Winter Apocalypse: Zombie Crusade V (22 page)

“My husband abandoned me and my daughter without a word of warning. I watched her bleed out after being attacked by our gardener.” She nodded toward the soldier who’d been doing all the talking. “This man and a couple of his friends saved me, and did everything they could do for my daughter after killing the monsters trying to eat us. We’ve grown rather fond of each other while crossing the continent, so yeah, it’s personal.”

Pete nodded like a scolded school-boy. “I understand, ma’am. I have a similar score to settle with Barnes and anyone helping him.”

He turned his attention back to the soldier. “Sir, what were the names of the Rangers you were trying to find in Indiana?”

“Jack Smith and Carter Jones.”

Pete nodded. “And you are . . .?”

Carter could contain his excitement no longer. “This is Colonel Chien Longstreet, the finest officer I ever served under!”

The soldier under questioning stood and turned just in time to be engulfed in a huge bear-hug from Carter, who in spite of all he’d endured in his life, couldn’t keep the tears at bay as he was reunited with the man who was like a father to him. Jack and the other Rangers were waiting their turn, and by the time all of the embraces were completed the colonel had tears streaming down his own cheeks.

He wiped at the moisture with feigned anger. “Look what you rookies have done; I haven’t cried since I was a little kid.”

The former model with the hollow eyes was smiling next to the colonel. “Yeah, go on and act all hard around the Rangers, tough guy,” she teased.

“Men, uh, this is my, umm, this is . . .”

“I’m Marie,” she finished for the flustered soldier. “I’m his girlfriend.”

Chien nearly choked, and his face turned red.

Marcus couldn’t help himself. “Ma’am, no disrespect, but what do you see in the colonel here that would make you want to be his girlfriend?”

She shrugged as she flipped her hair back. “He’s kept me alive, and he’s pretty smart, too.” She glanced at Chien with affection before unsuccessfully trying to suppress a mischievous grin. “Plus, I really like, well, you know . . .”

Marcus and the rest of the Rangers laughed uproariously at that.

Chien looked offended. “What? I always told you men that I had a way with women.”

That brought even more laughter, until Carter caught his breath and offered a pointed retort. “Ya said a lot of things, sir, but we never saw ya with no woman.”

“We thought maybe you we’re some sort of monk,” Bobby loudly proclaimed.

Chien threw his hands into the air in mock exasperation. “I fight my way through hordes of infected and blizzards just to be made fun of by some former grunts?”

“What else did you expect, Colonel?” Jack asked with affection in his eyes. “Welcome home, sir, welcome home.”

“You know you’re a walking miracle, son,” Carlson noted as he studied Luke’s scar. “How do you feel?”

Luke shrugged. “Hungry, and a little worried about these, I don’t know what to call them—symptoms?”

“Is there anything besides your hand and your eyes? Do you feel like you’re thinking clearly?” Carlson’s questioning sounded like a concerned doctor interviewing a patient.

“Yeah, I’m not having any weird thoughts or anything. I feel like myself.” Luke glanced around the table and asked, “Have I said anything unusual or acted weird?”

Gracie stood behind Luke and wrapped her arms around him. “Other than trying to eat us out of house and home, you’ve been perfectly normal.” 

Zach hesitated, then added, “You did make some really weird noises, like growling, before you woke up.”

“I know I was dreaming, but I can’t remember much, only bits and pieces . . .” his voice trailed off. “I think I was fighting helicopters.”

Zach snorted, “I bet you were flying, too.” He stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll see what I can dream about for a while—maybe I can turn into Wolverine and pay a little visit to General Barnes.” He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up on the couch. He was snoring in less than two minutes.

“I know it’s the middle of the day, but I think you should all follow Zach’s lead and get some rest,” Carlson directed. “Luke, you’re still recovering, and once people know you’ve survived this thing, everyone is going to want to see you. For now, I’m going to post a few guards outside to protect your privacy. I’ll have them over here within the hour.” 

“A nap sounds good to me.” Maddy wiggled in opposite Zach on the sofa.

Gracie gave Luke another squeeze as she handed him a plate of leftover steak. “Since you said you were still hungry, eat some more lunch and then we can cuddle for a while.”

“I think things are under control here,” Charlotte observed to Carlson. “I’d like to come with you and see if there’s any word from Jack, if that’s OK.”

Carlson nodded. “Of course.” He turned to Luke. “I’ll be back in later. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Actually, there is. I think I’d like to talk to my Louisiana friends. Especially my new minister’s father.”

