“I was just saying—”
“Crazy-ass white people.” Lenore rolled her eyes.
“You’d make cute babies,” Stacey offered helpfully.
Lenore growled and stalked off.
“What got into her?” Peggy arched an eyebrow.
Stacey lifted her shoulders and updated her ledger again. “Who knows? We’re getting low on sweet peas.”
“We’re getting low on everything. Hopefully, all the scavenging will help.” Peggy finished her calendar and circled the present date. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What is it?”
“It’s been a year. Today.” Peggy laid a trembling hand over her heart. “It’s been a year exactly since it all went down into zombie hell.”
“Should we tell everyone?” Stacey’s face had drained of blood beneath her ever-present tan.
“I don’t know. What good would it do?” Peggy studied the calendar again. “It seems so much longer.”
“A year.” Stacey thought of all that had happened and was amazed. “A year.”
3.
Out with the Old
The first bulldozer tore into the old house with frightening ease. The structure quivered, then folded in on itself in splintering splendor.
Standing on one of the hotel balconies, Nerit watched through binoculars as bulldozers destroyed all the houses on a single block. The fort’s scavenging teams had already removed everything useful from the homes.
There had been relatively few encounters with zombies. Nerit thought that it was likely most of the area’s resident zombies had been eliminated. There was still a chance that there were zombies trapped in some of the homes, but they hadn’t found any in months.
Despite the influx of newcomers, things were running more smoothly in the fort. Maybe it was the beauty of dawning spring, but people seemed less restless than they had during winter, more willing to help out.
Nerit had been pleased to add Kevin and his troops to the fort’s defenses. The soldiers helped train the fort’s civilian guards, creating an even more effective force. Kevin’s tactical abilities surpassed Nerit’s, though he deferred to her as the senior officer.
In one of their first strategy sessions, they’d decided to have one of the helicopters make a flyover of the National Guard base. They needed more ammunition and wanted to assess the potential threat from the zombie-occupied base.
To everyone’s surprise, Greta reported that there were no zombies visible on the base or in the surrounding area. After several more recon flights, it was decided to send in some of Kevin’s troops. After several nerve-racking hours, the soldiers had returned and reported that they’d found a few slow zombies inside the buildings. They’d put them down easily. The two helicopters returned full of additional equipment and weapons.
“How’s it going?” Travis asked, stepping onto the balcony beside Nerit.
Nerit gave him a tight smile. “So far, no trouble.”
Travis gripped the railing and stared at the bulldozers. “I wonder if we’ll ever live in houses again. Go to the grocery store. Drive to a movie.”
“In time, perhaps. Most likely not you or me. But your children’s children, maybe.”
A haunted look flitted across his face. “We can hope and plan to make it happen.”
Nerit smiled ruefully. “We are pioneers in a new world. We were so unchallenged by the old world, so spoiled. Now we are back to hunting and gathering.”
They saw several large trucks heading back into town, loaded with dead deer. Winter had taken a harsh toll on the cattle on the neighboring ranches, but the deer population seemed to be up. A group of men were now taking care of the cattle. Once the herd was healthy again, beef would be back on the table. But until then, venison was the meat of choice.
“At least we got big guns and ammo,” Travis said after a beat.
Nerit laughed. “Yes, at least we have that.”
They both watched another house crash to the ground. Birds sang in the trees. Wildflowers covered the hills. The sky was bright blue, and fluffy white clouds glided overhead.
Below, the bulldozers continued to reshape the old world into the new.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
1.
When All Is New
Everything had changed.
Katie slowly jogged down Main Street, her ponytail swinging back and forth behind her head like a pendulum.
Overhead, a helicopter was veering off toward the north, probably running field-workers out to a nearby ranch the fort was attempting to secure, or heading for the farm, taking someone to check on the water station, or just refueling at the nearby airstrip.
Helicopters …
Who would have thought the fort would ever have helicopters? Jenni had joked about a handsome black leading man and helicopters when she and Katie were first on the road. She’d tossed out Romero film facts as if they were quotes from the zombie bible.
Katie’s eyes suddenly stung and she tried not to think of Jenni in her pink bathrobe, riding shotgun in that old white pickup.
Turning the corner, she saw Nerit strolling down the street, hands in her pants pockets, her old hunting dog ambling along beside her. The older woman looked more relaxed than Katie had ever seen her. The influx of soldiers had made Nerit’s job much easier. Recently, to Katie’s surprise, Nerit had allowed Ken to give her a makeover. Gone was the long silver braid, replaced by a more youthful, sassy hairdo that barely brushed her shoulders. A rinse had taken the yellow tinge from her silver locks.
Katie almost resented Nerit’s ease at moving past Ralph. She knew that was unfair of her—she was finally at peace with Lydia’s death, and even with her father’s. She’d assumed he was dead for months, so to have had a chance to hug him, talk to him, and say good-bye was a gift.
But it was hard to let go of Jenni.
She trudged along the interior of the wall. Above, on a sturdy platform, Jason and some other teenagers were building a catapult. Jack was up there, too, securely leashed in case he tried anything crazy like diving over the wall at a zombie.
