Dead: Winter (35 page)

Now that he was a seasoned veteran with over a hundred kills (of the assassination variety at least) he hardly noticed. Truth be told, he took a little pleasure when his female targets let go of their bowels. It was so vulgar, and for whatever reason, it usually made him chuckle like a schoolboy in a sex education class.

Looking around the room, he tried to decide if there might be anything that made a suitable tr
o
phy. His gaze settled on something glittery on the dresser. Heaving himself up and out of the chair, Slider walked over and stared down at the jeweled lighter. He picked it up, flipped open the top and thumbed the wheel. A tiny orange flame was his reward.

Pocketing the item, Slider went over and wrapped the body in the spare blanket he found in the hall closet, tossed it over his shoulder, and headed downstairs. On the way he passed the body of an e
l
derly woman sprawled on the stairs. He’d hated killing that one. Servants seldom were treated well in any case; to have to kill one because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time was unfortunate.

He dumped the bimbo beside the door to the stairs leading into the cellar and returned for the housekeeper, or whatever the poor woman had been. She was so skinny and frail that he felt her bones digging into his shoulders as he carried her.

When he reached the stairs, he grabbed the lantern that hung just inside and, while keeping the body balanced on his shoulder, primed and lit the rusty Coleman. Holding it out in front of hi
m
self, he descended.

Even with the lantern’s pale orb of light, it was still chillingly dark in the cellar. Reaching the bo
t
tom step, he heard the moan and then the rattle of chains. Slider set the lantern down and waited for it to come into view.

The pathetic creature had been a girl of maybe sixteen. Her face was visible throughout the big house in literally dozens of pictures that hung on the wall. His best guess was that this had been the mayor’s daughter.

The zombie reached the end of its chain and strained so hard that the collar looked to be gouging into the flesh of her neck. Slider shoved the body of the housekeeper at the thing. It fell on it, but stopped short of actually taking a bite.

“Hmm,” Slider mused, “like your meat a little more fresh? Let’s see if this is any better.”

He hurried up the stairs and grabbed the bimbo. She was still warm…and stank like booze and f
e
ces. He hurried down and unceremoniously heaved the body at the feet of the chained monster. It seemed to pass muster and the zombie tore into the already dead girl that had been sharing the mayor’s bed.

Slider picked up the housekeeper along with the lantern and left the thing to its meal. When he reached the kitchen, he set the body down and rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was loo
k
ing for. Closing the door to the cellar, he put the lock on and clicked it shut, pocketing the key. Not that it would matter. If somebody wanted to go down there, they most certainly would.

Heading out into the woods, Slider found an area thick with dead vegetation and fallen leaves. Two hours later, the woman was buried and Slider was walking down the road, returning to the mil
i
tary outpost and his tent.

As he passed down the road that cut through the middle of the cemetery and veered into the nea
r
by woods that sat across from where the military had been allotted space by the “good cit
i
zens of Bald Knob”—as the mayor was always so fond of saying—he heard a low moan. One of the u
n
dead had managed to slip into town. It was rare that any got past the foot patrols, but the men of the 153
^rd
could only be in so many places at a time.

Slider pulled his knife and went to investigate. It wouldn’t do to have one of those things just wandering the streets. His night vision still exceptional, it wasn’t long before it stumbled into view. Strange that one would be
in
the cemetery, conside
r
ing that the place was surrounded by a heavy-duty fence insisted upon by the locals despite the fact that it had been made clear none of the undead had ever risen from graves like in some of the movies.

It finally arrived at the fence where Slider stood just out of reach. Hissing and moaning, it clawed at the air in a futile a
t
tempt to grasp the man just a few feet away.

A quick inspection revealed that this one was new; but there was so much more. She had been buried and still had muddy soil clinging to her body and hair. She was naked. She was young.

Slider was a man who trusted his gut. After plunging his knife into the creature’s head, he hopped the fence and took a look around. Sure enough, he eventually came across a section of ground that had been torn up.

“I guess if you wanted to dispose of a body in this backwoods town, the graveyard would be as good of a place as any,” he said out loud to himself.

If he were a gambling man, Slider guessed that this is where the mayor’s former floozies ended up after a fuck and a visit to the cellar. He couldn’t do it often or people would get susp
i
cious.

As he reached his tent, Chuck “Slider” Monterro was fee
l
ing pretty damn good about the job he’d done. Now it was time for a good four hours of sleep, and then he would pay a visit to Sergeant Jody Rafe.

15

Geeks,
D
octors
,
and
S
now

“We have at least
a dozen miles to get close to town,” Kevin said as the pair dragged the zombie they’d just taken down to the side of the driveway.

