Deadrise 2: Deadwar (12 page)

“Thank you corporal.” Jenkins said absently. Collecting his thoughts, he turned his eyes to Boone. “I don’t think you and your people can handle ten armed men. Especially not men you have been surviving with closely for several months. But I will make you a counter offer. Tonight, in the middle of the night, my Militia, aided by you and your people, will take control of Mountain View, eliminating Hughes and any security people who resist. I have sixteen well-armed soldiers, plus myself. How many can you deliver, for certain?”

Boone contemplated for a few seconds, obviously surprised by Jenkins offer to commit his own troops. “Five for certain… I might be able to swing a few more.”

“Don’t bother with the maybes. All it takes is one to squeal. But kill as few as possible. Maybe they can be flipped after it’s all over. Once Hughes is gone, Mountain View will officially be adopted as an extension the Rainbow Lake community. You will be commissioned into our Militia at the rank of Captain and appointed commander of the Mountain View region, with the rest of the security detail commissioned as soldiers under your command.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” Jenkins said. “Here’s how I see it; You’ve convinced me that Hughes is dangerous and needs to be removed from command, but I don’t think someone else should have control of this region either. If I am going to go through the trouble of backing a revolution, I’m going to plant my own flag when it’s over. Now you and your people can take advantage of the situation while the taking is good, or you can be left out in the cold. But if you try and cross me, I will gun you down. And it won’t be a head shot either... I’ll leave you to walk around as zombies.” That erased any sign of stubbornness from Boone’s eyes.

“You’ll let me and my people be part of the assault?” Boone asked.

“Of course. Then come morning the entire population will be assembled and informed of the change of command. Now are you going to have a problem fitting into my Militia?” Jenkins asked.

“Of course not, General. Why do you ask?” Boone was clearly upset by this line of questioning.

“Because you are going to have to follow my orders, whether you like them or not.”

“You’ll get no problems from me.” Boone said.

“Good, now let’s go over the details of our little coup…”

Once they returned to Mountain View Boone left to make the rounds with his people. Jenkins stopped out front of the lodge, right where he had been standing earlier, and lit a cigarette. The entire time they had been planning the takeover, Jenkins had been chewing over how best to inform the Council. Beside himself, other members present were Matt, Patty and Doc Reilly. He considered evacuating them back to Rainbow Lake for the night, but figured that may arouse suspicion from Hughes. They would just have to proceed with the Council members there. How would they react? Matt wouldn’t be a problem. He might feel a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing, but he would back Jenkins play. But Patty and the Doc could be difficult. Patty’s civil rights activist mentality would be appalled at the heavy handed, Gestapo like tactics used in the coup, while the Doc would simply be bitter about the loss of life. And for the rest of the Council back home? Susan would most likely side with her husband and David would support his sister. Sheriff Busley wouldn’t like it, but he was a reasonable man, and would understand the necessity. Mac would support the decision as well, if he could bother to pull himself out of bed with that red haired, tattooed vixen that had came in with the first group of Park City refugees. Lucas Casey would probably oppose the move just to oppose Jenkins, while Guy Hammonds would lament the abuse of military power. His estimations gave him a 6-4 split among the council. Not that it really mattered what the Council thought one-way or the other.
His
mind was made up. They would accept his decision or they would deal with the consequences of defiance.

Jenkins glanced at his watch. It was almost 9:00 pm. The coup was scheduled to go down at 2:00 am. Five hours until the hammer dropped. He ran the plan over in his mind one more time. If this revolution proved successful, Rainbow Lake would acquire nearly one hundred new civilians, a large ski lodge to use as a base of operations and all of the resources and manpower that came with it. Should they fail, every one of his men, including the Council members would most likely be killed.

“When did you get back?” Matt asked as he came out the front entrance of the lodge.

“Just now…” Jenkins said, keeping his gaze fixed on a bright star in the northern sky. “How have things been?”

“I don’t know that I’m cut out for politics.” Matt said wearily as he stood beside Jenkins.

