Zombie Rules (Book 4): Destiny (42 page)

“That was in Birmingham, right?”

“Yeah, a working class suburb on the east side.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice. “My dad worked in a factory and mom worked at the hotel where I was working at. She got me the job.” She’d told me about them. Her mother had gotten infected and she never knew what happened to her father.

I looked back out of the window. It was a little bit sorrowful. I grew up here and it was all I’d known. Hell, with the exception of my involuntary stay at Fort Campbell, I’d never even left the state. The thoughts I had of venturing into something unknown wasn’t making me nervous though, for some reason it felt right.

“Yeah, we’ll be back one day.” I don’t know why I said it. It came out without forethought, but the moment I said it, I realized it was true.

Jorge initiated the procession by riding a wheelie. Captain Kitchens and Sammy were the first vehicle in the procession riding in the Stryker. They were followed by Earl, Sheila, and Raymond in the white van Julie and I had found way back when. Josue insisted on driving the work truck that Rick had brought home one evening. With it full of tools, it rattled loudly every time he hit a bump, but he’d fallen in love with that truck the first time he laid eyes on it. Maria was immediately behind him in their freshly waxed SUV. Sarah and Kyra were in the Humvee they’d brought from Oklahoma. We followed in the Volvo. Somehow, the dogs ended up with us and were being very rambunctious, despite Janet’s admonishments. Behind us were Cutter, Shooter and Kate in my Ford Raptor truck. I told Cutter in no uncertain terms I expected it to arrive in Mount Weather in one piece. Justin and Ruth brought up the rear in their Humvee.

All of the vehicles were packed, but not completely full. I had to explain to a couple of the slower-witted individuals, specifically the Butter-Pooter duo, that we had to keep room for anything we scavenged along the way or in case one or more vehicles broke down and we needed room to fit everything in.

A lone zombie was walking along the sidewalk as we turned onto Bell Road. The fact that he was on the sidewalk like a normal human instead of walking in the middle of the street seemed odd for some reason. He even stopped and watched as the convoy drove by him. His clothes were filthy, but I could see he had one of those Vietnam-era Boonie hats on his head, held in place by the strings, and he even had a small knapsack strapped on. As I watched him in the side-view mirror, Shooter hopped the curb and ran over him.

“Score one for Shooter!” Cutter cackled into the radio.

“Idiots,” Kelly muttered. He better not have damaged my truck, I thought.

I’d not been past Mount Juliet since the outbreak and probably looked like a little kid as I pressed my face close to the window, getting an eyeful of everything we passed. Mostly, there was nothing but weeds and that damned kudzu growing everywhere. It was even beginning to swallow up derelict vehicles that were parked a little too close to the shoulders. As we passed through Lebanon and got close to a small community known as Gordonsville, things became a little bit more macabre.

“Holy shit, are you guys seeing this?” Jorge asked over the radio. There were corpses hanging from the overpasses, one had almost a dozen hanging from it.

“Yeah,” Seth responded. “It was like this when we first came through, but I believe I’m seeing a couple of fresh ones.”

“We’re not hanging around to investigate,” Justin said. “Maintain our speed.” I voiced my agreement.

“It looks so eerie,” Kelly remarked. “And desolate. It’s sad.”

“Yeah,” I replied. I had no idea who was operating within the Lebanon area. Nobody from the rendezvous claimed to have lived around here.

“I think they’re making a point of telling anyone travelling along the interstate this isn’t a good area to stop and look around.”

“Like they’re staking out their territory,” Janet said. I nodded in agreement. I wanted to discuss it with the others, but was mindful of our agreed upon radio discipline. It didn’t stop Shooter from commenting about it though. Justin must have read my mind and spoke up, telling everyone to change to a sideband channel.

“Yeah, I’m seeing almost every vehicle salvaged too. We got some rough players around here somewhere, but we’ll talk about it later.”

And so we kept moving. Everyone was doing a good job of maintaining the proper intervals and I saw Ruth and Rachel in the side view mirror manning their respective M60s. Our trailer was almost fully loaded, and so every bump and pothole on the road seemed to be magnified. At the scheduled check in, Seth asked how the Volvo was holding up.

“A little rough, but no problems.”

“The roadways are like this all the way to Virginia, more or less. There is one bridge that’s too dangerous to drive over, but we found a detour. I hope you’ve brought extra tires, just in case.” I had. There were multiple sets in the trailer, along with some rims and a tire changer. I was confident the truck would hold up, but I wasn’t so certain with the trailer. We’d visited a couple of truck stops and found one that looked to be in better shape than the rest, but there could always be hidden issues.

“How’s it looking Jorge?” Seth asked as we left Wilson County behind us and entered the next county.

