Mortal: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (32 page)

As he neared the dark blue DHS Black Hawk where he figured
he’d find her, the moon peeked from behind high, scudding clouds, washing a
single engine Cessna and a lone Bell Jet Ranger helicopter in its brassy yellow
glow.

After a short search, he found her sitting in the grass,
legs drawn underneath her, back braced against the helicopter Cade had procured
for Duncan a week prior.

He ducked under the camouflage netting draped over the rotor
blades and sat on the grass, his shoulder touching hers. “What’s going on?” he
asked.

She said nothing. Only burrowed in close against his warmth.

Daymon savored the moment. He kissed the crown of her head.
Breathed in the scent he knew so well, which was slightly masked by the
distinct odor of wood smoke clinging to both of them. And when she didn’t
respond, he stared off into the dark, fearful she was about to divulge more details
about her ordeal at the mansion.

They sat listening to a cricket’s scratchy serenade and the
distant murmur of people talking around the fire. After a handful of minutes
Heidi finally broke the silence. “Sorry I stormed away.”

“No worries,” he replied.

“What Tran said back there surprised me ... I was in a good
frame of mind for once, and didn’t have my defenses up. Then he had to go and
mention Bishop—” She threw a violent shudder that wasn’t a by-product of the
chill in the air. “—I lost it.”

Daymon asked, “Anything I can do for you right now?”

“I’m OK,” she said, looking away. “I need to learn how to
stop stuffing my feelings. That’s all.”

“Heidi,” he said, looking her in the eyes. They were moist
and tears were running down her cheeks. “Anything at all ... I’m not good at
this intuitive stuff so you have to let me know.”

“I didn’t mean to take it out on Tran.” She went silent for
a moment. “But Bishop—” she went on, putting a sharp edge to her words. “—I
want
anyone
connected to him and that house on the bluff either
six-feet-under or walking the earth without a pulse.”

Feeling the steady beat of Heidi’s head thumping the
helicopter resonating through his body, Daymon said, “At least you know Lucas
and Liam are dead. That’s a good start.”

“And I have Tran to thank for it. But now that I know Bishop
is still out there ... changes everything. With or without you, I don’t feel
safe here.”

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Daymon said. “And if he shows up
here we’ll run him off.”

“I thought your friend Cade was going to be here.”

“That’s what he said. Something must have come up. If he’s
not here by tomorrow I’ll call him.”

“I thought the phone he gave you died.”

“Logan found a compatible charger in his box of electronic
odds and ends. Thing’s so full of wires and stuff looks like he looted a Radio
Shack.”

The low voices began to fade and Daymon could see dark forms
passing in front of the dying fire. Embers flared and angry orange sparks shot
towards the heavens as someone stirred the coals. From the way the form was
stooped over, he presumed it was Duncan.

“When I talk to Cade I’ll fill him in about Bishop.”

“How is he going to help?”

“Can’t be sure he will. He was on a mission to apprehend
Robert Christian last time I saw him. I dropped his team off at the mansion so
I figure he kind of owes me one.”

“I don’t want anyone to know what happened to me at the
mansion, let alone a stranger.”

“I can understand that,” Daymon said. “I’ve got something I
need to get off of my chest. Something I’ve been keeping inside since the day I
met Cade.” He talked about being trapped in the attic of the farmhouse in
Hanna, Utah. Sparing none of the details, he told her how the lawyer, Hosford
Preston, had gotten the three of them trapped. Then he admitted how he’d had a
breakdown in his core values he’d never be able to forget.

“You didn’t put the man out of his misery?” Heidi said
incredulously. “I’ve seen you kill twenty rotters at once without even batting
an eye.”

“That’s different, There’s nothing in their eyes. They’re
not human anymore.” He paused and took a deep breath. Looked away towards the
dying fire. “Hosford was still alive. He was already bitten but he was still
alive. Cade said, ‘Shoot him,’ but I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I was pissed at him for getting me trapped with my thoughts
and my claustrophobia in that fucking hot and stuffy attic. It was black as
night up there.” His breathing quickened. “So I let the monsters have him.”

