Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI (27 page)

“I was pleasantly surprised that you joined me for my morning swim today, Miss Carrell,” Barnes nearly purred as he stood gazing out the dining room windows. “But you barely said a word—you just swam laps like an Olympian in training and then disappeared back to your room for the rest of the day. Perhaps you were trying to impress me? I wouldn’t have pegged you as such a strong swimmer. In any event, I’m glad that you could join me for dinner this evening.” Barnes seemed to be in an unusually good mood.

Andi had gotten up for an early swim with Barnes on the off chance that she might be presented with an opportunity to drown him. She knew it was a long shot since he’d said he was an excellent swimmer and he always had guards lurking nearby. Still, she so enjoyed the fantasy of cracking him over the head with an umbrella stand and tossing his body in the pool that she’d decided she had nothing to lose by showing up to take a dip at 5:30. Not surprisingly, the water had been cold, and Barnes was well-guarded, so she’d had no reason to linger.

“I was told that you’d summoned me, and I’m actually rather hungry,” Andi said as she took a seat at the table behind Barnes. She hated to see him in such good spirits—that usually meant disaster for people he considered to be his enemies.

Barnes sat down and poured them both a glass of champagne. “We’re celebrating tonight, my dear. We’ve reached one of my milestones ahead of schedule.”

Andi knew that Barnes wanted her to ask him for the details, and she was usually averse to giving him what he wanted, but in this case she had her own reasons to go fishing. “What milestone is that?”

“One million infected—or hunters as you call them—securely contained and just waiting for my orders, and another million well on the way.” Barnes eyed Andi with satisfaction. “Can you even imagine what a million hunters, all attacking in unison, will look like?”

“Probably not,” she admitted casually, “but I wonder if you can imagine the number of humans it will take for you to maintain control of those million hunters.”

“You needn’t be concerned, dear. I’ve never been short on imagination, and as commander in chief of the military forces of the United States, I don’t lack manpower for anything.”

Andi cocked her head and looked at Barnes quizzically. “What United States? You really must have a vivid imagination if you think that any semblance of a united America remains.”

“You have no idea how far my influence extends or what resources I have at my disposal. And as president, I represent hope and security to every surviving peon from here to the Atlantic. You should see how they fall all over themselves for the chance to enlist with my men.”

Andi laughed bitterly. “Only because they don’t know what they’d be getting into—”

Barnes interrupted, “Don’t be naïve—it’s so unattractive. You know history; you know that people are attracted to power. They want a strong leader so they don’t have to think. My soldiers, the human ones, are incredibly loyal.”

“You inspire fear, not loyalty.”

It was Barnes turn to laugh. “Ultimately, what’s the difference?” He raised his glass. “Let’s toast to loyalty. Oh, and especially to my loyal operatives in Utah—it’s so nice to have up-to-date intelligence about the settlements, training facilities, and ever-expanding outposts—but I especially enjoyed the emergency evacuation protocol for the entire territory.”

Morning came all too quickly for the temporary inhabitants of the depot; a cold, clear dawn greeted the army as most of the soldiers warmed up their engines while a few transported supplies and gear down to the river bank a few miles away. The convoy was an impressive sight in the frigid sunlight: over a hundred military Hummers and trucks with trailers attached. Luke knew that the formation was rather hollow, with only one or two people in each vehicle, but he also knew that the emptiness offered room for his force to grow. An hour after dawn, right on time, Zach’s voice came over the radio and told him they were ready to roll. Luke took one last look at their new creation, his heart filled with a fierce pride at what his troops had accomplished. Tina, John, and the forces from Vicksburg would arrive in a few days to continue the salvage operation. With one last look at the depot, Luke gave the order everyone was waiting for, “Move out!”

Fifteen minutes later, the small contingent assigned to the river broke off from the convoy and clamored into the waiting boats. Not too long after that, Luke remembered why he was sick and tired of travelling by water as the first of many icy sprays splashed over the gunwale and into his face. The small fleet had travelled hundreds of river miles, and it had always been easy to become frustrated with the pace and the exposure. Before reaching the Red River Depot and finding the treasures the base held, no realistic alternative to the canoes and small boats had been considered as the growing army made its way west. Now, every soldier on the water knew they could be sitting in a heated cab with adjustable seats, listening to music and nibbling on snacks as they slowly cruised down the highway.

