Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 9): Frayed (9 page)

Save for Brook, Seth, Heidi, Raven, and Sasha, the rest of
the Eden survivors were topside and enjoying the sun’s emergence.

Lev was in the process of hoisting a large black duffel bag
into the bed of Daymon’s Chevy pickup when Cade nosed the big Ford in next to
it. As Cade killed the engine, Daymon, sporting a nasty shiner, his stocking
cap pulled low, heaved his Stihl chainsaw into the Chevy’s bed. The moment Cade
stepped from the truck with Max shooting by him like a furry missile and nearly
causing him to fall, he was fielding a flurry of questions. The first of which
was Daymon inquiring as to how Cade knew for certain that the two vehicles on
the far side of the roadblock were going to start.

Holding a finger up to both Daymon and Lev, an act that
instantly stilled the verbal barrage, Cade clambered up onto the Ford’s left
rear tire. “Raven,” he said, stopping her as she passed behind him. He leaned
into the bed and, under the watchful gaze of Lev and Daymon, and with no
attempt on his part to conceal the items, handed Raven two powder-blue boxes
with no heft to them. “That’s all for your mom.”

Daymon looked to Lev and mouthed, “
Tampons
” and
cracked a smile.

Shooting the pair a sour look, Raven started to walk away.

“Wait a second,” Cade added. “There’s more.” He leaned back
in and there was the rustling of plastic and the sound of something small
rattling against hard plastic as he transferred some items from a garbage bag
to a smaller paper bag. He jumped to the ground and handed the bag to Raven.
“The medicine goes to Glenda.”

Arms full and with her rifle slung on her shoulder and
banging against her backside, Raven started off for the compound entrance.

“Tell your mom I’ll be there in a minute,” Cade called after
her. He pulled a navy blue exercise ball from another pocket. It was about the
size of a lemon and made with a rubber whose compound was just firm enough to
provide forceful feedback when squeezed and kneaded. Though it was intended to
be used by victims of stroke or paralysis for strengthening their hands and
forearm muscles, Cade figured it would keep Max busy for a while. He got the
plastic whip-like doo-dad from the truck and nestled the ball in the cup on one
end. He cocked his arm then flung it forward and watched the shepherd come from
out of nowhere to give chase. He handed the ingenious and nameless (to him)
invention to Wilson, then walked between the truck beds, around the Chevy’s
tailgate, dropped it down and planted his butt on it.

Exhaling, he regarded Daymon and Lev with a steely gaze.
“You two kiss and make up yet?”

Daymon grunted.

There was a whirring noise and scratching of paws and claws
on the ground as Max tore off after the hurled ball.

Lev tracked its path for a second then dropped his gaze and
said, “He’s the one who swung on me. I’m waiting.”

Like a little kid, Daymon mumbled something unintelligible
under his breath.

Lev shook his head.

Cade did the same. He cast his gaze at the ground beyond the
tailgate. “The price of greatness is responsibility,” he said. “Sir Winston
Churchill.”

Daymon waited until Cade looked his way then stared him
down. “Finished?” he asked, irritation evident in his tone.

With a sweep of the arm, Cade said, “You have the floor, my
friend.”

With no sorry to Lev, or thank you to Cade, nor millisecond
of hesitation, Daymon said, “I want to go to Huntsville.”

“Done,” said Cade, to looks of amazement from both men—Lev
more so than Daymon.

“That was easy,” Lev said, wagging his head.

“One condition—” Cade began.

Daymon arched a puffy black-and-blue eyebrow, then grimaced
from the pain.

“You have to bring Kindness,” he said. “I think
he
...
she
, whatever you call a machete, is going to see lots of action.”

Daymon smiled and rested his hand on the machete’s Day-Glo
green handle. “It’ll be just like cutting back a fire break. Only more
rewarding.”

Lev put his elbows on the edge of the truck bed. Looked Cade
in the eye and said, “Me too? And Jamie? Because we want to
get some
…
for Phillip, mainly.”

Right away, Cade nodded. “You can come. And Jamie too as
long as she brings her attitude and that war tomahawk of hers.”

“Done,” answered Lev, smiling.

“We’re going to need to bring Duncan,” Cade added.

A disembodied voice behind them said, “What’s that Old Man
good for … exercising the mutt?” Then a cackle filled the air and Duncan
materialized from the nearby tree line. “By the way, the inner fence is clear.
Not a single frozen rotter to be seen.”

“Sneaking up on us like that is likely to get you killed,”
said Daymon in a near whisper, his voice taking on a gravelly rasp.

Duncan let loose another burst of grating laughter. Wiping
away a stray tear, he said, “Son, if that’s your best Clint Eastwood, you
better go back to the drawing board. Cause you sounded more like Fred Sanford
than ol’ Dirty Harry. I bet somewhere the old boy is probably rolling over in
his grave.”

