Indestructible: V Plague Book 7 (4 page)

He stood looking at me, either trying to figure out if I was
seriously deranged or tilting at windmills.  The inscrutable act was wearing
thin and the longer I stood here wasting time with him, the farther away the
group moved.

“Look,” I said in a calm voice.  “I’m not turning around. 
I’m going after them.  If that means crossing your land and we’ve got a problem
because of that, well… we’d better settle it now because you’re wasting my
time.”

I moved my right hand and placed it on the butt of my
pistol.  Yes, I was still dizzy, but my vision was improving and instead of
seeing two of him I was only seeing one and a half.  Kind of like he had an
identical twin that was standing partially in front of him.  If I had to shoot,
I’d go for center mass, but I didn’t think I’d have to shoot.  Hoped I didn’t
have to shoot.

“That way,” he finally said, carefully taking a hand off his
rifle and pointing in a direction slightly north of due east.

I nodded, very gently, and began to move around him.  I
wasn’t thrilled with the thought of turning my back on his rifle and
sidestepped a few yards down the row I was standing in.  Still angled so I
could see him, I started striding across the rows, stopping after the third
one.  I turned back to see him watching me, rifle now hanging down his side on
a sling.

“Here,” I said, pulling two loaded magazines out of my
vest.  “You’re probably going to need these.”

I held the mags up and the surprise on his face was
evident.  I’d finally gotten something out of him other than a blank stare.

“Take them,” I said, extending my arm and shaking them in
the air.  “I know you’re either out or very low on ammo.”

He had recovered from his surprise and pasted the blank look
on his face again.  With a sigh of frustration I dropped them on the ground. 

“Suit yourself.  I’m out of here.”  I said, turning my back
on him and resuming my direction of travel.

I can say that for the first couple of hundred yards there
was a spot in the middle of my back that itched and twitched, waiting for a
bullet.  But the farther I walked, the more confident I was that I hadn’t
misread the man.  If he’d really wanted to kill me he could have done so when
he first walked up while I was standing there with my eyes closed.  He hadn’t
then, and other than a few insults I hadn’t given him a reason to do so now.

Not bothering to look back and see if he picked up the
magazines, I pushed on.  Several hundred yards later I found the group’s
trail.  I had wandered way off course in my dazed state.  The good news was I
felt better.  My vision had mostly returned to normal.  I was no longer seeing
double or partial-double.  Now there was just some fuzziness around things, but
at least there was only one object when I looked at something.

My head still pounded, but I was stronger and no longer sick
to my stomach.  Sipping more water, I adjusted the straps on my pack and broke
into a jog.  I can’t say I was moving appreciably faster than I was when just
walking, but I needed every fraction of a mile per hour I could get.  With no
idea how fast the infected that had my friends were moving, all I could do was
push as hard as possible to close the distance between us.

After half an hour of jogging I reached the edge of the
agricultural area.  The soft soil of the field ended at a narrow, hard-packed
dirt road.  I slowed when I reached the road, noting the scuffing of the
surface made by passing feet.  Moving to the far side there was a slope down to
grass-covered prairie and the path to follow was clear.  All of the feet had
trampled the vegetation down, changing its color and texture.

With relatively smooth ground to traverse I was able to push
my speed up to a run.  Not having to step over every row as I jogged eliminated
the worst of the jarring impact from every step.  The new terrain was a
physical relief and for the first time I began to feel that I was actually
making progress.

The trail followed the geography, sticking to the easier
route.  It wound through low areas, seemingly avoiding climbing small rises. 
It took a while for the significance of this to dawn on me.  Humans, at least
modern humans who grew up in towns and cities and did all their walking on
smooth concrete and asphalt will normally follow a straight path when walking
through nature. 

Maybe it’s because we’ve been conditioned since birth to get
from point A to point B in as straight a line as possible.  Maybe not.  I just
know it’s the way people behave.  Animals, on the other hand, will almost
always follow the terrain.  The path of least resistance.  Use as little energy
as possible because they can’t count on a grocery store or fast food restaurant
being just around every corner.