“That bad, huh?” Jenkins gave a small chuckle. But he sympathized with Matt. He didn’t see the point in all of these negotiations in the first place. Why should they deal with other communities as equals when they clearly were not? Mountain View was smaller and weaker than Rainbow Lake. They had the advantage in manpower, firepower, and the wherewithal to use it. Why negotiate with Mountain View when they could simply be dominated and absorbed? But it was best to let the Council feel useful. Make them think they really mattered. Besides, it would keep Hughes to suspect anything.

“I miss my wife.” Matt’s voice was full of melancholy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin. Opening it he pulled out a joint.

“Are you alright?” Jenkins asked, looking at his friend closely. There was a depression about him, a slump to his shoulders that Jenkins had never seen in Matt before.

“Everything is just really sinking in for the first time, you know?” Matt put the joint in his mouth and lit it. “I’m seeing things in a different light. I…” Matt shook his head and took another puff on the joint.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Jenkins asked.

Matt shook his head and exhaled a lungful of smoke. “I just miss Susan.”

Jenkins knew that Matt was holding something back, but decided not to press him on it. Everyone got depressed once in awhile. And like he said, everything was really just sinking in for the first time. That they all weren’t babbling lunatics, plagued by nightmares of the horrors and atrocities they had witnessed the past several months was a miracle from God in an of itself.

“Well, I have to talk to you. And what I have to say may not make you feel any better. Let’s take a walk.” They strolled out to the parking lot, and while they walked, Jenkins filled Matt in on the coup and when it was going to go down. They had reached the Hummer by the time Jenkins was finished and found Corporal Durbin there, lying on the hood, smoking a cigarette and looking at the stars. He began to rise when he saw the General, but Jenkins waved him down.

“I want to say I’m upset,” Matt said, “But at this point I think it’s probably for the best. Hughes is insane. He keeps referring to this place as his Kingdom.” Matt gave a small chuckle, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Jenkins wondered if Matt thought him insane? “Boone is an ex-Nazi, survivalist conspiracy theorist.”

“And you want to put him in charge of this place?” Matt was amazed.

“Only of the Militia. It’s his wet dream come true.”

“Ex-Nazi?” Matt asked skeptically.

“He said the dead walking cured him of his bigotry. Human is human.”

“If you think he’s right for the job, who am I to argue? What about leadership for the people themselves?”

“Maybe we should just relocate them to the Lake?” Jenkins said.

“I thought of that too. Some of them will definitely want to go, but quite a few of them lived here in Mountain View pre-plague; The lodge owners, some of the staff. They might want to stay. I say let them. They know the area, and it would be a good groundwork for future expansion.” They continued talking for several more minutes, discussion options and future strategies, for well over an hour.

It was just past 10:00 pm when Jenkins radio crackled. “Perimeter to base do you have copy?” It sounded like the soldier was shouting, and the popping of gunfire in the background. “We are under attack! Repeat we are under attack!

CHAPTER 14

Tuesday, August 7, 2001

I-80 Security Checkpoint, Mile Marker 48

Southwestern WY

10:04 PM

“How many more can you see?” shouted Corporal John Miller, leader of 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company. Miller was a short, athletic man in his late twenties, with curly red hair, freckles, and green eye's. He was standing behind the open passenger door of the squads black dodge van, his AK-47 propped in the open window, aimed out at the darkness. The van was parked on the right shoulder of the highway, facing northeast. Scattered along the shoulder of the road between the lush forest and the black van were the dead corpses of twenty zombies.

“I don’t see any movement.” Replied Private Warren Summerhays from atop the vans roof, where he was turning in a circle, scouting the night. Pvt. Summerhays stood was tall and bulky, with short brown hair and brown eyes.

Private Tristan Horner stood over on the driver’s side of the van, adopting the same position as Cpl. Miller. Pvt. Horner was tall and gangly, with short brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t see anything either.” he replied.

“Schroeder? How’s your situation over there?” Corporal Miller called across the four-lane interstate to where 3rd Platoon, Bravo Company had their van parked.

