Mortal: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (31 page)

Jamie leaned in, pushed a stray strand of dark hair into her
watch cap, and walked her gaze from one person to the next before settling on
Duncan, whom, in the short span of time since he’d been at the compound, had
become the go-to guy for advice amongst the group. “I say we go in quiet and
slice their fucking throats,” she hissed, the licking flames sharpening her
already-angular features. With her eyes still fixed on Duncan, she went on.
“I’m looking at this thing from a woman’s point of view,” she said, throwing a
quick glance in Jordan’s direction. “There is no doubt in my mind that those
hillbillies we got the jump on at the hunting cabin the other day were part of
the gang we ambushed today. Same brand new Toyota SUVs. Same MO, the way they
had Jordan zip-tied and hooded. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce what kind of
party they had planned for her. And then from Chief and Lev’s description of
what happened at the Gudsons’ property the other day ... where once again they
were driving the same new SUVs and a couple of National Guard Humvees—it all
seems to tie them to the dead National Guard soldiers Duncan and Phil found at
the roadblock. But what I can’t shake. What really pisses me off and makes me
want to act”—she paused, neck veins bulging, all eyes on her—“is what those
animals did to Mr. Gudson and his little boy.” Her words trailed off quietly,
and with a rare display of emotion she choked up and then, offering no resistance,
she allowed Logan to pull her in close. After a tick she shrugged off his arm,
palmed away the tears, and then finished her thought. “My mind keeps going to
Mrs. Gudson and her teen daughter. Where are they? Are they still alive? And if
they are, what’s happening to them
right now
? I
really
don’t want
to know the answer to that. Although I think I already do. But you know what?
If we stay here with our thumbs up our asses and do nothing, we might as well
expect the same treatment when they return and we find ourselves with our backs
against the wall. We’re on the side of
good
... that means we help the
other
good folks
—or die trying.” Jamie had locked eyes with Lev as she
delivered the ‘or die trying’ part of her sermon slash appeal slash call to
action. She softened her gaze and then melted into Logan, awaiting a rebuttal
from the young combat veteran.

Taking the high road and choosing not to confront the young
woman’s opinion here or now, Lev rose slowly, shouldered his AR-15 and walked
in the direction of the compound’s camouflaged entrance.

Sensing the tension in the air, Heidi tightened her grip on
Daymon’s bicep. He gave her a sidelong glance, a quick smile to put her at
ease, and resumed following the group’s conversation, waiting for the right time
to mention Cade Grayson’s impending arrival.

Meanwhile, Jenkins, who had been listening intently to
Jamie’s heartfelt declaration, peeled away from the LE—Law Enforcement—huddle
and claimed a spot a foot closer to the fire. Save for the occasional hiss and
pop from veins of pitch cooking off inside the wood, the clearing was quiet. It
was if the group had taken a collective breath and had yet to exhale. He looked
at the sad sight of Tran warming his battered and broken body by the fire. Then
he passed his gaze over the men and women he’d known for only a short time:
Seth, Phillip, Logan, and the two women—Jamie and Jordan—all of who seemed
capable and had automatic rifles lying by their feet. Finally he locked eyes
with Duncan—the fella, he noted, who people seemed to look up to.

“As much as I’d like to see those vermin eradicated. We’ve
got to be careful and not act on emotion—not develop a case of tunnel vision.
Because it’s not only the living we have to contend with,” Jenkins said in a
low voice. “We’re going to need all the firepower we can rustle up. Except for
the one fortified town we passed through ... Etna, if I remember correctly,
everywhere else between Jackson Hole and this compound was abandoned and
teeming with walking corpses ... or
rotters,
as you all call them. I
hate to sound glum but we are on our own. And I don’t mean just
us
”—he
thrust his hand out palm down and made a swirling motion with his arm which
seemed to signify everyone in attendance—“I mean the entire
country
is
on its own, and that means the U.S. Army is
not
going to reconstitute
itself any time soon—if ever—and come rolling through here and restore order.
And lastly ... there is a ruthless and vicious killer on the loose.” He went on
to describe the siege of Jackson Hole, Robert Christian’s hostile takeover, and
how merciless Ian Bishop, the former Navy SEAL, had been when meting out
punishment in order to keep the population in line. Without thinking about
Heidi’s ordeal in the ‘Valley of the Crosses’, as Daymon had deemed it, Jenkins
included a very graphic description of the hundred or so people he had seen
crucified next to the Teton Pass road. “Ian Bishop escaped Jackson Hole alive,
and I’d bet he and his paramilitary group went west, not east.”

