Nobody stood up for him. Nobody admitted they thought it was a good idea at the time, that they all wanted a little payback.
The more they drank the angrier they became and for some reason Gordon got most of the blame. He was supposed to know the lay of the land, he had lived with them for months. He should have known they would have tricks. The only thing he’d warned everyone about was the animals. They were dangerous. They were vicious. They were unpredictable. They needed to shoot them the instant they saw them. Once the animals were down, the brats would be easy to control. They hadn’t seen a single one of the so-called fearsome beasts and had been outsmarted by a bunch of ten-year old’s. It didn’t sit well with any of them.
“Maybe they’re hibernating.” Squirrel said, commiserating with them. “Maybe they’re not dangerous in the winter.”
“Well those damn kids were. Pinpoint accuracy with those spears and arrows.” Jester complained, “and we had no idea where they were coming from. We were sitting ducks.”
“We do things different next time.” Richard said. “Next time we do it my way.”
“I say we leave them alone.” his step mom said. “They don’t have anything we need.”
Richard eyed her coldly and she dropped her gaze. She had spoken out of turn and bit her lower lip. Richard wasn’t kind when he was angry.
“They have something that I need.” he said, his eyes boring into her. “I want this Harper girl everyone is saying looks so wonderful. This beauty queen who hasn’t been used up.”
The words cut her but she knew better than to argue. Her husband was still stumbling around in the empty pool and that was all the reminder she needed that he could be cruel. If she knew what was good for her, she would keep her mouth shut.
Gordon started to protest, Harper was his girl, but stopped mid-sentence when Richard turned to stare him down, dared him to say something.
“You had your chance.” he continued, then turned to address the room. “They killed Smoke in case you’ve forgotten. He was my best friend. They can’t be allowed to get away with that. They started this war and we’re going to finish it. Next time, I’m leading us down there. Next time, the Landing doesn’t get its ass kicked by a bunch of little kids with oversized pets. Next time, we teach them who’s in charge.”
Richard raised the bottle then took a long pull of the tequila. He had sent his guys down expecting an easy victory and a few new girls but it had become more than that with the second defeat. He wasn’t used to losing, not in Hockey or baseball or life in general. Lowery’s were winners. Period. He absolutely positively would not let a bunch of middle schoolers embarrass him.
He had misjudged Gordon’s ability to lead. How hard could it be? They had superior numbers, superior firepower and the snowmobiles made it too easy. They could go anywhere; they weren’t confined to the roads or trails. If they ran into a horde, no problem. Take a left and go around them. Even the animals, the much-ballyhooed killer animals hadn’t made an appearance. Squirrel was probably right; they were all hibernating. It was too bad Smoke had gotten killed and not Gordon. Smoke had a head on his shoulders, he could be trusted.
Richard decided he would ease up on Gordy a little, let him think he was in charge of something. He’d let him strut around like he was important because the idiot got things done around the Landing. He liked to brag about how he’d survived in the wild and how he had killed more of the undead than all the rest of them combined. He talked big talk but so far, Richard was unimpressed. Gordy seemed to be fine as long as he was inside the walls. He fretted about the fences and supplies and that was good, somebody had to. He didn’t drink much or argue over whose turn it was with the girls so he had his uses. He’d proven that he couldn’t be trusted with any big plans though, any war plans, and there certainly would be war. Gordy couldn’t think on his feet, he couldn’t adapt and overcome.
Now that they’d been outside the gates, now that they’d seen it wasn’t so scary out there after all, there were whole new opportunities to explore. The undead were slow in the cold and the snowmobiles could take them anywhere so he started working on a plan of his own.
47
Donny
Donny ran, following the snowmobile tracks out of the hole in the fence and down the road. He paced himself and the big cat loped along beside him. The trail got confusing with all the undead footprints and other riders tracks but one set was a little fresher, a little less obscured by the falling snow. They had left him behind, his path much clearer and newer than the others. It was obvious Gordon wasn’t trying anything evasive, he was on a straight line right back to where ever he came from and Donny picked up the pace. Maybe he would have to stop to refill or maybe Swan would figure out some way to slow him down. Maybe he could catch him then.
Yewan stopped by the side of the road and waited. Donny looked back then slowed his pace. He tapped metal on metal.
Come.
Yewans yellow eyes watched him, a black shadow on white snow and flicked his tail. Donny stopped and retraced his footsteps to see what was intriguing the panther. He spotted the paw prints halfway down the slope and there was a splash of blood still visible. They hyenas had taken off through the woods but he wasn’t interested in them. He wanted to chase Gordon and Swan. He placed a hand on Yewan and tapped the metal again.
Come.
The cat ignored him and sprang lightly down the incline and disappeared into the woods. Donny glared after her but guessed she couldn’t smell Swan and Gordon, probably only the metal and gas of the machine. She could smell the wolves though and Swans smell was all over them. She was following that scent. He couldn’t leave her, she was no match for the two hyenas and he didn’t want to follow her, he wanted to chase Gordon. He finally slammed his spear in frustration and plunged in after her.
