DEAD: Confrontation (11 page)

“C’mon!” he encouraged as he veered south.

They had been on a straight line due east towards the trees, but a small cluster of long-since-abandoned farming equipment was close enough that they could probably make it before wha
tever he might have seen coming their way managed to get into a position to see them again.

Reaching the first giant machine, Jody had them duck b
ehind one of the huge wheels that was almost taller than any of them. He wasn’t up to speed on his farm equipment and had no idea that he was hiding behind a grain harvester. The only thought that did flash in his mind was just how effective something like this might be if used to mow down zombies.

Seconds after they ducked behind the grain harvester,
six individuals on horseback galloped into view. Only one had a firearm visible, a rifle of some sort; the others all carried spears and—

“Are those nets?” Selina whispered in Jody’s ear.

“Did we just fall into
The Planet of the Apes
?” Danny sniffed.

“Shut up,”
Jody hissed. “Everybody do what I say, and do it now. Selina, you and Kat get under this big machine. There is a bunch of torn up vegetation on the ground, pull it over yourselves and don’t come out unless I tell you to…no matter what.”

Selina looked like she wanted to say something, but she flashed a few signs to Kat and the pair ducked under and began pulling all the wet, rotting stalks they could find to cover the
mselves.

“Danny, you get up on top of this thing and be ready to act as sniper. Don’t shoot unless I say.”

“What if you get wasted and can’t say anything?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to figure it out,” Jody said and stepped out from his hiding place with his hands in the air.

He began walking towards the riders who took a few seconds to notice him, but once they did, they fanned out and came his way at a quick but cautious trot. When the group was about fifty or so feet away, they pulled up at a signal from one of the riders who slowed his horse to a walk and continued to come towards Jody.

“Might want to keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” a gruff voice said from behind a neckerchief that reminded Jody of the old bandits in the classic Westerns.

“Then how about you stop where you are and we talk from a distance?” Jody called back.

“Think you got much room to be makin’ demands?” the mounted stranger laughed. “Way I see it, you and your three friends are in no condition to do anything but be grateful nobody has killed you up to this point.”

That made Jody’s heart flutter just a bit. He was hoping against all odds that whoever these people were, they hadn’t gotten that good of a look to know how many he was travelling with. Still, he had to try.

“So if you know I’m not alone, then I imagine you already know that my people are all watching, and I don’t think you have to work too hard to figure out who they are aiming their weapons at.” It wasn’t much of a play, but it was all Jody had for the moment.

“Yep, I reckon they all have me in their sights,” the man conceded. “Still, that means you folks been out and about long enough to lose your trust in strangers. Judging by the looks, I’d say that you was military.” It wasn’t a question. “Ain’t seen too many of you folks since about two weeks in, but I haven’t heard
anything
good when I does hear something.”

“Well, I can’t speak for anybody but myself.” Jody shrugged. “What I can say is that we aren’t looking for any tro
uble. We are simply passing through. If you have been watching, then you hopefully knew that.”

“Saw you all stop to admire our handiwork,” the man said.

Jody felt his body tense. This person was claiming outright to be responsible for the people they’d seen hanging from the overpass.

“Not something you see every day.”

“Maybe not before…a bit more common now.”

“Look, we are not looking to cause any trouble,” Jody said with a sigh. Truth be told, he would not have minded finding a spot close by and making camp, but if it got him and the others out
of this situation, he could walk all night.

“Looked like one of the folks you was travelling with was a youngster,” the man said loudly for some reason. “
You show us that young‘un, and we feel satisfied that ain’t nobody being hurt…and we’ll let you pass.”

Jody was at a loss. Could this simply be a trick to get him to reveal the location of the others? He was trying to make sense of things when one of the other riders—a
female voice—called out.

“We got walkers coming from
Sutton’s farm!”

“How many?” the stranger called over his shoulder.

“Ten or twelve,” another voice answered.

“Well then,” the man turned in the saddle, his voice soun
ding exasperated as if he were dealing with errant school children, “two or three of you go take care of it.”

Jody tried not to let the smile gain purchase on his lips. The man’s annoyance coupled with just how little regard he gave a dozen or so
zombies made him suddenly feel just a bit more at ease.

“So, what are we gonna do here, soldier?’ the man asked.

“Well, if you were trying to draw the
young’un
, as you referred to Kat, by shouting…it won’t work.”

“Why is that?”

“Kat’s deaf.”

The man seemed to consider that for a moment. Slowly, and making a display of keeping his hands away from the weapon holstered on his saddle, he reached up and pulled down the scarf that had concealed his face.

“Name’s George Rosamilia…folks just call me Jersey,” the man said with what Jody first took for a sneer. Then he realized that it was the shadows playing tricks. The man was sporting some serious scar tissue where it looked as if a bite had been taken out of his face just at the bottom and to the right of his nose.

“My name is Jody.”

“Does this mean we’re staying for a while?” Danny called from the Harvester.

***

Major Beers stood over the crumpled, bloody body at her feet. Her gaze came up and she made sure to look into the eyes of everybody close enough.

“Anybody else got something to say?”

