Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (41 page)

“Is
Jacob going to be okay?” asked Mary, anxiously.

Briana
was going to kill me. I just knew it.

“Left
arm was a graze,” said Dale.

My
jacket had been cut away, and the wound was stitched up, nice and neat.

“Shoulder
was clean through,” said Tara. “There’s a hole in his shoulder blade.”

“Is that
bad?” asked Mary.

It
certainly wasn’t good. There shouldn’t be a hole in my shoulder. Some body
parts are not supposed to be exposed to daylight. Could they see through me
now?

“It will
work again,” she replied.

“In a
month or two,” added Dale.

“Maybe
three,” finished Tara.

“I’ll
live?”

The
twins nodded, and I relaxed. Maybe Briana wouldn’t kill me after all.

Mary
gave me a hug, careful to avoid the injury. “I thought you were dead.”

“Not
dead. Hurting some.”

The pain
was little more than a dull ache. What had they given me?

“Don’t
get shot again.”

I looked
up at her dirty, tear streaked face.

“I mean
it Jacob.”

“Don’t
worry. I won’t. We should have put on our bullet proof vests.”

Did I
say that or was I thinking it?

“We were
in a hurry,” pointed out Mary, not about to let me blame myself for this.

Guess I
did say it.

“New
rule, we put the thingees on before shooting at the bad people.”

“You
can’t shoot a gun,” said Tara.

“Can’t
drive,” added Dale. “You’ll crash.”

That
hadn’t occurred to me. Crashing is bad.

“Am I
useless?”

“You are
not useless!”

“Don’t
scream Mary.” I closed my eyes, feeling woozy. “New plan. I love plans. They’re
important. You get to drive. I’ll navigate, after the world stops spinning. Oh,
I can still shoot a pistol. Only need one arm for that.”

“That
might work with zombies but not these people,” she replied. “I think we should
go home.”

“Can’t
go home yet. Nope, nope. We need to go to a ranch, regroup. I might need to
visit a doctor too.”

Mary
shook her head. “You’re all fixed, and Tara said no arteries were hit. We even
have lots and lots of antibiotics to keep it from getting infected.”

“That’s
good. Wouldn’t want to have it shrivel up and get amputated.”

“Jacob!”
Her voice was breaking. “Don’t say that!”

I
reached out, and Mary took my hand in hers.

“You
said I would be fine, and we all know that you are never, ever, never wrong. So
just ignore me.” I paused, feeling the blackness returning. “No more of
whatever narcotic you me either.”

Interlude – Briana
’s Story

Back to
Briana and everything that was happening at the castle. It’s important we cover
all that unfolded there while I was off waging war, getting shot, passing out
like a baby, having the twins sew me up again – excellent – and doing all I
could to ensure those I loved were kept safe. Her leadership remained intact
and unquestioned despite so many new arrivals or perhaps because of them.
Briana is very likable, not at all dictatorial or quirky like me, and she has
an uncanny ability to comfort others. In short, my sweetie is the type of
person those in distress turn to.

And we
have a pilot. Woo Hoo! Ronald, going by Ronnie, Simpson showed up with the mass
of refugees who’d gathered at the fire station, complete with his own
helicopter. It’s a little two-seater, but the contraption flew. That was the
important thing.

“You’re
going with Steph and ten others tomorrow. We’ve made a list of all the nearby
airports.”

“How far
off are they?”

“Most
are within an hour or two,” replied Briana. “We rarely go further than that. Bear
in mind that these areas haven’t been cleared of zombies. That’s why the group
is so big. You’ll probably have to kill a bunch before you can recover any
fuel. Steph’s in charge too. You just tell her what to take, and she’ll get it
loaded up and sent west to Wyoming.”

“We are
running low on gas for the birds,” he admitted. “It’s been near constant flying
the past few weeks, with as many in the air at a time as we can manage. Some of
the guys have even begun teaching others, if only so they can get the
occasional break. None have gone solo yet, but a few will be there soon.”

“That’s
a pretty good idea. Feel free to teach anyone here, if you want.” Briana was
cradling Asher in her arms. He was asleep, but as with most first time mothers,
she liked to keep him close. “That’s secondary to the fuel. I want to make good
on our bargain, but once we start sending the trucks, you can do whatever you
want, as long as you’re available to fly for us of course.”

“I was
told I’d be keeping an eye on this part of Nebraska and around the state line.
That still the case?”

“And
making the occasional run to the fire station if we need to get them news fast.
With the radios silent most the time that’s bound to happen.”

He
leaned back in his seat and scratched at his beard. Like the tangled mop on his
head, it was tinted a pale orange. The hair might have been red once, like
Steph’s, but he was going gray.

