A Very Good Man (48 page)

  Then Molly did something actually helpful and guided them to a construction site. The walk took a while, it being in the burned out area of town, but the bricks and boards had been untouched, well away from anything that could burn. There were even some tools in a locked shed. A zombie was in there too, but Jake shot it without thinking and got Molly to set up the burial with the slow man, Len, while the others looted.

  It was a mother load. They couldn't fill either cart all the way with bricks, they were too heavy, but made a solid layer in the bottom of each, then repeated it three more times. The carts handled the weight, but lighter things were needed to go on top, tools and stuff first, but more wood and then, from a house they checked out near the edge of town, bedding and clothes, kitchen knives and plates.

  They had food with them and ate before it got dark, separating into three groups to sleep after locking everything up. Humans had little reason to try an armed group like theirs and zombies wouldn't bother them through locked doors, if they came at all. As long as you didn't scream or talk too loud, the dead just ignored people inside.

  That left burners, but they'd gone invisible after a while, finally figuring out that Jesus probably didn't want them to burn the world after all. Maybe they figured that out on their own. Unless Jesus had shown up and told them to stop being morons. That or they all died. If so he hoped it was in one of the fires they'd set. If anyone in the world deserved to burn, they did.

  Bastards.

  There were three beds, which was fine, since they could share, but the slow guy wanted to sleep with his girlfriend, the new, dumpy looking woman in her forties, that seemed smart but shy. That left an odd woman out, since Rita wanted to be with her guy. That or Jake got the floor again. Tired as he was that could work, or the couch in the front room. He'd decided on that when Molly shrugged.

  “I'm not fucking you, but we can share.” She said bluntly, as if the normal expectation would have been something different. It pissed him off that she said it like that, but he shrugged. It would be warmer if nothing else, which was probably her idea too. A chilly night out now meant a chilly night in, especially without a fire. Still, she could have just said they could share and that would have worked just as well, wouldn't it? She'd already made herself clear about how she felt in regards to him.

  The trip back the next day was as expected at first, they got up, ate some bread Lois had made, using real flour, with some of the apple conserve, which is what they'd taken to calling the cooked down brown sludge that happened when you just smashed and evaporated the water from the fruit. Basically applesauce meets baby food. After that, since they were already fully loaded, they started the slow trudge back to the house. It took a long time, because Rita and Molly couldn't move their cart, the lighter one with the fabric, nearly as fast as he and the guy he'd gotten or the other two could. The new woman may have been as small as Rita, but she pulled her weight. That meant they all went slow, which meant they saw the police van, a big dark blue and white panel thing parked on the far side of the woods through the trees way before they got to it.

  Yay. Free ammo.

  How often did you get to have a situation like that just fall into your lap? Jake grinned for a few seconds.

  Men in heavy clothing herded zombies out of the back of the thing, the blue and black colored vehicle with police written on the side as if to advertise exactly who was attacking. All of his people saw this at about the same time and came to a stop.

  Silently. Nearly perfect really.

  Well then.

  It was the first time he'd actually seen it happen, but they'd kind of suspected something like this for a while, hadn't they? There were six cops, or men at least, since they didn't wear police uniforms, just layers of heavy clothing. Like the cleaners did. It presented an interesting dilemma.

  He thought he could get the police, or the seven zombies they had and were moving through the woods toward the house, but he didn't think he could do all of them at once. The people with him had weapons and while a lot of the zombies looked pretty fresh, they didn't have any of the “type Bs” with them that he could tell. Jake shrugged and gathered everyone around so he could whisper at them.

  “Molly, I want you to take out the zombies, alright? I have the police. Remember head shots. Take turns and reload. Got it? Team work here. And remember, move to your own left. Don't let it confuse you.” He tried to sound light and happy about the whole thing, but everyone looked scared. Molly nodded at least.

  That she seemed scared too was... wonderful.

  Lovely really. It was good that she didn't want to die anymore. He set up a flanking pattern for them and explained what to do, then walked up behind the police until he stood no more that fifteen feet away. They didn't even notice him, the undead keeping them focused to the front.

  Very handy.

  Molly screamed. Loud. It was something she was good at. The zombies turned from their handlers and moved with best speed toward the “vulnerable” prey, making the cops curse and stare in that direction, they had shotguns out, so he'd have to be quick about the whole thing. The police weren't stupid, not about fighting, they were just not ready for this, and Jake, thanks to all the practice he'd had, didn't miss a lot. He had the first two down before they even turned and caught the third as he brought the weapon in his hands up to fire. It went off, leaving a line of burning pain across the side Jake's right leg mid-thigh. He dove for the ground and rolled as the others fired at him, the patterns tight and lethal as they pumped round after round at him. Trying to shoot and roll was just going to waste ammunition so he didn't bother, wondering what the police were thinking instead. Probably that they were going to die.

