by JJ Zep
“What if they ain’t?” someone shouted.
Chris shrugged. “We can pray that that’s the case, but we can’t assume it. There are only two options open to us. We stand or we run. For those of you planning on the latter, rest assured no one will think any worse of you. My only suggestion is that you go now, head north, give yourself as much of a lead as possible.”
A few people, no more than twenty, got to their feet and shuffled from the hall.
“For those that are staying, my recommendation is that we pull ourselves into a tighter grid.” He strode to an easel that held a map of the city and surrounds. “Here,” he said, pointing out the small peninsula between Boulder Bay and Metcalf Bay.
The room was suddenly in uproar and Chris let them rave. He’d been expecting it. “But that means abandoning our homes!” someone shouted when things eventually quieted down.
“It will for some of you, my family included,” Chris said. “But it’s the only way we’d have any chance of holding out against a Z force of any substantial size. It allows us to form a strong defensive line here.” He indicated Big Bear Boulevard on the map. “It also allows us to set up a number of fall back positions.”
“What chance do we stand against a force strong enough to overrun Pendleton?”
“Probably not a great chance,” Chris admitted. “But we do have one advantage on them. Pendleton was taken by surprise. We won’t be.”
“Collins!”
Chris directed his attention to the big, bearded man who had just risen from his seat near the back of the hall. Creed Dumfries had shown up in town three months ago with his two brothers. Since then he’d racked up citations for intimidation, public drunkenness and lewd behavior. He and his brothers had also been cited for hunting offences, specifically shooting animals for sport and leaving the carcasses to rot, something that might attract Z’s. There’d been calls to run the Dumfries brothers out of town but Sherriff Walcott had been stalling on taking action. Knowing Walcott, he was probably afraid of them.
“Creed?” Chris said, acknowledging Dumfries.
Dumfries fixed him with a crooked grin, the black thatch of his beard parting to expose the gold incisor at the front of his mouth. “Am I the only one in the room who sees a problem with your little scheme?”
“I don’t know Creed, are you?”
Dumfries seemed confused for a moment. Eventually, he spoke. “You got us backed up into this lick of land, water on three sides. Them Z’s break through your defenses and they’ll have us trapped.”
A wave of animated conversation rippled through the room. Chris let it run its course while Dumfries stood smirking at him, enjoying his little victory.
“Order!” Mayor Sutherland shouted and the room eventually stilled.
Chris walked back to the map, picked up the pointer and turned towards Dumfries. “You raise and excellent point there, Creed,” he said. “And I'm glad you did because it brings me to a key component of the fallback plan. You can thank my friend Mr. Joe Thursday for this particular idea.”
He pointed to a small inlet on the east side of the peninsula. “Pleasant Point Marina,” he said. “We’ll be mooring every available yacht, launch, rowboat, dinghy, whatever watercraft we can get our hands on, here. If the lines are breached we head out across the lake to Shelter Cove, from there north.”
Dumfries’ smile had been slowly fading as Chris outlined the evacuation plan. It had now morphed into a fully-fledged scowl.
“Yeah, well I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit,” he said.
“That being the case, why don’t you and your kinfolk load up your pickup and haul ass back to whatever backwater bayou y’all crawled out of.”
“Who said that?” Dumfries demanded.
“I did,” Hooley said, standing up in his seat.
Things got out of hand pretty quickly after that.
thirty five
Jojo crouched in the dirt alongside Route 86, just outside the town of Thermal, California. It was past midnight, the stars splashed across the inky black expanse of the heavens. Fifteen feet away, K-Mart and Galvin were decanting the last of the diesel fuel into the Humvee’s tank. Mons was in the firing hatch, surveying the darkened stretch of desert through the night vision goggles he’d found at the Morales compound. His hand was on the trigger guard of the fifty. Anything or anyone that came at them out of the darkness wouldn’t stand a chance.
After leaving El Centro they’d headed north, keeping to the back roads along the Salton Sea. K-Mart was true to his word and really did know every “back road, dirt track and deer trail,” as he’d claimed. They saw very few Z’s. Those they did encounter were taken apart by the fifty.