Gracie spoke what Luke was thinking. “The natives are restless this morning.”

He looked back to where she was piloting the small motor in the rear of the boat and shrugged. “The people on the river feel like they’re getting screwed, and their friends in the convoy are gonna tell ‘em as much around the campfires tonight.”

Gracie smiled and pulled up her hood. “I’ll try not to complain too much.”

“I’d rather be with the convoy too,” Luke admitted.

“Actually, I think I prefer being out here on the water. I love feeling so connected with nature.”

“Land is natural too, you know.” Luke tossed Gracie a bottled water. “Here’s some more liquid nature for you.”

Gracie caught the bottle in one hand. “Think about it. Do you know how many times trying to hold onto the old world has almost gotten me killed? There’s no way, with an engine running and the windows rolled up, that I’m as in tune with what’s going on around me as I am right now. I feel a lot safer out here.”

Her logic was irrefutable; Luke wondered why he hadn’t thought about the situation in that way. “You’re right—remind me about that if I start complaining.”

Gracie nodded. “I’m just worried that our soldiers will think they’re untouchable in those vehicles. You and I have actually seen what a hundred thousand hunters look like. We know better than they do not to take our safety for granted or let down our guard.”

“We’ll just have to trust that Zach and Maddy can keep everybody on their toes.”

By the end of the first day of travel, the difficulties of following the roads were evident to everyone who’d been subjected to the twelve hours of removing wreckage and slogging through mushy detours. The usual accordion effect had frustrated all of the drivers, most of whom felt as if the entire day was spent either speeding to catch up with the column, or sitting at a dead stop with nothing to do but wait and wonder. Packs struck the convoy twice. No human was injured, while all but two of the flesh-eaters were killed with spears wielded from firing ports. The final two hunters had seemed to coordinate an attack on the cab of a tanker truck, one on each side of the vehicle, each rattling the handle of a locked door. It took a barrage of over two dozen arrows to drop the creatures to the ground, where they were purposely and repeatedly run over by the rest of the convoy.

The soldiers hated being so exposed in a strung-out column, and the aggressive attack on the cab of the tanker rattled everyone. The overall result of the traffic jams and hunter attacks was that most drivers were looking to trade positions with the troops plying the watercraft. The sailors had experienced a change of attitude after hearing their comrades complain of life on the road.

Maddy shared her soldiers’ frustration. After plopping herself on the frozen ground near Luke and Gracie’s fire, she released a deep sigh and half-jokingly asked, “Either of you need a break from that freezin’ river? I’ll trade places with you tomorrow.”

Zach had also arrived for the evening council. “Hold on a minute, you’re supposed to be my partner. What if I was gonna ask to switch for tomorrow?”

“OK, partner, do you even know what a double standard is?”

Luke was struggling to conceal his smile. “So, uh, Zach, just out of curiosity, why are you asking to swap positions tomorrow.”

“You had any hunters swimming out to meet you and trying to climb in your boat?” He paused for half a second. “I didn’t think so.”

Gracie had heard the report, but she was still skeptical. “Did you actually see them trying to open the doors of the truck?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Zach snapped. “Just who do you think ordered those archers into position? I’m telling you, they knew what they were doing.”

Luke’s skin prickled; he had no doubt that Zach was correct. He looked from Zach to Maddy. “If you two want to switch places, we can do that.”

Zach shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but you know we’d never really leave our troops; I was just complaining.”

“And he is really good at that,” Maddy added. “I was just kidding around—don’t think for one minute that we can’t handle ourselves. Well, I can handle myself, and I can handle this buffoon . . .” she playfully punched Zach in the arm and he reached over and pulled her ponytail.

Gracie looked at Luke. “So do we have to start worrying about hunters opening car doors now?”

