone out there? This is Phoenix Rising in Kentucky. We’re just looking for friendly voices in the dark. Is anyone out there?”
He’d wait for a few seconds before repeating his words. Ian stood near him with a headset on, listening to whatever responses the boy got.
Kat guessed it was nothing more than white noise given the lack of variance in his words. She cleared her throat. The boy jumped, Ian calmly turned to face her.
He looked exhausted; lines of fatigue that had no place on a face that young etched through his countenance. His eyes had shadows beneath them, almost to the point of making him appear to be a member of the undead. “Corporal Holter. It’s good to see you made it back safely.”
She snapped a quick and crisp salute. “Sir.”
“At ease. Have you something to report?”
“I do, sir. Privately?” Kat really didn’t want more eyes than necessary.
Ian glanced at Zack, pulled his headphones off and set them down. “You let me know the instant you hear something.”
Zack nodded. “Is anyone out there? Friendly voice of Phoenix Rising here in Kentucky calling anyone else listening.”
Kat backed up and into the hall, almost right over Hope. Ian followed her and without a word, led the way down the hall. He ducked into an office. He flicked on the light and moved behind the desk. The room had been coopted by Ian for his office, but it’d been Glover’s before him. The walls were decorated with a variety of seeds and planting schedules. As well as a map of places that could be evacuated to. Some of those places were now crossed off.
That likely came from Percival’s intel of the outside world.
Ian sat down at the desk. It was a dark stained, simple creation of wood and lacked electronic blemishes. A large calendar, handful of writing utensils, and a pad of paper were all that decorated it now.
“Miss Lisstal?”
“I hoped to hear what happened.”
“Is there anything critical you need to share?” Ian directed his gaze to Kat.
She shook her head. She knew the ‘critical to share’ meant sensitive and not meant for civilians.
“Come in Miss Lisstal and please close the door behind you. You may have a seat.”
Hope moved into the room and slid the door closed with a metallic bang. She sat down on a folding chair to one side.
“Corporal?”
“I scouted my region. Prosperity Wells is a mess, a massive cluster and I can confirm that we were hit by more than just some massive zombie horde. I… The horde doesn’t string people up in nooses. There was some last stand at the Union and whoever rolled through took the time to string up our leadership.”
That last line produced a shocked gasp from Hope. Kat glanced over her shoulder at the woman.
Hope had one hand over her mouth.
“That’s where I found Percival. He was starin’ at the gallows and let a ghoul walk right up to him and take a chunk out of his shoulder. I shot her, dragged him to safety and continued my reconnaissance.” Kat looked back to Ian and ran through everything she’d seen since rescuing Percival. When she got around to leading the group of survivors from Prosperity Wells she paused for a moment.
She glanced at Hope. “I’m sorry…”
Hope shook her head.
“We came across something new out there.” She looked back at Ian.
He hadn’t moved outside of jotting a few notes on the notepad. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, for her to continue.
“A zombie that acted weird. It vomited at us. Instead of closing and attacking, it hurled a hunk of diseased meat at us. It hit Heidi Smith in the face… And it was accompanied by a small horde. Nothing but shamblers, but I’d not be surprised to see a faster horde actually protect this thing. They only truly attacked after my shot put it down.”
“Could they have been attracted by your shot?” Ian asked.
“Sounds like the ‘spitter’ Percival described,” Hope said at the same time.
Kat glanced her way, licked her lips. Knowing about the spitter beforehand might have spared them, but not likely. She’d not been sure that the zombie in the forest had been a zombie before she’d shot it.
And by then, it’d been too late. If she’d been faster, just a hair, Heidi might still be with them.
“Corporal?”
“Sorry, sir. Lost in my head for a moment.” She shook her head. “They might have been, but I doubt it. They just seemed to become more… active when the spitter hit the ground.”
Ian nodded, wrote something down, and gestured for her to continue.
