Deadrise 2: Deadwar (15 page)

“Good. I do what I do for the good of us all. You know that don’t you?”

“I know.” Despite his arrogance, Jenkins was telling the truth. The decisions he had made were for the benefit of the Rainbow Lake community as a whole, but many of his methods were harsh, often brutal. But that was the world they lived in now. Harsh…Brutal…

“We had this discussion, Matt, before we even adopted the Council idea. We back each others plays.”

“I’ll speak with Susan and David when I get back tonight, then we’ll talk to the Council in the morning.”

“Thanks.” Jenkins said with a nod.

“What about those one hundred and fifty refugees? Where are we going to put them?" Matt steered the conversation to another topic.

“I’m leaving that up to the Council as well. I’m going to try and recruit a few; I might even draft any young men and teenaged boys. But after that, the Council can decide what to do with them. That should keep them happy.”

Fucking asshole!
Matt wanted to scream at him, but he just smiled and nodded instead.

“Can I talk with you a minute, privately?” Jenkins asked him.

“Sure.” Matt replied. They walked to an adjoining office and Jenkins closed the door behind them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jenkins asked him point blank.

“What do you mean?” Matt was thrown off guard by the question.

“Don’t try and bullshit me, Matt. I can see right through it. You were doing fine up until a couple weeks ago when you went to see the Doc for a follow-up exam.”

“How do you know what I was seeing the Doc for?” Matt asked, feigning outrage.

“I don’t. I just knew you went to see him. But that guilty look across your face tells me I hit the jackpot. So come on, out with it. What were you seeing the Doc for?” Jenkins hard eyes bore into him. Matt felt himself backed against the wall by his presence. Any defiance in him wilted away, and in a rush he told Jenkins everything. His heart condition, the medication and restrictions the Doc had placed him on. When he was finished he felt drained, and he could barely look Jenkins in the eye.

“But you’ve got to swear to me Jenkins, swear to me that you won’t tell Susan.”

“She’s your wife Matt.”

“I don’t want her to know right now. She’s just getting over the nightmares about her fathers death. With all of our responsibilities to the community, she needs to stay focused on that. She can’t be distracted worrying about me. I will tell her, when the time is right. It’s just not right now. Please, Jenkins, I’m begging you, like I begged the Doc, please don’t tell her.”

“If that’s the way you want it, you got it.” Matt and Jenkins shook hands, dissolving any tensions between them. “But you damn well better follow the Doc’s instructions. To the letter, just like he ordered.”

“Yes sir, General.” Matt snapped him a mock salute.

When they exited the office, Matt saw that Smitty Tucker had come into the War Room. The leather clad biker reminded Matt of a wild alley cat. He carried himself with a relaxed grace, yet seemed ready to pounce at the same time. And his eyes shone with a feral gleam, seeing everything as a predator sizing up its prey.

“General Jenkins, Councilman Robbins.” He nodded his head in respect to both of them before giving Jenkins his rapt attention. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Jenkins gaze was drawn to a small wooden box in Smitty’s hand. “What is that?”

“For you General…” Smitty held out the box, and Jenkins took it and opened it; inside were half a dozen large cigars. “Cuban…” Smitty said with pride.

Jenkins pulled one from the box and took a deep sniff. “I’ll be goddamned. Where did you find them?”

“The luxury suite in one of the hotels.”

“Were these all of them?” Jenkins sniffed it again before returning it to the box.

“Oh no. There’s quite a few more where those came from.”

“Thank you Smitty. And not just for the cigars. You and your crew have been a very valuable asset. And you’ve sacrificed as much as any of us.” Bear was dead and the Augiezombie was still out there somewhere on the loose.

“We all know the stakes every single time we go out. Don’t play if you can’t pay.” He and the General locked eyes before both broke into a smile.

“Since we seem to have everything somewhat under control here, I was hoping you would show me where that biplane was located.”

