Emma: Part One (Outpost Nine Book 1)

EMMA

Part One

OUTPOST NINE

LOLITA
LOPEZ

Night Works Books

College Station, Texas

Copyright © 2014 by Lolita Lopez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

Night Works Books

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College Station, Texas 77845

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Edited by Julie Naughton

Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

Cover Photograph © 2013 The Killion Group, INC.

EMMA: Part One (Outpost Nine)/Lolita Lopez. -- 1st ed.

ISBN
978-1-63042-028-4

For the Viking and Moon Baby

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

About the Author

1
Chapter One

Dry grass and twigs crunched beneath Emma's boots as she walked the perimeter of her fence. The slight hum of electricity filled her ears and made her skin prickle. She kept a safe distance from the high-powered fence. It would fry her just as quickly as the zombies she wanted to keep out of her small plot of land.

Her gaze flicked from link to link of the fence and from the ground to the spiraled razor-wire up top. She used the hoe in her left hand to hack out any weeds that poked through the thick, wide layer of gravel on either side of the fence. Something as simple as a few weeds could spark a fire that would threaten her life.

Every week, she made the rounds on her twenty-plus acres, just the way her father had taught her. She took her time during the inspection. Shoddiness would get her killed. No doubt about it. Besides, it wasn't as if she had anything better to do. Same shit, different day. Year in and year out. Such was the life of a girl in the Outlands.

The unexpected chirp of the handheld radio clipped to her belt started Emma. She swore softly before pulling the radio from its holster. She recognized the Morse code as Avery's call sign and grinned as she signaled back that she was available to talk. Seconds later, Avery's cheerful voice came across the airwaves. "Left foot, left foot!"

Emma laughed and hit the mic. "Right foot, right."

Avery's cheerful chirp filtered across the airwaves. It was a bit scratchy but mostly clear. "What's up, girl?"

"Perimeter walk," Emma said as her gaze returned to the fence. "You?"

"We're in Borden's Crossing doing some house calls. Mom and Dad are trying to decide whether or not one or both of them should stay behind to deliver a set of twins who are due anytime in the next couple of weeks. I'm going to pull some ingrown toenails in a bit."

Emma gagged at the very idea of it, but Avery sounded positively enthusiastic. She had always been fascinated by the gore of surgery and medicine. Good thing, too, considering she was following in her parents' footsteps and learning the trade. Without universities or medical schools, medicine was all hands-on learning these days, and Avery was getting one hell of an education.

"Hey, I don't have long, but I wanted to make sure you knew about some zombie trouble we had not far outside your area."

Emma's gut clenched and she slowed her footsteps. "Oh yeah?"

"Our convoy blasted through them on the highway. They'd put together a roadblock and were waiting for us. We'd just been restocked by the Keatons, so we were loaded for bear. They didn't stand a chance once we opened fire and rammed them with the trucks."

Emma could easily imagine the scene. Avery's family and the rest of their medical convoy traveled in military-style trucks outfitted with cages and heavily armed guards. Like many of us, they bought their ammo and weapons from the Keatons, the best suppliers in the outlands. That family could get their hands on anything.

"That's kind of weird, huh?" Emma said as she resumed her walk. "Zombies putting together a roadblock."

"Yeah," Avery replied. "I mean, they've been growing more sentient over the years, but this is different. These zombies seemed more with it than most. They're usually so primal in their behaviors. Chase. Kill. Eat. These zombies were
thinking
."

"I've been hearing similar reports down the Chain. I guess it makes sense. Zombies have changed so much since they first appeared when our grandparents were babies. The ones we know today are nothing like the old stories."

"That's for sure," Avery replied. "God, I wish we had some of those slow-moving brain-chompers instead of these crazy-ass killers we have now."

"Absolutely." Emma eyed her fence and shuddered. All that stood between her and those monsters was twenty feet of electrified chain-link topped with razor wire. If the electricity went out or the fence malfunctioned, she'd be in danger. "Might be time for me to start doing twice-weekly perimeter checks."

"Do it." Avery sounded very concerned. "I worry about you so much, Emma. You're out there all on your own. I wish you'd come with us. We wouldn't mind."

"I know you wouldn't, Avery." Emma smiled at her friend's kindness. "I'm just not ready. I'm still thinking about it."

"You've been thinking for four years, Emma."

She snorted. "Yeah, you've got me there."

"I heard that Outpost Nine is sending more patrols out beyond the wire. Like way beyond," she added. "Chloe said she saw some Enhancements in the market near New Town."

"No way!" Emma had never laid eyes on any of the so-called Enhancements. They were cyborg soldiers created during the Last War who had proven far more resilient than their makers had intended. They had outlived all those humans and many more, and had all but taken over the entire state of Texas. Or, rather, what was left of Texas. "I wonder why they're patrolling so far out, Avery."

"Mom and Dad think they're looking for women. There are some rumors about infertility in the Outposts."

