Gravewalkers: Dying Time (12 page)

A crew of the true original
King Louie Foragers wore makeshift protective suits as they rushed
about under Fat Jack’s orders. Critias could discern little about
them because of their masks and goggles, but they were all heavily
armed.

“
The nibblers know my
smoke and follow after me,” Fat Jack warned them by radio, “so
there isn’t much time and no room for mistakes.”

Carmen raced along a dirt
track then bumped the truck hard as they jumped up onto the
pier.

Some of the paddleboat crew
positioned the hoisting boom over the pier while a team of other
men spritely climbed along it to the dock by way of dangling ropes.
Sailors on the ship fired their especially loud but otherwise
excellent gunpowder weapons at encroaching ghouls. Infected closed
in on the enticing action of smoke columns, noise, and overt
movement, which was all a great dinner bell that summoned the
vulturine fallen. The disembarked sailors swiftly buckled cargo
straps under the truck then coupled the ends onto the hoist that
fished down from the tip of the boom.

Fat Jack had the Thunder
Child in a full power reverse hasty retreat even before the hoist
had spooled in enough cable to tension on the truck. The winch
caught up just in time to lift the truck’s weight into the air
before the Thunder Child dragged it off into the river. The sailors
got the truck down onto the deck with professional brevity despite
the swing of the truck and the watery sway of the
paddlewheeler.

Critias removed the helmet
from his mechsuit to appear less futuristic when he met their
rescuers.

“
Come on out of there and
let me have a look at you,” Fat Jack called. He was not at all fat,
but rather lean as were all the crew. The days of lavish eating had
ended with the Outbreak. Staving off starvation was the new
standard of luxury living. He had a thick black beard and mustache
with a touch of gray at the corners.

A dozen of the men gasped
in awe when they saw Carmen climb out of the roof hatch in her
form-fitting blue flight-suit. When Critias followed her lead, his
unbelievably advanced body-armor impressed the men in a different
way.

Their unusual appearance
surprised Fat Jack, “Well what do we have here? I get to welcome
Miss America and a cosmonaut onto my ironclad. If I had known we
would be receiving such illustrious guests, I would have worn my
fancy clothes.”

“
This is my partner,
Carmen,” Critias introduced her, “and my name is Critias.” He
offered his hand to Fat Jack, “This is a tremendous honor, sir. I
never thought to see the day I would meet the very first Grand
Marshal alive and in the flesh.”

Jack was unfamiliar with
the title, “Grand Marshal, you say? I don’t know about that. I
can’t recall leading any parades unless you mean this one. You must
be disappointed if you know me because I do not have quite as much
flesh as I used to.” He patted his flat belly, “My guess is that
you mean that you have heard of Fat Jack as being the Forager
commander of King Louie; if that’s the case, then I’m the one and
same.”

“
Yes, sir,” Critias
agreed. “That’s what I meant.”

Since they both wore work
gloves, Fat Jack broke from contamination protocol to shake
Critias’ hand in genuine happy welcome, “That’s enough sirs for one
lifetime. You can call me Jack, or Fat Jack as you please; I answer
to both. How is it that you two came to be out here all on your
lonesome? It’s a rare thing these days for us to find unexpected
guests.”

Carmen quieted Critias with
a touch on his arm. “We’re the last survivors of a government
bunker in Chicago,” she lied. “We salvaged what valuable equipment
we could then we drove down here hoping to join up with King
Louie.”

“
Then you have succeeded,”
Fat Jack smiled on her in welcome. “Tonight you’ll dine at the
Captains’ Table. Tony Banjo and his crew shot some geese, so it
will be a fine meal. I don’t suppose you have any cigarettes or
real booze with you.”

“
If cigars will do I think
we have a box or two,” Critias told Fat Jack. “We have a couple
crates of packaged food too. We are happy to share everything, but
some of the weapons and technical equipment needs to stay with us.
Some of the gear is dangerous if mishandled. They’re not things you
will have ever seen before.”

