A Shrouded World - Whistlers (15 page)

“There are still some groups that are holding out
, but they are spread throughout a small part of what used to be the country. It’s pretty much day-by-day survival, but we’ve built a sanctuary where we hope to stave off the extinction of humankind,” I say.

“That’s pretty fucked up, man,” Mike interjects.

“Yeah. And it’s not just the night runners. We’ve run into more than a few marauding bands as well. We’re trying to scout for other survivors, but we’re finding less and less each day. We do manage to locate a few here and there, but the odds lessen every day; time is running out.”

“A
nd they run in packs like we’ve seen here?”

“Initially, yes. They were in small to medium-sized packs
, but we just discovered that they’re gathering in larger ones numbering in the thousands. I hate to think what will happen should they all start getting together into larger ones. If we take the percentages into account, there is something in the neighborhood of half a million in our area alone,” I state.

Mike just looks on. I recognize the expression of someone who has been through
very similar events.

“We’ve started hitting them with an AC-130 gunship
, but they disperse almost immediately. It’s hard to catch the larger-sized packs, and I have the feeling our effort at whittling them down isn’t really doing much,” I continue.

“Holy shit! You have a gunship?
” Mike asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. We just acquired it,” I answer.

“And you have someone who can fly it?”

“Well, I have some e
xperience in a similar aircraft.”

He shakes his head. “We could definitely use something like that.”

“I wish we had one here, but I’m not even sure they have something like that. We also just met up with the crew from an attack sub. Do you have something like that where you’re from?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure we do anymore.”

“Well, they left to explore what remains of the coastline and, even though we maintain a form of contact, I’m not sure we’ll hear from them again. I tell you the worst part, there are some very crazy-ass people out there. The breakdown of the rules and structure has allowed them the freedom of their minds to do as they please.”

“Some people, man,” Mike states. “You mentioned your kids before. How are they holding up?”

I pause for a moment. “They’re doing as well as they can. I think it’s me that’s having a problem. It’s that balance between keeping them safe versus giving them experience in order to survive. I still haven’t figured that one out and probably never will. They’ve seen some firefights and have held up well, but it tightens my gut thinking of them having to live in that kind of world. I need to get back to them.”

“You will, man. We both need to get back to our loved ones. How about the rest of your family?”

I pause even longer before looking into Mike’s eyes, my vision blurring. “I lost one of my daughters.”

His expression saddens as he places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Jack.”

*   *   *   *   *   *

“Is that a loon?” John asked.

The only loon you hear is
...Jack thought.

Jack then heard an all-too-
familiar shriek in the distance.

Damn, how did he hear that before me
? Jack thought, shaking his head in wonder.

The distant cries of the night runners drifted across the night air, reaching the top of the tower as Mike and Jack stood near the railing.

“It’s getting close to go time,” Mike said nervously. “I sure do wish I had a beer.”

“A beer would go down nicely,
” Jack agreed.

“Those sounds make my blood run cold, Jack. Are you we sure that waiting for them to come in is the best move?” Mike asked, questioning the only plan they really ha
d afforded to them.

Mike turned to watch Trip scribble something on the side of the smooth, steel structure. “What are you doing, Trip?”

“Graffiti, man, I want people to know we were here…kind of like Kilroy,” Trip said as he tried to write. “But this pencil I borrowed doesn’t really work.”

“Pencil? That doesn’t really look like a pencil. Jack, you see this thing?” Mike asked.

Turning, Jack saw John trying to scratch the surface of the tower with what appeared to be a fuse pencil.

“Whoa! Dude! Stop! Do you mind if I take a look at that?” Jack asked, reaching his hand out.

“How do you spell ‘Ponch’?” Trip asked as he turned, placing the ‘pencil’ in his mouth in a questioning manner.

“You seriously don’t want to be doing that, John,” Jack stated, slowly shaking his head with amazement.

“He’s eating explosives, isn’t he?” Mike asked, but it was more of a statement. “You have got to be kidding me. John, buddy, could I maybe borrow that pencil?” Mike nervously shuffled closer, his trembling hand extending toward Trip.

“Yeah...he is. Bite down on that hard enough and you won’t have to worry about further dental work.”

“Sure, Mike, not a problem. What’s mine is yours, except for the Phrito’s. Those were pretty much mine,” Trip said with a smile.

He pulled the pencil from his mouth, the end of it catching on his front tooth. His fingers fumbled and the cylinder plummeted towards the ground.

Jack watched as the fuse pencil fell through John’s fumbling hands. It struck the steel grating with a clink and rolled toward one of the openings. Seeing it start to fall through one of the spaces in the grating, Jack dove for the side of the walkway, falling onto the metallic structure chest first. The fuse pencil fell all of the way through. Reaching his hand quickly underneath, he felt the chilled metal of the object land in his hand before it could begin its long journey to the ground, and to the waiting walking dead below.

Mike had made a move for the pencil as he watched it fall from John’s hand, but Jack had been quicker. There was something here he didn’t
understand. Jack had a secret; Mike would keep his eye on him. Thus far, they were allies, but only because of common enemies.

“Damn nice grab
, man. Hundreds of zombies and dozens of night runners and we almost did ourselves in. Although, if I had my choice between being eaten or blown up...”

“I just get lucky sometimes,” Jack replied, rising. He glanced to see a look of thoughtful concentration, perhaps a glimmer of distrust, cross Mike’s face.

Yeah, we may be allies, but it’s obvious the complete trust factor isn’t there yet...perhaps for either of us
.

