Dead: Siege & Survival (20 page)

She’d been unimpressed when it was revealed that some tabloid cover girl was in their midst. However, apparently some of the men had offered her all sorts of ‘perks’ in exchange for a bit of intimacy. The girl had refused…as was her right under Wanda’s rule.

That had been the big surprise. When they’d initially taken over this location and the current residents had been presented, Shari and her sister were deemed practically useless. However, when a possibility had been raised that would involve getting rid of the retarded girl—
Down’s syndrome!
She heard Shari’s voice growl in her mind even now—it was like a switch had been flipped. Now, Shari was usually one of the first people awake in the camp. She worked from before sun up and went well after sunset.

Wanda had forbidden any of the soldiers from forcing their will on any female. She had been called a lot of things since the dead began to walk. Most of them were deserved. She didn’t really care. However, one thing she would not condone was rape. That was still an offense punishable by death. When a few of the troops decided to test that rule and had trapped not only Shari, but the one named Aleah as well, and had their way forcibly with the young ladies...Wanda had shown her resolve.

The hangings had been conducted immediately following the tribunal where two of the men had quickly offered up the other three members of this little gang of miscreants during testimony in exchange for leniency. The three were declared guilty and executed. The other two were given leniency. She had them tossed over the wall with nothing but the clothes on their back.

Yet, there was still the problem of Kevin and his band of terrorists. They seemed to strike at will. Her guards were turning up dead almost every day. Obviously this guy had some serious training. He was managing to slip in, put an arrow through two walking sentries and escape with little trace…in three feet of snow!

She knew that the killings were a single person because of the few clues they had managed to glean. But it was the torching of the huge golf club’s main building that made her realize that she was dealing with a well-organized group. The thing was, up to that point, she had been willing to offer the man amnesty. He obviously had a good head on his shoulders. He was a definite step above the normal ground-pounders under her command. However, now she just wanted his head. He was too dangerous to keep alive.

She had eavesdropped on a few of the conversations with the members of his group that she had, for all intents and purposes, captured and conscripted. They spoke of this Kevin Dreon person like he was some sort of perfect combination of genius, saint, and messiah. A person like that would eventually be a threat to her authority.

Walking through the camp, she could feel the tension. It was bad enough that she was trying to ensure the survival of all of these ungrateful bastards…but now the insubordination was something she was going to have to deal with directly. Her attempt to lure this Kevin in to her grasp by staging the execution of the young lady with
Down’s syndrome
had failed to produce; further proof that this individual was savvy and a force to be dealt with as soon as possible.

“Excuse me, Major Beers?” a female voice interrupted her mental ranting.

“What is it?” she snapped as she turned to face the person bold enough to address her before her morning cup of coffee. It was that damned pop star.

“I was told that my rations are being cut?”

“You don’t eat all your food,” Wanda said with an indifferent shrug. “In case you haven’t noticed…food is in short supply. Especially after that latest stunt by your beloved little friend, Kevin. Most of the stores that
you
put away were destroyed in that fire in case you don’t remember. You are now relying on
our
stores for your meals and there isn’t enough to waste.”

“But I am only taking what everybody else is allowed…no more and no less.”

“And you aren’t eating it all.”

“Because you completely cut Valarie off from the food line! We had a deal. You said that I could give her mine.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the wood cutting detail?”

“We had a deal!”

“There is a line in one of the
Star Wars
movies…not those horrendous so-called prequels, but the originals. I think it was Darth Vader who said, ‘Pray I don’t alter it further.’ So get your skinny little ass back to work before I throw both of you over the wall,” Wanda growled.

“He’s gonna beat you, ya know,” Shari whispered just loud enough to be heard. Whether on purpose or not, it still earned her a backhanded slap that sent her to the ground.

Wanda stood over the supposed pop star—she’d heard her singing to that damn retarded girl and hadn’t been impressed—with clenched fists. She was on the verge of making an example of this one once and for all. The girl was sprawled on the frozen ground with a trickle of blood coming from the corner of her mouth. She was staring up with a defiant glare sparking with tears.

Several thoughts crossed her mind as the two looked deep into each other’s eyes. She could give this one to the men. The rationale was simple: she was a way to reclaim the loyalty of her troops. Also, many of her men and women had expressed discomfort at the crazed ramblings of the retarded girl. She supposedly saw ghosts, she talked to thin air, and she had a serious problem with her sanitary habits. Tossing that one over the wall would ease a lot of minds.

“Kevin,” Shari whispered.

Wanda waited. Obviously the girl had another smartass comment to make about how this man would ride down from the clouds in a flaming chariot and save the world…or at least her and her friends.
What the…?
She thought as she realized that the girl was no longer looking at her. Glancing over her shoulder, Wanda couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Coming through the camp was a man with his hands laced behind his head. Obviously, according to Shari’s reaction, this was the elusive Kevin. She’d expected…more.

9

Surviving Ain’t Livin’

Dr. Zahn sat beside me in the cat as we waited for Jon to come back out of the woods from his bathroom break. I could tell for a while that she’d had something on her mind. I figured the best way to find out was to just ask.

“What?” I let that one word hang in the air. I knew the doctor well enough to know that she was not one for small talk.

“I killed that poor little girl,” Dr. Zahn whispered. “And before you start running at the mouth about all the things I’ve done, or how I shouldn’t have simply known or whatever else you all have been yammering on about…I specialized in infectious diseases for almost a decade. I had a position with the CDC in the Eighties and saw it all. Aids. Ebola. Things that would scare you into taking full body dips in anti-bacterial liquid.”

“Okay,” I said after she sat quiet for a second, “but this isn’t like anything you’ve ever seen.”

“Still, there are simple rules that you
always
follow.”