Carlson chuckled. “I guess celebrities like to stick together. You know they used to have their own television show. My men tell me that they were pretty famous.”

“I don’t know much about that,” Luke explained, “but the old man seemed to have a sense about me pulling through. He said I wasn’t done yet. I’d just like to talk to him.”

“I’ll bring him back with me. Anything else?”

Gracie sat a plate of cut-up, barely cooked steak in front of Luke. He dug in with enthusiasm. “Nope, I’m good for now.”

Gracie smiled at Carlson. “When you come back this evening, we’ll have dinner together. How does seven sound?”

Carlson couldn’t help but smile in return. “I’ll be here at seven. Hopefully your Louisiana friend likes steak, because that seems to be Luke’s favorite food.”

The recovering teen looked up guiltily, a dribble of juice sliding down his chin. “Hey,” he protested around a mouthful of beef. “I almost died.”

After finishing his meal, Luke curled up with Gracie. She quickly dozed off, but Luke wasn’t tired. He carefully extricated himself from her embrace and returned to the bathroom to stare in the mirror again. He still found his black eyes unsettling, but he thought he could get used to them if he had to. He reminded himself that he was lucky to be alive, and strange-looking eyes was a small price to pay. He knew he should be tired, but instead he was bursting with energy. He decided to bundle up and take a walk; he was craving fresh air and nature. He left a note on the table in case anyone awoke before he returned, and even though he planned to avoid people, he donned a pair of dark sunglasses before venturing outside and quietly closing the door behind him. 

CHAPTER 20

By the time Barnes returned to dinner, Andi had finished her chicken guiltlessly and eaten most of the bread from the basket in the middle of the table. Barnes strode in confidently, but he seemed distracted. She sensed that he was less than pleased with whatever news he’d received. He sat down at the table and took several bites of food before he spoke.

“I’m afraid your friends on that rescue-train had succumbed to my soldiers—what do you call them?—hunters, before I got the chance to talk to my officers. I’m sure they were fully consumed; that pack’s been hungry lately.” He looked at Andi expectantly and picked up the wine. “More Chardonnay?”

Andi dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “No, thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried that your fiancé, my good friend Jack, could have been eaten?”

Andi wondered whom he had spoken with, but she saw no reason to deviate from her original story. “I told you that Jack isn’t my fiancé, and I told you that I doubted he’d be on that train anyway. Are you usually so forgetful?”

“Are you usually so dishonest?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You are calling me dishonest? That’s actually sort of funny. You’re the only one lying right now.”
              Barnes took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair. “And how do you figure that?”

“Something’s got you annoyed. Is it that you would be upset to lose your good friend Jack under such impersonal circumstances? I think that would bother you, but neither one of us believes that Jack was on that train. If there even was a train at all.”

“Would you like to see pictures? That can be arranged, though I’m sure you’ll find them very upsetting.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but that doesn’t mean I’d believe you. Photos can be doctored.”

Barnes scoffed, “Why would I go to all that trouble just to fool someone as insignificant as you? This may be hard for you to grasp, but you’re not worth the effort.”

Andi smiled. “Sending a helicopter out in a blizzard to kidnap someone in the middle of an all-out hunter offensive is hardly effortless. But it is reasonable to assume that troops were heading north on the rails once they learned that Fort Wayne was under attack. Now, that little vein popping out on your forehead wasn’t there before you left to allegedly make a call. You’re angry. Why would you be angry if everything was going your way?”

“Ms. Carrell, you are being presumptuous. That is an unattractive trait, especially for a woman.”

“The way I see it, I don’t have time to waste on pleasantries. My life expectancy should probably be measured in days, if not hours. Since I expect you to kill me or have me killed in the not-too-distant future, why bother to lie to me? I doubt you have many people you can be honest with, and the social studies teacher in me is fascinated by how and why you’ve managed to manipulate the fate of humanity. You have caused more devastation than anyone in history.”

“Now you flatter me.”

“I didn’t mean for you to take it as a complement,” Andi lied. She was trying to appeal to his greatest weakness: his ego. It seemed to be working.

“So what exactly would you like to know, Ms. Carrell?”

“I’d like to know why you think the creatures that resulted from your virus make the world a better place. I’d like to know how you envision this world five years from now, and ten years from now. And I’d really like to know what happened with that train in Iowa.”