Jason had wept for Jenni for days, but even through his tears, he kept saying that he knew his mom was all right, that she had come to comfort him. Soon, he had gone back to designing defensive weapons for the fort.
He was healing.
On the next street, Katie spotted Bill in his new uniform. The police force had grown to five, all former officers in their hometowns, now unified by their common purpose—to protect the citizens of Ashley Oaks—and by matching uniforms, recovered on a scavenging mission. Though crime was not a common occurrence, there was the occasional petty theft or fight, and sadly, some domestic disputes.
“Tell your husband the poker game is at eight tonight,” Bill said as she drew near. “I plan to demolish him, Juan, and Eric.”
“Okay. Will do,” she answered, laughing. Between the new uniform and the glow of his fresh relationship with Katarina, Bill looked almost handsome.
Monica and Bette were standing outside the theater, holding hands and staring up at a newly hung old poster announcing the premiere of Jaws. The bloom of their brand-new love was fresh and beautiful. Unfortunately, a group of fundamentalists was taking strong issue with the fort’s minuscule gay population.
Seeing Monica made Katie think of Curtis. He never smiled anymore. Never did much of anything other than sit in the communication center or patrol the streets. He avoided any social gathering where he might see his former lover. Katie felt bad that he couldn’t move on, but she understood his pain.
She was having trouble moving on herself, where Jenni was concerned. But how could she? Their life together seemed unfinished.
She turned through the gates into the old construction site. In one corner, Juan was building a small garden as a memorial to Jenni and others who had died. Though he wasn’t well enough yet for heavy work, he’d roped off the area and begun breaking ground. Bags of rich soil and fertilizer sat nearby, and a statue of the
Virgin Mary leaned against the wall, intended to be the garden’s focal point.
Katie stopped near Juan to warm down. Her seven-month pregnancy bump was a little bit of an issue, but she was learning to work with it. She was having a very easy pregnancy according to Charlotte, though her aching back, swollen feet, and bladder did not seem to agree.
How could she have gained and lost so much in just a year?
Standing with her hands resting on her swollen belly, she studied Juan. His ponytail kept falling into his face and he kept flipping it back. Slowly Katie realized he was crying as he worked.
Refusing the release tears might give her, Katie walked away.
She wasn’t ready yet. Despite the changes in the world around her, she couldn’t let go of Jenni. Not yet.
2.
Daddy One
It started slowly, as all love stories do.
It began with one lone man working long hours on a small garden in a corner of what had once been a construction site. Day by day, he toiled slowly and painfully, rarely looking at the people strolling by.
Silence was what he craved and silence was what he received. Everyone seemed afraid to talk to him and he was relieved. He didn’t want to talk about her.
Jenni.
His loca.
His heart and his love.
So he labored on the memorial garden, the last thing he could give her.
True love comes slowly, they say.
In Jenni’s case, it had hit him so hard, he never saw it coming. He had relished every moment with her. In his mind’s eye, he saw her laughing until she fell over in a heap or dancing with wild abandon to some awful song. Then there were the quiet times, when she lie in his arms and her smile made this horrible life feel beautiful and good.
Now she was gone and he could find no beauty around him. Everything was gray and dark.
So he was planting flowers for her. Something beautiful to remind him of her beauty.
One morning, a shadow fell over him while he worked. He did not look up. He didn’t want anyone to see the tears in his eyes.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Planting a memorial garden.” Standard reply. Neutral voice. He stayed focused on the tray of flowers waiting to be planted. Monica and Bette had salvaged them from yards around town.
“What does that mean?” The voice was tiny. Female.
“It’s for those who died. To remember them.”
“Oh.” A long pause. Then, “My mommy and daddy died.”
At this, Juan looked up.
He saw three children. The speaker was around eight or nine years old, with long blond hair trailing around her face. Her eyes, dark and vivid, reminded him of Jenni’s. Holding tight to the girl’s T-shirt was a little boy, around four or five, and another girl, maybe six. The little boy had masses of dark hair and big, chestnut brown eyes. The second girl was blond with clear blue eyes.
The children Jenni gave her life for. He’d heard the story from Katie and Kevin and others who’d witnessed Jenni’s sacrifice.
Juan had been avoiding the youngsters. He almost hated them. They were alive because Jenni had died. He knew Peggy had been trying to look after them, but mostly they drifted aimlessly through the fort like miniature ghosts.
The little boy leaned down and gently ran his fingers through the earth at the base of the freshly planted violets.
“I have a lot of work to do,” Juan finally said.
“Can we help?” the oldest girl asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
The middle child, her lips pursed, touched the features of the face of the Virgin Mary statue. “She’s pretty.”
Juan felt the beginnings of panic. Why wouldn’t they leave?
The oldest girl squatted down and began to dig another hole. “We used to do this with Mommy,” she said.
A lump rose in his throat and Juan fought not to cry.