“Not too bad, man. Lots of potholes. I’m only seeing a zombie or two here and there. Nothing big.”

And so it went. Our goal was not to stop and kill zombies. Whenever we came upon one, we ignored them. Jorge expertly drove around them and if they were close enough, they’d try to grab at our passing vehicles. The result was they’d lose their balance and fall. Sometimes they ended up being run over. Our speed was slow but fairly steady. However, sometimes we had to slow to a crawl as we maneuvered through and around the permanent traffic jams. There were only a couple of times we had to use the makeshift bumper on the semi to force other vehicles out of the way; otherwise, it was a peaceful journey. But, leave it to the Butter-Pooter duo to break up the monotony.

“Time to take a crap,” Cutter blurted over the radio at about the same time we passed a barely readable sign informing motorists that they were entering Putnam County. Kelly glanced over at me.

“As crass as he is, I need to go too, and I bet the kids could use a break.” I looked back at Janet, who nodded. I grabbed the mike.

“Jorge, find a decent spot for the convoy to pull over.”

“You got it, man. There’s a clear spot about a quarter mile in front of you.” Justin keyed up the mike.

“Alright, everyone, you know the drill. Stay with your teams. When you’re done doing your business, take a peek in some of these abandoned cars, maybe we can find something, but don’t engage with any zombies if you can help it. We’ll move out in thirty minutes.”

Little Frederick wasn’t a problem. As soon as I got him out of the semi, he dropped his pants and relieved himself in front of everyone. Macie on the other hand was a bit fussy and didn’t want me to change out her pull-ups, so Janet took over.

Relieved of my fatherly duties, I grabbed Josue and the two of us walked back a hundred yards, checking out the abandoned vehicles. Sadly, all of them had been rummaged through; trunks had been popped open, gas tanks had been punctured and drained. A couple of cars were still occupied. Josue and I made quick work of them with knives, but there was nothing to be gained.

“No good,” Josue muttered.

“Yeah,” I agreed. We walked back to the main group and explained our findings.

“Is it like this all the way to Virginia?” I asked Seth.

“As far as the roads and obstacles, yes. We didn’t take the time to search vehicles though.” Our conversation was cut short by the sound of gunfire. All of us instinctively brought our weapons up and crouched, fully expecting an assault of some kind. Justin was the first to spot it.

“Those morons,” he growled before jogging over to the westbound side of the Interstate. No surprise, the source of the gunfire were the Butter-Pooter brothers, who were laughing gleefully at their antics. Seth and I followed and caught up with Justin at the moment he was confronting them.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he growled.

“We’re killing zombies,” Shooter retorted in a tone to suggest Justin had just asked him an incredibly stupid question. I walked over and took a look at their vanquished foes. Two zombies, definitely category ones, trapped in their car. Even with the advanced decomposition, it was obvious they were an elderly couple. I pointed at them and then glared at Cutter.

“They’re so rotten they couldn’t even get out of their seatbelts. Why in the world didn’t you two use your knives?” Cutter stared at me hard, but he couldn’t seem to find a response, logical or otherwise. It looked like he was about to concede the mistake, but Shooter spoke up.

“We’ll kill zombies any way we see fit,” he said defiantly. “You ain’t our boss.” I ignored him and continued staring at Cutter.

“Here’s a good example of what I’ve been trying to tell you; your brother is an idiot.” I gestured at him and his stupid smile. “We have a limited supply of ammo, but shit-for-brains here doesn’t think about things like that. He’d rather waste it on a couple of old rotten zombies who’d have to put their dentures in before they could even take a bite out of you.” I pointed toward the back seat and looked at the two brothers as if they’d just eaten a turd sandwich.

“For fuck’s sake, one of them had to use a walker to get around.”

Shooter stared at me loathingly, trying to think of a clever retort, but, like his brother, came up empty. Josue got the back door opened, retrieved the walker and handed it to Shooter, who stared at it as Josue patted him on the back.

“Nice prize,” he quipped and walked off.

“Alright everyone!” Justin yelled loudly. “We’ve made too much noise and wasted too much time, so let’s load up and get out of here!” At Justin’s gentle urging, as if a career Marine could possibly be gentle when urging people along, everyone hustled back to their respective vehicles. But, we only made it ten more miles before Justin called for us to stop again.

I jogged up to his Humvee just as he raised the hood. A cloud of smoke rushed out of the engine compartment, enveloping him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. Justin’s expression was a combination of frustration and anger as he crawled under the vehicle. After a moment, he crawled back out.

“Cracked exhaust manifold. It’s the same one I welded back when we got back from Atlanta.” He looked at me grimly. “I can’t weld it again, it’s too far gone.”

“Alright,” Seth said. “I’ll get a defensive perimeter formed while you transfer the gear to another vehicle.”