“We fought with the horde, lost one person to zombie bite and continued on. An hour later, Heidi and I had a quiet talk away from the others and she exercised her option.” Kat closed her eyes and raised a hand to her mouth. She tasted bile for a moment as she remembered pulling the trigger on the young woman as she knelt in front of her.
“Kat… take a moment if you need to.” Ian’s words came across as surprisingly soft.
She nodded without opening her eyes and took several deep breaths, fighting down nausea and fighting back tears. What felt like an eternity later, though was likely only a few seconds, she opened her eyes once more. “I… I was the one who did it.”
Ian nodded once.
“We finished our walk here without further incident.”
Ian jotted a few more lines down on the notepad and set his pencil down. “You’ve done an amazing job.”
“I let people die, sir,” she blurted out without meaning to.
“You’ve done an amazing job.” Ian rose from his chair. In that moment, he looked almost exactly like her Marine colonel. “You’ve brought back to us a number of civilians and helped to secure a foothold. Don’t cut yourself short. This is a harsh world and you’ve done better than most. Two died where 28 lived. That’s on you.”
She looked up at him for a moment.
“Now, go get cleaned up and bunk down. You deserve it.”
“Yes, sir.” Kat snapped a salute that Ian returned and pulled the door open. She stepped into the hallway, closed the door behind her and took a couple steps before she fell against the wall. She let her gaze drift to the ceiling and let out a soft sob.
All the anger and frustration swarmed with a healthy dose of fear and regret. She stifled a second sob, but let her features devolve into anguish for a moment. She let the feelings she’d repressed in the last couple days hit her and stood there in mute silence.
She heard the door to the office open and pushed herself off the wall and turned away.
“Kat?” Hope’s voice drifted her way. “Hey, can I have a moment.”
She didn’t like people. Why did so many want to get close to her and have a moment now? Everything was so much nicer and neater when she only had to be by herself. She let her shoulders sag.
“Sure. What’s up?”
Hope moved closer. “I just wanted to say ‘thank you.’ I know a lot of folk upstairs told that to you, but… I didn’t want to be among mass of faceless people. You know?”
“Sure… You’re welcome.” Kat didn’t turn around. She felt dirty. Just an hour before she’d felt exhilarated under the praise of her fellow Watchmen. Now, with this personal thanks, she felt completely undeserving.
“You were handed a crappy situation and you got most of my friends here. I don’t blame you for Gerry or Heidi’s deaths, you know. You got everyone else here.” Hope stopped just behind Kat. “I… Just know that I’m grateful we have young women such as yourself protecting us. You’re awesome. Thank you.”
Kat nodded once, but didn’t turn around. “You’re welcome, Hope.”
Hope was silent for a little longer. “Alright then. I’ll let you get cleaned up and some rest. I know you deserve it.”
“Thanks,” Kat turned enough to look over her shoulder at Hope as the other woman walked away. “For everything. I mean it, even if it doesn’t sound or seem it. Thank you.”
“If you need
anything…” Hope trailed the offer out there.
“I’ll come ask.” Kat turned and marched down the hallway. Why was everyone suddenly so interested in her? She appreciated Hope’s offer, and Cooper’s offer, for that matter, but… She wanted alone time. Too much time with people led to her stressing out. Time to process.
It’s what she wanted. It’s what she needed.
She pushed into the bathroom. It was small and utilitarian. A grate in the ceiling served as a showerhead, the grate in the floor filtered somewhere she didn’t want to think about. She pulled the door closed and turned the latch. She ran fingers through sticky and blood spattered hair.
She still needed to get it cut back to a reasonable length. She let out a sigh and stripped out of her BDUs. Each layer of gore spattered clothing that came off left her feeling more like a person again. Or more specifically: someone capable of tackling the horrors of the new world.
She stacked the drenched clothing in the opposite corner of the toilet, where it was least likely to get further drenched by the shower, and stepped into the grate.
