American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man (2 page)

Chapter 2

“We found a shit-load of
tracks out there, both zombies and a couple of sets of boot prints.  We
followed them back to Brown Estates, just under a mile straight across from us
through the woods,” Mike told those assembled at the pavilion behind the main
house.

“We cleared that little
collection of houses weeks ago.  Did it look like anyone was living out there?”

“I don’t think so, Jan. 
But that place dead-ends pretty far back into the trees.  People could drive in
and out of there and we’d never know it.”

Gordy sat with his head
in his hands, his elbows resting on the rough wood of the weather-worn picnic
table.  Rubbing his temples, he sat up and looked at Mike, then to the other
men that had gone searching the woods for zombies and clues. 

“It seems someone
deliberately led those things close enough to let them follow the sound of the
backhoe at work.  People shooting at the guard shack minutes after the noise of
the machinery went quite means that they were listening, waiting for their
distraction to have its effect.  Which indicates to me that whoever this is,
they know more about us than we do about them.”

“We need to fix that, and
fast.”

“Yes, we do, but we don’t
even have a clue where to begin,” Calvin said in reply to Mike’s statement.

“I’ve seen the truck
several times now, I’m pretty sure I’d know it if I saw it again,” Dean told
the group.  “We can go out, scout the area, see if they are holed up somewhere
nearby.”

“No, not yet,” Gordy told
his son.  “We won’t stand much of a chance against people armed with fully
automatic weapons.  I say we move forward as we intended and go check out the
armory.  Once we’re better able to arm ourselves, then we can think about
finding the jackasses that fired on you today.”

“So what do we do in the
meantime?  Sit here on our asses, waiting for a horde of undead to shuffle into
camp?”  Jimmy glared around the room, daring someone to challenge him.

Rick took Jimmy’s hard
gaze and sent it right back.  “No, Jimmy, we won’t just sit here on our asses. 
We put more people on the wall, and get it finished as fast as possible.  We
also send out a team to go investigate the armory.”  Rick turned to Gordy, “I’m
ready to go tomorrow morning.  I think we should take three others, get close
and watch the place for a while, just to be sure.”

“I’m going,” Jimmy said,
sitting down next to Tam. 

Tam sat next to her
husband, just staring at him.  For all of Jimmy’s anger, she was the one person
he couldn’t bring himself to stare down with a challenging glare.

“We need to slow down
just a bit here guys, think this through before we go out there gunning for a
fight.”

“No disrespect, Gordy,
but we’ve got people doing drive-bys and dropping zombies off outside our
walls.  Next it could be people with guns sneaking in and…”  Alex left his
thought unfinished.  Everyone understood what came next.

“I know, and I’m ready to
go myself.  I just hate the thought that we may be rushing out there right into
trouble.”

Gordy swept his gaze over
the survivors sitting at the tables and leaning against posts.  These people
were his family, and sending them out to face the dangers of the world got
harder every day. 

“What are you thinking,
Dad?” Lynn asked.  

“Ok, we go out tomorrow. 
Dean, you’ve seen this truck repeatedly, I think you should join us just in
case we come across it.”  Dean nodded at his father in agreement.  “Rick and
Jimmy, myself, and Dean will head for the armory early tomorrow morning.  Cal,
Becca and Garret can man the guard post.  Lisa, Evie, and Lynn will work with
the kids on garden duty, while Alex handles top-watch.  Once the gardening is
finished, I think you should keep the kids inside for lessons tomorrow. 
Everyone else can join in on wall work.”

Though the meeting was
over, many people sat around sipping coffee and talking about the events of the
day.  Meetings tended to end as social events, often with people sitting late
into the evening, sharing thoughts and company. 

Chapter 3

Gordy, Rick, Dean, and
Jimmy followed back roads from Saverton, entering Highway 61 about two and a
half miles south of Hannibal.  They would have to go another mile and a half to
reach the armory, though they did not intend to drive right up to the door.

They cruised slowly
through the dead stoplight that separated Red Devil Road and Warren Barrett
Drive. The now-abandoned General Mills plant appeared dark and brooding, a
sulking giant, its massive parking lot nearly vacant; only a few scattered vehicles
sat forlornly near the main entrance. 

Gordy slowed the De Soto,
stopping on the railroad overpass just beyond the food manufacturing plant.  He
sat quietly for a moment, leaning forward over the steering wheel,
contemplating the roadway before them.  Without turning he asked his
companions, “Do we leave the car here and walk the last couple of miles to the
armory, or do we take a chance and drive past the gas stations, hotels, and
Rickey Hollow to take a chance on drawing a horde of zombies out to follow us?”

