The Zombie Wars: The Enemy Within (White Flag Of The Dead Book 8) (15 page)

Nebraska, Southwestern Edge

We were three weeks into Nebraska and were getting ready to head south. The majority of the army was back in the area, and we were going to do a major push into Texas. The plan was to sweep around the eastern section, down through the southern, and then hit the western part. We’d cross back up into Colorado about the same time the army that was sweeping through the northern states would be heading south, and we all would meet in the middle of Colorado. By that time, the spring should be here and the zombies would be in thaw mode, and it would be a good time to head home and take care of business before the fall and the next part of the war.

For the record, January sucks in Nebraska. There is little to stop the wind and snow, and in some places we saw drifts that were fifteen to twenty feet deep. If there was a zombie under that he could just stay there until spring.

Charlie was doing fine, and for a while he was held in an even higher esteem than he already was. But after a while there came some grumbling, and a few openly said that he shouldn’t be giving orders, he should just go do the job himself since he was immune.

That stopped when I sent two of the loudest voices back to the capitol. I had them driven by a trusted friend, and he said he would make sure they got there and dropped off without any ceremony. I didn’t need crap like that.

I had spent the last two weeks recruiting, and I hoped it would be enough. The rumors of a massive horde had started again, and I said out loud that I hoped it was true and that we found it soon. In this weather we could kill a zombie with a tap from a ball peen hammer.

I was out by myself, checking out farmhouses and small towns. I’d cleared three farms and a subdivision so far, with only fifteen frozen zombies to show for it. I’d run into several live souls who were surprised as hell to meet me.

I had to make my way carefully around here as the snow was all over the place, and there hadn’t been a plow for four years. A trio of houses was on the right, and I was hoping things would be the same. I pulled up to the first home and left the car in the road. I didn’t plan on getting stuck in anyone’s driveway and have to walk back to camp.

I trudged through the snow, making my way to the first house. It was a brick ranch-style home with a small shed out back. I knocked on the door first, since people who were still using their homes didn’t really appreciate having the front door kicked in, especially during the winter. Duncan found that out the hard way.

Two more knocks, and I tried the handle. The door opened easily, and I stepped inside. It was nice to be out of the wind, but it was still cold in the house. Everything seemed normal, and nothing seemed out of place. The furniture was all where it was supposed to be, and the general impression I got was this place had just been abandoned. I checked the cabinets for anything of value and came away with nothing.

The next house was like the first one, quiet and calm. I did find a small store of cans which I took with me, and then it was on to the last house. This one was another ranch, although it looked like there might be something in this one. I took the usual precautions and then went inside.

This house was different. The furniture was tossed all over the place, and there were dark stains sprayed all over the walls. Strange little chunks were here and there, and I didn’t need an explanation as to what those might be. I walked carefully through the house, seeing the small playpen, the clothes in the corner, and the pile of empty beer cans and garbage in the kitchen.

I walked with my Glock out, since it wasn’t easy to swing a log splitter indoors. The first bedroom was obviously a child’s with a crib and a small dresser. The crib was empty, and the dresser drawers were open. Clothing was on the floor and by the closet, telling me this was a quick exit.

I went further into the home and noticed blood trails on the floor. Whatever happened in the living room worked its way down the hall. A bloody handprint was by the doorknob, and I slowly pushed the door in with my gun.

Inside the bedroom, a man lay on his back, his hand extended up to the night table. He had been stabbed several times, and the murder weapon was still in his gut. His eyes stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing. He was dressed in grubby jeans and wearing a simple white tee shirt which was stained purple with blood.

The bedroom had been tossed as well, and I noticed a picture of a small family on the dresser. The man was there, smiling for the camera, with his baby girl and wife. The wife was barely smiling, and had her hair over her face. If I was a betting man, I’d say she had the remains of a shiner in the picture.

The scene was beginning to become clear. What I thought had been a zombie attack turned out to be a domestic murder. And if I was any judge, the woman killed her husband right when the world ended and there was no police to be found.