“We’re clear for now.” Came Cpl. Schroeder’s reply.

Miller breathed a sigh of relief. The zombies had come out of the forest on either side of the interstate, attacking the checkpoint. Luckily they had been able to kill them all before they got close enough to attack.

Out there in the darkness, he could hear the moaning of advancing zombies like a whisper on the wind. Miller strained his eyes against the darkness, searching for movement.

“This is freaking me right the fuck out.” Pvt. Horner complained.

“Everyone inside the van.” Miller said, climbing into the passenger seat. Pvt. Horner climbed behind the wheel while Pvt. Summerhays popped the trap door that had been cut into the roof and dropped down into the rear of the van.

“Are we pulling back?” Pvt. Horner asked with anticipation, already reaching for the ignition key.

“We hold our ground until relieved or ordered to pull back!” Cpl. Miller snapped. A veteran of the first Gulf War, he had also been a single father pre-plague, but it had been his ex-wife’s week with their son when the Deadrise began, and Miller had been unable to reach them in time to save them and both had been eaten alive. He had fled Salt Lake City in a haze of pain, anguish and suicidal recklessness. Park City had been a temporary refuge, but it too had fallen to the zombie hordes. Miller didn’t remember how he escaped the city, but when the fog of loss finally cleared from his mind, he found himself on the road with a small group of refugees, entering Kittewa. His experience as a soldier in the Gulf War had earned him a Platoon when he joined the Rainbow Lake Militia.

“Those deadfucks couldn’t have snuck through the trees on their own.” Pvt. Horner said fearfully as he scanned the dark highway. “I know a superzombie is out there.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Pvt. Summerhays said. None of them had encountered a superzombie before, and the prospect filled most of with dread.

Cpl. Miller felt only a detached interest, the most he felt about most things these days. If there was one out there, they would kill it or it would kill them. If he lived, so much the better, but if he was to die, then he could only hope he would not return as a zombie so that he may see his son again. He had a 9mm sidearm with a bullet for his brain that would help ensure as much.

In the driver’s seat, Pvt. Horner had rolled up the window. “Maybe you should do the same.” He cautioned Cpl. Miller. Nodding, Miller accommodated him.

From across the interstate came the sudden roar of gunfire accompanied by several muzzle flashes. Despite Cpl. Miller’s warning only a few moments ago Pvt. Horner started the vehicles engine.

Cpl. Miller didn’t say a word…

Pvt. Sean Sanders fired the last round in his AK-47, blowing a two-inch hole right through a zombie's forehead, sending it crumpling to the ground. While reloading he rapidly assessed the situation from his position atop the B-3 assault van; Pvt. Todd Mason stood in the open drivers door, facing the forest to the north of the interstate, firing at the advancing mob of zombies, at least fifty strong, that was pouring out of the forest. Cpl. Schroeder was on the passenger side of the van, firing over the hood into the oncoming horde.

“Mason! Start the vehicle! MASON!” Cpl. Schroeder screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the gunfire, and Pvt. Mason remained oblivious to his calls, his gaze set in a mask of determined horror, his only rational being killing the advancing zombies.

A muzzle flash of return gunfire flared in the darkness of the forest behind the advancing zombies, and Pvt. Mason let out a terrible scream of pain and fell to the ground clutching both of his legs.

“MASON!” Cpl. Schroeder screamed. He quit firing and jumped into the cab of the van.

Bullets chewed into the edge of the roof, tracking towards him and Pvt. Sanders stumbled back in fear. He jumped to the ground on the passenger side of the van and when he landed he felt his left ankle twist and pop. He let out a scream of pain and fell to the still warm tarmac. He was dazed for several seconds but quickly cleared his head, letting the pain in his ankle wash away the confusion in his mind. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet, screaming under his breath his ankle flared with excruciating pain. He knew it was badly sprained at the least, more than likely broken, but if he didn’t get across the interstate to Bravo Two, he would be zombie food…