“I think we drive up as
close as we can, there’s a little turnout that goes back into the trees, where
you’d turn on to Clinic Road.  We leave the car in the trees there.  Besides,
Dad,  I’m not sure your knee can handle the walk there and back.”

“Don’t you worry about my
knee, or I’ll put you over it,” Gordy shot his son a grin and put the car into
gear.

Rolling slowly, not
revving the engine, Gordy directed the De Soto around abandoned vehicles and
desiccated bodies.  Moving through the intersection of Highway 61 and Paris
Gravel Road Gordy asked, “Does anyone else think it’s odd that we haven’t seen
a gut-sucker at all yet?”

“Was just thinking the
same thing, Gordo,” Jimmy answered.  Dean and Rick agreed it was strange that
even with the noise of the car they had seen no undead moving about.

After several minutes of
slow driving Gordy steered the car onto the short turn-out on the right side of
the highway, turning off the car when they were under heavy cover of the trees
that went right to the edge of the deep ditch bordering the road.

The men left their car,
quietly gathering their weapons as they all listened intently to their
surroundings, hoping to hear trouble before they saw it.

Gordy carried his Sig
P227, and one of the suppressed AR-15’s.  Jimmy held a Remington 870 Express 12
gauge shotgun by its pistol grip, moving behind the car to watch as the others
geared up.  On his hip he wore his chosen Springfield XDM .40 caliber.

Rick hefted the heavy
Accuracy International L115A3.  As they moved in toward the armory, Rick would
set up and provide overwatch from a distance, while the others would approach
close enough to get a good view with binoculars.

Dean carried only a
single pistol, a Kel-Tec P-11 9mm, along with his knife.  He preferred hand-to-hand
combat, if he could close on an enemy.

“Check your guards and
let’s move,” Gordy said quietly.  The men took a moment to check each other’s
wrist, neck/shoulder, and shin bite guards, ensuring that each was tightly
secured and ready to protect the wearer.

Rick left ahead of the
other men, going east into the woods, following the tree line until he found a
safe place to create his hide. 

Those waiting at the
vehicle allowed ten minutes for Rick to position himself before moving north
towards the armory.  A narrow concrete ditch used to control water runoff along
the highway provided the men cover as they advanced.  The un-mown waist-high
grass as well as the wild bushes and shrubs growing along the edge of the ditch
worked well with the mismatched camouflage the men were wearing for the
operation.

Gordy’s knee protested as
the men crouch-walked slowly along the channel, stopping once they were as
close as they dared to get.  Electronic red-dot sights were now useless, so
many of their rifles had been outfitted with long range optics, which Gordy now
used to scan the surrounding area.  Both Dean and Jimmy used binoculars to
survey the armory.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean
said aloud.

“Quite, damn it,” Jimmy
whispered quickly.

“Sorry, wasn’t thinking,”
Dean said sheepishly.  “You guys seeing this?  What the hell?”

“Yeah, I see it,” Gordy
said, keeping his voice low.

Jimmy simply grunted,
softly.

Through their optics the
men could see the fenced area around the gated and locked parking lot used for
military vehicles.  The Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles, commonly
known as MRAPs, had been pushed up parallel to the fence, end to end.  Every
vehicle in the lot, including generator trucks, water transport, and humvees
had been lined up along much of the inside of the chain link, including several
civilian vehicles.

The men were most
surprised by the still-moving zombies that had been tied up to hang from every
line post on the outside perimeter of the fencing. 

“Why would they do that? 
What’s the point of it, I just don’t get it.”

“Not a clue, son.  Now we
know for sure that people are here though.  We can’t get a vantage on the main
entrance from here, but there’s no cover if we move further out.  Let’s just
sit tight here for a while, see what happens.”

They did not have to
watch for long before they heard voices drifting from the direction of the
large main building.  A moment later they could hear the sound of a vehicle
starting. 

Dean found it humorous
that the driver of the vehicle flicked on the turn signal to signify a left
turn on to Huckleberry Drive.  Watching the car it suddenly dawned on him that
it was the same VW Beetle that Arianna had taken the night Richard had been
killed.

“Dad, Jimmy, that’s our
car!” Dean whispered forcefully.

Both men directed their
attention to the small yellow car, watching as it followed the drive through
Huckleberry Park, which the armory sat at the edge of. 

“You sure?”

“It is, Gordy.  I
recognize it too,” Jimmy offered.

“Have you seen the truck
that took a shot at us?”

