Zombie Rules (Book 3): ZFINITY (15 page)

The bus was parked on the west side of the Mill Creek Bridge as we jogged up. Everyone was standing around in a loose defensive position, but they were obviously waiting on Fred or me to act. A caravan of three motorhomes and a black van with tinted windows had stopped on the other side of the bridge. I recognized the van, and the person who got out. I quickly looked around for Fred. He wasn’t anywhere, which I took as a good sign.

“Find a spot and cover me,” I said to Andie. She took off at a run and disappeared into some bushes.

“Where the hell is she going?” Anthony asked.

I deferred answering and reached for my radio. “Fred, are you covering?” he responded with a single click of his microphone.

“10-4, Andie is doing the same,” I responded and turned back to Anthony. “She’s my backup in case it goes to shit. Fred’s doing the same thing.”

“They’re going to kill those people?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“It depends on them,” I responded under my breath while gesturing at the new arrivals. “Now, you and your wife keep your weapon handy. Don’t point it at anyone, but be ready to act.”

I walked to the middle of the bridge and stood there, waiting. I watched as Chet Henry casually walked up. It had been a few months since I had seen him. It had been a friendly encounter, but I was still wary of him.

“Well, if it isn’t Zach the Zombie Killer,” Chet said with a smart-assed grin on his face as he walked up. A few of his friends had gotten out of their vehicles and were standing some distance back.

I gestured toward him and spoke to my group. “Everyone, this is Chet Henry, a former police officer, now a – hmm, what would you call yourself now, Chet?”

“Well, I suppose you can call me a survivor, like all of us, right?” he replied and walked a little closer, hesitating a moment before extending his hand. I shook it and looked him over. He’d lost a little weight since the last time I saw him, but he still had a thick neck and chest. A Glock handgun was holstered on his waist. I glanced at it.

“Your holster is unsnapped, Chet. Are you expecting trouble?”

He looked down at it in mock surprise, and then looked back at his friends. “Y’all remember me telling you about the kid who beat McElroy to death?” he pointed at me. “Here he is, in the flesh,” he turned back to me and looked me over as he snapped the holster shut. “You’ve put on some meat in the shoulders since the last time I’ve seen you. In fact, all of you people look pretty healthy. Y’all must be eating pretty damn good.”

I made a quick count. Five of them had exited the vehicles, but the van’s dark tinted windows prevented me from seeing anyone inside. As I looked at the fencing they had jury rigged across the windows, the side door slid open abruptly and a woman jumped out. She strode purposely over to us, and although she was rougher around the edges than the last time I saw her, I recognized her immediately. She stopped beside Chet, who was looking at her quizzically.

“I thought I recognized you,” she said, with no amount of friendliness.

“Do you two know each other?” Chet asked in surprise.

“Yeah, you might say that,” Janet answered.

It was Janet Frierson, the mother of Julie and Tommy. Wait, she was now
my
mother-in-law
. Shit, it was a nauseating thought. Mac had walked up beside me when Janet approached. Chet gazed at her in wonder.

“Hello, Janet,” I said, and looked at Mac. “This is Julie’s mother.”

“You have a daughter?” Chet asked as he looked at Janet. She never acknowledged Chet, instead she gave me a hard stare.

“Where is the little slut?” Janet retorted.

Mac took a quick step forward where she was now within a couple of inches from Janet, who widened her eyes and instinctively took a step back. “Lady, if you say something like that again, I’m a going to knock the livin’ hell out of you,” Mac emphasized it with a poke in Janet’s chest, and then she looked over at Chet. “Then I’ll knock the hell out of you for good measure.”

Chet retreated back a step as well and held his hands up. “Easy now.”

“This is Mac,” I said. “She’s very protective of people she cares about, so if I were you, I’d watch what you say,” I put my hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She continued glaring, but it lessened slightly. “Why are you guys here, Chet?” I asked.

“We’re looking to relocate,” he said, matter-of-factly.

I nodded in apparent understanding. “I see. Well, good luck in your quest,” I looked at my watch. “You guys better get a move on. You only have a few hours of daylight left.”

I casually tapped the top of my head. It was the military hand signal for ‘cover me’ which we also used as a signal for caution. I looked them over a moment longer before turning to speak to the rest of my group. They were all standing near the bus, rifles at the ready. Before I could speak, Chet interrupted.

“Zach!” he practically shouted. Mac jumped in between the two of us as I turned around and I thought she was going to make good on her threat. Chet stood there looking at me, but not glaring with anger. He was looking at me earnestly, almost pleadingly.

“Mac, would you mind going back with Terry and standing by?” I asked. She didn’t want to, but I gave her a gentle squeeze on the arm. She nodded, and cast a baleful glare at the two of them before walking back to the bus.

Chet turned to Janet. “Go back to the van. I want to talk to Zach in private.”

She did not want to be excluded from the conversation, but I think Mac had unnerved her somewhat, so she scowled at Chet pointedly for a moment before walking back to join the others. I motioned to a spot nearby where nobody could overhear us.

“Where did you find her at?” I asked.

“Who, Janet?” he made a face, like last night’s dinner was not agreeing with him. “It’s more like she found us. She showed up a few months ago. We were trying to round up some cattle when she drove up in a car that was on its last legs. She said her group and family had been wiped out. I didn’t even know she had a daughter. How did you meet?”

“We met after the plague. She and her family had driven up from Fayetteville. There was a disagreement of sorts and we parted company. Her daughter ended up coming back to us,” I watched his body language as I asked the next question. “Is her son still with her?”

He looked surprised. “She has a son too?” he shook his head in wonderment and glanced over his shoulder at her. “She said her whole family had been killed, what a lying little bitch.”