  If so, they were aware of the plan in play.

  Good.

  They were all on the same page then.

  They would have killed him about that time, probably, but the other shooting started, which made the cops all duck, even though it wasn't for them. Two of them went down when they tried to look, Jake picking them off from the ground.

  Morons.

  They forgot to deal with the threat in front of them, closest to them, first. The last man tried to run, so caught a bullet to the back of the head. Jake reloaded, and jogged over to the scene of the other fight, coming at an angle to the rough line the others had set, not wanting to be shot by mistake. Rita was trying to run away from a shambler instead of shooting at it and Molly seemed to be out of ammo. Two of the shamblers were down though, and none of their people were dead yet, so in all, better than he'd expected.

  Jake yelled, “Alright! Reload when they come for me, we'll yell back and forth like this, wait for me to take one out, then call out, got it? Don't answer yet! Just get ready, calm and relaxed. They can't take us this way as long as we all fight.” He smiled and shot not one but two of the things as they closed, the quickest of the bunch. No one said anything at all, busily resetting he hoped. He got the third just as Molly yelled again.

  “Got it! Head shots this time, remember to aim for the head!” She sounded freaked, but the advice was right. It was heartening. Jake hadn't really been sure the girl had been paying that much attention the whole time.

  Rita, little, skinny and clearly panicked jumped forward and fired at the first one, taking it under the chin, nearly removing the head altogether. Molly was more sedate, but took the last one without hesitation.

  Or at least Jake thought it was the last one, until he saw that the dowdy woman and her slow boyfriend were being attacked. The woman fired twice, her shotgun empty then she started to visibly panic. As the undead thing closed on her, Jake getting ready to fire, the slow man spoke gently.

  “Back and to the left, let it come for me. It's alright. Back and to the left. Your own left.” He sounded... calm about it, steely. The dead guy who had a bit of a gut on him and ragged work clothes on, re-aimed , going for Len.

  And caught a load of shot to the face that took it all the way to the ground, the slow man searching the world around him, one shot still left and ready to fight.

  Jake nearly wanted to cry, he was so proud.

  They had promise. None of his people even had to be beheaded.

  How incredible was that?

  Jake didn't wait, grabbing a machete from the tool loaded cart, he started to limp back over to the bodies, and fell down. Right, shot.

  Not bad, a couple of bird shot pellets he thought. From the holes it looked like five of them. Literally just a flesh wound. He bled, but not profusely. Rita pointed and started to cry out, but Molly shushed her. The holes would ruin his jeans, but it had been about time for a new pair anyway, or maybe Rita could help him patch these? That would be a handy skill to learn, sewing.

  He sighed and shook his head a bit.

  “Rita, would you get me something to tie this off with. Molly, start taking heads please. Um... You...” Jake had to think for a second to remember the slow guy's name again. He'd just had it too. Adrenalin would do that to you and he really did feel a bit jazzed at the moment.

  “Len? Would you help her with that please? The cops too, we don't want them coming back if we can help it, since they've all had that vaccine. Bound to be all surly and aggressive if they do.”

  The thin woman squawked loud enough that Jake nearly shot her, but had her back turned and went quiet without noticing anything at all, as she scrambled in the cart looking for something to use as a bandage. After about five minutes Jake asked if she'd just hurry. Please.

  He made sure to add that, shot or not. Three minutes later he got up, limped over to the fabric cart, and grabbed the first thing to hand, then held his hand out for some scissors. She shook and stared at him slightly panicked seeming.

  Well, he got that, he was binding his wound with a silky cloth that had black polka-dots on a white background. She probably had plans for it. That or thought it would clash with the jeans. Black and white went with everything though, didn't it? He didn't need much he assured her and gave the rest of the fabric back after he was done.

  Then having a thought, he got the others to tie the carts in a line behind the police van, using some white nylon rope they'd brought. They couldn't go fast, but this way he wouldn't have to push the cart another two miles either. The bodies, all of them, got left, the weapons and ammo taken as well as the boots, belts and anything that looked useful. Each of the men had a nice hunting knife too. Probably for whittling. It wasn't like these guys worked, not as far as Jake had seen. They just sort of holed up and sent zombies at people.

  Their parents must have been so proud of all they'd accomplished in life.

  As strange as it seemed, Rita, who was slightly older than most the rest of them, in her thirties, was the only one that could drive a stick shift. She'd had one for years she assured them, the van was a lot bigger, but odds were they wouldn't be blocking traffic as they crawled back home as slowly as they could. Jake didn't know what the carts could take, or the rope they'd used to set up the makeshift trailers. So they went slow, barely past the speed of a quick jog, which still had them pulling in a lot faster than they would have otherwise.