Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (9 page)

“Jacob
never agrees with anyone completely,” said Mary, “except maybe with Briana, but
she’s his girlfriend so he kind of has to. That or be puked on.”

“Puked
on?” inquired a scrawny, sickly looking woman. This was Sofie, someone we would
soon grow close to.

“Morning
sickness,” I explained. “And that only happened the one time.”

“Still a
funny story,” countered Mary.

“I’ll
tell you what,” said Marcus. “Why don’t you follow us back to our place, and we’ll
talk about it over dinner. We keep the area clear, but I don’t like being so
exposed, and this might just be one long conversation.”

*
* *

We spent
the night with the group, staying up late as we swapped stories and discussed
all the excellent reasons why they should relocate to the Nebraska National
Forest. I realize I was rushing things, trying to get us united so quickly, but
there was a perfectly good reason behind this, several actually. First of all,
we needed more people. There weren’t enough of us at the castle, not to defend
in case of attack, not even enough to keep a proper watch.

Additionally,
these people, from what we read about them, were good folk. That was the key
factor. I wasn’t inclined to invite just anyone in. If we came across a lone
stranger like Kenneth, we’d accept him provisionally. In case of a larger
group, I might force them to live somewhere else until we got to know one
another better.

Also,
for those who don’t remember, the twins and their companions had been tasked
with defending the settlement. They were almost always outdoors taking down
zombies or scouting the area. All were proven fighters, and they knew what they
were doing. Tara and Dale might not seem right in the head, but I could accept
that, considering their other talents.

Best of
all, according to the log book we recovered, these people had previously
refused any sort of leadership position. They were unlikely to argue with the
fact that I was in control of the castle. Way back at the beginning I had been
hesitant to take power and tried to be as accommodating as possible. That
policy had only led to trouble. My word was now law, and Lizzy was quick to
point this out to Marcus.

“No
committees then?” he asked.

“Nothing
like that,” replied Mary. “We hate committees.”

“We
never had any,” snapped Lizzy.

“They’re
still evil. Everyone says so.”

“They are
pretty complicated at times,” agreed Marcus. He tossed his cowboy hat on an
empty seat and stretched his legs. They had established themselves inside an
old store, the exterior intentionally scarred by fire in order to give the
impression it wasn’t worth looting. “Took forever to get things done.”

“What
was done was mostly good,” said Sofie.

The
others were present, but they were largely staying out of the conversation,
seemingly content to let Marcus take the lead.

“So,
what are your rules? Tell me it’s not books and pages of guidelines.” He held
up a thick binder. “This was the latest version of what we lived with.”

“We did
write them down,” I admitted, “but it’s only a few pages long. Essentially, the
rules are that everyone must contribute to the wellbeing of the settlement.
That means all defend or keep watch as necessary. Otherwise, we let people pick
and choose what they like, whenever possible. Lizzy and I usually focus on
scavenging. Steph is in charge of the animals and any crops we plant. We are
going to do a huge garden this year, but there are so many farms nearby that
we’ll be using those for things like corn or wheat. When we had more people, we
had those who liked to cook, those who were good at supervising the little
ones, and so on.”

“We also
tolerate no violence toward one another. I’m not talking about getting into
arguments and such. I mean actual violence. If you cause someone real harm or
kill him without being able to claim self-defense or some other valid reason,
you get tied to a tree with arms bared and tourniquets in place. That’s so the
zombies can munch on you without you quickly bleeding to death. Same for rape.
Banishment is possible for refusing to do your share.”

“We’re
big on self-defense,” said Mary. “Everyone is allowed to defend themselves. We
encourage it even.”

Lizzy
rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Sofie
nodded. “That’s good, but I want to know how often it comes up.”

“Yeah,
and tell us how often you see zombies and people,” said Marcus.