“If I can get that snowmobile running,” Peter insisted, “then we cut our travel time down consi
d
erably.”

Kevin liked the idea of a shorter trip, but he also felt that there was a point where the noise trade off became an issue. He didn’t want to fight of hundreds of zombies on the way back if they ended up with a bunch on their tail. One thing he knew about a snowmobile; they were loud. Still, it was a given that this trip would be impossible on foot.

The garage door stuck a bit as they raised it, but eventually it broke free and they were staring at a big Polaris two-seater. Peter whistled appreciatively as they entered the garage. He started right in on giving the vehicle an inspection. After about five minutes where Kevin simply stood watching the snow fall in between peeks at whatever it was that Peter was doing, the vehicle started with a sputter and then a roar that seemed deafe
n
ing to Kevin.

It was no surprise that several undead came out of the sha
d
ows all up and down the street. Also, many of the surrounding houses that had zombies trapped inside now had its occupants pressed against various windows.

“Hop on,” Peter said as he gave the throttle a little rev.

Kevin wasn’t thrilled about riding behind the doctor and having to wrap his arms around the man’s waist, but he would make do with the situation at hand. He swung a leg over and i
n
stinctively tightened his hold when the snowmobile lurched fo
r
ward and shot out of the garage.

As they turned onto the road, Peter let off the throttle so they could converse without having to yell at the top of their lungs. “You just guide me, Kevin and I will get us there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

They were on Highway 16-Newark Expressway in almost no time and headed west. Kevin couldn’t help but take in the d
e
struction with a bit of awe. When they’d been running for the country club, they really hadn’t been looking around. Now, he was able to take it all in. Large areas consumed by fires left the landscape looking skeletal. Instead of buildings in some places, there were spires standing as the last vestige of a home or bus
i
ness.

Abandoned vehicles remained in singles and clusters, all buried under the two or three feet of snow that covered the ground. There was something about the landscape that was beautiful, yet terr
i
fying. It took him a few minutes to realize that he hadn’t seen a single zombie since they’d left that neighborhood behind. It also struck him that he did recall seeing many of the cars that they’d passed when running from Newark and Heath with undead occupants. He wondered what they might look like now. Were they frozen solid? And if so, what would happen in the spring or at the first thaw. He had a brief fantasy about all the zombies melting like the witch at the end of
The Wizard of Oz
.

He’d become so engrossed in the scenery that it took him a few seconds to realize that they were slowing. He craned his neck around to look forward. A wall of various cars, trucks and eighteen-wheelers were blocking the highway. This was no ord
i
nary traffic snarl. For one, it hadn’t been there a few months ago. And second, the vehicles had been parked sideways and see
m
ingly crashed into—or driven on top of—each other.

“What now?” Peter asked over his shoulder.

“Well,” Kevin looked around the area, “I’d say we take a look. Maybe a few of Shaw’s men su
r
vived. If my guess is co
r
rect, The Basket is just a few miles up the road.” Shaw had been a militant leader bent on creating some sort of warrior society. As was the case in so many other attempts at the same thing in history…it had failed.

Peter climbed off the snowmobile and headed for the pile of vehicles. “They did this in the last few days,” Peter called out. “The road is snowed over again, but look at the difference. Plus, the cars are covered with a few inches instead of a few feet.”

Kevin had already made that deduction. He had actually considered it obvious to the point of not needing a mention. That was when it struck him. Peter really hadn’t been out in this for quite a while. If his story were true, he’d made the trip south from Cleveland by himself when this had begun. Shor
t
ly after, he’d been captured by Shaw’s men. He had lived in The Basket and acted as their doctor until orchestrating his, Shari’s and Erin’s escape. Ironically it was while Shaw and most of his men were out in search of Kevin and his small group after they rigged a roadside bomb and ambushed a foraging party that allowed for P
e
ter to make his big escape.

“Whoever this is,” Kevin whispered, suddenly feeling very exposed standing in the middle of the snow-covered highway, “I don’t want to meet them.”

“So which way do we go?”

Kevin inspected the scene. I was impossible to tell from which direction the individuals respons
i
ble had come from, or in which direction they had departed. From where they stood, the river was right off the highway to their left and some sort of i
n
dustrial complex that had suffered a horrendous fire was to the right. Ahead of them was an intersection. The shot up sign that still stood, albeit on the verge of falling when the next good wind blew through, announced the crossing road as “E. Main St.”

After some thought, he turned to Peter who appeared ready to defer this decision to Kevin without question. “The river is a natural barricade. I think, if anybody is lingering in the area, they are north of us…on the right. So, we need to make our way down towards the river.”