“He’s probably holed up in a mansion somewhere in L.A.,”
added Lev.

“Los Angeles is
toast
,” interjected Cade. “Load up.
I’ll round up the Kids and we’re Oscar Mike.”

From across the clearing, someone bellowed, “Cade Grayson …
I have got a bone to pick with you.” A thin band of gray clouds parked in front
of the low sun. Cade removed his Oakley’s and steeled himself against Glenda’s
fast approach. “In private,” she said, stopping a few yards short of the
testosterone-filled huddle.

Something in the older woman’s tone led Cade to believe that
if he didn’t capitulate and join her pronto, she’d march right over, take his
earlobe in a death grip, and drag him to a place more suitable for
interrogation.

“Go on,” drawled Duncan. “She don’t take no for an answer.”

Cade twirled his shades in his hand, thinking.

“I don’t like that broad,” Daymon whispered.

“I heard that,” Glenda said. Her hands went to her hips. “
Now
,
Mister Grayson.” She turned and walked a dozen feet toward the center of the
clearing.

Leaving the three men chuckling in his wake and stepping
clear of Wilson, who was winding up to chuck the ball again, Cade marched
across the snow and stopped a yard away from Glenda. “Yes?”

“No bone to pick. I just wanted your attention.”

“Well, you certainly got it.”

“Three things,” said Glenda. smiling at the admission. “If
you make it as far as my house on the hill, will you go inside and bring me
back some pictures of my boys? Maybe one of Louie, too. Duncan doesn’t have to
know.”

“Mums the word. And …?”

“There were survivors on a sailboat anchored in the east end
of the reservoir. I was keeping tabs on them through Louie’s old field glasses.
They didn’t look too good then—” Her shoulders rolled forward.

Remembering seeing the boat she was alluding to on the trip
out to Grand Junction, Cade said, “I know the one. I’ll make it a point to
check on them. And …?”

She began, “Don’t take this weather for granted. Here
today—”

“—Gone tomorrow,” Cade finished.

Glenda nodded. “Exactly,” she said, “and … you better bring
Duncan back to me … in one piece. He’s got to read his Fourth Step to me.”

“Fourth Step?”

“A.A.”

“Ah,” Cade said.

No,” shot Glenda, her brow furrowed. “A ... A. Alcoholics
Anonymous.”

Cade smiled and nodded dumbly. He asked, “How many days has
it been?”

“Twenty-one,” answered Glenda, beaming. “Not a detectable
drop. Doesn’t he look good?”

“He dropped some pounds. That’s for damn sure. Not quite to
fighting weight, though,” Cade said with a wink. “That’s three questions. Are
we done here?”

“The question part, yeah,” she said. “I wanted to thank you.
There’s some stuff in the bag Raven brought me that Heidi will benefit from. At
least a couple of things that will keep her out of the
booby hatch
and
sleeping topside in the Winnebago with her man.”

Liking the sound of that, Cade said, “Then I’ll be sure to
keep my eyes peeled for more.”

“You’re a good man, Cade Grayson. No matter what Brook
says.” She laughed at her joke then looked past Cade and blew Duncan a kiss.
Without another word to Cade, she about-faced and strode off toward the
compound.

Cade turned and slinked back to the huddle. “Is she gone?”

The men craned and looked past him and nodded in unison.

The clouds scudded away to the west, leaving the sun’s rays
lancing down with a vengeance.

Cade donned his Oakleys and pulled his hat down low. “Load
up the truck,” he said. “Food, water, and ammo. Someone grab the battery and
cables out of the F-650. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m driving,” Daymon stated. “It’s my truck.”

Cade said nothing.

Duncan stared hard at Glenda’s backside until she entered
the compound. The second she was gone from view, he said, “I like her comin’
and going.”

Shaking his head, Cade tossed his rucksack in the Chevy’s
bed and hustled off towards the compound. He passed Tran and Foley along the
way, the former clutching a handful of tools, the latter carrying the shroud
and all three of the shades from the quarry outbuildings, now minus the
gooseneck poles and light fixtures.

Cade nodded.

Tran reciprocated while Foley, displaying the fruits of his
labor, held the fixtures up in front of him and said, “Superintendent is on
it.”

Cade stepped inside the foyer, closed the plate door at his
back, and suddenly couldn’t see a thing. Pausing to let his eyes adjust to the
change in light seemed to have no discernable effect.

“Sunglasses,” said a voice from down the shadowy hall.

Cade said nothing. However, flashing a sheepish smile, he
removed the Oakleys and stuffed them in a pocket. He transited the Conex and
paused at the makeshift plywood security desk where he whispered
thank you
to Seth, who was grinning and staring at the flat panel monitor. Smile fading,
Cade reached past the man’s head and with one hand grabbed the thin black
satellite phone, its green missed call light still steadily pulsing. With the
other hand, he worked the charging cord loose and tucked it out of the way.