She pulled a plastic curtain, then reached out and cranked a dial on the wall. The splash of cold water knocked the wind out of her and left her gasping and sputtering.
Of course the water heater would be turned off. Ian was putting every effort into getting their signal as far as possible.
The shower, even cold, served to rinse away the regrets and sins of the day.
Chapter 8
Percival sat up with a soft groan. He hated being sick, and this was the worst. He hadn’t dreamt again, and didn’t feel rested; just slightly less exhausted. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, confused for a moment. The room was a slate grey shed. Light filtered through a gap near the roof and the floor was hard packed dirt. It was large enough to hold, comfortably, four cots. He could see racks and hooks where tools once hung.
The quarantine shed.
The realization came at the same moment as the sound of a bolt ramming home drifted to his ears. His attention focused on the red-tinged brunette with the rifle pointing at him.
“Are you, you?” she asked.
“Yeah… mostly… cotton in my head kind of makes it hard to tell.” Percival relaxed at the same time as… as… Kat. Katherine Holter. The woman who saved him. “What’re you doing here?”
“I agreed to be the one to put Dan down when he turns.” Kat settled her rifle across her lap. She looked distinctly different in jeans, baby-blue shirt, and blue jacket. Her hair looked shorter as well, shorn up several inches from…
“How long have I been out?” Percival rubbed at his temple. The headache didn’t help his concentration. “I… We’re at the farm, right?”
“Just overnight. Since you’re still with us, you’re going to be needed in the farmhouse sooner instead of later.” Kat got up and shifted her chair out of the way so he could leave without going through her.
“How long’s he been out?” Percival glanced at the lumpy form in the other occupied cot. He assumed that was Dan. “I’m being rude… I’m glad you made it here safely.”
“Not everyone made it, unfortunately.” Kat shook her head as though she were casting the dark thoughts out. “Thanks. You’re not rude. And, to finish things in a non-linear order, I don’t know how long he’s been out. All I know is he’s not up in any fashion, and I want to be here when he rises.”
“Will you be alright?” Percival walked toward her and the door.
“Samuel’s right outside. I won’t need him, but he’s there if, IF, I do. Don’t you worry about me. I’m okay.” Her smile looked forced and false.
Percival didn’t push the subject. He just clapped her on the shoulder and pressed through the door and into the bright, morning sunlight. He shielded his eyes from the blasted light until they adjusted. He lowered his hand at the same time as Samuel.
“Morning.”
“Mornin’.” Samuel nodded to him.
“How’re you?” Percival felt odd at the question, as though he shouldn’t be bothering with the pleasantries of ‘normal’ life.
“Honestly?” Samuel’s body relaxed as though a weight had been lifted from his stacked like an ox frame. His dark eyes matched his dark hair and he seemed to be more at ease with using the rifle in his hands as a bat.
While it was difficult to remember for Percival, he wanted to say that Samuel was a pinch hitter for Brown College’s baseball team.
“Yeah, honestly.” Percival slid his hands behind his back. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine. A bit worried, but who ain’t these days?” Samuel looked past Percival for a moment, then brought his focus back.
Percival nodded. “Want to get it off your chest?”
“Veronica, my sister, is out scouting. Hasn’t come back yet.” Samuel chewed his lip, clearly on the verge of saying more, but holding back.
“When did she leave?” Percival prompted.
“Same time as all the other volunteer scouts. Kat included. Wish we’d had your radios back when they went out. Some way of talking with them. Kat’s the first to return.”
The radios from the dealership didn’t have that sort of range. If the scouts were out for multiple days, they’d be out of the range of the radios. Percival didn’t see a reason to point this out. “I understand. I get it. I also assume that she’s at least as competent as Kat if she’s out scouting by herself?”
Samuel nodded. “Likely better. But crappy things happen all the time. I mean, what if she bumped into a horde like the survivors yesterday? Or even a single spitter? I mean, I get now why there was the rule to never go out in less than a pair.”