Shaking her head, Heidi asked, “That’s not you, Daymon.” She
sat up straight. “Does Cade know?”

“He seemed pissed at the lawyer too.”

“Pissed enough to let him suffer?”

“He was fucked anyway. One bite’s a death sentence. It just
seemed right at the time.”

“Doesn’t make it right, Daymon.”

“I know,” he whispered.

She held him for a few minutes, then, with her left hand,
tugged his shirt from the front of his pants where the leather belt was cinched
tighter than she’d ever seen it. “You lost a lot of weight,” she stated.

He sat up straight as her right hand pushed under his fleece
shell and then between the tee shirt and his skin. “Does this hurt?” she asked,
tracing a finger across the raised scars while imagining, in her mind’s eye,
the thick pink cords of mending flesh.

“Not anymore, thanks to Jenkins,” he said. “Who would have
thought a salve meant for horses would work so well?”

“Former 4H member Charlie Jenkins, that’s who,” she said,
throwing a true shiver against the nighttime chill.

A sly smile curled Daymon’s lip.
Ammunition
, he
thought.
Let the hazing begin
. Although he respected Jenkins and Gus and
Cade and men like them, he still received a great deal of satisfaction from
finding chinks in their armor. He supposed it was because firefighters had
always deferred to the authority of lawmen, and this was his way of playfully
letting them know that the playing field had been leveled. Just then he felt a
vibration on his leg. He pulled his shirt and fleece back into place, fished
the Motorola from his thigh pocket, and thumbed the talk button. “Daymon,” he
said.

“Coming inside?” came Duncan’s soft drawl followed by a
little electronic squelch.

“Gimme five,” was Daymon’s reply.

“That’s
all
the time you’re gonna need?” the grizzled
aviator quipped.

Daymon made no reply. Only listened to Duncan’s trademark
cackle for a second, then silenced the radio.

“What a
dick
,” said Heidi as she rose. “I thought you
said he was one of the good guys.”

“He’s not so bad. Just likes to bust my balls,” said Daymon.
“Probably didn’t think you were listening.”

“Let’s get back. I’ll put some more salve on your wounds.”

“Is that all?” Daymon asked, a mischievous tone to his
voice.

Heidi made a face in the dark.

“That
is
all ...
for now
,” she answered
quietly. “It’s still too soon.”

He held the netting and let Heidi pass. He followed suit and
they walked hand-in-hand towards the foreboding black wall of trees demarking
the clearing’s edge. Alert to any out-of-place sounds or odors, Daymon kept his
head moving on a swivel as the moonlight-washed clearing disappeared behind
them. Then, with the gnarled branches seemingly reaching and clutching for him,
he slowed his pace, looking longingly over his shoulder at the flat earth and
grass. Finally, he gazed up at the infinite openness of the nighttime sky and
was suddenly compelled to turn around, find a spot in the tall grass and sleep
out in the open. He wouldn’t let on, but truth be told he feared the
metal-walled embrace of the low-ceilinged Conex container. He feared having
tons of topsoil symbolically pressing the air from his lungs. Fighting the
initial stirrings of his ever-present claustrophobia, he took point in front of
Heidi and fumbled his way in the dark towards the compound’s hidden entrance.
Once there, a predetermined series of knocks gained them entry.

Outbreak - Day 17

West of the Rockies

Wondering what his second-in-command and old friend Carson
was doing at the moment, Bishop rolled over and peered out the window and
across the lake where the partial moon was reflected off its shimmering
surface.

The king-sized bed he had commandeered was empty and would
remain so until the right woman came along. He’d already made a pact with
himself that she’d have to be the one to approach him. He was not Robert
Christian. And, though he was no stranger to brutality and killing, taking a
woman against her will was something he didn’t partake in.