His response seemed genuine, which convinced me he was not part of the group of the two men who had assaulted Tommy. I snorted in disgust. One thing for certain, Janet was a bitch. She was a survivor, but she was still a bitch. I wanted to know about what Janet had been doing all of this time, but it was a topic for a later discussion. I changed the subject.

“So, what’s up with you guys?”

“Listen, Zach. We were living up in the Old Hickory area and making a go of it. We were doing okay, nothing special, but then something happened, a toxic spill from one of the factories or something. We went out fishing one morning at the lake, but all of the fish were dead,” he shook his head ruefully at the memory. “Hundreds, no, thousands of them were floating on the water. They were all bloated and rotting. It was sickening,” he sighed. “We should have left the lake immediately, but we were too curious I guess. Whatever killed the fish made us sick as dogs,” he inhaled and wiped his face.

“The zombies up there, there’s something going on with them. Right in the middle of us being sick and feeling lousy as hell, those sons of bitches got through our fence lines and attacked us that night. We lost five people before we could kill them all, and we used up most of our ammo doing it. The next morning, we packed everything we could and left. We’ve got maybe a month’s worth of rations stored in the RVs, but then we’re going to be in dire straits.”

Chet grimaced. “We headed out with no clear destination in mind. We’ve been on the road almost a week now, looking for a suitable place,” he turned back and looked at his friends momentarily. “We’re very low on ammunition, so it’s not like we can go into a neighborhood, clear out the zombies, and make ourselves at home. Everyone’s nerves are frayed. Arguments are frequent. We can’t discuss anything without it turning into a shouting match. This morning I was sitting in the van listening to all of the mindless prattle and wondering where we could go. For some reason, I thought of you guys and how prosperous you seemed. Do you remember our conversation a few months ago on Murfreesboro Pike?” he stared at me hopefully as I nodded. “If you remember, you said if we behave like gentlemen, we’d be welcome. We need some help, Zach.”

I looked over his shoulder at his friends. They were standing in a group, talking amongst themselves, but eyeing us warily. “There seems to be a whole lot of animosity with your group,” I responded. Chet started to shake his head, but I held up a hand. “Even with you, Chet. The way you introduced me to your people was not a cordial, friendly introduction. In fact, it was a little bit on the side of passive aggression. You let them know right away that I’m the one who killed your friend. It was total bullshit, Chet, and now you think we’re obligated to help you out,” when I put it into words, it started to piss me off. I started feeling the rage rise in me. I took a slow, deep breath.

“What’s your status?” he inquired.

Chet heard it. “Who was that?” he asked.

“It’s Fred. Apparently, he sees how pissed off you’ve made me.”

“The guy with the pistols?” he asked, looking around. “I don’t see him anywhere. I don’t see the guy with the long ZZ Top beard either.”

“Don’t worry, they see you,” I replied, not bothering to mention Rowdy was back at the farm taking care of the chores, or quite possibly taking an afternoon nap. Chet immediately understood the implication and looked around worriedly.

“Chet and I are discussing things,” I said into the radio, “standby.”

Chet listened, sighed and held his hands out pleadingly.

“What do you want me to say, Zach? If it makes any difference, I apologize for my behavior. It was a poor choice of words. Like I said, my nerves are shot and I’m not thinking clearly.”

I stood there, staring at the group. They apparently had run out of things to say to each other and were now staring at us silently.

“Alright, I’m going to talk it over with my friends. Excuse me a moment,” I said and walked away from everyone so nobody could hear.

“Alright guys,” I said into the radio. Fred, Andie, and Terry were the only ones on the frequency. I explained the situation to them and what I thought was our best course of action. They agreed. I walked over to Mac and the others, and explained everything to them. When there were no objections, I walked back to Chet, who was waiting expectantly.

“I’d like for your group to gather around and listen to what I have to say,” I said. Chet looked at me quizzically and motioned for all of them to join us. There were ten of them altogether; six men and four women, all of them seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties. No children.

“Chet has asked us for all of you to relocate in this area.”

One of them snorted and spit on the ground. “It’s not like you can say who can and can’t live around here, bud.”

I looked him over. “What’s your name?”

“Rich. Richard Buckhalter,” he replied. He didn’t offer to shake hands.

“Well, Rich, you’re wrong. In fact, I am proclaiming this area under our control and we determine who lives here and who doesn’t,” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “You’ll have to go through all of us if you think differently.”

Richard glared at me and started to walk forward. It was amazing to me the audacity of some people. He was lean with a bur haircut, almost six feet in height, and probably thought of himself as a tough guy. Before he took a step though, Chet reached over, grabbed him by the upper arm and squeezed so hard Richard’s face winced in pain. Chet jerked him close.

“You dumbass, did you not listen when I told y’all what happened with McElroy? He jumped Zach and got himself beaten to death. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Besides, he has at least two of his crew with sniper rifles on us,” Chet let go of his arm with a shove, glared at his friend a second, and turned toward me. “Zach, once again, I apologize.”

I looked at the two men pointedly before speaking. “I’ve spoken with my friends and they agree with my idea. I’d like for your group to set up camp at the Walmart parking lot up the road. The area is relatively clear of zombies, but you will still want to post guards. We’ll come by tomorrow at noon, we’ll bring some food, have lunch together, and maybe we can work something out,” I paused and pointed at Rich. “I’ll say this - all I’m getting from you people at the moment are feelings of hostility and animosity. So I’m asking you, Chet, why in the world would we want people in our community who act in such a manner?”

“You make a good point,” Chet conceded and looked at his group of people. “We’re going to have a long talk this evening and straighten things out.”

We watched as they loaded up and drove off. Benny stood beside me anxiously.

“Are they bad people, Zach?” he asked.

“Our first encounter was not very pleasant. We’ve seen them around a couple of times since. We’ve been more or less hospitable toward each other.”