Ghosts: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (6 page)

Daymon took off a glove and manipulated the rubberized keys
until he found the channel and sub-channel Heidi requested he go to. “What’s
up?” he asked.

The words came out of Heidi’s mouth rushed and at times
unintelligible as she rehashed the events leading up to the moment the satellite
phone registered the incoming call.

Shaking his head, Daymon said nothing for a short while.
Then he said, “I think you’re reading into it too much. He’s all business. And
so is Duncan when he’s not half in the bag drunk.”

“But ...”

Daymon keyed the talk button, cutting her off. He said,
“Drop it. You’re projecting. I’ll be back when I’m finished here and we can
talk it through.”

“Whatever,” she said.

Daymon turned the volume back up to max and glanced at
Duncan, who had been feigning disinterest, rather poorly.

“Everything OK?”

“Same old same old,” answered Daymon. He switched the radio
back to the previous channel. Sat down hard on the Chevy’s tailgate and cracked
a water.

Smiling, Duncan took a seat next to Daymon on the dusty
tailgate. He pulled out his flask and said, “Would misery like company?”

Back in the compound, Heidi slapped a palm on the plywood
desk. “Men are such assholes,” she said, switching the two-way back to the
agreed upon community channel, 10-1. Then, alone in the dimly lit container
with only her conscience and a crushing silence, reluctantly, she pressed the talk
button and asked for Cade.

***

Radio in hand, and about to deliver a sit-rep back to the
compound, Cade smiled when the unit vibrated for a second time in as many minutes.
Hearing Heidi asking for him, he said, “Great minds,” and depressed the
Talk
button. “I was just about to call you. Everything is OK,” he said. Then he went
on and described the encounter at the inner fence and added that someone would
be returning to the compound shortly to get a couple of shovels. He released
the Talk button and heard a click, presumably Heidi, followed by the soft hiss
telling him the channel was open. Finally Heidi spoke up. “I’m sorry, Cade. Everything
is
not
going to be OK. A call came in on your phone a little while ago and
I ... I kind of
sat
on it.”

“Why?” asked Cade, disbelief evident in his voice. “And who
was it?”

Eyes bugging from her head, Brook mouthed, “What the hell?”

Putting a hand up, Cade shook his head and repeated the
questions.

“Because everybody ignores me,” replied Heidi. “And I’m
getting sick of it.”

“I don’t ignore you,” said Daymon, breaking in over the
conversation. “But what you did was wrong so answer the man’s questions.”

There was a brief silence.

Taryn’s eyes were locked on the radio clutched in Cade’s
hand and, reacting to the exchange, her brows arched and her mouth formed a
silent O which she quickly covered with one hand.

“Spit it out, Heidi,” railed Brook into her own radio.

Inside the comms container Heidi retrieved the sat-phone
from the shelf. She hit a random key and, once its screen lit up, thumbed the
Talk
button on the two-way and read aloud the eleven numbers.

Brook was leaning against a tree and staring at her radio
and listening to the numbers being read off. Once Heidi was finished and the
radio was silent, Brook’s face went slack, her arms went to her sides, and she
pushed off the tree. Scooping up her carbine, she let loose with a couple of
choice curse words and stalked off the way she’d come, with Taryn following
closely and trying to talk her out of
killing the messenger
.

“Repeat the number, please,” said Cade as he watched the
women disappear down the game trail leading back to the clearing a quarter mile
distant. Listening closely, he stared at the Motorola in his fist, and once
he’d heard all eleven digits his head started to bob and he whispered, “Nash?”

***

A few minutes after Heidi’s pseudo come-to-Jesus moment, Cade
heard distant engine noise and then the two-way radio started warbling. He
answered the incoming call and when he learned that Duncan and Daymon were
returning for the day he asked that they stop at the inner ring of fence. A
tick later, preceded by the same growling engine, the nearby sound of gravel
popping under tires reached Cade’s ears. Then there was a slight brake squeal and
the engine shut off. Next came two, near simultaneous, resonant clangs. Cade listened
to the sounds of the men breaking brush along the fence line, and so that nobody
would be mistaken for rotters, guided them in the final twenty yards over the
radio.

***

Moving the bodies through the brush to the feeder road took time
and considerable effort, even with Duncan and Daymon pitching in. During the process
Cade let it be known that the number of the call he’d missed belonged to Major
Freda Nash, who he presumed was still running the show back at Schriever Air
Force Base.

