Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (45 page)

Read Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict Online

Authors: Joshua Jared Scott

Tags: #Zombie Apocalypse

I wasn’t
certain what happened, but there were several raiders standing around the
bodies of my people. They were swiveling the machine gun around.

“Tara!
That one over there!”

“I’m out
of rockets,” she said, after blasting them apart and returning to her sniper
rifle.

We had a
lot of dead people. I could see the bodies, but there were still plenty of the
enemy running around. Damn. We hadn’t killed enough in that first hit. Now it
looked like I would be stuck here. This was so not good. It was going to
complicate the surprise we had for the prophet. Wait…

“Are
they pulling back?” I asked.

It
looked that way, and they were heading for the road they’d come in on, instead
of moving for buildings or other places from which they could continue the
fight.

“Give
them some more encouragement.”

No one
could have heard my words, not as softly as I spoke them, but the defenders saw
what was happening and renewed their efforts.

“They
are leaving!” she exclaimed.

It was
obvious now. The raiders were indeed retreating. It was haphazard and disorganized
with the orders being passed verbally. Those who heard it listened though,
running away or getting back on their bikes whenever possible. Our guns began
to fall silent as they steadily moved out of range and kept on going.

“Should
we follow?” called someone.

“Mary,
send a radio message for groups one and two to fall back accordingly. Leave the
raiders where they lie. Do not mess with the bodies.”

We had
separated ourselves into two sections, with those assigned to each group
thoroughly intermingled with one another. That was a basic safety measure. In
case of heavy loss in one place, such as our machine gun getting blown up, the
numbers of each section killed would be roughly even. I had to have people
available for each task.

I had
been worried that I would have to pull group one back while the fight was
continuing, leaving the other heavily pressed to keep the raiders occupied.
They’d solved that problem for me, but why? It had to be the prophet. They were
in contact with him and knew he was coming. Did they retreat so we would chase
them, allowing the groups to catch us in the open? They would slaughter us if
that happened. Or did they want to wait for the reinforcements in an effort to
avoid hemorrhaging men?

The men
and women under my command did as they were told, as we had practiced over and
over. Group one, my group, was to move to Paradise Valley Country Club, which
was nearby. The prophet was supposed to pass this spot. It had always been the
obvious route, but we had contingency plans to draw him there if need be. As it
was, the planes overhead confirmed that was where he was heading.

Originally,
group two was to keep fighting here so we would have the time we needed at the
golf course. Since the raiders were gone they could do the preferred thing and
fall back to a secondary line. If the band from Lander decided to turn around,
they would face a second ambush and, if absolutely necessary, our people could
slowly retreat into Casper itself, drawing the raiders after them. To simplify,
group two’s purpose was to give group one the time they needed to reach the
country club and deal with the prophet.

Maybe I
should have called these alpha and beta or something like that. Saying group
one and group two over and over seems rather tacky. I should also point out
that of the forty three individuals who were part of this fight, eighteen died
or were injured.

 

*
* *

 

“Our
scouts in place?”

Mary and
I were in the back seat of a SUV being driven by Terrance. She was still
working the radio and needed her hands free. My Jeep, along with our other
escape vehicles, was hidden in the city.

“All
three called in saying nothing in sight yet. The planes said they are still
moving fast.”

I was
glad the pipsqueak was dealing with the radio. Mary’s got excellent memory and
learned all the code phrases we’d developed with ease. Nothing being
transmitted was in normal, proper English, couldn’t do that, not with the
raiders likely listening in. It was a shame we didn’t have fancy, encrypted
radios like the military used. Most of ours were originally police issue or
every day consumer products.

The trio
of lookouts were placed along State Highway 220. They were not to reveal
themselves or fight. Their only duty was to provide us with information, from
the perspective on the ground, as to what was going on. The furthest was four
miles out, the nearest across the highway from the country club.

“Anything
from group two?”

“Nothing,”
she replied. “They’re getting set up like they’re supposed to. No one’s
followed them.”

We had
taken the same route as group two, not splitting off until we were out of
sight. Hopefully, none of the wounded raiders lying in the street would witness
or realize we had separated. It was very possible, probable, that they were
communicating with the prophet.

“We’re
here,” said Terrance.

I’d
noticed that, it being obvious, but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s
get in position.”

Ah, the
joys of being really, really sneaky. You’re going to love this, unless you’re
some sort of whiny liberal pacifist who thinks we should have tried talking to
the raiders, attempted diplomacy, as if that ever did any good.