“I think as they keep evolving, they’re gonna keep acquiring new skills. We should be aware of what a small number of them might be capable of, but avoid blowing it out of proportion.” Luke wasn’t sure of any precise details, but he had a strong feeling that the behavior of the two creatures in question was still an anomaly. For now.

CHAPTER 22

The next few days played out in much the same way as the first, with intermittent road blockages slowing the convoy’s progress, but only a few “typical” hunter attacks that were easily and effectively dealt with. On the fourth day, things got interesting.

“Luke?” Zach called calmly over the radio.

Gracie had a small hand-held unit attached to her coat as she piloted the canoe for the day, so she answered the call. “Hey Zach, what’s up?”

After a brief hesitation, Zach gave a coded message. “Just one of those days . . .”

Gracie instantly realized that the convoy had been stopped and needed Luke’s attention. The phrase Zach had just uttered was two steps below the signal for a full-blown attack that required everyone to come as quickly as possible. Something was definitely wrong. She was worried but kept her voice neutral as she replied, “Okay, Zach, I’ll get Luke for you.”

Luke took the radio from Gracie. “Go, Zach.”

“Hey, uh, we’ve been stopped by a Texas Ranger who wants to know why we’re in Army vehicles without military ID’s; he wants to see my commanding officer.”

A hundred thoughts rushed into Luke’s mind upon hearing Zach’s message, most of them positive; a local officer of the law wanted to see ID’s! As he jotted down the location of the head of the convoy and waved Gracie toward shore, he allowed himself to hope that some vestiges of authority had survived in northern Texas. The Rangers had a legendary reputation among American law enforcement agencies, and had actually been a military force earlier in their illustrious history. From fighting Comanches to Yankees to Mexican bandit-armies, the Rangers had always seemed to be bigger and badder than the average state police forces across the nation.

Gracie saw the situation in a different light: one cop holding up a mile-long military convoy. “This guy must have brass balls.”

Luke did a double-take, then laughed hard for about five seconds.

“What?” she demanded.

He blushed slightly before explaining, “Since when have you ever mentioned people’s balls?”

Gracie giggled. “I used to hear my dad say that whenever he saw somebody do something that required a lot of courage, or maybe stupidity. He also used to say that sometimes you can’t slide a piece of paper between courage and stupidity.”

“So you’re saying that this guy is either very brave or very stupid?”

Gracie nodded. “Yeah, and either way, I want you to be careful with him.”

By the time Luke arrived at the crossroads where Zach had been stopped, carried to the scene by a Hummer sent to give him a lift, an entire platoon of black-clad infantry was standing in formation ten meters behind their leader. The troops stood at port-arms, with pikes across their chests, but they were fully armored and obviously ready to immediately resort to violence if they decided that Zach was in danger. Luke noticed right away that the Texas Ranger was standing next to a huge horse, bridle in hand and wearing a large cowboy hat;
Of course he is
.
I wonder if Chuck Norris is on his way with the cavalry?

Luke immediately regretted the internal jest as he closed the door to the Hummer and a thunder of hooves from the crest of the rise behind the lawman heralded the arrival of at least a hundred horsemen. The riders were wearing leg protection of various designs, though most were outfitted in simple riding chaps Luke thought had been left behind with the demise of the cowboy culture of the 19
th
Century. The gear didn’t look a hundred years old, so the chaps were obviously of modern construction. Other cavalrymen sported leather pants similar in appearance to the racing-garb Luke’s soldiers used. The troopers were also gloved and clad in heavy winter-coats of varied color and design; they wore hats intended to keep out the cold rather than protect them from bites. All of the fighters carried long lances in giant, quiver-like devices attached to the rear of their saddles, with the usual assortment of cutting and bludgeoning weapons close at hand. None of that concerned Luke. What struck a spark of fear in his heart was the fact that every trooper was carrying what appeared to be a modern hunting rifle in his hands. The balance of power between his own force and that of the Ranger was now in serious question.

