Shades of Gray (20 page)

You get the point.

“As long as those bastards are…what
are
they doing? Creating zombies with a destination in mind? Whatever you want to call it, as long as they’re doing that, no one is safe. Hell, like we were safe before…” Jonah said, trailing off at the end and simply shaking his head, face red and nostrils flaring.

“Based on everything we’ve seen and heard, it sure sounds to me like they
are
making them—and releasing them. Why? Who the fuck knows? These runners, the ones we knew? They found their way back home,” John added.

“They’re retaining memory. How do we know that’s all they remember?” Michael asked. “What if it goes much further than that?”

“I can’t understand why anyone with the means and know-how would purposely
make
more deadheads. To what end? Why whip up a batch of walking dead who can remember shit from before, and then set them loose? What’s that accomplish?”

I glanced around as I spoke, trying to trim everything down to those specific points. There was too much going on all at once, and it was becoming increasingly clear that we were losing focus, getting sidetracked. Waters cleared his throat and the room quieted once more, the only sounds being Gus’ snoring and everyone’s slightly increased breathing.

“What if they’ve been working on a vaccine?” Mia asked. Her voice was so low, I could barely hear her, and I was sitting right next to her. Chairs creaked as everyone leaned forward again.

“What was that, Mia?” John asked from across the table, his voice softening a bit. Mia looked up, arms still crossed, and met my eyes for a moment before addressing the entire table.

“What if they’ve been experimenting, maybe trying to create a vaccine, and simply releasing the test subjects after realizing they’d failed, instead of killing them outright. Moving on with more tests on the new groups coming in?”

“Goddamn,” Michael hissed.

I admit I was a little shocked that no one had come up with that theory before then. That’s what happens when you let your emotions dominate the thought process.

“Well now, I think we have a winner,” Waters said, speaking up for the first time since the debate had begun.

* * *

The “dining room debate” wrapped up pretty quickly once Mia voiced her theory. We all agreed it made the most sense, even though there were still many details we didn’t understand. Granted, we could have been completely off base, simply pulling the first theory that made sense out of our asses and running with it. But it was something to go on. Regardless, we all concurred that the next move was ours, and that move should be made on the CC, while they were still unaware of their solders’ mutiny. Catch them by surprise, that was the plan. Waters had said that the CC was lightly guarded now; most of the soldiers who had been stationed there had long since gone AWOL, running home to be with their families, or finally cracking under the pressure and hauling ass as far away as possible.

As Waters was leaving to return to the prison with his men, he’d left instructions with Michael to be ready to hit the road just after dawn. That would give his men plenty of time to take care of the swarm heading north toward us, and the rest to load supplies and ready the Humvees. Apparently the good Captain was under the mistaken impression that the rest of the Winchester gang would be sitting this adventure out. His instructions had been for Michael only. Soon as he’d left, Michael gathered us all in the Head Room and relayed everything Waters had said to him.

Needless to say, we were all going.

“Jake still upstairs?” I asked Mia after everyone had filed out of the old den.

She and I were standing at the window, casually looking through the sheer drapes, pretending we weren’t about to prepare and pack for what would most likely be a suicide mission.

“I think so. I didn’t see him come back down.” She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was listening in. My eyes followed hers; we were alone. “Would I be overreacting if I said I didn’t think he was in any shape to be doing this sort of thing?”

“Mia,” I began, but bit my lip and thought twice before finishing. When she’d had concerns about me, she had been right. I’d given her a lot of shit about it, yet she
had
been right. And I knew she was right now. Except we didn’t have much of a choice.

“Mia,” I said again, “we’ve all had to deal with losing them. We’re still dealing with it. I know, Nancy was his grandma. I get it. But none of us have the time or luxury to grieve right now. Maybe, when this is all over, he’ll have a break. Maybe we’ll all get a break.” I sighed and looked out the window a moment, thinking back on Ben’s death, and then Zack’s, and how the three of us had stuck together through them.

