District: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (46 page)

Eden Compound State Route 39

Cade awoke with a start to find the nightmare he had been
living since late July was the real deal. Bathed in the red glow of the cabin
lights, tinted visor retracted and eyes narrowed, Skipper was gripping his
shoulder and shaking him lightly.

The crew chief said nothing.

No words were necessary. Cade knew he was home. He felt it
in his gut. And with that knowledge came the realization that he was moments
from finding out if his world was indeed about to be turned upside down, or if
the precautionary measures Brook had taken the day before were just that and
nothing more.

Depressing a button on his Suunto to light the display, he
learned he’d been asleep for more than ten hours, through two aerial refuels
and the star show he’d been anticipating before reading the sobering SMS
message from Duncan. Two deaths were going to hit the little Eden community
hard. A third might just fracture them for good. News that Daymon and Heidi had
already pulled up stakes and moved on had come as a complete surprise. And
considering all of the tumult the group had experienced over the previous
twenty-four hours, taking in a new survivor was wholly inconceivable.

Feeling the Ghost Hawk decelerate and begin a wide, sweeping
turn, Cade peered out the window. Down below in the inky black flickered the
flames of a solitary campfire. It cast an eerie yellow-orange glow on the lone
figure seated beside it. On the side of the nearby Winnebago was a man-shaped
shadow, the outline of a hat that could only be a Stetson impossible to miss.

Turning his attention away from the inky void, Cade saw
Griff and Cross give him a long-distance fist bump from across the cabin. To
his right, Axe was wearing a big smile and flashing him a thumbs-up.

After reciprocating the gestures, Cade punched out of his
safety harness and slid forward on his seat, clutching his M4 and rucksack to
his chest.

“Next stop, Grayson Casa,” said Ari over the shipwide comms.
“Thanks for flying Night Stalker Airways.”

“I don’t want everyone waking up,” Cade said, all business.
“So I’ll need you to put down at the end of the airstrip as far away from the
Winnebago as possible.”

“We aim to please,” Ari said, flaring the helo and beginning
a slow descent to the moon-splashed clearing where the tall grass was bending
and whipping in the rotor wash.

“Until next time,” Haynes called from the left seat. “Stay
safe, Wyatt.”

Cade had no words. He honestly didn’t know if there would be
a next time. So, hoping Ari and Haynes would see it reflected in their small
cockpit mirrors, he flashed a thumbs-up and disconnected the coiled cord from
his personal comms pack.

The Ghost Hawk’s landing lights suddenly snapped on a dozen
feet from the ground and a blast of cold air tinged with kerosene infiltrated the
cabin when Skipper opened the port-side door.

The helo settled with barely a bounce and Cade was out the
door, taking with him a slap on the back from Skipper.

Cade didn’t look back when the turbines ratcheted from a low
growl to a high-pitched whine. He kept trudging toward the light at the far end
of the makeshift airstrip even as the harmonic punch hit his lungs and the bird
launched into the dark night sky, its landing lights stretching his shadow into
some kind of grotesque monster.

As the Ghost Hawk’s harmonic rotor sound dissipated to
nothingness, he heard a series of hollow thuds coming from the direction of the
RV. By the time he made it to where Duncan was sitting, shotgun resting across
his thighs, it was clear that the Ghost Hawk’s arrival and hasty departure had
gone unnoticed by everyone save the man who had quickly become his best friend.

Cade dropped his rucksack and M4 in a heap on the crushed
grass in the light of the fire. He dragged a camp chair around and sat so that
he was facing Duncan.

Duncan said nothing. Just stared straight across the fire at
him. On his face was a look conveying a thousand words, none of them good.

A strong wind gust made the tarps covering the Black Hawk
and Humvee crack and pop.

Suddenly the noise was back. Only this time it wasn’t
muffled by distance. Clearly it was coming from
inside
the Winnebago.

Ignoring the commotion, Cade flicked his gaze to the fifth
bottle of Jack Daniels on the ground by Duncan’s boots.

“It’s still sealed,” Duncan growled.

“You drinking again?”

“I’m still deciding,” he drawled.

Cade removed his helmet and tossed it along with the
attached NVGs onto his gear pile. Wispy fingers of steam rose from his head.

Duncan cleared his throat. Setting the shotgun beside his
chair, he asked, “Do you want me to do it?”

Cade was silent for a long while.

“If I do,” Duncan said, “I’ll only have to live with it for
another decade or so. You, on the other hand, have a solid three or four
decades ahead of you. If you can keep from getting bit, that is.”

Cade shook his head. “We made a pact, Brook and I. It’s my
duty.” Then the denial he’d just about broken through built up again. “What
makes you sure she’s gone?” he asked, voice wavering.

“Raven saw through the bullshit real quick,” answered
Duncan. “Around noon she found the door to the thing locked and went into a
tizzy.” He removed his Stetson. The fire reflecting off his glasses, he went
on. “Sasha calmed her down. Come supper time Raven took Brook a plate. Got her
to open the door. I saw them hug. Brook was starting to look like old Phillip
did when I found him. Then I watched your wife give your daughter an envelope
and hand over her little Glock.” He wiped a stray tear and buried his face in
his hands.

“How did Raven take it?”

Voice muffled because he was talking into his palms, Duncan
said, “She lost it right then and there.”

“Where is she now?”

“Glenda gave her a sedative. I’d guess she’s out like a
light in our room.”

“What kind of sedative?”

Looking up, Duncan fixed his red-rimmed eyes on Cade and said,
“I’ve no idea. Glenda’s the nurse.”

As Cade rose and took a few tentative steps in the direction
of the RV’s door, his shadow darkening the covered windows caused a new round
of slamming and banging to emanate from inside. Then a pale and twisted hand ruffled
the horizontal blinds, bending a number of them in the process.

Cade opened the outer door, mounted the single step and
fished the lock-pick gun from a pocket. After defeating the lock, he looked
back and saw Duncan hefting the Jack Daniels bottle, one hand on the long neck,
the other about to twist the cap.

“Better not,” Cade said, hot tears streaming down his face.
“Because we’re going to need you, Old Man.” At that he drew his Gerber and
crabbed through the door.

###

To be
continued in a new
Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse
novel in 2017

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