RAGE

Z is for Zombie Book 3

catt dahman

1

Zs

He wasn’t a true soldier by the old rules or before the infection swept the world and wiped out most of the population with a cruel, nightmarish infection. He wasn’t professionally recruited and trained.  He was a regular, hard-working truck driver, minding his own business, getting ready to propose to a lovely lady he loved, and preparing to start an exciting part of his adulthood since he owned his own home now, but then that all changed seemingly overnight.

He was a newly trained soldier following Colonel Davis and was a certified, well-oiled, hardened zombie-killing machine, or he was a scared man who chopped up the shambling creatures to keep from being eaten, depending on how you might want to spin the details.

He was a machine that still sometimes vomited when he killed them. Or smelled them. Or sometimes, when he just saw them coming at him with their milky, shark-like eyes, filthy hands groping, and rotting, shuffling bodies, he puked. The fear and disgust never left him.

Joseph was a man with a gun, a plan, and soldiers behind him. They looked as green as he felt, green, as in nauseous, not unprepared.

A time was when everyone constantly teased him about his zombie apocalypse fascination in real life, on Face Book, and all of the other Internet sites that he visited. He suspected no one thought it was so funny now, but he wasn’t glad he was right; he would rather be wrong about zombies being possible.  Preppers of the apocalypse did only slightly better than the rest since they were no more immune to the infection than anyone else.

His bug-out bag saved his life when he escaped from his neighborhood and joined up with the Colonel because he had the proper supplies. His water, matches, MREs, and gun made it possible for him to survive the new, violent world. He wished he had added a quart of vodka and some soothing nerve meds to the bag as well, but he didn’t, and here he was.

“Heads up,” he called. Joseph watched the men with him raise their guns to fire at the little group of walking dead who shambled up the road toward their little roadblock.

One was a female, naked and brutalized, with injuries; her skin was rubbed off in spots, bones smoothed, and toes torn off by the lifestyle or death style. In addition, she was missing most of her fingers and a big chunk of one leg that wept fluids down her legs, along with her feces and urine, making a horrible stench. Furthermore, she was missing an ear and parts of her hair, and her lips were torn off, showing her broken bottom teeth, filthy with rot and blood which made her look more frightening. Along with all of that, a flap of skin was long-dried and partially rotted; it hung from her neck, left after being ripped loose when she was attacked and infected. Fat showed beneath the flap, yellow and gooey.  It was eye watering, despite the fact that the entire city reeked of rot, a cesspool of disease.

A man with most of his messy face gnawed to the skull moaned as he clawed and clutched at the air, drooling as he saw the soldiers. His arms were basically just bones, dark red and black, with only tatters of flesh remaining and rotting. The hand of one was already gone, left to sit on some street, uncaringly left behind.

The third shambler was probably a female but so torn up and eroded by the elements and the environment that it was hard to tell much about it except the person had been thin. In a few weeks, it wouldn’t be walking anymore as it was just too beaten up to move much more.

All three must have been fighters to be that torn up, but they lost the battle since they were infected, moaning and shambling idiots, hungry for human flesh and blood.

They once were people with thoughts and dreams. Now, they were puppets of rot used by the disease to multiply the infection.

Joseph and the others fired at the ghouls, finding a strange happiness in seeing the blood and brains splatter out behind of them in slimy clumps and stomach-churning splatters. Every one of these dead was one less who could spread the horror.

As all three fell over, finally dead, the men cheered, despite the stench. Three less were three less who could infect others. Joseph cocked his head; he still heard the moaning, and it was getting louder and closer. He knew right then what was about to round the corner and be on them within seconds.

“Get ready. We have company,” he called to the other men.

Several hundred Zs, coming around the corner, shambling, sprinting slowly, and working their way toward the men, were unnerving and frightening.  Joseph knew he and the others couldn’t handle this many. When they came at people in a group, like this, the group was several thousand pounds of flesh that didn’t get tired or feel pain, never got bored or lost interest in prey, and wouldn’t pull away or be afraid. Ever.

Unless the shamblers’ heads were blown off, they wouldn’t stop coming for any reason. In addition, they formed a loudly moaning phalanx as they funneled in and smelled worse than any spoiled meat or garbage dump; it was mentally challenging to face them.

They were all reminded that these were once humans. They only fought to eat and share the infection; they had one drive: to bite.

Getting a headshot was a lot more difficult than people imagined. Joseph always thought all it took was an AK-47, and they would be chewed up by the bullets and would fall dead to the ground. They were harder to hit in the head than he imagined, and when one went down, ten more were behind.

They took a few shots, but no way could five men kill two hundred fast enough to survive.

Joseph used one of the grenades he carried. “Fire in the hole,” he yelled, and they ducked behind the roadblock.

Body parts, whole bodies, guts, and blood flew all over as they exploded. The front line of zombies went down, but some of the heads, attached or decapitated, still chomped and moaned. Joseph, gagging at the sight, threw another grenade at the next section, and they shot at the ones who got through.

The five men were on edge, so only one shot was a headshot.

He threw another grenade and another, but bodies rose with open cavities and lost parts; the horde didn’t stop with pain or fear.  Joseph thought maybe less than a quarter was put down with grenades, maybe less. Some on the ground used broken arms and partially severed hands to keep crawling, their jaws still snapping; they left blood trails like the slime left behind snails.

Joseph saw his men were ready to retreat; the zombies were practically on top of them. Psychologically, the men were beaten already. One man Tommy yelped as he beat at one of the Zs with the butt of his gun while trying to get to the vehicle. His eyes were huge with fear. Another jumped at him, clutching at his shirt and hair.

One of the soldiers with Joseph and Tommy shot those two who attacked Tommy, but three or four took their places to grab and snap their jaws. Tommy screamed as one latched onto his arm with a huge bite force, trying to get through all the muscle and skin to tear off its food.

Tommy jumped to the side with a huge section torn from his arm; the wound was splashing blood everywhere as he tried to get away. A child dove in for his fingers, and although Tommy pounded at its head and battered its face, it didn’t back off. It chewed off his fingers at the joints. He went down to the ground as two more leaped at him.

Mack, the soldier, was on his back on the pavement, slapping and shoving them off of his neck, but more grabbed at him so that he was unable to get up. Mack slammed a gun down, but a woman got his elbow, crunching and swinging her head like a dog, tearing and ripping while he cried and screamed for help.

There was no help for the screaming men.

Joseph and the other two men ran toward the vehicles since this mission was lost to the Zs.  “Fall back. Fall back.”

More zombies came around the corner, moaning at their prey, hoping for food, but the other two men were close to death and might be infected and gone before the others could feed.

Another grenade flew to blow up Mack, Tommy, and the walking dead ghouls, which were uncaring about the pooling blood and screams of the dying men. Joseph jumped into the driver’s seat, but the Range Rover wouldn’t start; the gasoline had evaporated, and the new gasoline wasn’t working as the sludge ruined the engine. This was a common event.

Jerome slapped the seat in front of him. “Why aren’t we moving? Go.”

“It isn’t starting….” Joseph felt helpless as he watched the zombies crawl and walk, covering the vehicle, slapping hands on it, smashing fists into windows, and even chomping at the windows so that they left bloody, slimy greenish drool and rot on the glass.

In seconds, at least a hundred were surrounding the Range Rover, pushing and battering to get inside Alan’s window first. He tried to lean away; he shot until a stray hand pulled his gun away. One zombie leaned over the glass, cutting its belly open without caring.

Joseph’s ears were deafened by his own gunshot; the nasty thing, weighing two hundred pounds, fell into the passenger seat, pinning Alan in his seat. Alan could hardly manage to wipe away the body fluids that dripped onto him and into his eyes and mouth. The smell made them all gag, and they added vomit to the nauseating mess.

Kicking her way in, a female squeezed through the broken window, her jaws snapping wildly; Alan tried to push her back out, losing fingers as he did. He screeched. “Get her off of me; Joe, do something.”

Joseph again tried to start the engine as Jerome reached forward to beat at the female, but she slid in farther with the crush behind her and then popped inside.

The woman clawed Joseph’s arm open and took a bite from his arm and swallowed, and for a second, she turned to Alan, still pinned, and darted her head to take off his ear.

Then, the female lunged over, slamming her face into Joseph’s crotch where she bit, making him scream with pain. Blood covered his lap. Joseph fought back, crying, but the pain was searing in his lap area and in his thighs and stomach. He fired his gun randomly, in fear, panic, and confusion. Alan gurgled as a bullet opened up his throat.

Joseph felt cold. Since his hands no longer seemed to be working, he sat and watched his ropey, grey intestines pulled out and chewed on. He was faintly aware they were his own.

A man, coming in through the window, took the woman’s place, and pushed his way into the car. He held Alan’s arm and began gnawing frantically. At the same time, a hand snaked in, grabbed Alan’s hand, and began to pull and chew.

With Alan no longer fighting back, a zombie pulled Alan’s arm partially through the window of the vehicle and bit until it ripped away. The man leaning into the car went for the bleeding throat and ripped the flesh away, gulping.

From inside the vehicle, the noise of the moaning and screaming, plus the deafness from the shot, was over whelming. Blood flew everywhere. The creatures didn’t show any pleasure in the food, just bit and gulped as any great white shark would rip and swallow.

Jerome tried to open his door, but the mass of flesh was too heavy against it. His window cracked into spider webs.

Neither the man nor the woman had enough sense to understand how to get back out of the vehicle, so after their victims were dead and infected, they clawed at each other and then reanimated Alan and Joseph. All four wiggled without caring how they ruined their own bodies and eventually were able to get to Jerome.

Another Z squirmed into the Range Rover to join in the feast. Jerome didn’t even fight back when they came after him. He couldn’t get away, and he used his knife to die before they tore him apart, but he wasn’t bleeding fast enough. The cut wrists poured blood, but the zombies got to him first, ripping their way into his body.

None of them could get out immediately, just stayed trapped until they finally crawled and finally fell out of the window, adding the men to their numbers. The horde was building; they kept moving to find more food, joined by hundreds more that followed them at times and went off in another direction at other times. It was an ever-changing mass of ruined zombies.

Colonel Davis was forced to call that mission a failed attempt.

It wasn’t the only mission that failed, and he wondered how Len at Hopetown took civilians and trained them to be efficient Z killers. Len’s people never backed down and seldom lost a fight with the Zs.

They settled at the airport, training men and women to fight back, trying to get some sense of normalcy back in their lives, but the day after losing his best team (Joseph, the kid who seemed to be a bit prone to getting sick, but still with leadership capabilities), a new threat arrived.

With the hair on his arms sticking straight up, Colonel Davis met the newcomers: a heavily tattooed man named Frank, a man with yellow-tinted glasses named Roy, a weird character called Lucas who dressed in black and talked oddly, and a child of no more than five or six who looked normal on one half of his face but who seemed to have melted features on the other side. The child was Pascal, and his one good eye was malevolent and glittered dangerously.

Davis’ men immediately knew this group was trouble. He talked big and tried to sound confident; he tried to say the Reconstruction Army was a rag-tag bunch led by idiots, but the truth was that it had mad men leading them and the kid. Pascal giggled when he wasn’t glaring, and Lucas, his father, asked the child to put on a little show of what they called “tricks”, which were actually veiled threats.

Pascal used zombies, whom he didn’t touch but who obeyed his orders, to move like puppets

Davis, shrewd himself, could tell the child was hit-or-miss on his abilities, lost concentration easily, and could handle only a few for limited amounts of time. But then Pascal performed a last trick.

Frank brought a woman forward, bound and bruised. She was dirty and had sad eyes. Without much fanfare, Lucas asked Pascal to show Colonel Davis what a plague of boils looked like, citing Biblical punishments.

It wasn’t easy for Pascal; he looked bored but glared at the woman, his withered face set in concentration.  Her skin began to bubble. Her face, arms, and legs broke out in big ulcerations of pus that made her drop to the ground with pain.

Davis’ men stepped back a little and shivered.

With a matter-of-fact tone, Frank explained that he and Lucas would take over the army and that anyone who objected would be dealt with quickly.

David should have fought back then, but he was scared; he admitted that much. Frank moved his raggedy army in, the whores (women he kidnapped and forced to be sex slaves), his entertainment (people he meant to torture to death), his slaves, and his men in their pseudo-Nazi uniforms, their supplies, and junk.

David didn’t think anything after that could shock him, but when he saw the former President of the United States, broken and thin, with the RA, he didn’t fight the take-over anymore. The leader of the great nation was just a shell of a man and periodically spouted President-sounding remarks.

The country was lost.

2

Revenge

The mechanics of the compound swore the vehicles wouldn’t fail to start and that there was no sludge in the gasoline tanks, but they predicted that the age of automobiles would soon put them in the past; in another year, cars would be the dinosaurs, and horses would be the choice for travel. Gradually going back to the old basic times was a hard change but wasn’t often complained about.

It was a difficult vote for the members of the US Militia to choose their teams to go out on the hunt. Many wanted to go out and track down the woman and child who brought the infection into their camp and caused the deaths of so many.

Each presented a case to be on a team going out, knowing it was very dangerous and wouldn’t be met by everyone’s approval in the world beyond the fence.  But each had an interest in going to find the ones who caused so much distress.

The woman and child inoculated and called hybrid because they were immune to the prions but highly contagious, were unable to contain their cravings for raw meat.  So they ate one of the men of the compound and infected a few others. In the ensuing chaos, others were infected and killed, and the woman and child escaped.

In one vehicle was Kimball since his interest was in killing the pair whom he befriended and brought into the compound, not knowing they were vaccinated against catching the infection but not against infecting others. They fooled him into their being a part of the community, and he was angry.

Kim was beside Len who lost his girlfriend. He still couldn’t imagine the terror she went through when she was pushed into an oncoming horde of zombies and was unable to do anything to save herself since she was blind.  She was unable to see the approaching horde, was knocked backwards, was attacked, torn apart, and infected before she was mercifully put down. His adopted daughter was also a victim.

Matt was with them as well, his position earned through his own bravery, hard work, and valor in his last mission into the outside world.  Although he was one of the youngest on the team, at nineteen, he was also one of the most dependable and hardest working people.  Matt wanted to see the pair put down since he felt it was part of his duty to protect and serve the compound.

Johnny was the only female on this team but was one of the original crew who hid in a hospital. Maryanne had been a close friend of hers; she carried all of the combined fury of the women who mourned the loss of a good person.

In the second vehicle was Juan, who represented Beth in this venture since she was too pregnant to join in the mission; he was still beyond livid at the destruction that Carla and Robbie caused, risking Beth’s life at several points during the night as the infection was inside the compound. If Carla had been able to get to Beth, she would have infected her with malice.

Big Bill was there, having won his place from his many battles that he never backed down from and that he never seemed to fear the danger of.  He was always, somehow, the calming force that was needed in battles.

Nick, a good fighter, sat in the back, but as the President of the United States’ brother, he might do well with dealing with the re-building of the US Army led by Colonel Davis. He almost frothed at the chance to exact some justice.

Carl was the eighth member of the team, and he was a bit of a dare devil, way too brash, and a risk-taker, and the one everyone wanted to be watching his back in a fight. His loyalty was unquestionable.

“There we go,” Carl said as they saw a stalled car in the center of the street. “That’s the car they took when they tore out of Hopetown. Maybe its gas tank was sludged up and quit on ‘em.”

Both cars stopped, and the teams carefully climbed out, watching all areas for an ambush, careful of shambling zombies, but they heard only silence. The car was sitting alone and abandoned with all four doors flung open. They walked forward with guns at the ready, but inside were three bodies, all dead, and none infected or re-animated. They had wounds: slit throats and stabbed chests, and chewed down-to-the-bone arms and legs. They were partially eaten.

“She’s vicious,” Len said. The three dead people left the safety of the compound with Carla and Robbie, fearing the infection.   The pair was far worse since they were hybrids and were vaccinated against the prion disease that caused the zombie infection.  They were not only infectious themselves, but also were immune from most pain, angry at times, dependent on raw meat, and good fighters.

“When I was out there and met her, we ran into a few people, and Zs were chasing them; she helped fight Zs, and then when two were wounded, she shot one and offered to sit with one and pray and then put him down. She said she buried him. She wanted to be alone with them to supposedly pray with him, bitch. She was so bloody from the fight that I didn’t notice, but I bet she ate him too,” Kim said, remembering. “I didn’t even suspect such a thing about her and the kid. Who knew?”

“Wow. They even eat infected?”

“I guess so. I didn’t think of that before.”

“I’m gonna puke,” Matt said.

“Yep. Wow. She’s a real bitch: ate them and ate those others, just like the fucking zombies; only she has a working brain, no excuse,” Kim said.

“She’s worse than a Z,” Nick said. “I wish they would catch her and pull her to pieces. Hell. I never used to say and think things like that, but she didn’t have to do this; she had a choice.”

“We’ve changed. We have stronger rules now for what is right and wrong. Capital punishment is popular.”

“That dead cow we thought animals got, guess it was her and the kid, but that didn’t feed them long…wasn’t enough, so they went after that poor man, infected his whole family after they cut his throat and ate him, sick bitch.” Len agreed.

Johnny nodded. “Andie would have died if Carla had had time to finish cutting her throat. I guess if I can, am forced to maybe kill a good friend if he is infected, then I can sure kill a murderer these days.”

“Their throats are cut, and they’ve been eaten; it’s a mess,” Matt said as he stepped back from the car, closing the doors on one side. “She wasn’t very grateful for the company, and they were pretty hungry, I guess. How could they just eat people like that? She isn’t a mindless zombie; she did it by choice.”

“She left us a message…knew we’d be coming for her sorry ass,” said Carl as he showed them the trunk and a message written in the dust.

There were two words. Carla Hendricks.

“That was in case we didn’t realize what and who she and the kid are. We’re smarter than she is,” Carl said.

“No, we didn’t figure it out in time,” Kim said, “We weren’t smart enough.”

“Wasn’t Hendricks the name of the guy who was one of the first hybrids…like he got the first vaccine?” Matt asked.

“Yup. Now we know. She must have been right up there as one of the first of Dr. Diamond’s vaccinated.” Kim kicked at a rock in disgust. “She gave us the answer of who she is.” He spat on the ground, feeling nausea roll around insides as he thought about how cold hearted some people could be.

“Seems like a lot of blood for them to be trailing.”

Len eyed it curiously, nodding at Johnny. “I think one of them is injured. Good, so much for their thinking they are superman or something. They bleed like everyone else.”

“I like that,” Johnny said. It is a bad thing when perfectly good people have to fear nuts like these who would do things like this and leave people murdered and rotting in a car. The infection hadn’t made people more evil, but they did bad things because they thought they could get by with them. Seems many didn’t understand justice and accountability for actions. It was supposed to be black and white, right and wrong, bad and good, and people somehow thought that didn’t apply?

“Let’s trail them and get this done,” Juan said. He was ready to finish the job and get home although he wasn’t sure what home was all about. Johnny switched places with Nick in the vehicle as she saw how stressed Juan was. He was pacing and fidgeting, wringing his hands at times.

He, like Beth, thought Kim wasn’t returning to the compound although they didn’t fully understand his reasoning.  Juan stepped into her life, falling for her and was beginning to raise her adopted children.

Now Kim was back, and Beth was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. It made it harder that Kim was a good, loyal man that Juan was unable to dislike.

“Calm down,” Johnny told him, “It’s all okay.” She patted his arm. They had been good friends a long time, and it was difficult to see him so torn up and worried about anything. Who would have known there would be personal drama when they already had zombies?

“I don’t like leaving Beth alone; I don’t like a lot of stuff. Gee, with all the walking dead, can’t believe I don’t like something, huh?” Juan half-smiled.

“I know, it’s not easy to deal with, but it’s one of those things we have to deal with in this new world order; nothing’s easy or okay anymore, but we’ve dealt with worse, Hon. You’re both good men.”

“It would be easier if I hated him, but I like Kim,” Juan admitted. “He is a good man.”

“All I say is wait ‘til Little Miss has her baby; don’t add to her worries,” Big Bill said. He wasn’t one for a lot of conversation, but what he said made sense. When he spoke, people listened. “You all will figure it out later when that baby gets here safely. Everything works out in the right way if you give it time.”

“Whoever was injured isn’t in pain, so he is moving fast,” Carl said. “I wish he felt pain like the rest of us. Pain is a good thing, sometimes.”

“Kinky,” Johnny said, making him laugh. “Naw, I know what ya mean, Carl. I like giving you a rough time.”

They came along side the rest at a corner pharmacy, which seemed clear of Zs, other than the dead ones that littered the entrance. The ones on the ground were shot, mangled from their transition, and showed torn limbs and rot, but they were finished off and kicked to the side like trash. It smelled bad like the rest of the city. “Keep watch,” Len ordered Juan’s group as the four others went inside the store.

It was looted long before: of food, water, medicines, and most supplies, but in the center aisle, were an empty roll of tape and an open box of menstrual maxi-pads, amid some blood and footprints. “I think the kid is hurt,” Kim said. “They used the tape and pads to bandage him.”

A few dead zombies were in another aisle, having been left to rot and ooze onto the floor for months. Other than burning the whole city, no way was available to ever clean up the smell, disease, and germs.

“No antibiotic creams or water to clean with…no alcohol, so they stopped the bleeding, but that’s not really good enough. It’s quite a bit of blood really. Someone is gonna be in real trouble in a little while. That was smart to use the pads, impressive.”

Kim knew that and agreed with Len since he had lived as a prisoner of an opposing, radical army:  did not have proper medical supplies and had infections in his wounds. “So where would you go if you were Carla and had a injured kid and were a hybrid?”

“To hell,” Len quipped.

“Hybrid, oh, no, they are just vaccinated, normal people who don’t get infected, never mind they carry the infection, can make other people zombies, and eat healthy humans because they get hungry, just like a frigging zombie.” Matt rolled his eyes with his sarcastic statement.

“Freaks. Monsters, worse than zombies.”

“Well, if I were a freak and hurt, I’d go join the other freaks,” Nick said with a shrug and a chuckle.

“Yep, the rag tag remains of the US Army that made them; that makes sense,” Len said. “Who else would want them?”

He got together with them, and they took some time to reason out a plan and contingency plans, as well, that made sense under the circumstances, suggesting possible outcomes.

They skirted the city, trying to avoid the hordes of zombies but still saw many groups of them. They estimated that the number in and around the city had to be close to a hundred thousand by now as the creatures hunted out survivors, hiding in houses, churches, and other places.  They were followed by the moaning of the undead, since at times, they needed to get more supplies.

Survivors from the east, west, and north often came through the city as well, instead of taking the long way around and were attacked in their travels. Eventually, some of these would converge on the compound and would have to be dealt with.

Len wasn’t overly surprised to see the small group of military-styled soldiers waiting for them on Interstate 30. He was surprised to see the two tanks they acquired, but they didn’t look to be in great condition quite yet.

“Hello there.” Len grinned. “What a nice greeting party.”