“You get
to use your radio though,” said Briana. “The security rules don’t apply when
warning us, so if you see any raiders heading our way, or anything else
dangerous, call it in.”

“I’ll
need a spotter, a second set of eyes when I’m up there. My last one went and
joined the defense forces that were being set up. And dropping off messages is
nothing. I rather do it than have teenagers riding all over the place on their
bikes. Better than fighting, I suppose.” He paused. “I know it’s better than
fighting, but they’re still too young. They shouldn’t be working, not like that.”

Briana
chuckled. “Everyone here works, including the children. It has to be that way
with about half our total population kids and the rest mostly being the very
old, pregnant women, mothers with newborns, and people who are sick or
handicapped in one way or another. We’re so hard up for labor that even four
and five years olds have to contribute. Most of what they do is turned into
games, like gathering sticks for the cooking fires with prizes awarded if they
find enough. Those who are fifteen or sixteen are outright considered adults.”

He made
a face.

“Don’t
like that, do you?”

“No, I
don’t.” Ronnie shook his head. “But, I can understand it. Same reason I haven’t
tried to stop the messengers. Got some nephews of my own doing that. I worry
about them.”

She
softened. “We’ll see if we can’t get them up here sometime soon. As messed up
as we are, it’s still better than Wyoming.”

“It is,
but I doubt you’d have much luck. They seem to think riding all over the state
is a big adventure, and both are absolutely positive nothing bad will happen to
them.”

“Let’s
pray it stays that way too.” Briana checked her list, shuffling several sheets
of paper. “So many things to do. I’m having trouble keeping track.”

“Maybe
you should get an assistant.”

She
snorted. “I was supposed to have one, but Mary ran off chasing my husband so
she could go to war. Barely fourteen years old.”

“The
girl on her way back?”

“Oh no.
No, no, no. Jacob, for a reason only he can grasp, decided to let her tag
along. I got that news from our guys at the fire station after they led all of
you here.” There was a hard glint in her green eyes. “They’ll be back
eventually, and I plan on letting both know exactly what I think. That’s for
later though. Now, unless you got something for me, go find Steph so the two of
you can get started.”

*
* *

The
influx also made it necessary to get people sorted and forwarded on to the
Black Hills as quickly as possible. That was Briana’s next order of business.
She started with the farmers, several large families who’d brought livestock
and equipment galore with them, including tractors and a combine. Briana wasn’t
certain how useful that last item would be, but perhaps it could be stashed in
Custer so they had it available for future use.

“How
many are we taking?” asked Marcus.

“Lots
and lots, and remind Lizzy to be nice. We both know how she gets.”

“I’ll do
that, for all the good it might do.” He was fingering his cowboy hat, running
thick fingers over the brim. “And what’s up with Mary? I’ve been hearing things.”

Briana
sighed. “You can tell Lizzy, after you’re at least halfway to the Black Hills,
that Mary went with Jacob. And no, she was not supposed to.”

“Oh.”

For a
moment, Marcus was at a loss for words.

“Mary,”
she continued, “followed him without ever dropping a hint as to what she was
planning. I did get a note.” Briana rolled her eyes. “It said Jacob needed her
help and she wasn’t going to let him down.”

Marcus
shrugged his shoulders. He’d lost weight recently, probably from all the heavy
lifting he’d been doing. “Maybe it’ll work into your strategy of keeping Jacob
safe, him traveling with the twins and Mary the way he always did.”

“I’m
blaming all of that crazy logic on the hormones.” Briana took a sip of her tea
and promptly made a face. “Uck. Nasty stuff.”

“Then
why drink it?”

Marcus
didn’t even look at his own cup. He was a coffee man, preferably with some
tequila mixed in, neither of which were readily available nowadays.

“Yvonne
swears it’s good for me. You know, I never liked the stuff, but it seems way
more horrible now.”

“Could
be stress related.”

“What’s
stress? There’s no stress here.”

“You’re
probably right on that count. You know, my sister was the same, except it was
soda she couldn’t stomach anymore, not after she had a baby. Drank it
constantly before that, and complained constantly about not being able to
after.”

“My
brother used to suck down soda all the time too. He would go through one or two
bottles, the big two liter ones, a day, by himself. Amazing he never got fat.
Stayed super skinny until…” Briana trailed off.

“You
know what happened to him?”

Marcus
finally stopped fiddling with his hat and set it on the table.

“My
mother turned.” The words were little more than a whisper.

He
nodded solemnly. “Better to know. Trust me on that. I have no idea what
happened to Lucy or her kids.”

