Zompoc Survivor: Odyssey (11 page)

“Is that everyone?” Amy asked.

“I think so,” Razor said. “I think you killed everyone else.” With Razor’s assessment, I pulled out the whistle George had given me and blew the all clear code we’d agreed on, three short and one long tweet. While we waited for George and the other two men, I ordered Razor to take off all the cutlery and we secured the rest of the survivors.

“What’s rule fourteen?” Razor asked as I pulled the zip strips closed around his wrists.

“Basically, don’t point a gun at someone unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he looked dead ahead and went very still. I could hear George and the others come in the front door. Johnny went to meet them. Now that I had a second to look around I could see that the outside edge of the drill floor was actually pretty crowded. Cardboard cases of MREs and HDRs were stacked near the garage door, with tables and piles of gear set up along the far wall.

“Dave,” I heard George call out as he and Johnny headed my way. “We’ve got incoming.”

“Dead or alive?” I asked.

“The dead kind. Probably heard the commotion and decided to come check it out.”

“Are the other doors still pretty solid?” I asked.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “We just scorched the paint is all. The only one that’s damaged is the front door.”

“You think we’ve got enough time to get a good barricade up?”

He shook his head. “Not enough people, not enough material and nowhere near enough time. Hell, we’d probably make enough noise trying to reinforce the door that they’d zero right in on us. They might pass us right by.”

“I can help,” Razor said. I was going to have to ask him to tell me his real name before long.

“Nope, sorry. That whole ‘trying to kill me’ thing you did makes me not trust you a little,” I said.

“They’re drawn to noise,” he said, pressing on. “But not just anything. It has to be sounds that remind them of people.”

“He’s got my attention,” Johnny said.

“Music seems to work pretty good, but the best stuff is where there’s people singing or talking. They really go agro on that. We used a CD player in a cage as a Z magnet when we wanted to raid a place. Just set it down, push play and watch ‘em all come out. Used to make noobs do the dead run for their initiation.” We all exchanged looks, and Amy shrugged.

“You still have the CD player?” she asked.

“In there,” he said, nodding toward one of the offices.

“Why are you suddenly so helpful?” Johnny asked after she left.

“Because the Zs don’t care who they munch on,” he said. “They get through that door, I’m just as dead as you fuckers. At least this way, I have a chance.” I looked at Johnny and George, and they both nodded, so I went to the back of one of the Humvees and grabbed a folding e-tool.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I sorted through the pile of knives on the hood of the Humvee closest to him. “You’re real name.”

“Chris,” he said. I picked out a full tang Bowie knife and a bayonet. The Army’s M9 bayonet was a decent knife for both survival and combat, and the Bowie had the length and weight to handle a fight. But for zombie killing, my money was on the e-tool. He got to his feet once I cut the zip strips free, and dutifully followed me over to the tables. I grabbed several MREs and started cutting them open, dumping the contents onto the table and field stripping them. With the cardboard removed, the heating elements and some of the condiment packages tossed, I got nine MREs into five packages. I tossed those and a few water bottles into a rucksack.

“There’s three days’ worth of food in there,” I said when I handed it to him. “If you’re smart, you’ll grab one of those shelter halves over there, too. Use the e-tool to smash heads. And next time you think about getting a sword, pick up a machete instead.” Amy came up and set a wire mesh cage on the table with a CD player secured inside.

“I replaced the batteries,” she said. “And I changed out the CD for a Nickelback album. That way you don’t lose anything worth listening to.” I held my tongue, not sure if liking some of their songs made me too uncool or not. He grabbed one of the shelter halves and tied it to the bottom of the ruck, then slid it onto his back and headed for the front.

“Okay, Chris,” I said when we were just inside the door. “I figure this doesn’t exactly even things up between us, but it’s a good start. But if I ever see you again and you draw a weapon on me, I will kill you.”

“What if I don’t?” he asked.