“Colonel Len Bernhart? I’m Sergeant Ed Myers. Can we hear who the rest of the gentlemen are?”

Len was impressed that people knew him by sight now. “Kimball, Matt, and Nick. Is there a reason you have guns on us?”

“We have orders to bring you in to meet with Colonel Davis and Dr. Diamond and others.” His voice dropped on the last two words. His eyes slid to the side, telling Len something was off.

“The Colonel wouldn’t have guns pointed at us.”

“No, but he isn’t in charge, now,” Ed Myers spoke quietly.

“You could have sent us an invitation,” Len said.

Myers didn’t look amused. “The Colonel expected you, so we were sent to meet you and bring you in safely. They want you to be safe, above all. He is trying to keep order here.”

“I guess we’ve been safe enough on our own,” Kim said. “But if you all think you could do better than we have in combat, all the same to me.” He found the former a strange thing for the man to have said. It was almost cryptic.

“We’ll have to ask for your guns. They will be returned when you leave.”

“We didn’t take your guns when you came for a visit; what makes you think you can take ours?” Matt asked. Sometimes, he sounded just like Len.

“The tank pretty much ensures it,” Myers told him.

“I doubt it is even running, but we’ll play along.”

They handed over their guns. When one of the men stepped forward for a weapons search, Len grinned, “If you feel real lucky, then try me, but I’m betting I can break your neck before your buddies get a shot. Your call.”

“It’s okay. We’re all friends,” Myers said, calling his man back. “If you’ll get into the trucks, we can head that way.”

Nick and Kim got in one and Len and Matt in the other. None of them talked much, but Len chattered to them anyway, remarking on various landmarks and things he saw. “Hey, are you guys hybrids? You got the infection in you?”

“Do I look like a zed?” one remarked.

Len shrugged, “Dunno, kind of, around the eyes, you do. You have that dumb look.”

“Asshole.”

“Stand down, soldier. Colonel Bernhart, I was warned that you have a wicked sense of humor. I can see that now. Please try to be calm and polite.”

“Awe, you flatter me; I doubt anyone said it that nicely.”

Myers finally laughed. “No, it was something along the lines of your being a smart-assed prick, but I think he meant it as complimentary.”

Len laughed hard.

The new army, run by the leaders of the RA, was headquartered at the airport; it was well set-up with scavenged military supplies and hundreds of people busy at work. Len purposely looked bored as he stepped out with the other men, pretending to stifle a yawn.

“Colonel Bernhart, Len, thanks for the visit,” Colonel Davis said nervously. He looked embarrassed to have lost his power over the army.

“Hi, there, Davis,” Len said. He introduced the men with him. “Wow, you sure have the windows on this place shining and clean; you’ll have to share with me how you do it: vinegar and newspaper? I need your secret.”

He enjoyed the annoyed glances he got. No way was he going to let them see he was nervous or worried; he was going to play off the cockiness as long as he could. He saw that the other Colonel wasn’t his usual self-assured self but seemed nervous. It made Len curious.

“Welcome to our compound. We just wanted to meet with you and settle some issues I think you have with us,” Davis said. “Before we move on, we can watch the men training.” The look he gave Len was a warning that Len didn’t understand.

“Great. Maybe we’ll get some tips on training.”

“I doubt that.”

“Oh, so you are aware, ”Kim said off-handedly. “You may notice that your favorite right hand man, Ponce, and a few others were missing tonight at check in. I don’t want you to worry; we met up with them….”

“And?” Davis again looked concerned, which was not his usual.

“If we don’t return to our friends, they’ll blow their brains out,” Kim said with a yawn to match Len’s. “I do like the shiny windows, too. We do need to get that secret,” he added, off-handedly.

They ignored the jaw clenching around them.

“Well, that’s fairly extreme; we’re all on the same side. We wish you no harm,” Davis said, repeating Myers. The tone and words made Kim and the rest frown. What was going on? This was not like the man they met before who was self-assured and warm.

In an open area outside, a man was drilling others in technique. He stopped as the group appeared and turned to look them over. He almost smiled as he recognized Kim.

Kim felt his stomach drop. Long ago, this man with a razor wire tattooed on his arms and neck stood in the hospital with the survivors, shooting and killing several, humiliating all he could, then escaping to join with some more rebels who ended up killing and eating people.

They hadn’t managed to catch him back then, so Len fed two of the man’s followers to the zombies to mimic the rape, torture, and murder they committed. It wasn’t something Len took pride in having done, but he went over the edge, watching a friend dying of bites from the zombies used to torture information out of him.

It was Frank.

Beside him stood another person they knew: a man named Roy who wore yellow-tinted glasses like Hank Williams, Junior, and was a racist, a sarcastic hindrance part of the time, and who almost had to have a zombie and bombs land on him before he believed they were real.  Sometimes, he was a good helper in fighting the threats they found in the rubble of the hospital where they all hid. Roy had once ‘kind of been one of them’ when they were in the hospital, when he wasn’t making racist remarks to most of them, and wasn’t making gay-bashing remarks to Alex.

“Are you sick?” Frank yelled to one of the men training with him.

“No, Sir. Just a touch of the flu is all. I’m okay, Sir.” He was surprised to hear the leader ask him about his health. He showed some symptoms, but he was  okay.

“Stomach and sinuses?”

“Yes, Sir.” He looked shocked that Frank even noticed him, wondering why suspicion was on his face. He wasn’t acting sick; in fact, he acted as fit as every man there; he was feeling even better today.

“Have you been wiping your nose?”

“Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Sir, I’m feeling much better.” The boy wondered what this was all about.

“Bloody nose? I’m pretty sure I saw blood.”

“No, Sir.”

“I saw the blood.”

“No, Sir, nothing like that with me.”

“You saying that I’m a liar? Or that I’m imagining things?” Frank demanded. His eyes glittered dangerously, but he was enjoying himself in front of his audience.

“No, Sir. I don’t have a bloody nose.”

“So you’re saying I made a mistake? I don’t make mistakes.”

The boy didn’t know how to get out of this.

“Is this the beginning of the Flux again: the virus that killed off fifty percent of my country? Are you carrying a contagious virus?”

Men around the boy stepped back; the mention of Flux was frightening, even now. No one wanted to be around the hemorrhagic virus that piggybacked the prion disease, which caused people to become zombies. There weren’t any new cases since the outbreak, months before that took so many, yet that didn’t alleviate the fear.

How could anyone forget friends and loved ones contacting the virus: blood from every bodily orifice, vomit, the diarrhea, and coma, and then awakening to zombie-hood.

With no hospitals or rescue stations functioning past the first one percent of infection, everyone bled, died in his homes, and then got up to chase down family and consume them.

“I think you have the Diamond Flux.”

“No, you’re wrong; I don’t….”

“I’m what?” Frank asked quietly. “Do you know what that constitutes, telling me, a commander, that I am wrong? Tell him,” he demanded of another man.

“It constitutes treason, Sir.”

“Penalty?”

“Death, Sir.”   A slight hesitation came from Michaels.

“Take care of it, then.” Frank was impatient. Seconds ticked by. “Is there a problem?”

“Ummm.” Michaels now hesitated as the boy began to cry, not bothering to reach for his own sidearm.

“I ain’t sick, and you know I ain’t,” the boy said. “This is wrong; it’s murder is all.”

No one looked at him.

Michaels glanced towards Colonel Davis.

Frank growled and turned to a different man, “If a soldier is given an order and doesn’t follow it, what is the act called, soldier?”

This one, Gerwald, didn’t even pause. “It is treason, Sir, punishable by execution.” He drew his sidearm, fired once to Michael’s head, turned the gun, and shot the boy in his head, as well. With a cold stare, he asked, “Anything else, Sir?”

“Not now. Well done, soldier. You may all go.” He and Roy came over to greet Colonel Davis and the other men. “I see we have guests.”

“Like you didn’t notice that before you put on your little show of intimidation?” Len asked with a scowl. “That was uncalled for.”

Davis gave him a warning look that Len didn’t understand.

“You are funny,” Frank stated. “Did the Colonel tell you we joined up?”

“I think he forgot to mention that.” Len was worried now as he heard this; he had been wary before he was told.

“Oh, God,” Matt moaned, imagining what this meant for them and wondering how the Colonel and his men had fallen in with such a bad group of people.

“Oh, what a shame he forgot. Yes, we are one entity now; he saw the wisdom of our tanks…er…talks. We have joined forces, and he was professional enough to recognize our superior leadership.”

“Is that so?” Kim asked. “I find that strange.” Kim suddenly felt they were going to die. This was what Davis said with his fearful eyes. Davis was a figurehead at best but had no power at all. They had walked into a trap.

“It isn’t. I think he’s been most impressed with what we have to offer…or who…wait until you get to meet little Pascal and his father, Lucas.”

“God,” Matt repeated.

Frank laughed, “No, that’s the last thing you’d find here; there is no god.”

3

Reconstruction Army

Colonel Davis led Len, Matt, Nick, and Kim into a room with a big table and cushioned chairs. They had sodas and were made comfortable. Len and Kim stopped making smart remarks as they tried to make sense of the changes in the Colonel’s military group.

“I’m sure you have some questions spinning in your head, Len. And, Kim, didn’t I last see you chained to a tree and in cuffs?” Frank laughed.

“Yep, that was me with the infected lashes on my back…left you a treat…if you ever went back and found your men: the scalped ones? I left them for you,” Kim said.

“Oh, nice job by the way, scalping; wow, you’d make a helluva RA member,” Frank said. “I was impressed with your work. You wanna be one of my men?”

“Nah. Swastikas aren’t my thing.”

“What a shame. We could use your talents.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Davis told us you are less than happy with Dr. Diamond.”

“That’s an understatement. I heard you have some of the bad ones with you. He called them demons, said they ate people and other crazy shit.”

“Ehhh, yep, we do have some good, long pig roasts,” Frank said, “maybe not as roasted as raw.”

“Wow, all that meat; I think it causes people to become imbeciles, or if they already are, it causes delusions. You having them yet?”

Frank chuckled.

Len said, “You don’t worry about contagious people? Could have sworn you just had a man shot over a bloody nose.”

“I put them down.”

“The hybrids?”

“Yep. Once I heard what they were, well, we don’t like diseased people.”

“Never thought we’d have a common feeling, Frank,” Len said. “We’re here looking for a hybrid woman and child; they infected some of ours and got some people killed. Named Carla and Robbie. Hendricks.”

“I wish I had thought of sending a few in to wipe out all of you, missed out on that idea. Haven’t seen them. Women have one use here with us, and children have no use at all,” Frank said. He smiled as the door opened. “Davis, we have seen those two?”

“No. I knew Hendricks and his wife. She and the kid didn’t come here.”

“That’s all we came here for. Since you haven’t seen them, I guess we can move on now, no reason to wear out our welcome,” Kim said.

“Oh, stay a bit and see our surprise guests.”

The other leaders came inside. It was as if an arctic wind had blown in as Lucas walked through the door, tall, haughty, dressed in black, with an evil half-grin on his face. He was darkness and dread personified. His son, Pascal was with him, dressed like his father, half of his face handsome in a dark, cold way, the other side withered and deformed so that he had only one eye.

The third man was the President of the United States.

Nick slide down in the chair, glad he wore the hat, wore a stubble, and wore sunglasses. His brother might recognize him, but Nick felt glad to see Alan alive but also sick that his brother would be with these people. His one positive thought was that Alan didn’t look like himself; he was detached, lost, and confused-looking.

“Welcome. I wish you had been here to enjoy Pascal’s sermon today; it was particularly informative and thought provoking.”

“Sorry, we missed that,” Len said, “I like provocative bullshit. Even from a kid although I can’t say that is my style of entertainment.”

“He reminded us why we had this plague brought down on us.”

“Oh, he was upset about Dr. Deadly and the biological terror he released?”

“You are very misguided. The world brought this on with its sinful, less-than-perfect ways: niggers, spics, Jews, and chinks having voting rights in America! Queers out in public and having parades, women working and taking jobs from men, not in their rightful places: abomination.

Drugs and drunkards: it was wrong, and the plague and fires rained down on us because of all of that. We allowed the weak and worthless to be in control, so we were wiped out with weakness and the sick and infected as punishment. Only the strong shall inherit the world,” Lucas intoned.

Len rolled his eyes. “So you think God didn’t like all of that and punished us?” He felt the world had gone insane although some people spoke like this before the plague.

“No, we punished ourselves. We cleansed ourselves. We did it; isn’t that ironic justice?”

“Really?” Kim asked. “You say all of that is wrong: picking on people because of skin color or religion or gender or ideals, but then torture is okay and whipping people? Chaining them and making them slaves?”

“Brother Pope will tell you the same: Old Testament, chum; read it. And the ones who refuse to hear the word of Pascal are crucified because they will not listen. It was always just to punish slaves, stone the wicked, and take out the first- born.

Read, my friend; read. God was trying to follow the true order of the world, but then his kid came along, was too tenderhearted, and did all the forgiving, just started letting the lesser people think they were equal.”

Len, for the first time, was almost speechless after hearing that speech. It offended him in too many ways to even list. “Forgiving is wrong?” he muttered, trying to understand how this man believed.

“Read, Son, read.”

“I have. Did you miss the second half?”

“There is only Pascal’s half,” Lucas said mystically.

Len wondered about that last statement. Pascal had half of a face, and Lucas said there was only Pascal’s half. Odd. But he went a different way. “Pope?”

“Yes, and here he is now, the man you stole the compound from.” Lucas opened the door and made a motion.

Norman Pope, former television evangelist, came into the room in a rush and sat down smiling. He looked smaller and crazier than he had looked on television.

“Awe, the kiddie porn collector,” Matt muttered in disgust.

Pope held a hand out and said, “The words of an infidel do not harm me.”

“Infidel? Gotta love that,” Matt said, “you pervert.”

Len and Kim laughed aloud.

“Okay, whatever, we came to see the Colonel and to find out if the woman and kid, the hybrids, came back here, simple as that. If they aren’t here, then we have no reason to stay here. I don’t need a lesson in warped Biblical style; this is too far out for me to comprehend,” Len said.

“You don’t have to comprehend it; just accept it on faith, practice it, and follow it. There is a new world order.”

“I thought you preached for God; you said He was gonna send a demon after you if you didn’t get several million bucks,” Matt countered. “I saw it on the Internet.”

“And did demons not come after us? Only, it was man himself who designed the demons, and they did arrive, but now by the grace of a new god, we can be saved if we follow what is perfect and natural.”

“I need a road map to follow all this warped bullshit,” Matt added.

“Wow, Pope, you can spew with the best of ‘em,” Len said. “What is this meeting about besides bullshit?”

Lucas chuckled. “I see you don’t understand. Let me explain. We want the compound back for Brother Pope and our people. In exchange, some of you may help lead, and some of your people will be welcomed to remain. You will find our people reasonable, and Pascal is very charismatic. We have a new world order of strong, disciplined people. We can survive this.”

“We can, too,” Len said, “and you said some people? Meaning?”

“Well, you know that some are less than what we want in the new world.”

Pascal grinned. Even for a five-year-old, he was sly-looking. He watched a fly buzz about the room, reached out, and grabbed it. Popping it into his mouth, he smiled at the men as he crunched down on the fly. Len didn’t flinch but licked his lips. “Yum. Next time, please share.”

Frank said, “No niggers, queers, no pussies, and no sissies. Mexicans and Jews are worthless and should be eliminated, no hybrids, no old geezers; children are generally a waste, no retarded people, no one who is maimed, deformed, or crippled, no freaks, Goths, computer geeks, or stupid people. Women in their places: cooking, cleaning, lying on their backs, natural, true order.”

Len just digested that for several long seconds. Some of his best warriors fit in those categories and were good people. “I don’t think we can go with that. We seem to be fond of our losers we have,” he said sarcastically. “And…ummm…you say Pascal here is your new god, but he isn’t…ummm perfect? Have ya noticed that he is a little deformed?” He enjoyed taking a stab at the mean-looking child.

“No shit,” Kim added, “seems hypocritical to me.”

“He is perfection,” Lucas said in a low voice, his eyes like daggers.

“Sure, little fly-eating gods are all the rage,” Matt laughed.

“It must come to pass,” Pope said.

“Still preaching, huh? Pervert.” Kim sneered at Norman Pope.

“I have good news to share now. God has forgotten us, and we have forgotten Him, and we have Pascal. Everything is right with the world,” Pope announced.

“Crazy fucker,” Len said. “And behold, there shall be an antichrist who rises…riiight; we have Pascal:  literally Lord of the Flies.”

Only Frank and Lucas laughed.

Charts and pictures on the walls flew in a whirlwind, the little pins popping out everywhere as the papers scattered. Len, Kim, Matt, and Nick ducked as the papers and pins flew by them. Pascal glared at the men, moving his hands as if he were directing an orchestra, letting them know he had somehow sent the papers flying. He glared and hissed.

“Cool party trick,” Len snapped. “I’ve seen street magicians do better. You aren’t scary at all. Shove those papers and pins up your ass, and I could be amused.”

Pascal glared. “I can do things that would give you nightmares.”

“Hey, kid, we had nightmares about you; you’re almost as scary in person. But nah, trust me; I’ve seen better tricks and much better magic,” Len said.

“Zane. My half brother.”

“Yeh. The one who got the looks, brains, and talent,” Matt snapped.

“He’s a child. Have some respect,” Lucas roared.

They only looked at him with bored faces, hiding their inner fears. These people were insane, but they were in charge, and the kid did have some scary abilities.

Colonel Davis jumped in to save the conversation. “They came here, and I must admit they won the battle. Those of us who were left stayed on and were allowed to help; they had more fighting. We were over confident, but that’s the past now, and here we are.

Lucas has demanded that Dr. Diamond stop protocol, stop trying to find ways around the virus and prion infection, and find a way to cure it, and stop it totally. Dr. Diamond is working on a cure and has test subjects, but the cure is proving difficult, and he has made no progress.”

Len took that to mean the soldiers had their ass kicked by Frank and his Reconstruction Army and were lucky to be alive.

“I don’t think he tries hard enough,” Lucas said.

“Frank, he wants a cure, and removing his toes doesn’t help.”

“Toes?” Kim asked. He didn’t even bother to ask what test subjects were being used.

Lucas shrugged, “Snip, scream, back to work. It’s incentive. If he finds a cure soon enough, maybe he won’t lose them all; he still has eight; he can walk, but regardless, he doesn’t need toes to conduct his work. He won’t need balls, either.”

Colonel Davis winced. “So we have this….” He spread his arms. He was trying to make the other men understand he had been beaten and that they were all in trouble.

“And all the disgusting hybrids have been executed and burned. Dr. Diamond, misguided as he is, called them his Angels, but alas, Angels can burn as well as the next man. The Colonel was kind enough to identify all of them for us.”

“I preferred to keep my balls,” David said. “And I suppose it was right to get rid of carriers, so I told him about each and everyone. All of them, every single one.”

Len nodded. His mind whirled. First, he thought Frank was a hybrid, and probably many more were as well. He didn’t know if the Colonel knew that they knew Diamond’s secret, but he knew they knew that John Ponce was a hybrid and that Juan and his team held Ponce and three other men captive right then. Two hybrids, at least, were alive, and none of these men knew it. “Glad you got them all,” he said, hoping the Colonel understood.

“We want the compound. And we want the child.”

“What child?” Matt played dumb.

“Zane, the fair child whom the wolves bow down to and who dances with light. We want him,” Lucas said in his old-fashioned way of speaking, his voice melodic. “ No place for him is available in this world of power and perfection, and his life is a blight on my son’s life.

When I took the woman, Leandra, and put my seed in her womb, it was for a new world. It was only supposed to be Pascal, son of the dragon and master of scorpions and corpses. It was only supposed to be he who would sow the earth anew with screams and purity.”

Len shook his head. “That sounds like a bunch of gobbled-bullshit-fantasy- Star Wars-Luke-I-am-your-father-crap.”

Frank vaulted over the table to attack Len, and Len went at him, furiously. Punches flew before other men could drag them back to their seats. Len was glad to see Lucas now sported a busted lip.

Lucas clucked his tongue. “You have no faith in poetry and life. You’ve been around the little cocksucker Zane who is a master of light and fecundity. It’s over. We want the compound. Trust me:  Zane won’t be killed; we want him alive.”

“I want to be invisible sometimes and spy on people, but guess what, it ain’t happening.”

“How will your people fare when you, their leaders, are dead?
“Just fine.”

“I’m not a leader anyway. I’m the enforcer,” Matt grinned hatefully.

Tiredly, Nick took off his cap and glasses but didn’t look at his brother. “I used to have a brother who was a leader, but I’m nobody. I won’t be missed at all.”

Nick was pleased when his brother, going pale, excused himself suddenly to go check on something. Shock was good.

“They have four of our men unless they come back as hostages,” Davis said. “We can let them go and get our men back.”

“I don’t think so. We have the great and glorious Len Bernhart; we have the cream of the crop, and losing him will put a dent in their cockiness,” Frank said. “And the notorious scalper, Kimball Decker. The other two…fodder, but we have some good leverage.”

Davis gave Len a look of defeat.

“I want one of you to run an errand for me. You will go to those holding our men and ask for their return. I don’t care one way or the other, mind you, but I want the child, Zane, brought to me. Do as I ask, and your compound and the people will not be touched by us, by my word; I swear by my son for ten years….”

“Ten? Huh?” Len asked.

“Ten, your reprieve if you bring me the child. Then, you will have time to move away before we take the compound in ten years when Pascal is mature enough to lead his battle.

If you do not return with the child, we will attack and kill everyone except the white women whom we will use as breeding stock. It’s your choice,” Lucas explained.

“I see. Wow. Just wow…what an ultimatum,” Len said. He acted as if it were meaningless, but this chilled him to the bone, knowing this man meant it.

“Who will go?” Lucas demanded.

It was a hard choice. What would he be sentencing the rest to? But he knew whom to choose: he and George spoke often. “Matt.”

“Hey, why me?”

Kim gulped but steadied his voice. He had a vote, and he could say anyone at all. “Matt.”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Matt.”

Frank stood. “Good, we’ve decided.”

“Okay, so I give everyone your terms; then, what about Nick, Kim, and Len?” Matt asked.

“I’ll let them go back for ten years, and when those years are up and we come knocking, I hope Kim and Len are right at the gate waiting on us. I’m a’plannin’ on scalping like you’ve never seen,” Frank said, “slice and dice.”

“If you bring me the child, one silly child for your entire compound, all the people are safe, and your three friends will be returned, unharmed,” Lucas added.

“What if they refuse?” Matt was worried. They would never hand over a child to these crazies, so this was a ridiculous request that would never be honored, but he wanted to know what would happen.

“Then we do as I said. And your friends here, I have a plan for them, special like: If your God could stand to watch, then, surely you’ll appreciate the irony; we’ll crucify them and burn’ em.”

Matt felt sick.

