Zombie Rules (Book 3): ZFINITY (32 page)

I was certain the drone’s GPS system was not working. It didn’t mean the drone was worthless, it only meant the operator of the drone needed some exceptional skills. In addition to having superior drone piloting skills, they’d need an accurate topographic map and be proficient in their map reading skills. Which lead to the following speculation: if they were going to pay us a visit, the most probable location we’d encounter them would be the intersection of Nolensville Pike and Concord Road.

“What makes you think they’re coming from this direction,” Janet asked when we had stopped the truck.

“If they come from I-65, they’ll drive down Concord Road. If they are somewhere in Nashville, they’ll most likely come down Nolensville Pike,” I answered. “Either route they take, they’ll end up here.” It sounded good, but I guess Janet was not satisfied with my logic.

“What makes you think they won’t come in from the back roads, or maybe even fly in?” she asked. I looked at her in exasperation.

“Do you remember that wise advice Andie gave you? If you stop and think a minute, this is the most probable avenue of approach, if they bother coming at all. We can’t cover everything, so unless you have a better idea, please stop second guessing me and help out.” I grimaced in disgust. I don’t know why I let her come with us, but she had insisted on it.

“Okay, so why didn’t we simply sit at home and wait for them?” I was starting to get angry now.

“Give Sun Tzu a read sometime and you’ll have your answer.” She looked at me like I’d said something dirty to her. Obviously, she didn’t read very much. We’d not even met these people with the drone and she’d already put me in a foul mood. I shook off the negative thoughts and pointed.

“Let’s get this stuff unloaded and set up.”

We set up a couple of picnic tables in the middle of the road along with a cornucopia of home grown food. Once we were set up, Kelly, Marc, Ward, and yours truly, waited patiently. Felix and his friends opted out, along with the rest of the Alabama crowd. I didn’t bother asking Richard and his buds. Andie and Terry were set up on the roof of the old Publix with their favorite sniper rifles. I had no idea where Fred was hiding, but didn’t worry about it.

When we hammered out the plan the night before, Andie whispered to me that maybe Janet would meet an unfortunate accident. I refrained from laughing, but didn’t bother admonishing her.

I hauled the drone out of the truck and laid it on the roadway. Terry and I had tinkered with it last night and were pretty sure how to activate it. I activated my walkie-talkie.

“Alright y’all, is everyone in place and ready?” Everyone answered in the affirmative and I nodded in satisfaction.

“Okay, let’s see if this works.”

I had an attentive audience looking over my shoulder as I reattached the power connection and fiddled with the video camera. After a minute, a little red light came on and the lens began rotating and stopped when it angled itself to my face. I held up my notepad in which I had written an invitation, the location we were currently at, and CB channel 19.

“Do you think this will work?” Kelly asked. I shrugged.

“Fifty-fifty I’d say,” I responded. I could see the nervousness on everyone. I didn’t show it outwardly, but I was nervous too. It wasn’t so long ago I met with a group of soldiers and ended up getting shot. I fought the urge to rub the scar on the side of my head and pointed at the big Volvo truck. “If anybody does show up and it doesn’t look right, I want you to get in the truck. Lock yourself in until we determine their intent. If it goes bad, get out of here, the rest of the gang will cover you. Kelly, you’ll be the one driving.”

Kelly nodded nervously. Fred had only given her a couple of driving lessons, but she still wasn’t sure of herself.

“What about the rest of you?” Kelly finally asked. Before I could answer, the radio came to life.

“Would the drone killer happen to be listening?” a disembodied male voice asked over the radio. I walked over to the truck and reached for the microphone. Everyone followed and crowded around me.

“We’re here. My name is Zach Gunderson. Would you care to identify yourself?” I asked.

“This is Colonel Coltrane of the United States Marine Corps,” replied the voice. Needless to say, there was more than one surprised expression. “What is your current position?” he asked.