Still Jojo wondered if they were doing the right thing. Had Charlie really headed to Big Bear? What if he were still down here somewhere, caught up in this? What if they were abandoning him? What if he were already dead?
There was no way of knowing, but Jojo’s instinct told him that Charlie was alive. And if that were the case and Pendleton was not an option, Charlie would have headed for home. What other choice was there?
“Ready to go, Major,” K-Mart said behind him. Jojo stood and then jogged back to the vehicle. Two minutes later they were rolling. With a bit of luck they’d be in Big Bear before daybreak.
***
Fifty miles to the north, Charlie sat on the porch swing at his parent’s house, looking up at the same stars as his brother, thinking much the same thoughts. Where was Jojo? Was he at Pendleton? Heading north? Was he even still alive?
That last thought brought a jolt of anxiety. Was it possible that Jojo had been killed? No, Charlie decided, if his brother were dead he’d know. Jojo was alive and tomorrow he was heading out to find him, no matter the risk, no matter what his father said.
“Hey.”
Charlie had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even heard Skye approaching. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
She plopped down in the seat next to him and they sat in silence, looking at the stars. Charlie found that his mouth was dry, his pulse racing.
“Beautiful aren’t they,” Skye said.
“Sure are. Pity they’re looking down on such a messed up world.”
“Charlie,” she said turning towards him and taking his hand. “I never did get a chance to thank you, you and Wackjob, for coming back for me.”
“No reason to,” Charlie said. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“The hell I would,” Skye laughed. “I’d have run like hell if I’d had the strength to.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.”
Skye was suddenly serious. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”
“He said he would.”
“What will we do?”
“We’ll kick butt like we always do.”
“But we won’t have a chance.”
Charlie gave a wry chuckle. “Messenger has a hundred thousand Z’s. We have Chris Collins, Joe Thursday and Hooley Hoolihan, plus I humbly submit, yours truly. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
Dead Ever After
(Book Twenty of the Zombie D.O.A. Series)
J.J. Zep
PUBLISHED BY:
JJ Zep
Copyright © 2014
www.jjzep.com
one
The Humvee trundled through the dark, its powerful diesel engine delivering a steady thrum. From the passenger seat, Major Jojo Collins surveyed the star-spangled expanse of the heavens, a vast, inky blackness offering no sign yet of the coming dawn. They’d made good time, better than any of them could have expected. Jojo could hardly believe that he was just thirty miles from home, thirty miles from Ferret and his family.
The stretch of road they were on ran parallel to the I-10 and would soon pass under the freeway to hook up with the one-eleven. There, he'd have to make a decision. Were they going to continue on the path they were following, or were they going to mount the onramp and take the interstate? That route was
faster and the roads were likely to be in better condition. But, it was going to drop them right in the middle of San Bernardino, with all the problems that entailed.
By the time K-Mart slowed the Humvee to a crawl, with the overpass looming ahead, Jojo still hadn’t made up his mind. Logic told him to stick to the freeway and skirt the city. They might still encounter Z’s, maybe even Eaters or road bandits, but with the fifty on board none of those would present a problem. Still, something was niggling at him. He realized what it was.
He turned to Galvin. “Those ammo cases back there. Check them out, tell me what we’ve got.”
Galvin shuffled across the cab. Jojo heard the scrape of metal on metal as Galvin shifted the cases aside.
“Lots of twenty-mil back here,” Galvin said.
“Thought as much. Mons, how much fifty you still got?
“Just shy of half a belt, Major.”
“That it?”
“Yes, sir. If I’d known that some idiot back at Pendleton had loaded us up with twenty-mil, I’d have been less gung-ho with the trigger finger.”
“Nothing we can do about that now.”
It did, present a problem though. If they ran into trouble in San Bernardino, half a belt of ammo wasn’t going to dig them out.
That settled it.
“Take the one-eleven,” Jojo said.
“That would be my call,” K-Mart said. He depressed his foot on the accelerator. The Humvee rolled forward and made the turn under the freeway.