Fat Jack nodded to show
that he understood, “If your astronaut suit or that strange pistol
you wear are examples, I can well imagine you have some other nice
toys. We share our food, but what is yours is yours, as the King
always says. That has always been our way.”

Tony Banjo came forward to
stand near Carmen; he was a dashing young man with a cocky smile.
“Hey there, beautiful lady,” he gave Carmen a wink. “How about you
and I go someplace private and get to know each other better. I’m
something of a big hero in these parts, the best damn Forager
Captain that ever snarfed a can of pork and beans.”

“
Down, boy!” said another
man who was somewhat older and carried himself with a no-non-sense
bearing. “You couldn’t out-forage my crew on your best day and my
worst.”

“
Back off, George,” Tony
Banjo told him. “This lady knows a good thing when she sees
it.”

Carmen turned about to grab
Critias then plant such a passionate kiss on his lips that it left
him with goose bumps. Everyone else had no doubts about who her
romantic interest was.

The crew howled and
whistled in good-natured flippancy.

Tony Banjo groaned, “That
figures. I finally find the perfect woman and her boyfriend is a
friggin spaceshuttle pilot.”

“
Don’t mind him, friend,”
George told Critias about Tony. “He’s just as horny as a stray dog
and don’t mean any offense.” He offered his gloved hand, “Name’s
George.”

“
No offense taken,”
Critias shook his hand. “You’ll come to find that Carmen is real
good at taking care of herself. We consider ourselves damn lucky
you came along when you did, risking your necks to help us out of
that jam. We were sweating tungsten slugs trying to figure out what
to do next.”

“
You’re more than
welcome,” George replied. “It’s always good to see new faces around
here. You have some nice armor there, makes you look like you know
what you’re doing out in the boonies. Maybe you’ll be joining us
the next time we’re out shopping for groceries.” He turned to Fat
Jack then pulled a huge chrome pistol from his pack. “I found
something for you, Jack.” He gave him the hefty handgun and an old
sock full of ammunition. “This one is still just like new. I don’t
think he ever fired it, which is too bad because he had a real nice
crib.”

One of the crew shouted
across the ship, “Bridges coming up, Jack!” The paddleboat would
soon pass under one of the enormous highway bridges that crossed
high over the river.

Fat Jack bellowed like a
pirate captain, “Bridge stations! You all know the routine so get
to your positions before I have to infect your asses with the toe
of my boot!” He waved for his black skinned female pilot to put his
paddleboat to maximum speed before they got directly under the
bridge. The paddlewheel spun up froth as the men ran to get under
cover as though they expected something to fall that might land on
their heads.

Infected did watch the
smoke from a long way off and those on the bridge waited in ambush.
The suicidally aggressive freaks timed their leaps as best they
could before they dived off to plummet down toward the boat like
bombs. The first three jumpers slammed into the water with bone
breaking impacts that sent up tremendous splashes. A fourth hit the
end of the hoist arm to snap its spine before it spun off into the
river. The fifth skydiving ghoul crushed in the hood of Critias’
truck, which blew out the windshield and broke most the bones in
its still furious body.

A second bridge crossed the
river just a little further ahead. Eight ghouls leaped from its
heights but Fat Jack’s change of speed and heading confused them
such that they all struck the water with the same high-flying
splashes.

Once clear of the bridges
and nearly at their destination, the crew used fire-hoses and
fishing gaffs to remove any blood and cast the body over the
side.

Chapter 5: Foragers’
Castle

Fat Jack’s destination was
just beyond the bridges and dead center on the riverfront at the
very heart of the metropolis’ downtown where all the city’s largest
buildings stood nearby in clear view. He berthed his paddleboat
against a much larger ship that they kept anchored just offshore
from an astounding monument that stood in the form of a gleaming
stainless-steel catenary arch the height of a skyscraper. That
mighty island-ship had a construction crane that was much grander
than the humble boom on the Thunder Child. The survivors had
covered their floating crane in armor that could repel any ghouls
who might ever manage to reach it out on the river, which seemed an
impossible feat in its own right, isolated as it was upon the
water.

