Deadlocked 6 (14 page)

"You can't stay on the sidelines forever."

I was trying to be playful, but Jill's expression let me know this wasn't a laughing matter for her. She didn't look angry, but I could see a tired sadness in her eyes. "That's just it, though, isn't it? You look at this as a game, with you on one side and Laura on the other."

"That's not what I meant…"

"And maybe you're right. Maybe the two of you are just playing a game, and all the rest of us don't get to sit on the sidelines forever. You're going to throw us out on the field whether we want to play or not."

"Jill," I called out to her as she walked to the back of the truck.

"Nah, Billy. I've got to go. Just think about what I said, okay? Think about the players you're putting in the game. Maybe they're sick of playing."

She left me alone.

In the distance, somewhere in the circle of Roller's trucks, I heard children’s laughter.

Annie Conrad

"Well this is it, then, right?" asked Abe, one of the Rollers standing in a group near the Captain's Tent. "We're booting her ass out?"

I was inside of the tent, eavesdropping on the group as they debated outside. I could see their silhouettes against the tan fabric wall, cast by the fading day's sun. They didn't know I was listening, otherwise they would've tempered their insults about my mother. It was well known that Kim and I disagreed with our mother about the future of the Rollers, but we also didn't put up with people denigrating her.

"Fucking better," said Michael, another one of the Reds that aligned himself with Billy. "If it weren't for her, I bet this wouldn't have happened. I don't want to be nasty, cause I think she's got a good heart and all, but this was her fault. Am I right?" The group agreed. "This is her fault."

"They can't seriously be thinking about still trying to set up a town. Can they?" asked Abe. "I mean, what more proof do we need? They're killing all the settlements. If we don’t keep moving, and keeping hitting them, then we might as well settle down and dig our own graves. That's what she's doing, you know - she's digging our graves for us."

The group agreed.

Abe con
tinued, bolstered by the others’ validation of his opinion. "And you know what? All this bullshit about how she's a good person - seriously man, fuck that. Since when does being a good person keep your family fed, and safe, and happy? She might be a good person, but there's no cure for stupid. Am I right? And trying to ignore this would just be straight up stupid. If she tries to tell us we're not fighting back," he gave a pronounced sigh, "shit, guys, it's going to get nuts in here. For real. I'm not going to sit back and let her kill us all. Sorry, but I'm not going to do that."

The group agreed, their tenor rising.

"What are you going to do?" asked a male voice. I thought it was Cane, but wasn't positive.

"I'll raise hell," said Abe. "There's enough of us on Billy's side that there's no way she can convince us not to fight. Am I right?"

They agreed and I grew increasingly frustrated with how he was so blatantly eager for their approval.

"We'll out vote her. We'll de-elect her, or whatever."

"Impeach her," said one of the men.

"Is that what they call it?" asked Abe. "Yeah, we'll do that then. And if she fights it, then we'll do what we have to." He paused, giving his threat time to breath. "I'm not going to let her kill us all. Fuck that."

I'd been cleaning my pistol, and I slid the chamber back into place. Then I aimed at Abe's shadow on the wall.

"I'll do what I have to," he repeated the thinly veiled threat against my mother.

I mimed a gunshot aimed at Abe's shadow's head.

I hate politics.

A birdcall interrupted my murderous fantasy. The Roller scouts used a specific chirping call to alert others to a problem. The overabundance of birds in the post-apocalyptic world had deadened most people's reaction to their cacophony of sounds, which made this an ideal way to get the attention of other Rollers trained to listen for the odd combination of sounds. No bird made a sound exactly similar to what we used, but anyone untrained in identifying the noise would dismiss it as natural.

I sprang from my seat and rushed out of the tent. Abe and the other men that had been blabbering outside were equally alerted by the warning call, and were headed out to the scout trailer.

Abe's eyes locked on mine, and I smirked as he realized that I'd been listening to them. I winked and holstered my pistol, delighting in his embarrassment. I walked away, leaving him to wonder how much I'd heard, and headed for the tanker truck that was befitted with the raised platform over the cab that we all referred to as the Crow's Nest.

Dante was in the nest, staring north through his binoculars. We crowded below. The handmaidens gathered the children and hushed them as they moved into one of the nursery trailers.

Dante looked down at us and made a series of hand gestures before pointing north again. We understood that there were Greys approaching, a common problem when traversing the plains. These creatures didn't have great eyesight, but it wasn't hard to see a caravan of trucks crossing the otherwise barren landscape. I took Abe's arm and pulled him along with me as we headed to the north side of the tanker circle.

"Get my rifle. It's in my truck. I want the Nosler, not the sniper."

"Why me?" he asked.

I glared at him. He was a big guy, weighing a good hundred pounds more than me and towering above even my tall height. His shaggy beard hung down to his barrel chest and his bushy eyebrows touched as he glowered down at me.

"Because I told you to. Is that a problem?" I was his superior, one rank over him in our militaristic society, and he had to do as I told him.

"No, sir."

I let go of his arm and pushed him in the direction of my truck. The rest of us went to the north side of the camp's circle, near the entrance where two of the trucks weren't parked as close to one another as the rest. We always situated the encampment with two entrances like this, one on the north side and the other on the south, to afford escape should we be caught off guard. The camp was near what had once been a homestead with a well, in a slightly depressed valley. The surrounding hills provided us cover, and passing raiders would be hard pressed to see us from the nearby highway. This also prevented us from getting a good view of the area around us, but it was generally safer to not be seen than anything else.