The children clustered around him. The younger girl began to lay bits of pink granite in a little row along the walkway Juan had already laid down. People had been writing the names of their deceased family members on each stone. The little boy dug holes for his oldest sister, who carefully set flowers into the earth. Unable to speak, his throat clogged with anger and grief, Juan kept working. After several minutes, the boy asked in a raspy voice, “What’s your name?”
As far as Juan knew, this was the first time the little one had said anything to anyone since arriving at the fort.
“Juan,” he managed to choke out.
“One,” the little boy said.
“No. Juan.”
“One,” the boy said again, smiling with satisfaction.
Juan started to correct him, then reconsidered. The boy was talking and that had to be important.
Despite his pain, he let them be. To his surprise, they were good workers. The next morning, they were waiting for him beside the garden. He hesitated, not sure if he could deal with them for another day, then set to work without a word.
They all worked hard, sweating, getting dirty. The children chattered quietly, in hushed voices. A few passersby tried to talk to the little ones, but at each approach, they drew close to Juan as if seeking his protection.
He wanted to scream and send them running, but he refrained.
Peggy made sure they had breakfast and were dressed appropriately, but otherwise they were Juan’s responsibility. They called him One and asked him countless questions about the garden, but when others spoke to them, they fell silent.
Slowly, his anger faded. The garden began to look lush and beautiful with its redbrick walkways edged with pink granite and a plethora of blooming flowers.
“I like bluebonnets,” the oldest girl, Margie, told Juan, and tickled his nose with one.
“Why?”
“’Cause they’re pretty,” she answered with a giggle.
Juan smiled.
He started having lunch with them and then breakfast. Every evening, before they went inside to be with Peggy and her son, Cody, they would hug and kiss him.
The pain slowly lessened inside, and from time to time, Juan caught himself smiling.
One morning, as a helicopter ascended into the sky, he realized that the garden was complete. The bench beneath him was cool and the breeze was fresh. The three little ones sat smiling on the bench across from him.
“You are now our daddy,” Margie informed him. The other two nodded in agreement, grinning happily.
Flustered, Juan said, “What?”
“The lady with the black hair told us,” Margie answered. The other two nodded again.
“Which lady?” He already knew the answer.
“The lady from the mall. The nice lady who took care of us after Mommy…” The girl hesitated. “You know.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Last night. In our dreams,” Troy answered. “She’s pretty.”
This was so like Jenni. She was making sure the kids were fine and that he was, too. He laughed, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “Oh, Loca…”
Then the kids were leaping on him, hugging and kissing him. He held them tight.
“Daddy One! Daddy One!” they chanted.
Juan felt his pain lift and he threw back his head and laughed. He was so full of love, he felt as if it must be bursting out of him. He leaped to his feet and danced around with glee, the kids dangling off him.
Somewhere, he knew Jenni was smiling down on them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1.
The March of the Dead
Nights in mid-April were still brisk, so Rune slept under a thick blanket in the hunters’ blind he had discovered off a back road. His bike was parked right next to the trapdoor, and his hand grenades were close at hand. The wooden blind was sturdy enough, but the canvas roof was torn and not much protection from the cool wind and light rain. Rune was huddled against the wall, snoring lightly, when he was awakened by a simple touch on his knee.
Wakin
g with a start, he drew his Glock and aimed at the figure kneeling next to him. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
There was no zombie moan in response. The dark figure didn’t move.
With his free hand, he lifted his Maglite flashlight and flicked it on, revealing a pretty face with huge dark eyes.
“Jenni!”
“Hey, Rune.”
Rune lowered the gun slowly, his hand beginning to tremble. He swallowed hard, then said, “Sorry.”
She lifted her shoulders under her red sweater. “I’m okay with it.”
“You go out good?”
“Hell yeah! I’m proud of how I died! I saved a bunch of people I love. It was good.” Jenni grinned with satisfaction.
“Good for you. You went out a warrior.” Rune began to holster his Glock, but she held out a hand to stop him, her smile fading.
“Don’t. You need that. In fact, you need to get moving,” Jenni said urgently.
“Shit. What’s going on?”
“They’re coming out of the east. They started walking this way a few weeks ago. You have to warn the fort.”
“Damn, Jenni, that don’t sound good!”
“There’s a lot of them. You need to go now.” Jenni’s aspect was beginning to blur around the edges.
Rune fought to keep his teeth from chattering as the air around him grew colder. That she had appeared so realistically was impressive, but she was drawing all the energy from the air around him.
“I’m going,” he said, getting to his feet.
Jenni didn’t answer. She was already gone.
Whipping open the trapdoor, Rune dropped his motorcycle bags onto the ground next to the bike. It looked clear under the blind. Heaving the bag of grenades onto his shoulder, he swung his legs onto the ladder.
Faint moans made his skin crawl. He couldn’t tell how far away they were.
Gripping his gun securely, he dropped to the ground. Swinging quickly in a circle, he didn’t see any dead things. He secured the motorcycle bags to his bike as the first few figures emerged from the stand of trees to his right. They moved slowly, but when they saw him, their moans grew louder. The answering moans of what sounded like thousands of zombies made Rune’s bowels heave.
As The World Dies Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 87
