Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (44 page)

“Then
why are you all asking Jacob?” Mary lobbed a water bottle at him, which he
managed to catch. “And why didn’t you say so?”

“Jacob’s
smart,” said Dale.

Tara
nodded. “He is.”

“Duh.”
Mary rolled her eyes.

“Part
two, and stop interrupting, is to get all the rest who can’t fight and aren’t
going to Yellowstone over to the fire station. We’ll use that as a staging
point, since that’s been the case from the start, and guide them to the castle.
From there they are going to the new settlement. I’m not telling you where it
is, and no one else here knows.” That was a lie since the twins and Mary had
found it with me, but no sense putting them at risk. “That place, along with
Yellowstone, will hold all the people, two new places, both large and secure,
instead of ranches scattered all over.”

“But,
you said… I mean, I didn’t think we’d outright leave.” Ernie did not look
happy.

“As much
as I hate to say you’re right, not because you are right but because it makes
me look bad for changing things, Wyoming is lost. We all know it. The raiders
have thirteen hundred men here at last count. No shortage of extras in Salt
Lake City, even discounting all their children there. How many fighters can you
get together, people with some idea of what they’re doing, who can shoot a gun
and possibly hit the target?”

“Not
many,” he admitted.

“Two
hundred,” offered Terrance, “maybe.”

I would
be surprised if it was even that much. Anyone can learn to fire a rifle or
pistol, but simply being handed a weapon doesn’t mean you will be of any use in
an actual fight. More likely you would get in the way. A person either needs
training, or, as the case with me, Mary, and the twins, a bit of luck and lots
of practical experience.

“In
conjunction with this part of the overall plan, I need more pilots. One has to
go to Nebraska now, and make sure Yellowstone has two of them as well. The rest
can stay by the ranches for the time being and keep a look out. When we finally
move for good, half will go each way. We can use them later to keep in touch.
Radio communications won’t be possible.”

That
resulted in more nods. It was all simple stuff and likely would have been the
consensus even if they hadn’t asked me to make a proposal.

“Part
three. This one you won’t like as much. I need as many people as can be spared
to come here, to Casper. We know the raiders, when they start moving again, are
going to head straight for us. They have to. They know we’ve got a force here,
and they won’t want to leave it intact. Plus, we are on the main roads both to
Nebraska and the nearby ranches. We move fast, faster than we have been, to get
all the families out. Don’t be leaving any food behind either. Don’t leave
anything behind. Take everything you can carry. Yellowstone can sort theirs how
they see fit. Briana will prioritize at the castle based on how much time we
have. Bring horses too. I want all of them. Other livestock as well.”

I
paused. “Let me rephrase that. While we sit here waiting, all the rest of the
people in the state, other than the pilots and those spotting for us, go either
to the castle or Yellowstone, taking everything they can carry. If they are
gone and the raiders still haven’t moved, then we just leave ourselves. If the
raiders attack first, we get off a warning and buy them as much time as we
can.”

Lizzy’s
comments about the Alamo came roaring back into my mind. I was holding to my
previous words however. This would not be a stand to the end. I was going to
see my sweetie and my son again.

“Worse
case, we get knocked out of here and have to pull back toward the state line.
There are places there where we can set up ambushes. Remember, if they kill us,
the prophet will just keep going and attack our families. We want to kill them
and get away so we can fight again if we have to.”

“Yeah,”
declared Mary, hopping on a chair. “Kill them all, but don’t get yourself
killed in the process. That’s the rule. Break it, and you get put in the
corner.”

*
* *

A week
later, I got the news that the raiders were finally on the move. I have no idea
why they took so long – they never received reinforcements from Utah – but the
delay was a wondrous blessing. Two convoys had reached Yellowstone, and the
third and final one was already in Montana. Their route was clear, and with a
dozen tractor trailers filled with everything imaginable, they would be able to
make it through the winter in relative comfort.

It was
more complicated regarding the castle. Once the children arrived, they were
promptly sent north to the Black Hills accompanied by a single adult family
member, assuming there were any, and we are talking extended family here,
cousins, aunts, and so on. All other adults had to remain in Nebraska until
their turn came. Needless to say – I’m saying it anyway – this caused plenty of
grief. However, Briana was good at explaining things in a manner which soothed
nerves.

There
were two reasons for this rule. The first was outer defense. Briana and Renee
had set up several outposts in the Nebraska National Forest and made sure these
were always occupied. Those present were supposed to spot any problems and take
care of them. If outnumbered, they were to do what they could and then vanish
into the trees. Between early warning and slowing the enemy, it was hoped the
castle could be safely evacuated.

The rest
of the adults were loading trucks, all our U-Hauls, and any other big vehicle
we could find with food, weapons, books for the school we wanted to set up, and
so on. She also had all our paintings and statues, mostly taken from small,
local museums, packed up. Much of humanity’s cultural heritage had been lost,
and we wanted to keep what we could intact.

Briana
was close to having everyone out. All we needed was to delay the prophet a day
or two at Casper. If we did that it would be too late for the raiders to get
us. If we failed Briana would run, burning anything she couldn’t take with her.
With planes watching overhead and broadcasting everything they saw, she had
real time information.

“How
close are they?”

Terrance
was listening in on his radio, the same one Marvin had previously used. “The
little group will get here first. The one from Rawlins is moving slower.”

That was
good. Dealing with the smaller band from Lander would be easier, and I wouldn’t
have to split my forces or wait for them to unite.

“Are
they trying to reach us at the same time?”