Our trucks were befitted with dropdown barriers on one side that were lowered when we were camped. These corrugated metal barriers blocked the undercarriage of the vehicles to prevent anything from entering the camp anywhere except through the two main entrances. This wasn't done as a precaution for just zombies, but also for other predators. The act of camping was an arduous one for us, and required everyone to assist in constructing the barriers that connected the rear of one truck to the cab of the next. Over the years we had become experts at assembling the structures, and the entire process could be completed within a couple hours if the conditions were right. Once done, we were able to construct a secure fortification that could keep just about anything out. There was a time, a few years ago, when we weren't as stringent about the security of our camp, but an attack by a horde of Greys had caught us by surprise and killed several of our members. That was when David had been mangled, and we never made the same mistake again. From that day forth, we were careful to put up the partitions securely.

I climbed onto the trailer of the truck that the Crow's Nest was built on. This was one of the few standard eighteen-wheelers that we traveled with, and most of the others were former fuel tankers.

There was an annoying buzz in the distance that sounded like a small motor. It was far away, but the empty plains carried the sound to us. I wondered if Dante had spotted a raider party.

I squinted as I stared out across the swaying, golden field of blighted weeds. The plains of Colorado looked barely alive, the arid climate giving sanctuary to only the hardiest of plants. This year had been a particularly dry one, and even the earth looked thirsty, let alone the withered plants that decorated it.

My vision was better than most, but I still couldn't see what Dante was warning us of. I looked up at him and shrugged. He handed down his binoculars, gripping them by the strap to allow them to dangle far enough for me to reach. Then he pointed north and said, "Moving through the weeds out that way. Look for the dead tree, and then to the left about fifty or so yards."

I did as he instructed and finally caught sight of the dark shapes amid the wavering, golden plants. "There they are," I said as I watched them. "Good catch, Dante." I stretched to hand the binoculars back to him, but still had to toss them up.

Abe returned with my Nosler and a box of ammo that he handed up to me. "How's it look?" he asked as I took the rifle.

"Nothing serious," I said. "Just a wandering group of Greys a couple hundred yards out."

He handed up the box of ammunition. "Let's wait for them to get closer. No use wasting bullets."

I shrugged as I took the box from him. "They're in range."

"Bullshit," said Abe. "You're going to waste shots plugging them in the chest or arms. Wait until they're closer."

"I've got this. Don't worry." I set the box down and then lay beside it with the Nosler aimed out across the plains.

Abe grumbled as he climbed up behind me and the truck bounced as he came.

"Damn it, Abe," I said as I tried to line up my first shot. "Stop wiggling the fucking truck.”

"Do you hear that noise?" he asked and looked around. "What the hell is that? Sounds like a chainsaw or something."

"I don't know," I said. "It sounds pretty far off though. Let's worry about the Greys first, and then we can try to figure out what the sound is."

"Where are they?" he asked. "I can't see shit out there."

Dante handed down the binoculars and Abe was able to easily take them as he stretched up his long arm. He knelt beside me and spied the approaching creatures. "For Christ's sake, kid. They're way the hell out there. That's probably three hundred yards. You're not hitting nothing but landscape from here."

"Well, that's for damn sure if you don't stop shaking the truck."

"And it's windy as hell," he said as I tried to ignore him.

"Ten, fifteen miles an hour tops."

"Yeah, but it's gusty," he said. "Just wait for a bit, would you? Let them get closer."

"Abe, sit the fuck down or get off the truck. And while you're at it, shut up for once in your damn life."

He laid down on top of the truck, the box of ammunition between us. I adjusted my aim for the wind and steadied myself.

"Which one you going for?" asked Abe.

I sighed before answering. "The mop top. Grey hair, all bushy with streaks of white. Over by the stump."

"Yeah, I see her." He peered
into his binoculars as I looked through the scope.

I waited and watched as the zombie staggered through the overgrown field. There's a certain magic to shooting at a distance that's impossible to explain. The wind on my cheek, the gleam of the sun, and the calls of the birds above, all of it seemed to blend into one sensation as I watched my target move. The bitch would eat me if she had the chance, and I took my shot eagerly.

The butt of the rifle jutted against my shoulder, but I was able to keep it steady enough to still watch through the scope as the zombie's head exploded in a mist of black vapor. She crumpled and disappeared amid the weeds.

Abe whistled and shook his head while still looking through the binoculars. "Lucky shot."

I chortled. "Whatever. You call the next one. We'll see how much luck is involved here."

"All right." He scanned the approaching crowd of staggering Greys for a suitable target.

"The skinny one with the blonde hair, between the two guys to the right of the mop top."

I used the Nosler's scope to look for the new target.

"See him?" asked Abe as he snickered. He'd picked a nearly impossible shot and knew it. The blonde haired man was a waif, and I had no good angle on him from where we were. The two zombies in front of him were constantly blocking my shot.

"All right," I said as I ejected the cartridge and loaded another bullet.

Abe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. I'd bet a carton of cigarettes that you can't make that shot."

"Who are you kidding," I said. "You don't have a carton to your name."

"That's all right, I'm not worried. You can't make that shot anyhow."

I gazed through the scope and watched the three zombies bob as they sauntered through the shrubs. Abe was beside me, unwilling to be completely silent as he chuckled while looking through the binoculars. "Ain't gonna happen," he whispered as he stared.

I took the shot, and watched as one of the zombies in front of my blonde target fell backward. Abe was about to rejoice, but then we watched as my target fell too. He dropped to his knees, and then collapsed, his head split in two from my bullet.