Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI (28 page)

Luke accepted the stolid lawman’s explanation. “I believe you; last thing either of us need is a fight against a competent human military unit.”

“That would definitely be a waste in these times.”

Luke smiled warmly. “Every instinct I have is telling me your word is good, officer.”

Sanders returned the smile. “Call me Wyatt. Meet back here at noon? Bring a few of your people along if you want; I’ll arrange steaks for lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Luke replied. “I’ll bring cornbread, and a trusted friend or two. We’ll be unarmed.”

The Ranger suddenly looked alarmed. “Hell no, son, I can’t guarantee there’s no eaters in the area; the critters follow the river into our territory. You folks wear your damn weapons!”

Officer Sanders had just passed Luke’s final test. “Thank you, sir, I figured you’d say something like that.”

Sanders laughed with genuine mirth. “You’re a sharp one, kid; I’ll see you in a coupla hours. And call me Wyatt.”

John and Tina arrived in Vicksburg with more than a handful of prisoners from the Castle. They had an interesting lead on how Barnes was still managing to keep his aircraft fueled so long after the collapse of industrial civilization.

“Ever hear of Hydrotreated Renewable Jet fuel?” Tina looked from Jack to Carter. “Maybe the HEFA process?”

Both men stared at her blankly. “Yeah, well, neither had I. But it turns out that there’s been a lot of research into renewable jet fuels produced from organic materials like vegetable oils and animal fat. No surprise that the military was funding a lot of it.”

“So yer sayin’ that Barnes is able to make his own fuel for his choppers?” Carter scowled. “I guess it makes sense that if the bastard was plannin’ on controlin’ his flesh-eaters with aircraft, he’d of planned for keepin’ ‘em in the air.”

“Yeah, but there’s some good news.” Tina smiled at Jack. “Turns out there’s only one facility in the continental United States that was set up to produce this biofuel. It’s in Norco, Louisiana, not quite two hundred miles straight south of here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “On the Gulf?”

“Few miles west of New Orleans,” John replied, grinning. “It makes perfect sense if he can use ocean liners to move the fuel to either coast.”

“That’s a pretty big if, but I’ll never underestimate Barnes again.” Jack sat down to consider his next move. “We still need to salvage what we can from the Red River Depot, but I’ll have Harden put one of his guys in charge of that. We’re going to find out everything we can about Norco and what it takes to produce renewable jet fuel. There’s gotta be somebody in Vicksburg who knows something about that facility. Let’s take a couple days to do some research here before we go have a look for ourselves.”

“T.C.’s been minin’ computer hard drives for stored information that we might find useful,” Carter said with more than a little pride. “I’d be mighty surprised if he’s come across anythin’ ‘bout this place specifically, but he’s found digital copies of textbooks on computers raided from some community college. Those might be worth checkin’ out.”

Jack grabbed Carter’s hand. “I never thought I’d hear you volunteer to pick up a textbook; thank you, Carter, thank you—now I can die a happy man.”

“Git over yerself, Professor Smartass. If Barnes is makin’ fuel fer his choppers right here under our noses, we damn straight better stop ‘im sooner rather ‘an later. I’d read a whole freakin’ library tonight if it’d help ground that bastard.”

By early afternoon, the Ranger leader was Luke’s friend. Lunch was prepared and served by the officer’s wife and son, a very powerful sign that the lawman trusted the young captain. Luke was glad that he’d brought Gracie to the meeting—having family members present on both sides contributed to an especially congenial atmosphere. Wyatt had listened intently to tales of the early northern battles, the Vicksburg campaign, and the journey up the Red River. When Luke and Gracie shared the story of Jack Smith, beginning in Afghanistan, the lawman admitted that he’d heard the name mentioned by some of the refugees he’d met. That surprised Luke, but he realized it was only a matter of time before Jack was known across the continent, either as a liberator or heroic martyr.

Luke kept his sunglasses on during the first part of the meeting, but as dark clouds rolled in and everyone else took off their eyewear, he decided that the last thing he wanted was a misunderstanding if his shades accidentally slipped. “There’s one more thing you should know,” he began, glancing at over Gracie.

“Go on,” she encouraged. “I’ve told this story so many times—it’s definitely your turn.”

Luke told Wyatt about surviving the bite and showed him the scar; then, he warned the officer about his eyes before taking off his glasses.