“They
could be all right,” she suggested.

“I’ve
seen the reports too Briana. We’re the last of the big groups, us and Wyoming.
Salt Lake City is gone. All that’s left are small places here and there and the
people who made it to the islands. Lucy might be… I don’t think so. Anyway, I
take it Mary going off is the reason you had Steph grab Lizzy the moment we got
back? They were out the door before I even knew what was happening.”

“Yes,
and remember, no telling her until you are far away. I mean that. You get all
the stuff ready now, and when Steph brings her back, she gets tossed in the
truck and off you go. I went through a lot of trouble to make sure no one here
can tell Lizzy what happened, so don’t you go messing all that up.”

Marcus
let out a sigh of his own. “Totally unfair girl, having me do this. Lizzy is
going to be angry, and when I say angry I mean complete, absolute rage.”

“Yeah,”
remarked Briana, “but she will be in no position to go chasing after Mary. By
the time she can do something, Lizzy will have calmed down, a little, maybe.”

“What is
she doing with Steph, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Briana
reached for her tea a second time, paused, then forced herself to take another
large sip. “Healthy my ass,” she muttered. “Steph wanted to check out a shop –
we’d found a listing in a phone book – that carried animal traps. They
supposedly have cages, the modern, humane kind, but also listed old fashioned
types, including bear traps, as being on display or available for museums and
collectors.”

“Bear
traps. These the big things with giant metal teeth on them?”

“That’s
what I’m hoping. They’ll go with you, if we really do find any. You can use
them for real trapping or as a nasty surprise in case the raiders ever show
up.”

*
* *

The
following days passed quickly, with messengers making the trip between castle
and fire station on a regular basis, sometimes to the tune of three times a
day. Not all of this was necessary, but Briana was desperate for news.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much available, and all she learned was that the
four of us had gone toward the mountains to help keep watch over the roads.
While this lacked the detail she craved, Briana was relieved to know we were
far from the fighting.

Do you
recall that first attempt to push back the raiders, the one that failed? Well,
four hundred men and women were lost. Details are sketchy, but two points were
clear. First, the prophet was in Wyoming, identified by his long silver hair
and black leather pants and jacket, quite different from the denim the other
raiders wore. Second, there was no doubt that the battle was severely one
sided. As stated, just over four hundred, out of five hundred militia members,
were dead. In contrast, the raiders lost a hundred, maybe less.

The
fight occurred inside Rawlins with the ranchers attempting to retake the town –
the prophet had occupied it the night before. They went roaring in, and it
never occurred to anyone that their ability to push the enemy further and
further back might have been part of a plan. The militia was near the center of
town when carefully positioned machine guns opened up, followed by repeated
bursts from ad hoc flamethrowers, some of which had been hidden in storm
drains. The ranchers scattered of course, there not being anything else they
could do, but they were both outnumbered and out positioned. It turned into a
bloodbath.

This was
followed by a report that Sheriff Montans, thoroughly disgusted at the debacle
and swearing vengeance, had taken the second group into the field. He was smart
enough to stay out of Rawlins, setting up on roads north of the city. The
raiders tried to draw him in a few times by launching quick attacks and pulling
back, but he stayed put, allowing his men, many of them lifelong hunters, to
mow down the enemy.

However,
Montans wasn’t the only one capable of planning. Following a lull of several
hours, the prophet initiated a real attack. The first of three groups, and the
largest, came right up the highway with several trucks leading the way. All had
metal plating welded over the engines and windows, with more protecting the
tires, and they barreled straight for the defense force. Two were disabled –
the Ranching Collective has heavy weapons of its own – and a third lost
control, flipping onto its side. One slammed into the makeshift roadblock the
sheriff had installed, coming to a stop. The final three broke through,
scattering defenders. Then they exploded.

It was a
well orchestrated suicide attack, with the detonations most likely radio
controlled – this belief is based on the fact that they went boom
simultaneously – but that wasn’t the end. Behind the trucks came hundreds of
raiders on their motorcycles, moving into the gap and taking full advantage of
the chaos. The other two groups previously mentioned were flanking units,
having left Rawlins from the rear and looping around. The timing wasn’t
perfect, with the left side arriving nearly fifteen minutes late, but that
didn’t make much difference in the end.

There
were a couple of good points however. The Ranching Collective had their
helicopter, the one equipped with side mounted machine guns, in the air. The
damage it previously sustained had been repaired, and there was a full crew
aboard. They unloaded on the raiders, killing dozens, wounding more, and
slowing that central charge. With men falling and crashing their motorcycles,
those behind had to stop or veer around. It gave the sheriff time to act.