Fortunes & Failures - 03 (10 page)

“Excuse me?” Erin spoke up. Everybody looked at her, causing the girl to blush. She cleared her throat and continued. “What happened to South Dakota?”

Heads swiveled to Kevin. He slumped back on the table and dropped his head. That had been the plan when it had been he, Mike, Darrin, and Cary. They were going to head for the hills and survive the zombie apocalypse in style. There would be plenty of women who would be thankful and…

“Plans change.” Kevin turned his back on everybody.



“Jesus,” Peter said as the truck swerved to avoid a pair of zombies that lurched out from between a jumbled heap of at least three cars and a motorcycle that had been hit by a schoolbus and dragged along until the entire mess plowed into the garage of an expensive looking home.

“You might consider hitting the walking corpses,” Kevin managed to say even with the weight of all three girls squashing him into the doorframe. “That reinforced front bumper can take it, and it would be marginally better than hitting…say...I don’t know…a school bus!”

“I’d like to ride in this truck until the roads won’t allow it,” Shari added. “Getting in to a wreck would sorta shorten the time considerably.”

“Maybe we will be able to ride the whole way,” Erin offered brightly, oblivious to the thick sarcasm floating around the cramped cab. “A hundred miles by truck will take us a couple of hours. Walking would take like…forever.”

“We’ll go as long as we can today,” Kevin said, not wanting to burst her bubble. “But everybody needs to start keeping their eyes peeled for a place to spend the night.”

Peter slammed on the brakes throwing everybody forward. Heather and Shari threw their arms across Erin instinctively to protect the pregnant girl. They made eye contact and Shari allowed her lips to curl slightly in a smile of gratitude.

Everybody stared at the mess blocking the entirety of the road. Obviously the military had set up a defensive position here. The open field to the left that extended almost to the banks of the river had been plowed up and criss-crossed with trenches that were fronted by coils of razor wire and stacks of sand bags.

There were remnants of military tents, along with an assortment of vehicles—most showing signs of having been fire-bombed. A curious mix of civilians and soldiers lie dead in rows.

“What the hell?” Peter asked for everybody.

“Did the soldiers turn on each other…or did locals attack the outpost?” Shari asked. “I mean,” she turned to face Heather, “you live near here. What happened?”

“No idea,” Heather said with a shrug.

“You girls stay in the truck.” Kevin opened the passenger side door and climbed out. “And I don’t want to hear any arguments about this.” He held up a hand to silence any protests. “Peter and I will have a look around. It seems that we will be on foot from here on out. Let us make certain that we can pass through here without too much trouble.”

“I don’t see any zombies,” Heather said.

“And when Peter and I are certain that is the case, we’ll load up and get moving.”

“I had to open my big mouth.” Erin slumped forward in the cab, resting her arms on the dashboard. Everybody looked at her with varied expressions of puzzlement. “It’s like saying ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ or something like that.”

Peter shook his head and climbed out. As he and Kevin closed the doors, the sounds of crying and consolation drifted from the truck.

“That should keep them occupied while we search,” Kevin said with a wink.

Peter chuckled and unslung the rifle from his shoulder. Kevin drew a well-used hand axe, and the two walked cautiously up to the mostly-intact barrier. All of the dead bodies seemed to be just exactly that: dead.

“What do you think happened here?” Peter asked.

Kevin scanned the area as he stepped around a pile of sand bags. Brass casings littered the area, but there was no sign of a machinegun. Two long-since-dead soldiers lay slumped over amidst the debris. He turned one of the bodies over with the toe of his boot. The killing bullet had ripped a hole in the young man’s throat.

“I don’t have a clue.” Kevin knelt down to get a closer look. “These guys were shot. No signs of bites anywhere.” He got up and moved over to a civilian. “Same here. This guy was shot, but he wasn’t bitten or scratched by anything.”

Together, the two moved through the carnage. The vehicles had been hit by powerful ordinance. The lone tank looked to have taken several hits from RPGs. Soldiers and civilians lay dead, side by side, giving the indication that they were fighting together against a common enemy.

“Kevin, check this out,” Peter called. He was in the ragged remnants of a field tent. It looked like it had been a communications center. None of the equipment looked worth a damn due to weather and weapons. However, Peter held a black binder in his hands and was flipping through plastic-coated pages. Kevin stepped over the body of an older man with a silver eagle insignia pinned to the cap that was welded to his head by all the dried blood.

“Whatcha got?” Kevin asked.

“The answer to at least one prayer.” Peter handed the binder to the other man.

Kevin took it and began flipping through the pages. He quickly recognized the Google logo in the lower right hand corner. Peter reached over and flipped forward a couple of pages.

“My guess is that we are right there.”

“This is the entire area,” Kevin said as he slowly turned the pages. “And I bet we can figure that these heavy green markings indicate other outposts or roadblocks. This is almost a gold mine!”

“Almost?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like having the cheat book for a video game; we know where the treasure is,” Kevin paused. Almost on cue, a body lumbered towards them from behind the burned out wreckage of a HumVee. “But it doesn’t guarantee that you will beat the monster guarding it.”

Handing the binder back to Peter, he advanced on the undead soldier. This one had a bullet hole in its left cheek. Its head tilted back and to the right where the back of its neck had been blown out. He briefly wondered if the shooter had fallen victim to the ghoul after landing the headshot that proved to only be a near miss. With an overhand swing, he brought his axe down and buried it in the crown of the zombie’s skull.