Hearing this, Daymon abruptly dropped his half of the corpse
he and Duncan were lugging, turned and, with his hands on his hips, asked Cade,
“What do you think she wants?”

Punctuated with a grunt as he and Wilson heaved the male rotter
with the crushed head onto the road, Cade replied, “I’ve got no idea, Daymon.
But knowing Nash ... she’s not calling to invite me to the Officer’s Ball.”

“Well, well, Mister Glass Half Empty,” slurred Duncan. He
let go of the corpse’s bloodied bare feet he’d been holding onto. “Did you
think maybe she’s calling to tell you the scientists you shanghaied from Outer
Mongolia have perfected the dear departed doctor’s antiserum?”

Shaking his head, Cade said, “Doubtful.”

“That
would
be a game changer,” countered Wilson.

Cade didn’t answer to that. Guessing the reason for Nash’s
cold call was the last item on his agenda. Instead he said, “Why don’t you go and
stay with Sasha and Taryn. When you get there send Seth back with another
pickup so we can get these things to the pit and bury them. And have him bring
me a shirt.”

Wilson perked up. He asked, “I’ll bring you a shirt if I can
operate the excavator.”

“Sheeit, Wilson,” drawled Duncan. “Ole ham-fisted Daymon
here pilots that Black Hawk better than you work that booger green piece of digging
machinery.”

“To answer your question, Wilson,” Cade said. “No. Can’t
risk having that thing break on us. Plus ... I have zero desire to go poking
around Woodruff or anywhere else looking for parts.”

Wilson nodded and took off toward the compound.

Daymon shot his reluctant
flight instructor
an icy
glare, brought his hands together at neck-level and pantomimed strangling him.

Swaying noticeably, Duncan fumbled in his pockets for his
flask. He spun the cap, took a long draw and grimaced from the burn. Then,
apparently having already forgotten his barbed comment, gazed confusedly at
Daymon.

Hands by his sides now, Daymon said, “It’s not like riding a
freaking bike. Not even close. So forgive me if I can’t land the thing yet.”

“Can’t hover it worth a damn either,” muttered Duncan. “You
know how many hours I logged watching and learning before I even got to touch a
stick?”

“No ... but I have a feeling you’re about to tell us.”

“Daymon, my boy …” Duncan paused and took another belt of
Jack Daniels. Wiped his mouth on a sleeve and went on, “a month of Sundays.
That’s how many.”

“That’s days,
not
hours,” said Daymon, lips curling to
a smile. “And you’re drunk.”

The radio in Daymon’s pocket suddenly blared and Seth said
he and Wilson were a minute out.

Thumbing the Talk button, Daymon said, “We aren’t going
anywhere. And neither are the rotters.”

“Copy that,” replied Seth.

As the Dodge Ram Dually approached on the narrow road,
underbrush and branches slapped and scratched at its bulbous rear fenders, making
the sheet metal sing. After squeezing the rig through the opening between a
pair of hewn timber posts that didn’t look wide enough for the full-sized pick-up,
Seth, who was alone, stopped it perfectly with the open tailgate right beside
the stinking mound of twice-dead cadavers.

***

Five minutes later the seven corpses were stacked in the box
bed like cordwood, their scuffed shoes and twisted and stubbed toes resting on
the tailgate.

After shrugging on the tee shirt, Cade slapped the wheel
well and moved aside and watched Seth back the truck in a mirror image of the
way he’d arrived. A dozen yards down the feeder he found a wide spot in the
road, made a three-point-turn, crushing ferns and assorted ground-hugging flora,
and sped back towards the compound.

Carbine in hand, Cade looked at Duncan and Daymon and said, “Let’s
go. Time to open Pandora’s box.”

Leaving the two men at the forest’s edge near the motor pool
Cade hustled across the clearing and ducked into the compound. After letting
his eyes adjust to the low light, he noticed Heidi seated a dozen yards away, the
glare from the flat panel monitor bathing her face with an eerie blue light.

That she was still at her post led Cade to believe that his
wife had wisely taken the high road—a good thing for everyone involved. A confrontation
with Brook, who was becoming more hardened to their new world with each passing
day, would have been grossly one-sided, and served only to further alienate the
already skittish woman from the group, sending her scrabbling and scratching,
like a hermit crab, ever deeper into the comfort of the shell the subterranean
compound had become to her.