“Not too
many zombies. Chadron is just north of us. It has several highways going
through and tends to gather a good number of the dead, despite not being that
large. There are other, smaller towns around the forest as well. Those tend to
be a lot more sparse. We see them on the highways of course, but not all that
many. It was much worse down in Texas and Oklahoma when we were closer to the
big cities. We almost never see them on the trails or service roads, but we try
not to make too much noise so none are attracted in the first place. Between
the attack and meeting you, we found only a single person. That’s it. I don’t
think there are that many living people near us.”

“We
haven’t seen anyone either, not since last fall. On the other hand, there have
been lots of the dead. Being in the middle of town, the way we are, we get them
all the time.” Marcus sighed. “Our placement, then and now, really isn’t as
good as it could be.”

“You had
a solid setup,” said Lizzy. “If not for the shithead raiders, you would have
held out. Nothing you could have done against them.”

The
twins looked at each other.

Marcus
glanced over at the pair. “I bet Tara and Dale are disagreeing.”

“We
didn’t see the battle, but it looked like they blew holes in the wall right off
and rushed straight into your compound. They had hundreds of people too.” Lizzy
was standing her ground. “Another two or seven guns wouldn’t have done much.”

“Maybe,
maybe not.” He shrugged. “No way to tell. Might have had prior warning if we’d
been around town instead of out in the countryside. That would have helped.”

“Helped
us,” I said. “I think the castle would have folded immediately otherwise. Might
have regardless, but then all the zombies showed up and finished the job.”

“I like
the idea of being hidden away in the forest,” offered Sofie. She was shaking
slightly. “As long as we didn’t broadcast our location or go around telling
everyone where we were, we would be a lot safer.”

“Your
castle thing seems kind of small.”

“It is
at that Marcus,” I replied, “very small.”

“Fucking
tiny box bedrooms,” clarified Lizzy. “You can barely fit a decent bed in one.
Have to haul the furniture up with ropes and stick it through the windows too,
just to get it inside.”

“We planned
on expanding later,” I continued. “We built what we did fast, before it started
snowing. We just wanted something safe and strong at first, and if we do get
more people, we can revisit those plans and make it larger this summer.”

“Next
time we’re putting in proper plumbing too,” said Lizzy. “We have hot water in
the bathhouse, but not enough of it. All winter it was either a bath with a few
inches of water or a bucket and sponge.”

“We’ve
been doing the sponge thing to.” Marcus looked over at the others. “We need to
talk about this in private.”

“Not a
problem.”

“Well
then Jacob, you and your two ladies can turn in if you want. Sofie will show
you the extra rooms, if she’s up to it.”

“I’m not
that bad,” she retorted. The woman rose slowly and unsteadily. “This way.”

*
* *

We
returned to the Nebraska National Forest two days later, having spent a full
day helping Marcus and his friends pack everything up. By this, I do mean
everything. Marcus was a truck driver and an experienced mechanic with a
gorgeous, pristine big rig that was in perfect working condition. They also had
most of the recovered supplies from the original settlement sitting in a nearby
trailer. That only needed to be hitched up and driven off. The remainder was quickly
gathered and loaded as well.

Along
with the tractor trailer, there was another large work truck filled with fifty
five gallon drums of diesel. They had been gathering that from the start, both
to keep Marcus up and running and for their generators. Rounding out the convoy
were a few pickup trucks and SUVs.

It was
just prior to departing when one of the twins finally said something to me.

“You
have guns from the raiders?” asked Tara.

“Over a
thousand of them, and I mean that literally. Most are military issue. Not sure
where they got them, although we know some bases were abandoned or overrun
early on. They might have picked them up from that sort of place.”

“I want
some.”

That was
pretty blunt.

“You can
take whatever. Most of the stuff is sitting in the back of U-hauls. We sorted
by the type of ammo each uses.”

I received
a slight nod, possibly of approval. Then she left to join her brother.

*
* *

Steph
and Briana were delighted to have so many new faces joining us. Johnny was a
bit put out that there were no kids to play with, but that was understandable.
The massive amount of supplies we brought back increased the sense of success
further. Realistically, we were approaching the point of having more than we
could ever feasibly use, but when you considered the overall situation, hording
remains a viable strategy.