“I know it doesn’t help much, but I have faith in our Watchmen’s abilities. Doubly so for our scouts and sharpshooters. They’re quick, agile, and damned deadly. Don’t worry, she’s out there and likely taking her time bringing back more scattered survivors from Prosperity Wells.” Percival smiled at him.
“You think?” Samuel asked.
Percival nodded. “Pretty sure. I’m not omniscient, but I’ve got this silly good feeling called hope. Something that I thought had died.”
Samuel nodded. He studied the dirt at his feet.
“Everything’s going to be alright. Be here for her when she gets back.” He clapped the young man on the bicep.
“Thanks, Percival.” Samuel nodded. “I mean it.”
“Mmhm.” Percival waved and turned away to head across the yard toward the farmhouse’s back door. The walk didn’t take him hardly any time. He felt even like some of the fog’d cleared from his brain by the time he stepped up onto the porch and pulled the back door open. He paused in the back hall and listened to the chorus of the house.
The soft creak of wood as wind blew through the building, the sizzle of something being cooked in the kitchen, the cadence of voices. Percival followed the sounds of people and poked his head into the kitchen.
“Did you sleep?” Hope stood at the stove. She moved something around on a cast iron skillet. Judging from the small mound of sausage patties heaped on a plate nearby, she had more patties cooking.
“Of course I sleep.” Ian paced the short space in the kitchen. He cradled a mug of, Percival assumed, coffee. “What do you take me for?”
“A liar right now. Did you sleep last night?” Hope glanced over her shoulder at Ian. She started slightly at the sight of Percival. “Ah, so you made it through the night. Glad to see you up and with the living.”
“Morning to you too.” Percival slid into the kitchen and pressed his back against the wall. He studied the pair before him.
Hope slid another couple patties from the pan, expertly drained some of the grease, and threw a couple more patties in. Ian looked at him. His eyelids looked heavy, both drooping and heavily shadowed. The lines in his features had deepened overnight. The man looked dead on his feet, even if he continued to stride with a purpose that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a man wide awake.
“I�
�” Ian shook his head, closed his eyes in a very slow blink and stared at Hope’s backside. If looks could kill, his would be maiming the former teacher.
“When did you last get a night’s sleep. Hell, when did you last get a proper nap even?” Hope jostled the pan and practically slammed it back down on the stove. “You really think that you can run without rest and make the best possible decisions for everyone under your command? Continue to protect the few of us that remain when you’re clearly running on fumes?”
“Are you going to send me to bed now?”
“I’ve half a mind to do so.” Hope reached behind her and jostled the pan without turning away from Ian. Her teacher tone dribbled into her voice. “You, young man, are killing yourself when we need you most. And you will nap after the meeting you insisted on. Do you hear me?”
The last part reminded Percival of his mother.
“Who gave you the authority to order me around?” Ian demanded. Clearly this was getting under his skin. Percival could add frazzled to the cadet colonel’s list of tired descriptors.
“You just did. Colonel Pull, take some time to rest,” Percival said from his corner. “I’ll field questions that arise while you’re out.”
“Fine.” Ian shot daggers his way. He stormed toward the doorway.
Percival nodded once. “May want to collect some sausage before you go.”
Without a word, Ian turned a sharp about-face, marched to the plate and swiped three of the hot patties. He stalked out of the room.
Percival listened to the receding footsteps as Ian climbed the stairs. “What was that about?”
“He’s not slept, significantly slept, since Prosperity Wells fell.” Hope sounded tired. She adjusted patties on the skillet with less vigor.
“How do you know? I mean, other than the bags under his eyes.” Percival glanced at the doorway through which Ian had disappeared. He pushed away from the wall and moved to a coffee pot. “Do they have cream?”
“Maybe. Fridge was off all night due to power being fed into our broadcasts. So if you want to trust it, by all means. How’s the head?” Hope delivered a couple more patties from the skillet to the plate and added the last of the sausage patties into the hot skillet.