“Behind
the building,” I ordered.

Everyone
hurried to the concealed position. Additional vehicles were nearby. These served
as an extra backup that could take us into Casper where we could either slip
into the sewers and make our way to the garage where my Jeep was parked or
simply go there directly, depending on whether or not we were being pursued.
Finally, we would scatter and make our way to the fire station.

Carlson
was waiting for us. “Green light on your mark.”

“Excellent.”

 

*
* *

 

“Second
just said they passed him,” announced Mary, “and group two told me that the
raiders from Lander haven’t come back. Some of the wounded managed to stumble
away, but most by the airport are still squirming and screaming.”

“Tell
them it’ll be happening soon and to head for the final position as soon as they
hear the signal. We’ll meet them there.”

The
second lookout was two miles away. It was almost time.

“Sure
this will work Carlson.”

He
laughed, a deep, disturbingly malicious sound. “It’ll work.”

The man
was a Vietnam vet, having been involved with bomb disposal. After getting back
to the states, he’d found jobs doing demolition work with various mining and
construction companies. With more than four decades of constant, uninterrupted
experience, it was safe to say that Carlson knew explosives inside and out. The
man was a true professional.

“Your
call then. Set them off as you see fit.”

I wasn’t
even going to pretend to know enough to give the commands myself.

“This
will be loud,” warned Carlson, “and stay where you are. All sorts of unpleasantness
will be flying about.”

This was
not an understatement. The explosion was massive enough to shake the ground
beneath our feet. Mary even grabbed a nearby wall for support. It was followed
by several more.

“That
was loud,” observed Dale.

Tara
nodded.

“Warned
you, didn’t I?” The explosives expert was grinning.

The
prophet’s force was not as clumped as the raiders in the past had been, spread
out even more than the group from Lander – I guess they’ve been learning from
their mistakes as well – but due to the need to stay on the highways, caused by
their use of Harleys and other street bikes, it remains relatively easy to set
traps. We didn’t do this with the northern band just in case it came first, as
it did, because we didn’t want to give the prophet’s group any prior warning of
what we might be capable of. Likewise, we chose the outer edges of Casper
because they might start branching off upon reaching the town. It was a lot of
work, and a gamble, but it paid off.

Under
Carlson’s guidance, loads of dynamite and other explosives were recovered from
mining sites, and, just so you know, we have plenty more where this came from,
which was forwarded to both Yellowstone and the castle. Pits were dug and
filled. Ball bearings, nuts and bolts, nails, and the like were gathered
together and packed on top. Rounding it all out was a series of wires, also
buried, that led to the control box resting before Carlson.

Because
the raiders were so spread out, it was impossible to catch more than half in
the blast area, although that was enough for our purposes. The first explosion
went off just as the lead riders reached the placements closest to Casper. That
threw motorcycles and riders into the air. There wasn’t a pile up, since those
following were mostly able to stop in time, but with the speed at which the
raiders were traveling, many more drew in close, often coming to a halt next to
their fellows.

The
second blast, following once Carlson decided he had as many in place as he was
likely to get, was in the middle of the prophet’s forces. This was
significantly larger. Being the placement furthest from the city, it was
intended to wreck the road and prevent those within the killing zone from
finding an easy way out.

Hundreds
were inside this quarter mile stretch, and hundreds died as the claymores
Carlson crafted exploded, sending the nails and other bits of metal flying
horizontally into bodies. These were lined up on both sides of the highway. In
some cases they were dug into the ground. Others had been concealed in steel
barrels made to look like trash cans. We’d even painted those green with white
lettering saying not to litter.

Following
the claymores, twelve seconds after, were several more bombs that had been
buried alongside the road. There were none directly beneath the pavement. We
hadn’t wanted to take the time breaking through and then trying to patch it again.
It didn’t make much of a difference, if any. They were placed one hundred feet
apart, along the entire quarter mile we’d designated. It was glorious, and I
had no doubt that nightmares would follow.

“I see
the prophet!” exclaimed Mary. “He’s in the back, standing in the bed of a
pickup.”

Tara
grabbed her sniper rifle, but Carlson beat her to it. The final portion of our
trap, which had assumed plenty would be missed by the explosions, was to set
off the firebombs. These were not placed along the length of the targeted trap
area, being instead outside its confines along the highway where those raiders
thus far unaffected stood.