“I guess that’ll depend on what we’re both doing,” I said. He let one side of his mouth quirk up and nodded. “One last thing before you go. A sword is a weapon of honor. Think about that before you pick one up again.” His lips tightened into a thin line, and he gave me a long look before he spoke.

“Okay,” he said. Without another word, he took off across the street. A few moments later, I heard music start.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Johnny said from behind me as the music faded into the distance.

“You shouldn’t walk up behind people like that,” I said. “Do what? Think about the whole honor thing? I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Me, too,” he said. We turned and headed back inside.

The people Damon’s crew had taken captive were out when we made it back to the drill floor, and someone had shut the garage door. Another guy was face down on the floor, with one of George’s men binding his hands behind his back none too gently.

“We found him hiding in with the hostages,” George said as he came toward me with a woman beside him. Her short, dark hair didn’t hide the bruises on her face, and her right eye was still puffy and swollen from a recent blow.

“Sneaky bastard. Strip him down to his underwear,” I said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Cut his shirt off if you need to.”

“Hey, let us go and we’ll help you out, too!” the hoodie kid said as we passed him.

“Screw that, your buddy volunteered first,” George said. “You didn’t speak up until you thought there was something in it for you. No deal, kid.”

“We need to at least get a barricade in that hallway,” I said. George nodded and the woman standing beside him stepped up.

“Coach Malcolm can take care of the barricade,” she said, her brown eyes flicking back and forth as she looked me over. “You need to sit down and let me treat that wound before you pass out from blood loss.”

“What wound?” I asked.

“That one,” she said, pointing one slim finger at my stomach. I looked down to see a hole in my vest, with a red stain around it. Pain flared along my side when I took a breath, and I felt a sudden chill creep up the back of my neck.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” I said. My hands shook as I started to remove the vest.

“Are you always a smartass?” she asked as she reached out to help.

“Only when shit gets bad,” Amy said.

Journal of Maya Weiss

October 29

I met the people Dave sent from Kansas City a couple of days ago. They had to be the train Johnny Apocalypse heard the night before. Even though I knew they wouldn’t be with them, I kept looking for them, hoping I’d see them. A few had spent time with them, especially Willie and the two Marines, Hernandez and Kaplan. Everyone seemed to know something about them, though. I’m going to have to talk to Dave about what he’s turning my daughter into. These people keep track of zombie kill count like baseball fans keep track of batting averages and home runs, and while Dave’s is pretty high, it’s Amy’s that worries me. Especially since Dave and she have the most “special” kills. It wouldn’t be so bad if all of this was for some stupid video game, but this is real life and death.

Enough of that. We loaded our little convoy onto the train and went as far west as we could. The end of the line was a town called Veteran, Wyoming. The tracks actually kept going, but they looped back north and east after Veteran. We camped there and tried to plan our route. These are the days when I miss the map function on my phone. But, Nate already had a plan. The maps in the Land Masters had routes marked on them that would get us to his place. It took us most of the day, but tonight, we’re camping about 25 miles from Nate’s place. Hopefully, tomorrow will see us safe.

Radio Z is back on the air tonight. Johnny started off with Black Magic Woman, then played Halestorm’s cover of Bad Romance and followed them with more of Dave and my favorite songs. After a few songs, he stopped and I could hear music playing in the background. “Hear that, America? That’s the sound of courage and mercy. Last time, I told you I was going to go check out a town I’d heard about that had some troubles. Well, I found it. And I found heroes, too. They took care of their troubles, with the help of a wandering survivor. Make no mistake, some people died tonight; justice is harsh out here in the wasteland. But I also saw a man show mercy when he could have taken a life, and I got to see a man get the chance to turn his life around. I watched a man risk his life to save a stranger, and I watched a doctor who had just worked on one patient brave the streets in the dark to save another one who needed her. Yeah, I found a whole group of heroes. But I found one in particular. He says he’s just another survivor, like anyone else. But I don’t buy it. This dude fights the good fight. But you want to know the best part? This is gonna break your hearts, kids. After the dust settled, the good people here in Hastings asked our survivor to stay around. But our boy is dead set on makin’ his way back to the woman he loves. Now ain’t that sweet? So, for all you out there tonight listening in, this show is dedicated to the lady that he’s trying to find. I hope she’s safe. So, here’s to heroes in love, boys and girls.” He played Magic Man after that, and then, he went off the air.

