Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending (6 page)

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Authors: Brian Stewart

Tags: #Zombie Apocalypse

BOOK: Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending
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“I agree,” Walter chipped. Michelle caught the quick
flash of surprise pass over the face of the gray haired man.

 

“Well then,” the man continued, “we feel that, as a
precaution against another incursion of the . . . sick people . . . there
should be at least a dozen heavily armed and capable men on patrol at all
times. In addition to that, since Howard and I have volunteered the use of our
campers for gate duty, we should receive another stipend of gasoline. Fifteen
to twenty gallons per vehicle should get us through the rest of the night,
possibly even through lunch time tomorrow.”

 

Michelle’s proximity to Walter was enough to note his
sudden, sharp intake of breath, and the subsequent
clack
of his teeth as
he bit down his words. Before he could reply though, Mr. Lancaster chimed in.

 

“Speaking of food, we were told to expect dinner soon,
and as I’ve already mentioned to one of those girls, neither my wife nor myself
prefer rice. And the meat that was served at lunch, which I feel I should also
mention was nothing more than the reheated leftovers of breakfast, was both
tough and gamy.”

 

Michelle flushed with disbelief and anger at the man’s
words, but Walter, apparently sensing her irritation rising, took a sliding
sidestep and positioned himself in front of her.

 

“Mr. Simpson, Mr. Lancaster, I appreciate your
information about the security situation here, as well as the problem with fuel
and food. And while I sympathize with your issues, for right now we’re doing
the best that we can with the limited, very limited . . . resources we have.”

 

A soft
chirp
emanated from Crowbar Mike’s
coveralls.

 

Mike fished out the Fish and Wildlife radio and mashed
down a button, illuminating the display a pale yellowish-green. “Battery meter
is down to one bar. It started chirping about an hour ago.”

 

“We need to get you a new set then,” Walter said.

 

“And that is another issue,” Mr. Simpson began, “the
batteries for our radios are down to about fifty percent. With all the kids
talking back and forth it’s going to wear that down pretty fast. In addition,
my lantern uses six of the “D” sized batteries, and I have generously lent it
to the main group up at the store. I’d like to see about getting some spares
for that as well.”

 

“What radios are you talking about?” Walter asked.

 

“I brought four of the little outdoor walkie-talkies
with me when I left the city. Again, I have generously donated those so the
children and the women up at the store can keep in contact with me . . . and
each other.”

 

Mr. Lancaster stepped forward, and with a brief,
uneasy look at Mike, addressed Walter. “There is another ‘security’ matter that
needs to be dealt with. How are we supposed to see at night? I realize it’s
currently clear, and the Moon will provide some residual light, but I think we
should leave the headlights of both of our RV’s on all night, hence another
reason for additional fuel.”

 

Mike’s gruff monotone cut in, “We’ve had this talk.
You turn them on before they’re needed, and I bust em’ out.”

 

“And I told you that if you take one swing at my
vehicle with that crowbar I’ll shoot you down,” Mr. Lancaster huffed.

 

“You turn on those headlights, and anything . . . any
‘THING’ . . . within a mile is going to come straight towards it,” Mike
replied, a slight edge now in his voice.

 

“The campground is miles . . .”

 

Walter cut him off with a step forward. “Hold up a
minute gentleman, we have enough problems without fighting each other. Now
supper is supposed to be here in less than an hour, and after supper we’ll try
and get some of these things squared away. In the meantime, let’s leave the
headlights off and keep the attitudes in check, OK?”

 

A moment of silence passed before Mike spoke, “Yeah,
that works for me.”

 

Another hushed pause slipped by before Mr. Simpson
replied, “Fine, after supper then.” Without another word he turned and
reentered the camper, Mr. Lancaster hot on his heels.

 

The last rays of sunlight were slipping behind the
horizon as Amy walked up. “Problems?”

 

Walter nodded at her, and then stepped close to Mike,
speaking soft enough so that anybody inside the RV’s couldn’t hear. “We’ll get
you some batteries in a minute. In the meantime try and ignore the ’Ken doll’
and his buddy.”

 

“They’re both . . .”

 

He was cut off by Amy who whispered, “Spineless
assholes.”

 

Mike broke into a smile at her choice of words. “Yeah,
that about covers it.” Turning towards Walter and Michelle he added, “But
they’re right about us needing some changes.”

 

Walter met briefly with each of their eyes before
murmuring, “Oh, I think there’s going to be some changes around here. Very
soon.” Turning towards Mike, he continued, “And I’d really like you to
accompany us right now, but as much as I’d like that, I need you here even more.
And just a heads up—I’d expect to see a sedan coming down from the house pretty
shortly.”

 

“I got this . . . just don’t leave me hanging too
long.” He turned and stepped off of the driveway into the weeds.

 

Without another word, Michelle walked forward,
unhitched the gate and pulled it open. When Walter had driven through, she
closed and latched it. Inside the left-hand RV there was a brief flash of a
cigarette lighter, followed by the faint red glow of a drag.  Michelle could
feel the unseen eyes upon her as she stepped towards the ATV.