Our
first group dinner was roast venison – Steph had bagged a deer earlier that day
– which was met by near universal acclaim. Only Kenneth demurred, stating he
was now a vegetarian. That got a lot of strange looks, coming out of the blue
the way it did, but if he wanted to gorge on beans and canned veggies instead
it was no water off my back. The twins ate quickly, before walking out with a
comment to the effect that they would be back in a few days.

“They’ll
be scouting the area,” explained Marcus. “Anytime we went somewhere new, they
would go off for a while, getting a feel for the place.”

“There’s
not much to see,” said Briana, “and they can walk all over the forest in a few
days easy. Well, there’s a pile of rotting corpses left over from the zombies and
raiders. Mary, hurry up and tell them where that is. Don’t want them wondering
about it or getting the wrong idea.”

The
little blonde nodded and sprinted from the common hall.

“We
weren’t in a position to do more than just haul them off,” she finished. “There
were just so many.”

“We were
barely able to do that,” added Lizzy. “They’ll be nothing but skeletons by
summer time. Maybe we can dump them in a hole then. Damn eyesore now.”

Interlude – Marcus’s Story

Marcus
Rigby was working as an independent long haul trucker when the zombie
apocalypse began. More specifically, at the time of the change he’d been
traveling cross country, blatantly and intentionally disregarding the rules
concerning how many hours he could drive in a single day – damn those pesky
safety guidelines. His first indication that something was wrong came when
another truck, a couple hundred yards ahead, swerved violently to the right and
flipped onto its side. Marcus immediately stopped in order to render aid.

“You
okay in there?” He climbed up on the cab and peered through the cracked
passenger window. “Can you hear me?”

There
were no lights, and Marcus couldn’t make out any movement. Was the driver
unconscious? Worse? He reached for the door handle, but it was locked. Unsure
what else to do, he took off his shirt, wrapped it about one beefy fist, and
punched through the safety glass. Carefully reaching down, he felt for the
switch. With a click the door was unlocked.

“Shoulda
brought a flashlight,” he berated himself, as he climbed inside and was again
searching for the appropriate button. His fingers brushed across the dashboard,
and the interior of the cab was suddenly illuminated. “Ah…”

The
driver was dead, blank eyes staring at nothing. Marcus had no idea as to the
cause. The body was banged up, but the head was intact and the neck didn’t
appear broken. Maybe he had a heart attack or stroke while driving. Wouldn’t be
the first time something like that happened.

“Shit!”
he exclaimed, when the man unexpectedly moved. “I thought you were…”

Eyes
turned to regard him, and Marcus watched in confusion as a thick gray film
quickly covered the orbs. It made no sense. Tears? A chemical? Nah, there was
nothing in the air, and this wasn’t a tanker truck. Besides, he felt nothing
strange. Medical condition maybe?

“Let’s
get you outside. Can you move? Anything broken?”

The
other driver said nothing, but he stretched both arms toward Marcus.

“Don’t
worry. I’ll be getting you loose.”

He
pushed down on the seatbelt catch, and the thing that had so recently been a
human being, freed of the restraint, pulled itself upward, mouth opening in
anticipation.

“Whoa!
Calm down now!” Marcus forced him back. “Just settle down, so we can get out of
here.”

Again,
the other driver’s only response was an attempt to clamp his teeth onto bare
flesh. Marcus was beginning to realize something was wrong – while telling this
story, he was more than a little embarrassed at how long this took, not that I
can really fault him – and tried to move away. Grasping fingers locked
themselves on his legs, and the face pressed up against his jeans, trying to
chew through the fabric. Beginning to panic, Marcus shook violently, hoping to
knock the zombie loose. Then he managed to get a boot on top of the man’s head.
A strong push sent him tumbling back.

“God
damn!”