He didn’t use Dave’s name; he didn’t have to. The whole broadcast was like one long, musical love note just for us.

Chapter 5

Marching Orders

~ I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it. ~ Rosalia deCastro

“The psychosomatic shock was more dangerous to you than the gunshot wound,” Dr. Crews said as she finished changing the bandage on the wound. “It just went through some adipose tissue and came out the other side. Nothing too serious, as far as gunshot wounds go.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” I said. “Feels like I got kicked in the gut by a mule.” My abdomen hurt in front and in back, and Dr. Crews hadn’t had much to work with in the way of anesthetic. I hadn’t been the ideal, stoic patient, either.

“If you can complain, I think you’ll make it. You’re about as bad as my other patient,” she said.

“So, McKay’s going to be okay?” Amy asked. Her face brightened as she waited for the answer.

“She’ll live, but I’m not sure how much use she’s going to get back in her left arm. If I had access to a physical therapist for her, and all the facilities I needed, I’d say she’d get almost eighty percent. Now, though?” She paused and shook her head. “Now I can’t even begin to guess.”

“How long am I going to be laid up?” I asked as I pulled my new t-shirt down.

“Technically, you can get up now, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” She frowned at me as I tried to push myself up. With Amy’s arm under my shoulder, I was able sit up. Getting my feet on the floor was a minor victory of its own, and walking to radio room felt like winning a marathon. The Spitfire radio terminal weighed less than twenty pounds but as I lugged my prize to the workbench in the room, I felt myself flagging. By the time I got it out, I had to have Amy carry it to the one of the three Humvees that they had been using to ferry people and equipment between the armory and St Mark’s. The fourth one had taken the other two rounds that had been fired at me.

“So, we have our radio,” Amy said as I followed behind her. “What now?”

“I need to find a satellite and get the antenna aligned. So I need a rooftop.”

“You need to get to the roof?” George asked from the driver’s seat.

“Beats setting it up in the parking lot,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“I’ll get you up there then,” he said over the truck’s rumble. Amy climbed in the back and pulled the door closed. He pulled out of the garage and gave the big diesel some gas as we pulled clear of the gate, taking the turn a little wide to make sure the trailer hitched to the back cleared the fence. Outside, the first hints of dawn were starting to creep into the sky ahead of us. Bodies littered the road, infected that fell victim to the front grill of the Humvees or their tires. As we drove along, I could see the not-so-dead ones shuffling around on side streets. We passed one that was facing east with its head tilted back. I watched it as we came up on it, and it turned away from the sunrise and began to wander toward one of the houses. Others seemed to be doing the same thing.

“Where are they going?” Amy asked, saying aloud what I had been wondering.

“Out of the sun,” George said. “You don’t see many out when the sun’s up, not sure why. Some folks think it’s because they’re allergic to it or something. But they’re not vampires. I’ve never seen one of ‘em burst into flames in the sunlight. Near as I can figure, they just don’t like it.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with the melatonin and serotonin thing Ruth was talking about,” Amy offered. “I think melatonin’s the one called the darkness hormone, something about too much light keeping people from getting enough of it.”

“Blue light,” George said with a short laugh. “My wife used to wear this pair of yellow glasses every night before bed. She said they were supposed to block blue light and help her sleep hormones.” More and more infected were moving off the streets, and I wondered if the stage one ghouls were the same way. Moments later, we were pulling into the parking lot beside the church. I got out and walked the short distance between the Humvee and the gate into the walled courtyard beside the cathedral. George led us to the door into the kitchen and pushed me toward a chair at the table.

“I can walk,” I said as he put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me into the seat.

“I know you can,” he said, completely ignoring my protest otherwise. “But you lost a little blood, and Doc Crews said to get plenty of fluids and high protein foods into you. She gave me a list, and you’re not moving from that spot until you eat.”