I went over to the side table and pulled out the drawer, curious as to what the man was trying to get to. Inside the drawer was a just a single cartridge for a .45 automatic.

I nodded to the dead man. “Looks like you got what you deserved, jackass, and you made sure your wife and child could defend themselves against the zombies. Good work.”

I left the house, not wanting to disturb anything, and a small part of me hoped the mother and her baby got away to safety.

Back at the car, the radio was squawking at me.

“John, are you there? John, come in! This is Tommy. John, you need to get back to camp, now!”

I picked up the microphone. “John here, Tommy. What’s going on?”

“John, you need to get back to camp. There’s a man here who says he needs to see you right away,” Tommy said.

“What’s this about?” I asked, turning the car around and using my previously made tracks to get back to camp.

“Just get back here. He says he knows about our army in the north.”

“What about them?”

“We’ve got some big trouble.”

“Be right there.” I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

Base Camp

Darnell and his daughter Alison had walked over fifty miles before they found a vehicle that could take them south. Everyone they tried had either a dead battery or bad gas. Alison finally found a car that would start, and that was only because it had been stored in a garage with its battery taken out and its fuel drained. Darnell had to find gas and a battery, and that took all of two days before they were able to get moving.

If he’d had his choice, Darnell would never have chosen this vehicle. It was a 1969 Camaro, electric blue with twin racing stripes over the hood and rear. The rear wheel drive was awful for driving in the snow, and the thing barely got decent gas mileage to get them anywhere. It took longer to forage for gas than it did to drive a few hundred miles. After two weeks in the thing, Darnell was ready to ditch it and find something else.

But that was when he ran into the first few fighters from the army. They were a couple of nice kids carrying really big weapons, and they politely pointed him in the direction he needed to go once he explained he need to see a man named Talon. The two boys smiled at Alison, and she smiled shyly back. Darnell was happy to leave that behind.

Another few days of travel found him at the camp of the largest gathering of people he had seen since before the Upheaval. People came out of their trailers, campers, and buses to look at the hot rod moving through the camp. It was an orderly place, and it looked like they were getting ready to move on.

Darnell asked a man where he might find Talon, and the man pointed to a small trailer attached to a king cab pickup truck. A fuel truck was slowly moving through the camp refilling vehicles before the journey. Six semi trucks were parked on the road as well, and Darnell could see several men and women taking out supplies and putting in supplies.

Darnell parked the car and got out, waiting for his daughter to get out as well. Several older gentlemen gave Darnell a thumbs up on his vehicle. At least he hoped it was his vehicle and not his daughter.

Tibbles knocked on the door of the trailer, and it was opened by a medium-sized man with light brown hair. He had a kind face, yet his eyes were penetrating. Darnell doubted he could get away with lying to this man.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Darnell Tibbles, and this is my daughter Alison. I need to see a man called Talon,” Darnell said.

Tommy looked at the man and his daughter, his eyes missing nothing.

“I’m Tommy Carter. John’s not here, but he should be back by the end of the day. You want me to send him a message?”

Darnell shrugged. “I need to talk to him. It’s about the army you sent north.”

“What about them?” Tommy asked.

“I think they are in serious trouble,” Darnell said simply.

“Come on in. You can tell Charlie and me about it,” Tommy said, holding the door open.

“Who’s Charlie?” Alison asked, stepping into the trailer.

“I am,” Charlie said. “Charlie James, Deputy Commander in Chief of the Army of the New United States. What can I do for you?”

Darnell and Alison were speechless for a moment. Charlie James was a huge man, with broad shoulders and thick arms and legs. He spoke in a kind voice, but the man radiated brute strength. Darnell had the odd thought that he had finally met the man who could take Cole Hobbes in a fight. Easily.

Darnell spoke for few minutes, relating what he knew about the settlement to the north, including the army that had passed by and the passing of the young man who had sent Darnell and his daughter south. Charlie’s eyes narrowed, and he quietly asked a question.