Marcus
climbed through the passenger door. Inside, the zombie regained its feet and moved
to follow. Unsure what else to do, Marcus slammed the door shut and hopped off,
landing heavily on the pavement. Hurrying back to his own rig, he got inside,
secured the doors, and reached for the CB.

“Anyone
listening out there?” He didn’t know what frequency to try. Marcus rarely used
the thing, aside from when he was traveling with other trucks. Even then, he
tended to use his cell phone more often than not. “Anybody at all?”

No one
responded. That could be bad, or it could just be his being parked in the
middle of nowhere, in the empty wilds of South Dakota.

An open
palm slapped against the window.

“Hell
with this,” he muttered, starting the engine and pulling out.

*
* *

Reaching
Martin, South Dakota several hours later, a little past dawn, Marcus was
shocked to see actual, no doubt about it zombies in the streets, and unlike the
fellow he’d encountered earlier, many of these were mutilated corpses with
gaping wounds or missing limbs. He’d caught the news on the radio, but hearing
about a quarter of the planet dying, of cities falling and seeing the results
firsthand are very different things.

He
briefly considered running some of the monsters over, but Marcus wasn’t
confident enough in his ability to determine who was a walking corpse and who
might just be injured or disabled. And with so many normal people running about,
using his truck as a weapon would likely get somebody killed. Instead, he
approached a nearby band of survivors.

“You all
might want to climb up on top,” he suggested, getting out. Marcus pointed to a
small ladder on the back of the cab. “You can get on the trailer easy enough,
and it should hold your weight. Just stay near the edges. Don’t sit in the
center.”

The
single armed man – he carried an old style Winchester repeating rifle – looked
the newcomer over, then nodded. “Better than standing in the street.”

The
locals never hesitated, keeping out of easy reach being the safer option. He
and Marcus were the last ones up.

“You
seem to have things under control,” noted the trucker. “This is nothing like
what I heard about on the radio.”

There
were numerous small groups in sight, often just two or three individuals
working together, marching about, shooting any zombie they came across and
going in and out of buildings.

“You got
news, recent stuff?”

Marcus
nodded. “Said total chaos almost everywhere. Highways are jammed with people
trying to get away. We’re talking millions dead. I haven’t seen any of it
myself, but that’s what they’re saying.”

“I can
believe it. Was like that at first, just as the sun came up. We have an awful
lot dead. My wife…” He trailed off and was silent for a few minutes. Marcus did
not press. “The Zablockis are the only reason it’s this organized now.”

“Who?”

“Twins,
nice enough kids but a bit off. Hell, whole family is weird. They drove up and
started shooting, just killing em, one after another. That showed the rest of
us that we could fight back.”

The man,
Harry, pointed the pair out when they passed by in the distance, and Marcus let
out a whistle when he saw Tara drop a zombie at the far end of the block, a
perfect shot in the middle of the forehead.

“Yep,
they’re bad asses, no doubt about it.”

*
* *

The town
was largely secure by lunch time, and real organizational efforts began shortly
thereafter. Not wanting to get involved, and still unsure what he was going to
do personally, Marcus remained aloof and spent the night in the sleeper portion
of his cab. As such, he missed the second round of panic and terror when some
of the injured, those who had been bitten and succumbed to the trauma or blood
loss, died and returned. This caught the survivors by surprise, and quite a few
were killed or infected.

Early on
the second day, additional refugees began to stagger in from outlying farms and
neighboring towns, along with those who had been traveling. Others departed, trying
to reach loved ones or home. A few who’d left apparently changed their minds
and reappeared several days later, but within a week it settled down and they
began work on a single large compound to house everyone.

Marcus
decided to hang around – from all he’d heard and seen during the intervening
time, the man decided these people were way up on the list of having a clue –
and he eagerly pitched in. But, there was one quirk about his personality that
caused some discomfort. Marcus hated being in one place for any length of time,
and this wasn’t a mild dislike. The man felt a deep seated need to be moving
and traveling. It was why he had become a truck driver in the first place.