The infected were moving like animals.  Like humans
travelled throughout history until we began building and living in cities.  I
didn’t know how this helped me, but it did give me some insight into the
infected’s minds.  A lifetime of conditioning to move in straight lines had
been stripped away by the effects of the virus, the infected operating on a
more instinctual level.

These thoughts and half a dozen others went through my head
as I ran.  Running is boring, and my mind found things to occupy itself while
only devoting enough attention to what I was doing to keep me from stepping off
a cliff or smashing into a tree.  So I let it wander.  And not surprisingly,
all I could think about was Katie and Rachel.  Rachel and Katie. 

I was thinking about how this would all shake out when I got
them back.  Katie was the love of my life, there was no question of that, but
Rachel had a piece of my hard, black heart and the thought of hurting her broke
that little piece.  I would be dead half a dozen times over if not for Rachel,
and I owed her more than I could ever repay for helping me find and rescue
Katie.

Tabling the internal discussion, I slowed then came to a
stop when I reached a wide river.  I cast around, checking the tracks that
transitioned from the prairie grass to the dirt banks, but their direction of
travel didn’t deviate.  Straight into the water.  A few yards downstream I
found a clear set of prints where Dog also went into the river.

This was really odd.  I looked across the water, estimating
it to be nearly a hundred yards to the far bank.  I couldn’t tell how deep it
was, the water moving so slowly that if I didn’t pay close attention I couldn’t
even detect a current.  I had not seen infected willingly enter any body of
water unless they were in hot pursuit of prey.  They couldn’t swim, or at least
I’d yet to see one that was capable.

The river had to be shallow.  If they weren’t crossing it
there was no reason for them to wade out into it.  Starting to step into the
water, I froze when my little early warning system sent a wave of prickles up
my back.  Frozen in place, I cut my eyes back and forth in search of any threat
while I calmed my breathing so I could hear anyone or anything approaching.

Seeing and hearing nothing after a few moments, I slowly
turned my head first to the right, then left.  My rifle was up to my shoulder
by now and I gently clicked it from semi to burst mode.  Still detecting
nothing, I suddenly dashed to my left to take cover behind a large willow tree. 
The tree’s roots were exposed due to the erosion of the river, thick and rough
where they were above the surface.

Standing in water to my knees, I looked through the night
vision scope.  Thoroughly scanning my back-trail I didn’t see anything, so I began
checking each side.  What the hell had got my spidey-sense all excited?  OK, I
know it’s not really super powers.  I heard, smelled, saw or felt something
that was so subtle my conscious mind wasn’t aware of it, but my subconscious
picked up on it and sounded an alarm.

Staying still, I kept watching.  Several minutes later I
detected movement as a figure broke cover from behind a stunted tree and dashed
to conceal itself behind a low mound of dirt.  I didn’t recognize the features
through the scope, but his build and long ponytail told me who it was.  Maybe
he’d had second thoughts about letting me cross his land.  The fucking Indian
was following me.

Climbing out of the river, I crawled up the low bank. 
Working my way over the top, I silently moved at an angle to the mound the
Indian was behind.  Pausing, I checked the area and spotted a clump of bushes
that I was willing to bet was his next destination.  They provided the best
concealment and were a forty-yard dash from the mound.  I intended to get there
first and be waiting for him.

I didn’t know what his game was.  Was he stalking me with
bad intentions, or was he just following along to make sure I didn’t do
something disrespectful while I was on Osage land?  Frustrated, I slipped into
place ten yards to the side of the bushes.  I was prone on the ground, mostly
hidden behind a couple of rocks.  In the dark I knew I was invisible to anyone
that didn’t have night vision or thermal imaging.

My rifle had just settled in against my cheek, aimed at where
I expected him to stop when he suddenly appeared right where I’d predicted. 
Damn he was quiet.  I’m good in the field.  I’m not bragging, just stating what
I know from years of having survived because I was taught how to move
stealthily.  But this guy was a fucking ghost.  Watching him suddenly appear in
my sights was like watching something on TV with the audio muted.  It happened
with zero detectable noise.

“You’re not faster than a bullet,” I said, just loud enough
for him to hear me.

He remained frozen in a crouch, head lifted to see over the
bushes to the river.  After a few long heart beats he turned to look in my
direction, not moving any other part of his body.  His rifle was in his right
hand, on the far side of his body and he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he
could bring it around before I pulled the trigger.