Some of Jack’s crew used
the paddlewheeler’s boom to lift a portable bridge from the island
crane then position it between the two vessels. That movable bridge
allowed them to drive their Forager vehicles off onto the deck of
the island ship. The larger crane moved an even bigger mobile
bridge that allowed them to drive further from the artificial
island onto the nearby shore.

At some time in the not too
distant past, the greater river crane had lifted rusty barge hulks
then positioned them into two parallel barrier walls that sheltered
a roadway going inland. The near ends of the barges descended the
shore all the way to below the waterline where its roadway joined
with the end of the larger bridge when it was in place. Welders had
locked the steel barges together using massive lengths of chain and
thousands of metal construction rods. Fixed together as they were,
the river barges formed an insurmountable wall against ghoul
intrusion. Those same welding crews had attached thousands of
downward-angled kitchen knives, sharp spikes, and metal hooks along
the top and outer-face of their barrier to make it especially
difficult for the creatures to climb.

The smoke from the
paddleboat and the activity of its crew stirred up the local
infected so that they howled and tried to climb over the walls of
unsympathetic barges. The smooth steel plate with its tangle of
spurs proved excellent as it prevented them from making any
progress over it. Being unable to go over, the ghouls ran down
along the walls to the shore where they leaped into the river only
to have the brisk current sweep them away.

“
This is Foragers’
Castle,” Fat Jack told Critias and Carmen. “The secure portions are
all underground where we stay out of sight as much as possible. As
far as the infected are concerned, out of sight is out of mind, so
we need to work quickly. The less time we are visible to them the
better. If we take too long, they will start gathering in
uncontrollable numbers and then keep hanging around after we have
gone rather than wandering off as they normally do.”

Critias asked, “What do you
want us to do?” He stopped himself before he added a
sir.

Jack instructed, “You two
need to get into your truck then follow the directions of the work
teams. They all know what to do and without some training, you
would only be in their way. We will get you offloaded first then
catch up with you soon.”

While Critias waited for
the crews to move their bridges into place for the offloading, he
studied the city buildings that loomed up in the near distance.
None of the towers was as tall as the arching monument, but some of
them were gigantic nonetheless. The nearest building was an
antiquated cathedral and beyond that were lofty rectangular
towers.

Carmen pointed, “Look
there, vegetable gardens.”

She had the telescopic
vision of an eagle not that he needed that to see what she
indicated. The shadow of the monument nearly touched the foot of a
U-shaped building with its open side facing them. All the visible
windows were missing and in their place were steel bars filled with
hanging gardens of lush green. Critias could not make out their
plant species, but rightly assumed they were cultivated crops.
Every former opening on the building’s bottom two floors had walls
of brick that sealed them over. King Louie had transformed an old
hotel into a vertical farm, which ostensibly worked efficiently to
help feed his population.

One of Fat Jack’s men waved
for Carmen to drive so she started the truck then moved out. After
carefully negotiating the two bridges, she followed the roadway
between the barge-walls. The uphill inland ground from their track
was all forest with thick undergrowth comprised of tall grasses and
wild shrubbery that made the interior impenetrable to the eye. From
their viewpoint, they were almost directly beneath the stainless
steel monument with its legs that rose up from its secret enclosure
of woodland acreage. They could only marvel at the metallic arch’s
stupefying height and fulgent majesty. Their roadway soon turned
uphill toward that woodland as it followed a course that finally
came to a dead end at a wide wall of vegetation.

Critias closely examined
the wall before them and saw that in places that there were metal
bars behind the plants. It wasn’t so much a wall before them, but
actually more like a giant birdcage made of securely welded
piecemeal junk onto which a creeping vinery of bumblebee-infested
honeysuckle had not only insinuated itself, but also vigorously
flourished. Together they made the rugged scrap-metal vault opaque
to the eye, buzzing to the ear, and stinging to the
persistent.