The
bombs, all of them gasoline or oil based, went off. Some rose as fireballs,
others scattered burning liquid across the raiders. The death toll wasn’t
nearly as high as that caused by the claymores and traditional explosives, but
it was just as terrifying. Best of all, the prophet was hit. That bastard got
it in the back. His leather jacket went up, as did his hair. Some idiot – I say
this from my point of view – grabbed him, pulling the man down so the fire
could be smothered.

Only one
was left, and Carlson gleefully set it off. This was the largest explosion yet.
A concrete pipe passed beneath the highway, allowing rain water to get by. It
was through here that many of the wires ran, and it was in here that we packed
a particularly large bundle of dynamite. The road, already thoroughly trashed,
was now nothing but a memory.

“Time
for us to go,” I answered.

“We can
keep fighting,” suggested Terrance.

“Not a
chance. They won’t come in big groups again, probably never. They’ll sneak in
at night, small squads, coming from all directions. We can’t defend against
that, not with what we have. No, we did all we can.”

 

*
* *

 

It was
after dark when we reached the fire station. As much as I hate traveling by
night, this region was clear of both obstructions and the walking dead.
Besides, no one wanted to linger. We’d hurt them bad, really bad, probably
enough to get them to sit still for a while, or at least be extra cautious
before advancing. And the prophet was down, although not for good. Jenny later
told us that the planes saw him moving about, injured but apparently not
severely.

Our
lookouts got out as well. The one nearest the golf course had withdrawn before
they ever came within view. With us there he had become redundant. The other
two were well off the road and slipped out of their hiding places after sunset,
moving cross country to safety. Both had checked in and would join us by
morning.

 

Interlude – Lizzy’s Story

 

 

“I think
coyotes have been visiting,” commented Lizzy.

“Really?
What you seeing up there?”

The two
were using a private channel so they could speak without everyone constantly
interrupting and asking the same old questions over and over, such as where are
we going, when will we get there, how much longer. Both Lizzy and Marcus had a
second radio on the seats beside them in case someone called in with a real
problem or an emergency arose, but none were expected. The only significant
thing to happen during any of their trips was a brief encounter with a score of
zombies. The monsters had been stumbling along the highway creating a rather
annoying obstruction, so Lizzy, who led the convoy, stopped, ran into the grass
so they wouldn’t have to move the corpses later, and shot them one by one as
they approached.

“Remember
the pair of bodies by the red convertible? They’re all chomped up, way more
than the last time we passed by, and that wasn’t even all that long ago.
Probably be nothing but skeletons in a few more weeks.”

“Wish
more of them would hurry up and do that,” said Marcus. He’d see for himself in
a few minutes, taking up the rear position in his semi. “Likely buzzards or
rodents, the corpses being rotten to start with. Coyotes usually don’t touch
stuff that nasty, not unless they’re starving.”

“Whatever.
Not many walking around this time either. I’ve only seen two, and both were way
off on a side road.”

“Another
good thing Lizzy.”

This was
their fourth run to the Black Hills and by far the largest. The majority of the
trucks were loaded with food, including almost all their canned and boxed goods.
Briana had ordered the buried caches dug up. The little ones hidden away in car
trunks were still in place, but they’d be recovered as well before the final
group departed. Gasoline would also be siphoned from all the vehicles remaining
behind, both those by the castle and the ones they’d hidden throughout the
forest. Everything of value was to be taken.

There
was no shortage of people either, with Bruce the most notable. He would be
sorting the supplies and food in the Black Hills. As before, everything was to
be arranged by type, such as vegetables, soups, canned meat, etc. All
expiration dates had to be double checked, and those expiring soonest, or
already expired in many cases, were put at the front so they could be used
first. Most things lasted longer than the printed guidelines, but it was best
to pay attention nonetheless.

Unfortunately,
the trips were proving boring and tedious, putting Lizzy on edge. She
understood this was a good thing, particularly when one considered the number
of children accompanying them. Still, driving around was not something Lizzy
relished. There were more pressing matters that she should be helping with.
Maybe Briana would let Steph accompany Marcus the next time. She knew about the
Black Hills, being told after their glorious and oh so young leader decided
another person had to be in the know just in case something happened to the
rest of them. It was funny having Briana in charge. Lizzy could remember when
she’d been ordering the girl around. Still, she wasn’t about to rock the boat
and risk getting some psychotic idiot, like Cherie, seizing control. No, Briana
was good in her current role and needed to keep at it.