The Ranger instinctively pulled back a few inches when he first saw Luke’s black, hunter-like eyes, but he didn’t leap to his feet or reach for a weapon. Finally, he composed himself enough to speak. “Damn, son, nobody’s ever survived a bite that I’ve heard about. You say they’ve been doin’ this out west?”

Luke shrugged. “Stories are all they are at this point; urban legends until I get out there and find another survivor. In the meantime, if I see anyone bitten on the arm or leg during a fight, I’ll try the same procedure used on me.”

“I’ll let my folks know what to expect when they get to see those eyes up close, and what was done that saved ya.” He sighed and looked away. “Don’t take this wrong, part of me hopes y’all figured out a way to give folks a chance, but another part of me hopes you’re just an outlier.”

Gracie nodded knowingly. “You’re thinking of all the people who might’ve been saved by the treatment . . .”

“Yep. I’ve watched a hell of a lot of good people die on my watch.”

“We have, too—” Gracie began.

“But we can’t worry about that now,” Luke cut in. “For all I know, the procedure only worked on me because I wasn’t bitten very long ago.  The strength of the virus might be fading, or it could be mutating.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some of our doctors speculatin’ about that, but it sure seems to me like the damn things just keep getting’ stronger and more dangerous. Of course, that’s probably not the newly infected.”

The two fighting men were quiet for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Luke felt like a hypocrite whenever anyone talked about the possibility that the infected were becoming more dangerous. There was no doubt that the hunters were still evolving, and increasing intelligence certainly did make some of them deadlier, but that was only a small piece of the puzzle. Luke didn’t regret putting down any hunter that attacked the convoy or preyed on humans, but there were other creatures out there that he knew he’d protect with his life.

The Ranger interrupted his thoughts. “Well, we haven’t been seein’ any major packs—you say you call em hunters, that’s a good name—since winter set in. We thought the cold weather was possibly killin’ ‘em, or maybe they’re hibernatin’ or somethin’ like that. The ones we’ve had to deal with lately seem bigger and stronger than they were in the early days. That causes me some worry—who knows how far they’ll progress? I mean, they still have the anatomy needed for speech, so what if they start talkin’ and develop some sort of language? That sure could complicate efforts to eliminate or control ‘em. And what if they start to breed?”

Luke was taken aback; he’d never really thought about any of the Ranger’s concerns. He was incredibly uncomfortable and completely speechless. Fortunately, Gracie responded to Wyatt.

“We worry about those things too, but it’s all speculation. The hunters are about the most terrifying things most people could have ever imagined, but their behavior is pretty predictable. They’re actually manipulated and controlled by the real enemy—Barnes, and the people who follow him, are the biggest threat. They’re the true monsters.”

Wyatt looked at Luke. “We’ve seen a few choppers over the past few months, but they’ve never been real close. I guess we’ve been luckier than we knew . . .”

Luke found his voice. “Unless and until you draw Barnes’ attention, I’d say you won’t have to deal with anything more than stray packs along your borders. As long as Jack is alive, and Utah’s a viable state, I doubt that Barnes will come after you guys. He seems to have a serious obsession with Jack, and I’m sure that Utah’s on his to-destroy list since they’ve given us so much help.”

“So . . .” Wyatt thought aloud. “My people are safer if this resistance army can continue the war against Barnes?”

“I obviously think so.” Luke turned to Gracie. “What do you think, dear?”

Gracie smiled warmly at the increasingly friendly lawman. “I’m not gonna lie to you; we believe that, eventually, Barnes will come after every settlement in America if we don’t stop him. That’s the purpose of the Allied Resistance. But at this point, I’d say your only near-term worry is if your territory somehow ends up in his way.”

Wyatt squinted as he pondered her response. “How would we end up in his way?”

“Well,” Gracie explained, “we destroyed Barnes’ main army at Vicksburg. Those hunters had been following the helicopters and eating as much as they wanted since at least early summer, and they’d been used to destroy quite a few fortified settlements east of the Mississippi and south of the Ohio. For lack of a better way to put it, they were well-trained and experienced. Now, Barnes has to start over building a new army, at least in the southeast. Why would he do that when he already used up a ton of his resources there? If I was him, my next army would be north of the Ohio or west of the Mississippi. And I’d look for areas with the highest pre-outbreak populations.”

