Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (35 page)

“You
should be happy with that,” said Mary. “That’s only thirty percent workers. One
out of three would have been thirty three people, a pair of arms, and a leg.
Get it? Fractions.”

“What’s
number five?” asked Jenny. Her eyes showed only a hint of amusement.

“Farmers.
I want some farmers, not ranchers, but people who know how to grow things
professionally, preferably organic stuff without modern pesticides and
fertilizer, since we’re going to run out of these. Don’t count them in the
hundred either. They’re extras. And, they will be going to our new place,
meaning it’s a one way trip, so entire families would be best.”

“Finally,
there’s number six. I would say seven things since I like odd numbers, but I’m
running out of ideas.”

Mary
smirked. “That’s because you’re old and getting slow in the head.”

At times
I wondered how Mary could be so relaxed or if stressed seemed to shake it off
quicker than anyone else. Was it a teenager thing? They often think of
themselves as immortal, that nothing could happen to them. No, that wasn’t it.
She’d seen her sister murdered, her parents die and come back in the initial
change, no shortage of others fall while screaming in pain and horror. In
short, Mary had experienced all the normal crap our world regularly threw at
us. Nah, Mary was just being Mary.

“Number
six is supplies. If we’re taking people, we need more food. Now, we are good on
things like bandages and splints – we’ve looted lots of pharmacies, doctors’
offices, and some nearby hospitals – and pretty good on day to day items. Meat’s
not a problem either. We don’t have too many animals in our pens, but enough
for lots of eggs, milk, cheese, that sort of thing. We do have insane numbers
all around us that we can hunt, mostly former farm animals. What I really want
are canned goods, vegetables, stews, soups, things to compliment the beef and
help ensure the meals are nutritionally balanced.”

“We
don’t have as much as we used to,” said Jenny, “but I’ll pass it along. I’m
sure people sending their families will send food too. You might get more raw
ingredients though, fresh veggies instead of canned. We sometimes dehydrate.”

“That’ll
work.”

“Excellent.
Now, I have a demand, and like yours it’s non-negotiable.”

“You
can’t sleep with Jacob,” declared Mary, with a straight face. “He’s married.”

Jenny
blushed. “That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“I’ve
seen the way you’ve been sneaking peeks at his backside.” The fourteen year old
was on a roll. “It is almost nice, but he really is old. You can see the
sagging starting to set in. I have no idea what Briana sees in him.”

“I’ll be
sure to tell her you said that Mary.”

“I deny
everything. Everything, I say!”

It
really wasn’t an appropriate time for such banter, but maybe that was why Mary
was acting this way. Jokes were better than dwelling on more serious matters,
and they probably helped maintain our emotional wellbeing.

“What’s
your demand Jenny?”

“I want
you and Tara and Dale to help us fight the raiders. I’ve heard all about the
dozens you killed with a sniper rifle when they attacked you…”

It was a
hunting rifle, and I have no idea how many died at my hands.

“…and
everyone who was looting the towns with you said they are incredible shots.
Mary talked about how they killed people who attacked you and didn’t even blink
an eye about it.”

Bad
Mary! Her bragging was dragging me into something I wanted no direct part of.
I’d fight if I had too, but I preferred spending my time getting the citadel in
the Black Hills built, us moved, and keeping Briana and Asher safe. Going to
war was not part of the plan.

“We want
others to help fight too.”

“Jenny…”
I tried not to sound exasperated. “…I just asked for able bodied people, going
down to twelve year olds, so we can care for all the babies and pregnant women
you’ve dumped on us, along with quite a few who are sick, crippled, or too old
to do much. I also asked for them specifically so I can defend these people. Now,
turning around and sending them right back is just a little counterproductive,
don’t you think?”

The
earlier blush turned bright red. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. We’re
still going to want you, and that will make giving a pilot more fair.”

No, it
would not. I’d already more than justified their giving us a pilot.

“Do you
have the authority to negotiate this?” I asked.

“Not
exactly.”

“So,” I
continued, “you don’t know if the Ranching Collective is going to say they want
three people to join in the war when there are already several thousand
available, and remember, none of us were ever soldiers. Also, being a good shot
is something no shortage of hunters, of which there are plenty in Wyoming, can
claim.”

“We’ll
fight,” said Dale.

“We don’t
like the bad guys,” added Tara.

I could
have screamed. Even Mary looked worried. The twins just had to come inside to
see what was happening. Damn. Damn. Damn. I could get out of it. I was sure of
that. They couldn’t make me, and if they refused the pilot, I would say, fine,
no more people. What they really wanted from me was to hide their loved ones.
They didn’t need me to fight. So why did Jenny want me and the twins to join
in?

“Why us?
The truth.”

She
looked down. “My brother’s a deputy sheriff.”

Ah, he
would be on the front lines, and with her so far back on the opposite side of
the state, Jenny would have little idea what was going on. If he died, it might
be days before she found out. If he needed help, she wouldn’t be able to do
anything, nothing at all. That made some sense. She’d heard about our
adventures, which were more extensive than what most in Wyoming had gone
through. There was the initial attack last year, the rescue in Oklahoma a few
months ago, and the recent looting runs, which were pretty timid by our
standards but impressive if you’ve never been on one.

“Fighting
will give Briana time to get ready,” continued Dale.

“Briana’s
smart.” Tara paused, thinking. “We’ll give her time so she can think more.
We’re good at shooting people.”