Davis looked hard at Matt. “Hey, you bring me my men, too. I need John Ponce back in service here; Ponce can do wonders.”

Len cocked his head only a bit but then gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod to Matt. Kim raised an eyebrow. Both men hoped Matt understood.

They escorted all four from the room, cuffing the other three.

“You have until midnight,” Frank added.” Oh, here is the ex President of the US; you may recognize him.”

“I thought I knew him from somewhere,” Len said, not daring to glance at Nick. He had hoped this might be the edge they needed if Alan still cared about his brother.

The President nodded back at the men, and he gripped Nick’s arms to shove him along. “Whatever it takes,” he whispered quietly, giving Nick’s arm a squeeze. Len and Kim were also pushed along and put into a room.

Matt was taken all the way to the gate.

“Your guns, Sir,” a soldier said, handing him back his possessions. “You may take that vehicle: the Jeep Wrangler. We don’t need it; it will run just fine, full tank on her.”

“Okay.” Matt was trying to be creative with a plan to have an idea of what to do, but he was still in shock about what happened. They went into a situation, and it was nothing like they anticipated. He felt bad about being free when his friends were captives.

Roy, with his Hank Williams, Junior, glasses, watched as Matt got into the Jeep. “I knew Len and Kim way back when this started.”

“Yeh? Well, guess you picked the other side.”

“Guess I did. For what it’s worth; I hope things go the right way.”

“Yep, me, too. I’m hoping God sends down a bolt of lightning and fries everyone in your group,” Matt replied, sounding a lot like Len again.

Just before Matt closed the door, he heard Roy say something, and he thought he must have misunderstood because it sounded like Roy said, “Me, too, son. Me, too.”

4

Hopetown

Matt drove back, his nerves on edge, watching for spies and for people following him. With particular enjoyment, he ran over a crawling Z as its head crunched beneath the tires of the Jeep. Taking some side roads, he meandered in case he were being followed and then drove to where the rest of his friends waited for him. He had them bring the captives with them and said he wanted to tell the story once with everyone there to hear it.

He was still shaking.

It wasn’t easy to keep Johnny from trying to free the others, but she realized she would be captured as well. He told them that he saw the most diabolical men ever, and Johnny was shocked at the men who had gathered.

Once at the compound, the men were put into an isolation area right inside the gate, a place they could be guarded closely. None of them seemed overly concerned about their fate as John Ponce promised they would be treated fairly: not slaughtered nor tortured.

Beth stood with Julia and George, watching.

Once they were checked and came through, Beth hugged Juan. “I wish we had better news and that Len, Kim, and Nick had come back, too,” he told her.

“What’s happening?”

“Matt wanted to tell the story once, back here. We don’t know much except they are being kept and want some type of deal with us.”

“The Colonel did that?” she asked.

“Matt said the RA and those Nazis, Frank, Roy, Nick’s brother….”

“The President of the United States is with Nazi rebels? What?” Beth couldn’t imagine that. Nick felt as if he were going insane after he saw his brother with them.

“The one-eyed bastard kid, too.” Juan said. “It’s about all we know.”

As John Ponce walked to isolation, he saw Beth, paused behind the fence, and gave her a small wave. She stepped closer. She hated hybrids with a passion; she wished he weren’t one. “Hi, Ponce.”

“Hello, Beth. How are you?”

“Well. Considering.”

“I heard. It sounds as if she and the kid were crazy. Raw beef is fine for the cravings.”

“Well, contagious people, the same as a Z,” she said.

“Most were killed at camp. Frank and Lucas ordered it. For some reason, they didn’t know about the doctor or me. But then, I think some of them are hybrids, and they don’t care because it’s them.”

“Hey, don’t bite anyone here, ‘kay?” she almost smiled at him.

“You got it.”

She couldn’t explain to the rest or herself why, if she hated the hybrids so much, she didn’t hate quiet, kind John Ponce. He told her that the President was, indeed, on the other side and came in with the RA after they took him in. Ponce thought that he wasn’t so much with them, especially in mindset, but more afraid of them. Beth told him that sounded more plausible but that she still thought it was cowardly to go along and not fight back.

“Except that like the Colonel, we didn’t have much choice. They would have killed us all. We didn’t imagine their strength which was a mistake, and now they have control, simple as that,” Ponce said. “We found Pascal’s arsenal of abilities exceeded our guns. Without him, they are nothing.”

They all left isolation and trudged back to the meeting hall to listen to Matt. From the look on his face and since he wasn’t given to dramatics, the news wasn’t going to be good, they knew.

Very carefully, he related each thing that was said as best he could: in the same words, not leaving out a single detail. Several times people interrupted, not sure they understood. Matt sighed, “I know it seems insane, but that’s what they said.”

“So all of those people like me: half Mexican, they’d just execute me? Juan asked.

“And Kevin and me,” Alex added.

Julia nodded, “Me, too, and George for his age. The kids: blam, blam, blam. Why are they like that?”

“They’d be killin’ me, too,” Big Bill said, eyes hurting. “’Cause of my skin color? I wouldn’t do that to a person; that’s just mean as a snake.”

“Andie, Natalie, Teeg, Pak, Jet, Cory, Pedro, Rae, Thurman, Benny, well those at the very least. If they ran things here, they would get rid of all of the children and then anyone less than perfect to them,” Johnny counted off,  “and we women would be breeders. Idiots.”

“We would have half of the people left at best; those would be people who work security and medical, too,” Julia said, “Pendejo.” The rest of what she said was passionately obscene and in Mexican, and said so quickly no one caught anything but a few stand out swear words.

“Wanting to kill me because I’m Goth? That’s crazy,” Jet said, feeling exasperated. “Why would anyone be so full of hate?”

“Because they are full. It isn’t that they really even think those things so much but that they have to have someone to hate, so they decide on anyone but themselves.”

“But we have ten years,” Matt explained the next part, after which Julia let loose a new stream of obscenities.

“So they are either coming now or in ten years to fight us? In ten years, we could be stronger, but so can they,” George said. “ I don’t like bowing down to their demands. They have no right to make demands.”

“You would have had to hear them. Lucas talks old timey and like a preacher sometimes, and Pope talks like, well, like he always did. It was like Len called it: a Star Wars-Luke-I-am-your-father bullshit, but it’s insane when you hear ‘em going at it, but Ponce says they came to them, using the President as if he were an invoice?”

“Envoy,” Julia helped.

“Okay. They made him act as if he were trying to settle everything and make things right, but it was fake. He didn’t want to be there with those nuts; he was scared.

Then, I guess no one will believe this, but Ponce says it’s true. They were in a standoff, and here came what they think were zombies, right? They were used to killing them, but the RA didn’t even flinch.  Every thing was quiet. Those things were never quiet; they moaned and hissed, and they walked right past the RA, and the men stood there grinning like crazy,” Matt told them.

“Huh?”

“Ponce said only the President was scared and shaking. Those things were zombies; only, they were dead ones. I mean they were long-dead as in dead-shot- in-the-head-already-typed dead, and they were shambling but kind of dancing.”

“Dancing?” Beth asked.

“Ponce called it a kind of dance…like a puppet…silly dancing, and Pascal was there and giggling.  If you had met the kid…I know we had nightmares about him before, but he was creepy-scary, worse than a clown, and he giggled more which made me piss my pants; then, he stopped, and zombies fell to the ground.  He  ‘puppeteered’ zombies, dead ones. That’s why they got in to do what they wanted. They scared the shit out of the people in Davis’s army.”

Matt finished the report, getting the last parts of all conversations especially correct, skipping only one part since he dreaded saying it.

George rubbed his eyes. He never envisioned these problems when zombies ruled the earth; why did insane men have to make things even worse? What made men so determined to sow evil thoughts and deeds? He knew everyone, like him, recalled the nightmares of Pascal that they suffered when all this began.

“I find what Colonel Davis said interesting; it sounds as if he didn’t have time for a lot of talk, and so what he did say has to be examined. Matt, when he said he wanted Ponce back ‘in service’ and that Ponce could ‘do wonders’, what did he mean really?” Beth asked.

“I think you’re thinking the same as I am: the word service and the word wonders stood out to me. I feel the Colonel was giving me a message.”

“He was telling us something,” George said.

“I agree, George,” Julia said.

“ Only one way to understand that message if he asked for Ponce specifically,” Juan said, horrified. “He expects us to hand Ponce back to let loose the infection there.”

“If you recall, that is what sent us into turmoil; we could have been infected and killed that night. One hybrid can cause a lot of infection very quickly,” Julia mused. “He must think that’s the only way to get the guys and themselves out of this mess.”

“I think we can vote, but the bottom line is that we send Ponce and the other three guys back since they may have a mission to do damage from within. We say ‘no’ that they can’t have Zane or our compound, and we prepare to fight,” George said. “I am not about to ask Ponce to do that; if we do, that’s makes us just as bad as they are. And face it, Davis doesn’t have good ideas when it comes to fighting the RA, or he wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“We’ll have a general meeting.   If anyone wants to get out, he can go to a safe place, help those people, and not face this. The rest will fight. That means all of you, too.”

“I’d rather face them from here than run from zombies out there.”

“What about Len, Kim, and Nick?” Juan asked. “If we decide to fight, how do we get them back?”

“If we refuse to give Zane to them, I was told….” Matt faltered. Everyone waited, “they’ll be crucified.”

Beth clenched Julia’s hand tight.

“Unacceptable. We’re going to get them all out; we’re smarter than they are,” Julia said, rubbing Beth’s arm as she felt the tension coming off of her friend. Beth was past fury and just sat as if she were sad and defeated.

“I want everyone together.” George stood.

They called a full compound meeting.

“Why are the kids here? We said adults….”

“Uncle George, we have to learn how things are decided and the ways things are worked out; one day we will be leading,” Hannah told him. “It’s bad for us, but it’s our reality and our future. Please. It’s just the older kids, anyway.”

George looked to Beth and Mark.

“I hate it with a passion, but she’s right,” Beth said.

George conducted the meeting, explaining what they were told, amid cries that the group was insane and questions about what they would do. These people went through so much, and the infection inside the compound was horrid since they thought they were finally safe. This was almost too much to hear, that such people wanted a war.

“Bring ‘em on,” a man yelled, “we’ll fight them on our terms.”

“They aren’t getting the garden I worked my ass off for,” a woman said as people cheered her on.

“We can do this,” Julia said, “I know we can decide on a counter measure: some traps, we can win this with brains. I want everyone busy; we’ll put the children and anyone else who isn’t used to firing guns down stairs. But I still want everyone trained to fire a gun in case he needs to.”

“They will not want to mow the fence down; they will want it in tact in case the Zs come, so I think they’ll scale it. They will try to get into the tunnels to the basements. Pope will be drawing them a map, so we have to make sure we hold those,” Beth said.

“I can guarantee I can shoot from the windows of the main house before they get close enough to scale that fence,” Carl said. People cheered.

“We’ll hold the tunnels, the house, and the gate,” Julia said. “We can do that.”

“Julia?” Hannah interrupted.

“Yes, Hon?”

“Zane says he has a right to speak since they’re asking for him.”

Julia held her arms out to the boy. “Come here, Sweetie.” She wondered what the child might want to say.

Zane looked at Mark and Misty whom he had been living with since Maryanne was killed. They smiled, showing they believed in him.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said in a soft voice. Everyone was still and quiet. “I think Pascal wants me to go away so he can be in charge. I think we both can be in the world…like….” He didn’t know how to explain but held his hand out flat and tilted it both ways.

“Balance? Yin and yang?” Beth offered.

“Balance. Yes. But he doesn’t think so, I guess. Those people killed my Mommy and Daddy. I got them back for it; I didn’t mean to, but I did. I think we both have to be here, not one without the other.”

“It was fine, Hon. You were upset and angry, and you did what you had to do to some very evil people,” Julia told him.

“I can’t use a gun, and I’m not very big, but I think…maybe…I think I can make those bad people go away.”

“Zane, there’s a bunch of them with big guns, and they are very bad; we can’t risk your being hurt.”

Zane laughed musically. “Maryanne always laughed when I did my tricks; she enjoyed them, but she always said never to show off.  I don’t.”

“We know,” Beth said.

Zane shook his head. “You don’t.”  With a frown and concentration on his little face, he reached up, sweat lining his forehead. Lights in the room went dim, making it seem as if the sun went behind a cloud; everyone looked around, spooked at the change. Tiny dots of light appeared about the room like fireflies, twinkling and dancing in the air. Zane was delighted, laughing and smiling, but everyone else was alarmed as the lights swept all around. Several ducked as the lights flew by their heads.

Julia ducked down, barely missed by the little spots, but as she turned, two swept right into her face, and she couldn’t move fast enough. “Oh, my God. Dios Madre.” She slumped into a chair. Her hands both up in wonder as she allowed the tiny white lights to dance about her fingers. Tears streamed down her face.

“Jules?” Beth went to grab her friend, but Julia smiled, waving her back.

“Manny,” Maria called out. He died recently of an accident and was her beloved brother.

Jilly Montaine, daughter of legendary screen actress Cinder Montaine, went to her knees in happy tears. “Oh, Mama, you’re happy and beautiful.”

George sat down as well, his face full of wonder as he held a hand up to a dancing light. “Tink. You were such a hero. I know you did everything for love of Beth and all of us.”

“What in the hell?” Juan asked, reaching for Beth to hold her protectively. “Zane, are you doing something?”

Zane smiled. “Bye, Mommy.” And the lights faded.

“I felt as if my daughter were here,” a man called out, “I could feel her with us; she was peaceful.”

“I felt Tink.” George smiled, “he thought it was all worth his dying to save others.”

“I felt him, too, George,” Thurman said, and Benny echoed it.

“My mother,” “My husband,” “My family,” echoed from the room.

“My parents: they are at peace,” Julia said, her eyes full of shock. “Zane, how did you do that? That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged. “They are at peace, and they will always be around, proud of us; you just can’t ever see them. I did it so you could see and believe.”

“Thank you. It is a gift, Zane,” Maria said. “That’s why the pendejo de meirda wants Zane so badly. He is the balance of what Pascal is.”

Juan still held Beth close. “What does this mean though? Zane, you proved you are valuable which we already knew; everyone adores you anyway, but what is it you want from this?”

“Aren’t you going to get Len, Kim, and Nick back? I want to help. I can cause a little mischief.” Zane grinned like a naughty child. “I don’t have enough energy or whatever it is to take out Pascal, but then he can’t beat me up either, see?”

“I bet you can cause mischief, Little Man.” Mark smiled, “he can fight fire with fire, so to speak.”

“Kids can help,” Hannah said proudly.

It was something to think about. They tossed ideas back and forth and made plans, and George found that even the meekest of the ladies had some shocking ideas for traps in battle. It was clear that these people would fight for themselves and their homes. Groups formed fast to suggest ideas for an upcoming fight.

“Beth, I want you to be calm and help everyone get ready; you can shoot well.” Beth looked at Juan in confusion, and Julia cocked her head, as Juan said,  “I’m going to get Len, Kim, and Nick back. Zane can go part way to see if he can cause any mischief, but I think some stealth and grenades might cause enough trouble to allow me to get them out.”

“No, Juan….”

He kissed her but ignored her protests. “I’d like Matt to go since he was there. Just us. Gabe can go half way with Zane or to where he knows he has to be for his mischief. I want Pak, Carl, Teeg, and John: my team.”

Julia took a deep breath and nodded.

Beth refused to look at Juan for fear she would start crying. Two men she loved would be out there.

“About time, let’s go raise some hell,” Carl said.

Teeg smiled, “This will work; we’ll get them back.”

All of them got into a huddle for planning while everyone else rushed about adjusting things and making a game plan. It was possible that the three captives would be crucified as well as Juan and Matt being killed.

Zane was just a child who could do simple tricks that were pretty and amazing, but he was not battle-worthy, so the people of the compound would most assuredly face an entire army at their door within hours.

In a few hours, the team was ready to move out in three vehicles. Beth didn’t miss that Julia gave Matt a kiss or that her own heart ached with Juan’s going out. Beth watched them get ready to take the men from isolation. She heard a voice from the visitor’s part of isolation.

“They are about to come get you. I don’t know if they’ll tell you what your part in this is, but I will,” the speaker was Hannah. “Colonel Davis asked for you in particular to ‘do your service’ and ‘do wonders’. Matt and all of the rest think that was a hint of what Davis wants.”

“And what is that, Little Miss Hannah?” Ponce asked, amusement in his voice. “It sounds as if either way, we may all be dead: both sides of us. What do the Colonel and you wish me to do? And why are you the one asking?”

“I’m angry enough to ask. No one else is terrible enough to wish it on even those bad men, but I am, and I’ll even ask you. I want Uncle Len back and Kim and Nick. I can’t stand to see my mother so worried and sad.”

“Oh.”

“When you get back, I suggest you create a nice diversion so the rest can get our friends out and shut down that army. You might get out alive, too, if you take my advice.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I suggest you bite. A lot. Got it?” Hannah asked.

“Ahhh, I think I’m following.”

“I hope you can do this, Mr. Ponce.”

Hannah opened the door and smiled as they came to load the men into the vehicle to return them to the camp with the message: they wouldn’t hand over Zane but would fight. Most glanced at her with surprise, but she just smiled sweetly.

She waved at the men. Ponce waved back.

They watched them pull out of the gate.

Andie, bandage on her throat, caught Beth’s sleeve. Her voice was rough. “I heard what Hannah said to Ponce. You heard her, too. She wants him to infect the people of that camp.”

Beth nodded. “I think several were thinking the same. No one would ask him. You heard George. It makes us as bad as they are.”

“We can’t be a part of that. You above all can’t be part of it.”

“It was a message. The Colonel sent it, and Len and Kim gave Matt a sign. I can’t change that part. Matt just reported it. Hannah just reported it. Don’t beat on the messenger.”

“I’m not, Beth. I am upset over Hannah’s asking them to do that.”

“She has the right to give her opinion. George is better than I am. I just want those three back safely. To get them back, yes, I say ‘infect them all,’ anything to get our people back. Hannah is the only one of us who would say those words, but we were all thinking them.”

“It’s sickening for Beth and Hannah to do that? I tried to tell you:  I think she killed Carol, and it wasn’t a Z who got that poor woman.  I think she didn’t mind a bit hacking her family to death.”

“Adopted family that mistreated her,” Beth said. “You are a little dramatic here.”

“This whole thing is dramatic.”

“It’s okay, Andie.”

“Whatever, I am warning you: that child, Hannah, is a little monster.”

Beth smiled lightly. “Ahhh, but Andie, she’s my little monster.

5

Confrontations

“I thought you died; the cabin burned,” Alan whispered to his brother as he handed them something to eat: water, bread, and beans on a plate, and for each, a package of old sweet rolls. “I mourned your death.”

“Everyone came down with Red but me. What are you doing with these idiots? You are the President of the United States, Alan,” Nick said.

Alan shrugged. “Now, I’m just a person, I guess. I knew the bombs were a stupid, last ditch effort, but everyone was in a panic.  We went to the bunkers; we were told that everyone who was going to get Red already had it.”

Alan shivered.  This one guy, some mechanic from the army, had gotten into a fistfight with another man down in the bunker. They went at it hard and heavy, rolling around.  No one was inclined to step in to break it up; the mechanic got the worst of the deal and chomped down on the other guy’s hand. When actions went to eye, gouging and biting, the fight was broken up, as it was no longer as interesting.

“He bit? Let me guess….”

“Yep, Dr. Diamond was already at work, and the bastard was a hybrid, one of the first test subjects, I guess.

The other guy, we didn’t know he was infected: it was a bite; then, he showed the infection; then, the tell-tale reek came. The bandages were soaked through with yellowish pus, and bruises started showing up on the man’s arm, shoulder, and chest as he ran a high fever and vomited. Within a few hours, he was turned, but it was at a time when no one was watching or knew, and he infected several men, who turned on their families and friends. About two dozen people escaped with the President.

“What did you do?” Nick asked.

“I set off the bombs as I was told to in order to stop the spread, and then I locked all of them in the bunker where they belonged.

At the second bunker, I did the same: took Diamond with me that time and told him to find his own people, which he did. I don’t remember all of the parts; I tried to find all of you; I was alone for a long time, and other times, I was in a group.

It seemed every day we added a few to the group, and then we would lose more to attacks or from people going off alone than we added. Some people, we never saw again; soon, only a few of us were left, and we ran into the RA.”

The Reconstruction Army used a Nazi format as they designed uniforms and trained, then gathered women to be breeders, and collected men to be their slave labor. They took their passion further by not allowing alcohol or drugs, yet had gambling nights: they made bets on which prisoner could run the fastest through a bonfire or who could survive the longest before changing; they executed scores of people whom they didn’t feel met their ideals.

“I kept thinking there was a way to escape from them, but Colonel Davis let me down,” Alan said. “I felt lost when I saw Diamond was with him. Hell, both sides deserved each other.”

“You should have left Diamond locked in the bunker, too,” Len said, “then, we’d have had fewer problems.”

“I know that now. At the time, I thought he might have the cure.”

“No, he’s the cause.”

“It’s cowardly to save your own hide by even pretending to go along with these nuts of the RA,” Nick told him. “I’m disappointed in you, Alan.”

“ I did the wrong things. I’ll figure out how to get us out of here,” he said.

“Sorry if we don’t depend on that,” Len muttered, “I hope we have a Plan B.”

Frank’s men came in.

Len, Kim, and Nick were pushed out of the room. “Did you just cop a feel?” Len asked the one pushing at him with more force than what was needed.

The man sneered, “I can’t wait to see you die, smart ass.”

They went through the airport and outside. Colonel Davis stood, watching with a beaten look on his face.

“The Colonel’s men came back and told us that your people don’t want to trade the kid for your lives,” Frank spat.

“I could have told you that much.” Len shrugged, “true patriots don’t make deal with terrorists.” He also meant Davis should have fought back. Davis understood and gave him a little nod.

“Get on with it. I want to be in their compound by morning,” Lucas demanded. The sun had set, but torches had the area well lit. Men came out to sit in chairs, and a make shift table was to one side where the men placed bets.

Len, Nick, and Kim were the night’s entertainment.

“Len, you’re the favorite for not screaming when you go on the cross.  They think that one will scream,” Frank pointed to Nick. “But, on the other hand, they think he may last the longest since he’s thinner. I have money on you, Kim; don’t ruin my bet, ‘kay? Try to hang on a while.”

“I’ll do my best.” Kim shrugged. He could see that above all else, they had not fed into Frank’s taunts, and that aggravated the man deeply. He led through intimidation.

Kim swung on Frank, pivoting to get his weight behind the punch, but all three of the captives, despite fighting back, were beaten to the ground and tied by several men.

Frank spat out a tooth in bloody saliva. “Bastard,” he said as he sneered at Kim.

“Gotta admit that felt good,” Kim said.

Kim wondered if he would scream when the nails went through his hands as he lay with arms stretched out on the beams of the cross.  He knew his friends were wondering the same thing, dreading the pain. He thought about Beth and how he loved her, trying to imagine the baby.