Partially closing the recently oiled door behind him, Cade stood
statue-like in the gloom of the foyer and watched the woman going about her
work. Though he spent only a minute evaluating her, for the most part she seemed
to still be in command of all her faculties. Every few seconds she would ignore
the short wave radio, look up and pay close attention to the out-of-sight
monitor to her left. And when she did Cade noticed her eyes move by degrees, as
if following a grid-like search pattern. He saw the blue glow reflected in them
intensify when she paused and leaned in, no doubt scrutinizing each individual partition
on the screen.

The new system, which was far superior to the archaic linked
game trail cameras it replaced, provided full video coverage of State Route 39,
a long straight stretch of the nearby gravel feeder road, all four corners of
the vast grass-covered clearing, as well as the vehicles, aircraft, and dirt airstrip
cutting between them. Throw in the camera’s rudimentary night vision
capabilities, and the round-the-clock need for a warm body manning the over
watch near the hidden entrance seemed a bit redundant.

But as this incident had just made crystal clear to Cade,
having a level-headed person—not someone running high on emotion—monitoring the
live feeds which were the compound’s first line of defense and tantamount to
everyone’s survival had to be priority one going forward. Heidi’s first mistake—forgetting
to turn on the ringers and missing his call before they’d all been reunited—could
be forgiven. No blood, no foul. But ignoring an incoming call because of a personality
conflict was, in his book, abject failure and grossly negligent. However, as
inept as the action was, and since the compound still ran on a kind of group
conscience which required a vote for all major decisions, he too would be following
Brook’s lead and taking the high road. So he made a mental note to meet with Duncan,
who, since Logan’s murder, had become the de facto leader of the group, and
recommend that she be given something to do to keep her busy and from
underfoot. One where failure couldn’t get anyone killed. And if she refused the
overture and it came to a vote to oust her, then, and only then, would he bring
the issue up with Daymon—who saw her involvement in the day-to-day operations
of the compound as the only thing keeping her somewhat sane.

Clearing his throat, Cade cracked the door open behind him a
few inches and then made a show of closing it. Ducking through the passage,
carbine trained at the floor, he waited for Heidi to make the first move.

She said nothing.

So he walked through the wall of brooding silence, hearing
only his mom’s voice in his head urging him to not say anything unless it was
good. And at the moment he couldn’t think of anything in that column worthy of
him stopping and being cordial so he kept on going, mouth shut, lips pursed
into a thin white line.

After a quick right turn he stood outside of the Grayson
quarters. The door was dogged shut and with no sound coming from the other side
of the three by six plate of steel he decided that better safe than sorry
applied here. So he rapped softly, his knuckles producing a sonorous gonging tone
that echoed in the cramped corridor. Far from any kind of a Zen-like state, he
stepped back and waited.

A half beat later there was a rasp as the inside bolt was
drawn. Then the door hinged inward and Raven’s tanned face, barely noticeable
in the corridor’s low light, peered out at him.

“Who goes there,” she asked, erupting in giggles.

Feeling twelve feet tall while looking down at his daughter,
Cade placed the backs of both hands on his forehead, twisted his fingers to
represent antlers, and answered in a silly voice, “I’m the Knight who says ‘
Ni
.’”
Usually the first to laugh at one of her dad’s random juvenile outbursts, Raven
instead pursed her lips and said nothing.
Injury,
thought Cade. Then,
after suffering the added indignity of being on the receiving end of a long
blank stare from his twelve-year-old, which he chalked up as the
insult
component of the one-two sucker-punch that had just shaken his usually impenetrable
daddy aura
, he hung his head and inched past her. If he had a tail, he
conceded inwardly, it would be firmly tucked between his legs.

Sat-phone in hand and shaking her head at her husband’s
dated attempt at humor, Brook patted the bunk, beckoning him to join her.

Cade didn’t budge.

Craning her neck to see around him, Brook said, “Raven. I
need you to go and visit with the Kids for a while.”

“Take your rifle,” said Cade, grabbing the Ruger from its
spot behind the door and handing it over.

“Muzzle down. And keep the safety on,” added Brook, nodding.