“And I don’t think we’d be blown up with this, but it sure would have
sucked mightily to lose it,” Jack continued, holding the fuse pencil up to find it still intact. “I think we’ve found our distraction.”

“Alright, let’s get by the ladder
and I’ll toss what Trip volunteered.” Mike held Trip’s skivvies as far away from himself as possible. “Oh, God, I think I see some brown on there,” Mike said, trying to hold back some bile.

“Damn, I could have really gone without seeing that. We could use both. The
skivvies for smell and the C-4 for noise. If we went partway down the ladder and tossed them, we could wait for the ensuing fight and make our way through the woods. Where we’ll go after that is another story, but at least it’s away from here. Are you going to guide John?” Jack asked as he watched Mike don the NVGs.

“Sounds good,
Jack. You lead the way, we’ll follow.”
And that way I can keep my eye on you,
Mike thought
.
“You tell me when to toss the underwear,” Mike said.

“Toss them?” Trip asked, shocked. “I thought you wanted to wear them. I’ve had those since 1978, man.”

And apparently wearing them ever since
, Jack thought.

“Oh
, God. I think I’m going to be sick. Jack, get us the fuck out of here,” Mike said.

“Okay. Let’s shimmy down. Weapons ready. And, John, it would be much appreciated if you didn’t launch that thing into my back,” Jack said, nodding toward Trip’s slingshot.

Jack secured his M-4 by his side and swung his legs onto the ladder. Looking down, he saw the milling group of zombies below become agitated as darkness settled firmly upon the land. The distant shrieks carried on the night air, drawing closer by the second. Night runners approached from the surrounding trees. The plan looked a lot different and a lot less appetizing as they descended the ladder with the inky blackness of night all around.

This looked like a much better plan during the day
, Jack thought, visualizing the shake of Lynn’s head.

“I wish the moon
was out so we could see a little better,” Mike said so softly that no one else could hear. “What is it about the daytime that makes plans seem all that much better? Because right now, I’m heading towards a shitload of zombies and night runners with dirty fucking underwear in one of my hands. How did that ever sound like a good idea?”

Jack looked upward, past John to where Mike was.

Can this fucker read minds
? Mike thought.

“I was just thinking that.” Jack confirmed Mike’s fears.

Jack opened up and casted outward, sensing a pack of night runners closing in. He wasn’t really sure that holding up on the tower for the night wasn’t actually the better option but, here they were, and they might as well give it a try.

“
We have about twenty-five night runners about to interrupt our little get-together. Are you ready for this?” Jack asked.

“No,
” Mike answered honestly. “Just tell me when I can heave this thing, and we’ll go from there.”

Jack stopped about twenty feet from the ground. The reek of the dead below threatened to bring tears to his eyes
, and he felt bile rise in his throat from the stench. Taking a few shallow breaths to calm himself, he sensed the pack of night runners drawing closer. They were still hidden within the dark folds of the trees, but their high-pitched screams mixed with the moaning of the zombies just beneath his feet. Hooking his legs in the rungs, he took the block of C-4 from his pocket. He then took the fuse pencil and held it at the ready.

“They’re close. Anytime will do,” Jack replied.

“Hey, Trip, can I borrow a couple of marbles?” Mike asked.

“Why? Do you just want to toss them, too?” Trip asked, still a little saddened over the prospect of losing his beloved underwear.

When Mike didn’t immediately reply, Trip began anew. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re going to toss my marbles as well!?”

“Trip, man, first off, I think you’re marbles
were tossed out a long time ago, and you need to keep it down a bit. We’re kind of in a life or death situation here,” Mike said, trying to placate the man.

Mike felt a hand hit the bottom of his foot. He reached down and grabbed the handful of marbles that Trip had reluctantly handed over. Mike wrapped the underwear around the marbles for weight.

“I swear to God, if I get pink eye or something from touching these things, I’m going to be really angry. Here goes nothing.” Mike hurled the package.

The shorts, carrying the stains from years of concerts, motorcycle rides, and partying, launched into the night air. The ends
not wrapped around the marbles fluttered as they sailed. They flew over the heads of the waiting zombies and came to rest just beyond the agitated horde. Night runners broke into the opening, their excited shrieks rising and their pale faces seeming to glow in the darkness. They came to a stop, lifting their noses to the night air. As one, they turned slightly and, with a scream, streaked toward the marble-filled shorts. Jack readied the fuse pencil and C-4.

Mike watched as the shorts
arced into open space. The zombies, which had been mostly looking upwards as their meal came to meet them, were now somewhat distracted. They had caught scent of the stained clothing…and also something else. The night runners were coming into range. The zombies seemed torn. The trio on the side of the water tower they could still see, but they could not get. Some of the zombies peeled off, heading toward the underwear. Others ranged farther out trying to get a line of sight on the new food source.

Seeing some of the horde below
streak off toward the night runners emerging from the woods, Jack slammed the pencil against one of the rungs in order to activate it. He then placed it into the block of C-4 and brought his hand back, ready to toss it.

“I’m
going to get my slingshot ready,” Trip said, not really talking to anyone. With his hand, he reached in to grab a couple of pieces of his ammunition.

Jack threw the block away from the tower in the opposite direction than their intended route of flight. With the strong scent and noise from the C-4 going off, he hoped that enough of the zombies and night runners would be drawn off, allowing them to escape. There were already signs of the night runners and zombies tangling with each other near the pair of downed shorts.

“PULL!” Trip shouted.

“What the f
—?” Mike began, hearing Trip shout.