“I’ll take care of the fuel,” I said. Ruth started unloading supplies.

“Do you have a preference?” Justin asked Ruth.

“The van has the most room,” she said. He nodded gruffly, still angered about the Humvee.

We were on the road twenty minutes later but had only been travelling a short time when Cutter spoke.

“We’ve got some company, dudes and dudettes,” he said in his best California surfer dialect.

“Do you think you can remember the protocol and be more specific?” Justin growled, obviously still pissed about the Humvee.

“An SUV, four or five people in it. I’d say they’re looking for trouble.” I wanted to jump on the radio and yell at him to follow procedure but Justin beat me to it.

“Everyone stop in place,” he demanded. Before I could get out of the truck, Justin strode past, his jaw clenched and an M4 in hand. I reached back, grabbed a shotgun and quickly followed him. We met up at the Ford truck, where the brothers and the sisters were standing outside. Butter and Pooter were busy looking Ramboesque; the two sisters each had a handgun, but were holding them like they were sticks of dynamite with a lit fuse. As opposed to the brothers, they weren’t itching for any type of a confrontation.

“Why don’t you two link up with Kelly back at the semi and cover us?” I suggested. They didn’t argue.

“They’ve stopped,” Justin said. The dark green SUV, it looked like a Land Rover, had stopped a hundred yards back. Justin peered at them with his binoculars.

“The windows are tinted but it looks like there’s five of them. They’re just sitting there staring at us.” Seth had wheeled the Stryker around and parked beside the Ford. He stuck his head out of the hatch and peered at the SUV with his own set of binoculars.

“I’m going to try them on the CB,” I said, reached inside the Ford and switched to channel nineteen. After numerous attempts without a response, I tried channel nine with the same results.

“They’ve got a radio,” Justin said. “I can see the antenna.”

“It’s not shaping up to be a friendly encounter,” I surmised. I was about to suggest the old tactic of one of us walking toward them with a white rag when Seth spoke up.

“Well, I have a suggestion,” he said. We all looked at him expectantly. “You guys load up in the Stryker, and we’ll drive down there and see what they have to say. I seriously doubt they have the kind of firepower to disable this bad boy.”

It sounded like a logical idea. The five of us loaded up and Seth drove toward them, but they didn’t react like they wanted to meet us. When we got within fifty feet, the driver put their vehicle in reverse and backed away from us. Seth stopped and I once again tried to raise them on the CB. We tried it a couple of times with the same results. The last time they continued backing up until they were once again a hundred yards away from us.

“I’m getting tired of this bullshit,” Justin said.

“Me too,” I added. “They may be trying to draw the Stryker away from the convoy and their boys are going to ambush it.”

“Or they may just be fucking with us,” Cutter said.

“Whatever they’re doing, I don’t like it,” Justin said. “Alright, let’s get back to the convoy.”

“Yeah, the problem is, once we get underway, they’re going to keep following, I’m thinking,” I said. Seth looked at me thoughtfully.

“I believe I have a cure, if you gentlemen are agreeable.” We all looked at him questioningly. He pointed up.

“One round in their engine block with the fifty will put a stop to this nonsense.”

“Do it,” Justin responded immediately. I readily nodded. Seth aligned the crosshairs on the monitor, took aim, and popped off a single round. I took my fingers out of my ears and used Justin’s binoculars.

“Bull’s eye,” I said. The radio crackled to life.

“You sons of bitches!” one of them yelled irately. Cutter reached for the microphone, but I stopped him.

“Fuck ‘em,” I stated. “They had their chance to talk to us like peaceful folks.” I could see it in his eyes; he desperately wanted to give those men a bit of Cutter wisdom. I looked over at Justin, who at least wasn’t glaring anymore, and he shrugged indifferently.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said to Cutter. “Give ‘em your best.” Cutter grinned and grabbed the microphone.

“Don’t let us catch you little shit-birds following us again, or else.” Shooter stared at his brother with a disdainful look.

“Dude, that was lame,” he said.

“Nah,” I rejoined. “Short and to the point, I like it.”

We travelled until sunset, never encountering any other people or zombies, and stopped on the outskirts of Monterey.

It was a pleasant night out with a clear starlit sky, so Kelly and I opted to sleep on top of the eighteen-wheeler’s trailer.

“It’s so beautiful and peaceful,” Kelly said as we lay on our backs, staring at the heavens. “It’s hard to believe the world is so screwed up when looking at all of those stars.” I squeezed her hand in agreement, thinking of a night long ago when I was doing the same thing, lying on my back, staring at the stars with Julie and Macie. Kelly gasped and pointed.

“That’s the second shooting star I’ve seen in the past five minutes. Is that a sign?” I chuckled.