*****
For someone who claimed to have no interest in cars, Wackjob sure was enjoying General Harrow’s Caddie. “This is some sweet ride,” he said, leaning back in the plush leather. He and Charlie had followed a winding stretch of mountain road and cut through Crafton and Redlands to join up with the 1-10. The roads hadn’t been in great shape, but the Caddie had handled them well enough. Now, on the stretch of almost perfect backdrop, she was purring along.
“Sweet,” Wackjob said again.
Charlie still wasn’t sure whether he’d done the right thing. Slipping out of town to go after Jojo was reckless, he conceded that. But there'd been no choice in the matter. Jojo was his brother. He didn’t see how he could wait around in Big Bear Lake while Joe was still somewhere out here.
The off-ramps to Banning and Beaumont flashed by, the road signs momentarily illuminated by the sweep of the Caddie’s headlights.
“We going straight on or sticking to the 10?” Wackjob asked.
Charlie had been thinking about that himself. Staying on the highway was the safer choice, the wiser choice. But it added miles, and their fuel situation didn’t look all that great. Right now the Caddie’s gage was showing less than half a tank.
A sign flashed by in the darkness, announcing the imminent turn-off to the one-eleven, Palm Springs, Cathedral City, Palm Desert and points beyond.
“Take the next,” Charlie said.
“You hoping for another crack at our friend Goliath?” Wackjob chuckled.
“Not hoping,” Charlie said. “But if he gets in our way we’re riding straight through him.”
Wackjob began applying the brakes as the turnoff loomed. “Amen to that,” he said. “I’ll even flip her in reverse and back up to spew exhaust into his stupid, pink face.”
two
It was Mons, standing up in the shooting hatch wearing the night vision goggles, who first spotted the obstruction. They were five miles from the junction, just through Palm Desert, when he called out a warning. K-Mart slowed the Humvee to an even slower pace than the one they’d been traveling at.
“Someone set that on purpose,” he said as the barrier loomed out of the darkness. Two burned-out delivery vehicles were nose-to-nose in the middle of the road, barring their way.
Jojo had been thinking the same thing. The spot was perfect for an ambush, with steep embankments falling away to either side, and a series of low hills to their left.
“Fortunately,” K-Mart said. “Whoever set this trap don’t know shit about the capabilities of Uncle Sam’s favorite buggy. Y’all hold on tight back there. And keep your eyes peeled for bandits.”
He veered the Humvee towards the side of the road and onto the soft shoulder. For a moment the outside wheels seemed to hover in space and then K-Mart eased the vehicle forward and they listed sideways. Jojo was sure that they were going to slide down into the gully. But K-Mart kept them rolling, rounding the back of the truck. Then he floored the Humvee so that the tires bit and they went careening back onto the road.
“That last bit was purely showing off,” K-Mart said as the vehicle began to pick up speed leaving the obstacle behind.
It was just then that Jojo caught the flash out of the corner of his eye, a momentary spark that seemed to blossom in the darkness. He opened his mouth to call out a warning, ducking his head out of instinct. Too late, of course. The sniper, positioned on a knoll half a mile down the road, had already fired. The bullet was already accelerating towards them. These thoughts flashed through Jojo’s brain in a nanosecond. Then the bullet collided with the Humvee’s windshield and punched through. It struck K-Mart just above the bridge of the nose and ripped off the top of his skull.
The world took on the appearance of a slow-motion nightmare. Jojo saw a crack run along the bulletproof glass and spider web into a series of tributaries. He felt the blast of cool night air on his face, the spray of K-Mart’s warm blood spattering him. He realized, without thinking about it, that the round had been fired from an anti-tank rifle. It had to be, to punch through that armored glass. Then the Humvee was swerving out of control, racing across the tarmac with K-Mart’s foot jammed down on the pedal. Jojo heard shouts from behind him and the sound of heavy ammo cases and diesel canisters being flung around. The burnout wreck of a minivan loomed suddenly out of the dark. The Humvee smashed into it, throwing Jojo forward in his seat, slamming him against the seatbelt. But the Humvee had too much momentum. It carried the minivan towards the collapsed barrier at the side of the road, through it. In the next moment, Jojo felt the world shift under him. The Humvee tilted sideways, tottered a moment and then flipped onto its side, then over again as it hit the embankment.
