by Lund, Dave
Bexar held his wife close. “I’m sorry. We’ve lost so much, so many people, I can’t lose you again.”
“I can’t lose you again either. Whatever we choose, whatever we have to do, we have a little bit of time before we have to make a decision. If we leave—before we leave—I can’t walk away from these people to let them dangle in the wind. We have to at least get everyone safe and the facility secure before we make any decisions. I…we can’t leave these folks to figure this out on their own.”
“OK, baby, then that’s what we’ll do.” Bexar wiped the tears from his wife’s cheeks.
Crockett, Texas
Ken pulled the curtain back and peered out the dirty window. The trees moved from the wind, a hog was rutting around an old feeder, but there was no sign of the dead. With a sigh of relief, Ken slowly opened the door to the pre-dawn morning, scanned the area for any threat of the dead, and walked outside to relieve himself. The morning’s task was a hard one, one of the admission that his friends were most likely dead, but it would be foolhardy to leave unknown supplies buried in their cache sites and set off on such a daunting task as traveling all the way to Nevada. Technology was a grand thing; a quick voice command to his phone and he would have turn by turn directions, GPS updates, overhead satellite photos of the area…everything he would ever need to travel the relatively short distance to Nevada, but that was before the end. Before the end of society, before the end of the living being the alpha-hunters on the planet. No, the earth was ruled by the dead and technology had failed. He was in a quasi-stone age, like some sort of bad made-for-TV movie. The only things missing were the outlandish costumes with football pads, leather, and spikes.
From the front door of the deer lease cabin, Ken counted off the paces. The whole group had been careful to conceal their individual caches, but each of them knew where the other buried caches were just for such an occasion.
Forty-one, forty-two…here.
The dirt looked slightly disturbed, like a place where vehicles turned around, but nothing like a secret location with important supplies. Ken looked around again, his rifle slung over his back, shovel in his hands, and he began digging. After some time, with sweat falling from Ken’s brow, the shovel made the distinct sound of hitting wood, and Ken dug out around his hole. A half-sheet of inch-thick plywood protected the sealed aluminum cases. Once the protective cover was dug out and lifted free from the hole, Ken was able to drag the heavy cases topside and open them. The rubber weather seal had held well and the three Zarges aluminum storage cases had survived quite well. Resisting the urge to dig through each of the cases out in the open, Ken dragged them back into the hunting cabin before restarting the pace, counting to the next cache site and next group of heavy-duty aluminum cases.
The sun was nearing sunset by the time all the cases were dug up and in the cabin. Eight fingers from the horizon, Ken knew there were only about two hours of light left. The days were growing longer but they were still too short for all he had to get done before beginning his journey. Nine sealed Zarges cases now sat in the cabin. Ken left the holes exposed, the need for secrecy long expired. Now was the time for efficiency and expediency. One by one, the cases were opened, emptied, and organized by type of gear and use. Some of the gear was of no use to Ken, clothing that was too small for example. Some was cut into rags, the rest left in a heap in the corner. As strong as the urge was to leave nothing that could be of some use, Ken had to fit a lot of gear to travel a lot of miles and things like clothing cut into rags simply wouldn’t be that beneficial. Other clothing like the 100 percent cotton underwear were cut up and set aside to turn into char cloth. One simply couldn’t have enough char cloth to start fires with; he would set a fire before he went to bed to begin the process of making char.
Other things were incredibly useful, like the freeze-dried backpacking food. He could cold soak the food for the day to create a meal or warm water and prepare a meal in under an hour; regardless, the food was calorie dense and actually tasted pretty good, never mind that it was relatively lightweight, portable, and had a shelf life measured in epochs.
There were really no surprises except for a GPS unit that may or may not work. He would have to attempt to charge it with the truck on the drive. The rest of the caches comprised mostly of first-aid supplies, food, and ammo. Lots of ammo. After the end of the world and for the time being, he felt like a rich man due to how much ammo he had available. More than enough ammo to feed his group-standard 45-ACP pistol and his M1. At least when it came to protection and hunting, he was well set to make his cross-country journey.
Still, Ken felt uneasy, muttering to himself as he organized the gear he wanted to take back into the strong aluminum boxes. He wondered how badly he would be overloading the old deer lease truck and decided it didn’t matter. Once he made it to Groom Lake, he should be set and the truck could rust into dust in the desert for all he cared. The problem was that the truck would have to make the journey or he would be in a bad spot.
Approaching Ennis, Texas
Amanda watched long shadows play across the landscape from a few thousand feet above the ground. After meeting Jay and becoming entranced with all the message traffic between different survivors and groups, she asked Andrew to stay an extra day so she could take it all in. Her official message took a little time to transmit, but once it had, the airwaves were a mess with different stations trying to transmit on top of each other. It was a radio pile-up of epic proportions and they could do nothing but wait. Long into the night, they all sat by the radio, answering questions and giving advice. Survivors, her fellow citizens, were ready to fight the living invaders just as they had been fighting the dead ones. Eventually, she excused herself to sleep on the sofa in the FBO, exhausted from her travels, the battle, the flying, and the enormous weight of the task ahead of her. Amanda just wasn’t able to stay awake any longer.