“Spinach, beans, orange juice and meat,” Amy said. “I really want to see him try to choke down a can or two of spinach.”

“I can help with the food part,” I said as I tried to get to my feet.

“You already went and got yourself shot,” George said. “What makes you think you’re safe in a kitchen full of knives and hot surfaces? Sit your ass right back down.” I let myself sink back down into the chair and forced myself to sit still while they cooked. Somewhere along the way, my eyes closed and I dozed off, because the next thing I knew I was jerked awake as my right leg twitched. I let my head droop again, and before long I was greeted by the sound of a bowl being set on the table. True to the list she’d quoted, Amy and George had put together a full meal from a combination of MREs and canned goods. To my surprise, even the spinach tasted almost as good as chocolate and I was scraping the bottom of the plate too soon for my stomach’s liking.

Once the food was gone, I slipped out of the kitchen and found the radio. Someone had unloaded it from the truck and left it near the front of the pews. Inside the box was what I needed almost as much as the radio itself: the instruction manual. I had used the Spitfire radio terminal before, but it had been a few years.

“Welcome to the exciting new world of military radio,” I said under my breath as I moved to the nearest pew and sat down. “Your AN slash PSC5 Spitfire Radio Terminal and You will provide you with hours of entertaining reading as you learn about exciting topics like frequency presets, COMSEC key loading and other military abbreviations.” Like most military manuals, this one was very dry. My head started bobbing before I’d gotten to the bottom of the first page.

The next time my eyes opened, I was looking up at the cathedral’s ceiling. The light was streaming in from the stained glass windows in the front of the church, and somehow that was important. When I stretched, my belly reminded me that a bullet had just gone through it with a pretty sharp jolt of pain and my yawn turned into a sharp exhale of discomfort. Sitting up was an expedition to new kinds of suffering, so I turned on my side and pushed myself upright with my arm. Facing the east end of the church, I realized why the pretty colors at the front of the church were important. That meant the sun was on the west side of the building. Judging by the angle of the sunbeams, it was well past noon.

“You don’t snore as loud as mom says you do,” Amy said from behind me. Twisting too far in either direction didn’t seem like a good idea, so I stood up and turned around. At least that seemed a little easier than it had been a few hours ago. Amy was stretched out on the pew behind me, with her pack and weapons stacked at her feet. She had one of the books we’d traded for open on her chest, one finger stuck between the pages to keep her place. My gear was stacked neatly on the pew in front of me, with the notable addition of an ammo box and a stack of magazines next to the M4.

“Maybe getting shot fixed that,” I said. “Crap, I slept too long.” I grabbed the manual from beside my pack and sat back down. The light lasted through the last page, but I didn’t beat sunset by much. I unpacked the radio by lantern light, and by the time I got it ready to go, night had fallen. I followed George to a small circular stairwell hidden in the south wall, and we found ourselves climbing onto the tower roof, one of the highest points around. Finding a working satellite took me almost an hour, but the signal came in strong and clean, and I loaded in the COMSEC key.

“Jayhawk, this is Magic Man,” I said into the mic. “Come in, Jayhawk.” I waited, imagining a hundred terrible possibilities with every second that passed.

“Hoo-ah, Magic Man. This is Jayhawk, it’s good to hear your voice. You just made me a million dollars.” Nate Reid’s voice was a little tinny over the radio, but it was still the enthusiastic rumble I remembered from hours of talks at his kitchen table.

“Never bet against me,” I said with a smile. “Speaking of people you shouldn’t bet against, did Maya make it there yet?” My heart started pounding in my chest as I waited for him to answer.

“She made it in this morning,” Nate said. “And she brought about 300 house guests with her. Plus your cat.” I laughed, so relieved that I wasn’t sure how I kept from either deflating on the spot or exploding.

“Yeah, watch out for Leo…he’ll tear you up something fierce,” I said. “I guess you heard about me and Keyes.”