She was sniffing the body of one of the huge hunchbacked creatures when he burst through the brambles that grew thick at the side of the road and into the woods. The snow wasn’t as deep, the evergreen and spruce trees acted as natures canopies. The darkness was deeper, though. The same trees blotted out the moonlight. He spotted boot prints, small ones, and his eyes grew wide. One of them must have been carrying Swan. There were wolf prints, signs of a scuffle then all three sets went deeper into the forest. Donny was confused by what he saw but Swan had to be chasing after the Hyena, if it was chasing her, it would have caught her in a few quick bounds. He placed his forehead against Yewans, thanked her, then they were both running again, this time he let her lead.
They followed the prints and the smells across fields and back into woods. They wound down by the river and through the yards of long abandoned houses. They found the half eaten, half frozen body of Lucy but the trail continued, the wolf and the moccasins followed the giant paw prints of the Hyena.
The moon was waning and the heavy snows had tapered off when he found them. Yewan was sniffing a mound of snow at the base of a massive downed tree. Zero chuffed from inside the snowbank when he stooped to see what held her interest. He dug through and found them curled up in the hole the oak had left in the ground when it tumbled over. The roots, covered in years of vine growth, and the snow had made a cave and the two were huddled together. He crawled in with Yewan right behind him. She didn’t care much for the cold, she’d been fighting and running most of the night and it was warm and cozy inside.
“They killed Lucy.” Swan whispered and snuggled in closer to Zero, giving them room to lay down.
She was drained, completely exhausted from the fight, the long run and the heartache.
“Close the door.” she mumbled and drifted back to sleep.
He obliged, piling the snow back up to block out the cold and spread his cloak over them. He was worn out too and within minutes they were all sound asleep.
48
Diablo
Less than a mile from the tree where Swan sheltered, Diablo lay beneath an overturned boat near an empty cabin on the riverbank. His long tongue licked gingerly
at the wound in his shoulder where the wolf had torn the skin and underlying muscle. It throbbed incessantly, eliciting a whine from the savage creature. His body was covered in bites and claw marks from the she-wolf’s vicious attack. He’d never encountered another creature that was so fast and powerful and fearless. Even wounded with both of them tearing into her, she had punished him with fangs and claws. The cold and the snow perplexed the beast. It was arid, dry and hot in the warmer climes of the southwest where’d they’d been raised.
His clan mate was gone. He felt the loss and emptiness; they were social animals and rarely wandered by themselves.
He kept his senses alert. He was alone now and aware how other predators perceived a wounded animal. They would smell the blood and smell weakness. They would think he was easy prey. They would find out different. Diablo was a predator never seen in this part of the world and even wounded he was a match for anything that roamed the wilds.
Thirstily, he lapped mouthfuls of snow, seeking to parch his dried throat and rumbling belly. He’d have to hunt soon, the few bites he’d had of the wolf weren’t enough. He’d tired of carrying her mile after mile but the ones following him wouldn’t let him stop and eat. They kept coming. Even after the dropped her, they chased him for more miles before they finally stopped. After he could no longer sense them, he traveled farther. They were a danger; they had killed his clan mate and they were hunting him.
He crawled from under the shelter of the boat and instinctively sought higher ground to increase the chance of scenting some prey. The rotted ones on two legs were easy pickings, yet he didn’t smell any of them on the wind.
He limped slowly, the battle then the long run from the fight had greatly exhausted his energy reserves. His body burned calories much faster in an effort to keep him warm.
Unfamiliar smells caused his nose to twitch as something drew near. He exaggerated the limping motion of his walk, hoping to lure whatever predator that stalked him in closer. He whined, made a pitiful, helpless, wounded sound and sniffed the wind to know where the attack would come from. Soon he would feed.
The limbs above his head were filled with the flapping of wings as crows and ravens lighted on the icy, snow-covered boughs. They were too high and too quick and fell into the not food category. He ignored them.
The sounds of many feet crunching in the snow caused him to turn and face his downwind side. They stood there watching him. A multitude of eyes from a dozen different kinds of animals.
Diablo didn’t know what these creatures were. Most had unfamiliar scent patterns, more new things in this strange new land.
The scavenger animals stared at the wounded hyena. They were many in number and had learned to work together to bring down their prey. They were an unnatural selection of coyotes, raccoons, opossums, stray house cats, foxes and pigs gone wild. There were a few dogs still wearing their collars mixed into the bunch as they slowly formed a circle around the injured Diablo. They acted like a pack even though they were all different and this confused him more. How could such strange and diverse creatures hunt together?
He growled to warn them, low and rumbling from his thick chest. The pack alpha, a large mixed breed bullmastiff answered the growl and stepped forward. This Diablo understood. His former master had pitted him against such an animal many times in the past.
Diablo struck quick and the two slammed together, each pawing and ripping, snapping and biting, trying to sink teeth and tear flesh in a bloody mix of fur and fangs. The bullmastiff had been a family pet up until the fall of man. He was powerful and strong, twice the size of the coyotes in his band and had never lost a fight. He was the biggest, the most ferocious and led the mixed band of animals because they all shared the same hunger. The same craving, the same addictive need for the infected meat of the shuffling dead. He was fifty pounds lighter than the Hyena and he didn’t lack courage but he had never encountered a beast like Diablo.