“Jake comes with us. We need him, and he needs us. Besides,” I looked over my shoulder this time, dropping my voice to just above a whisper. “If he’s with us, we can keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Who’s gonna keep an eye on you?”

She knows.

No she doesn’t. Calm down. You’re not even feeling any symptoms yet.

“C’mon, let’s get our shit together, make sure Jake is up to speed.” I smacked her on the shoulder and turned to leave, but Mia’s fingers wrapping around my elbow stopped me.

“We won’t live through this, will we?”

Out loud I said, “Does it really matter anymore?” while thinking,
I’d rather die saving people than eating them.

“No, I don’t suppose it does.”

“Then let’s get ready. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna meet my maker wearing dirty underwear.”

November 22nd

The trip from Blueville Correctional to Pency was an estimated 110 miles. That was a straight shot. Realistically, we were looking at a 200 mile trip at
least
. That wasn’t taking into consideration all the detours we’d most likely end up taking because of a number of things, including car accidents, clogged roads, nature wreaking havoc on said roads (remember, the roads hadn’t been maintained in over a year). Oh, and deadheads. Can’t forget those. Both fast and slow zombies prowling the blacktop. Admittedly, the slow variety was harder to find. Based on all this, we knew the trip was going to take a toll on our nerves. Imagine a long road trip with a few friends, plus one insanely stupid one, and that’s exactly what my ride to the CC was like. Oh, and imagine doing it in a Humvee. Sure, that sounds pretty cool. But after a day and a half of it, my ass would be the first to say it’s no Cadillac.

Captain Waters wasn’t at all pleased when the entire Winchester clan had showed up at the prison on the morning of The Departure. As he came to find out, there wasn’t much he could do to stop us. It was either take us along within the safety of the Unit, or we’d follow along in the old pickup, the big honkin’ SUV, or on bicycles. That last had been Todd’s idea (I know, big surprise there). Waters decided on the former. Each of us had brought only one backpack apiece, along with one long gun (shotgun or rifle, it was left to personal preference), a sidearm, sufficient ammunition for said guns, and one melee weapon. Compared to Waters and his men, we’d packed
light
.

The soldiers were armed to the hilt, not to mention the 50 cal. one Humvee was sporting on its roof, and the storage compartments of each of the three vehicles were absolutely packed with food, water, camping supplies, and whatever else they’d been able to stuff in there. We were a band of gypsies, self-sufficient and mobile. There had been a heated and lively discussion between a few of us and Waters the morning we’d left over the vehicles we’d be taking and who’d be going, since the damn Humvees only seated four asses each. To us lowly civilians, it seemed to be overkill. Three Humvees? Like those wouldn’t draw attention to us. As ardently as we’d argued that point, Waters wouldn’t budge. He’d take safety over low-key any day of the week, and twice on Sundays.

“We’re in for a long haul,” Waters said, going into instant military lecture mode. “The dangers we will face due to that fact dictates how we mobilize. You want to bicycle your fool selves through infested wasteland? Be my guest. You won’t last two minutes out there. If you’re going with us, you’re riding with us. End of discussion. Besides, I’ll have eyes in the sky most of the way. We’ll know in advance if we’re about to be attacked, and we’ve got the artillery to take care of it.”

In the end, he had made a pretty convincing argument.

So the seven of us split up amongst the three vehicles, and Waters had compromised on the number of soldiers he’d take so he could squeeze us in. Seven civilians, one dog, five soldiers (including himself), a shitload of guns, and the helicopter sweeping the area in a fifty mile radius for the first half of the trip.

It really seemed like nothing could go wrong.

* * *

It was nightfall of the second day by the time Waters decided we’d traveled far enough without a break. He was riding shotgun in the lead Humvee, PFC Church was driving, and Michael and John were in the back. Jonah and Todd were backseat passengers of the middle Humvee, being driven by Corporal Adder and co-piloted by Private Jonese, while Mia, myself, Gus (he was always my early warning system, couldn’t leave him behind), and Jake were bringing up the rear with the good Private Willis. He couldn’t drive for shit, but he was funny as hell and kept Jake entertained most of the time.