“You said the man you rescued from the woods told you they dropped their commander into a canyon?” Charlie’s voice was deep but quiet.

“Haggerty,” Tommy said softly. He excused himself and went towards the front of the trailer. Darnell heard him talking to someone on the radio, and then he came back.

“John’s on his way,” Tommy said to Charlie.

Charlie nodded. “Good.” He looked back at Darnell. “John will want to hear your story again.”

Darnell shrugged. “That’s fine.” He looked at the two men again.
Hobbes will never know what he turned loose
, he thought.

The group made small talk while they waited for John. Darnell told the men all he knew about the community, about Hobbes and his men, and the flight that nearly killed the two of them. Charlie nodded appreciatively at how the pair survived.

“Have you thought about where you might go after this?” Charlie asked.

“Not really,” Darnell said. “I wouldn’t mind going somewhere with less snow.”

“I hear that,” Tommy said.

Charlie ignored him. “We could use a welder in the capitol, but you’re free to go wherever you want.   There’s communities all over the place that would welcome you and your daughter. I would bypass Missouri, though.”

“Thanks. We’ll consider it.”

There was the sound of a car pulling up outside, and Tommy looked out the window.

“John’s here,” he said.

Darnell didn’t really know what to expect. He figured this John Talon would be some sort of ex-military, a short fireplug of a man, with a barrel chest and a perpetual cigar jammed in his teeth.

The man who entered the trailer was the complete opposite of Darnell’s expectations. He was tall and broad shouldered, with powerful arms and hands. He moved like a large predator, deliberate and purposeful. If Charlie had impressed Darnell, John impressed him more. He looked like a man you would have to kill if you wanted to stop him.

John’s eyes found Darnell and locked in, sliding into the chair on the other side of the table. He never broke eye contact as he spoke.

“I’m John Talon. You are?”

“Darnell Tibbles. This is my daughter Alison.”

“Hi,” Alison said in a small voice.

“Hello. Pleased to meet you both. Tommy says you have some information about some friends of ours?” John asked.

Darnell spent the next ten minutes going over what he had told Charlie and Tommy. Darnell watched John’s face tighten when he told of the dying man’s recounting of the death of their leader, and he could almost see the gears turning in John’s head as he thought about what he had been told.

After Darnell finished, John nodded.

“You have my thanks, Mr. Tibbles. I owe you a debt. If you need anything, just say so. We’ll provision you and set you up to go wherever you want. Is that Camaro yours?” John asked.

“Yes,” Darnell answered. “Please trade me for something else. That thing is useless in snow unless you like sledding”

Tommy smiled. “We’ll get you something better.”

Charlie looked at John. “What’s the play?”

John sat back and folded his arms. “Mr. Tibbles, I would ask that you find me the location of that community on a map.” John turned to his comrades. “Tommy, get Duncan in here. You two will be leading the army south through Texas. Charlie and I are going to go north to get our people. They’ve already been captives three weeks, and I don’t intend for them to stay that way much longer. “

Charlie and Tommy stood up and went about taking care of business. Charlie put a road map of Montana in front of Darnell and handed him a pen.

Darnell shook his head. “You’re going up to get your people with just yourself and Mr. James there?”

John looked at Darnell for a long moment, and Darnell actually felt a little nervous.

“That’s the plan. People who agreed to fight for the country and take my orders are up there, and I will not leave them to die. This Hobbes character killed three of my men. He will answer for it,” John said. “Besides, I’ll have an army with me on my way south.”

Darnell wasn’t much of a religious man, but right now he had the utmost faith that John Talon was going to handle this situation.

“It’ll be freezing cold in those mountains,” Darnell said.

“That’s fine,” John replied. “It will be warm by the time we get there.”

“How’s that?” Alison asked.

Charlie answered that question for John.

“Because we’re bringing Hell with us.”

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