“Should
be the last of the big cargo runs,” said Lizzy. “There’s not much left, other
than the animals.”

“I think
we’ll be cutting some of those loose. We have livestock trailers for the big
rigs and horse trailers for the pickups, but that’s still not as much space as
everyone thinks. It’ll be breeding stock, chickens, and probably the horses.”

“Steph
and Briana can figure it out. As long as the dairy cows go, so we can keep on
making cheese, I’m good.”

Marcus
laughed. “Be a crying shame if you were deprived. Hey, those zombies really
were munched on.”

“What,
you didn’t believe me? Think I was lying? Asshole!”

 

*
* *

 

“Wall
looks good,” commented Marcus.

“Sure
does.” Laura took a seat on a fallen log. “Randall has some finishing touches
to complete, mostly with the gate and part of the battlements. Then we can
focus everyone on the cabins. We even cut into the rock on both hillsides so
the wall could go part way in. That was hard, but Randall says it’ll be much
stronger.”

“What
about the people?” asked Lizzy. “They holding up?”

She
found it difficult to focus, her mind constantly dwelling on Mary and the
dangers the girl might be facing, if she was still alive or not, if the raiders
had gotten their twisted hands on her, and the fact that there wasn’t a damn
thing she could do about the entire shitty situation. There was some thought
directed at Jacob too and a little toward the twins. However, those three were
adults and could handle themselves. They also understood what they were doing,
the potential consequences. There was no youthful exuberance getting in the way
of reality.

“They’ve
been mostly upbeat,” replied Laura. “We made a lot of progress, and that helps
with morale. Now, what sort of news do you have? Is this going to be good or
bad?”

“We are
talking super bad,” said Marcus. “I hate to say it, but things are not going
well in Wyoming. This isn’t even downhill. We’re talking about plummeting.”

Laura
sighed. “Figures. I sorta guessed it would be something like that, what with
how many people you brought. You know that I don’t have any place to stick
them, right? If you didn’t bring more tents, they’ll be sleeping under the
stars.”

“Got
plenty of those, so don’t be worrying.” Marcus took a swig from his water
bottle. “Last time we were here you had several cabins about finished. Can’t
you use them?”

“No. They’re
all complete, two rows of the things, running along our new road. We’re still
finishing that up, by the way. I’ll show you later, when we move back to where
the town’s going to be. Problem is that they’re being used to hold supplies and
anyone who’s sick or hurt. Can’t just stick things in U-Hauls like back at the
castle. Can’t leave all that much outside either. We’ve had rain several times,
and a bunch of cans had their labels ruined. I had some ladies write what they
thought was inside on the tin using permanent markers. I’m guessing they were
right maybe thirty, forty percent of the time.”

“Pain in
the ass,” muttered Lizzy, “and the kitchen people will love that. Not like they
aren’t facing enough problems as it is. Are you still dumping the cars in
Custer?”

“For the
most part. We’re also picking up every bit of trash in the lower valley and
getting rid of tire marks. We want it to look like no one has ever been there,
and it turns out doing so is way harder than I ever imagined. On another topic,
we marked the fields off. The farmers who came last time finally decided which
parts of the valley will be used to grow crops, what will be pasture, and
what’s to be left alone. It took them a long time too. They were arguing about
runoff and which areas would be muddy in the spring, what trees had to stay to
prevent erosion. I gave up trying to follow it.”

“Good to
have someone who knows what he’s doing,” said Marcus, “and it’s not like any of
us have a clue.”

Lizzy
got up and began to pace. “At least you’re making progress. Anything else we
need to tell Briana?”

“Rudy’s
still on the back side of the hills with his ropes, chipping away, and he’s out
there every day, barring bad weather.”

“How’s
that working?” asked Marcus.

Laura
shook her head. “Slow. Very, very slow. Rudy is making it harder to get in, but
it might be next summer before he’s done. And, he tells me over and over that
any decent climber will still be able to get up the rock faces. You should also
know that while everything else is moving relatively fast, there is no way we
are going to start on the citadel or any of the big buildings this year.”

“Damn,”
muttered Lizzy. “Jacob and Briana are going to be pissed. They don’t care so
much about that second wall, but I know they wanted the stone buildings, the
hospital most of all.”

“If we
can’t, we can’t,” said Marcus. “What will be done before it starts snowing?”

“Like I
said, the valley wall is about complete. The storage cave was finished a long
time back. We’ll have more cabins done, several hundred of them probably.”