The officer lifted his chin with an “ah-hah” expression on his weathered face. “And that wouldn’t be this area.”

Gracie nodded apologetically. “Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, those were some of the largest cities in the United States. But, I don’t know what his target would be if he harvested those places: Jack is a thousand miles north of here.”

“Utah ain’t exactly close-by, either,” Wyatt added.

“Nope,” Gracie agreed, “creating an army in Texas before Jack and Utah are dealt with doesn’t seem to make any sense. Barnes is a lunatic, but he’s not stupid. Plus, we really don’t know how many helicopters he has available; we haven’t seen it, but for all we know he might have the ability to gather several armies across the continent at the same time.”

The Texan was quietly contemplative for a long moment. “You two are too young to be this smart. Are you guys headin’ west because you think Utah might be the next target?”

Luke nodded. “Knowing Barnes, it’s the next logical place. Plus, umm, this is kind of hard to explain, but the people around me trust my feelings about these things. My gut tells me he’s going to hit Utah hard.”

The officer seemed nonplussed. “You mean the Holy Spirit prompts and guides you. Y’all are in Texas now; you don’t need to explain bein’ led by the Lord down here. We’ve got room enough for your troops to overnite in Denison if you’ll accept my hospitality. Folks around here will appreciate hearin’ your stories, and we may be able to find a way to help out your cause. I think this just might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

CHAPTER 23

Will and the hunters with him were following the river, shadowing Luke, staying well out of sight. Every now and then, Will sensed the presence of other packs, but he focused on keeping pace with Luke and the other humans. When the boats stopped and Luke joined the convoy on land, all the travelling hunters could smell the nearby human population. In the not too distant past, Will would have been excited—his hunger stimulated by an abundance of intoxicating Food. He no longer felt anything but revulsion at the thought of consuming humans; they were his brothers and sisters too. Will knew that his hunter-companions didn’t share these feelings, at least not yet. They didn’t remember what he remembered, and they still felt the pull of their hunger when they caught wind of their favorite food. Will knew their mouths even watered for the soldiers travelling with Luke, but they understood that those men and women were under the protection of the Strong One. Still, both Will and Luke appreciated the additional security afforded by water travel.

As Luke and Wyatt walked the streets of Denison under a gray sky and lightly falling snow, Luke noticed that the small city still displayed some of the gloomy features found in all post-outbreak towns. Fire had obviously taken root among more than a few of the community’s structures, but somehow the tenacious citizenry had smothered the flames and saved most of their homes. The survivors had obviously been toiling for months to clear the streets of vehicles and the inevitable thousands of corpses. Judging from the number of people moving about and the small streams of smoke floating skyward, the city contained more functional houses and buildings than even the next generation would be able to occupy. Luke estimated that Denison presently sheltered far more survivors than Vicksburg and Cairo combined, and that these rugged folks would be valuable allies in the war against Barnes.

When Luke asked how so many of the town’s inhabitants had lived through the violence and terror that accompanied the early spread of the virus, Wyatt frowned before answering in a sorrowful tone. “This town died like all the rest of ‘em in Texas, hell, the whole world. But people here had guns and a natural distrust of the federal government; they generally didn’t believe that the outbreak was being contained like the president and surgeon general claimed it was. We lost more’n half our population, but still did better than most municipalities. We eventually realized that a lot of folks was livin’ and campin’ around Lake Texoma just a few miles away when the virus hit, and plenty of refugees came pourin’ into the area after they realized the infected didn’t swim. Not long after this crazy winter set in, most of the people livin’ in tents and campers came into Denison and asked for shelter. So far, we’ve kept everyone occupied and reasonably well-fed. Right now, I’m the highest-rankin’ law enforcement official in the Lake Texoma region, but the council decided to put me in charge of military operations. Everythin’ from water and sanitation to policin’ is conducted through officers appointed by the council, but I can overrule them on military matters since martial law was declared before the government collapsed.”

And therefore,
Luke thought to himself,
you hold all the real power in this post-apocalyptic society. Eventually, some faction within the council will try to wrest that power from you. They’ll probably lose.

They walked past some of Maddy’s troops and exchanged salutes. “You’ve got an impressive group of soldiers,” Wyatt complimented. “How many did you have when you left Shreveport?”