That morning she felt hungover, even though she hadn’t had a drink in some time. After reaching the smoother cool air of Andrew’s chosen cruising altitude, she first tried to sleep, but the tight tandem seating and dual controls made that a challenge. Amanda gave up and took to writing down some notes and using the time to attempt figuring out what the next step would be.
The answer would be simple if she had some sort of military branch still functioning in some manner—to her untrained mind, even a single naval destroyer would be a game changer—but she also had no idea what capabilities that the mixed Chinese and Korean forces had. Checking off the things she knew to be true from the report that Aymond’s men had given her, she knew that the PLA still had aircraft—at least cargo aircraft—personnel and ships—at least commercial ships—at their disposal. Strangely, they didn’t appear to have any appreciable military strike aircraft or naval vessels. It would make no sense to leave cargo ships anchored waiting to off-load at a port without a significant naval presence to protect them.
They must not have them. Or those forces are engaged somewhere else…with reports being transmitted from the far-flung reaches of the United States, no one has reported anything of the sort. So the Chinese Navy was either disabled, trying to stay hidden for some unknown reason, or engaged in other conflicts elsewhere.
Amanda sat up straight at the thought and tapped on Andrew’s shoulder before yelling over the engine noise. “Have you heard of anyone making contact with people in other countries or places like Europe?”
Andrew shook his head. “No, and I don’t think Jay and them had either otherwise they would have pinned that on their map.”
“Thanks.” Amanda sat back against her seat and stared out the window as the airplane banked lazily. It took her a moment to realize that Andrew was circling overhead the above-ground park where her base was located, the HESCO containers and fortifications plainly visible, as Clint had said they would be. The sound of the motor changed, Andrew began his descent into the park, and Amanda thought he would land on the
road between the farmer’s fields leading up to the main entrance. She could do nothing but sit and hope that her pilot knew what he was doing.
The big tires bumped on the grassy surface before the engine spun up loudly and the Husky leapt back into the sky. Andrew yelled over the noise, “Sorry, we were out of position. I’m going to have another go at it.”
The plane banked around the park before Andrew tried landing again, this time rolling to a short stop before cutting the motor off and opening the clamshell door. Andrew climbed out first, pistol in hand, before helping Amanda climb out. They scanned the area, but nothing moved. The wind seemed to have paused at the disruption, the world holding its breath for a moment. A single corpse broke through the tree line to the west, only a few dozen yards away. Amanda turned raised her rifle and fired a single shot, the corpse’s head snapping back before it crumpled to the ground.
“Come on, let’s get underground. We have to be ready to kill the closest thing I’ve ever met to an honest-to-god ninja when we get down there.”
“First, we need to secure my plane. If we hope to use it again later, hold guard and I’ll take care of it.”
Amanda agreed and took a few steps out from under the shadow of the wing. Andrew dug around in the small luggage compartment before pulling a small canvas bag out, which had three corkscrew-looking metal stakes and three pieces of rope. After screwing each into the dirt, Andrew tied the aircraft down and put chocks under the main tires. He pulled the key from the dash. “Not having the key won’t slow someone down much, but it makes me feel better.”
Amanda’s plan for Clint was to walk into the facility like nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t left unannounced and disappeared a week prior. The first chance she had, Amanda knew she had to shoot first, fast and true, and kill him. If she didn’t, there was no doubt that Clint would kill both she and Andrew without blinking. She knew that her plan was complete bullshit, but she really hoped it would work. It was all she had at the moment, so it had to work.
Pahrump, NV
Jason slowly pushed the door open, a growing sliver of light piercing the darkness sharply, painful to view. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he could see past the blinding daylight. The awning over the gas pumps across the street was knocked over. Numerous bodies appeared to be trapped under it, and some were still moving. Even though their bodies were crushed, their skulls were intact and they were trapped under the awning. The enormous hoard had knocked it over like a toy. The convenience store appeared to be mostly intact and besides the reanimated dead under the awning, Jason could only find a half dozen or so moving in the street. It appeared the hoard had thankfully moved on. The direction the debris was pushed would mean that the hoard was following the PLA and that he and Erin could run into the back of them if they followed their previous path.
Before they could go anywhere, he had to check on their old Suburban parked around the back of their castle-shaped strip club. The sun was getting near the western horizon and Jason knew that any further travel or adventure would have to wait until morning. This night they would abstain from alcohol. He still felt lousy, but even sober it was impossible to tell time in the blacked-out, windowless building. Jason slowly closed the door, securing it shut for the night.
“What did you see?” Erin had been in the shadows with her M4 at the ready, but not able to see much of the outside.
“Well, the horde is gone, but they knocked over the gas pump cover. There are some trapped and moving. There are a few more in the streets but nothing like before.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
“The sun is going down; there’s only about an hour of daylight left. I think we should wait until the morning. Besides, I couldn’t see the Suburban, we still have to check on that.”
