The Zombie Wars: The Enemy Within (White Flag Of The Dead Book 8) (6 page)

Hand in hand, Darnell and his daughter walked away from their home into uncertainty.  Darnell had a plan, and if everything went well, he’d have his daughter safe within a few weeks.

If not, well, he had a plan for that, too.

Springfield, MO

“Raise your hand if you like Missouri,” Tommy said out loud to no one in particular.

“See? No one likes it here,” Duncan said.

“You didn’t even bother to see if anyone raised their hands,” I complained.

“I didn’t have to.  This place is the pits. Trees, dirt roads, and God alone knowing what might be living in those homes we passed.  How hard did the moron who called these tracks of dirt ‘roads’ hit his head before thinking it was a good idea?” Tommy said petulantly.  “Anyone? What a mess.”

“Not being one to point out the obvious,” I said, daring Duncan to contradict me with an evil glare in his direction, “but weren’t you the one with the map who declared this the best, most direct route through the state?”

“I will take partial blame for that, yes,” Tommy said, steering around another fallen tree.  “But I think another part of the blame lies with the man who was born here who chose to fall asleep when I was asking for directions!”

Three pairs of eyes descended upon Charlie’s bulk as he dozed in the other captain’s chair of the van we were using to scout ahead of the army.  It was a wonder he didn’t awake screaming from the scorch marks our eyes were trying to burn into him. To be charitable, he had been up all night. A zombie child had made it through our picket lines, and after the securing of people in their homes, Charlie went hunting.  In the morning he finally came out of the weeds dragging a dead zombie.  So while I could curse him for his directions, I wasn’t going to wake him up to chastise him for it.

We’d cleared out Jefferson City and Columbia a week ago, and I had sent half of the remaining army to follow Interstate 44 and work on clearing the towns along that route.  The way we worked it, the army spread out after a major offensive, casting themselves in a wide but travelling net thrown in the same direction.  The goal was to clear out as much real estate as possible. One hundred four-man teams searched out every farmhouse and small towns as they made their way to a single goal:  kill every zombie they find. For our part, we led a five hundred man team straight toward the objective to scout it out and see what resources we needed.  We hit the bigger towns as well, which was why we were headed to Springfield. We’d then swing the entire army north to Kansas City and see what we could kill there.

Along the way, we picked up and lost parts of our army.  It was the way I had wanted it when we started this campaign.  I wanted to clear out the dead and replace them with living people to bring back the country as much as possible.  If we came across a nice town that looked like it might have weathered the storm fairly well, some people elected to stay behind and rebuild.  They knew they were on their own, but I wasn’t too worried.  Everywhere we went we left seasoned fighters that could stop an outbreak before it started. The people we picked up were survivors and fighters, usually looking to contribute to the new world we were building, but sometimes they were just looking for a change of scenery.

“Why up north?’”

“What?  Did you say something?” I looked back from watching the forty millionth tree go by to refocus on something that was being said in my direction.

Duncan shook his head.  “Why, yes, John, I did.  Please pay attention next time.” Duncan really played up the sarcasm, and it took a great deal of self-control not to kick the back of his chair.

“I’d listen more if you were more interesting,” I said, trying to match his sarcasm.  I must have succeeded, because Tommy chuckled.

“Anyway. What I said was why did you send nearly a quarter of our army north when winter is nearly upon us?  We’re heading south, and the zombies won’t be frozen until much later,” Duncan asked.

“Good question,” I said. “It’s a matter of timing.  I am hoping that because the winter is already going on heavy up there, they can move much more quickly clearing out the zombies.  The idea is to have them go through Minnesota, clear the Dakotas, and be through Montana before spring.  By the time the snows are melting, they should be heading south. If all goes well, we should be moving up from the southwest at that time and meet them in the middle for the push across the middle states on our way back home.”

Duncan looked back at me, and even Tommy took a quick look back. 

“What?” I asked.

“I dunno, John.  That’s a hell of a lot of planning. Not exactly your strong suit. Wow!” Duncan said, lurching forward.

That time I did kick his seat.

“Hmm? Are we there yet?” Charlie murmured from his chair.

Tommy chimed in from the front.  “Not yet.  You just missed Climax Springs, which I’m sad to say wasn’t, and we are having a hard time keeping the van on a road that refuses to stay a proper road.”

Charlie took a look outside. “It will become road again on the other side of the creek.  Keep going until you hit Macks Creek. Wake me then.” With that, Charlie was out again.

I shook my head and looked back out the window.  The trees were stripped bare of leaves, getting ready for the winter. The pine trees were green as always, and that kind of threw the whole picture off.  I knew the southern states that made up the border between the north and the true south didn’t get as much snow as the northern states did, but they got cold, and ice storms were frequent. Of course, we didn’t have weathermen anymore.  Nowadays weather forecasting consisted of looking out the window. Remarkably, we were right more often than the old weathermen seemed to be.

We left Charlie sleeping as we passed through Macks Creek and didn’t bother him as we made it through Tunas and Buffalo. Both towns were very much alive, and we had good conversations with both of them.  This just confirmed what I had always suspected; small town America was much better suited to survive a zombie apocalypse than any major city.

Tommy eased up when we reached 65, and it was pretty smooth going to Fair Grove.  Charlie woke up just as we reached the outskirts of the town.

“This isn’t Macks Creek,” he said, rubbing his eyes and looking around.

“Nope, we made it all the way to Fair Grove,” Duncan said, looking at his map. “We figured you could use the sleep.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I would have liked to have been awakened when we reached Macks Creek,” Charlie said.

“Not to be a pain, but why?” Duncan asked.  “The towns all look alike around here.”

“My first wife and daughter are buried there. I would have liked to have paid my respects,” Charlie said quietly.