“Yeah, Shaw’s right hand. You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” he asked.

“Well, if you’re going to do something, do it well,” I said. “So, right now, I’m pretty much radioactive. After this, I’m going to find a hole, pull it in after me and go dark for a couple of weeks. So, if Maya’s around, Amy and I would like to talk to her.”

“Roger that,” Nate said. “I have someone on their way to get her. Since you’re off the reservation, there’s something we’d like you to do.”

“Well, I’ll have to check my busy social schedule,” I said. “I have golf with the President, then the regatta at the yacht club after lunch. I’ll see what I can do. But who’s this we you’re talking about?”

“Mr. Stewart,” another voice came over the handset. “This is Colonel Shafer. Son, I already owe you more than one drink for helping us back in Springfield. Way I hear it, there’s a few Marines and civilians who owe you and Maya their asses, too. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to add to the tab.”

“What do you need, sir?” I asked, forcing a dozen questions to the back of my mind. “Bear in mind, I have a teenage girl with me, so firefights are right out. And dances. Especially dances.” Amy slapped at my arm at that and I gave her what was supposed to be a stern look.

“No, I’m pretty sure no one is going to be shooting at you. We just need you to go retrieve some data about the Asura virus. Should be pretty much Marine proof. All you need to do is go in, grab anything pertaining to Project: Home Shield and get your ass back here.”

“I can do that,” I said. “Where am I going?”

“It’s an old COG installation from the Cold War. USAMRIID intercepted a partial message about Home Shield routed from someone in the OEM, but it was cut off before anything really useful was transmitted. All we managed to get was the sender’s coordinates,” Shafer said. He relayed them to me and I repeated them back. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“I’ll go check it out, sir,” I said.

“I appreciate it, son. When you make it here, we’ll have a beer and I’ll tell you how we ended up here. But there’s a fierce looking woman here who wants to talk to you. You have yourself some good luck, and we’ll see you soon.”

“Dave?” Maya’s voice came through the handset before I could reply.

“Hey, baby,” I said. My belly felt like I was on a roller coaster ride the second I heard her voice, and I felt my mouth stretch into a smile. “You made it.”

“We did. Porsche and Cassie and Bryce are okay, too. Sweet Goddess, I miss you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, love,” I said. “A little worse for wear, but nothing life threatening. Unless you count teaching Amy to drive.” Her laughter fell on my ears like the song of an angel.

“You’re braver than I thought,” she said. “So, Amy’s okay, too?”

“Yeah, she’s doing even better than me. Though her vocabulary has gotten a little more…colorful of late. Evidently I’m a terrible father figure that way.”

“What
will
they think at the country club? Such a scandal.” I laughed and made sure she could hear it. “I don’t know where she learns such shitty language.”

“No idea. Must be from me. Look, I’m sorry we couldn’t go straight to Nate’s. I tried to send Amy with the train, I really did. But, unlike her mother, she’s a little stubborn.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just get her here safe. Let me talk to her.” I handed the handset to Amy with a shake of my head.

“Mom?” she said, suddenly sounding very much her age, and very much like a homesick teenager. I stood and walked to the edge of the roof, looking west at the darkening sky. George came up to stand beside me, and for a moment or two, neither of us spoke.

“I take it you two are going to be moving on,” he finally said. I nodded. “It’s a shame. You’re good in a fight, and after last night, a lot of folks down there think you’re some kind of hero.” He gestured down at the cathedral below us.

“Believe me, I’ve got clay feet. In fact, I could use your help with something, if you didn’t mind making a bit of a trip.”

“Right now, son, you could ask most folks here for just about anything and they’d do it for you. Some of those men and women you-“

“We,” I interjected.

“Okay, some of the men and women
we
rescued last night had family here. We owe you and your daughter a lot.”

“Wait until you hear the whole story before you go canonizing me,” I said before I laid out the quick and dirty version of the situation we had found at the Manson family farm. “I told him I was going to come back and check on the kids in a week or two. Truth is, I never intended to leave those kids there.”