“How’re we supposed to sleep in these damn things?” Jake grumbled from the passenger seat.

The convoy had left the road and was parked in the middle of a pine thicket. There was no underbrush and the moon was full, so it could have been worse. I unfastened my lap belt and leaned up between the seats, gently shoving a happy and slobbering Gus out of the way.

“I don’t think we’re sleeping in the Humvees, Jake,” I mumbled in reply.

Mia nodded in agreement, though all of us were thinking the same thing: it would be safer inside the armored vehicles. Our heads turned this way and that, trained eyes surveying the area outside the tiny windows. It looked like a peaceful, moonlit night. But we knew what was out there, had been reminded of it on too many occasions. In the back of my mind a gruesome scene kept playing over and over again. We’d wake up at dawn, hundreds of runners would be all over us, swallowing the convoy, and there’d be no hope of escape.

Or I’d die in my sleep, reanimate, and slaughter my friends. Good news was it had been a few days since noticing the scratches, and I
still
felt fine. It didn’t make sense, but I figured I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“No, we won’t sleep in here,” Willis finally said just as the radio squawked to life. “Willis,” he answered.

“Help set a perimeter. We’re making camp,” Waters ordered. As Willis gave his confirmation, the three of us were busy giving each other the bug-eyed stare. Gus was still smiling and drooling, a condition of dogs not having lips.

“Alright folks, move out.” Willis shuffled around in his seat, unfastening things and double checking his gear, wasting no time in throwing open the door and slamming it shut before we could even make a peep.

“So…” Jake said quietly. We stared through the windshield, watching Waters’ men pile out of the vehicles.

“We’ll be fine, guys. Remember Waters said the chopper was scouting ahead? I’m sure this whole area is secure. No worries, okay?” I said. That vein in Mia’s neck was really sticking out, and Jake was wearing his ass-kicking face.

“Yeah. We’ll be fine. Fine, she says,” Mia mumbled. She grabbed her bag and inched the door open.

Gus jerked his head back and forth, eagerly waiting to see which of us he’d be following out.

“And she bitches at me for doin’ that,” Jake added, stepping to the ground and joining Mia by the front end of the Humvee. I paid less attention to them and more to Waters. I kept my eyes on him and slid from the vehicle, backpack and rifle slung over my shoulder.

“C’mon, boy.” I snapped my fingers. Gus’ feet barely made a sound when they hit the ground.

Waters and his men were huddled close to the middle Humvee, while Michael and the others hung back off to the side, quietly watching the soldiers. I stole another glance towards the pines and took a deep breath. It was going to be a long trip.

As the four of us joined Michael, a few of Waters’ men were breaking away from the group and checking their weapons. I noticed none of them were bothering with flashlights. I knew from experience, after locking and loading a million times, you can pretty much do it one-handed and blindfolded.

Waters turned at our arrival and moved to my side. “I want the three of you with them. Set up positions on both flanks and rear. You’ll be relieved in four hours.”

I nodded before Jake could say anything sarcastic and began herding him and Mia back the way we came, Gus quietly at my heel, but not before giving Michael, John, and Jonah a stern look. One that said, “Keep your eyes open and don’t let us get eaten.”

I didn’t know how to make a, “But you can let Todd get eaten,” look.

* * *

The ground was dank and spongy; layers of pine needles cushioned every step like wet cotton. The air was also damp, the kind that drilled right down into the bone. Everything about the pine forest was wet, but for no apparent reason. It hadn’t rained in weeks, nor had it snowed, yet the air held the scent of a spring shower just after the storm, and it was as still as the surface of a mirror. The full light of the moon and the silence that hung would allow them time to react if trouble came screaming into the camp.