If this army attacked, would his friends stand a chance? Would Beth and his baby be killed or taken hostage and tortured? That was what haunted him, not his own death. He could only die, maybe slowly, but it was a way out. He didn’t want the baby to suffer with Beth at the hands of these men.

Three men knelt.

Kim fought to keep his hand closed, but it was pried open, and a spike was set into his palm. He didn’t scream, but he groaned, his breath churning out as he heard the thunder of blood and his own heart beat in his ears. He couldn’t scream because the pain took his breath away. Liquid agony exploded in his hand while lightning-like pain erupted into his shoulder as the nerves convulsed.

Nick yelped, causing some men to cheer and others to groan as bets were won and lost. As his second hand was spiked, a man beside him kicked him in his ribs for costing him a bet.

“Stop kicking him; we don’t want him dead, yet.”

Nick knew his ribs were cracked, just more white-hot pain.

“Mine is up.” The men with Nick cheered as they got him up first, tilting the cross up, raising it, and putting the end in a deep slot into the ground. Nick felt his vision waver as his ribs ground together and his hands felt the tug of the metal.  He looked at the men who watched him on the cross, wondering faintly how they could enjoy the misery of others. His mind spun, and he passed out for a few seconds.

As bad as his hands hurt, his chest gave him the most trouble. They added a small platform for all of them to stand on which gave him only the tiniest amount of support to keep his hand from tearing through the spikes.

However, they had to raise themselves up on the tiny beam to get a full breath. Soon, it would be so that their legs and feet would cramp, keeping them from getting a breath. The torture was devised to assure that they didn’t die quickly but had to work at breathing while impaled in their hands, causing a long, painful death. He would suffocate over days or die of shock.

Kim felt his eyes tear up as the second spike went through into his palm and down the carpel tunnel. He recalled his rage and fury, just to stand the pain, but he still cried out.

“You wanna get that kid for me?” Frank asked Kim. “I’ll take the spikes out. You can end this.”

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he said. His head was spinning with pain, and he intended to say that he accepted the deal, would, in fact, do anything to escape the agony, but the words didn’t come out. If Frank offered to kill him, though, he would try to take that deal if his words didn’t defy him.

He wanted the pain to stop more than he ever wanted anything.

Yelling and a clamor could be heard out of Kim’s range of vision; Nick could see what was going on, and he spared some of his breath to laugh aloud. He laughed and howled with joy, cheering, and acting insane, but his wide grin was unmistakable; something made Nick happy, but Kim was pretty sure it wasn’t a rescue party.

It wasn’t the sounds of men entertaining and placing bets that echoed. The tough RA men ran around in a panic, calling out in fear, and only one action could cause that type of blind panic and disorder, despite having been given orders to maintain discipline.

“Hot damn, I never thought I would be glad to know those bastards were around,” Len called out. He cheered for the zombies. “Come on in; dinner is served.”

Moans of hunger were everywhere on the tarmac.

“Bring ‘em on,” Len yelled.

Frank leveled his gun at Len’s head and saw only a challenge in Len’s eyes, a mocking, happy challenge. Len didn’t care what Frank did to him.  He wanted to get out alive, but seeing Frank realize his plans were falling apart was priceless and the real prize. Frank was no great leader. He knew it; they all knew it.

John Ponce must have returned and started the plague in the fortress; the Reconstruction Army was defeated by too much ambition from inside and their own stupidity.

“Don’t kill him yet; we want them crucified,” Lucas snapped. “They can rip the rest apart for all we care.” He turned and went over to Pascal. “Son, can you handle this?” He paused a second, having to aim and fire several times to take out a man who gushed blood from his mangled throat and ran past them. “Pascal?”

Whoever planned this should be punished.  But the planner, Pascal, glaring with his one good eye, was just a child: unaware of what his magic might do and unused to military strategy, agitated and inconsiderate; he was a child who was seeing plans ruined, and entertainment, albeit revenge, ended, and he was full of anger. Instead of taking control, he did as a child would do; he threw a temper tantrum.

Thunder exploded overhead. Pascal kicked at a man on the ground, focusing on him so that the man’s brain boiled and blood rushed out his body.

Lucas couldn’t get the boy focused. “Pascal?” It worried Lucas because he wasn’t sure the child could regain his focus or that he had the power to stop the zombies on the tarmac.

“How did they get in?” Norman Pope demanded as he came running, eyes full of fear as he moved closer to Lucas and Frank. “What happened? Do something.”

Colonel Davis grinned for the first time. “Secret weapon, you son of a bitch.” He swung up his sidearm and enjoyed the sight of the false prophet’s head explode from the back of his skull into a mess of brains and blood as a hole went into his forehead. Pope looked astonished at that very second. “It’s all over.”  He knew his own men were suffering, but it was time for this reign of terror to end. Pope was the first who needed to die.

Frank fired at the man, but even as the bullet hit the Colonel, Pascal turned on him, and the Colonel was thrown backwards as if he were slapped away. They needed the Colonel, but he was gut-shot; his father had explained.  Pascal’s counter measure was too late, and he roared with anger. He might just burn Frank alive for this. As Pascal turned to Frank, he saw the man was already moving again.

Frank, advancing on the Colonel to get another shot and cursing under his breath that the child was out of control and ruined the killing shot, went after the Colonel, thinking was foolish ever to  side with the traitor. Frank wanted to kill.

The fence went down at the side as a Humvee plowed through, sending metal and dirt everywhere. Men of the RA couldn’t decide whether to fire on it or at the zombies that shambled in the torchlight. Davis’s men shot at the other men and the zombies, wondering what to do.

Simultaneously, grenades went off, diverting attention, but Nick stared at Lucas and Pascal and ignored all the chaos around him. He was fascinated.

A dot of light, like an errant firecracker fell by their feet and began to circle them, leaving a thin, scorched shape that turned orange, glowing, then white, and then blue. It was beautiful. Nick was mesmerized and thoroughly entertained.

As a ring of fire surrounded their feet, an area roughly the size of a child’s plastic swimming pool, Nick began to sing, not even aware he was loud. “I fell into a burning ring of fire….” He sang to himself, watching, feeling the pain intensify as he raised himself for a breath. “Went down, down, down….”

Kim and Len didn’t know much about what happened except that they heard moans coming out onto the tarmac and saw men running fearfully.

Grenades exploded, and fires sprung alive, bathing them in light and heat, while shots rang out all over. They heard the engine but didn’t know the Humvee plowed through a fence. Kim could have sworn he heard Nick singing, but then it might be the pain making him hallucinate.

Pascal roared and screeched with fury.

“And it burns, burns, burns… the ring of fire….” Nick kept singing.

Len had only one hand nailed. Since the men were distracted, they failed to do a body search. So Len contorted his body to get something that was attached to his leg. Len muttered, “Many a slip betwixt cup and lip….”

Len felt satisfied at having fired at Frank with the small gun he took from his leg holster and at having watched the shots go into the man’s chest, which blossomed with blood. Frank randomly pulled the trigger of his own gun as he fell to the ground.

Another man darted over and leaned close to Len. Bending over, Alan held Len’s stomach. Blood slimed his hands as fire seemed to fill his middle section, but he nodded encouragement. “Good shot.”

“Thanks…Ummm, Sir.”

“Hell…I’m just plain Alan. Not a Sir anymore.”

“Gotcha.”

“This is gonna hurt, ” said Alan leaning down, using the hammer to pull the spike out of Len’s hand: blood pouring and flesh tearing and leaving pieces behind as he did. Len never dreamed the removal could hurt more than the nail did going in, and he screamed this time, throwing his head back and fighting the black dots filling his vision. Len stopped to tear off and then wrap part of his shirt around his hand as Alan began helping Kim, telling them Colonel Davis fought back and was killed.

All over, the rest of Davis’s army turned on the RA and began to methodically kill each of them, finally unafraid of the men. Pascal couldn’t help them, now.

As Kim got to his feet, shaking with the pain, a zombie lunged at them, and Kim could shake only injured fists at the ghoul. Len fought with another on the ground and wasn’t close enough to be able to help, so Kim waited to get a kick at the thing.

With pain burning his insides, Alan turned to the creature, slamming the hammer into its head as hard as he could. When the ghoul latched onto his arm with its filthy teeth, Alan tore loose, leaving his flesh behind to be swallowed and him yelling with pain.

Taking over and slamming the hammer down again into its head, Kim then kicked the ghoul back and shot it in the head.  It was a recently turned man with injuries everywhere which wept blood as he fell on the tarmac, dead again.

Alan smiled at Kim and gave him a nod. Alan wasn’t going to get out of this alive, but this was the kind of man he once was, and he felt proud of himself again.

“Alan….” Nick had seen and felt gut-kicked, knowing that his brother had been infected.

Nick saw that Pascal and Lucas were still surrounded by flames and had been inched to the other side so the zombies weren’t on them yet, but they weren’t close to the rest, either.  He wanted them to be eaten alive. If he could hang on a cross, his enemies could be cannibalized. It was fair.

On the tarmac were zombies and fleeing men, few doing more than trying to avoid being bitten by the massive horde.

Soon, Nick expected that a Z would be climbing on him: up his feet and on his legs: to feed and turn him. He would then moan and hiss for all time from a cross set into the ground. At least, it was original. He was kind of okay with that, he decided, hoping it would be faster than suffocating but scared it would be horribly painful.

He really hated seeing Alan infected. Nick sang louder about the ring of fire that burns, burns, burns.

Len, Kim, and Alan tipped the cross backwards, making Nick cry out as they quickly got him to the ground. Nick fell unconscious for a few seconds. Alan and Len went to work on the spikes, unfortunately, bringing Nick back to consciousness with the pain of removing the metal. Nick swore at them for not letting him die as he watched the ring of fire do its job in keeping Pascal and Lucas away from the rest.

Kim, using a gun he picked up, tried to shoot at a zombie who came too close, but his hands were too torn up to hold the gun: swollen and bleeding with hand bones broken, muscles torn, and fingers useless. Neither Nick nor Kim was in good enough shape to fight back.

Kim held his hands out, which looked like big, swollen, blood-caked claws that refused to bend or move or maintain a grip. To him, his hands became painful, useless mounds of flesh that did nothing but cause him grief. He stared at them.

“Come on, let’s get you back,” Juan said as he leaned into Kim’s face.  Kim realized he sat on the pavement and stared blankly. “Get up.”

“Huh?” Kim realized where he was, while Juan and Matt stood him up again. How had they appeared? Was he imagining things? Why was Juan there at all?

“Move that way; there’s Carl.” Juan pushed Kim forward toward Carl who was waving while Pak and John dropped zombies, using the scopes for better sight.  Juan groaned in frustration as Kim slid back to the ground. “What the hell?”

He realized that Kim was bleeding from a shot to his leg; in fact, he seemed to be bleeding out. Where Kim stood, the ground was soaked, and if he lived another minute, it would be a miracle.

Juan squatted a little and boosted Kim across his back in a fireman carry, trying to find the strength to run with the man across the pavement to behind where the Humvee sat. “Help, I need help; Kim is wounded; he’s not gonna make it.”

John took Kim’s place so that he and Len were able to yank Nick to his feet, but Nick was wavering, unable to stand without John’s hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. Nick muttered, “Alan, my brother….”

“He’s bitten, Nick, but he was already shot; someone got him. I think it was Frank’s gun; he’s gut shot,” Len said. “He saved us, Nicky; don’t let it be for nothing. Get moving.”

Len saw Pascal and Lucas, but the flames were dying down, and they would be on them within seconds. Before he could shoot, he heard his name called.

Time stood still for Len.

Three men stood before Len. One was a soldier who bled badly from a shot to his shoulder. The second man was John Ponce. The third was Dr. Henry Diamond, the man who might find a cure for the plague and who understood this infection better than anyone else, the same one who may have designed the infection, and the one who did release false protocols. Len glared at him.

Hesitating, Len looked back to where the rest were waiting for him, turned, and fired once.

Dr. Diamond had a second to lock eyes with Len before he fell to the ground. John Ponce didn’t raise his own sidearm but simply looked at Len expectantly, eyes mild and curious.

“He’s done enough damage for one lifetime,” Len said.

“I have, too,” Ponce said as he cocked his head.

Len made a motion for Ponce and the other soldier to get out of there, but Ponce looked a little confused:  Why was he being allowed to go; he was a hybrid that they hated.

“Ponce, debt paid,” Len said, as he turned his back and began walking to join his friends. With a sharp glance at Ponce, Matt took Len’s arm and rushed him along.

At the edge of the airport and near the woods, the rest of Len and Kim’s friends were helping quickly with first aid for the men. Nick stopped most of his bleeding, but he was staring blankly, his mind closing down rapidly. He had thick bandages on his hands and was wrapped in a blanket with his legs elevated. He sipped water.

Zane concentrated as hard as he could about causing ‘his mischief’.  He didn’t know immediately what he would do to help.  When he heard Carl singing about a ring of fire as they pulled up outside the airport close to the tarmac, he was tickled. Zane liked to hear Carl sing about the ring of fire.

He found out that years before some man dressed in all black, which he assumed was an outfit and not mud, had sung that.

As soon as Zane got to a place where he could see, he was able to do a simple trick of the ring of fire that again held Pascal and Lucas in place while the others were rescued. The trick didn’t use too much energy, and it was fun to see Pascal glare and throw his fit; he and his father couldn’t get past the fire.

Then he heard Nick sing the same song! It must be a popular song.

Zane was sad to see his friends injured, but he didn’t feel the fury he felt when his Mommy and Daddy were killed; he couldn’t pull enough energy to do anything more to the bad people.

Right now, he was concentrating on Kim, hoping he was sharing enough energy to help the man with his injured leg; otherwise, Kim was going to die. It was taking a lot out of Zane to concentrate on stopping the blood running and on mending Kim’s hands a little to give him some relief.

“I think I have the bleeding stopped,” Carl, amazed, said about Kim. “It just slowed and then stopped. His hands are bad, but they’re not as bad as I thought they’d be, good deal.” He cocked a look towards Zane and saw the child was frowning while he was concentrating.

“I took care of Dr. Diamond,” Len said simply.

“Good,” Juan said.

“Frank is gone, dead; did anyone see Roy?”

Matt huffed out a sigh, “I did. He’s…well…not one of us anymore. Karma is a bitch; I think he got what he was supposed to, and we didn’t do it; a Z got him; no doubt we’ll see him again, walking around.”

Juan clenched his jaw. “That’s some bad-ass karma.”

“I’m just sorry about Lucas and Pascal getting away with this.”

“I know, Matt. Unfair,” Len agreed. “They are getting away with this and will come back to hurt more people.”

Zane muffled a laugh. “I don’t think so.” He was through helping Kim and had a little energy left, using it to call for some help. He couldn’t do this alone; he was way too little.

“Holy shit.” Carl threw himself back as a shape darted close to them but kept going without noticing them. “That’s the biggest wolf….”

A white wolf jumped a fallen tree and shimmered by in the moonlight, alongside three more enormous wolves.  Four more poured from the trees to run by them. Len stared back at the tarmac, thinking he was having some serious hallucinations as he thought he saw a woman looking back at them. She was aglow, wispy in the light as if she were mist; no woman would be calmly standing amid zombies with Pascal and Lucas right there.

Len blinked but still saw her. Matt and the rest were also staring at Len’s hallucination. From the other sides, wolves bolted forward to rip into zombies and men alike, hunting down each as he tried to hide. They went inside the building where screams pealed.

“There are captive women, ” Kim said, half conscious.

Zane laid his hand on the man’s arm. “It’s not me.”

Len looked at Zane and shivered.

A huge wolf braved the last of the flames and avoided looking at Pascal but snapped at Lucas. The man angrily kicked at the wolf but paused as he heard a growl behind him. “Get to safety, Pascal. Can you make them go away? Call the dragon.”

“I can’t,” the boy whined. “I can’t; I don’t know how yet; I can’t feel it.”

Lucas knew it was too soon; the child wasn’t old enough to harness that large amount of power. Before Lucas could think about the problem any more and could offer to help his son, the wolf behind him sprang.  Lucas turned just enough so that the jaws closed on his throat.

Pascal screamed and tried to do something but just held his hands out before him to keep the animals off of him. He cried for his father, but the big wolf gnawed as blood poured from Lucas’s throat. The other wolf jumped forward to rip at the man’s belly.

The area lit up, and thunder cracked, but Pascal panicked too much to be focused. A wolf’s fur was singed, smelling vile, but the animal just growled, and Pascal tried something else. Lightning shot harmlessly across the sky.

Len shook his head since he didn’t quite understand what that meant, only knowing that the wolves were tearing everyone apart. The white wolf lunged at Pascal, dancing about the child. Len thought it was about to rip him apart but felt no pity. Seeing the woman turn her back to them, Len shivered, imagining she had long blonde hair and shiny, loving blue eyes.

Just like Zane.

“Are you finished, Buddy?” Len asked Zane.

“I have finished. Mommy can finish the rest. She loves me.”

"Yes, she does,” Len said. “She has a lot of love. What about the rest? What should we do?”

“We can go, now. We can’t do any more. I can’t…I’m tired and wanna sleep, wanna see Momma Misty,” Zane talked more like a baby. “They’ll clean up all they can, and what they can’t…well…that’s okay; we have them all back.” He looked at Len, Kim, and Nick.

“Thank you, Zane,” Len said softly.

“I was supposed to help, but now, I wanna go to sleep; did I do good?”

“You did fantastic. You saved our lives,” Len told him.

Zane smiled and watched the wolves and then looked out the window as he was falling asleep. Zane let a tear fall. “Bye, bye, Mommy.”

6

Hopetown

While the teams got Len, Kim, and Nick free of the Reconstruction Army and worked on that situation, the residents of Hopetown had their own work. George sat under a big oak tree in the shade, watching the gate sometimes, looking at the cats chasing one another as they ran among the trees, and watching everyone else working on projects all over the place.

Men and women on foot and on horses patrolled with AK-47s on their backs, and if not for the guns, they would have looked as if they were just out for horseback rides. It was serene under the trees, a cool wind blew, and everything within the fence was coming along beautifully as gardens and orchards were stripped and winter seed was planted; greenhouses were filled again for a more varied harvest.

He enjoyed the scents of the trees, the horses, freshly tilled soil, and wood smoke, but George was sobered by the knowledge that the ground was dug up for a grave and then closed, the horses carried people who watched for approaching threats, and that the smoke from items still burned after having being pulled out of the scene of a massacre. Reality intruded from all sides.

Nothing was as it seemed once George got a good look. Someone, coming up to the fence to be let in, could be secretly infected and waiting to spread the infection and to consume the victim. It could be a small child, a family, an older couple, or anyone else who carried the disease. Smiles could be hiding infected saliva.

The twinkle of light in the sunshine might be a truck full of a paramilitary, known as the Reconstruction Army that sought torture, pain, and chaos.

George wasn’t ready to surrender to it, not yet because he wasn’t ready to set his terms. Six months had passed in which he had faced the worst: an infection that caused half of the population to succumb to a hemorrhagic virus, fall into comas, and awake as cannibals, biting and eating other humans to spread the prion-based infection.  Other perfectly healthy evil people committed atrocities for amusement. He faced the deaths of good, brave people he cared about and a rain of bombs from the sky sent by deluded, remaining people who were sworn to uphold the government.

It was horrific to see people having to shoot friends in the head because they were infected or watch someone drink a lethal cocktail so he could go to sleep before being shot in the head. Watching someone being torn and bitten to shreds while screaming throughout the torture was another thing George saw.

But he also saw some good things: he saw brave people risk or give their own lives to save friends, heroic rescues, unwavering loyalty and caring, and love. He saw regular people become warriors, trained and always ready, and those who became teachers and nurses because they were needed, and leaders emerge from fragile shells.

Where this was once a fenced compound for a religious zealot, it was now a safe home for people who enjoyed community spirit and hard work so that they had plenty of food, sanitation, a medical bay, a library, a school, comfortable living quarters, and sustainability. They had horses and livestock, chickens, gardens, a river of clean water, and plenty of room, but it wasn’t quite right.

George sighed.

“Why are you sighing? I brought you a sitrep?” Alex asked as he joined George on the bench.

“Just thinking about what went wrong and right.” Days before, the infection was inside the compound, and only heavy checks, some logical deductions, good medical work, and good team work saved them from becoming drooling zombies.

They were secure again, the scenes of the bloodshed cleaned and trash burned, the dead buried, and projects worked on all over the area. But the good things hardly made a dent in the bad ones.

Seven men and a woman, eight of the best fighters, went to exact vengeance on the woman and child who knowingly killed and set the infection loose in the compound.  Then only five returned, along with prisoners they took and a report that was chilling. Then, they left again, intent on getting out the three men who were left before they were crucified.

The thought of their being crucified made George want to cry.

“Andie is better,” Steve said, “a millimeter more, and she would have died. She’s up and around,” Alex said.

“I’m glad to know that it was a close one. She’s a fighter.”

“Julia is gung-ho over the patches. She has people working on that. I admit I laughed at first; it was as if they were getting Boy Scout badges, but then, I saw why it made sense,” Alex said. He showed George a piece of fabric. “This goes first on the sleeve, and Hannah says it is easily stamped, so people can have them on all of their shirts. It’s easy to add them and later to add stamps.”

“Hmmm. That makes sense, I suppose. Three?”

“Three stamps across it. First is the rank. See? This is Julia’s, and it has the symbol that she is an attendant or second to the king.”

“King?”

“Governor. Sorry, it’s originally from the sign for king. We’re doing what we can, trying to make them fit; four will wear that. Len, Beth, and Julia, since they advise you, and you five decide things at the top.”

“That’s three. I appointed Kim as fourth.”

“He’s considering it,” Alex said. “I think he’ll take the spot since he’s out with Len right now hunting Carla and Robbie. That shows he is involved and that he always has been Len’s second, He and Mark. Anyway, all others will have that spot empty. Second spot: Hannah says that is the area of service. She has stamps for skills: teachers, medical, defense, and law as you said you wanted. Not a ton to remember, and they look kind of like what they symbolize.”

“And the third?”

“Service symbol: to show unity. Hannah says we can stamp a small symbol in the center of that one for Supreme Being to show God or Allah or whatever people want or whatever Julia and the rest think; it’s just being figured out.”

George nodded: rank, service area, Unity with God, if desired. He liked it so far. They came to him with the plan, saying they all needed to have something to show the pride they have and to get a pat on the back with new symbols. Hannah, who was Beth’s adopted daughter, a brilliant girl, found a way to make the stamps, use dye, and then make them for each person to sew onto work BDUs or shirts. So at a glance, they could see who was who. “Then below that...the merit badges?” he laughed.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Well, they say it will mean a lot to some people. Hannah found symbols for bravery, valor, and more.”