Jojo felt something slam into the side of his head with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. He was vaguely aware that it must be an ammo case. Then darkness spilled into his world and he faded into nothingness.
The Humvee slid to the bottom of the gully, flipping once more for good measure.
*****
“You hear that?”
“Cut the lights and pull over.”
The road ahead plunged into darkness. Wackjob allowed the Caddie to drift to the soft shoulder and brought it to a stop. Charlie ran his window down, leaned out into the dark and focused his hearing. The sound he’d heard was the unmistakable crack of a high-caliber rifle, followed by what sounded like an auto wreck. Now though, there was nothing but the sounds of the night, the rustle of dry brush, the chirp and chirrup of insects.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Charlie wasn’t sure what Wackjob had on his mind. What he was thinking was this. Out here in the middle of nowhere, so close to where the Eaters and taken him and Wackjob, the shot could only have come from one source. Whoever had fired that rifle had to be one of Goliath’s crew. But what had they fired at? And why only a single shot?
He looked to the ridge of low hills west of their position, perfect for a sniper. No point making it easy for him. He unsheathed his dagger and pried away the plastic cover of the interior light, removed the bulb.
“Pop the trunk and get out of the car,” he said, flipping open his door. “Get out on this side and stay low.”
Charlie was already on the move, dropping to the shoulder and edging towards the rear of the vehicle. He paused there a moment, peered into the dark, then slipped from cover and lifted the trunk half an inch. A wedge of light spilled out and he extinguished it. Then he flipped the trunk all the way open and selected an M-60 from
the impressive array of weapons Wackjob had assembled. He passed that to Wackjob, along with a spare belt, then picked out an AR-15 with an extra mag. As an afterthought, he grabbed a couple of grenades, handed them to Wackjob then pocketed two himself.
“Let’s move out,” he said.
The light to the east was beginning to fade, black into blue, some low lying clouds taking on a mantle of gold from the rising sun.
Charlie slid down the embankment. That would give them cover from sniper fire. He was certain that the sniper hadn’t spotted them yet. If he had, they’d likely be dead already.
Somewhere up ahead an engine revved up, closer than Charlie had expected. “Come on,” he said and set off at a jog.
*****
Jojo woke to a world of pain. He was lying on his side, still strapped into his seat. Pallid light spilled through the cracked windshield and the air felt thick with dust and the smell of diesel fuel. There was something sticky in his hair. Jojo lifted his hand to his head and it came away bloody. The memory of what had happened came flooding back. K-Mart had taken a hit from a sniper bullet, the Humvee had veered off the road and tumbled down an embankment. Something had crashed into his head, knocked him out, something had…
A groan alerted his attention. He looked to his left, where K-Mart was still in his seat, still suspended from his safety harness. No, of course, it wouldn’t be K-Mart.
The wordless groan came again and Jojo realized what he had to do. One (or both) of the men back there was still alive. They had to get out of the vehicle. They had to find someplace to hide before whoever had fired at them arrived to finish the job.
His hand went to the release catch on his safety harness. He tried pushing at it. Nothing. He applied more pressure. A shard of pain ran up his right arm and seemed to jump from there to his shoulder and assault his forehead. A cry escaped him. He gritted his teeth as a hundred different sources of pain, each more agonizing than the next, attacked his senses. His right arm, he was certain, was broken. A cursory glance at the sliver of bone that had ripped through his shirt confirmed that diagnosis. But that wasn’t the worst of his injuries. His chest felt as though a boulder was pressing down on it. That meant that he’d likely broken some ribs, maybe even suffered internal damage. It was his head, though, that worried him most. The sensation from that source was like a balloon inflating and deflating. Jojo managed to lift his undamaged hand to the wound and detected a concave section of scalp that was sticky with blood. That couldn’t be good.