Peter nodded his agreement and reached under his coat. He drew his .44 Magnum and handed it to Kevin. “This has some wicked stopping power. The four bullets in the cylinder are all I got, but if somebody pops up, you put a round in the body. The entry hole is small, but it will make a mess co
m
ing out.”

“And you are giving this to me why?”

“Because I will be driving,” Peter explained. “You need to be ready if things get ugly.”

“And if we get separated,” Kevin made to hand the pistol back, “you will be unarmed and d
e
fenseless.”

“Not true, my friend.” Peter opened his coat to reveal a ba
n
doleer of red shotgun shells criss-crossing his chest. “I have a sawed off double-barrel strapped to my leg.” He unfastened the Velcro straps that had kept the cuff of his pants snug around the ankles of his boots.

Kevin hadn’t really paid attention to the man; not back at the country club as they got ready to leave, and not when they’d departed. When he saw the shotgun that wasn’t much larger than a big handgun attached firmly to the man’s calf, his opinion of the man was raised considerably. Perhaps he had underestimated the doctor.

The two men got settled on the snowmobile and resumed their journey. Weaving in and out b
e
tween the barren trees that dotted the banks of the Licking River, they kept their eyes peeled for anything. Once they were clear of the roadblock, they arced back to the highway. As they crested the ridge, Kevin spotted it first.

In a sprawling field were several tents. The flagpole in the center of this vast encampment of well over a hundred tents was a modified American flag with one single star in the center of the blue field. A tall fence encircled the field and figures bu
n
dled in white camo gear walked inside the perimeter with large spears.

A group of soldiers had obviously heard their approach and were sitting on top of a tank parked in the middle of the west bound lane of the highway. Kevin appreciated how the individ
u
als responsible for this encampment had used the terrain to maximum advantage. They had set up around the bend in the highway and behind a gently rising ridge. Closer inspection revealed piles of sand bags or som
e
thing to that effect along the ridge. That meant they’d been observed for quite a while during their approach. In Kevin’s mind, this was a good sign. Had these people been ho
s
tile, they probably would have taken them out while they were walking around that pile up of vehicles.

“So, what’s the call?” Peter asked.

“Stay here,” Kevin said as he climbed off of the snowmobile. He waved to the individuals on the tank as he held the big handgun up and handed it back to Peter. “I am going to go see what we have. If anything happens…take off. Don’t go straight back home just in case these folks can follow you.”

“You think that is a good idea?” Peter asked. “I mean the whole going over and talking to them.”

“I think it is the best choice. And whatever happens, don’t tell them you are a doctor.”

“Why not?”

“They may decide they need you more than anybody else. Even if they are the, quote, good guys…they may still keep you for themselves if they feel you fit their needs.”

“Gotcha.”

Kevin started across the white expanse towards the tank. He reached the median and paused. So far, the people on the tank hadn’t made a move toward him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The closer he got, the easier it was to start making out some details. As soon as he could see their fa
c
es, he noticed right away that there was something very peculiar about the so
l
diers. He finally came to a stop about a dozen feet away from the tank.

“Ladies,” Kevin said in greeting.

One of the soldiers climbed down and made her way to him. She had a few attention-grabbing items dangling from her belt. One of the ones he noticed first and found the most interesting was the TASER hanging from a leather thong.

“You and your friend are either really brave, or really stupid. Considering how long you’ve las
t
ed…I have to assume it is the former,” she said with as close to no expression as Kevin had ever seen on a human face.

“I’d like to think that,” Kevin replied. “So this is where I guess I ask you if I am going to be taken prisoner or allowed to continue on my way.”

“And where would you be going if I let you be on your way?”

“Into Newark.”

“So then you are stupid.”

“Not at all, just desperate.”

“Really?”

Without giving away where they were staying. Or any other details that might lead them to Aleah, Valarie and the others, Kevin explained what it was he was doing and why he had to go into Newark.

“So let me get this straight,” the woman said. As Kevin had been explaining what he was doing, the other four soldiers, all women that he guessed to be between the ages sixteen and fifty, gathered around. “You are out in this weather, the two of you, and you are going into Newark. The place is crawling with those things, but you are gonna slip in and get some medication so this girl stops hall
u
cinating about her dead grandmother?”

When she said it like that, Kevin imagined that it probably seemed a bit ridiculous. Still, what they were missing was the emotional aspect. They didn’t know Valarie, and they hadn’t known his sister.

“Pretty much,” Kevin finally said. “So if you are gonna detain us or anything, I hope you will take into consideration that we have somebody depending on us…and we would be missed.”