“It would be my pleasure, General…”

“She’s a goddamned beauty!” Jenkins exclaimed as he slowly walked around the biplane. Matt, Jenkins, Smitty, Cpl. Miller and Pvt. Summerhays all stood inside the hangar, its doors wide and sunlight filling the bay. Matt knew little of aircraft, so he decided to take Jenkins word for it. “Whoever owned her, he sure knew how to take care of her.” He ran his hands along the planes wings and frame. “I want to take her up!”

“Are you serious?” Matt asked.

“Deadly.” Jenkins said with a wicked smile, heading out to the Hummer they had come in to retrieve the twenty-five gallons of diesel fuel they had brought along. They all helped him, and after a few minutes he had poured the fuel into the planes tank and climbed into the cockpit.

“Don’t you need a key to start it?”

“Puh-lease!” Jenkins said and ducked his head under the cockpit dash. Matt looked to Smitty Tucker, who looked back with a barely contained smile that said
you poor naïve fool.

A minute later Jenkins came back into view. “Ok everybody, get outside and out of the way.” As Matt followed the others outside the hangar, he could hear the cough of the biplanes engine as well as the chop of its propeller as Jenkins attempted to start the biplane.

“I don’t know that it will start.” Matt said. “Who knows how long it has sat there.”

“The General knows what he’s doing.” Smitty replied. After a moment, he spoke to Matt. “Is there anything you or you wife need, Councilman?” he asked.

Matt found the question odd." What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. The both of you are so busy with the day-to-day operations of the community you must be running yourselves ragged. Do you need any kind of a pick me up?” Smitty was offering him drugs. Matt could only smile. He had heard Smitty and his crew were the ones to see for anything that Doc Reilly wouldn’t give you from the pharmacy, plus a whole lot more.

“We could use some weed.” Matt said quietly, hoping Cpl. Miller and Pvt. Summerhays wouldn’t overhear.

“I got you covered. I’m heading back to Rainbow Lake in the morning. Can you get by until then?” Smitty said it as if Matt and Susan were junkies, hurting for a fix.

“I think we can manage.” Matt said with a smile. “What do you want in trade?”

“Charge a member of the Council? My feelings are hurt. It is my pleasure to provide you with whatever you may need. Consider it an act of friendship.”

“Friendship… right.” The Freebooter was trying to grease his palm. What the hell? If he was going to help shoulder the responsibility for the entire community, he may as well enjoy the perks that went along with it. Hearing Jenkins hooting and hollering with joy assured him that he was surely enjoying his perks.

Inside the hangar, the biplanes engine coughed to life, fluctuating in speed before finding a steady rhythm. A few moments later Jenkins drove the plane out of the hangar onto the runway. He brought the plane to a halt and signaled Matt over.

“Get inside!” Jenkins called when Matt had come alongside the cockpit.

“What?”

“Get inside! I’ll fly you back to Rainbow Lake.”

“Is it safe?”

“Of course it’s safe. This baby’s in excellent condition! It hasn’t been in storage more than a few months.”

For a moment Matt almost refused, but then the spirit of adventure caught hold of him. “What the hell!” he cried with a smile and climbed into the passenger seat, located directly in front of the pilots seat. In the biplanes of old, that would have been the gunner seat, but this biplane had no mounted machine guns. Once Matt strapped himself in, he gave Jenkins the thumbs up signal. Jenkins in turn gave Cpl. Miller the signal to return to base then gave Smitty Tucker a big smile and thumbs up. Then without any hesitation, he started the biplane down the runway for a takeoff…

CHAPTER 18

Saturday August 25, 2001

Rainbow Lake, UT

12.30 PM

Patty leaned back from her terminal, reclining in her chair and closing her eyes. Her head was throbbing, and she had already taken four aspirin since waking this morning. She considered taking two more, but knew they would do no good. There was only one thing that would rid her of the headache, and it was too early for a drink of alcohol. For the past fifteen years Patty had been a functioning alcoholic; A White Russian for breakfast, a cocktail or two with lunch, a few beers after work and then a glass of wine with dinner. Her alcohol intake had been severely limited since the world fell apart, but she consumed enough to keep the DT’s at bay. But ever since being elected to the Council and helping lead the fight for humanity, she decided the cut back her alcohol intake even more, limiting herself to a just a drink or two with dinner. That drastic a reduction in consumption had brought on mild DT’s; nausea, aches and pains, cramps, but she had ridden most of it out. Now it was mostly the headaches that lingered, gripping like a vice every couple of days. But she had managed to remain disciplined, having only a drink or two with dinner, and even those were usually beer.