“All from the book on West African symbols? It is Adrinkra; each symbol has a parable, Hannah told me, so each sleeve would essentially tell a story about the person wearing it. I like that, Alex.”

“I want one for gay pride.”

“What?”

Alex laughed. “I’m joking; you need to smile more; it’s all good.”

“I like the patches.”

“It is kind of interesting,” Alex said, “for now; Hannah will soon be on to another project.”

“I think it will say something about people we have to bury.”

“That’s depressing of you. Okay, dorm cleaned and back to normal, and Julia is drawing up better security plans for emergencies.”

“How is Len emotionally?”

“Awe, George, I dunno.  He’s pretty crazed, losing his girlfriend and adopted daughter; it was a new relationship, but we all loved Maryanne. I think everyone is upset,” Alex said. “This mission helped him have some revenge, I’m sure he sounded like a smart ass, again.”

“I admit it hit me mighty hard,” George said, “Beth?”

“She’s livid, still vowing revenge.”

George laughed. “I can imagine that from her. One day I won’t be governor, and you need to help me groom the next one. I think Mark should be in my place one day; he’s young enough to stay a while, and Matt is right for head of security when Len retires. He needs grooming. I want you and the kid, Jet, training for advisors.”

“I hope it isn’t soon, but I’m humbled, wow, and you know that would so make me the oldest there with them; I need an old age stamp.”

George laughed loudly now. “Now, that is a stamp Hannah can make for me.”

It was getting late, so he followed Alex to the dining hall. The mood was quieter than usual, but people were hungry and shared ideas all around. George saw Hannah and called her over. “Let’s see that sleeve.”

She grinned and turned. “Rank is none. I mean I don’t have a rank. Then you see defense? That’s symbolic of the King’s gun: governor’s gun; team leaders have stripes underneath. Mom, come here….”

Beth came over and greeted George. As Hannah asked, she showed her sleeve where she put the rank of advisor, then the defense symbol with two lines under it, then her unity symbol with the symbol for God underneath.

Hannah pointed back to her own sleeve. “I have the symbol for creativity since I came up with this. Mom doesn’t.”

“I see. So you earned that one? I’m proud of you, Hannah. Creativity is just as important as anything, and it can mean life or death in some cases. Pak and Julia got out of some trouble by using creativity.”

“Knowing how to escape.”

“Yes. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, George. Right. Julia gave it to me. Mom has the bravery one: the extraordinary feat one that is a snake, see? It’s a snake trying to climb a tree, which is very difficult. So you can see what all Mom has done by looking, and it tells a story.” Hannah was proud of her mother.

(Beth’s symbols)

“Makes sense to me,” George said, “and everyone has a symbol, huh?”

“Everyone likes it and wants to get more with some work; some competition is good for us.”

“You like it, Beth?”

“Yes, George,” she faltered, “I’m worried about Kim and Juan both being out there; I don’t want either to get hurt.”

“Stop worrying; it’s not helpful and makes frown lines…. ”He put his arm around her, and they went to dinner.

Often there was a stew because it fed many and was something they could make from the vegetables they grew and the meat from animals they raised.  Stew was being served this time, along with bread and butter that some of the women had churned, a squash dish, fruit salad, pecan and pumpkin pies, and apple-pear cobbler for dessert.

Beth looked calmer after they had eaten well.

They were to be treated to a night of some entertainment as the children put on a little show, and Jilly Montaine sang disco tunes that made everyone smile, remembering when those were popular. As the children put on their show, several couldn’t help but notice that Toni, the little girl who died, was missing from the stage.

Bernie waved at Beth and Julia.

“What’s up?” Julia asked, as Mark and Misty joined them outside where they could hear Jilly singing about ‘I feel love’.

Bernie spoke in low tones, making motions and explaining as the four stood with shocked looks on their faces and open mouths. He said that Conner needed them at the gate and to keep it quiet.

Mark gave Beth and Julia squeezes on their arms as they walked.

They walked down to the gate, whispering a little as they went, wondering what to think; Beth’s mind already whirled.

Outside the gate, Carla stood with little Robbie who was injured and bleeding. His little face was pale, and he was in a little pain, but it was mostly fear that they saw etched on his face. Hybrids might not feel as much pain, but they could be scared and could die.

Conner did not open the gate, just called and waited for the others. “I left them out there; I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing,” Mark said. “They would have been lynched.”

“Puts,” Julia said.

“Told you that no one would welcome you back,” Conner told Carla.

“I know you hate me. I know what I did. I am here to beg for mercy.”

“We have eight people out there headed to Colonel Davis to find you and execute you for what you did. You ate a person; what kind of freak are you, Carla? Wait, we know; the worst kind there is,” Mark said coldly, “and you want mercy?”

“I didn’t know; I figured someone would come looking. Look, Robbie was injured, and we got away, but then we backtracked here. He’s just a little boy, and he’s hurt. Whatever you do to me is okay; I’m just asking for mercy for him. I did it; blame me, not him. Please.”

“Why would we show any mercy? You sure as hell didn’t show any when you bit, ate, and let the infection loose in here.”

“I’m sorry. It…the hunger gets uncontrollable; Dr. Diamond lied. We have to have the raw meat…it…it takes over...the need does. We didn’t know it would do this to us; we had no idea what the vaccine did.”

“You didn’t know what that vaccine would turn you into, but there’s no going back: same as if you were infected from Red or a bite. If you’re infected, you get put down, no matter what because you are dangerous; it’s the same thing,” Conner said.

“No….”

“Yes. A vaccine changed you. Some have been changed by a bite; you regret it, you hate, and fear it, but you are contagious, same thing,” Mark said. “But unlike the Zs, you knew what you would cause.”

“My husband had the vaccine first; you know about him, Hendricks? I’m Carla Hendricks. I was number seven to get the vaccine.”

“I see,” Beth said. “Dr. Diamond shouldn’t have been playing Dr. Frankenstein. These false cures…I was there at the National Guard Armory, and I saw what a false cure could do. It killed a bunch of uninfected people when they were bitten and torn to shreds.”

“I didn’t make the vaccine,” Carla said, “I’m a victim. Robbie is a victim.”

Beth glared. “You hid the contagion, and you cut two people’s throats to eat them.”

“I didn’t know I would be this; we weren’t told, but they called us Angels, and we aren’t, are we? We’re monsters. Yes, I did that. I did. But please show Robbie some mercy, just him, please. I know everyone of you has compassion and mercy deep within yourselves. I am here begging for him, not for myself.”

“You cut that man’s throat and ate part of him, infected his wife, caused others to be infected and die, caused Len’s girlfriend and adopted daughter to be infected and killed and cut Andie’s throat and almost killed her. So why in the hell are you here?” Mark roared. “You have now put eight more people in harm’s way, trying to find you and execute you for your crimes. No mercy or compassion is left.”

Carla cried, holding Robbie so they could see he was cut. She and the child did look pitiful.

“How was he hurt?” Misty asked. She was pregnant, and like everyone, to see a child in misery was difficult. No one was cruel or cold to that.

“The people we ran away with…we fought over a knife, and he was injured, but it was me who did the bad things, not him; he’s a child.”

Conner groaned out loud. “No different from any other infected zombies, except you knew better and you can use a knife, unreal.”

Carla ignored that. “Beth, you have children, please show mercy to this child and let him come in. Help my child. Just let him in? Please? He needs a doctor.” The boy was covered in blood from a stomach wound. Tape and pads were soaked. Any regular person would be on the ground from pain alone, and he looked as if he might pass out at any point, but it was obviously not a quick, fatal wound.

“You’re asking for my mercy?” Beth asked.

“Please, they’ll do as you ask; I beg of you.”

“Of me?”

Carla nodded. “Won’t you show Robbie mercy if Beth asks you?” she asked the people who stared at her with hatred.

Mark glared, and then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll do as Beth asks.” He founds it hard to learn to be like George taught: to see all sides and be strong and protective, but also merciful, to listen to others’ opinions, and lead by example.

Misty looked at Carla and Robbie, some sympathy for the child in her eyes; then, she looked at Beth and nodded, “Whatever you feel, Beth.” Then, she looked away. It was a hard life lesson she was also trying to learn well.

Julia, Beth’s best friend on earth, sighed. She wouldn’t debate the issue with Beth, but she also knew her friend still had the look of a thousand-yard stare, a need for vengeance, and penchant for pure rage, despite her calm exterior.

Julia knew she, like Len and Kim, crossed over to an emotional place that was crazed with fury. Julia understood this psychological side, and she knew how her friend could be softhearted and sweet, but also, that she was now pushed to the brink of sanity with so much emotional turmoil.

Beth looked at Julia, asking for her understanding.

Julia nodded without saying anything. She supported Beth unconditionally but wasn’t sure what her friend would decide. This was a hard choice.

“By your actions, you have put my friends at risk and my baby and me at risk. You are a filthy, disgusting hybrid, half zombie, and I once swore I would not hesitate to kill one if given the chance.”

“Please, Beth.”

Beth walked closer to the fence and looked tenderly at Robbie, who was eight. “They lied to you, saying the vaccine was a good thing. You’re a monster.” She drew her Sig Sauer and placed a shot into his head. He slumped against Carla as she wailed.

Beth turned to her and saw Carla’s big eyes pleading, pained with losing her child, not understanding the hatred and rage that was Beth; Beth cocked her head to one side and shot Carla between the eyes.

7

All My Children

It was the first day of February that Beth went into labor. She knew how the baby would be born, practiced breathing with Julia, her coach and best friend, but still wasn’t prepared. She didn’t really realize the difference between hospital births before Z Day and after.

All of the injuries people complained about, all of the wounds; everything in the past that she thought was painful paled as she suffered in labor. Doc and Steve said this was normal, but they were men, and Beth was pretty sure she was dying since no pain could feel this way and be normal. They told her the screaming was scaring Misty, who was due in days, but she threatened to scream louder until they stopped shushing her.

Steve, her brother, frequently glared at Beth which, more than anything, told her she must be doing okay if he could still be angry.

“I’d sterilize myself if I could decide how to use the blow torch on my fallopian tubes,” Julia said as Beth gripped her hand. “Hand me one, and I’ll start for you….” “You are about ready to start pushing, Beth; then, in a few hours….”“Hours? Oh, hell no, I’m pushing this kid out, now,” she responded. Her stomach was huge, she was in pain, and she was exhausted. Hours to finish this wasn’t an option she liked, and from the looks of Julia’s hand, she wouldn’t make it much longer before all of her hand bones would be crushed, yet she didn’t complain, only gritted her teeth as Beth clamped down on her poor hand, again.

“Juan is beside himself out there, and Kim is scared to death; both are driving me about insane,” Doc complained.Rolling her eyes, Beth wondered why he had a reason to complain. If the men were being big worry-babies, then let the doctor deal with it. Both were being pests. Kim was growling under his breath and snapping at people needlessly. Juan was out in the waiting room, pacing, muttering concerns but always pacing, his boots scuffing the floor as he turned in the room to walk back the other way.

In addition, Len was there, cursing and demanding that this process hurry while George tried to sooth all of them and tried to stay strong and calm. Alex made jokes with Hannah while Jet was teasing Katie; she was pulling at her braids, a nervous habit she had taken up.

Misty was wide-eyed scared since she was only sixteen and due any day. She wasn’t as big as Beth, so Beth took a little delight in her fear but only a tiny bit. Outside of the room, more friends were concerned and waiting for news.  With determination, Beth began the worst part, ready to get this finished. In half an hour, the doctors were astounded as she began the delivery of the baby.“One more, Beth,” Doc grinned happily, “let’s get it out; push hard.”

“Do you think I’ve been only working half-heartedly?” Beth was irritated with him. There was a giant pressure, and then Steve stepped back with a big smile on his face as he held a baby in a blanket, wiping and working with it.

“I’m an uncle,” he said as if he had accomplished something. He went on Beth’s shit list, as well. A sound like a mewling baby kitten sounded, making everyone smile, but Beth’s stomach still cramped terribly; she squealed. Julia gasped with the pressure on her hand.

Doc leaned forward with raised eyebrows and told her to push again. Beth assumed it was the after birth, but Doc was laughing like a loon. “Beth, we have two.”“Two what?” She pushed and then lay down as he gathered a second baby in a blanket. “Two babies?” It was more than a shock. She didn’t know what to do with one, much less two, but it was good news, anyway. Beth waited for Julia to confirm that there were really two babies.

Julia washed off Beth’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Twins, no wonder you were so big, Beth.”

“You just went to my growing list of people I’m mad at,” Beth snarled.

Ann and Velma helped the doctors, and in a few minutes, they settled two babies into Beth’s arms, two healthy, beautiful girls, not identical, but perfect. Julia couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at them as if she had borne them herself.

She had a gooey look on her face. People always say mothers forget the labor, and that’s why they can have more babies, but Beth swore she’d never forget. Julia already had the sappy look that told everyone she would want to have babies.

Poor, silly girl, Beth thought.

In a while, they allowed Kim, Juan, George, Len, Hannah, Alex, and Misty to come in. They all edged around the wall, almost afraid to go near the bed and the babies. Steve warned them, and the screams worried them.

Beth giggled. Julia gave up her place so Kim could see his daughters.“You had two?” Kim stared. “I guess I did,” she admitted. Where else would she have gotten the second one? Men could be so damned stupid at times. “Imagine that. You want to hold one?”

He looked as if he had been offered some dynamite to hold with the fuse lit. He looked at his hands where he still had scars from the metal spikes, wondering how on earth to hold a baby in those big, hard-working hands of his. Kim didn’t know what to do with two babies.

Kim looked fully unready and lost as Doc helped him with one baby. Looking down into her face, Kim eyed her as if she were an alien being, which made the rest chuckle.

“She’s…well…a pretty baby. Does she look like me?”

“No, thank God,” Len quipped. But Kim looked so stricken that Len amended what he said.

“She looks like her own person…and pretty as Beth…but a little like you: the reddish brown hair is all you.”

“Ahhh,” he said, “does she have a name yet?”

“This is Georgie Julianna. After George, Jules, and Misty’s middle name,” Beth said, almost challenging him to disagree. George almost swooned, hearing the first girl’s name; he was very pleased with it. Misty grinned, and Julia again looked as if she had done all the work.

“And this is Stevie Kimberlen. I didn’t use your name, Alex; Misty won it when we played cards for names. This baby is named for her uncle, her daddy, and you, Len.” I swear all three men looked all weepy to hear that. Len began complaining about his allergies all at once so no one would catch that he was touched.

Misty patted her belly, “Lex Michael or Lexie Beth.”

“Beth, you and Misty…those are some strange names,” Alex said. “Big names for such little babies.” Everyone laughed.

“They are excellent names,” Len said. He backed away when Kim offered the baby to him; he wasn’t ready for that yet.”  I like the names a lot. They sound strong.”

Kim held Georgie as he sat in one chair, and Juan, still sitting, held Stevie.

Doc and Steve tossed everyone out as soon as they could, leaving Ann to help Beth so she could rest and get to know her babies. Katie, Hannah, and Jet stayed a little longer to see their sisters. “You aren’t related by blood, but you are all my children,” Beth told them. “Jet, you have a big responsibility to care for your sisters.” He was thrilled.

It was that evening that Jett removed his ‘piercings’ with care, cut off his long hair in a style like Len wore, and started his journey to becoming a man. He never gave up his affinity for black clothing, but he began stepping up more to help the others.

Misty gave birth to Lexie, her daughter, a day later, and Mark was able to sit and grin like crazy over his child. To her credit, she screamed less, was not grumpy, and had an easier delivery.

8

Expansions

The survivors were fortunate that the winter was mild in Texas. Although there were plenty of food and warmth, they had taken in so many additional survivors that the compound was crowded; the teams reinforced it against future threats.

Not far from the front gate was an apartment building that Norman Pope, founder of the compound, fought against it being built, but it was built anyway. It would be perfect for housing more people who came to live at the compound.

George and Len thought that the reinforcements would be a lot of work, but they were well worth the effort to lengthen the security fence around the big building and to dig outside trenches.  The building could be used to house all of the survivors who were already in and for those who still filed in every few days.

While some were refused entrance and others were asked to leave because they didn’t fit in, most were welcome additions.

George set up the compound with certain principles and ideals of patriotism, family, work, and ethics.  Those who didn’t accept that or who would not follow the set standards had to find another place to live.  An entire world was out there to choose from.

Len drew his plans:  go through the apartment building and clean it, floor to floor since they knew to expect zombies.

All of that month, they set up a new fence, dug moats, and prepared the housing addition but did not open it to the main compound. Teams guarded the area while others added the security around the building.

Not once did anyone forget that as many as a hundred thousand of the infected patrolled the ruined downtown area, attacked people who came through the city, and hunted down anyone who went close to his usual area.

“It stinks in here,” Len said. He didn’t have to point that out or remind them since they already had pulled bandanas over their noses when they went into the lobby of the apartment building. They passed around a container of Vicks to rub under their noses.

Len saw two zombies moaning as they saw the intruders. The creatures finished a last meal long ago, leaving only bones of a body near a pair of expensive green chairs in a sitting area.

Both bodies were covered in old, dried bites and bruises on their grayish yellow skin, which remained after all of this time. Neither starved to death or stopped being animated, despite having no food and water; the only big difference was that no food went down their throats nor came back out, so their clothing was matted with old waste, but nothing new.

They didn’t rot completely although some pieces of them did when they were torn off of the body and left hanging. The prions somehow kept the tissue from disintegrating, so it eroded and could be torn off, but the bodies were much the same as they were when they met their end. They weren’t totally alive, but they weren’t dead, body-wise either.

Len shot one in the head as Kim took the other, almost casually putting them down, two more of many they found during the last year. Most felt that the essence of the person or the soul was long gone, so it was only right the body should be put down and not used as a meat puppet.

Len called out, hoping to bring any of the shambling creatures to the group, rather than their seeking out the shamblers.

“Hey, dead things, here we are; come get us,” he stopped yelling. “It still makes no sense even with what we know:  they don’t decompose or starve, like get skinny, or something.”

He shot, missed, and fired again, killing a nude woman whose clothing was torn off of her body and whose stomach was ripped open. Her bowels and stomach area were long-since dried out, matching her ripped out hair and scalp.

The shamblers were always more and more disgusting.   Seeing people shambling even though they had massive wounds was offensive; if they were their old selves, they would have been horrified to be acting like that.

Rae shrugged. “I don’t think they even understood what they created anyway; maybe the doctor made his stupid vaccine, but what did that do besides lightly infect people?”

She shot at a man who crawled along: his lower half was missing, hands eroded by the floor he crawled on, making them look as if he had paws. He snapped, hissed, and bit at the air with his dirty teeth until Rae blew his brains out through the back of his head, spraying the wall with grey, red, and greenish yellow gore. Rae looked at the spray of gore where the prions were, knowing they controlled the infection and the behavior but couldn’t be seen, which mystified Rae.

“I may be one of those people who think UFOs are after us and that conspiracy shit is real, but I wonder what they were really after?”

“And did Dr. Diamond develop it?” Kim asked, “We should have made him tell us.” He stretched his hands and worked out the kinks. His hands ached at times, and they weren’t like they used to be, but they were healed well. He knew Zane had something to do with it.

“He always lied. I’d never believe a word he said. He never did admit he was patient zero,” Rev said. “I think it was more like he wanted to live forever; he said the vaccinated were Angels, a special species. What a nut. He played God; that is all he did.”

“They’re ‘special’, sure they are.” Len nudged a corpse. “Maybe, there is a deep meaning to all this, but I sure as hell don’t get it.”

Rae went around and down the hallway with Rev and several others following her.

“Storage and amenities on this level; fourteen one-bedrooms on floors two through ten; then eleven through fifteen are three-bedrooms, seven per floor; and sixteen through twenty are more spacious three-and four-bedrooms, with four per floor. Two hundred six apartments.” Len viewed the fire escape plans on the walls as he announced his findings. That was a lot to thoroughly search and secure, but these would be welcomed rooms for more people.

“That should get every family into a place, and singles can double up with that many rooms,” Kim said. “Is Mark going to add that to his platform?
Len laughed. “I think he had governorship locked down with George’s helping him talk to everyone and making good with people; everyone likes Mark, and he’s become rather calm and sage-like.”

“Sage-like?” Kim almost lost it, laughing at that. “I never thought I’d see the day. Mark, calm, but George will be around a while anyway; he’s a tough old bird. We need him more than we even realize.”

“I saw your twins today…almost two months old; I can’t believe they’re so cute.”

“Fat. I think Beth over feeds them but try telling her anything; she knows all about babies,” said Kim as he sulked.

These days, he had all of the time he wanted with his daughters, but Juan always seemed to be around. That was okay; Kim owed the man his life, but this was becoming an emotional rollercoaster. He wanted Beth back so badly, but she didn’t seem to be choosing Kim or Juan: she was always busy with the children.

“Gym and pool cleared,” Julia announced as she and her team checked the storage areas. They found only one more shambler on the entire bottom floor; the rest of the floors were clear of danger, a definite relief. The fewer they found, the less work they had in removing bodies and the stench that went along with them.

Another team swept back through with a slower, more careful approach in case any were hidden in small spaces. In her mind, Julia thanked whoever drained the pool to repair it so that they didn’t have to search the water.

The first floor was a lot of the same: their nerves on edge as they went into tighter places: a strong risk of being backed against a wall and overcome by small zombies and crawlers.

In several apartments, infected families were still aimlessly wandering, waiting for food to stumble by.

In one apartment, a father and a baby obviously caught Red and went into a coma, cared for by the mother. Kim looked greenish, thinking about his own daughters, wondering what he would do if they were infected. He shuddered.

Then, looking around at the apartment, Kim thought it would need to be stripped of all belongings, repainted, carpet removed, and scrubbed.

Len, Rae, Rev, and Big Bill were reminded of another time when they walked into a room to find a baby in a crib who was dead and then returned to wail and moan; Len shot the baby, and afterward, Len was unable to look Kim in the eyes. That was the first time they ever saw Len vomit with pure revulsion. It was sickening and sad to see the smallest of victims.

Len and Rae remembered an infected, unborn baby, half in and half out of the womb, its mother dead.  Some how situations like that brought all of it home in a personal way. “We have to be more secure; what if we aren’t secure enough?” he muttered as the rest of the shamblers were put down.

Sometime later, Len made notes on a small pad and frowned. “That’s half of the apartments cleared with only one or more bodies inside; where are the others? Where did they go?”

“Maybe they tried to get into a rescue center, or maybe they were some of the ones in cars on the highway.  If they had Red, and I heard that the churches were packed with those who caught it, maybe they would still be there,” Rae said.

With his team, Juan came huffing down to meet them in the lobby so that they could call it a day and report back to all who waited to see what the sitrep evaluation of the apartment building was.

“Len, I won’t ask you to trudge all the way to the twentieth floor to look out on the balcony….”

“Appreciate that,” Len chuckled, “what did you all see? Good view?”

Juan didn’t respond at first. From that vantage point, he was able to see a lot of the city from all directions.