“I concur,” added Daymon. “I’ve seen his handiwork. That
fucker is pure evil, and if any of you cross paths with him, you’ll see what I
mean; he and his men will make the goons you’ve been dealing with look like a
church group.”

There was silence.

“I agree,” Duncan finally said. “We’ve got to be very
careful whenever we venture away from the compound.” He paused and looked over
at the newly-arrived former Police Chief of Jackson Hole, who had been forced
by Christian and Bishop to keep the locals in line. “I can think of no good reason
Bishop would set up shop
closer
to Colorado Springs,” he went on. “If I
were him and I’d just jabbed a stick in the eye of the United Stated
government, I’d surely go the other way as fast as possible. Somewhere densely
wooded and sparsely populated with an airport or airstrip nearby.”

“I would be willing to bet the farm that he’s set up shop
somewhere along the Idaho/Washington border,” Jenkins said. “I’ve had dealings
with him. He ain’t stupid. And by that I mean he’s nowhere near the coast.
Hell, seventy-five percent of the world’s population lives near a coast.”

“And there’s no way he’d go anywhere near any of the big
cities,” said Chief. “Too many rotters ... that’d be same as committing
suicide.”

Leaning in towards the fire, Jamie said, “Why in the hell
are we even talking about some dick that we have no reason to believe is
anywhere near here?”

Surprising everyone, Tran sat forward in his low-slung
folding chair and said forcefully, “Because you need to be afraid of the man.
He
is
nearby and he
is
pure
evil
.”

All heads turned and all eyes fell on the slight Asian man,
whom Daymon’s small group had come across on the outskirts of Victor, Idaho. He
had been in the back seat of Daymon’s old International Scout, unconscious,
bloodied, and battered, and looking every bit as bad as one of the walking
dead—the latter of which had almost earned him a face full of hot lead.
However, mere seconds from leaving this world, Tran had snapped out of his
stupor and asked for help, a feat the dead were not capable of, but a simple
act nonetheless that spared his life on the spot. But the fact that Tran had
been Robert Christian’s Boy Friday didn’t sit well with Jenkins and Daymon.
Finally, it was Heidi’s revelation that Tran had eschewed the violence and
bloodlust the billionaire’s henchmen regularly engaged in that mellowed the
contempt both men felt towards him, and the sole reason he was here with them
now.

So after saying only a handful of words during the entire
trip from Victor to the road outside the compound, and then having spoken only
half as much since being welcomed here, Tran stunned everyone around the
campfire by going on to say, “I think I know where Ian Bishop is.”

There was another short span of silence followed by Heidi
springing to her feet. “Spit it out, goddammit,” she cried as she stalked
around the ring of stones toward Tran, who was still sitting down.

Feeling his stomach go cold, Daymon stretched his lanky
frame, found solid footing and rose to his feet. He approached Heidi, who was
standing over Tran and obviously waiting for an answer to her question. Daymon
grasped her hand and, after a little resistance, gently guided her back to her
seat.

After watching with rapt attention, Duncan tipped his beer,
draining the suds onto the dirt.

“The lady said spit it out,” he drawled, staring directly at
Tran.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tran told them everything he’d
overheard during his time at the ‘house’ in Jackson Hole. And though he
couldn’t speak to who was with Bishop nor pinpoint his location accurately by
name or a GPS coordinate, he did say unequivocally that Northern Idaho was a
place they should avoid at all costs.

“Whole lotta help that was, Tran,” said Lev. “I’m no map
maker but I’d guess the Idaho panhandle has got to be several thousand square
miles of mostly rugged terrain. Locating this Bishop would be like trying to
find a needle in a haystack.”

“Proving my point, Lev. Like I said ... who the eff cares
about Bishop until he’s our problem. I say we clean house close to home first.”