“So…like you told me not so long ago…don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“It’s not that—” she started, but Jon running for us through the snow ended that conversation in a hurry.

He kept looking over his shoulder as he ran. I’d never seen him so visibly shook. Whatever it was, it was bad. And then I saw them. Wolves.

We’d dealt with them before and they were just disturbing. It wasn’t that they were super fast or anything. It all boiled down to the eyes and the creepy groan they managed to produce that was like nothing I’d ever heard before and after that one time, hoped to never hear again.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Popping into gear, I got us rolling as Jon came up alongside. The doctor opened the door and held out a hand. She recoiled so fast that she almost ended up in my seat.

“Dammit!” the doctor cursed. I glanced over as Jon climbed in…with a huge rip in his hand.

“Just drive,” the ever-stalwart Marine snapped (I will never say former because Jon still serves as a Marine despite the lack of any formal government to answer to any longer).

I kept my focus forward because I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t need to.

As we continued down the general direction of the road—basically I drove between the canopies of frosted pine trees that bordered the path—Jon worked at cleaning and bandaging his hand with the basic first aid gear that he had obviously had the foresight to put behind the seat. I did mentally slap my forehead when he pulled the metal box out because something so obvious had once again slipped my mind.

I drove for an hour before the doctor nudged me. Jon was leaning against the door with his eyes closed. I pulled the big knife from my belt and handed it over. Doctor Zahn accepted it like it might turn into a snake and bite her.

“Don’t be so hasty,” Jon said. He opened his eyes and shot a sideways glance at the two of us.

I wanted to be relieved. So far there was no sign of the black squiggles. That didn’t necessarily mean that we were out of the woods yet, so to speak. It was encouraging, but there was still the possibility that he could be infected. Maybe a bite from a wolf or dog took longer to cause a person to change. We really didn’t have any idea.

“How are you feeling, Jon?” Dr. Zahn asked.

“I feel like rancid oil is running through my veins and my stomach is doing flips, but other than that…”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

“I need you to stay awake.”

“Okay.”

“And I need you to keep your eyes open so I can watch you. Since that is the most definite way we have of knowing your condition, I will monitor you that way.”

It took over two hours to leave the wolves behind to the point of not being able to see them. That only meant we had put distance between us. If wolf zombies were anything like their human counterparts—and we have no reason to think otherwise—once they get on a trail, they are relentless until something distracts them.

As it started to get darker, I kept glancing at Jon for directions. He simply sat silently staring straight ahead.

“I am assuming that you will tell me if and when I need to turn,” I finally said.

“Of course,” was Jon’s only reply.

We drove for about ten more minutes when Jon pointed to a narrow opening in the trees on the right hand side of the road. I turned and began a slow climb.

“There are a handful of trailer homes coming up,” Jon said. “We never stayed in any, so just pull into the first one. We can secure it and stay the night. We will have to finish this in the morning. It isn’t far, but I don’t want to make this last little leg in the dark. Up ahead is where we saw most of the zombie activity.”

The first trailer we came to was set back from the road through a single row of scraggly looking pine trees. I pulled into the first opening I found and parked beside the partially collapsed fence that looked like it had been hit by something moving fast the way it was all twisted and mangled.

“Let me take point going in,” Jon said.

I didn’t see any reason to argue. After all, he was already bitten. If he was infected, another bite would not make it any worse. If he was immune…well, pretty much the same logic.

We climbed the cinder block stairs and stood on the three-quarter inch plywood square that acted as a porch. I was trying my best not to judge…but this was almost too stereotypical. Jon tried the knob at the top of the stairs. It opened and released a rolling wave of stench that made me think of what shoving my face in a dirty cat box might smell like.

I lit a torch and handed it to Jon so that he could get a better look. It seems that the windows were covered in aluminum foil. Jon only took one step in before backing out in a hurry. I had my machete in my hand and quickly stepped in front of Dr. Zahn.

“Don’t bother,” Jon said as he turned his back to the open door. “This was a meth lab. There is nothing moving inside.”

We moved on to the next trailer. This one was a double-wide with no fence. As far as trailers went, this one looked okay. In fact, whoever lived here had put a lot of work into making it look like an actual house. The contrasts were so jarring that I almost missed the hand reaching out from the snow between the screened in porch and the big bush just beside it.

I brought my machete up, but never had the chance to swing as Dr. Zahn drove a wicked looking Buck knife into the snow-crusted face that rose from the powder in a slow motion eruption. I gave her a sideways glance. She simply shrugged and accepted my invitation for her to enter ahead of me.

A walk through revealed that the place was empty inside of anything that might want to bite our faces off. The rest of the night was dull. I did my best to relish the fact that the only problem we faced was staying warm enough. The temperatures plunged as it got dark and I would guess that it went well below zero.

The three of us barricaded the two doors and chose to rely on noise to wake us in the unlikely event that zombies showed up. We huddled under every single blanket and comforter while making a bit of a Dr. Zahn sandwich to maximize warmth from our bodies. It was still freezing. As I drifted off to sleep, I was reminded of a story by Jack London about a guy in the frozen wastes who dies of hypothermia.

Sweet dreams.

***

I woke to Jon shaking me. Dr. Zahn was already on her feet and I could see thick clouds of steam coming from their mouths and nostrils. The cold was so harsh that it made my face sting as soon as I came out from under the covers.

“Take this,” Jon said, handing me a strip of a blanket that he had cut into wide strips. “Put this over your mouth and nose. It will make breathing easier.”

I shrugged and did as I was told, but I also felt a bit of relief when I saw that he had clear eyes. Jon certainly knew more about survival that somebody like me. My idea of roughing it up until this whole zombie thing had consisted of fixing the non-microwavable macaroni and cheese.