Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (8 page)

“The
farms we’re familiar with are too far off,” said Steph. “We could get some of
those bison we passed by earlier instead. They’re probably still standing right
by the highway.”

“We’d
need a pickup to cart back the pieces,” I argued, “and it’s too cold to be
butchering one in the open.”

“No, no.
I mean for the hides. They have those great winter robes right now, thick and
warm.”

“I don’t
know about killing the buffalo for that,” said Mary, uneasily. “Isn’t that why
they almost ended up extinct?”

“First
of all young lady, they are not going to go extinct, even if we do kill a few
for their skins. There’ll probably be millions of them by the time you grow
up.” Steph moved closer. “And that sad chapter is the fault of Yankees. I’m not
one, so I don’t feel the slightest bit of guilt.”

“The
baseball team? Were they even around back then?”

I
couldn’t help but laugh.

“Baseball?
I’m talking about New England businesses. The skins were sent there.”

“It’s
true,” I said, before drifting off to slam an approaching zombie in the head
with my crowbar. We were too far away for the ones lurking in Chadron to see
us, but they’d certainly hear if I used a gun.

“They
used the leather to make belts for textile mills and factories.” Steph stared
at the teenager reproachfully. “Didn’t you take history in school?”

“Yes!
And I learned lots and lots of dates and names and not much of anything else.”

“Steph’s
right. If we want the hides, this is the time to get them. There’s no reason to
waste though. We’ll take all the best cuts of meat and pack it in snow so it
keeps for a while.”

“That’s
not enough,” remarked the redhead. “We need to build a proper smokehouse,
especially for when it gets warmer.”

“Fuck!
We just did the stupid chicken coop.” Lizzy broke a piece of ice off a nearby
tree and hurled it at Steph, missing by several feet. “Stop with all the
projects.”

“Why
don’t we just plug in more freezers?” inquired Mary. “There are lots we can
get.”

“You’re
not depending on the generator with smoking. Besides, the smokehouse would be
tiny, say seven by seven feet. That’s nothing.”

“Fine.”
There was no point in arguing. Briana would side with Steph, and no one wanted
to go against the pregnant woman. “Lizzy and I will get to work on that in a
few days. Just tell us what it’s supposed to look like.”

“More
zombies coming,” announced Mary, “out of the trees over there, three of them.”

They
were several hundred yards distant.

“Ignore
them,” I said. “We’re outta here.”

“Nope.
I’m going to shoot them.”

Lizzy
scowled. “Not a chance.”

The
teenager set her mouth in a firm line, that irritating look of absolute
determination all women master at an early age. Must be a genetic thing.

“I need
the practice.”

“What
practice! You just put a bullet in the head. That’s easy!”

“Not
super easy,” argued Mary. “Zombies don’t sit still.”

“Let her
do it Lizzy,” I suggested, “all three, by herself, up close.”

“The
things are right next to one another! She could get grabbed.”

“Then go
with her to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Yes!”

Mary
darted forward without waiting for Lizzy.

“Wait
until they’re fifteen feet away,” I called. “If they get closer than ten you
spend a week washing the dishes by yourself.”

Maybe I
should have Briana speak with her later. The girl’s enthusiasm was troubling.

*
* *

With our
trip to Chadron demonstrating that snow, while a hindrance, was surmountable,
discussions soon began on whether or not we should return to Martin, South
Dakota. We had visited the town the prior November. Finding the compound
destroyed, we didn’t linger, but the raiders had left a lot behind, supplies
which were likely still there. A log book also indicated that some of the
residents had been absent at the time. Between our desire to have as much food
on hand as possible and the very real need to add more people to our group, this
seemed a logical next step.

We
waited another week before leaving, taking advantage of an unseasonable warming
which did wonders in clearing the roads. There was no way to tell if this would
last – the Weather Channel was gone – and cold fronts dropping several feet of
snow were not unknown that time of year. Still, there was a high probability we
were good for several days, and it should only take one to get there, another
back, and whatever time we spent on site.

It was a
smaller party this time. As always, I took my Jeep Wrangler, and Lizzy had the
Grand Cherokee. Our third, Mary, would alternate between the two vehicles.
Steph wanted to remain behind to keep an eye on Johnny. During the intervening
months he had largely bonded with her, and a long absence would do him no good.
Also, with Kenneth in a questionable state of mind, I wanted someone I trusted
to keep an eye on Briana.

“Almost
there,” observed Mary, speaking into the radio.

Lizzy
was trailing me by a few car lengths.

“Faster
than I thought,” she replied. “The roads are just like the last time too. I
don’t think any of the wrecks are new. It doesn’t look like anyone else has
been this way.”

“Depressing.”

Mary
glanced at me.

“Got a
zombie,” continued Lizzy.

In the
rear view mirror, I watched her swerve to the side, cutting around the monster.

“They’re
filtering out of the cities,” I remarked. “Judging from Chadron and the places
we’ve passed on the way, I think most are attracted to towns for some reason.
They leave them and wander about, but whenever they find a new one, they seem
to linger for a while.”

“I
guess,” replied Mary. “You should slow down.”

We were
on the outskirts of Martin, and she was justified in being extra cautious.
Strangely, and in complete opposition to my prior statement, the streets
appeared to be empty. Not a single zombie was in sight, save the one we just
passed, something that just might be statistically impossible.

“This is
so not right,” whispered Mary, as I parked with the Jeep facing an open street
in case we needed to drive off quickly.

“Totally
fucked up!” declared Lizzy.