"Really? Maybe they're not so unlike us then." After the nuclear fallout, the biological agents, and the zombies, so few humans had survived. Most of the males had been rendered infertile by the biological weapons used to blanket cities and quell the virus. Human children like Emma and Avery were a rarity indeed, especially three generations down the line. Folks on the Chain had told her stories of new medical experiments to increase human numbers, but those tales were as much myth and legend as they were truth.

"Emma, just be careful. You're my friend, and I love you. I want you to be safe."

"I will be. I promise."

"Okay. Look," Avery sighed, "I've got to run. Rotten toenails beckon. I'll check in with you soon. Remember what I said about the zombies. They could be headed your way."

"They're going to catch a wad of lead if they do." Her hand drifted to the backpack and weapons strapped to her back. She never left the house without enough firepower to put down a small army.

Avery laughed. "I don't doubt it. All right. I'll catch you later, Emma."

"Later, Avery."

The radio went dead, and Emma experienced a sinking sadness. Being alone 24/7 was finally starting to wear on her. After her father's death, Emma had dug deep and found the resolve to continue on with her life. She had kept the little hobby farm running and made products for barter. She had survived and done well.

But it wasn’t enough.

She had turned twenty-one two months earlier and had celebrated totally alone with some homemade shortbread cookies eaten by candlelight. Oh sure, there had been radio blasts from her friends along the Chain, but it wasn't the same. Voices were great, but they were no substitute for the flesh and blood warmth of another person. Emma craved the touch of another human. She wanted all the things her parents had enjoyed. She wanted love and sex and friendship and support.

Things she was never going to find if she stayed on the farm.

At some point, she was going to have to take a step outside that fence and find a new life. She had even considered going to the New Town market or Borden's Crossing to find a man willing to join her out here and start a life. Arranged marriages were fairly common these days, and no one would have thought ill of her for choosing that route to find her life partner. Only a ridiculous sense of romanticism had stopped her. Emma wanted to fall in love, wanted to feel passion and excitement. She wanted to be swept off her feet and experience the kind of romance she read about in her favorite books.

For now, at least, she wasn't willing to give up the fantasy. Soon enough, reality would force her hand but, for the moment, she intended to believe that someday the man of her dreams would waltz right up to that fence and steal her away from the hell of an outlands existence. That optimism was all that helped maintain her sanity. It had to get better. It just had to, and if she—

Crack. Crack.

Emma jerked at the faint yet unmistakable report of gunshots. Her gaze snapped to the tree line a few hundred yards from the fence. "What the hell?"

Her voice sounded so loud in the normally quiet afternoon. Moments later, more gunshots blasted through the woods. Shaken from her momentary stupor, Emma raced to the nearest guard tower, launched the garden tool onto the tower floor, and quickly scaled the tall ladder. Up on the platform, she slipped free from the weapon slings and carefully placed the rifle and shotgun on the wooden floor. Her backpack landed next to them with a loud
thunk
. She unzipped the front pouch and retrieved an air horn and binoculars.

Crouched down for cover from stray bullets, Emma lifted the binoculars and scanned the trees. More gunshots popped in the distance. They sounded as if they were drawing closer, but Emma thought maybe they were being fired parallel with the fence. She hated the idea that people were being chased out there and running so close to the safety of her fence. They obviously weren't familiar with the area or armed with radios, or else they would have pinged her and begged for help.

Emma picked up the air horn and lifted it overhead. She pressed the button three times, waiting two seconds between blares. She hoped the noise would act as a guide. At the same time, it was a big-ass risk. Those zombies could hear just as well as the people she assumed were being chased.

But the risk of discovery and an ensuing firefight was acceptable to her. She would never be able to live with herself if she found out she could have saved human lives and didn't because of fear of drawing the undead to her doorstep.

Three more blares on the air horn, and she picked up the binoculars again. This time when she heard gunshots, they sounded as if they were being fired away from her, as if the shooters were running toward her and firing behind themselves. She fished a box of rifle rounds from the backpack and put them close at hand. She had five rounds loaded into the rifle. Hopefully she wouldn't need to reload.

Emma continued to watch and listen. She could hear the gunshots drawing closer. Male shouts met her ear. She started to get into her preferred kneeling position for rifle shots when seated this high—but when the first man burst through the tree line as if his ass was on fire, Emma gasped.

No, no, no. That’s not possible.

The second man who exploded from the tree line behind his companion and confirmed her first suspicion. The military uniforms? Their size? The speed and power of their movements? Those men weren’t human.

They were cyborgs.

She swallowed hard as a dozen bloodthirsty, raging zombies emerged from the trees. Cyborgs or not, those men were in trouble. She switched to a sitting stance, widening her thighs and scooting back against the top part of the ladder. Braced against the rungs, she adjusted the rifle against her shoulder, using her knees to support her elbows, and pressed her cheek to the stock. She closed her right eye, letting her dominant left eye take over, and looked down the scope. All those years of hunting with her father were about to be put to use yet again.