However it was something he’d learned to turn a blind eye to
where his troops were concerned. Carson and Joshua knew where he stood on this,
and were instructed to keep the men under them in control and the practice out
of his sight. But as the old saying went,
boys will be boys
. And they
had been
boys
with a handful of the locals, undoing all of the inroads
they’d already made by purging the area of zombies for miles around. Truth be
told, he hadn’t ordered his men to waste bullets on the monsters to gain favor
with the locals. He just couldn’t stand to look at one for even a second.
Out
of sight, of mind
was his new motto.

So in addition to sterilizing the area, his men, with help
from the locals, had fortified the lake road, blocking entrance to the
creatures but also to the rightful owners of the lakefront properties on either
side of his new home.

And the reason he couldn’t sleep was the vulnerability he
felt with his most trusted men away and the underlying current of hostility
growing stronger with each passing day.

He looked at the nightstand and for a beat thought about
picking up the sat phone and recalling Carson and the boys from their foraging
mission. Then as quickly as the impulse had come, it was gone.
Hell
, he
thought to himself.
You’ve spent your entire career behind enemy lines. How
is this any different?

He rolled out of bed. Padded to the humongous walk-in
closet, and selected from the former owner’s wardrobe a pair of plain gray
sweatpants and a similar long-sleeved sweatshirt—both a size too small.
Squeezed into them, and as penance for allowing fear to even crack the door,
left his pistol by the bed and went for a midnight jog around the lake.

Colorado Springs

Though it was full dark, for Sergeant Eckels to see the
action in front of him, night vision goggles weren’t necessary. The
half-mile-long funeral pyre lit up everything for blocks around and cast a
soft, dome-like glow over the entire battlefield.

He stood outside his command vehicle and watched the
squirter teams in their M-ATVs engaging small groups of Zs that had
inadvertently escaped over the rubble and concertina barriers, their
top-mounted CROW turrets dishing out quick bursts of second death.

He popped another AMP. Took a long pull and felt the instant
caffeine rush hit his system. It was almost the same feeling he’d enjoyed
earlier when he found out all of his teams had made it back here—to the final
rally point—without a single casualty. His chest swelled with pride at the way
they’d executed his plan as designed. Then he made himself a mental note to
thank Major Greg Beeson for the heavy-metal-music-idea the next time they
crossed paths.

Finally, he drained the last of his AMP energy drink in one
gulp and then said loud enough so that all of the soldiers standing nearby
could hear, “Good job, men. Now mount up. The night’s still young and our job
is far from over.”

Schriever AFB

Cade had been awake since first light. Already he’d written
the after action report for the Winnipeg mission and then, after handing it off
to Airman Davis, he’d gotten a ride to the lonely corner of the airbase where
Desantos and Maddox were buried and put some more of his friends and teammates
into the ground.

Now, hours later, sore and sleep-deprived, he sat on the
bottom bunk adjusting the Velcro straps on the orthopedic boot Brook had
scrounged up for him the night before. He strapped on the thigh holster and
snugged the Glock 17 home. He looked for a handhold above his head suitable to
haul himself off the bed but found nothing.

“Raven,” he called out.

“Yeah Dad.”

“Will you please bring me my crutches? Your mom propped them
by the door when she left.”

Repeating something she’d no doubt heard him say to her a
thousand times she called back, “You leave them laying around?”

Cade made no reply to that. No use. Because he had no good
defense.

Max rounded the corner ahead of Raven. He came right up and
sniffed the black monstrosity wrapping Cade’s ankle.

“I’m a robot dog catcher, better watch it.” To which Max
growled and backed away.

“Where’d Mom go?”

“Mess hall. But she said she’d send Davis to give me a
ride.”

After handing over the crutches, Raven asked, “Where are you
going?”

“Got a couple of errands to run. How about we drop you by so
you can light a fire under your friends.”

“That wouldn’t be nice,” she said, taking him a little too
literally.

“OK. Let me rephrase that,” he said as he rose unsteadily
from the low-slung bunk. “So you can make sure they’re good and ready and
packed when we all come by to get them later.”

“I can do that. Can Max come?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I leave now, ride my bike over there?”

Teetering on the edge of saying no, Cade said, “Yes ... if
you take Max. But be careful and hurry back. I’ll leave mom a note so she
doesn’t freak.”