With a heavy sigh Patty looked back to her monitor, going over the various reports and graphs and projections that David had provided. The Rainbow Lake community had swelled in numbers, to three hundred and twenty seven people. Mountain View had an additional one hundred and thirty. Just over four hundred and fifty people, all of whom she felt responsible for. Nearly all of the cabins and estates around the Lake had been occupied, and the few that remained vacant were marked for future relocation. Several families had even moved back down into Kittewa, occupying three farmhouses. The escaped livestock was rounded up and returned to corrals. They were even planning a planting for next spring; Corn, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, squash and similar crop would all grow well here.

Contact had been made with a band of Mormon polygamist’s a couple miles back in the woods. Sheriff Busley, Lucas Casey, and several other locals had already known of their existence. They had proven friendly enough, if somewhat wary, choosing to remain in their mountain man community rather than integrate, which was probably for the best anyway. From these people Patty learned that there were several such communities spread through out the Wasatch and Uintah mountain ranges. They believed that God had delivered Judgment upon the world at the turn of the millennium, just as the Mormon faith had prophesized. The wicked had been punished, cast unto Satan, while the meek had inherited the earth. Soon, Jesus would return to show them the way to the Kingdom of Heaven.

On other fronts, The sack of Green River was well under way while Evanston and the smaller communities in between were nearly picked clean; just about everything of any practical use had been loaded up and taken back to Rainbow Lake for storage, or distribution among the community. Houses and businesses had been stripped bare while vehicles had been siphoned of gasoline, then loaded on large car carrier rigs and transported back and stored in large vacant fields in Kittewa. The refinery had been drained of every last drop of fuel then abandoned until someone with the knowledge and skill to operate it could be located. There was still plenty of crude to process, just nobody who knew how to go about doing it. General Jenkins was negotiating with Hill Air Force Base for skilled workers to come and keep the refinery operational. And after all that action, the Militia had only suffered one loss, a Private Olaf Lake. He’d been bitten by a zombie in Green River, and died two days later, leaving behind a wife and two young sons. Patty wondered what kind of guilt the General carried for the man’s death and his families suffering?

Jenkins. Aside from the DT’s, General Jenkins was her next biggest headache. He tolerated the Council, barely, and showed no respect for its authority. Most Council meeting consisted of the General telling the rest of them what their next move was, with little or no room for debate. Sure, he had let the Council handle the integration of the Green River refugees, but that was only after he had “drafted” a dozen young men into the Militia. Patty was appalled at such conscription. And then there were the negotiations with Hill Air Force Base. Patty and most of the other Council members were hesitant to make contact with Hill AFB. Who knew what their response would be? Even Matt seemed skeptical, and he was the one selling the idea to the Council while Jenkins secured Green River. The only one who seemed eager to contact them was Lucas Casey, but she had never been able to geed a read on the cagey old man.

Hill AFB had been contacted, of course, and surprisingly they had been open to negotiation. Jenkins and Lucas Casey had traveled to Hill via the Generals biplane, returning the next day with terms of a treaty. It turned out that Hill AFB, with a population of some five thousand, was in dire straits: Most of their fighter craft had been destroyed by Krylok spacecraft weeks ago, the once vast base, spanning hundreds of square miles, was now a tightly controlled zone barely a quarter that size, the rest a blasted out death land. Well-armed Sentinels led hordes of zombies into the controlled zone from all sides on a daily assault, completely surrounding them. Sickness, infection, low morale and dwindling supplies had generated an apathetic misery throughout the base. There were several suicides each day, and the Military command structure was resorting to Capital Punishment more and more just to maintain order.