“I don’t
know Jacob.”

“That’s
okay. They probably are, have to be since they left within minutes of one
another. Bad communications, or a mistake in planning. Show me the route the
northern ones are taking.”

Mary
held the map down – it was windier than normal – while Terrance pointed it out.

“Just
like we thought. Good. Let’s get over to the airport.”

*
* *

We were
in position at the Natrona County Airport well before the raiders came into
view on US-20. It was the place I chose to engage this group, the best I could
find that kept me close to the spot where we planned on ruining the prophet’s
day when the larger southern group eventually showed up. We had a few hours,
based on what the pilots were telling us. That should be enough.

On a
side note, the pilots mentioned that quite a few of the motorcycles had human
heads mounted on the handlebars, many belonging to children who were likely
killed in the massacre. Way back the prior year when the castle was attacked,
the raiders had proudly displayed grisly trophies, the aforementioned heads,
flayed human skins used as banners, and so forth. However, those who’ve been
moving about Wyoming had seemed far less enthusiastic. This change was
significant enough to catch my attention.

“Mary,
keep getting the updates but don’t tell me unless they’re important.”

Got it.”

She now
had the radio which was tuned to the frequency the planes used, as well as her
handheld so I could get orders to our people on the ground. Terrance would be
fighting, as would all of the forty three I had on site, not counting myself or
Mary. I guess that means forty one would be fighting. Forty one against three
hundred. We could win this because we were better than them, fully equipped,
prepared, and there’s that little thing about learning from all the stupid
mistakes of the past. Anyway, Mary and I were the nerve center of the operation
and had to be paying attention to what everyone else was doing.

“Remind
the snipers to begin firing the moment Tara and Dale open up. They give the
signal.”

My very
capable assistant relayed the information. I had ten individuals, all with
powerful, scoped rifles scattered about on rooftops or in otherwise concealed
positions. The remainder was hiding along one side of the road. They already
knew not to fire until the bulk of the enemy was in our kill zone, marked by
some street signs we had spray painted with red graffiti. In order to entice the
bikers to advance recklessly, three men, all volunteers, would be clearly
visible, located on the road itself. Hopefully, the raiders would spot them and
charge.

The
twins waited until the group was nearing the appropriate marker before
beginning to shoot, and they quickly dropped the two riders in front. These
were a few dozen yards ahead of the main body, and there weren’t any of the
crashes we’d come to love. My other snipers opened up immediately after, and
Tara and Dale shifted their aim to those further back. A few of the bikers
gunned their motorcycles and roared in at the overturned SUV the three
volunteers were using for protection. They quickly turned and ran, heading for
a trench a short distance away.

“Tara,”
I called, “the big one.”

She set her
rifle down and replaced it with the rocket launcher we’d recovered earlier. The
young woman was almost ready when the thirty odd men and women on the ground
appeared and began shooting. Six machine guns, proper, high caliber, belt felt
weapons, let loose, the plywood and debris hiding them tossed aside. Grenade
after grenade was hurled, followed up by fire from assault rifles. Tara
completed the rain of death from her position on the rooftop, focusing on the
thickest clumps with her brother helping her reload.

“My
God,” whispered Mary.

The two
of us were standing up, a few yards from the twins, hidden from sight behind
some air conditioning equipment. We had a good view of all that was happening
however, and I found my stomach growing uneasy. These people were bad, that
being an extreme understatement, and they needed to be killed. It wasn’t as if
they could be negotiated with. You can’t deal with those whose primary goal in
life is to murder you. Still, it was horrid.

Of the
three hundred raiders, half were down. Twenty or so were hit by our snipers at
the beginning, some clean kills, most just wounded. That took nearly a minute
to accomplish, the shooters being told to keep it slow until the gang members
were inside our target zone. The machine guns and the rocket propelled
grenades, the normal grenades, and the snipers then shooting as fast as they
could felled six times as many in half the time. The raiders weren’t going to
give up – they knew we would give no quarter – and began to spread out. Some hunkered
down beside their bikes and started to shoot back. Most ran for cover, seeking
shelter behind old cars or trees.

“Dale,
back to sniping. Tara, clear the area closest to our guys.”

I
noticed Mary listening to something on the radio.

One of
the raiders, a woman who had stripped off her jacket and was wearing nothing
underneath, stood up. She had ornate tattoos of vampire bunny rabbits on her
breasts. Worse, she had a rocket launcher of her own.

“Dale,
by the mile marker!”

She
managed to fire before one of the guys on the ground cut her in half. The blast
hit a machine gun nest, killing three, maybe more. There had been others
nearby, but they weren’t in sight anymore.

“Jacob!
The big group is moving faster.”

“How
much faster?”

“An hour
out, maybe. The planes said they were up to over eighty on the highway.”

This was
still doable. The ambush killed a lot of them. It was moving to a normal fight
now, meaning it was slower than all the years of television and movies
indicated it should be. Hell, with all the lead zipping about, it seemed
impossible that it could last longer than twenty minutes, but reality didn’t
work that way. People ducked down and stayed hidden, their subconscious
demanding they avoid probable death. Guns were shot without taking the time to
aim, or the targets were moving, under cover, far away. I hated stand up
fights.

Dale
dropped a man carrying… I don’t know what that thing was. It was big but didn’t
look like the rocket launcher we were using. A portable missile maybe? We’d
have to collect it later, if by some miracle there was an opportunity to do so.

“Another
machine gun is gone!” yelled Mary, trying to make herself heard over the roar.
She grabbed my good arm and pointed.