“Why are you following me?”  I asked.

He just stared back, not saying anything.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” I finally said in
frustration.  “I think it’s time to put a bullet in your head so I can go about
my business without worrying about you.  Now, if you don’t like that idea I’d
suggest you knock off this silent routine and speak up.  I’m out of patience.”

“I know where the females are going,” he said without his
usual hesitation.  “Where they’re headed is sacred ground.  I tracked a large
group of them there a few days ago.”

“So… what?  You were going to sneak up behind me and kill me
to protect your sacred ground?”  I growled, getting really tired of this.

“No,” was all he said.

“Then what?  Seriously, I’m getting pissed off and don’t
have time to be jerking around with you.”  I said, clicking my rifle’s fire
selector from burst to semi.  I didn’t need to expend three bullets if I
decided to put him down.

“Relax.  OK?”  The sound of the rifle had gotten his
attention.  “I might have killed you before, but leaving me some ammo was
pretty stand-up.  You were right.  I was out.  Been fighting these bitches for a
long time.  I was just going to tie you up and drag your white ass back to
where you came from.”

“I’m supposed to believe that bullshit?”  I asked.

“Honest Injun.”  He said, showing the first glimmer of a
human being behind the intractable warrior façade.

I lay there looking at him through my scope, finally
snorting a laugh but not relaxing.  Just because he had cracked a joke at his
own expense didn’t mean he wasn’t still a deadly threat.

“Well, I’m not going to let that happen.  So I see two ways
out of this.  First is, I put a bullet through you and go on my merry way. 
Second, you get it through your head that all I care about is getting my wife
and friends back.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your sacred ground.  If
that’s where they are I’ll spill a lot of blood to satisfy whatever spirits
you’re worried about.  Either way, you’re not going to stop me, so make up your
mind how you want this to go.”

I had been watching him closely as I spoke.  Looking for the
subtle tells that reveal the moment a man decides to fight or not.  I saw it as
I finished talking.  A slight lowering of his eyes and his rifle.  It was only
two tiny movements, and I doubt he was even aware he had made them, but they
told me all I needed to know.  He wasn’t going to fight.  Why didn’t matter.

“There’s a third choice,” he said after a couple of
moments.  “I go with you.  I know this land and I know where they’re going. 
And I know how to fight.  My father was in Vietnam and when he got back he made
sure his boys knew how to fight.  He always thought there would be a day the
Osage would rise up again.”

I was surprised by his offer of help, unsure if it was
sincere or a tactic to get me to relax.

“What about your sacred ground?”  I asked.  “How do we get
around that?”

“That’s all bullshit,” he answered.  “Well, not to most of
my tribe, but I don’t believe in that shit.  It’s just something the old men
and women use to try and hold on to the past and control the younger
generations.”

“Then why the hell were you giving me such a hard time?”  I
asked.

“Look at me and what do you see?”  He asked, the anger clear
in his voice.

“An asshole,” I answered, drawing a snort from him.

“No, you see a redskin savage.  A lazy, out of work drunk
with nothing that hasn’t been handed to him by the white man.”  His voice was
getting louder as he talked.  Apparently there was some pretty deep-seated
resentment there.

“You’re wasting my time,” I said.  “I don’t give a fuck if
your red, black or purple.  And I sure don’t give a shit what you think the
white man has done to you.  When you’re ancestors were being herded onto
reservations, mine were literally starving to death in Ireland and selling
their souls to get on ships to America so their children would have a chance at
survival.  None of our people had it easy.”

I expected more arguing.  More accusations of prejudice.  Anything
other than a genuine, deep laugh as he slowly stood up, rifle held out to his
side in one hand to make sure I didn’t open fire.

“Let’s go find your wife, white man.  I’ll tell you a story
to pass the time while we run.”  He said.

After a moment I got to my feet, finally lowering my rifle
but keeping both hands on it.  This guy was either certifiable or playing some
really weird game.  I didn’t know which, maybe a little of both, but I wasn’t ready
to start trusting him.

“After you,” I said, gesturing at the river.  I wasn’t about
to let him behind me again.

He grinned, turned and led the way into the water.