“We’re at the intersection of Nolensville Pike and Concord Road. If you have friendly intentions, please join us for lunch.”

“Affirmative,” he replied. “Our ETA is ten minutes.”

“Oh, and Colonel,” I said, “I’ve had at least one unpleasant encounter with military personnel not so long ago. I don’t want to see any weapons pointed in our direction.” The response was quicker than I expected.

“Be advised you and your people will need to be unarmed when we arrive.”

I was instantly irked and glared at the microphone a couple of seconds before responding.

“Then save your fuel and turn around, Colonel. We will not disarm for anyone,” I said. “Oh, and what is it you military people say? Over and out.” I looked around at my friends. “Disarm my ass. Alright, everyone, let’s load the food up and move out. We’ll come back for the chairs and tables later,” I said. Nobody needed any further urging. Everyone, even Janet, moved with a purpose.

“What about the drone?” Kelly asked. I looked it over. It would be a nice piece of equipment to have, but we didn’t have the control console for it.

“We’ll leave it for them.”

Kelly stopped and cocked her head. “I think I hear engines.”

I stopped what I was doing. I still had a constant ringing in one of my ears due to being shot, so I didn’t hear anything, at least, not at first. We all looked down Nolensville Pike. There were two HUMVEES driving side by side. They ignored the potholes as they quickly approached, leaving no doubt they had already spotted us.

“Everyone, get in the truck,” I ordered, pulled my walkie off of my waistband and spoke on the sideband channel. “Did you guys hear the conversation on the CB?”

“I did,” Terry said. The two military vehicles stopped a hundred yards away. Both vehicles had an M60 machine gun mounted on the roof and each was manned by a soldier wearing a gas mask. Both of them had their hands on the weapons.

“Well, alrighty then. They’re here,” I said. “I don’t know if this is going to be friendly or not. I’m going to have a little chat with the Colonel on the CB, y’all listen in.”

I motioned to Kelly, who handed me the microphone through the open door. Before I could speak, the Colonel keyed up.

“Gunderson, is that you standing beside the truck? I see you’re armed. Not smart, kid. In the interest of safety, you and your people need to lay down your weapons.”

“Colonel, you don’t seem to understand. Your lives are in danger, especially the two knuckleheads pointing their M60s at us. If this goes bad, it’ll be your fault, Colonel.”

There was a long moment of silence before he responded.

“Would this be called a Mexican Stand-off?” he asked.

“Not at all, we’re leaving. Please don’t try to follow us or we’ll consider it a hostile act.”

“We should at least see what they have to say,” Janet said. I looked at her harshly and was about to respond when the Colonel spoke on the radio again.

“How about we do this? You and I meet halfway. I’m going to bring one other person with me and you do the same.”

I thought it over. “Agreed,” I said. “Render those machine guns safe and have your soldiers move away from them. I’ll only have a sidearm and I’ll keep it holstered.” I looked at Janet. “You said you wanted to hear what they had to say? You’re coming with me.”

Two soldiers were already walking toward us. Janet reluctantly got out of the truck and followed me as I walked toward the soldiers. I watched as the two other soldiers opened the feed tray of their respective M60s and disappeared inside their vehicle.

The Colonel, identified by the silver eagle affixed on his Kevlar helmet, was a tall man, maybe six and a half feet. He was lean and lanky, and he had a Beretta semiautomatic handgun holstered on his side. His partner was more diminutive, well under six feet, and unarmed. Instead, he had a camouflage knapsack on his shoulders. His rank identified him as a Major. They were both wearing military issue gas masks. I waited until they got within ten feet before speaking.

“Unless you two know something I don’t, the pathogen is not airborne,” I said and pointed at my chest. “I’m living proof of that.”