That was
perhaps the longest statement either of the two had ever made, and it had my
mind spinning. The time factor wasn’t much of a concern. The three of us on our
own weren’t going to slow them down. However, if we were part of the fight, we
could see firsthand what was happening. The problems of receiving information
days later and trying to sort it out would be diminished, perhaps eliminated. I
would have a better idea how to react, what we had to plan for. There’d need to
be a messenger system back to the castle, but I could have a few people stay at
the fire station full time. Working in pairs, for safety and redundancy, and
being on motorcycles, they could get there in a just a few hours. Briana was
indeed smart, and she could do a lot if she had up to date, accurate
information to draw upon.

“We
won’t be part of your command structure. There is no chance of that happening.
Instead, we’ll be an independent team, snipers, the three of us.”

Judging
from the smile that bloomed on her face, Jenny apparently thought I was going
to say no.

“Jacob,
I don’t…”

“Hush
Mary. I will also have four people based here, with you, at the fire station.
They are going to work as messengers who will take news back and forth to the
castle. They don’t answer to you, and they don’t fight. You have to feed them
though.”

These
were going to be from Martin or Anadarko. I wanted people with no connection to
Wyoming involved with that duty.

“I get
to include any message I want with anybody coming here, so that can be relayed
back. The three of us will come and go too, however often as we want, to talk
to our people or visit the castle.”

Mary’s
look of consternation decreased slightly, and I thought she was beginning to
understand the reason I volunteered. I was going to hear of her annoyance at
being shushed later, when we were alone, but I could deal with that. I was
getting good at dealing with things.

“That’s
not a problem, not at all,” assured Jenny. “It would be nice to have more
people here anyway, and we wouldn’t have to send a radio message asking you to
come.”

There
was one downside to the entire thing. Briana was going to kill me.

*
* *

We
returned to the forest with the supplies and loot we’d recently acquired. Bruce
and Steph took charge of all that. I then promptly selected six people, all of
whom were more than willing, and instructed them to head for the fire station
ASAP. Two were going to lead the next group of people back with the other four
being stationed there permanently to act as messengers. The pair who would
serve as guides was told repeatedly not to return unless a pilot was
accompanying them.

I also
went ahead and assigned a few others to check out all the nearby airfields and
airports. These were to be cleared of zombies, insofar as that was reasonable
and possible, and a listing of all planes, helicopters, and spare parts or fuel
reserves made. I wasn’t expecting anything super detailed, and I explained
this. Rather, I wanted the best someone unfamiliar with the industry could come
up with. It was to be a starting point for later.

As it
turned out, Marcus and Lizzy had arrived shortly before us. Everything in the
Black Hills was progressing nicely. Laura was having some difficulty with the
wall, mostly related to preparing cement and mortar, but Marcus thought they
were close to having that hammered out. The citadel proper and any future stone
buildings would likely be more complicated, the outer wall using up almost all
that was readily available. Still, making concrete was well within our technological
capabilities. You just needed the right ingredients, all of which we could get,
a splash of water, and a big container to mix it in.

News of
the invasion went over about as well as one could expect. There was panic,
requests to learn who was killed, hurt, or missing – I had no idea – and plenty
of demands that I do more to protect everyone. Some people are next to
impossible to satisfy, and being in charge is a miserable experience. Worse,
Briana knew everyone far better than me, and she rarely, if ever, forgot their
names. As a result, she was the popular one, and all the grief and complaints
were directed to me. I accepted this, unfair as it was, and outlined my
intentions in detail. These were simple. Work would continue on the second, hidden
settlement with people moving there over the upcoming weeks. Also, there were
to be additional patrols in and around the forest, both by vehicle and on
horseback, and semi-permanent watches established in a few key areas. To top it
off, anyone who wanted one would be given a revolver, which they could keep.

With all
of this completed, I began to make preparations to leave once more. We would be
taking my Jeep Wrangler, as it was a fully customized off road machine in
perfect working order. The foam mattress was still in the rear, along with our
personal weapons and a large number of extras for the Ranching Collective. They
were bound to appreciate receiving two dozen M-16’s and several cases of
bullets. It would be a tight fit for Tara – she was slightly smaller than her
brother, so she got to sit in the back with the gear – but it was only a few
hours to the fire station where much of the stuff would be unloaded.

I was
taking my fancy .50 caliber sniper rifle, which had its awesome scope complete
with night vision capability. There was also an assault rifle and two
semi-automatic pistols. The twins had the same basic gear, along with a scary
assortment of knives and a few extra guns. Those two would be weighed down, but
heavy loads had never slowed them before. There was no reason for me to be
concerned. They were both in exceptional condition, better than me, not to
mention a decade and half younger.

By the
way, the machine gun the twins wanted to install in the common hall was there,
with belts of ammunition sitting beside it. Anyone assaulting our gate was
going to get a real nasty surprise, not that I saw this happening. With the
careful watches we were keeping, we could hopefully identify and deal with any
threats far from home, and that assumed the raiders skipped the ranches that
were in the way and came for us instead. Very unlikely.

As to
Briana’s state of mind, let’s just say that I left for war with not one but two
black eyes, courtesy of a broken nose. Now, don’t be thinking Briana did this.
Hitting, and this does not include slaps across the top of the head or a punch
in the arm, is a major no no. I have no tolerance for spousal abuse, not that
we’re married, only engaged. In this case, I took a tumble, falling down the
ladder which led from the living room to the bedrooms on the top floor of our
townhouse. To clarify, the black eyes I was sporting had nothing to do with
Briana being mad, but, and I swear before all the angels and saints in Heaven
that this is true, I have never before seen my sweetie that pissed. I pray I
never see her that way again.