Seth looked up from the monitor. He flicked his eyes to the
phone and asked, “Aren’t you going to see what Nash wants?”

“Not right now.” Cade quickly stuffed the phone into his
pants pocket.

There was a long pause during which both men stared at the
monitor and watched Tran man the middle gate while Foley wheeled the white
Dodge Ram on through. Finally, Cade shifted his gaze from the monitor, met Seth’s
eyes, and whispered, “But maybe later.”

***

Topside at the motor pool, the six people joining Cade on
his impromptu excursion had already checked and rechecked their weapons and
stowed their full magazines in pouches affixed to their load-bearing MOLLE
gear.

Jamie was sitting on the open tailgate and methodically
running the gleaming blade on her black hatchet across an oiled whetstone, the
rhythmic rasp interrupted by Duncan and Daymon debating the merits of a machete
over a Gurkhas’ khukuri, with the older man, of course, extolling the value of
the latter primarily only to push Daymon’s buttons.

A few yards away, in the Black Hawk’s shadow, Taryn and
Wilson took turns throwing the ball for the thoroughly exhausted Australian
shepherd.

***

Roughly a hundred yards away and ten feet underground, in
the Grayson’s quarters, Cade set the overflowing garbage bags on the floor. He
propped his carbine by the door. He shed his pack and coat and put them on a
chair by the door. Greeting Brook with a kiss, he reached in a cargo pocket,
came out with the second stress ball and handed it to her. She nodded then gave
it a squeeze with her right hand and promptly deemed it “
perfect
”. Then,
looking like a magician performing an impromptu trick, Cade pulled the balled-up
elastic bands from his pant’s pocket, one at a time. Green, red, yellow, then
another green band, which was followed by a final red one.

“Where’s the rabbit?” asked Brook, the left side of her face
lighting up with a smile, the opposite showing a touch of paralysis.

“Daymon ate it.”

Raven’s head popped up. She put her book down and scooted to
the edge of her top bunk, eyes wide, jaw slack.

Seeing this, Cade said, “Joking. Daymon only eats squirrels.
But don’t tell him I told you so.”

Raven’s headlamp beam cast crazy shadows on the back wall as
she pantomimed zipping her lip before inching back to the center of her bunk.

“You break down and listen to the message from Nash yet?”

Cade shook his head side-to-side.

“I’m impressed. That’s got to be a record. What’s it been
... five days?”

“Seven. But who’s counting,” he said.

“How long you going to hold the need for adrenaline hostage,
Cade Grayson?”

“We’ll have to wait and see if my plan goes accordingly.”

“If it does?”

“Then it depends how you’re feeling about me heeding the
call.” He took a bottle from the chair by the bunk and squirted some liquid
from it onto his palm. Held it for her to see. “Vitamin E?”

She nodded. Turned away from him and slowly hiked her shirt
up in back.

“It’s looking better and better every day,” he said,
enthusiastically. “Is it feeling any different … still tight?”

“It’s tolerable. Doesn’t feel like a bear trap clamping down
on my skin today.”

He rubbed his hands together to warm the oil. Worked it into
the thick scar tissue near her spine where the crawler had rent a chunk of
flesh from her.

“Oh ... shit,
that
smarts!” she exclaimed, as he
worked the nutrients into the angry red nodule.

“No pain—” Brook began.

“No gain,” Raven finished, a soft blue glow now edging out
the gloom above her bunk.

“Limit your time on the computer,” said Cade. “You’ll ruin
your eyes.”

“With all that’s going on out there, Grayson,” Brook said,
hiking her shirt back down. “And that’s the nit you’re choosing to pick?”

Cade faced her and shook his head. He squirted a bead of oil
on his index finger and worked it into the pink scars peppering her face.
“Those bullet fragments sure did a number.”

“Last I checked I wasn’t trying out for the Miss America
Pageant. Besides ... better the fragments than the whole chunk of lead.”

“Roger that,” Cade replied, nodding. “And to think there’ll
never be another Miss—” Suddenly cutting off his thought, the radio in his
pocket hissed and in his familiar syrupy drawl Duncan was imploring him to
get
the lead out
.

“Gonna answer him, Dad?”

Cade shrugged and kissed Brook on the forehead. Then,
looking her in the eye and with a vertical finger pressed to his lips, he rose
up from the bunk, snuck over to the far side of Raven’s perch and grabbed the
dainty foot dangling over the edge—a move that elicited a shriek and burst of
laughter. He let go, poked his head above the bunk, and then blew her a kiss.
“See you in a while, Bird.”

“Dad,” she said.

“Yes?” he answered.