“Not yet, but it could be
parked further up, towards the large garage, which we can’t see from this low
angle.  I could try to move in closer.”

Gordy and Jimmy both
stopped watching through their optics and gaped at Dean.  “You can’t be
serious, man.”

“I
am
serious,
Jimmy.  We need to know what’s up there.  I can stay low, follow the ditch and
come up on the side of the building facing the highway.  I should be able to
stay out of sight and sneak up close enough to get a good look.”

“Out of the damn
question, Dean!  I don’t have a death wish, and if something happened to you
out here you’re mom would kill every one of us.”

Further discussion was
quelled when they saw that the VW was returning.  The tiny car drove slowly,
the driver watching all around, as if inspecting the area.

“Some sort of one man
patrol?” Jimmy asked.

“Don’t know, could be,”
Gordy responded.  They watched the car pull into the drive and disappear from
sight.

Jimmy slowly panned his
field glasses over the lush green of the park.  The grass had been kept low, to
facilitate the several large gardens that had been planted throughout the open
areas of the grounds.

Minutes after the VW had
returned Gordy spoke, saying, “Guys, I have movement.  Looks like people
walking.”

Dean and Jimmy watched
through binoculars as a small group of people walked across the parking lot and
turned onto the narrow street, heading for the park.  They counted seven
people, five of which carried tools such as garden rakes, hoes, and shovels,
while the other two carried fishing poles. 

The people seemed to drag
themselves along, shuffling slowly, much like a zombie.  Shoulders sagged;
chins dipped to chests, eyes stared at the ground as the line of people walked
forward.  Several wore ragged clothing, as if it were rotting away as they wore
it.  Three men walked behind them, wearing military battle dress camouflage
uniforms and carrying M4A1 carbines which explained the sense of defeat the
group emanated.

“Guys,” Dean said, “you
see her?”

Jimmy and Gordy looked closely
at the line of slowly marching people.  It took them a moment, but soon they
saw a tall, thin woman with stringy, unwashed hair using a garden hoe as a
walking stick. 

“Arianna,” Jimmy said, an
edge of distaste to his voice.

They watched silently as
the people were marched to one of the large vegetable gardens.  Two of the
armed men stayed with the gardeners while the remaining guard, which is what
the men watching from the ditch felt them to be, broke off and followed the two
with fishing poles toward the small pond that was out of the men’s sightline.

“Forced work detail, you
think?”  Dean asked.

“Looks like it to me,”
Jimmy said, “though they could be prisoners.  Thieves maybe.”

“I’m not sure I would
consider Arianna a criminal type.”

“Unless you consider
stupid a crime, Gordo, then she’s public enemy number-fucking-one.”

Gordy let the comment
pass, understanding Jimmy’s vitriol toward the woman. 

The men were preparing to
settle in for a long day of watching when a shot rang out from the direction of
the gardens.  Binoculars and scope up to their eyes, they scanned the last
garden the people were working on. 

Though the guards were
too far away to hear it was obvious that they were upset.  One of the men kept
pointing to something on the ground, and Jimmy took a moment to refocus his
field glasses.  Just as he made out that they were pointing to the body of an
older man, he heard an engine start up at the armory.

  “Dad, that’s the
truck!” Dean said, excitedly.

Dean watched the old
truck leave the parking lot and drive towards the gardens, keeping the
binoculars on it the entire time.

“You sure?”

“Yes, it’s the same
truck, without a doubt.”

“Ok, that’s what we
needed to know.  Let that mess over there calm down a bit, and we can head
back.  We damn sure don’t want a firefight with these guys.  Not right now at
least.”

They watched as the body
was thrown roughly into the back of the truck, and the driver headed away from
the armory, further into the park.  Returning several minutes later the truck
drove past the guards without slowing, turning back up into the driveway of the
armory building.  They were unable to tell if the body was still in the back of
the truck.

“Ok, let’s move out,”
Gordy said, turning around and preparing to lead the way back down the concrete
ditch.

“Hang on Gordo, you hear
that?”

“Hear what, Jimmy?” 
Gordon cocked his head, listening.  “I don’t hear…” He stopped, just hearing
the sounds of footsteps, many of them, close and coming closer.  He was tempted
to whisper that no one was to move, but feared that even the faintest noise
would draw attention.

The men made eye contact,
communicating silently as only those who have known each other a long time can
do.  In minutes the men could hear footsteps and low moans directly above them,
on the highway.  Staying silent they hoped to let the creatures pass and be on
their way. 

Their hopes
were shredded by the sound of automatic weapons, as the people from the armory
began to open fire on zombies that the men hiding in the ditch could not see.