In one direction was the city where a few places smoldered, and concrete and rubble were amid the stalled out cars. Some buildings were without their glass, had crumbles of masonry, and looked as if they were from some old-time war era, which, in a way, was exactly true.

Shambling dead were so thick that they bottlenecked many streets in their ceaseless search for food, forming groups to hunt and calling one another with the infernal moaning if they found a food source.

In another direction were more of the neighborhoods like those where George lived; the houses had three bedrooms with small yards but were well built and nice for a family. These yards died with the dry heat and then with the winter. Swing sets, fences, and even the homes themselves were deep with rot or burned in the years after Z day.

Some had pools in the backyards, bringing to mind the zombies that had been under the water and attacked one of Julia’s crew the summer before.

Mosquitoes thrived there, now. A few zombies shambled through the houses, and old rotted bodies and stalled out cars were in the streets, some of which the survivor teams left behind.  It was a pitiful thing to see the nice homes so torn up, an epitome of the world as a whole.

In another direction was where the ammunition plant was bombed, leaving scorched earth, ashes, rubble, and a blast radius of ruins. Glass twinkled amid the trash.

That was a bad thing to look at, wondering why the government bombed cities to end the plague but instead only killed survivors. The fires and blast took much to the ground or to unrecognizable heaps, but it didn’t cleanse the world.

It was the fourth direction that captured Juan’s attention, and in some ways, he would have preferred not to have seen it nor reported it.

Right on the highway nestled into the unmoving, old traffic of cars and trucks, was a large airliner, broken into small and some huge pieces by the failed landing attempt.

Off to the side road was a series of commercial places: restaurants, bookstores, sporting goods stores, a home improvement store, shopping centers, boutiques, and a few apartment complexes; one had a fairly new SOS white sheet hanging from an upper floor.

Juan didn’t see any movement as he watched, but he felt people were waiting for a rescue, hoping someone was coming to help them, yet not knowing that the survivors had a secure compound close to them.

Len listened carefully and bit the inside of his mouth as he considered it: “Could be people who came this way and got trapped or people who had been there a while, makes me curious, regardless.”

“It made me think that pockets of people must be all over the place. Trapped or hiding a year after the fact, scavenging for supplies and wondering what will happen,” Juan said. That idea made him sorry for those who were still out wandering.

“A year,” Kim muttered, “I can’t imagine that they have hidden that long. Think of all we’ve been through in a year’s time.”

“In a way it could be better…saner, but then imagine no fresh food and no news about the world, I’d go crazy.”

“You have gone crazy anyway, Len.” Kim laughed. “Hey, Juan, climb up to floor twenty, look around some more, and see if you see anything else.”

Juan gave him a dirty look. “You go; you need the exercise.” They all shared a long laugh. “That’s a hell of a climb.”

They walked back to the main grounds, going through security for bite checks:  all showed clean, not infected.

“Problem in medical bay, Len. You might want to check it. Mark and Alex are on it, but….” Conner shrugged. “It’s not Beth, or one of the regulars, jeez,” he added that as soon as he saw worried faces looking at him. He reminded himself that they were worriers with good reason.

A few trailed Len as he went to medical bay. Whatever the problem was, medical bay was fairly quiet as only a few were around. George sat in medical and waved at them. “’Lots to tell you, later,” Len said to him, “what’s up here?”

Mark and Alex stood by a closed door with guns down, but available, frustrated, tired looks on both of their faces. Doc went through and waved as he passed, “Mark and Alex have it…don’t mind me…not a thing I can do.”

Len looked perplexed. “Huh? Since when can Doc not do everything?”

“Remember that lady who came in yesterday with her husband? She had the small baby with her?”

“Yeh, I saw them at dinner; they were both half-starved.”

“The problem is the baby; Doc says it has Red.”

Len felt as if he were slapped. “No. It couldn’t. That ended after they turned; that was a year ago. We never saw later cases.” He slumped into a seat beside George.

“It’s a strange thing.”

“Those symptoms could be other things, right? It wouldn’t have to be Red.”

“We didn’t see any more after that. Doc guesses that was because they all turned; everyone either came down with it or was immune,” George said.

“But Doc thinks…again; he’s guessing that maybe that was the initial outbreak, but whatever it was could be viewed more like a common cold. It’s with us all the time, and those of us with immunity are safe, but new people or babies, wouldn’t have immunity automatically.”

“My girls may be in danger?” Kim asked, knowing that if Beth had heard, she was already in a panic.

Mark shook his head. “Doc is going on a theory that Steve agrees with. He thinks that if both parents have immunity, then they will be okay.” He explained they knew the man with the woman was not the father of the baby and the father  died of Red during the initial outbreak. “So the father didn’t have immunity, but she was. The baby had a fifty-fifty chance.” His calm demeanor made Kim and Juan both stop worrying about the babies so much.

“The problem is that Doc says this is Red for sure; he saw many cases, remember. But, of course, he did what he could; there’s only so much that can be done for a hemorrhagic virus.” Alex grimaced. They all knew the symptoms and didn’t wish them on anyone, much less a small child:  the victims bled so badly, had diarrhea, vomited, had high fever, and then went into a coma. “And there we have the problem.”

“I’m sorry to hear the baby is sick,” Kim added.

Alex was a sensitive soul, and his eyes were sad.  “It’s terrible.”

Mark shook his head. “That’s not it. Kimball…think….”

“Poor thing will go into a coma; that’s rough….” He imagined what would happen then.

No doubt Doc and Steve would give the baby something so that he never finished the cycle and could be taken care of; if Mark and Alex were here, that would be their duty to put the child down, a bad deal.

He didn’t envy anyone this job at all. Maybe Mark wasn’t the best one for it since he had a small son. Kim gave Len and George a glance.

“It’s advanced in this case. It may be the age, or it may be mutated, but he’s already gone into the coma.”

“That…well…is he…did you?” Juan tried to work it out.

“The mother and dad locked themselves up with the baby in here.” Mark motioned to the room behind him.

“We’re waiting,” Alex added.

“That’s why I came here; this isn’t easy for anyone, especially for those of you with kids,” George said.

He almost jumped out of his skin as a shot thundered from the room, a second one. A third. Mark pivoted and popped the door open, gun drawn. Alex was right beside him, face dejected.

Kim, Len, and Juan immediately pulled side arms to cover them.

The man was to one side, his own gun beside him, his face partially obliterated by the shot. Everything below his eyes was a mangled mess of red flesh and muscles, the tongue half-extended, teeth littering the floor.

He was somehow still alive, probably, Kim thought, what they called a flincher or someone who flinches at the last second, throwing off the gut just enough to cause massive damage to the face but not enough damage to the brain to be a killing shot.

People left like this were often hooked up to machine, ventilated, and left in terrible pain with only parts of a face. Failed suicides were something police saw, and emergency workers grimaced over since the person was far worse off than before.

He moaned deep in his throat, and Mark shot him in the head, putting him out of the pain. No way existed that could fix him with their limited medical supplies, and he hadn’t wanted to live before, much less, now.

George gave a curt nod as he was a proponent for people deciding their own lives and death, but he hated to know the man suffered.

Mark leaned over and gagged a little.

The baby was sick, went into a short coma, and then returned with the prions in control. It was starving for human flesh, and the prions only lived to replicate.

The mother bared a breast to nurse the child when he awoke, but he was no longer human.  He had only gums but mauled at her nipple, finally able to pull some of it off and infect her. She let him swallow her blood, holding him, but then she turned, too.

Juan pointed to her bloody hand. Her nails were caked with red, and Juan looked back at the woman’s bared breast. “I think she scratched herself; it wanted to feed.” He was repulsed but somehow fascinated by the act. She  loved the baby enough for this?

Kim nodded. He thought the same thing.

When she turned, the man shot them both and then himself. The horror and sorrow the man suffered watching this must have been immense. Mark turned to the rest. “We decided to wait and let them do as they wanted. None of the infected would have moved past this door.”

“It wasn’t an easy choice,” George admitted. “Some would have forcibly taken the baby away; I don’t know what’s right or wrong, but we let them decide, and that’s what we have to do. We can’t force people to live….” He patted Mark’s back.

“It was hard.”

“It always is. But who am I or you to say someone must live? Who are we to decide? Sometimes, we have to make a hard choice and decide who dies because he is infected or dangerous such as those RA people. We can sometimes decide death, but we don’t have the right to make people live.” George sighed. “It’s all about respect for people to have choices when they aren’t evil, the bad ones?  They don’t get a choice.”

“I don’t know if I could do it, George.” Mark looked unsure.

“I didn’t ask for this, Mark. If you recall, all of you made me be the governor. I agreed, and all along, I didn’t like some choices that I was given. I didn’t want it. I’m an old, grumpy man, but as long as you want me in this place, I’ll follow my conscience and do what I think is right.”

“Amen,” Juan said.

“Me, too,” Len agreed, “we do the best we can. I hope these folks have peace.”

Doc looked around the corner. “What a mess. Get this cleaned up, you hear? I have patients, and gun shots make them nervous,” he grumbled, putting his feelings aside. There was no time to mourn.

9

Mission

Matt, Jet, Alex, and Pak were in one vehicle while Carl and John were in the monster truck, and Juan and Teeg were in the other. Beth hated letting them go; she hugged her adopted son until he blushed; then, shr kissed Juan and told them to be safe. She gave Teeg and Carl hard high-fives; this was her team that she loved.

“Jules was mad at not being able to come with us,” Matt said, secretly enjoying her jealousy as they drove out. “She gave me a mad kiss.”

“Least you got a kiss,” Pak grumbled. Jet made smacking noise at him until they were elbowing one another in a play fight that made Matt wonder: who were the real children?

One day Matt would be head of security, and Jet and Alex would advise him, so they needed this practice for the future, dreading when they would have that full responsibility. Matt felt he had so much to learn from people such as Juan, Teeg, and Carl, always brave and loyal. They were smart; no, they were clever.

He parked on the side of the highway after Carl bumped cars aside, and they followed the big truck along the sides, envious of his ease of movement.

In some cars, whole families pushed their faces against the car windows, moaning, slobbering ropey strings of saliva.  They were trying to reach the live people, having waited for months.

Mostly, they just sat in the cars, but as soon as they saw or heard people, they began trying to get free, some of them gnashing and ripping at the others in a frenzy. It was worse than seeing starving caged animals, in a way.

In some places, some dead bodies rotted, but mostly there were just bones; they littered the road and the cars, where they died of natural causes or were killed in the battle for the highway. Some used guns to put the infected down, but if they made it, no one knew.

Against one car, several ripped a person to shreds, leaving blood and gore behind and just a head that showed dirty teeth in a mimic of a growl. On the top of many vehicles were signs there had been a battle. People were on the street, trying to get out of the city while an equal amount tried to get into the city where they thought there might be help.

The CDC asked everyone to remain inside and not to look for help as no one was mobilized.

Any roadblocks were quickly ignored, but it was doubtful anyone was well enough even to make roadblocks, but was it best to block the entry or exit into a city? No one knew. After all of this time, there was not a good answer.

Sections of a Learjet were on the highway where it crashed into the pavement, months before when there was no one to put out flames, clear the rubble, or lend aid.

The tail section, split into two parts, didn’t separate entirely but burned hot and furiously, catching brush on fire and melting pavement. From behind the wings to the tail were bent metal, charred ruins, and soot in the middle of several cars, which also burned when the airliner went down.

Zombies from that area shambled around, still where they were when the infection swept the globe. They hissed around burned vocal chords, waving hands, burned-away fingers clawing in the air, and blackened skin hanging in tatters. Some melted; some had charred faces and arms that flaked away, eroding their bodies as they walked.

The men shot them with rifles, using their scopes before the Zs could start the moaning that would call a horde to them. The zombies didn’t react as much to the gunshots as the team always feared.

The Zs didn’t equate the gunfire with food, but several larger groups took notice of the activity and wandered closer. They were no longer capable of making connections, but once one began the moaning call, all would converge in the thousands, knowing the meant food was sighted.

“When they crashed, the plane may have been on fire, landing on the cars. The Zs came out of the flames, and that’s what we have here,” Jet said as he looked at the mess carefully. “But look there, those were shot; see their heads? Maybe someone did that long ago or later, no way to tell.”

“You’re as bad as Len about figuring things out,” Matt commented, but he was impressed and meant it as a compliment.

“I bet they thought they were okay in the air, then this happened,” Jet went on.

“Ain’t no place okay anymore,” Carl said.

The section before the wings was strange looking. The part where the captain sat was mostly intact, but the rest looked as if it were scalped with the top metal skimmed off above the windows.

Jet mumbled that he had no idea what caused that. “Unless it rolled. Looks scalped, huh?”

Pak climbed to a better point and then climbed back down. He saw two bodies, and while they were still strapped in their seats, they died of their wounds. Both rotted away in the elements, a reminder that no one came along and buried the dead anymore. He saw more corpses shambling around, becoming more curious.

Matt decided that since a few more were beginning to nose around, it was time to get back into the vehicles and drive closer to the window that had the SOS sign hanging from it.

The monster truck, with Carl driving, headed over the side, up an embankment, over a road, between two trucks, and into the parking lot of a small apartment building, tall, trendy, and very expensive a year before. Now, glass was missing, trash was all around, and it sat alone.

Matt fired his gun twice in the air in case anyone missed the shots fired next to the airplane. A face peeked out next to the SOS and motioned with his hand to wait for him.

“So someone is here,” Juan marveled. He had a bad feeling still in his gut, a feeling that Len always called hinky. He should have told Len the feeling he had, and Len would have vetoed the mercy mission outright.

The man opened a window on the second floor. “Friend or foe?” he asked, suspiciously. “We have guns and won’t hesitate to put a hole in all of you if you give us any trouble.”

“We’re here for your SOS,” Matt called back, suppressing a laugh. friend or foe? What movie did the man get that from? Didn’t he see the weaponry the team was carrying? It was enough to take out a small army, not that Matt felt cocky; he was anything but that, yet he thought the man needed a better one-liner as a greeting.

“You’re here to rescue us? Thank, God, finally. We waited so long….”

Matt knew that since they were all dressed in camo and boots and worked as a team, even if they didn’t have standard military vehicles, they looked like what had been the US military.

They might be taken as a rescue effort, might look as if they were here to make everything okay again, and might say there was a place where the world was normal again. Didn’t this man know the US military also caught Red and was wiped out?

All survivors wanted hope.

“We’ll help you anyway we can,” Matt said. “Do you need assistance?”

“We have needed it for a year,” the man said.

“No shit. So have we all,” Juan complained.

They were told to go to the lobby where a tiny doorway was usable, once furniture was moved away. They felt unnerved, going into the lobby with unknown people, but they all went in. Eight of them stood, facing the man who had peeked outside at them.

“I’m Sean. Are you really for us? Are we saved?”

“We are here to help if you need us; we can try to help. We are part of the US Militia, a rag tag group left over from the US military under the leadership of Colonel Len Bernhart. We are located at the compound formerly known as Popetown, now called Hopetown, with a governor, plenty of food and supplies.

We can offer hard work, medical help from two certified physicians, families, and constant, strict security,” Matt recited all he could think of.

“We saw your SOS,” Juan reminded the man.

“We’ve been here a year. We’ve scrounged all the food around here and have dealt with the Zeds.  We have people who are tired and sick, and we can’t make it alone, anymore.”

Sean glared at them as if they betrayed him. He must have been pinning a lot of hope on them as soon as he saw them. “We need to be rescued.”

They introduced themselves. “Sick? Bitten?” Carl asked.

“No, just normal things. We’re dirty and living like rats; this is it: either we find something better, or we give up,” Sean said. “Come on, you can see what I mean. I thought you were here to take us to safety.” He holstered his gun and didn’t seem worried about his visitors.

“There is no safety, per se, Sean. We are what there is left; we didn’t win this one; we lost.”

Up four flights, they stopped, and Sean led them to a section where the people had knocked down a few walls and made a commons area for the people. They had water and canned, boxed, and packaged food and other supplies that seemed meager, at best. How they survived the winter, albeit mild, was a big question.

“We were on that plane,” Sean said conversationally.

“You were? I didn’t think any were flying,” Carl said.

“They weren’t. A bunch of us were in Oklahoma City.” He saw that didn’t explain much. “We had families who got Red; we were chased by family; then, the zeds were after us.  We tried to find water and food and survive the small problems: diabetes and heart problems, and broken bones.  A bunch of us ended up right by the airport. It was all about running all the time; sometimes we only made it because someone was running slower than one of us.”

“In a zombie apocalypse, I only have to run faster than you,” quoted Carl. “People used to say that before it was true.”

Sean just shrugged. “We ran a lot.”

“How many?”

“Oh, back then? A lot, maybe forty or fifty. The ones I was with changed day-to-day as some were added, and some didn’t make it. We gathered in the terminal, but the zeds attacked several times; we didn’t have enough guns, food, or anything else. Some went with a military unit underground; we didn’t.”

“That happened to a lot of people, not having the basics,” John added.

“ A few times people came to join us, and sometimes they were infected. So then, we lost more when that happened, but no one wanted to be tough and turn people away or put down the sick ones. No one had the heart to do it.

I did, but who cared what I wanted; you know what I mean? We met up with a pilot, and he was like me. We didn’t want to be bitten and turned while we waited to starve. The pilot is there; that’s Pete.”

Sean sat on a box and motioned for them to sit if they wanted.  He told them the Reds were everywhere as were the new zeds, chasing people and attacking, and one night they were over-run, losing many of the women and children.

Pete saw enough and went running out to the runway, telling them if they wanted to survive, it was time to run like rabbits and stop worrying about everyone else.

He fired up the Learjet, and they got in, amazed that the pilot was able to get them off of the ground and into the air. Once up, it was the first time they dared any hope.

Then, reality came home, again.

Two were bitten and had to be put down after they were in the air, the men smashing heads in with whatever they had, fighting back. They stacked a total of three in the tail section.

When they tried to land, the Texarkana airport was in shambles, and they didn’t see a good landing strip. Then, they realized the Learjet was on fire. It was all too fast, and no one was properly prepared.

Pete put the Learjet down on the highway on top of cars, but it was a testament to his skill that anyone survived his crash landing. Metal twisted, and the Learjet burned, but a few ran out of the plane, rolling to put out the burning clothing and skin.

Some, who were engulfed in flames, screamed, as they burned with the plane, unable to be reached by the rest who burned their own hands trying to get to them. Some in the front section were killed immediately, but others got out, helping those trapped, even as a few flames licked at them.

“Some of us got out; some didn’t,” Sean said. “Then, we had a greeting party to deal with. It wasn’t enough we got out because we were right back in the frying pan with ‘em.

We came here and licked our wounds and found food and water. We’ve been like rats, hiding in here, staying quiet, hoping the rest of the world was getting back on track and would rescue us.”

Matt considered how they had gone different routes. These people hid and mostly stopped moving forward as they waited for help; his own group scratched and fought forward to rebuild, expecting no help whatsoever.

“We’ve been busy. We met the man who was probably responsible for the infection; let’s say he’s no longer alive,” Juan said.

“Do we know why he did this? What was the reason? Was there a purpose? Why did they bomb us? Who’s in charge?”

Matt nodded, knowing that he would have the same questions. “We got a lot of lies, but it looks as if he were creating a perfect species:  pretty much half- human and half-zombie.”

“That’s fairly sick. Why’d he want that?”

“Because he was the first. He wanted company?” John rolled his eyes.

“As I said, he’s no longer able to play mad scientist.

Red got way out of hand, and it went around the world; we all fell. The bombs were dropped in an effort to contain the infected, to stop the growing numbers of Zs in the cities and…well…it makes no sense to try to reason why anyone did this. It was FUBAR from the start,” Matt explained.

“As for who is in charge, it depends on whom you ask. I can assure you the leaders are no longer a skinhead group of cannibals and sadists or a group of hybrids; we have the numbers and the training, and we try to be in charge and rebuild a life.”

“Those things are in charge,” Sean scoffed.

“Some of us don’t like that idea,” Matt said.

“Okay,” Sean said, “here’s my woman, Emily.” He introduced a painfully thin woman with a belly large with pregnancy. She was tiny, dirty, and starving.

Juan immediately pulled some food from his pack to share with her. Eyes large, she mindlessly ate the food, curving her body against the wall as if someone might take it away from her.

“Joan and Terry,” Sean said. In places, Joan’s scalp was bare, melted from the fire, but long matted strands of blonde hair were in other spots.

One side of her face was burned so badly that her cheek and the side of her mouth were sunken in and drawn up. Parts of her hands were burned; several fingers were gone, just stubs, and burns ran up both arms.

Terry was also burned, his hands not much more than claws. It was hard to imagine the pain they endured with no medical help.

Joan knew what they were thinking. “Sean did what he could. He had to debride the tissue, which in our cases was done with an Exacto utility knife, some soap and water, and maybe steel wool. That is what our skin felt like anyway at times when he scrubbed us.

Then, it was a matter of keeping the wound clean and hydrated, taking whatever pain medication we could find, hoping just to die, but then, well, here we are.”

The rest shivered in compassion.

Sean shrugged, “Oh, I took a few first aid classes and guessed at the rest. They were good patients. And I didn’t use steel wool.”

“Good,” Jet said.

“He got Joan out before she burned, but they both suffered second-and third-degree burns. We did what we could; they lived which was better than some, but skin grafts are a thing of the past.  We had another four get out, but they died days or weeks later after being burned,” Sean explained.

“Sorry to hear that,” Matt told him.

“The conditions are partly responsible, not clean enough.”

Brad came forward to get food. “I was in the front. I have had seizures since the crash when I get over-stressed or try to run. But I’m okay. I can’t run now, so I don’t get to help hunt for food,” he said.

“We have fresh vegetables and fruit, and we have milk, eggs, and meat,” Jet said as he shared food. We grow it ourselves. Gasoline is failing, so we have horses, too.” He thought maybe telling about the food was torture, but he did want to give them something better to think about.

“Pete,” the next man introduced himself. He had lost one eye, and his face was scarred with cuts from the crash. No one bothered to ask him if Sean were the non-expert stitcher.

Sean pointed. “That’s Rob. No one else made it. Some went out in a group to find help…twice, but we never saw them again.” Rob nodded but didn’t say anything as he listened to the conversation. Once he heard there was no safe place and that this was no American military force that came to save them; he lost some of his interest.

“About a hundred thousand of those creatures are out there, moving in small hordes; they’re in the city, looking for people. We have fences and security.”

“Fences?” Terry shook his head.

“We have a mass.” A man hobbled down the stairs and joined them. “Bunch of them bastards; they followed you.”

“We followed your SOS,” Matt said, wondering why he always got the unappreciative ones. He handed the other woman, Leena, some food. “You need to get anything personal; we move in two minutes if you want to come to the compound. No one that is bitten will be admitted,” he automatically added that.

A series of hands slammed against the doorway they had entered.

“Sitrep?” Matt yelled.