Those close enough suddenly found something interesting in a zipper on their coat or a bit of snow on their boots. The ones further back who had heard more than saw what transpired made no attempt to edge closer.

Major Beers glared at the hundred and seven (acco
rding to the last muster report) men and women that were hers to wield unless somebody stepped up right now and did something to try and change that.

To be honest, she hadn’t been surprised in the least
when Bryce Gillis, her second-in-command had answered her challenge. Still, when two of the dredges that they had picked up in their travels made the move, she was taken aback for just a moment. Neither of those idiots were military. They were simply survivors who apparently considered themselves fit to lead.

She imagined that
had something to do with the whole Hollywood image of the apocalypse. It didn’t matter what the cause happened to be, there was always some meathead who ran the show. While she’d certainly met her share of women during her time in the Army who belonged behind a desk, she knew there were a fair share that could hold their own in any situation.

That included a fight.

That included a fight
to the death
.

Bryce had been predictable. He tried to use his size and o
bvious strength to his advantage. She was glad that he had never bothered with any of the lethal forms of martial arts such as
Krav Maga
or the Russian art of
Sambo
. She’d almost laughed when Bryce went for his knife. The fact that she had been able to disarm him and snap the weapon-wielding arm in two places before he hit the ground had drawn gasps. It had been the follow through when she had flattened his nose with a strike so hard that it had ruptured one eyeball when she heard the first retching and subsequent splash of vomit on the snow.

The two idiots who rushed out after Bryce’s death had act
ually been anti-climactic. One of them still had wisps of steam seeping from his nostrils indicating that he wasn’t dead yet. The other was lying on his stomach while his glassy eyes peered sightlessly at the sky above.

“So here is the way it will be, ladies and gentlemen,” Major Beers raised her voice loud enough to ensure that everybody heard. “The days of simply allowing deserters to run off in the night are over. I will be hand-selecting my own personal police force. Members of that force will have certain
privileges. But when somebody deserts, their task will be to return to me with the offender. That person will be thrown into the cage.”

The cage was something that she had never actually used up until now. It was exactly as named: a steel cage.
Now that she was certain that this would be where they made camp for the winter, it had been set up right in front of her tent. Currently there were three zombies inside the cage.

“If they fail, then one of them will take the place of the d
eserter. That will provide plenty of motivation for them to succeed. Any questions so far?”

“Excuse me, major?” a petite female stepped out of the group. She had short black hair that looked as if she kept it trimmed with her field knife (which she did) and a fading black eye. “What benefits could you offer that make it worth conside
ring?”

For the briefest of seconds, Major Beers struggled to keep her temper in check. She had let things go to the point where this was actually a question. For that, she had nobody to blame but herself. But tighter discipline was on its way. There were always those who
wanted
to be commanded. There were always the ones who would toss everything aside and follow blindly in the hopes that they would see some reward that was usually entirely self-serving. Or, she regarded the woman who had stepped out from the crowd to speak, if they thought they might find some degree of protection.

“For one, they will be permanently removed from any fo
raging details but will have the same privilege of first choice when there are luxuries. They will have an
attendant
of their choosing who will see to their needs, and they will always be served during the early chow with the watch and patrol units.” The major never broke eye contact with the female, so she noted a slight twitch of the eyebrow when the attendant perk was mentioned; that is why she already knew the next question before it was asked.

“And this attendant…what if the person selected is not e
xactly…willing? Your policy in the past—”

“Is suspended for this one instance.”

This was the one thing she would struggle with. That little bitch Willa could say what she wanted—hell, so could anybody else for that matter—but the new world was about survival. Her unit saw that sooner than most and adjusted accordingly. The only reason that she had fixated on the president’s daughter for so long was because she thought it might provide a good bargaining chip. Now? Now all she wanted to do was live…not simply survive.

With the people under her command, she could carve out a nice little niche and build her own nation. She’s always been a fan of ancient history. In particular, she held what some might have considered an unhealthy admiration for the Spartans. They were warriors. She could be the new incarnation of Lycurgus and bring her society to power. Perhaps, someday, her existence would be one of debate by
scholars who refused to believe that a single woman could achieve what she aspired just as Lycurgus was often attributed to mythology.

She was in command of over a hundred people. That would put her group head and shoulders above most of the pathetic pockets of survivors who had managed to last this long. And she would increase her numbers through simple conquest.

“Then consider me one of your first volunteers,” the woman said, snapping Major Wanda Beers out of her dreams of power and grandeur.

“And you do this of your own free will with the knowledge that failure to accomplish the tasks I set before you could result in your death?”

“I do,” the woman swore. “And I choose Bill Wilson as my…attendant.”

“And what is your name?”

“Suzi McFarlane.”

“Wait, she can’t do that!” a man’s voice hollered from a few rows back in the crowd.

“Actually…she can,” Major Beers shouted. “Somebody bring this man…Bill Wilson…bring him forward.”

Two rather large men that the major recognized as original members of her unit shouldered their way through the crowd dragging a large—in a pot-bellied trucker sort of way—man forward and threw him to the ground at the major’s feet.

“We both want in,” the men said in unison.

The major smiled down at the raw, red face of the man a
pparently known as Bill Wilson. She leaned closer to him and let all emotion slide off her face.