Hiram had lost a lot of blood by the time he was gently loaded onto the train. He was still conscious, but fading fast.

“Stanley? Is Stanley here?” Hiram called out weakly.

Just as Stanley pulled himself into the boxcar, a young soldier replied, “He’s right behind you, sir.”

Hiram reached out for Stanley. “Stay with me; I don’t have long.” He winced as he propped himself up. “Did we kill them all?”

Stanley nodded. “Yup, we did.”

“How many did we lose?”

Stanley looked away. “Too many.”

“How many?” Hiram pressed.

“Utah division is probably at 50%. I think I lost about 10% of my Indiana fighters.”

Hiram sighed. “We can’t keep winning this way. You need to tell Carlson . . .” He paused as Stanley offered him some water. He took a drink, then smiled faintly. “Tell Carlson that Barnes suffered another defeat, but that we have to regroup and reinforce our home bases. We need to get back to Utah; it’s only a matter of time before he strikes there, and we need to be ready for him.”

“What about Fort Wayne?”

“You heard what the guys on the train from there said; I don’t see how we, I mean, you, could even get close anymore. The attack cost us more than our men; it cost us valuable time.”

Stanley knew he was right. “So we head back to Vicksburg?”

“You lead our troops back to Vicksburg. I have a reservation for a different journey.”

Stanley’s eyes teared up as he asked, “Can I do anything for you?”

Hiram laid back and closed his eyes. “You know what you can do, when the time comes.”

Bundled up against the cold and wearing dark sunglasses, Luke walked briskly through the settlement. He stopped briefly on the middle of the bridge and peered out at the banks of the Mississippi, still littered with hundreds, if not thousands, of corpses of the infected. Smoke rose from several locations where the still busy clean-up crews were cremating the remains of Barnes’ army as quickly as they could. Bodies and body parts continued to wash into the shallows and pile onto the bobbing mounds of carnage. Luke appreciated the chilly temperatures as he pulled his scarf over his nose and imagined how much worse the stench would be in warmer weather.

Even though there weren’t many people outside in the main section of the community—mostly small groups of soldiers—Luke felt as if he was alone in a crowd. He craved nature and solitude, so he set off for the woods bordering the Louisiana side of the river. The fresh air energized him, and he trotted along at a slow jog. When he reached the western gate in the protective wall around the settlement, he waved at the guards as he passed them. They waved back; their job was to keep danger out, not restrict the free movement of citizens.

The attack from Barnes had come from the east, but hunters on the other side of the river had still been attracted by the helicopters. Compared to the armies of infected that had swarmed the area on the opposite side of the river, the groups of monsters that had to be dealt with near the western wall were small in number and never posed much of a threat to the settlement. Most got tangled up in the barbed-wire Harden’s men had strung along the tree line, where they were easily dispatched by the few troops assigned to deal with the Louisiana hunters. Luke circled around the collection of generally headless creatures still stuck in the concertina, but with his heightened sense of awareness there was no way to avoid all of the carnage.

Luke noticed that he could still smell the settlement and the nearby corpses, but new scents were also discernable. He pulled down his scarf and sniffed the air. The stench of the dead was powerful, even though the nearby corpses were mostly frozen in the razor-wire entanglements that had trapped them before they were killed. The slight breeze out of the west caused rows of iced-corpses to sway gently and lightly smack into each other, reminding Luke of the chimes his grandmother kept on her porch throughout the cold Ohio winters. His memory was abruptly cut short by a new sound in the woods, a pitiful moan that was floating through the bare trees to the west. Luke cautiously and quietly followed the cries, eventually finding a small, child-hunter feebly struggling against the cruel, bladed-wire that sliced into the suffering creature’s skin with every move it made.

Luke pulled his bow and put an arrow to the string, then realized that he didn’t need to keep his distance, and there was no reason to risk losing an arrow on this monster. He slung the bow and pulled his trusty trench axe, keeping a wary eye on his surroundings as he drew near to the trapped flesh-eater. Something was wrong with this situation, and Luke was having a difficult time figuring out what was bothering him. He could sense no presence of infected nearby, nor did he have one of his ‘feelings’ that he was in danger. Finally, he realized why he was experiencing such cognitive dissonance: he felt no visceral enmity toward the trapped hunter.