“Fucking hell,” Carl yelled back in a minute. “Matt, we have a horde right on us; they had to have followed us. I’d say a hundred at the door and a few hundred on the way. No, make that a thousand.”

“Can we make the cars?”

Carl looked at the weakened people in the room. They might could, but these people have no chance, and they brought the Zs. “No, Plan B, Pak?”

“What’s out back?” Pak demanded. He came up with one Plan B, and now, they expected him to do it again?

“A little neighborhood lake,” Sean responded, “there are a boat and a barge that we kept, in case….”

“This is in case,” Matt said, “let’s move. Keep alert, and let us handle them unless they are on you.”

“I have your back.” Juan moved to point, with Matt. He was sorry he ever saw the SOS, sorry he reported it, and sorry he volunteered for this useless bunch. Then, he was sorry he thought that of the people.

The people grabbed a few things but left most of the meager possessions where they were; they didn’t amass much that needed to go and thought they would be rescued, not making a run for it. “This is the worst rescue I’ve ever seen,” Sean mumbled.

“Can you do better?” Teeg snapped, “Matt’s doing fine.”

Matt led them to the back. He knew Zs didn’t drown but wasn’t sure how they dealt with water except to float around in it and wait for a chance to bite. He shot a zombie as he ran, watching its brains splatter. Several more headed their way, and it took a lot more firepower to get the ones hurtling after them.

The people with them were slow from starvation and old injuries.

“Move.” Matt waited, firing his gun, along with the others as Steve, Leena, Pete, Sean, Emily, Carl, Pak, and Jet climbed into a boat that was used for some lazy fishing but could move faster if needed.

A very small boat was to the side and didn’t look waterproof, but they rushed Joan, Terry, and Teeg into it.

Teeg wanted to be on the barge, but he went with the couple to help. The barge was a nice one, and the rest scrambled onto it as Matt and Juan fired into the growing crowd, trying to get to them. They paused to push the boats off, almost getting over-run, then pushed the barge off, and clamored through water to jump up as the rest helped them.

“This is a young man’s game,” Juan groaned as he smiled at Matt.

Now, they were in three boats, slowly meandering away from the shore where a horde gathered, moaning.

To no one’s surprise, the zombies displayed no emotion as they waded out into the cool water, some sinking as they got in deep, and other floating while flailing and moaning at their food. None of the boats would start, so they used paddles and whatever they could find to stay together and drift away from the zombies that kept piling into the lake.

“Stink,” Emily said.

“Yep, they do stink,” Jet agreed.

“Timing, it’s all timing, and this time it sucked. Another time and this could’ve been easy and fine,” Alex stated. “I swear timing is everything.  When are you due, do you think?”

“Maybe a month.”

Alex smiled but cringed inside. Her child should have immunity, but his recent experience made him nervous around childbearing.

The number of creature wading into the water was growing, and they were bumping out deeper into the lake where some floated naturally, and some vanished into the water. Fish darted in to nip at them. Given enough time, the fish might finish them off.

“They’re still here,” Joan screamed, distracting everyone as she watched them vanish into the water, knowing that they were there but hidden from sight.

She stood, despite Terry grabbing for her, looking around the little boat. Knowing that the creatures were there was similar to knowing there was a monster and not being able to see it in the dark of a room. Again, Terry reached to grab her, but his lost fingers didn’t snag her clothing.

“Sit down,” Teeg ordered. He knew the worst was about to happen and tried to draw next to the barge, but so much was going on all at once that it was hard to think.

Teeg felt the boat shift and slide, and he half stood as he leaned, hoping for the best.  Juan reached for him and then rolled backwards with Teeg as he pulled him to safety.

“Come on, sit down, or get over here,” Teeg yelled at Terry and Joan as the boat righted itself, again.

Terry grabbed for Joan again, but she leaned away, causing the boat to dip and take on water. She stumbled and hit the water, just as they knew she would, but they were unable to prevent it. Several of her friends cried out.

They had to help them, but some already saw the next problem.  The lake narrowed for a bridge to run over it, so people on the walking trails could cross the water before the lake widened again.

Zombies were already at the edges, moaning, standing, and pushing one another off of the bridge. Matt and some of the others were taking shots when they had a clear view. Zombies would fall on top of them if they went underneath the bridge.

Joan screamed, flailing her arms for Terry to pull her up. Blood stained the water, a sudden red around her as zombies below her began to chew and snap at her legs in the shallow lake. Terry reached, trying to drag her upward, but she was slinging her arms too much for him to help.

As he leaned far down, trying to reach her, a hand snagged his hand so that his face bounced off of the metal side of the little boat, and he flipped into the lake. That he broke bones in his face and his nose and went dizzy hardly mattered with his situation.

Pak and Carl, already fearing they were over-loaded, moved the boat away from the pair in the water, feeling guilty. If Pak and Carl were grabbed in a panic, the entire boat might be flipped as well; they didn’t know the dynamics of the floating boat. If a zombie got in, it would be just as bad for them. Not cowards, they also were not foolish.

Matt saw the blood everywhere; he raised his gun, and Juan and he both fired. Carl added his help, and finally both people slipped below the surface. That was the only choice. Roses of blood bloomed all over the surface of the water, and both screamed with the horrific pain of being eaten alive.

“You shot them?” Emily was standing with Sean beside her. “You can’t just kill people.”

“Sit down,” Juan ordered with his gun still raised. “You know they were infected and suffering.”

“And if you don’t get that…since you’ve been here a while…if you’re bitten, you’re infected. Period. You wanna watch those folks suffer while they get chewed up?” Carl asked.

Both sat.

Juan knew that coming here was a mistake, and he wished he had never seen the SOS sign; it was too dangerous. He doubted they could get these people out and to safety and wasn’t even sure the veterans of combat would make it back. “We need a plan. What’s Plan C, Pak?”

“We can’t go under there; they’ll fall on us,” Pak said, looking at the bridge. “There are not many on the other side yet, see? They’ve blocked their own way.”

“Let’s head to that side and aim at the ones there and the ones on the bridge, so when they fall, they’ll made a natural blockade,” Matt agreed.

More came from the side and waded out into the water. If they didn’t get out fast and on the other side, there would be no chance. As it was, there was a slim hope to get out of this.

Steve, Leena, Pete, Sean, Carl, Pak, and Jet frantically paddled to the other side, but Emily just stared straight ahead, holding her belly and rocking with shock.

Jet and Carl turned to shoot the zombies who were near the side, with the hope that the rest would gather to the far side so they could skirt around back to the vehicles they left.

On foot, they were doomed.

Sean pushed Emily ahead of him, but she stalled in the mud of the bank, losing her balance as she stared at all the moaning corpses who reached for them.

The smell alone was too much, and she gagged uncontrollably. It looked impossible. When she jerked away from Sean, she sank into the mud and fell into the shallows. A piece of an arm washed up onto the mud, causing her to shriek again, making the zombies moan in a frenzy.

“Pick her up,” Carl demanded. Why he had to give the order was a mystery to him, but people didn’t always use common sense.

Sean waded out, tripped, and then screamed as a floater moved in like an alligator, sensing prey: grabbing and biting. He fought back even as two more floated close enough to grab his arm.

Within mere seconds, his elbow yanked loose, and he wailed in agony. Hit with Sean’s torn flesh, Emily leaped forward into the deeper water, instead of toward shore. The water was almost boiling as the zombies thrashed, feeding, and rolling around. They ripped into her body, and no one could stand to watch.

Jet took a step that way, but Carl let one of his strong hands fall on the younger man’s shoulder, refusing to allow it. “It’s done.”

Pak pointed. “Up that tree, break into the place, then out of the front and back to cars.” He led them. This was Plan D.

“Says the stereotypical Asian man,” Carl grinned, “Bruce Lee.”

Pak managed a weak grin and an obscene gesture.

Matt docked the barge on the mud, and they fired into the numbers, trying to cross the bridge. There were too many. The others they came for were not in great shape with improperly healed wounds and no experience; they slowed them down considerably. Matt and Juan kept grabbing at those who were slow and pulled them along faster.

What would Len do in this predicament? Len would try his damndest.

Pak was already up the tree along a sturdy limb and almost to the balcony, making it look easy. Carl boosted Leena and then Steve and Pete.

Teeg and Alex both took branches and began to help the rest climb; it was a fairly easy climb with many hand and foot holds along the way; the branch that leaned out toward the balcony was strong and almost level, so it was easy climbing. Pak held out a hand to yank Leena up next to him.

“Keep it moving, and keep steady. Don’t look down,” Alex said, “Pak is brilliant with this plan.”

Matt, Juan, Jet, Carl, and John kept a steady barrage of bullets aimed at the shamblers, but the group knew they would run out of ammo long before all of the Zs were put down.

“Need to rush this,” Matt yelled.

Alex yanked Steve with him to the balcony and broke into the upstairs of the apartment. Pete landed next and took his gun out to help Alex clear the little area. It was empty.

“Go,” Matt ordered Jet. Brad followed him. Then Rob.

Brad made a funny noise, half a hiss and half a groan, making Jet’s scalp prickle with fear that the man was bitten and was turning.

But he saw Brad rigid, grabbed for him, knowing Brad was having a seizure, something the man said he suffered with since the plane crashed. It was a really bad time for this.

Jet lost his balance and he, Rob, and Brad fell, hitting branches as they went. Jet felt skin peel as he fell.

They landed on top of John, a sight that would have been funny any other time.

That one pause was all it took for a mass to be right on top of them.

10

Mission Juan

Matt considered just stopping: laying his gun down and getting on the ground and laughing since this entire trip was like a comedy of errors. His team and the ones he was trying to save were in a heap while Zs lunged at them; he had yet to save any survivors.

John scrambled to his feet again, but Brad was still in the midst of the seizure, so it was difficult to bash the ones close to them. Juan moved between a pair of grabbing zombies to grab Jet, raise him up, and order him to climb, ignoring the zombie that crashed into his back. “Climb; just go.”

John pounded its head violently.

Carl yanked at Rob, but the man’s legs were already being chewed even as the man kicked and screamed. Blood coated the ground. Carl turned and batted one away from Juan and shot another one close enough that brains splattered all over Brad, lying on the ground. “Go,” he ordered John.

Brad was being devoured, and nothing could be done, not even taking a second for a killing shot to end the pain. Taking in a fresh breath, Rob screamed again, but his lower half was almost shredded to the bone. The cries of pain and misery made everyone nauseated.

Shooting Brad and Rob would stop their misery, but it would cause those feeding zombies to leave them and grab the rest.

John jumped up to grab a branch before he was bitten.  Matt scampered up the main tree trunk, looking for a place to hold on as zombies filled the patch of ground he once had been defending. Matt climbed faster to get out of the way; he and Carl both jumped to the balcony to shoot downwards. Juan kicked at several and climbed up last, shouting for John to hurry.

Pulling at his feet, two of the zombies tried to yank John back to the ground so they could feed. He kicked one off, but two more reached at him, taking its place. Juan settled on a branch above and reached for John to haul him up a few more feet to safety.

“I’m gonna pull you up,” Juan said. Matt was already coming back down to help pull John upward. They each had a hand as John screamed with pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Awe, no,” Juan whispered.

John’s grip on the men’s hands lessened. “Been a helluva ride,” he yelled, letting his head loll. Juan and Matt pulled again as John was almost pulled away from them. A zombie was halfway up John’s leg, chewing as he held on.

Carl leaned over the balcony and fired several times. “Let him go, boys.”

Matt let go first. Then John lost his grip, and Carl fired again at the ground until he nodded. “Come on up; it’s done.” They put their own men down to end the agony.

Juan and Matt climbed up. “Ya big cry baby.” Matt patted Teeg’s and Alex’s shoulders. He blinked his own wet eyes. “We almost made it.”

“It isn’t right, their dying like that, no dignity,” Teeg complained.

“Nope. Not a bit of dignity, but they did it so we could live, so let’s get out of this shit,” Matt said.

“Let’s get a quick breath and then see how to get outta here,” Juan suggested, going into the apartment and looking around. “We can go out the front through the window, shimmy down to the ground, and run to the cars.”

“Reminds me of when Len had everyone do this to get out of the school house,” Carl and Pak began tying and testing bed sheets to make a sling to lower people if they couldn’t climb. They were going to come out the front and hopefully sneak past the moaning horde, waiting for more food to attack on the other side of the building

“That’s what? Three down?  We can take them out fast before they call the rest.”

“We need to go.”

Pak, Teeg, and Alex slid down the sheet to the ground and battered the three as quietly as they could. Leena, Steve, and then Pete went down. Jet slid easily, and Carl made it look like a snap to do. Matt and Juan slid down last.

“This is okay; we can skirt around and head back on the other side, and then we should be at the parking lot. We’re gonna get out of here and back where we belong,” Pak said. “Just stay quiet, and watch all sides. We can do this.”

Pak took point with Carl now, watching for what was in front. A few times they were forced to slam their guns into zombie heads, trying to remain quiet.

They paused at the corner around the street. Several sat down. Pete sat, retying his shoe. Matt watched three dogs staring at them; all had gone feral; a pit bull, a Doberman, and a German shepherd growled as they approached the people. The dogs were hungry, mad, and scared and had forgotten friendships with humans over the past year since humans, in zombie forms, chased them to eat them.

“No sudden movements,” Matt warned.

That was a useless statement as Pete suddenly half stood and fell forward onto the edge of a storm drain in the street, catching himself with his hands but wailing loudly.

“Hey,” Carl said.

Pete slipped further into the concrete storm drain, too small for his fat body to go down. His face was surprised and confused; he was unsure what was happening to him. He yanked himself over to grip the top, hanging over the drain.

He kept crying out, attracting more zombies to come around the corner and take a look. Matt stared for a second, watching Pete in confusion. Pete raised one leg out of the drain at a ninety-degree angle to his body as he screamed in pain, and Matt saw that Pete’s leg from hip to foot was ripped to bits. Something in the drain was eating him alive.

Pete’s leg vanished inside, and he was yanked downward so hard that his head popped on the concrete. The upper part of the concrete raked up his shirt. Jet and Alex tried to pull him back out, but the next time, fat and flesh were raked off of Pete’s stomach, causing more of him to be able to fit into the drain. The next pull took the skin from his shoulders, and he landed, down with the hiding ghouls.

“Like that damned clown in the Stephen King book that hid in the drains,” Alex said, shivering as Pete‘s screams still echoed.

“Fucking Pennywise,” Juan said. “It wasn’t him; it was them bastards.”

“Go; go.”

Carl rounded the final corner and could see his big monster truck. Zombies shambled around all of their vehicles, and they couldn’t shoot for fear of blowing out a window, which they needed for protection.

Jet ran to the side and yelled at the ghouls, trying to get them to come his way and leave the trucks alone. “Come on; come on, deaders.”

Alex smashed at the ones he could reach. He and Carl climbed inside, and Carl began to drive backwards over a few that shambled too close while Leena ran to the other side to avoid the creatures. She watched for a chance to get into the truck when Carl stopped.

A growl was behind her. The pit bull advanced very close, the Doberman was no more than a meter from where she stood, and the German shepherd was slinking close.

Jet saw the dogs advancing and turned to shoot them, but Steve took that very second to try to get Leena, instead of letting the better-trained people handle the situation. In his monster truck, Carl never saw Steve and backed into him at forty miles an hour, knocking him down and rolling over him. When he saw the body, Carl groaned with frustration.

Jet caught the shepherd in the side as the dog leaped for Leena, and then he took a second and third shot to finish it off.

Zombies began to pack the area faster than the group could shoot.

Pak dove into the truck; he turned to lean down and help others climb in. The Doberman lunged at Leena, but no one could get a clear shot. Teeg hit the dog hard, but the pit attacked as well, going for her legs, and Teeg couldn’t fight them all. He struggled to hit the dogs, hoping someone would be there to help before he tired out.

Matt tried to help Steve who was unable to stand and was broken up by the impact of the truck, bleeding, and only partially conscious; zeds leaned in so that Matt had to move away to shoot at them. He shot the Doberman, giving Teeg a break.

The pit wasn’t as sure of himself and hauled ass down the road. Leena was bitten on her arms, hands, and legs and cried for help as she rolled on the ground, helplessly.

Teeg boosted her, and Pak dragged her into the truck. Everyone was in the truck, but Matt, Juan, and Jet who were still shooting, in an attempt to get them away from Steve.

Jet was trying to fire his gun while also trying to get Steve up; he had four on the ground that he was stomping even as they took quick bites at Steve.

Juan pushed Matt into one of the SUVs while he shot and killed the crawlers for Jet. He saw enough to know Steve was too injured and infected; he wasn’t going with them. Jet refused to give up, still fighting a lost cause. When Jet ignored Juan’s orders to give up, he hefted up the young man and threw him in a fireman’s carry as he did Kim.

“Put me freakin’ down, Juan.”

“You know better than to risk yourself like that. I swore to your mama you’d come back just fine,” Juan stopped and kicked away two more that lunged at him. “Get in,” Juan slammed the door and then got into the passenger seat.

“I got the compound on the radio.” Matt grinned as they drove to a safer spot to get their bearings. “Base Actual, This is Charlie team. Over.”

Juan smiled as Matt referred to his team.

“Charlie, we ask that you return to base at once. We have incoming, estimated at tens of thousands, ETA an hour or so. Thurman has some medical issues. What is your sitrep? Over.”

Matt tightened his jaw. “We have casualties, read incoming at tens of thousands. What can we do to help? Over.”

“Charlie, Alpha Actual asks you to come back to base at once so we can evaluate casualties. We will need your firepower. They look to be massing from your area, a small group of a thousand plus and then the rest right behind them. Get out of there. Over,” Benny said.

“Copy that, Base. Returning ASAP. Charlie out.”

The small section they were on was bare of zombies; Matt and the rest got out to exchange information and try to stop some of the bleeding for Leena, but she slipped into shock. Carl and Pak had her arms and legs bandaged and taped securely, unsure of how well they cleaned the wounds but doing what they could for her. None of them thought she stood much of a chance if the bleeding didn’t stop soon.

“Her arms were torn up, looks like to the bone, and her legs were bad.  She had a head wound…bleeding a lot…the only difference between the Zs getting her and the dogs getting her was that the dogs weren’t infected. Just hungry,” Pak said softly.

“Bad luck,” Matt said.

“No way they can hold against that many; the fence will go.”

“They’ll try,” Matt told Juan.

“It’s impossible, and I know it,” Jet said sadly.

“I have an idea, Carl. Could your big ole truck pull seven or eight small vehicles behind it with chains?” Juan asked.

“I think it could drag ten,” Carl said proudly.

“We have that dynamite and timers in the other car. Put whatever amount you guys think best, and set the times about a minute apart. Drive up the road into the middle of the Zs, and wait; then each piece of dynamite goes off and blasts maybe a hundred apart,” Juan said.

“Hang on; we will fill the cars with old discarded metal and bricks, and we will get more shrapnel,” Jet said, “Let’s do it.” He pointed to a shop that sold chains and tire rims and miscellaneous items. His face was finally regaining some color, and he wasn’t angry toward Juan anymore.

“We have to move fast. Watch for shamblers; fill the cars, Carl, you know TNT right?” Matt asked. “I mean as much as anyone can know it?”

“I know it fairly well. Juan can help me, and we’ll have this done in twenty or thirty minutes.”

They scattered, luckily in the clear for now as they moved quietly, bringing chains back and hooking them to cars already lined up. The others threw blocks, bricks, metal, and anything else into the cars that they saw lying around, skipping the truck that was full of zombies.

Carl said he would rig it at the back end. Carl was glad it was all so easy with the timers already there and ready to go; if they had had these in their packs, they might have gotten all the survivors as well as John out alive, but it was unstable stuff.

“We have C 4.” Jet brought it to Carl who showed Jet how to carefully set it up and get the timers ready. Jet wished he had time to learn more about this from Carl. Once, the Internet offered a wealth of learning opportunities, but now, Jet saw that there was so much more to learn from other people, but there was never a good time to study.

Jet was like a sponge, taking in every bit of what he was taught and remembering it. Jet was once considered a poor student; his teachers would be amazed that all it had taken for him to learn was patience and hands-on experience. Once the boy had an idea of a concept, he was fine and could relate it and form abstract connections.

“Sixty seconds?” Carl asked Juan “And ten of them? I think we have five packed and ready. Let’s do random timers on the seconds so if more come by after one blow, we can get as many or more.  I am putting together a bigger pay- load, anyway. Easily get a few thousand.” It was amazing to think they could take out so many at once.

“Minute apart, then let’s take out two thousand if we can.”

“Gotcha. Or three, a bunch anyway.” Carl worked on the plan. Juan went to see how Matt was doing with placing the explosives. He would miss his big truck, but it was going to do what it was supposed to do:  pull a heavy load for a good cause. He wasn’t sure exactly how Juan’s plan was to be pulled off, but he liked it so far.

“You in a gang, Juan?”

“Hmmm?” he asked.

“Your bandana tied around your calf like that: gang sign, isn’t it?” Jet asked, amused.

“Nah.”

Matt glanced at Juan and grinned at Jet’s remark and then hesitated. Juan’s boot and lower leg of his pants shown with fresh blood “Throw any extra in the cars; we want it to be a big boom. You remember how Hagan and Bryan threw that grenade and set off all of those gas cans?”

“I’ve added some gas cans in the cars, too.” Teeg grinned as he walked by.

“Wanna see the fireworks?”

Juan gave him a nod. He wiped his face as he poured sweat.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“So you know, I’m gonna make Carl let me drive his big truck; sorry, it’s not gonna make it, guess it’s going to truck heaven,” Juan said.

“Are you saying to drive it right into the middle of the zeds or in front of them? You don’t wanna get into the middle and then be trapped in the truck with those timers running,” Jet grinned.

“About a hundred yards in,” Juan said.

“How you gonna get out?” Jet asked. That made no sense at all. It would be deadly to try for that.

“Let me look at that leg; you hurt yourself?” Matt asked. He felt his stomach drop with worry.

“No, no need, I have it under control,” Juan said. Matt looked again, and the bandana was tied more as a tourniquet than anything else. Juan gave Matt a little nod and a half-smile. Matt took a deep breath and sighed.

Juan, ever calm, unclasped his white gold crucifix and put it on Jet’s neck. “Can you make sure your mama gets that from me?”

“Sure. Why can’t you give it to her; you’re scared you might not get out? We can get you out, Juan,” Jet promised. “Everyone is gonna be okay now that we have a plan.”

“When was it?” Matt asked.

Juan knew what Matt was asking even if Jet didn’t. “When I was getting Jet up the tree after he fell. It’s the greatest honor of my life that I make sure Beth’s son is safe.”

Jet looked from one to the next. Teeg stopped to listen and looked sad. “What is going on, Juan?” Jet demanded.

“I was bitten on the calf. The bandana isn’t my gang sign, Jet.”

Jet’s face contorted into pure rage and then fell into sadness, as he understood.

