Surviving The Dead: Heartland Zombie Apocalypse Vol. 1 (16 page)

Crystal then turned to Percy, “Gunny do we have those soldiers here?”

Percy was filled with pride for this young woman that he had developed a father's affection for, “No Captain”.

“Then I suggest you all have some work to do”, Crystal concluded and quick stepped it out of the room.

Slightly over a week had passed since they tested the napalm.  Percy was drilling the patrols, fiercely.  No breach of discipline was tolerated.  Patrols leaders got double of whatever Percy dished out to their team.  Percy was an exceptional drill sergeant and every day saw them closer to a solid army.

They had taken more beef and Doc with the help of Lois, treated the blood they reserved with an anticoagulant.  A little testing with some of their captive dead and they had a dilution rate that increased the volume of attractant and still left it viable as a lure.  Almost more importantly Doc and Lois dreamed an ammonia based solvent that covered their tracks leaving the dead no trail to follow.

“Blade what do you say, fish or cut bait?”, Crystal asked the morning after the last lure test.

Blade looked at her a bit confused, “How's that?”

“Take your patrol into Lexington.  We need to know if the dead are still massed in the town or if they are spreading out.”, Crystal directed.

“We're going to do this thing then?”, Blade questioned.

“We are damn well going to try.”, Crystal answered.

“Then I say fish.  I fuckin hate this sittin around.”, Blade answered smiling broadly.

“Mick has a spot picked out for us to put up the trap.  He and I will take out a small crew tomorrow morning and check it out.  We'll follow you most of the way over.”, Crystal replied, wishing she could mirror his enthusiasm, but she had to maintain her command posturing.

The following morning Blade split his squad into two jeeps, one taking the lead and the other traveling behind the suburban.  In addition to Mick, Crystal had asked Matt Brenner.  Matt could handle himself if they got into trouble and knew enough engineering to help evaluate the trap site.  Amy and Percy were along as tactical advisers and somewhat of a surprise to them Crystal had asked the Brenner twins along. 

Their grandfather had seen to it that they were weapons and self-defense trained and they had enough children in the community that needed to be similarly trained.  Percy's drill sergeant methodology just wasn't going to cut it with the kids.  The long car ride will give them time to work on a regimen for preparing the youth to handle this world.

First Crystal had another question nagging at her, “Percy how do General's decide where to attack.”

Percy considered her question,“No simple answer.  You vant to disrupt the enemies supply lines, or prevent them from haffing a geographical advantage.  Vhy?”

Crystal shook her head, “I don't know that I have a simple answer to that.  Nebraska is pock marked with little towns and at this point our patrols have the skills to take on a number of the dead.  We could focus on the small towns, keep our group pretty safe and feel good about saving a handful of lives.”

Percy nodded, “Yes ve could do dat.”

Crystal's angry response surprised her, “Are you telling me that I should leave people cloistered in some FEMA shelter to be run over by the dead, starving to death or freeze this winter.”

Percy laughed, “See you know vhat to do.”

Hazel Thurman's life has certainly been full of changes.  She grew up an average white girl if a little bit nerdy.  She always had an interest in history and chose to do her graduates studies in anthropology.  Her thesis was on the cultural differences of the Native American tribes of Nebraska.  While doing her research and meeting with the peoples of the various tribes she met Clayton Thurman.

Clayton was a member of the Ne ma ha ha ki or more commonly known as the Sac and Fox Nation of Missouri in Kansas and Nebraska.  Clayton, some fifteen years older that Hazel, was an herbalist, what might be thought of as shaman or medicine man.  Clayton enjoyed sharing his culture and history of the nation, with this inquisitive young woman. 

Hazel was the one that got the relationship moving beyond friendship and by the time she completed her thesis the couple was married.  The couple moved to their home here north of Lexington, where Clay had found employment as a construction worker.  Clay continued as an herbalist as well and eventually was elected to join the Medawin.

It took several years for the couple to be joined by their daughter Grace.  While Hazel embraced her husbands culture and lifestyle, Grace almost from the beginning rallied against it.  It didn't help that Grace had to put up with taunts from classmates, calling her half-breed or Pocahontas.  By the time Grace was fifteen she was running with a rough crowd of mostly older kids and got into drinking and drugs.  The more Hazel and Clay tried to control Grace, the harder Grace fought against them.  When Grace was eighteen a young man came passing through on his way to California and when he went on his way Grace went with him.

A few years later Grace showed up at their door with a small child.  Grace was in terrible condition from years of drug abuse.  At least Grace cared enough about Krista to leave her with Hazel.  Clay and Hazel begged their daughter to stay with them too.  However, Grace was rushed away by her boyfriend when Clay refused to give her money.

Unlike her mother, Krista was very happy with her grandparents.  Even though Clay's health was failing he would spend hours with his granddaughter teaching her about the native plants and what they could do.  When Krista was eight Clay passed quietly in his sleep.  For the next couple of years Hazel continued to provide herbal remedies, for the people Clay had helped over the years.

Hazel had become accustomed to a steady stream of visitors to her remote homestead, until about six days ago and visitors mysteriously stopped.  Hazel was starting to become concerned by the change when a man pulled up to the house crying out for Hazel to help.

”Ma'am I've heard folks talking that you are some kind of witch or somethin.  I don't know about that, but my boy is real sick and I can't get to the hospital.  Can you try to help him please.”, the man pleaded.