The
myriad committees established to govern the community sympathized. Unfortunately,
there wasn’t a lot to be done. Marcus was one of only a handful who knew how to
drive the rigs. Those trucks were important for moving supplies and equipment,
making it essential that he be available to participate. Still, an arrangement
was soon worked out. Marcus would drive anytime a long trip was required, while
others would handle in-town work. The remainder of the time he would patrol
with the free roaming security teams.

*
* *

“So, how
do you do this?”

Marcus
was addressing the twins who, while clearly not in charge of anything, were the
center of the outer defense system.

“We
shoot zombies,” said Dale.

“In the
head,” added Tara, deadpan and without any indication of humor.

He
nodded. “I got that part already. I mean, do you have a specific area you check
each day? Use a grid pattern?”

The
twins looked at each other, then back to him.

“I’m
guessing not.”

“We kill
the zombies,” reiterated Dale, “all of them.”

“You
might want a better plan than that,” pressed Marcus. “Maybe set up a series of
perimeters to focus on so you aren’t way off miles to one side and letting the
fuckers come up and attack on the other.”

Again
Tara and Dale looked at each other in silence.

“You
plan,” she said. “We’ll shoot the zombies, in the head.”

Her
brother nodded his agreement.

And that
was how Marcus became the managing director of their zombie elimination force.
It worked out fairly well too. He’d always had a head for logistics and
organization, and unlike the misfits who seemed to be the only ones willing to
take on the job, Marcus had no problem dealing with the committees. He smoothed
over conflicts and ensured they always had what they needed.

Normally,
there were several groups operating simultaneously, with at least one
patrolling the city during the day and the remainder ranging further out. Tara
and Dale were inseparable, and while they could theoretically do more if they
occasionally went in different directions, no one bothered to suggest it. They
also had the unnerving tendency to vanish without warning. Again, Marcus didn’t
complain. He just made certain that if they were needed for a project to let
them know in advance. As long as they clearly understood what was expected, and
how that would help rid the world of zombies, they were diligent enough.

*
* *

“Volunteers
are needed,” announced Marcus, during their weekly briefing. “We have to do
some long range hikes before winter sets in. See if there’s anything to see,
rescue any farmers who might still be on their own, that sort of thing.
Probably take a while, week or more. It’ll be slow afterwards, so this might be
your last chance to really stretch your legs.”

Dale
raised a hand, indicating he and his sister would go.

“How
dangerous will this be?” asked Sofie.

“No
clue, but it will be in the countryside, not along highways. That means fewer
dead heads, and it’s better than sitting around town, seeing and doing the same
old all the time. We get to march through woods and fields and cross icy cold
streams.”

That
elicited several count me outs.

“I might
as well come along then,” she said, mostly to herself.

That was
fine with Marcus, especially considering the hard time Sofie had been having.

“Anyone
else? Have to have more than four.” He looked at the faces before him. “Extra
cookie rations for the volunteers.”

In the
end, eight people agreed to go.

*
* *

“Something
is wrong,” declared Tara, unexpectedly.

She
changed directions, leaving the street and entering a darkened doorway, her
brother right behind her. Not seeing anything, but also unwilling to question
her competence, Marcus motioned for the others to follow them inside.

“Where
we going?” asked Sofie.

He
shrugged and continued to trail along behind as the pair led them to the roof
of the small building. Exiting, the twins dropped to their stomachs and crawled
to the far edge for a better look. The others, copying their actions, joined
them. While their vantage wasn’t perfect, they had a good view of the compound
and the bodies around it.

“What
the fuck happened?” asked Sofie.

“All
dead,” said Dale.

“Buzzards
and crows are eating them,” added Tara.

“Anyone
see anybody alive?” asked Marcus. “Take a good look.” His tone was harsh.
“Those wounds all look to be from guns.”

“Think
they’re still here, the ones who did it?”

“Not
sure Sofie, and we aren’t moving until we have a better idea.”

“We
can’t just stay here,” said another. “Someone might be alive. They may need
help.”