That seemed rather petty and juvenile, but then again, from my brief encounter with Randy (he was what Billy would call a total douche) I guess I should not have expected anything different. Her body was a few feet away and part of me was actually surprised that it did not look as if they had done anything other than kill Suzi. The headless corpse was still fully clothed and seemed intact. I searched the pockets but did not find anything.
It seemed that this little trip had been all for nothing. A low moan from behind me made me turn. Standing a few feet away were six zombies. These all looked relatively new and even in the waning light of the moon I could see the glisten of wetness on a few of them that stood as testament to that likelihood. While I could easily jog away and ditch this group, I did not want them dictating my course and waded in to take them out.
The first couple went down easy, but by the time I brought my blade up to jam into the side of the head of the third zombie, I was discovering that the ones not yet dispatched were so close that I was in danger of being grabbed by one or more of the remaining zombies before I could finish them off. In short, this was one of those times that presented a perfect example of why you aren’t supposed to go out into the wilderness by yourself.
A cold hand brushed my forehead, knocking my field hat off as I ducked. Another hand grabbed my collar and I dropped to the ground out of reflex. I was able to kick one of the zombies in the ankles and knock it over. Unfortunately, the other one pounced (or just sort of flopped) on top of me. The third and final zombie remaining was not visible, and that was the one I was most worried about. Not being able to see it had me whipping my head around while simultaneously grabbing the one on top of me by the throat and shoving its head up so I could thrust my blade under the chin and into its brain pan.
I shoved that one off of me, momentarily losing my knife in the process. I grabbed the blade on my right hip (always wear at least three is the norm according to the field training I went through back at Platypus Creek) and hopped over the one I’d just ended. In one swift thrust, I took down the other one before it could make it to its feet.
That left one.
This zombie had been an elderly man. I had to guess him to be in his sixties at least. Apparently my concerns for this one had been misplaced. He had gotten his leg stuck in the mud of the nearby creek. More accurately, he had gotten his prosthetic leg stuck and lost it. Now the zombie was crawling on his belly and not making much headway in the thick muck. I didn’t bother and quickly retrieved the one knife I’d lost in the fray before moving on.
With Suzi dead, I figured that there would be a lot of questions I would never get answered now. One of the biggest that I think will haunt me forever is the story with Hunter. I had been so gullible and believed that he was trying to help me. Of course, seeing the world through those eyes, I had also assumed that Suzi was evil. Now I did not know who was good, who was bad, and if I could trust anybody.
The only thing that I had managed to do on this run was endanger Kayla. (Although, in my defense, she did come after me and refused to return back home when I told her to go.) Oh…and I could confirm that Jackson was dead.
At the very least, I needed to have something concrete to return home with so that Billy did not figuratively skin me alive. That left the army. If I could actually confirm that they were basically shattered, then that would at least be something. Of course then there would be the whole thing about people being pissed for having packed for nothing, but that was small potatoes by comparison.
Staying in the shadows as much as possible and skirting the increasing number of zombies that were wandering about, I veered towards a small bluff that would allow me to look out over where the camp had been situated according to my last recollection. I don’t know what I expected; I do know that it was not at all close to what greeted me.
There were fires burning everywhere. Not the campfires of before, but instead I could see tents and carts all burning. Some of the zombies were ablaze to varying degrees and only adding to the chaos. Very little of the movement that I saw down there was of the living variety.
Somehow, it seemed as if the entire army had imploded on itself. Dawn was slowly breaking, and as the sun washed over the scene, I got an even better eyeful of what had gone down. There could be no doubt that many of the dead were due to a battle. There were areas strewn with groups of bodies without a zombie in the bunch.
I was conflicted. Part of me was really happy that I would be able to return to Platypus Creek and tell them that we were not going to have to worry about this military-based threat. However, there was still a part of me that was very sad. In my opinion, this degree of human death was as tragic as the loss of Island City and La Grande. We needed to stop doing this to each other.
I got up and turned back towards La Grande. I would try to find Cricket and see if Kayla was able to travel. Since the sun was up, it was now easy to go wide any time I came up on any groups of the undead. That last little encounter had reminded me that I wasn’t all that when it came to being a zombie killer. Sure, I could handle myself okay, but doing so alone was always a bit riskier, so why put myself willingly into that situation?
I eventually reached the spot where I had left Cricket, Nat, Rodrigo, and Kayla. I was a little surprised to discover that it was empty. Looking around, a few things started to make themselves known to me. For one, the area was pretty well trampled for just the few people that had been here. That was when my eyes seemed to finally register the first identifiable horse print in the ground.
Looking around, the area now took on a much darker and foreboding feeling. Dark splatters on the grass jumped out at me and a few spots had stains where it looked like somebody had bled a great deal. The only positive aspect to this was that it was not hard to see which way the people who had attacked Cricket and the others had gone. An easy to follow trail led to the north. At least that was the general direction I was already headed.
***
Crawling on my belly, I got as close as I dared. The horses were all grazing in some nearby grass and did not seem to mind or even really notice my presence. I didn’t push my luck and kept a respectful distance from the animals as I took a position to get a better look.
Sure enough, Randy was here, but he had a few more followers than I realized or even believed possible considering he was such a jerk. If forced to guess, I think there might be about fifty or so men and women wandering around the camp that they had set up in a bunch of dilapidated old buildings that had turned to rust in many places and even fallen down in others. A few feet away from where I had positioned myself were the remnants of an old sign announcing this place as something called the Boise Particleboard Plant. There was a bunch of other stuff written on the sign, but it was mostly shot up and too difficult to read. Also, I really didn’t know what particleboard might be and at the moment I decided that I didn’t really care.