Raven said nothing. Instead, holding it by its nylon cord,
she dangled the canister containing the last dose of Omega antiserum near his
face.

He reached up and took it from her. Turned it over in his
hand once before rising and stepping up onto the bottom bunk. And though she
was recoiling away playfully, he gently grabbed her wrist, pulled her near and
coiled the cord into her open hand. Gazing into her eyes, he placed the
canister in her palm and closed her fingers one at a time. “It’s yours and only
yours.” He wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head, noting
to himself that she was sticking to her guns and no longer wearing her hair in
pigtails.
Too girly
, she had said the day before. And par for the course
lately, in solidarity with her mother, her brown locks were pulled up into a
high ponytail that stuck out back of her ball cap like a mare’s tail.

Saying nothing more lest he get all maudlin on his girls,
Cade traded the ball cap for a black knit item, scooped up his carbine and
coat, and ducked out the door.

“When should we expect you back?” Brook called after.

Poking his head back inside, he replied, “Before dark,
hopefully.”

She blew him a kiss and then he was gone, the heavy door
clanging audibly in his wake.

***

The sun was back behind the clouds when Cade exited the
compound, so the Oakleys remained in his pocket. Halfway across the clearing,
he saw that the truck bed was loaded down with more gear and people had already
taken their places inside. To his amazement, though Taryn was arguably their
most capable driver, she was sitting in the back seat between Wilson and
Duncan. Seeing this display of humility, given her young age, had Cade
marveling at how far she’d come since being plucked from the jaws of death on
that body-strewn runway in Grand Junction. How in just a few short weeks she’d
morphed from college student working a summer job as an airport barista to an
orphaned but capable member of a small group trying to survive hell unleashed
on humanity.

As Cade neared the truck, he saw through the back window
that Lev was riding
bitch
—as Cade’s fellow Delta operator Jorge Lopez
was fond of saying—and, curiously enough, Jamie had gotten her wish and was
riding
shotgun
, with her head leaning against the passenger window.

So, left with no other seating option, Cade threw his
carbine in the bed, snugged his hat low on his head, and climbed over the
closed tailgate.

Cade donned his glasses to ward off the slipstream to come,
cleared a space for himself amidst all of the gear, and cast a quick glance at
the side mirror, where he caught sight of Daymon flashing him a toothy grin.
Knowing full well based on past experience what was coming next, Cade clamped a
gloved hand firmly on the side of the box bed and worked his boots under
Daymon’s overstuffed Kelty backpack. And he was right in doing so, for a tick later
the engine revved and Daymon was reversing out into the clearing much faster
than necessary,
testing
the 4-wheel drive no doubt. Suddenly the truck
slewed and lurched to a stop—a move that quickly reorganized everything in the
bed, Cade included. Through the sliding back window Cade saw a two-way radio in
Duncan’s hands. Then the grizzled aviator craned back, met Cade’s gaze and
mouthed:
We’re waiting for Foley.

***

 A couple of minutes passed and then Cade detected the faint
sounds of the approaching vehicle. A handful of seconds after that the white
Dodge Ram burst from the narrow feeder road, looped around and parked in the
vacated spot. And as Daymon wheeled the Chevy towards the road, Cade watched
Tran and Foley exit the Dodge simultaneously. Then, before they were lost from
view, he caught sight of Foley flashing him a thumbs up.
Mission
accomplished
, thought Cade just as the heavens opened up anew and big fat
flakes filled the air all around him.

***

Less than a minute’s travel down the bumpy road, the truck
came to an abrupt stop and Cade hopped out and opened the middle gate. He stood
aside and let Daymon pull the truck through, then shut and locked the gate.
Instead of immediately climbing aboard the idling truck, he hustled over to the
tree with the security camera attached to it and inspected Foley’s handiwork.
He watched big flakes settle on the newly installed lampshade and promptly
slide from its steeply angled surface. Liking what he saw, he climbed back into
the bed for the short ride to the hidden gate.

Along the way, with the truck dancing to and fro about the
rutted gravel road, he stared up through the narrow gap in the trees at the
thinning band of blue demarking where the previous storm ended and the next
began. And as he did so, near his feet, Wilson’s Louisville Slugger was doing a
crazy dance on the truck’s bed. By his head someone’s pack was vibrating madly,
loose rounds in a side pocket jangling away. To his left, making a racket of
their own from impacting the metal bed was the spare battery and jumper cables.
Adding to the cacophony that suddenly reminded him of a Big Easy one-man-band
was a rattling chainsaw, fuel and oil for it, plus gas for the pair of SUVs
awaiting them on the other side—the latter of which was sloshing around in a
half dozen plastic cans.

In no time the truck came to a smooth, rolling stop and
there was silence. Cade hopped out and checked the main gate for Zs. Finding it
all clear, he swung it open and watched the truck roll through.