The Colonel looked at his partner before taking off his helmet and removing his mask. He then tucked it away in the pouch on the side of his leg before putting his helmet back on, assuming a parade rest posture and appraising us with dark brown eyes. His skin was dark as coal, reminding me of the late Lieutenant Ward. His features were lean and sharp, like the Lieutenant’s, but the similarities ended there. The Colonel had a nose which looked like it had been flattened in the boxing ring and his face was pockmarked with old scars. I subconsciously rubbed the scar on my cheek.

“I hate the damn thing,” he quipped about the mask and looked over at his fellow soldier. “Parsons, go ahead and take it off, the kid’s right.”

The Colonel introduced himself, as the Major carefully folded and stowed his mask in the same fashion as the Colonel.

“I’m Colonel Almose Coltrane of the glorious United States Marine Corps, currently assigned to the CBIRF. That’s Chemical Biological Incident Response Force to you civilian personnel. In the interest of hygiene, we’re not shaking hands.” He turned toward his comrade. “This is Major Parsons, he’s a doctor and he’s not shaking hands either. That shit may not be airborne, but you can damn sure catch it through physical contact.”

He made a good point and I nodded in understanding. “I’m Zach Gunderson and this is Janet Frierson. State your business, Colonel.”

The Colonel exhaled and glared at me like I’d just farted. “Why is it every group of survivors we run into has no respect for the authority of the United States Military?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, Colonel?” I asked. He continued glaring.

“Of course it’s a rhetorical question,” he replied in a low sardonic growl. “Why in the hell would I ask a question I expect an answer to? That’d be just plain stupid, right?”

“Absolutely,” I responded, “unless that’s a rhetorical question as well. If it was, ignore my answer.”

“Are you being a smart ass, Gunderson?”

“Hmm, that must be a rhetorical question too. Allow me to ask a couple of questions to which I would like an answer. Why are you here? What is your mission?”

The Colonel looked around, spotted the drone and pointed. “Is that my drone?” he asked in a demanding tone.

“Yep.”

“Did you damage it?”

“Yep, I shot it. It’s probably reparable though.”

His jaw muscles tightened as he clenched his jaw. He stared at the drone a few more seconds before refocusing on me. “You said our lives are in danger, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“We are survivors, Colonel. We have no idea if your intentions are hostile or not. Therefore, we have snipers deployed. I can assure you the spot between your eyes is currently in at least one rifle scope.”

The Colonel made a slow three-sixty. “I don’t see anyone. I think you’re bullshittin’ me,” he said loudly and leaned his head forward. “Are you bullshittin’ me, son?”

I gave a hand signal and pointed at the asphalt. A rifle shot suddenly rang out and ricocheted off the asphalt behind his feet. Both soldiers jumped. It sounded like it originated from the Publix building. I forced myself not to look in that direction and instead continued staring at Coltrane.

“Goddamnit, Gunderson! That was a rhetorical question!” he turned around before I could say anything. The two soldiers had jumped up and started working the actions of the M60s. Colonel Coltrane held a hand up.

“Stand down you shit birds!” he yelled and began pacing. I grabbed my walkie talkie.

“Everyone stand by please,” I said in a much calmer voice than the Colonel’s.

The Colonel paced for approximately a minute as Janet and I watched him silently. The Major seemed to be used to the Colonel’s antics. He inhaled and spoke up.

“Our mission is to seek out survivors, test them, and relocate them to protective facilities.”

The Colonel stopped pacing for a moment and gestured at us. “They don’t need our protection, Major. I think that fact is pretty damned obvious.”

“What kind of tests?” Janet asked.

“We would like to take blood samples from everyone in your group. In layman’s terms, we’re going to see if you have the pathogen inside you, and more importantly, we’re testing to see if any of you have any type of antigen in your system.”

“Where are you guys based out of?” I asked.

“Our HQ is in Indian Head, Maryland.”

“Have you been to Fort Campbell?”

“Why do you ask?” the Colonel responded.

“We’ve been in contact with soldiers from there, although we’ve not heard from them in about a year now.”

“Never heard of them,” the Colonel replied.