“Just the four of us—the lieutenant you stopped this morning, Maddy, Gracie, and me.”

The Ranger let out a low whistle. “So all these soldiers are new to the army?”

Luke nodded. “We’ve been fortunate. We only accept single people of fighting age with the right brains and abilities, and train them to become cadre. After that, they religiously practice the skills we’ve taught them; we stop early every night for physical training and drill. That group will help train the rest and provide the sergeants for our squads and platoons. We teach and practice constantly, and focus on easy-to-learn skills until they can do them in their sleep.”

Wyatt was impressed. “I think I heard that Bruce Lee once said that he didn’t fear a man who knew ten thousand moves as much as a man who practiced one move ten thousand times.”

Luke smiled. “I heard something like that too, and that’s exactly how we train ourselves and our soldiers; we completely master a skill before moving on.”

“Makes sense, but still, based on what I saw when we first met, your troops look disciplined as hell for such a short time in the service.”

“Oh, they are,” Luke admitted. “They can form up into fighting position quickly and correctly, and they’ll stand and fight like veterans with their spears and pikes; nobody has run in any of our fights.”

“What would they have done if my men had charged them this mornin’?”

Luke didn’t really want to answer that question, but he also thought that Wyatt deserved an honest reply. “We’re committed to medieval weaponry and tactics, so they would have injured and killed your horses with pikes and spears before using halberds to hook your men out of their saddles. Once on the ground, most of the killing would have been done with short swords and bludgeons of some type.”

“But we’d have hurt you guys some—”

“Absolutely,” Luke cut in, “especially if your troops are trained to stop out of pike range and take a good shot with their muzzleloaders. The revolvers would have killed and wounded some of my soldiers as well. But even if your bullets dropped half my fighters, which according to battlefield data from the past would be virtually impossible combat accuracy, the troops left standing would have closed ranks and carried on. But that’s just Zach’s company. Maddy’s unit has two platoons of crossbow-troops, and they’re experienced. They were on their way when I arrived, and you would have had just a minute or two until their fire took you in the flank.”

The Ranger was quiet for a minute, then he stopped in his tracks as Gracie waved, then jogged to catch up with them. He looked at Luke. “Think about how deadly you’d be if you had cavalry like mine guardin’ your flanks; you wouldn’t have to worry about getting’ caught out in the open anymore.”

Gracie’s eyes grew wide when she heard Wyatt’s remarks. “I’d love to have some horse troops, but muzzleloaders that could be used as shotguns might be even better—you should see what a twelve-gauge loaded with double-ought does to massed hunters.”

“Actually,” the lawman remembered, “I saw somethin’ like that in the early days, when we still had ammo. We blew those monsters to pieces.”

“Those things saved my bacon a couple of times in the first few months after the outbreak,” Luke recalled. “Do you know if they make black-powder shotguns?”

“I’m sure they do, whoever ‘they’ are, but I don’t know of any ever mass-produced before the collapse. I’m thinkin’ that you would use somethin’ like that at point blank range just to blunt a charge?”

“That’s what I was thinking . . .” Luke began.

“Well, there are tons of old-school muzzleloaders in our territory that nobody really bothers with. They might’ve looked like old muskets to you. The main difference between old school and new is that the hammer and cap are exposed in the old-school models.”

“I’ve seen ‘em,” Luke remembered. “Can’t you build one from a kit?”

“Yep, they used to sell Kentucky Rifle kits that were really easy to put together. So anyway, yeah, there’re a lot of those around. I think you could use any muzzleloader as a shotgun as long as you figure out the right powder charge and use waddin’ to keep the buckshot in the breech. But the reason I mentioned the old-school guns is because we have hundreds of ‘em we could trade, or hell, maybe even loan to your army if you wanted ‘em. We could even throw in some homemade gunpowder, but you’ll need to remember that it’s no good for modern cartridges.”

“Thith plathe ith awesome,” Gracie said while brushing her teeth for the third time. She spit into the sink. “Real toothpaste. I didn’t know how much I’d missed real toothpaste.” She looked at Luke in the mirror. “I know you aren’t the overly emotional type, but I don’t understand why you’re not jumping for joy given what Wyatt’s offered to do for us.”

Luke put his arms around Gracie’s waist and smiled at their reflection. “Hey, I totally love this place, and I’m thrilled about getting our hands on some old muzzleloaders.”