Luke’s attention was diverted from the Texas cavalry by Maddy rushing forward, with most of her company following at the quick-march. As with Zach’s troops, Maddy’s were fully armored with pikes in hand. She called a halt when Luke held up a closed fist, accompanied by a serious expression that even she understood and accepted as a sign that no argument was allowed in this situation. Satisfied that none of his soldiers were about to provoke a violent reaction from the heavily armed cavalry, Luke turned and made his way to the stand-off at the front of the convoy. He hoped that his face displayed more confidence than he felt; he and most of his soldiers were young, and the Ranger was old enough to be his father. Fighting hunters was Luke’s specialty, and he could handle bad humans too, but he had no desire to get into a scrape with a band of rifle-toting Texan cowboys.

Upon reaching Zach and the state police officer, Luke held out his hand in greeting. “Good morning, sir, I’m Captain Smith, Allied Resistance.”

The lawman stood a few inches shorter than the two warriors before him, but he exuded the strength and confidence that only comes from wisdom gained through experience. The graying-haired, bearded Texan appeared to be somewhere between thirty-five and fifty, with hard eyes that were clear, bright, and suspicious. After a tense few seconds spent appraising the newly arrived young man standing non-threateningly before him, he gave Luke’s outstretched hand a firm shake. “Wyatt Sanders, Texas Rangers.”

Luke smiled briefly before politely asking, “Why have you stopped my column, Officer Sanders?”

The ranger scowled. “There’re a lot of folks around here countin’ on me to keep ‘em safe. My men have done a great job of exterminatin’ the infected, but we trusted people we shouldn’t have early on . . .”

Luke held up a hand that indicated his understanding. “You don’t have to explain yourself to us, sir. We’ve been visiting settlements all along the Red River, from here to Shreveport, and there’ve definitely been some places where law and order desperately needed to be reestablished.”

Sanders nodded. “I’m glad you understand where I’m comin’ from, Captain. I’m sure you realize why I need to see some military ID before I let you pass through our territory.”

Luke shifted slightly, instinctively comprehending the fact that now was not a good time to display any indecision. “The U.S. government is gone. A General from USAMRIID named Matthew Barnes is calling himself president back east, and he has a fleet of Blackhawks and a few battalions of soldiers and conscripts he uses to project power. But he’s a fraud; the president is dead. Barnes created and introduced the virus into Afghanistan, apparently with the goal of ruling what was left of the world after the infection ran its course. The only legal authority that remains in the former United States is that wielded by people such as you, in localities where you’ve managed to maintain the authority you held before the outbreak, and the officers of the Allied Resistance now fighting Barnes’ forces. I’m a captain in that force, which is headed by Generals Stephen Carlson of the Utah Territory, and Jack Smith of the Indiana Resistance Force. We also have associated units along the Mississippi and central Louisiana.”

The Ranger seemed intrigued, but remained firm on his original demand. “So, no ID?”

Luke turned to Zach. “Lieutenant, order your soldiers to shoulder arms and march them back to join with Lieutenant Johnson’s company. Send a message to halt all other forces in place until we obtain permission to use these roads or decide to choose another route.”

Zach obviously didn’t want to leave his friend and commander alone with a Texas Ranger backed by a hundred, rifle-toting horsemen of unknown intent. “Sir . . .?”

“Do it, Lieutenant,” Luke ordered in a tone he’d never used with his buddy before. “Turn your troops over to Johnson and start mapping out some alternative routes north of the river.”

Sanders shook his head as he watched Zach move off to follow the order. “My jurisdiction extends well to the north of the Red River; until I know who you are, and how you came to be in possession of one hell of a lot of U.S. Army property, you aren’t crossin’ any of our borders.”

Luke nodded slightly as he worked on a solution to the impasse. Finally, he observed, “I notice, officer, that you aren’t wearing a uniform or a badge.”

Sanders slowly reached toward a pocket inside of his coat. “All my uniforms are too big on me now; I look ridiculous.”

Luke again held up a hand to stop the officer from continuing the search for his badge. “Officer Sanders, I’m sure you keep the badge safe because it has some sentimental value to you. Perhaps a family member or a respected mentor pinned it to your chest when you became a Ranger?”