Hazel looked at the man for a spell.  His panic gave him a wild look in his eyes and his clothes were spattered with blood.  He had some wounds on his arms that were poorly bandaged. 

Hazel responded kindly, “Friend try to relax, I will do what I can to help.  Now tell me what happened to your arms?”

“Like I said my boy is real sick and he bit at me.  Took a couple of good chunks out, but I'm okay.”, he replied a little to quickly for Hazel's liking.

Hazel considered her options, “Well let me take a look at your boy and we are going to have to make up a poultice for those bites, you don't want them to start festering on you.”

When Hazel looked into the back seat the man had the boy strapped up with duct tape, including binding his mouth shut.  Nothing looked right about the boy.  His skin was ashen in color as if all the blood had drained away.  His eyes were glassed over, but still followed her every movement.  Hazel reached in and felt for a pulse.  She placed her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat or breathing.

Hazel had always thought this was simply a legend nothing that she ever thought she would actually see, “Mister I got some bad news for you.  Your boy is dead and his body had been taken over by the spirit of a Wendigo.”

“A wenda what”, he asked.

“Come on inside we'll get you patched up and talk this through”, answered Hazel.

Hazel gave the man some tea that was both a mild sedative and antibiotic.  Once the tea had taken affect and the man was calmer she removed his bandages.  She had to stitch a couple of the bites, then liberally applied an antiseptic salve to all the wounds and put on clean bandages.  When she was done Hazel tried to explain the boys condition.

This was easier said than done.  Hazel had adopted many of the ways of her husbands culture and she loved living close to the land.  She enjoyed the science involved with learning the plants and their uses.  She was fascinated with the stories and legends, because those explained his culture.  Clay though had true faith in his spirituality.  When he called upon the spirit of an animal he truly believed in that.  Hazel could never make that leap of faith.  Today she was staring a legend in the face and science and practicality were going to be of little use.

“Mister this is what I know.  Your boy's skin color is ashen an indication that the blood has drained down to his extremities.  His eyes are glassed over and the pupils do not react to light.  I can not feel a pulse, hear him breathing or hear his heart beating.  I am convinced your son is dead.  I have no other explanation than an evil spirit, a wendigo, has taken over his body.  A wendigo exists by eating the flesh of the living.  To be honest I have never witnessed anything like this before, so if you want to call me a crazy old woman and take your boy and leave go ahead.  I do think I can give your boy peace though.”

The man stared at Hazel for a long time.  What she was saying sounded crazy to him, but so was duct taping your son to the back seat, “Ma'am I would thank you kindly if you are able to bring peace to my boy.”

Hazel hid her surprise at his response, “You understand I can not bring him back to life I just hope to chase out the evil spirit.”

The man nodded.

“You go say your goodbyes to your son. I need to get some things ready.”, Hazel advised.

Hazel went back to house and called upon Clay to guide her in this.  The legends gave her no clear answer as to how to expel a wendigo, nor was she convinced that was what she was dealing with.  She was convinced that the boy was dead and his father needed an explanation that would allow her to do what she felt needed to be done. 

Hazel laid a blanket on the ground and had the man place the boy on the blanket face down.  She instructed him to hold the boys head very still. 

“I'm going to use the spirit of the deer to chase out the wendigo.  On three I'm going to drive this antler spike in.  One” Hazel placed the antler tip at the base of the skull. “Two” Hazel did a practice strike with the hammer.  “Three”  Hazel drove the antler home and the boys struggles ceased.

They rolled the boy onto his back and wrapped the blanket around him.  Despite Hazel's protests to the contrary, the man gently placed his son's body in the backseat and left.  That was the last living person Hazel and Krista have seen for weeks, though they have seen Wendigo on several occasions.

Cassie was the first one to see the little girl.  Cassie was watching the signs, Souvenirs straight ahead, Indian Art 500 feet.  As they passed the small roadside store Cassie spied the young girl run from the house set back a ways from the store. “Hey stop I see somebody.”

Mick brought them to a halt and then backed up and entered the driveway so they could check on the girl.

“Graaannnd Maaa we've got company”, Krista called.

“Krista Thurman get your cat and get in the house now”, Hazel commanded.

“But Granny its people.  We haven't seen anybody in weeks”, Krista complained.

“What if they like to eat cats.  Now do what I say and get in here.”, Hazel cajoled the child.

As her granddaughter entered Hazel reached inside and grabbed the double barrel shotgun there.  When the suburban was in range she raised the shotgun to her shoulder and yelled, “That's about far enough.”

Keeping the shotgun leveled at them she continued, “Nobody make a move.  I'm loaded with buckshot and at this range I can get everyone in the cab.  One of you step out slow as molasses and let's parley.”

The group took in the woman in front of them.  Her skin was tanned and wrinkled from long hours out of doors.  Her gray hair was pulled back simply behind her head and tied with a leather strap.  She was dressed in homemade buckskin trousers and shirt.  Her age was hard to estimate, but her grip on the shot gun was firm and the barrels never wavered.

Percy stepped from the vehicle, “Good morning madam.  I am Master Gunnery Sergeant Percy Braun and ve are from a group of survivors east of here.  Ve are scouting the area around Lexington and saw the young girl and came to see if ve could offer any assistance.”