“Jamie is right,” interjected Logan. “All in favor of
dealing with Huntsville first raise a hand.” He put his hand up, looked around,
and counted silently in his head. “In favor of hunting down Bishop?”

Only Heidi’s hand went up.

“The majority has spoken,” stated Logan. “I’m sorry Heidi,
but that’s how we’ve agreed to make any decision affecting the entire group.”

“So it’s settled,” added Duncan. “We hope the bastard stays
away for now and continue to forage and get the compound ready for winter.”

Heidi leapt up, said, “Fuck it,” and stormed toward the
moonlit clearing in the distance.

The reaction was exactly what Duncan had expected. Knowing
there would be a time and a place to worry about the Bishop fella, and
accepting that the time was not now or here, he bit his tongue and watched the
blonde disappear into the shadows. Once she was gone, he met Daymon’s gaze,
nodded at the younger man, and made himself a mental note to follow up with him
later.

“Wait a sec,” Daymon called out, trying to free himself from
the poorly-balanced camp chair. Once he’d untangled his legs he sprinted off
into the gloom.

Logan made a face and then looked up through the canopy at
the field of stars winking light years away. “I’ve got an idea. It’s a long
shot but worth a try,” he said, shifting his weight to the edge of his chair.
“If we’re going back to Huntsville we’re going to need better gear. More
firepower, and something to help us to see in the dark.”

“Is there a Cabela’s nearby that I don’t know about?” asked
Gus.

“No, sadly, there is not a Cabela’s nearby, let alone a
K-Mart that wasn’t ransacked early on. But a couple of months after I bought
this land, I was in town trying to find an excavator to dig the holes for the
Conex containers and to prep the clearing for the airstrip and the like, but I
kept having to compete with this crotchety old guy named Lenny who was also
making preps for the Y2K bug. Bastard was always renting the earth-moving
equipment I needed right out from under me—”

Cutting Logan off, Duncan said, “Hate to interrupt your
yarn, baby bro, but cut to the chase. Is Lenny alive or isn’t he? Been over a
decade since you broke ground here. And just how do you think your former
competition is going to be of any help to us now?”

“It was the whole sneaking in and slitting their throats
thing Jamie said that gave me the idea. Figure the fella might have some night
vision equipment he will loan me. If he’s still alive, that is. He’s gotta be
seventy or so by now. I’ll see if I can find what ham frequency he transmits on—”

“You haven’t contacted him since this thing started?” asked
Gus. “Not even for a welfare check?”

“Not that kind of a relationship,” added Logan, shaking his
head. “We were kinda prepping adversaries. He was expecting more of a fight
from the authorities than I was, if you know what I mean.”

Lev poked his nose into the exchange. “What makes you think
he will just hand over the goggles?”

“He’s not a bad guy. He’s just reclusive ... used to live in
Huntsville, so if he’s no longer there then he’s got nothing in common with the
brigands who are. Stands to reason he’d be more than willing to help out if I
word my proposal the right way. We might even be able to barter with the man.
Give him something he needs ... maybe a shiny new Toyota.”

Duncan leaned in and said, “So where is his place, Logan?”

“I don’t know exactly but I have a good idea. I remember
seeing him towing an excavator eastbound down 39 behind a big Dodge pickup. For
some reason it stayed with me that the excavator’s tracks were clean at the
time. Then the next day when I was in town at the
Rents All
place
waiting for him to return the thing so I could get my hands on it, he brought
it in and caught hell because the tracks were still caked with
red
dirt.
And I think I know where to find that type of dirt.”

“Finish yer never-ending story,” drawled Duncan. “I’m
getting sleepy.”

Logan added a few more details and then excused himself.
Whether or not he had saved the scribbled numbers that would make finding the
retreat that much easier was the biggest unknown. What with a bunch of new
people pulling duty in the security and communications container, he feared
anything could have happened to the scrap of paper on which he’d written the
man’s ham radio handle and frequency on.

Eden Compound

Searching for Heidi, Daymon left the flickering campfire
behind and made his way towards the far edge of the clearing where the aircraft
were parked.