It did not take long for me to find Cricket, Nat, and Kayla. They were all tied to what remained of some sort of tractor or large piece of machinery. I quickly realized that I did not see Rodrigo in the bunch. I felt that I could probably guess his fate. He had either succumbed to his injuries, or Randy and his group decided they did not want to bother with somebody so injured and had finished the job. I did find it interesting that Kayla was sporting what looked like fairly new and clean bandages.
As I tried to gain as much information as possible, another thought struck me: Why were they camped out and apparently settling in so early? After about twenty minutes later I had what I imagine to be the answer.
I was in the process of deciding whether I’d seen enough and should maybe head for Platypus Creek for help when a sound that I felt before I actually heard made itself known. I poked my head up enough to get a look back towards the southwest and spied a group of people approaching on horseback. Another dozen men and women were coming to join this main group.
That was still not too many for us to be able to handle, but I was now worried about how many other smaller groups were riding this way to join Randy. Looking up at the sky, I figured there to be at least a good nine or ten hours of daylight left. It would not hurt anything for me to stick around until nightfall. I was guessing that any other groups of Randy’s people out there would probably arrive by that time. Also, I would have a much easier chance of slipping away unnoticed.
***
By the time darkness had completely reclaimed the area, five more groups of varying sizes had arrived. There had to be at least a hundred and fifty men and women in this group. They were very well armed. A few of the groups arrived with more prisoners that were bound and secured with Cricket and the others. I also noticed that they separated the male prisoners from the females. The other thing very glaring in its absence was the presence of children.
The stories of the early days very seldom involve children. Besides being unable to defend themselves, children were also considered an unnecessary drain on resources by some and an outright detriment to the chances of survival by others. Our group was one of the rare ones according to what I have been told.
These days, children are a vital necessity for keeping a community infused with life. This group’s lack of children is a red flag as far as I am concerned. To me, that is a sign that they are not planning on settling down any time soon. In this world, that points towards one thing: raiders.
As I observed the arrivals I made it a point to check on Kayla every so often during the day. The last time I saw her before it became too dark, she was with a group of six other women. They had just been given what I had to assume was their evening meal. One of the women threw hers back at the guard that had handed out the bowls of whatever was being served. That earned her a series of punches and kicks until a few other members of Randy’s people came over and pulled the man away.
I was able to see as Kayla eventually scooted over by the beaten woman and looked to be trying to tend to her. Once again I was struck by how badly I’d misjudged Kayla Brockhouse. Nothing would make me happier than returning and rescuing her from these bastards.
I scooted out of the grass and brush and started on my way. I am not sure if it is just lucky coincidence, but this tattered remnants of an Old World highway is the one that leads home. I kept to the edge as I moved along.
I’d been on the move for an hour or so when I almost jumped out of my boots from fright. The moan of the zombie behind me was enough to cause me to trip and actually fall sprawling on the ground. My best guess is that I’d gone into some sort of auto-pilot and ignored the fact that I was exhausted. That is my best explanation for how it got to within about twenty feet from me.
I was fortunate in that there was only one zombie. I immediately spiked it and then veered off the road and headed for a cluster of old silos to the right. I remained very cautious as I approached and made sure that the coast was clear. Once I was absolutely certain, I climbed up some very unstable and rickety rungs that were set into the side of the wall until I reached a platform of sorts. After doing everything I could to make sure that the little outcropping of wood and metal would not rip away and send me falling to what would likely be my death, I climbed on, wedged myself in the little makeshift corner and drifted off to sleep.
I woke to a beam of sunlight that was piercing one of the many holes in the exterior of this silo. As improbable as it seemed, that little beam of light managed to find my left eye. When I opened my eyes because of the intrusive light, I may have screamed just because that shaft of light was so bright that I was certain it was somebody shining a torch in my face.
It was then that I realized I had only a half of a canteen and absolutely no food. Even worse, I couldn’t recall the last time that I’d eaten, and my stomach was letting me know in no uncertain terms that it was not pleased with the current events. I made my way down to the ground and emerged from the silo to discover that clouds were building in the west. A storm was coming.
“Great,” I muttered, “that’s exactly what I need.”
I started off towards home, grazing off some of the berries that grew wild and plentiful this time of year. The foothills did not appear to be getting any closer, and then they just seemed to pop up and be right in front of me. I had not seen any wild game all day and was beginning to consign myself to being hungry when I heard the very distinct snuffling of a feral pig.
I stopped moving and tried to get a bearing on it. My luck changed as the creature simply wandered out onto the broken pavement of what little that remained of the actual highway. I already had my crossbow ready and brought my weapon up to my shoulder. The bolt hissed through the air and slammed into the side of the little pig. There was a horrible squeal and the thing tried to run but appeared to have lost the use of its back legs. I pounced and quickly slit its throat.
Twenty minutes later I had a small fire going in the shade of some trees and was roasting a few hunks of meat over the open flame. While my meal cooked, I dressed the rest of the pig. I didn’t have anything to really wrap it up in, so I peeled off one of my shirts and wrapped it in that. It would be messy and smelly, but I could carry it until I made camp for the night. I could cook the rest of the pig later.