“Aw, hell, Charlie, I’m sorry,” Duncan said.  “We can stop by on the way back if that would work.” Duncan sounded genuinely sorry.

Tommy nodded. “Not a problem at all, bro. I’m used to the roads; we’ll get back there in no time.  You can have a nice long visit.”

Charlie looked sad, but grateful. “Thanks, guys, it would mean a lot to me.”

We got out of the van and stretched our legs. We were hoping Fair Grove would be like the last two towns, and if we were stupidly lucky, Springfield would have a decent sized population that we might be able to get some recruits from. I didn’t have high hopes for the last, but these days you never knew. 

As I got out of the van, a cold wind blew right in my face.  It reminded me we weren’t all that far south, but if we could get cold without snow for a while, then we could make some serious progress. We might even be able to tackle Kansas City head on and just go on a slow zombie killing spree.

Fair Grove was an interesting, sprawling community.  It spread out in every direction, but it wasn’t heavily populated. Off in the distance I could see a house here, a farm there, a business over there.  Tommy had parked us at a bank, and there was a small strip mall next to us, but two hundred yards away was a Dollar General sitting by itself.

After looking around, I said we needed to find someone to talk to, and we’d wear our legs off trying to find someone within a mile of where we were.  I didn’t think anyone was dead here, but they were just far apart.

As we walked back to the van, I hung back with Charlie until Tommy and Duncan got back in the vehicle.  When they were out of earshot, I whispered at Charlie.

“When are you going to tell them that your first wife and child actually died in Springfield, Illinois?”

Charlie shrugged. “Not sure.  But I think after all the crap I take from those two I deserve to milk this for all its worth, don’t you?”

I shook my head.  “You’re on your own with this one.”

We got back in the van and drove towards what looked like a promising collection of buildings.  There was a truck mechanic shop, a clinic, a bait shop, and some low building that we couldn’t identify.  A quick search showed no one was at any of the buildings. 

“Okay, which way?” Tommy asked. 

“Try south.  We wanted to go that way anyway,” I suggested. 

“All righty,” Tommy said.  Duncan buried himself in a couple of maps.

Tommy took the van in that direction, and we quickly reached the southern end of town.  There we were greeted by a curious sight. 

Hundreds of people were working feverishly erecting barricades and digging trenches. Three watchtowers were fully manned, and I could see several sniper stations out in the grassy areas to the south.  All of them had clear fields of fire out to five hundred yards.

I gave Charlie an approving nod.  “These people have faced the fire before. But why are they preparing for it again?”

“Let’s find out.” Charlie stepped out of the van and walked over to a man who was directing several people to move some hay bales into a more funneling design.

“Excuse me, could you tell me…”

Charlie never got to finish his sentence before the man barked at him.

“Christ! What the hell are you idiots doing here?  Report up to the front line before it’s too late! What the hell? The call went out yesterday! Move!” With that, the man turned back to berating the people moving the hay bales.

Charlie turned back to me, and I shrugged.

“Guess we head south, and see what’s going on,” I said.

“Kind of glad the army is coming up soon,” Duncan said.  “Do you think it’s a horde on its way?  Maybe ‘the’ horde?”

Tommy snorted.  “That’s just a rumor.  There’s been reports for months about a huge horde that just wanders around and swallows up whole communities.  Don’t you think we’ve had found it by now?”

Duncan was unswayed. “We’ve been on the east side of the river.  Now we are in its territory.”

“Well, the good news is I have a plan should the mighty horde find us here,” I said loftily.

“Would that plan involve running for the nearest high ground?” Charlie asked.

“When did I tell you my plan?”

We got back into the van and went south again.  We passed another group of people digging out an old trench, and others were rebuilding old barricades. Something was seriously up.  This time of year people were generally getting ready for winter and not really worrying about zombie attacks.  They slowed down considerably in cold weather, even the fast ones, and one man could handle a good sized horde if he had the right weapon and was smart enough not to get completely surrounded or surprised.

We drove south for a few miles and reached a small gathering of vehicles and people.  They seemed to be clustered around a small barn, but from where we were we couldn’t see much else.

“Pull up back here,” I said.  “We don’t know for sure what’s going on, but clearly there is a zombie threat that is imminent.”

“Full gear?” Charlie asked.

I nodded. “Packs, too.”

We took a moment to get our gear on, checking our mags to make sure they were full. I had my pick and my bowie, my Glock and my rifle, and a pack full of useful goodies. I slipped my gloves on and put my balaclava on my head.  I didn’t pull it down over my face, though.  No need for that just yet.

Tommy gave me a look, and I just shrugged.  But he pulled his own out and wore it like a cap as well.

“It
is
getting colder,” he said.

We stepped out and walked over to the collection of people.  They were in a semi circle around a woman who appeared to be talking on an old wired phone like something from an army surplus store. She was about my age, with short black hair and wire rimmed glasses.  She was wearing a simple wool coat, but I could see the bulge of a handgun where the shoulder harness she wore rode up on the left side.

“Who are you?” A voice at my left distracted me before I could talk to the woman.

The speaker was a short man, about fifty years old, and looked to be as hard as the rock he was standing on.  His thick arms held a long pole that was topped with heavy chunks of jagged steel. No matter how he swung that thing, it was going to kill something. His face was a mass of black beard that was streaked with grey, and I could see dark scars down the side of his neck.  Three of them equal distant apart, like a hand that had clawed at him.

I held out my hand. “John Talon.  My friends here are Charlie James, Duncan Fries, and Tommy Carter. What’s going on?  Can we help?”

The man took my hand in a very strong grip. “Brian Wright. Pleasure. If you boys want to help, and by the look of you, you surely can, then I’ll get you up front to talk to Meggie right now.  Follow me.”