Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution (57 page)

Carter was younger, wilder, and less
predictable than Sullivan, by no means perfect himself. Sullivan
had posed significant challenges to the Colonel as well, but the
Colonel had been a much younger man when he had taken up that
gauntlet. The Colonel had been Sullivan’s peer mentor, but he was
looking and feeling more and more like a father for Carter and
neither man wanted that.

The tension was becoming palpable and the
Colonel was concerned others would start to pick up on it. Carter’s
attitude had the potential to undermine the Colonel’s authority and
that was completely unacceptable to Colonel Bear. He expected
everyone to follow his orders to the letter and, perhaps more
importantly given their current circumstances, needed everyone to
follow his orders so that they could all prevail. They were at war
and dissent could not be tolerated.

He needed to choose his time though. For the
moment, the Colonel needed Carter’s ferocity. The moment would pass
however. At that point, Colonel Bear would need to have identified
a replacement just as fierce but much less independent. He needed
someone smart enough to understand and sometimes interpret his
orders but also of an intellect that was beyond questioning those
orders. He didn’t want a dullard, but he also didn’t need someone
fully capable of functioning without the Colonel’s direction.

The Colonel hoped that Earl would be that
replacement. He was strong and seasoned, but he was also a pleaser
without any real ambition. Earl acted like he wanted to have more
responsibility, but he shied away from any real challenges. He did,
however, exactly what the Colonel told him to do without any
hesitation, and that was what the Colonel wanted. He didn’t want
the job done with the snide comments or caustic sneers.

The time would come that the Colonel would
teach Carter a lesson and then the younger man would be able to
make a decision about which course he wanted to follow: be a team
player and do what he was told or the Colonel could get very
creative in releasing Carter of his duties and his life. The
Colonel imagined the confrontation and how disheartened Carter
would be to find that the militia was loyal to the Colonel and not
to Carter. Colonel Bear had been their provider and protector since
the early, dark days of The Fall. What had Carter been other than a
bully? He could see them all lining up behind him when he
confronted Carter with his choice.

Walking into the enormous lodge, Carter was
taken aback by how fresh all of the blood and gore was. Some of it
was still sticky beneath his boots, clinging to the floor when he
lifted his foot like errant pieces of reddish brown chewing gum
mashed nearly flat onto the surface of the wood plank flooring. The
pantry had food but wasn’t as stocked as the Inn, and the liquor
cabinet had bottles but, the collection paled in comparison to what
they had left behind. There were several bottles of gin and vodka,
though he didn’t see a single bottle of good Irish whiskey. The
lodge owner must have been a serious martini drinker or
something.

Carter barked, “What a pussy!”

One of the nameless, gun-toting drones of
the Colonel’s militia stepped into the room. “What was that?” he
asked. He was one of the bigger guys always driving around in the
Colonel’s Hummer, probably thought he was in the inner circle
somehow. Big and dumb was how the Colonel liked them and this guy
definitely wore that description like clothes. There really was no
point in learning his name, Carter knew. He was much easier to
ignore if he didn’t possess a real identity.

Intimidated neither by the man’s posture nor
his size, Carter said, “Relax chief. Talkin’ ‘bout the former
owner. Not that I need to explain myself to you.” Carter dropped
the bottle of vodka he had been holding and smiled when the crash
of glass upon the hardwood floor caused the big man to flinch.

The man retreated into the hallway when
Carter barked at him to finish his sweep of the house. They moved
methodically from room to room in teams, searching closets,
bathrooms, under beds and behind furniture. The big house looked as
if a war had been fought in it, leaving carnage and death in its
wake, but it certainly appeared that some time had passed
since.

There weren’t any lingering undead to be
found. The place appeared cleared already. Doors down hallways were
shut; kitchen cabinets were open and sparse at best; there was no
bottled water to be found; and all the skins had been taken down
with accurate and efficient gunshots. Carter recognized all the
signs and understood what it meant.

Somewhere in Shotgun Cove lived a group of
very organized, trained, and well-armed people, capable of making
the Colonel’s militia look like the amateurs they were. William
said that a hardened killer named Neil led them. Through his fever,
William talked about several deadly accomplices, even mentioning
that there were two children with them as dangerous as any of the
others. Seeing the bodies dealt with in such a fashion helped
Carter to believe some of what William had said. He believed enough
to realize that they were going to need more men.

They needed to get everyone recalled to
Shotgun Cove before they made their move. Carter knew that it had
to be done right or they would all pay dearly, so he made up his
mind that he would go after the men at the tunnel entrance, Earl,
who was sent to get them in the first place, their people back at
the Inn, and any survivors from the truck they lost in Whittier. He
didn’t suspect it would take much convincing with the Colonel to
set him on his task. It was what Sullivan would have done and so
Carter would do it instead.

The conversation with Colonel Bear was
amicable, almost syrupy. The Colonel expressed such pride in
Carter’s tactical foresight and willingness to get the job done and
so on. It didn’t take long for Carter to become bored with the
praise and drift off into his own thoughts. He was thinking about a
long time ago when he was playing Pop Warner football as a kid. It
was such a random memory with no context in his present reality,
but it was a surprisingly refreshing image. He felt somewhat bitter
when the Colonel mentioned that someone named Bruce would be going
along to help. The comment shattered the memory like a hammer
through a window, catching Carter off guard. He was anxious for the
time alone, which had been a rarity as of late.

Carter asked, looking at the group in front
of them, “Who the hell is Bruce?”

The big guy from in the house who had
confronted Carter stepped forward. His chest was trying to burst
through both the shirt and jacket he was wearing. Carter wondered
if the oversized man would be able to fit in his truck and was
considering that thought when the Colonel asked pointedly, “Is
there a problem, Carter?”