The mastiff never had a chance.
The hyena had jaws that could snap water buffalo bones and when he clamped down on the dogs neck, he didn’t bite and tear. He didn’t rag him back and forth. He crushed down with the force of a hydraulic press and the Mastiff went limp. Diablo ground his jaws until the head popped off and the body fell to the snow. He growled at the band of animals again then held the dog in place with an oversized paw as he bit open the belly, snapped ribs and gobbled down the still beating heart. He stuffed himself on the entrails and never took his eyes off the surrounding pack. A coyote darted in to grab a bite and Diablo slashed at him. The coyote yipped and melted back into the hungry animals to lick his wound.
The hunchbacked creature stood in defiance, wolfing down the flesh of the dog as the pack stared motionless at him. His shoulder was bleeding freely but he ignored it. He was asserting his supremacy, daring any of them to attack.
His appetite momentarily sated, he turned and limped through the forest, seeking a new place to rest and heal his injured body.
The remaining animals quickly stripped the flesh from the corpse of the dog, leaving only bones for the birds to fight over. They picked up the trail of the hyena and followed the scent of their Alpha.
49
Kodiak
The tribe fretted and worried all the next day. They fixed the fence, took care of the animals, milked the cow and fed the chickens, but mostly they stayed in the living room and waited. The sun made an appearance in the cloudless blue sky and the snows were melting fast. They had tried to follow Donny’s tracks but it was already too late by the time they could no longer sit still and wait. They couldn’t follow what was no longer there. Annalise puttered around in the kitchen and made comfort food, the triplets played with their foxes and the wolf cubs and everyone else tinkered with their armor and weapons to make minor improvements. Yesterday’s battle haunted some of them: it was the first time they had experienced the violence and brutality of kill or be killed in such a chaotic fight. They all had close calls whether it was a zombie clamping filthy teeth down on protected arms or losing their grip on a blood-slicked weapon. They remembered how it happened, too.
Gordon.
They didn’t understand how anyone could be so cruel, so evil. He wasn’t alone, either. Every one of the snowmobile boys had been willing to kill them and it was all for nothing. They weren’t starving, they didn’t need a protected place to stay, and they didn’t need anything. In fact, they had much more in their gated community than the tribe had. They had electricity and hot running water and guns.
They were slowly coming to grips with something Kodiak already understood. Some people didn’t need a reason to hurt someone, they did it because they could and they couldn’t be reasoned with. They only understood and respected superior strength. Fear was the only thing that would keep them away and they didn’t fear the children or the animals. They had been over confident and had been outsmarted but they weren’t afraid. They were angry. They would be back for revenge; they had no doubt about that.
“Donny and Swan are back.” Murray said from his watch on the window and the room emptied to run outside and greet them.
Zero was favoring one paw and had drying blood in his fur but most of it wasn’t his. Swan was wearing the hide from one of the hyenas draped over her shoulders. It was huge on her. With the head acting as a hood, the tail dragged the ground. They hugged and didn’t have to ask about Lucy, she told them and most had tears in their eyes when they heard.
“You two get inside, get some dry clothes.” Harper told them. “Vanessa and I will stretch the hide.”
Swan shrugged it off, still bloody with bits of hanging flesh, and handed it to them. It would make a fine cloak once it was cleaned and cured and the hatchet slashes were sewn.
Donny handed him his old cigarette lighter, the one Derek had given him.
“It was at the church.” Swan said. “We saw the smoke when we came out of the woods, it was still smoldering. It had been full of zombies, that’s where he got them.”
> So, Gordy had stolen it, too. He should have guessed. One more reason for payback.
They celebrated Christmas a day later but a cloud of apprehension and sadness hung over them and continued for weeks after. As the weather stayed a little above freezing, the zombies started returning, stumbling into the parking lot and congregating at the front gate. They were too slow to lead off, it would take forever so they wound up spearing many of them. The warm spell would be over soon, though. A white Christmas in Iowa was never a sure thing but zero-degree temperatures in January were.
They talked of leaving but they would have to travel far to be out of the reach of Gordon and his gang and who’s to say there wasn’t someone just as bad or even worse a hundred miles down the road. They did what they could to fortify the house and had drills to see how quickly they could gather and put the wood shudders over the windows. There was no way to monitor or protect the fence line, it stretched for miles so the house became their fortress. Their last stand. Swan had extra arrows placed in strategic locations and they added perches on the roof where she could have a clear shot at those below. Vanessa and Donny used up all the supplies they had to make spears and then started carving more from tree limbs.
Kodiak oversaw it all but knew it was futile. He put himself in Gordons place and asked what would Gordon do?
Gordon would come with the next snow because it was the way they traveled and the threat of the undead was low.
Gordon wouldn’t be overconfident next time.
Gordon would be careful.
Gordon would have a sniper shoot anyone that popped up, especially the animals.
Gordon would set fire to the house.
Gordon would win.
Animals Page 27