Apparently, the exhausted, bloodied creature felt the same about Luke, because it stopped moaning and thrashing. It now stared at the approaching human with large, black eyes that seemed to be almost a reflection of those Luke had earlier seen in the mirror. This creature, Luke realized with a jolt of surprise, was certain that help had arrived. The most disturbing aspect of the situation, in Luke’s view, was that he had absolutely no desire to kill the young hunter. In May, when the virus struck humanity, this flesh-eater had probably been engaging in Little League and looking forward to summer vacation. Somehow the youngster had managed to consume enough protein to develop into the robust killer it had most certainly become, but for the first time since the war began, Luke considered what this creature had once been.

In all of the fights Luke had participated in since the start of the outbreak, he’d been a paragon of courage and strength when facing the enemy. He’d never once committed a cowardly or dishonorable act, but now, he realized with another shock, he was about to do just that. He sheathed his axe and walked away from the trapped beast. The hunter wasn’t a threat to humanity now, not anymore. Blood loss, hunger, and the elements would kill him soon enough. Luke decided that he didn’t need to hurt the poor creature. Then a sound reached his ears that he hadn’t heard in any of his experiences with the infected. A mewling cry spilled out of the youngster’s mouth, stopping Luke in his tracks as he somehow recognized the noise. He couldn’t identify the sound in his mind, but his heart knew that it was a call for help. The flesh-eater wanted Luke’s help.

Luke took three more steps along the path away from the scene, but the cries continued. Finally, he turned and began to slowly walk back to the trapped hunter. Luke swore that he could see relief in the beast’s eyes when it realized he was returning. This time, Luke looked over the situation and wondered if there was any way to free the creature. Jack had once told him that the only thing to do when you hit concertina wire was freeze and evaluate; the more you moved, the more the stuff cut and entangled you. The hunter was caught fast in dozens of strands, black ooze dripping from scores of wounds.

Maybe, Luke thought, if he had some means of tranquilizing the monster and a good set of wire-cutters, he might be able to free it from the trap. But he didn’t have those things. Then he thought about what he would do with the creature if he did free it. This sad little hunter was a killing machine now, hardwired to consume flesh, preferably human. Sadly, Luke accepted that there was only one possible course of action here. He carefully unsheathed his trench axe again, deliberately avoided eye contact with the young hunter. In a flash of skill and power, he cleanly cleaved head from torso before looking away from the small fountain of blood that was the usual result of such wounds.

Luke walked away from the scene and carefully worked his way past a thin spot in the wires. He continued a hundred meters further into the woods and then sat down, dejectedly, against a large tree trunk that allowed him to lean back a bit and close his eyes. He found himself remembering a very sad moment in his life, when he and his dad had put down the next-door-neighbor’s dog after it had been mortally wounded by a passing vehicle. The accident happened on a Sunday morning, and nobody knew how to find a veterinarian to euthanize the suffering canine. The neighbor knew that Jerry, Luke’s dad, was a police officer, and figured that a cop would be able to take care of the problem. Luke remembered that Jerry had an expression on his face that he’d never revealed to his son, and his eyes caused Luke to begin shedding tears long before the deed was done. They’d wrapped the whimpering dog in a blanket and drove to the edge of the city limits. Once there, Jerry had used a shotgun to put the stricken animal out of its misery, but there was nothing to be done for the wretched emotions of both father and son. Luke had known that they’d done the right thing, but that had done little to assuage his sorrow and grief.

He’d never known, until this very moment, just how far down he’d buried the memory of that terrible experience. Why, he briefly wondered, had it come back to him now? Luke was a smart kid; within seconds he put two and two together, but didn’t like the answer he came up with. A violent, even righteous, anger and hatred toward the infected had driven him to kill since the first time he’d seen what he’d considered abominations. The flesh-eaters had no place on God’s earth, and Luke had decided then and there that he would devote his life to destroying the monsters for as long as he lived. Now, for the first time, he felt conflicted about killing one of the creatures.

He wanted to believe his feelings were due to the circumstances in which he’d found the little killer: trapped and suffering. But no matter how hard he tried to avoid thinking about the look in the hunter’s eyes, he couldn’t avoid the fact that he saw his own eyes looking back at him from the anguished face. Luke often felt that the word “epiphany” was overused in the old world, but no matter how he chose to describe the last five minutes of his life, his paradigm had just been shifted. The worst part was that he knew it wasn’t grounded yet; there were more experiences to assimilate into his world-view before he was firmly rooted into a belief structure that made sense to him. Luke Seifert, he realized with a shake of his head, had been fundamentally, and permanently, altered by his brush with death from a hunter-bite.