Feeling the dagger at his back like Caesar
did in the forum, Carter turned slowly and answered, “Nope.” He
turned to the big Bruce. “Let’s go, Brucy.”

“It’s Bruce.”

After placing another painful pinch of
tobacco into his lip, Carter sneered, “It may have been but now
it’s Brucy. You’ll get used to it.” The fire behind Carter’s eyes
didn’t allow any further comment despite the obvious size disparity
between the two men.

Carter and Bruce quickly cruised out of the
developed area of Shotgun Cove and did so without uttering a single
word to one another. The roads had thawed quite a bit with the day
but were still slick with black ice on the patches covered by
shadows. Carter felt the truck give slightly on a couple of turns,
but for the most part the drive was smooth.

Carter was drifting off into his thoughts,
barely keeping his eyes on the empty road ahead. Bruce too was
distracted. The Colonel said something to him that had piqued his
curiosity; something to the effect that he was looking for a
replacement for Carter and the quicker Carter disappeared the
quicker that change could take place.

Bruce was fairly certain that was what he
heard. The further they drove away from the conversation, the less
sure he was of himself. He knew he needed to take some drastic
action. Whether the Colonel was ready to replace Carter or not,
Bruce was tired of having him sitting so comfortably on his
self-assigned perch. Carter wasn’t that tough; he was just willing
to be cruel and do what others weren’t, and could do so without any
restrictive emotions or attachments.

Most of what Bruce thought wasn’t as
coherent or linear as that, but his brain processed those basic
assumptions in bits and pieces. In very rudimentary ways, he was
able to connect the disparate shards of information to help him
develop an understanding of the Colonel’s intention.

He looked over at Carter. He appeared to be
watching the road intently. Bruce really didn’t like Carter one
bit...not even a little. Carter was an asshole and needed to be
shown that he wasn’t the cock of the walk that he thought he was.
He was a little man with a little man’s complex. Bruce was
perfectly willing to teach that lesson to Carter and now that it
appeared that he had the Colonel’s blessing it was only a matter of
time. He looked forward to crushing Carter’s nose all over his
pale, pasty face.

Carter felt Bruce staring at him and turned
his head to meet the man’s glare. Carter smiled like a
jack-o’-lantern, his teeth blackened and rotting from tobacco use.
Neither man saw the first few of the walking corpses they passed on
the either side of the road because they were too busy staring one
another down. When Carter returned his eyes to the road, it was
just in time to see the approaching wall of death with eyes in
front of them.

The road was full to overflowing with
staggering, decaying, filthy undead creatures. Not even a tank
could wade through the river of doom. Carter slammed on his brakes
and turned the steering wheel hard to the left. The truck went into
a directed but uncontrolled slide, plowing into layer after layer
of zombies. Carter winced harder and harder the further they drove
into the herd, but he was not out of control. He unlocked his door,
rolled down Bruce’s window, opened his door, and leapt out,
shouting over his shoulder, “So long, Brucy!”

Bruce shouted something in response but his
screams of pain quickly replaced his angry voice when the truck
came to a stop. Carter could only imagine Brucy’s fate and
smiled.

Carter was pleased to see that the road
around him had been cleared of skins by his truck. There was no way
for him to be able to run all the way back to Shotgun Cove, but
Bruce’s death screams were working to distract all the creatures
immediately around him. There was an impossible incline on one side
of the road and a terrifying drop off on the other side.

Making his decision in an instant, Carter
ran to the side that fell away and started down it. He disappeared
from sight, sinking below the road surface height fairly quickly.
He was hoping to completely drop out of consideration by the
fiends. It appeared to be working. He was alone and able to catch
his breath. He never took his eyes off the edge of the road above
his head as he contemplated his next move.

Bruce’s cries had vanished and the mass
sounded like it was on the move again to Carter. Their feet
shuffled along the pavement in an uneven, rhythm-less march, like
an army seeking a fight. The wind was blowing into Carter’s face as
he looked ahead of him toward Whittier. The path in that direction
was more reasonable than the path back to Shotgun Cove, which
became much sharper with less vegetation on which to hold. He
wondered how long it would take for the procession to pass his
position.

Not willing to wait, he picked his way
forward into the wind. Luckily, there was a seldom used footpath
just a few feet up from the precipice’s edge. The angle at which he
was forced to walk caused his legs to ache, but he pressed
forward.

He wondered if the herd would stop before it
came to Shotgun Cove and then wondered why it would. There was
nothing between them and the little community. It was likely the
Colonel they were following in the first place. Those other
people...the ones who had attacked them at their camp in Soldotna;
they probably had no idea that either the Colonel or those things
were moving toward them.

Carter thought about all those other people
in the Colonel’s militia but couldn’t find an ounce of concern for
any of them. He hardly knew any of their names and knew nothing
about them as people. There were a couple he knew he could count on
in the thick of a firefight, but that was an impersonal fact to
know about people.

Neither Colonel Bear’s militia nor the
killers upon which he sought retribution knew that their doom was
heading straight for them and Carter didn’t care a rat’s ass about
any of them. He figured he would make his way back into Whittier,
find a vehicle that he could get started, and then he would figure
out his next move. Going back to Shotgun Cove to warn any of them
never entered his thoughts. He didn’t care what happened one way or
the other. They could all die for all he cared.

The Colonel stared at the young man standing
in front of him. “Say that again,” he demanded.

Out of breath and clearly excited by the
news he was delivering, the young man leaned forward and said
again, “I...think... I think we...found ‘em.”

“You found who, soldier?”

“People. We found people. They’re down at
the end of this road at another big lodge. There was a bunch of
‘em. They were moving stuff, gettin’ ready for somethin’
maybe.”

His breathing getting quicker and his mouth
filling with saliva, the Colonel asked, “How close are they?”