“Think
you can be any louder?”

“Like no
one heard us drive up squirt. It’s dead quiet out here, minus the dead. Barely
even any animals about town.”

I looked
around. Lizzy was correct. Normally, we saw raccoons or deer a plenty,
especially if the zombies were sparse on the ground. While completely ignored
by the shamblers, wildlife always went out of its way to keep a distance.

“There
might be people. Be careful.”

“Or the
animals ran off when we drove up,” amended Lizzy, “not like that never
happens.” She retrieved a M-16, along with a bandolier of clips.

Briana
had insisted, on pain of withholding her womanly affections, that we take
serious firepower with us instead of the pistols and rifles we normally used.
Now, pistols are the ideal weapon when fighting zombies. The things advance
slowly, allowing a person to shoot them in the head, one after another. You
can, of course, take them down at a distance with a rifle, but that was
difficult when you were on the move, entering and exiting buildings or going
down narrow alleys. No, it was the fear of encountering breathers that prompted
the upgrade in our weapons.

“Mine’s
prettier than yours,” mocked Mary, “and it’s shinier.”

“They’re
the same gun.” Lizzy motioned for the girl to get behind her. “I got point this
time. Jacob’s in the back.”

We
entered through a hole in the wall. Several buildings had originally been
connected by a series of walls, creating a massive courtyard and ample living
space for the survivors. When the raiders struck, they blasted their way
inside.

“Remember
all those bodies?”

I
nodded. “Yes.”

“Well,
what happened to them?” demanded Lizzy. “There aren’t even any bones left.”

“People
were here,” answered Mary. “I bet it was the ones that book said were out
exploring. They came back and found all their friends dead and buried them.”

“The
question then,” I said, “is if they are still around or not.”

“Want to
yell and see who comes?” asked the teenager.

“You do
it Lizzy,” I suggested. “You’re the loudest.”

“Hey!
Anyone here!” Her gaze shifted to me. “Just what do you mean by saying I’m the
loudest?”

“Lizzy
my dear, no one compares to you.”

Mary was
grinning.

“Asshole.”
She looked around. “Let’s check the buildings.”

We
targeted the structure that we knew from our prior visit was their warehouse
but found it empty. Every can and box of food, every last bottle of water was
gone. Slightly perturbed, we continued our search, checking each building in
turn, but there was nothing of value. Even the rooms being used as offices had
been stripped bare, with any records of the prior inhabitants removed.

“Whoever
did this was pretty thorough,” commented Mary, “way more than the raiders. They
only took the good stuff.”

“I think
we should head out, maybe drive around the town.”

Lizzy
nodded her approval, and we made our way back the way we’d come. We were almost
to the Jeeps when a voice called out.

“Hold it
right there.”

The man,
a large black fellow wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of Doc Martens – those two
items really don’t go together – stepped out from behind a tree. He was
carrying a shotgun, but it wasn’t pointed in our direction.

“And how
are you doing today?” I asked.

Lizzy
grunted, but she kept the barrel of her assault rifle angled toward the ground.

“I’m
just dandy, for the most part. Name’s Marcus. Don’t be trying anything. Got the
twins covering you, and they’re deadly shots. We’re talking Olympic gold medal
standard.”

“You
mean Tara and Dale?” asked Mary, as sweetly as she could.

The man
paused. “How would you know about them?”

I slung
my M-16 over one shoulder and took a seat on the hood of my Jeep. “Back in
November we got a message on the radio, not for us directly but a general
broadcast, saying some folk here needed help.”

“It was
pretty damn incomplete,” added Lizzy.

“True.
We didn’t know what was happening, so a few of us drove in to see for
ourselves. Found the place wrecked and everyone dead. There weren’t any
survivors.”

“Then
how do you know about the twins?” asked Marcus.

“Took a
log book we found upstairs,” I explained. “It gave a good accounting of all
that had happened up to that point. Plenty was mentioned about those two,
including details on how they helped set up the initial safe spots, saving
people that first morning.”

There
was a long pause. “What do you know of those who attacked?”

“Plenty,”
said Mary. She hopped up beside me. Lizzy remained standing. “They attacked us
too, twice.”

I
allowed her to relate the story of Steph’s run in when three of the bastards
attempted to rape her, followed by the entire band finding our settlement a few
days later and the end result where supposedly, hopefully, all of them fell to
either our guns or the zombies. Marcus seemed satisfied with that piece of
news. He also showed some sympathy about hearing of our own almost total loss,
particularly regarding the children. I took this as an excellent sign.

“Come on
out,” he called, after he finished with the questions and had a firm grasp of
what Mary shared.

Several
more drifted into view, all armed. I noticed Lizzy stiffen, but she was demonstrating
excellent restraint. The twins were the last to appear. The siblings were
silent, faces expressionless. Their eyes were sharp though, not darting about
frantically, but steadily scanning the area. While everything I read about them
was positive, I found the two disturbing. They simply didn’t look right.

“You all
are still living here then?” I asked.

Marcus
nodded. “Elsewhere in town, hidden away. Like you, we didn’t want to be moving
with winter setting in, and we were supplied here. No sense in leaving it all
behind.”

“Plan on
staying, or would you rather come back with us?”

That
shook him. It was fun throwing people off their game.

“You’re
inviting us to join your group without even knowing us?”

“We saw
what you built here.” I gestured at the compound. “Saw the playgrounds, the
school rooms. And, like I said, we read your log book. While I don’t agree with
all your organizational stuff, it was solid.”