Flashing them both a look that said,
I got this,
Raven
grasped her rifle by its walnut stock, checked the safety, and, after seeing
that it was indeed engaged, slung it over her shoulder with the slender black
barrel aimed at the wood floor.

Remaining standing, Cade uttered their new family mantra. “Stay
frosty,” he said while bugging his eyes at her with one brow cocked awkwardly.

The antics produced the result he’d sought earlier and Raven
closed the door like she’d opened it, wracked by a case of the giggles.

Once the dainty footfalls receded into the distance, Cade
pulled up a folding chair, straddled it backward, and looked at his better half
over steepled fingers.

After a few moments of uneasy quiet, Brook
blinked
first. “What?” she blurted, shrugging, her arms outstretched.

Cade said nothing. Just matched her stare, unblinking.

“She was wrong holding back that information.”

“Agreed,” said Cade, dropping his chin, gaze settling on the
floor near his boots. “But attacking her over the radio? Two wrongs do not make
a right. Don’t forget ... Raven’s learning everything that she’ll be taking
forward, right now, by watching you ... me, and all of those we choose to
surround ourselves with. She doesn’t have the luxury of learning from her
mistakes like we did. There is no more trial and error. Best case scenario ... error
equals a quick and final death. Worst case ... she’ll get bit and suffer a stint
in purgatory before someone grants her final rest. So we’ve got to be extra
careful the messages we send and what and how we say things when she’s within
earshot, however explosive or subtle those may be.”

Now Brook remained silent, lips pursed, a solid set to her
jaw.

“Just for the record. I’m glad you didn’t go off on our
forgetful friend.”

The silent treatment continued.

Straightening up, Cade placed his hands on his knees and
asked, “Did you?”

“Of course not. She’s still breathing, isn’t she.”

“Good point. What’s on the phone?” he asked, gesturing at
the slim black device that didn’t appear quite so small clutched in her tiny
hand. “Is it a text or voice message?”

“It’s a voice message. Three guesses who it is. The first
two don’t count.”

Goose flesh breaking out on his ribs and running up his
spine, he said, “I have a good idea already just going by the number itself.
It’s Nash ... isn’t it?”

Narrowing her gaze, Brook nodded and mouthed, “Bingo.”

“What’d she want?”

Swallowing hard, Brook passed the phone over.

“Well?”

“I have no idea,” she said.
But I have a feeling it means
you’ll be leaving us again
, is what she was thinking.

Thumbing in the unlock code to the metaphorical Pandora’s
Box, Cade asked, “You listened to it, right?”

Nodding, Brook said, “Nash wants you to set up the laptop
and the accompanying dish and follow the same procedure as before ... whatever
that
means.” Then for the third time in as many minutes she went silent. Biting her
lower lip, she looked at the floor. After a few seconds she swept her eyes up
to meet Cade’s and added quietly, “Apparently in order to find out what she
wants you’re going to have to peel some layers from the onion. And if you do it
in my vicinity Mister Grayson, I’m liable to break down and start crying.”

“Looks like you already have been,” he said, going to his
knees.

“Guilty as charged,” she said, watching him extricate the
rigid Pelican case from under the bunk.

“I noticed back at the clearing. Didn’t want to call
attention to it in front of the Kids.”

“I didn’t cry in front of Raven.”

“Must have been tough.”

“Don’t keep her waiting any longer, Cade Grayson.” Brook
inched towards the end of the bunk and wrapped both arms around the support.
Rested her cheek on the cool metal there. “Now I’ll do a little praying that
she isn’t trying to steal you from me again.”

“No one is
stealing
me away from you. It’s duty to
country and the future I want our daughter to enjoy that keeps making my mouth
say yes. Even when I want to stay with you really, really bad.” He went silent
for a moment.

For the second time Brook lost it. She looked up at him
through teary eyes and said, “Please go by and tell Raven to stay with the Kids
for a while longer. So I can compose myself.”

Cade rose to his feet and hefted the Pelican container in
one hand. He nodded an affirmative and kissed Brook atop her head. Said, “I’m
sure everything will work out for the best. For all parties involved.” He pulled
the rugged laptop from his rucksack and left without another word.

Brook waited until she could no longer hear Cade’s
footfalls. She glared at the ceiling and growled, “Stay the hell away from my
family, Murphy.”