Sanders nodded slowly. “Your point?”

Luke used his chin to indicate the line of horsemen arrayed behind the lawman. “Nobody needs to see a badge or uniform to know that you’re in charge around here, and the fact that you’re still alive, and worried about civilians, makes you one of the good guys in my book.”

Ranger Sanders looked behind Luke for a good ten seconds, taking in the view of the ranks of heavily armed and armored soldiers standing in formations that indicated tight discipline. He could tell from body height and shape beneath the generally tight-fitting leathers that there were plenty of women in the ranks: there didn’t appear to be any of the slavery he’d heard about in some of the lawless areas of the southwest. “I get your point, to a point. You’re obviously the commander of a pretty impressive military unit, and crossin’ Louisiana and Texas and livin’ to talk about the trip proves that your soldiers know how to fight. So I accept that you’re a captain in somebody’s army, but I have no way of knowin’ what your intentions are here.”

Luke tried again. “I’m from Indiana, and I ended up recuperating from a wound suffered during the Battle of Vicksburg while the rest of our volunteers went back home with General Smith.”

The Ranger’s eyes narrowed. “One of our hams picked up a broadcast about a big fight at Vicksburg. The humans won, huh?”

“Yes sir, that General Barnes has a way of controlling the infected from his helicopters, and he rounded up tens of thousands of them and tried to capture the bridge at Vicksburg. Two Utah divisions came east on the Pacific Northern Railroad . . .”

The increasingly intrigued officer interrupted, “Wait a minute, y’all got railroads runnin’ up north?”

“We have the Pacific Northern running one track between Utah and Fort Wayne, and another line was opened up from Iowa to Vicksburg when we saw where Barnes was headed. That bastard would be here now if we hadn’t stopped him below the Ohio and east of the Mississippi.”

Ranger Sanders took one last glance at Luke’s impressive-looking soldiers before coming to a decision. “Hell, son, even if you’re just makin’ this stuff up, I want to hear the rest of the story. How ‘bout you have your people set up a bivouac along the river, and you and me can parlay out here over some steaks?”

Luke feigned the act of thinking the proposal over for a moment, so the Ranger tried again. “Have your folks set up defensive positions anchored on the Red; even if we had bad intentions we wouldn’t be able to use our horses to flank y’all.”

“Your soldiers have rifles,” Luke objected. “We have a few .22 pistols.”

Officer Sanders held up one finger with a twinkle in his eye. At the sight of what was obviously a pre-arranged signal, one of the horsemen trotted forward to join his commander. The young trooper had quickly slipped his gun into a sheath attached to the saddle before he approached, keeping both hands on the reins as a sign of peaceful intentions. As the man arrived, he perfunctorily saluted his leader and drawled, “Ya need to see me, sir?”

“I need your firearm, son.”

The trooper obediently pulled the weapon out and handed it over; Sanders immediately passed the gun to Luke. “Ever seen one of these?” He asked with a grin.

Luke had seen it before, in a magazine. The rifle was a muzzleloader of modern design; it looked like a bolt-action .30-06 or .308 from a distance, but the gun was loaded with black powder and a lead bullet forced down the barrel with a rod. He doubted that the weapon was anywhere near as accurate as Civil War-era rifles, and could probably only be fired once from horseback in a hot fight with a horde of infected. If his army was dug in or behind the Hummers, they would be nearly impervious to the cavalry’s guns. If the troopers moved in to engage at close-quarters, Luke’s pike and spear-men would slaughter them and their mounts with relative ease.

He handed the muzzleloader back to Sanders. “If I was you, and I don’t have your experience so you’re probably way ahead of me on arming your fighters, I would order each of my soldiers to carry several revolvers as well. I know the Confederate cavalry units often did that: it gave them a big advantage during any melee against Union horsemen.”

The Ranger shrugged, “They all have at least one of those, but they’re inaccurate as hell during a tight scrape with a bunch of eaters: head shots are a bitch. And I was about to tell you that we had ‘em; we’re not tryin’ to put nothin’ over on ya.”