“Hundreds?”
Lizzy hadn’t expected anything on that level.

“That’s
right,” declared Laura, smugly. “We’ve got those down pat, and we only have a
few designs so they’re basically standardized. We can get one up in a day, a
single day, per team, with the finishing work completed later. Also, they don’t
leak.”

“Are you
sure?” asked Marcus. “The ones at the castle are mostly empty because of that.
The folk living in tents tend to be dryer.”

“Ouch.
And after all the work we did.” Laura grimaced. “Ours are good. We check them
every time it rains, and so far all have stayed dry. Now, they do have dirt
floors, but we plan on grabbing rugs from Custer to help with that, maybe cut
carpeting out of the hotels. The windows are simple openings too, with no
glass, but we’re putting shutters on the outside and animal skins on the inside
to seal them up. Together, that seems to provide decent insulation, and it
keeps the rain out, even if the wind’s blowing it all over. That’s part of the
finishing work I mentioned. The only hard part is getting the wood. We have to
harvest pretty far off, so not to give away our position, and then cart it all
the way back here. We’ve already cut down all the trees in the valley that were
in the way of things we’re going to build. What didn’t go into the cabins was
stacked up to use as firewood.”

“Don’t
give me that look,” stated Lizzy, firmly. “I am not helping you cut down any fucking
trees.”

“We
can’t stay anyway,” amended Marcus. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning,
so if you need Briana to know anything else, tell us before then. We’ll give
everyone the official news from Wyoming and the castle after dinner. It might
even be the same as what the people we just dropped off have been spreading.
I’d give it right away, but there’s no sense in ruining appetites.”

“Just
their digestion,” laughed Lizzy, without any trace of humor. “We’re really
fucking considerate.”

“That
bad, for real?” asked Laura.

“That
bad,” confirmed Marcus.

 

*
* *

 

“Wagers?”

Lizzy
tossed the remnants of her sandwich out the window. “About what? About how long
it takes us to get home? How about whether or not I rip Briana’s head off for
letting Mary run off?”

“Damn. I
thought you’d finally let that go.”

Her
reply was a string a curses far above the norm.

“Honestly
girl,” said Marcus. “There is nothing you can do about it.”

“I am so
going to do something,” snarled Lizzy. “I have no fucking idea what…”

“Yeah,
well let’s just move on to my wager question. How many do you think we’ll be
taking on the next trip?”

“Jacob
is so dead, right after I kill Mary.”

Marcus
sighed and briefly considered switching the radio off. “Answer my question, and
I’ll let you vent to your heart’s content.”

“Fine,”
she snapped. “I’ll say, um, eighty percent of the people still there and
probably only one last trip after that to finish it up.”

“I can
see that. Maybe we’ll get to do something else then, something more fun than
driving the same roads over and over.”

“I am
completely with you there, but don’t count on it Marcus boy. The two of us are
going to be stuck sitting on our asses all winter. It’s going to be just like
last year. I know it.”

“First
of all,” he growled, his meaty hand tightening on the handheld radio, “don’t be
calling me boy.”

“Get
over yourself,” she replied, cutting him off. “I didn’t give a flying fuck
about political correct bullshit or delicate feelings before this shit
happened, and I care less now. First of all, you are always calling me girl.
Besides, if I called Jacob, Jacob boy, would you be all offended and
self-righteous. Hell no! You being black doesn’t mean shit. No one is special,
and I get to insult everyone. You deserve it too, always wearing those crappy
Doc Martens.”

“Lizzy…”
His annoyance and anger quickly evaporated. The woman did have something of a
point. “Let’s skip my choice of footwear, which I’ll say is better than yours,
so I can ask you a question, a more serious one.”

“What’s
that?” She slowed slightly after spying some movement in the distance. Turned
out to be a handful of cows grazing.

“You
ever think of switching teams?”

“What!
To the raiders?”

“Fuck
no. I’m talking about going to bed with men instead of women.”

“Oh, for
a second there… What the fuck do you mean fucking men! I’m not some bisexual
ninny who can pick and choose. There are no choices here! It’s the way I’m
wired!”

Other books

The Children by Howard Fast
Surrounded by Pleasure by Mandy Harbin
His Royal Love-Child by Monroe, Lucy
The Other Half of Life by Kim Ablon Whitney
Ladies Coupe by Nair, Anita
Ghost Medicine by Aimée and David Thurlo
Sovereign's Gladiator by Jez Morrow