 

They traveled the last twenty yards or so of driveway
proper before entering the large gravel expanse of the marina’s lot. To the
left Michelle could see the corner of Ghost Echo Lake, and the forty-five foot
wide, double capacity boat ramp that sloped gently into the dark water. To the
right, visible in the dim early evening light as well as her memory, was the
marina itself. Not so much a marina in the true sense, it was more of a
collection of five buildings that catered to the various functions of the
business. Closest to the highway was the ‘L’ shaped, cement block building that
held the combination general store, bait shop, and gas station all in one.
Moving away from the highway around the store brought you to the building that
Walter called his office. Also made out of cinder blocks, it was the location
where they had shared that wonderful meal just a few days ago . . . before
everything went to hell.

 

Walter turned the wheel right and drove past the
office. A rapid fire zigzag left, and then right put them between the huge boat
storage warehouse and two smaller buildings. The warehouse, Michelle estimated,
was almost 120 feet long, and maybe a third of that wide. Built ‘pole barn’
style and covered with prefabricated sheets of galvanized sheet metal, it was
the newest building on the property. Of the two buildings on the left, Michelle
knew that the one farthest away from the store held the large tank of propane.
The other one she wasn’t sure about.

 


This is crow’s nest to donkey, do you read
?”
The three Fish and Wildlife radios, one on each of the ATV’s occupant’s belts,
crackled to life simultaneously.

 

Walter pulled the radio off his waist, keyed the
button and replied, “
It’s mule, not donkey, Thompson
.”

 

The mirth in Thompson’s voice was evident as he
transmitted back, “
Yeah whatever. I’m just makin’ sure that it’s you down
there. Can you . . . uh, hold on a second
. . .” Thompson kept the button
depressed, and the faint sound of paper shuffling could be heard. “
Yeah, um,
can you 10-61 at this time
?”

 

Walter looked at Michelle for help. “I didn’t bring my
cheat sheet, what’s he asking?”

 

“He’s asking if it’s OK to talk, in other words, he
wants to know if you’re surrounded by people you trust to hear whatever’s going
to come over the radio next.”

 

“What’s the correct jargon for telling him that I’m
with two suspicious females?” The millisecond of dead silence was interrupted
when Amy kicked a shoe-full of gravel at his shins.

 

Walter danced, dodging the shrapnel and waving his
hands. “I was kidding, I was kidding,” he laughed.

 

Michelle bit down her own amusement as she pulled the
radio off her belt. “
Thompson, this is Michelle, Amy and I are with Walter,
but go ahead and switch to PC four
.”

 


Roger that, switching to priority channel four
.”

 

Walter keyed the access code, and then pushed the
channel select arrow until it stopped on four. A moment later Thompson’s voice
came across.

 


Old mule, do you copy
?”

 

Even in the dim light Michelle could see Walter
grinning as he shook his head. “
It’s just ‘mule,’ Mr. Thompson, not old
mule, stubborn donkey, or ill tempered ass—all of which you’ve called me in the
last twenty-four hours over this radio
.”

 


Yes sir, I’ll try and remember,
” Thompson
replied with an amused snort. “
Anyhow, just a couple of quick things. First
thing is my radio’s been chirping—think the batteries are shot. Second thing is
about five minutes ago I think I saw some headlights down the highway to the
east. By the time I got my binoculars up they was gone, though
.”

 

Walter, Michelle, and Amy exchanged a quick look as
Thompson finished. “
Last thing is that it’s cold up here on this roof.
Whoever you got comin’ up next needs to dress for the occasion
.”

 

Michelle glanced at the roof of the store where
Thompson was positioned as their primary scout, but she couldn’t see him.

 


OK
,” Walter replied, “
we’ll change out the
batteries in all the radios at supper time . . . should be in less than an
hour. Keep an eye out for any more headlights—or anything else—that might be
coming down the road
.”

 


Will do
.” Another open-aired pause came across
before Thompson spoke again. “
Hey, somethin’ else. I know I ain’t sitting on
the roof of a building full of ghosts, but someone should probably tell ‘em
that if they keep making as much noise as they have been, they might just
become ghosts
.”

 

Michelle watched as Walter rubbed his temple for a
moment before replying in a tired voice, “
I know, I’ll see what we can do.
Mule out
.”

 

With another slow shake of his head, Walter changed
the radio frequency back to the main channel, hooked it on his belt and looked
up at Amy. “You got any suggestions?”

 

“I could give you about a hundred reasons—physiologically,
psychologically, and emotionally—why they’re acting that way, but it won’t
change anything right now.” Amy gently reached out a hand and set it on
Walter’s shoulder. “Remember, everybody here has experienced a radical shift in
their reality. Everybody here has experienced violence, tragedy, and loss.”
With a sympathetic nudge of Walter’s shoulder, she re-emphasized, “Everybody.”

 

Walter frowned, “I know . . . and I ain’t saying that
anybody has got off Scot free, but it sure feels like the sheep are greatly
outnumberin’ the wolves we have available, and my gut is telling me that very
soon we’re going to need a lot of wolves.”

 

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, Walter, and I can
certainly understand, given the mantle of responsibility that’s been placed on
you, but maybe it’s not wolves that we need.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Maybe . . . instead of wolves, we need sheepdogs.”

 

Michelle stood silent as Walter paused, considering
Amy’s words. Finally, with a shake of his head and the straightening of his
shoulders, Walter said, “I wouldn’t mind having a few sheep dogs either . . .
but I’ve got a bad feeling that if we don’t find some more wolves, we’re not
going to have any sheep left.”

 

With a quick glance at the luminous numbers on his
watch, Walter cleared his throat and said, “We need to get moving.” He turned
and walked toward the back side of the propane storage building. Michelle and
Amy followed.

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