“Fine, I’ll go out the back and check on our ride, but we leave at first light.”
“How do we even know when first light is? There are no windows, no clocks that still work. I tried calling the front desk for a wakeup call but no one answered.”
Erin flipped Jason off. “Drink two big cups of water before you go to bed. When you get up to piss, it’ll be just before sunrise. That’s how Native Americans did it to wake up before a battle.”
Jason pointed his hands in the darkness. “What water? All of those bottles are alcohol; my stomach turned just thinking of the word.”
“Go get some out of the truck.”
“No, I don’t want to waste that water on an alarm clock. We need to save that.”
“Then go to the fucking store!”
“Fine, I’ll go to the fucking store!”
“No, I didn’t mean that, don’t go.”
Jason stood at the door he had just secured. A few moments later, he opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. Squinting, he scanned for any immediate threats, turned right, and began walking toward the convenience store with the collapsed awning. Giving the wriggling mass of still moving undead trying to free themselves from under the awning, Jason made his way to what was the glass front of the store. In the shadows of the interior, he could see some movement and that some of the shelves were still standing. Shelves being upright were a good sign; that meant that the horde hadn’t destroyed the entire store as they passed. The movement was obviously bad, as the only things still moving in this town besides he and Erin were already dead.
After banging the stock of his shotgun loudly against the ruin door framed, the movement in the shadows shifted. Jason could see the dead coming out toward him. Jason waved his armed and began walking quickly toward the near corner of the building. After waiting to make sure that the dead followed his direction, Jason turned the corner and headed toward the open field behind the store. The path ahead was clear, although there were a few new straggling dead joining the reined in shoppers. Jason turned and walked behind the store, certain that he was being followed. After a few quick steps, Jason trotted around the side of the building and toward the front from the other side.
Jason jogged around the corner and he bumped into the back of a walking corpse. Surprised and off balance, Jason fell backward as the undead turned trying to grasp him. The disfigured skull exploded in a dark gooey mist. Jason looked toward the castle to see Erin standing in the back by the Suburban, her rifle up and aimed at him. He smiled, got on his feet, and slid into the darkened store interior.
Quickly, Jason swept the front of the store for any lingering dead. Happy to find no threats, Jason grabbed a couple of plastic shopping bags from behind the counter and gathered up a few bottles of water. He also found some cans of Vienna sausages and a jar of ranch chip dip. The bags of chips looked worse for the wear and he didn’t want to spend too much time digging around for better choices. The sound of Erin’s M4 firing snapped his attention toward the outside. His previous group of trailing zombies had made the lap, and the parking lot was getting dangerously crowded. Erin was thinning the herd, but he needed to move quickly. Jason didn’t want to catch a round meant for a corpse, so he eased out of the safety of the shadows. He could see Erin standing and firing her M4. Jason waved; Erin gave a thumbs up. He took a few big steps out of the store before turning and jogging back toward Erin. He made a rounded course to give Erin a better angle of fire for anything that followed, but her rifle stayed silent.
Jason jogged past Erin, opened the door, and waited for her to join him. Once the door was shut and secured, he took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Erin. That was stupid of me because of a stupid fight over nothing.”
Erin gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Just don’t do that again. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Did you check our ride while you were out there?”
“Yeah, it’s beat to hell.”
“It was beat to hell before, so what?”
“So I think it’s fine. It hadn’t moved so I don’t think the dead or the PLA gave it much attention
.”
Jason smiled. “Would you like some Vienna sausages and chip dip for dinner?”
“Sounds awesome.”
They sat quietly in the darkness and ate their dinner, Jason waiting to drink the water until right before he lay down for the night. The stillness was interrupted only by the occasional muffled bump of one of the meandering Zeds hitting the side of the building.
Groom Lake, NV
Jessie stood near the tent. Small fires below cast orange light across the open expanse of the runways, people’s long shadows dancing across the ground. Most of the work for the day had been completed, so only the security watches would stay up for the night. The top-side dorms were now clear of the dead; all the survivors that had been found so far were staying top-side. They seemed surprisingly happy about being exposed on the surface, even though they didn’t have a choice. No one was allowed to stay underground until all the levels had been fully swept and cleared of the dead, except for Bill and one other radioman demanding to be locked in the radio hut and left. Jessie let them; she believed that keeping in touch with outside survivors was paramount.
Against what she thought to be safe, the other survivors wanted to have a party of a campout. So like a driftwood beach fire, what little could be found and would burn had been rounded up for sunset. It was good that there wasn’t any alcohol or an evening like this could go wrong for everyone, but she trusted that the “liberty rules” as one man had called them, would be heeded. For her piece of mind and much to Bexar’s relief, they were in the canvas wall tent on the top of the hill by the tanks. It was unlikely that a Zed would come over the top of the mountain behind them, not that they had recorded many sightings as of late anyways. Before the attack, things had become mostly quiet and routine, insulated from the hard reality of being out in the wilds.