“So,” Peter walked up as Kevin was wiping off the axe head on a flap of the soldier’s jacket, “I say we find a spot and take the time to really plot our course. This binder will help us to avoid any concentrations of potentially populated areas.”

“Let’s go tell the girls,” Kevin agreed.



Clearing the house proved not to be an issue. In one large bedroom, all of the occupants—according to the enormous family portrait hanging above the granite fireplace—were accounted for. Two teenaged boys and a young girl, no older than five, lay on the bed with an empty bottle of pills on the nightstand. Each had a large, plastic bag over their head. A woman was sitting in a nearby rocking chair in the same state; her hand was locked eternally on that of the little girl’s. Another body, presumably the father, was in the bathroom just off the master bedroom suite. He had stepped into the tub and blown his brains out with a double-barrel shotgun. Most of his head decorated the tiles from waist high all the way up to the ceiling.

“That’s The Basket.” Peter pointed to a building on the map. “If we stay with the river and cut through here, we come out in what looks like a lot of open farmland.”

“I had no idea that there were so many residential areas,” Kevin said shaking his head.

“Is that a problem?” Heather asked, trying to look over the shoulders of the two men as they sat huddled at the kitchen table.

“It could be.” Kevin glanced up at the girl. She had an intent, serious expression on her face and seemed genuinely interested in all the talks about logistics between the two men. This was the polar opposite of Erin and Shari. Once they’d arrived and made sure that the house was secure, both girls had found an empty bed and climbed in. With Erin it was understandable; her being so close to delivering a baby and all.

“I don’t understand,” Heather said, moving to the other side of the table where she could at least see, even if everything would be upside down.

“Each of the residences has to be considered a threat, potentially holding one or more zombies. Apartment complexes are even more dangerous,” Kevin explained. “The zombies out and about aren’t as scary. We know about them. Also, they’ve been on the move and have dispersed. The ones still inside could be a problem. We won’t know they are there until we actually see them.”

“Is that your nice way of saying that we aren’t ever going to catch a break?” Heather sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Yep.”

“So here,” Peter pointed to a spot on the glossy Google Earth picture causing Kevin and Heather to lean in, “is the possible military outpost closest to our current location.”

The two continued to mumble about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ as they poured over the maps. Heather got up and wandered into the kitchen. The lingering smell of rot hung in the air even though they’d opened the windows. She grabbed a can of tomato soup, a bowl, and a bottle of water. Sliding into the breakfast nook that jutted off the kitchen and had windows on all three sides that looked out into what had once been a beautifully landscaped back yard, she turned to the task of making lunch. Her eyes drifted to the wooded hills that bordered the back of the property.

As she poured the congealed soup mixture into the bowl and began smashing and stirring, her eyes kept catching hints of movement in the distant trees on the hill. At first she dismissed it as an over-active imagination and paranoia. Mix that in with fatigue and the shadows playing in the late afternoon sun, and it was a perfect combination.

Satisfied that she’d finally mixed the soup as well as could be hoped for, Heather scooped a lumpy mouthful and swallowed. Her eyes blinked twice, and this time she was certain that she’d seen movement. Somebody…or something…was in those woods.

The sounds of chairs scooting on the hardwood floor were followed by fast-approaching footsteps. Kevin and Peter both had pistols drawn and were looking around like they expected to be ambushed right there in the kitchen. Heather pointed to where she’d last seen movement.

“
I
am going out there to find out who our visitor is and what they intend,” Kevin stated. “And
you
are gonna stay here with Peter and cover me. Peter,” he looked over at the man, finished with any debate Heather might have had in mind, “I need you upstairs on a window with a view keeping me in sight with that 30.06 we have. The scope is sighted and ready for action so just keep me in your sights and adjust on this stranger when we get close.” The man nodded and headed for the stairs. “As for you,” he returned his attention to Heather, “I want you at the door with the .45. If they are meaning us harm and I have to run for it, you just start shooting. Aim for the body if you see anybody. These aren’t zombies so a headshot isn’t necessary. We’ve been aiming for the head for so long, you might try to do so on instinct. A body shot is all you need.”

“Okay,” Heather said with a sullen nod. She felt a new fear spike up inside her. She wasn’t sure if she could actually shoot a living, breathing person.

With that, Kevin headed out the door. He made his way across the overgrown back yard towards the fence and the tree line beyond. He made a big demonstration of holstering his weapon as he walked across the open ground between the house and the trees. Halfway there, he stopped.

After several nerve-wracking seconds, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows. It was dressed in head-to-toe camo, including a wide-brimmed bush hat equipped with a mesh camo veil. The figure held a shotgun—also camo—high above its head. Slowly and deliberately it slung the weapon over one shoulder and, with hands raised, began crossing the distance left to reach Kevin. At one point, the figure had to duck through some fencing and deliberately showed its back. About ten yards away, the figure stopped and pulled off the veiled hat. Kevin’s eyes widened just a bit.

“How many inside with you besides the one tracking me upstairs with the scoped rifle and the scared girl in the doorway?” the most beautiful girl Kevin believed he had ever seen—in person anyways—asked.

“Umm…” Kevin actually felt the saliva in his mouth dry up. He blinked his eyes, unable to look away or even attempt to disguise his staring. Her blonde hair hung in several pencil-thin braids and her blue eyes reminded him of a clear sky on a crisp autumn day. Her face was bronzed from the sun and, with absolutely no make-up, looked more radiant than even the most airbrushed centerfold model.