He hit Juan’s shoulder with every bit of strength he had. “You mother fucker, you are not bitten.” Juan took the punches until he could pull the seventeen-year-old against his chest in a big bear hug.

Alex already had tears streaming.

“It’s okay. What’s all this sadness? I’m going to take those cars into those bastards and blow up their ass. I’m going out a hero, and I won’t turn; I’ll just pass on. I’m taking out an ass load of them with me; it’s all good.”

“It isn’t good,” Jet openly cried, “I love you, Juan.”

“I love you, Jet. I love you all. It’s just my time. Look at what good terms I get to go out on? This is fantastic.”

Jet muttered.

“Now, Jet, you take care of your mama since she’s likely to take this hard. Be her rock, and tell her I did it because of my love for her and all you kids and to help in this battle. Alex, you stay with Beth and keep her going. I need you. Tell Beth I love her with all of my heart and soul, and give Katie and Hannah and the babies a kiss for me.”

“It isn’t fair,” Jet said.

“No, it sucks, but you go be the man I know you are, Jet,” Juan asked. “We all have our times, we know that. And you tell George I got my own terms. How fortunate is that? And you tell Kim to be a good father. I know he’ll be the best ever.”

Matt shook his hand soberly.

Alex, crying, hugged his friend, as did Teeg. Both had to walk away. Pak shook his hand, eyes full of tears.

Then Carl came over and took a deep breath. In one more second, they would abandon the plan and take Juan, despite his being infected, back to the compound and beg Doc for a miracle cure.  Only there wasn’t one, and Juan would turn, and one of his friends would shoot him. They were a split second from making that choice. Someone had to stop that from happening. “Guess my truck is done for; you send ‘em to hell, Juan, ya hear?”

Juan felt a slight wave of nausea; his calf was numb and no longer throbbing with pain. He knew he’d better hurry. He pulled something else from his pocket and handed it to Carl. “Would you get this to Kimball?”

Carl nodded. It was a thick gold band laced with deep green, flawless emeralds. “He’ll understand it.” He appreciated that Carl helped the situation.

“I hate to rush you, but, Juan, the timers are set and going,” Carl said. This was hard for Carl to say.

“Then, you get moving,” Juan said as he climbed into the monster truck. He pointed upward and said, “Father, give me courage. Take care of Beth, my Love.” He slammed the door.

Jet let Carl lead him away, too shocked to say anything else.

From the SUV, the other six watched as the big truck began to roll. The chain tightened, and then the car, in drive, started to roll, too, its insides full of rubble and gas cans. The incline helped, and the third rolled as well. Then, the fourth moved after Juan struggled a little. Finally, the fifth moved, and all were in a line behind the big truck, moving down the road as a lethal caravan. Matt drove on a side road so they could see Juan driving; he seemed to be singing.

Carl knew the tape that was playing and could read Juan’s lips. “Thunder rolls, and the lightning flashes….”

Outside the gate, the last of the work was finished, and everyone was headed inside to safety, but Matt parked and called to Conner, saying they would be along in a bit. Matt wanted to see this through to the end; they owed Juan that much.

Down the road, they could see the zombies headed their way, almost to the point that they would begin bottle necking as the survivors had planned. Juan passed that by, skirted to the side, and drove right into the incoming horde.

None could reach up to the windows where Juan sat, but they still stopped to claw at the truck. Most kept walking past, and Juan drove slowly, crushing only a few since he wanted to get into the thick of the horde before he was bogged down by the weight of the bodies.

Behind the gate, the people of Hopetown were about to move into their places, but they saw the big truck pulling the five cars behind it and were flummoxed as to what could be going on. Why would Carl be pulling cars, and why would he be going right into the middle of them where he couldn’t possibly get out?

The truck moved on until it was lost in a sea of moving, stinking corpses, hundreds on either side of the vehicles and between them. The weight was too much, and the truck could go no further.

“What’s he doing?” Kim asked. “What the hell kind of plan do they have going?”

“No idea. No one is answering the radio, either.” George was mad as a hornet. “I have no idea who came up with this stupid plan or how he thinks this will accomplish anything but getting Carl killed in that truck. Did Matt lose his mind?”

They watched for another full five minutes, perplexed by this. Conner was ready to open the gate, but the SUV didn’t move.

With no warning, the big truck exploded: shrapnel, bricks, tire rims, nails, bolts, screws, tools, car parts, cans, and other metal objects, as well as everything else they could find that had been loaded into the back, flew outward as other pieces went skyward. A gasoline can exploded too and fire rained, catching any zombies on fire that were still moving, and only a few remained intact after that blast. Was it a mistake? An accident? The destruction was massive.

In the SUV, Matt put his head against the steering wheel and fought waves of sadness. Jet cried openly.

Julia gasped, grabbing Beth’s hand. “Oh, Dios Madre.”

“Why?” George stammered. The bodies were everywhere, but more moved in to walk closer. Hundreds of zeds were on both sides, and another moaning hundred funneled in to stand close to the front of the car.

Again, without warning, the car flew upward, and everything inside launched outward, as gasoline exploded with the C4 in a terrible explosion, hurting everyone’s ears. Hundreds more went to the ground: torn to shreds, decapitated, and burned up, ruined by the concussion of the force expelled.

“Brilliant. I get why. But why?” George repeated. “What the hell made them do that?”

They waited expectantly as more filled the area, oblivious to the death around them, and then the third car exploded. It took longer for the fourth car to blow. Zombies shambled into places beside and around the car, drawn by the almost dead batteries that played music, enticing the ghouls to gather for food. They stood thirty deep, moaning and gnashing their teeth.

This was, by far, the biggest explosion yet, and it tore into the road, dropping everything into the crevasses and burning wildly as metal flew all over, destroying the zombies. People cheered, forgetting one of their own had sacrificed himself, but it was okay to cheer; it was a grand victory, no matter how bittersweet.

George didn’t cheer but wondered what the plan had been and was unable to forget the monster truck, exploding into shreds.

With the final explosion came mounds of partial bodies, twisted metal, bricks, and upended pavement, and enough of a mess was left so that when the next horde came through, as they would, they would fall a dozen times and have hell getting over the rubble.

Matt drove inside and parked.

Everyone was getting into position, but a few, Beth, Julia, Kim, Len, and George went to meet the team. The windows were tinted so no one knew who was in the SUV.  Matt stepped out first, and Julia let a hiss of breath escape her.

“Sitrep?” Len asked.

“We lost all nine survivors that we went in to rescue. They were out of Oklahoma City and crash-landed the Learjet on the highway. They were in bad shape. The Zs and some wild dogs got them. We lost one of ours, trying to escape. We lost one….”Matt choked up. “We lost one being the biggest hero I’ve ever had the honor to work with.”

Len stepped forward to pat Matt’s shoulder.

Matt took a deep breath but was emotionally over wrought. “No other injuries or bites. I have personally checked everyone, and we are ready to defend our home.”

“Okay, we’ll do a cursory check, Matt, okay? Bare with us; we have to,” Len said, rubbing his friend’s back in a show of kindness, but actually seeing if Matt were close to passing out from stress; the man was pale as snow and shaking violently.

Conner, Ivory Joe, and Bernie stepped forward to check him.

Matt gave Julia a small wave, his mouth quavering.

Len recognized the man’s hundred-yard stare; Matt’s eyes were haunted.

Pak got out next, eyes sad, head hanging down but already beginning to think of plans to kill more of the enemy. He needed to get his mind off of the sadness, or he would feel like a failure. He gave Len a half-wave.

“Where’s Alex?” Johnny called out, worried. No matter who was lost, it was painful. She felt knotted with worry as she looked for her friend.

He was next out and waved at his friends, but he also looked terribly sad. They could see he had been crying. Across the area, Kevin waved back at him, a guilty wave of relief covering him.

Kim reached to wrap an arm behind Beth, catching Julia’s eye. Beth had two family members on this team, and the odds weren’t good.

Teeg climbed out and spoke to Conner. They argued a little, not angry, but concerned; then, Matt, Pak, and Alex stepped back so Teeg could be checked by all of the gate-team men as fast as possible.

Conner nodded and whispered orders, and the rest nodded back at him. They ran hands and eyes over his legs carefully, looked at his hands and arms, scanned his head and face, and then went back over each area of his body again, quickly.

Matt patted Teeg’s back, understandingly. When he was clear, the other three men returned to being checked. “I gotta see my girl…. Open the damned gate.” Teeg had red, wet eyes.  Who was his girl?

But he ran right to Beth and grabbed her to hug her tightly. People, watching, let their jaws drop as they realized something bad was happening. Len and George grabbed chairs as fast as they could and had one under Beth because Teeg’s actions spoke volumes. That was why Teeg needed to be close to Beth.

Beth sat down as she was ordered, her face a mask of worry, and Teeg went to the ground to hold her knees with his face against her jeans, soaking the denim with his tears.

Kim shrugged, looking at Julia and George.

They heard the sitrep. Two were dead.

Jet climbed out next as Matt was sent out through the gate with a clean bill of health; he quickly went to bury his face in Julia’s neck. Jet was crying the hardest as he approached the checkpoint. As Carl got out last, Beth saw the sun twinkle on Juan’s crucifix that he never removed, but that Jet now wore. Jet was seventeen, two years younger than Matt, treated like man, but he looked up and wailed, “Mama.”

Beth was out of her chair, gently slipping by Teeg and running to the gate in seconds. “Let me in. No? Fuck the rules; let me in, now.”  Then at the second gate, she commanded Conner to open the lock. “I want my son. Now.”

“We are clear,” Alex told Conner and the men at the gate. It was a bad situation.

“Jet, Mama’s coming; open this lock,” she demanded, with Kim, Len, and George right behind her. Teeg sat in a chair now, next to Matt and Julia as they whispered to Julia, making her cry, too.

Ivory Joe and his team checked Jet as fast as they could, but he kept calling for Beth, his pleading heartbreaking to hear.

Conner opened the lock, and Beth ran inside, grabbing her oldest child into her arms, kissing his forehead, and brushing his hair back. “Are you okay, Baby? I’m here. Mama’s here.” Jet wept against her shirt, soaking her. She stood and rocked him, humming and making soothing noises. “Mama is here. I have you.”

“Mama, Juan….”

“Where is he, Honey? Tell Mama what happened.”

Jet cried harder. “He’s with God.”

Beth closed her eyes and tried to breathe so she didn’t faint. “Oh, nooooo, Oh, Jet, Honey….”

“He was bitten trying to save my life; then, he was in the big truck; he was a hero, Mama.” Beth cried with him, feeling everything pour out with her tears until she was empty. “He said to tell you he loves you, me, Hannah, Katie, and the babies, too. Why does it have to hurt so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“He saved me.”

“Come on; we can tell your sisters. You tell them the part about his being a hero, ok?” Beth led Jet to where others waited. She would fall apart later, but right now, she was being the strong mother Jet needed.

“Guess we’re all takin’ it pretty bad,” Carl said. “In a bit, I’ll be okay and ready to fight. Ain’t that right, Teeg? We’re gonna kill some more dead heads?”

“You got it, Brother.”

“Kim, Juan was feverish, and he didn’t have a lot of time left, so I hope you do understand. Juan said to give this to you and you’d understand. He said he wanted you to do whatever has to be done and he trusted you.” Carl handed over the emerald band.

“Thanks, Carl.”

Kim looked at the band that he slid onto the tip of a pinky.

“What did Juan want?” Len asked. George wiped his own eyes.

“He and I were kind of good naturedly arguing two weeks ago, and I said I hoped Beth would put back on the wedding rings Tink gave us.

Juan laughed at me and said ‘no’ because he had found Beth a perfect wedding band of emeralds, the color of her eyes. I popped off that she could wear mine on the left and wear his on the right hand as the almost-winner, and he said the same. It was good natured bantering,” Kim said as he shook his head sadly.

“It’s a damn shame to lose John and him. Good men,” George stated.

“Makes me sick,” Len added, “Beth almost passed out cold, but Jet needed her. She’s strong, but this is a difficult situation.”

“And now?” George asked Kim, “what did sending this to you mean?”

“I think he was giving me his blessings to be with Beth but asking if it might be okay if she wore this one on the right to remember he had loved her, too. He wanted to be a part of her memory. I think that’s what this meant, and he knew I would understand the message.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Kim had tears on his cheeks. “He would have done the same for me. His blessings, well, that’s why she loved him; she may never love me again; he was a good man. He saved my life; he saved Jet, amazing.”

“You better go get them ready; we have a battle although it’s turned a little: thanks to the bravery, unselfishness, and goodness of Juan. Go get your family moving, Kim.”

Kim went to speak to Beth, hugged the kids, and handed her the ring.  She slipped it onto her right hand, as he held her close to him while she cried. “I know you need to mourn, but we need you and Jet; come on, Beth, join the fight.”

Hannah and Katie, as well as some of the kids over six, were trained in archery, so with the quivers ready and under total supervision of a teacher, the young ones were allowed to stand a foot from the fence, aim, and shoot arrows. What was funny was that over half of the arrows went into an open mouth or ear or eye socket, which put the zombies down. Even the small ones were able to help. It seemed cruel to allow children to do that, but they were the warriors of the future.

Beth mounted her favorite horse so she could ride and watch.

“They are stupid,” Rae said, watching the zombies funneling into a high school football stadium, a half-mile from the gate.

“Why are they going in there?” Carl asked.

“You can’t hear it, but we have battery-operated CD players; they’re all playing tapes of Norman Pope and his nutty ramblings about God being an alien prophet.” Rev grinned. “They think people are in there so they’re going in for food.”

“For being such stupid creatures, it’s hard to believe they took over the world.”

“Nah. Most people are more stupid than the average zombie,” Rae said. “Unless distracted, the moaning ones in the front will attract more, and they will pack into the stadium.”

“Then what?” Carl asked.

“You didn’t think you had the only C4, did you?” Rev grinned.

Closer to the gate, the children were gathered with the non-fighters and settled in the basement for safety as the rest fought it out. Any that came towards the gate were picked off, larger groups were hit with grenades, and many zombies fell into deep trenches.

In twenty years, they wouldn’t have the big equipment to dig trenches or batteries to trick zombies. They wouldn’t always have ammunition for guns unless it was manufactured. In the future, wars would be fought in new ways.

All night and the next day, the fight continued, but the traps were so successful that tens of thousands of zombies were put down for good. Funneling and control were the keys. The stream of incoming shamblers stopped, and the rest of the horde turned, hive-like, to go back where they came from.

It was late the next day when George held a prayer for those they lost and for the bodies whose souls could now rest. Thurman died of heart problems in the night, and it was a time that everyone felt a loss. There would be days of cleanup, and times to mourn, and there would now be time to grow and rebuild.

11

Beth

I think we saw enough horror and heart ache that first year to last a dozen lifetimes. I said my children kept me going, but the world was also our child, and we couldn’t abandon that child to the monsters to rule.

The fire and explosives did a good job, but the mess left behind was horrible: the dead, rubble, and trash had to be cleaned up and scraped into a landfill where the remains of the corpses could rot and return to the earth. The corpses and body parts took forever to remove, but they had to be taken away for fear of disease.

Without trucks and equipment, we never could have cleaned up the area, much less built barriers.

Huge containers, truck trailers, and more rubble cut off sections so that any advancing hordes would be funneled into an area where they could be taken out. The remains of some of the buildings, moved by dump trucks, formed barriers to protect the compound.

The fencing and the security to the new apartment building went well, so the additional housing was quickly added. It was always about cleaning and clearing out.

New collections of survivors began to secure new spaces so that they could trade as communities, and on some of the land, we built more homes as the community grew with survivors. One of the barns was perfect for two huge families, and it was there I felt more at peace. We housed two thousand in the compound during that time.

That second spring and summer, we dried meat and grew enormous crops, so we knew how to survive the winters like generations past. Farmers came in to join us, and we acquired two veterinarians, another doctor, and two registered nurses. Our teens could now hope to have other careers other than just warriors, as they trained with the experts.

The solar panels did give us much more than our forbearers had, and we weren’t ready to give up hot showers and the ease we had known before. Not yet.

The schools flourished with practical knowledge and skills, taught alongside history and math. For the first time, our children were maximizing their potentials, learning far above their former counterparts had. History took on a new meaning: before the Zs and after the Zs. Future generations wouldn’t remember a world without the zombies and destruction or couldn’t imagine that men once flew to faraway places and talked, using a computer.

But that was later.

We buried our loved ones and went on.

With most of the zombies gone, we used wagons and horses to haul more supplies back when the fuel began to go bad; we always had a desire to collect the items from time before and use what we could, stripping the city like ants would strip a carcass.

Always people held guns and protected those who gathered items, but it was rare to find a group of zombies of more than two or three at a time, and most of those were closed off in places.

The horde moved around but didn’t return for us. It always felt as if we were on borrowed time, though; the zombies still owned most of the world.

I spent time with my children when I wasn’t on duty or working with the horses. Georgie and Stevie were not only pretty baby girls, but also were smart and charming, enjoying nothing as much as their play time with Lexie.

As they grew, Georgie was the one who had the dark, reddish brown hair, was fearless, and showed a deep inner strength. Stevie, my blonde, was funny, loyal to a fault, and the one who always devised the most brilliant plots.

Katie was Mother Earth as she grew: she was calm, deeply thoughtful, and loving of every animal that came around her. Hannah continued to be the brave one, headless of rules and full of fun, my sweetest child. Jet grew into a handsome man with a perfect balance of sensitivity and strength, never forgetting his own ideals.

At the end of June of that second year, I saw Kim wore his wedding ring that Tink gave to him for us; in July, I slipped mine back on my left hand. In the first of August, he moved back in with us as his family, and at the end of the month, he moved back into my room and bed. We never intended to be apart again.

Those first three years were like landing on a hostile, alien planet for us, and we learned everyday about new threats or found new issues to confront.

I had my family and my children, and I had Kim.

Jet, after his crying fit at the gate, became strong and fearless, always learning and working to be a better fighter. My Hannah became more clever and ruthless as a warrior; she came into her own as a deadly pawn in the war against the infection.

But, we were all just pawns, and the next ten years would test us as we lost loved ones and friends and defined who we were in the new world. We had hopes, and we fought to survive. Had we known what we would be up against in the next decade, I don’t think we would have tried so hard.

We just didn’t know that there could be worse.

12

Beth

Z Y 3

We had many bad days, and we had some good ones, too. This day was one of the bad ones.

One time, Len flopped into the seat, stuffing himself while he told everyone his news. He was on loan, with a few others, to a fledging community just inside the Louisiana border where they taught combat and farming to a group. They were going to grow cotton and weave it, so the next year or the one after, they would be able to trade textiles with other communities.

“Will they have enough food?” Mark asked.

“I think so. They’ve gotten a lot cleared out, and guess what we saw?”

“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” Mark asked.

“You’d never guess,” Len admitted, “some of the Zs are dying. I mean, again.”

“What?” I asked him.

“They are just stopping, dying off for good, and rotting away without brain damage. The doctor thinks maybe some have a, what did he call it? a shelf-life.

“They can’t evolve, and so they die out,” Mark said.

“But, they did have news that smaller Zs seemed to have been born somehow; they’re newer and faster, but still rare. Anyway, the folks are hopeful,” Len added.

I shivered. The thought of zombies breeding chilled me to the bone, and we  talked about it and saw signs for a long time.

“How many communities are involved?” I asked.

“Five,” Mark answered.

“By the way, is Misty preggers, again?” someone asked him.

Mark nodded, blushing. They had Zane, now eight, who never did any more mischief, magic, or tricks ever again and who was a precious young man; Lexie, who was three, like my girls.  Misty was just twenty, so we figured she might have another few to add to their clan.

Misty ran out of the meeting, giving Mark a dirty look as soon as she got word Lexie was in trouble, again. She blamed him for the little girl’s smart mouth and propensity for finding mischief, but we all knew it was her own doing.

“She pulls all the books off of the shelf, and then when corrected, she fusses,” Mark whispered.

“Mexican obscenities?” I asked.

“I’m teaching her a few with Jules’ help,” Mark said as he chuckled.

Tory’s dad, Charles, died of cancer, and Tory married my brother, Steve, so we are all family.

Carl married Maria, the most beautiful woman in the compound, and she ran a tight ship around their home; he always seemed very happy with her, and she gave him an anchor.

And me?

The love of my life, Kimball and I were rarely apart. Kim may have refused a title, but like Len, he was everywhere and helped with everything, he was the person others went to with questions and ideas, and he made things happen.

The past three years, I couldn’t have asked for a better husband than this man who makes me laugh and feel safe. I still wear the emeralds on my right hand in memory of the man who did so much for my family and me.  Juan is a treasured memory.

We have our children, the basics to survive, and our little creature comforts, and we have each other. That is what helped us survive the end of the world when so many perished; we always have had each other: our love and compassion.

Deaths are sorrowful, but we have seen the cycle of life with birth and death, and it is far, far better than the alternative of partial death and corpses ruling the land. Loss may be difficult, but it is cleaner than holding on to what is against nature.

When the world went to hell, I, like everyone else, made mistakes, I fought hard, I suffered losses, and I never claimed to be a saint, but I did what my heart told me, all along.

I don’t know what troubles we’ll face in the upcoming years or how long it will be before some communities fight with others and brothers turn on brothers. We’re only human. I hope for the best but know that life is difficult.

My beautiful, brilliant daughter, Hannah, will go out one day to search for whatever she is looking for. I’ll cry. She’s fifteen and will eventually be of age to find a young man, yet that could be catastrophic for us all, something we dread.

I fear that one day I’ll never see her again, either on this side or on the other.

Only four of us know the truth: Kim, Len, George, and I.   I think Julia suspects my secret, but she doesn’t ask.

I cursed Dr. Henry Diamond and his hybrid creatures. I killed some and in my hypocrisy, I befriended one in John Ponce. I, also, two years ago, with grim determination, used a scalpel stolen from my brother to remove all the traces of a number on my daughter’s neck.

Hannah was hybrid number 22.

She has been my secret for three years, and she’ll be set free on the earth to find what she was meant to be or to do. Whatever comes of this, I accept.

George has always said every person has the right to live or die on his own terms, that we are due respect for our choices. It may not be the same, but I think George understands my choice.

Something more to the story lies beneath, and it is very important. Understanding the full story explains my choices: I have chosen to keep her secret, to hide it, and to release her into the unsuspecting world.

And to let go of the monster I protected all of this time; that’s very simple.

It’s my terms.

-Fort Worth 2013

Copyright.

catt dahman

©, 2013 catt dahman

cattdahman@aol.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover, and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

“Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash

“Thunder Roll” by Garth Brooks

The characters, places, and events depicted are fictional and do not represent anyone living or dead. This is a work of fiction.

Z is for Zombie Order:

George’s Terms

Event Horizon

Shadow of Doubt

Devil’s Details

Rage

What Lies Beneath

Avenging Angel

End of the Road

Terms Mystique