Gracie eyed him sideways. “You don’t seem thrilled.  For the past couple weeks, you’ve been sorta distant and preoccupied. Are you worried that we won’t be able to stop Barnes after all?”

“Barnes probably has more tricks up his sleeve than we can imagine, but I still feel like he’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

“So am I just imagining that something’s bothering you?”

Luke sighed. “No, I do have a lot on my mind—things I’m trying to figure out. I was going to tell you about it once I’d worked through everything, but it’s complicated.”

Gracie took Luke by the hand and led him into the bedroom. They sat facing each other on the bed. “You know you can tell me anything,” she said quietly. “And whatever you say can stay just between us.”

“I’m not even sure where to start,” Luke began. “You know about the dreams I have sometimes, and how I was able to, uh, communicate with that hunter the day we rescued Terry.”

Gracie nodded. “Yeah, we talked about that.”

“Well, it didn’t end there. He and I had some sort of connection after that. Some of my dreams are actually his . . . memories.” Luke stopped and drew a long breath.

Gracie looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure I understand—are you saying that hunters remember battles and feeding like you and I remember what we did yesterday or what we had for lunch?”

“No—well that may be true, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Luke shifted his weight on the bed. “Will remembers his life as a human.”

Gracie let out a small gasp, and in a tiny voice said just one word, “Will?”

Luke reached out and took Gracie’s hand in his. “Yeah, Will. William Walker—he’s from Indiana. He played football for Notre Dame, and then he was drafted by the Cowboys. He was married, and he had a child . . .” Luke’s voice trailed off, and tears welled up in his eyes. Talking about this part was too hard. He refocused and shifted direction. “Anyway, Will and a few others are following us, at a respectable distance. He’s the only one who remembers his past life, but some others are becoming more self-aware.”

Gracie was pale and shaken. “There are hunters following us? What do you mean by self-aware? How do you know that your dreams are Will’s memories?” She stood up and began to pace around the room.

“You need to trust me, Gracie. I know.”

Gracie talked a mile a minute as she continued pacing. “First of all, you should have said something sooner—this is a freakin’ big deal. But never mind about that right now; I can’t imagine how awful it would be for a hunter to have memories of  . . . Jesus, I know I’d just kill myself . . . so if the hunters are gaining self-awareness, can Barnes still control them? Do they still want to hunt us and eat us? We’ve run across hundreds of hunters lately, and I haven’t seen any evidence of . . . oh—” she remembered the creatures who tried to open the truck doors, “so they still want to eat us, but they can think and plan . . .”

Luke stood and blocked Gracie’s path. “Slow down—now you know why I said this is complicated. There’s more you need to know.”

“More?” Gracie’s eyebrows shot up.

“I don’t have it all figured out, but I know that most of the hunters are just what they’ve always been—instinct driven super-predators, packs of killing machines for Barnes . . . but some of them are evolving differently. Some of them are becoming . . . individuals.  Even so, all of them are connected in some way, and I’m connected somehow too. And the ones I can actually communicate with see me as some sort of super-alpha, a leader of leaders—”

“Wait—you’re the one who needs to slow down. First of all, how do you communicate with them?”

“Sometimes we talk—”

“Speech?!” Gracie squeaked.

“I do most of the talking, and really only with Will,” Luke quickly explained. “And I understand that kind of communication. There’s also some sort of . . . I don’t know, telepathy? That’s probably not the right word; it’s not like a mental conversation. I just get a sense of what they’re thinking, or what they know; I really don’t know how to explain it, Gracie.” He sighed in exasperation. “It’s like my mind can tune in to the hunter channel—an occasionally interactive hunter channel.”

Gracie blinked a few times, then embraced Luke. She pulled back and gazed at him with a serious expression. “You’re going to think I’m weird, but I think I might be able to explain what’s happening to you.”

Luke laughed out loud. “I tell you that I can communicate with hunters, and that they think I’m one of their leaders, and I’m going to think that
you’re
weird?” 

Gracie smiled and shrugged. “Whatever. I know I told you that my dad was kinda mystical—like you. He led a multi-faith study group on Wednesday evenings that covered lots of different spiritual topics, and I remember one time they were focusing on Kabbalah, and there was this grad student—he was super-handsome—who talked about why he was trying to reconnect with his spiritual side.”