Zompoc Survivor: Inferno (25 page)

The next morning I stumbled down the stairs and into the workshop after a late breakfast. The sun was a lot higher in the sky than I’d hoped. Around me hammers pounded steel in a symphony of chaos being forged into order. I looked around for Vali, finally spotting him at the far end of the shop working at an improvised forge. He wasn’t alone, either. Amy was manning a hand cranked blower made from a leaf blower. The blower was attached to what looked like an oversized brake drum filled with glowing embers. As cool as the morning air was, the heat from the forge had them in as light of clothes as could be managed. Amy had her tank top on and jeans, while Vali only wore an apron, jeans, and heavy gloves.

“Good morning!” Vali said as he turned the tongs he was using to hold a piece of metal in the fire. “Though I’d say you were cutting it close.”

“I’m a night owl,” I said as I rubbed at the back of my neck. “At least I was. I dozed off while I was cleaning my Colt last night.”

“I think everyone’s going through that,” Vali said with his customary grin. “People aren’t used to the normal day and night cycle any more. Since Z day there hasn’t been as much artificial light as we’re used to…our bodies are resetting the clock back to Nature’s time.”

“You’re up early,” I said to Amy. She gave me a look of grudging tolerance before she spoke.

“Vali is letting me help him out to trade for one of his addle things,” she explained and held up a carved stick with a lip on the end. Vali grimaced slightly at the hatchet job Amy did on the term.

“Do you mean an atlatl?” I asked. She shrugged and went back to cranking the improvised blower, sending sparks up.

“She uses it better than she says it,” Vali said. He pulled a short length of steel from the fire and laid it on the anvil, then began to hammer it in a rhythm, first tapping the anvil, then bringing the hammer down on the blade. Sparks flew from the glowing metal with every blow. “I have a few fighting knives ready,” he said as he held up the piece he was working on to inspect it. Apparently satisfied, he dipped it into a bucket of water. “But I only had the one bush knife done. You’re getting my first one from this shop. Amy, could you got ask Harold for some leather to wrap the handle on this ?” With a nod, Amy darted off.

“I really do appreciate you doing this,” I said. He made a dismissive sound and untied the apron.

“Pete and Devira told me what you traded for this stuff. Personally, I think you’re cheating yourself. But while she’s gone, she asked me to make her a sword like yours. I’ve seen your blade, and I don’t have what I need to make something like that. But we do have some spring steel. I could probably make something for her from that in a couple of days for her to start training with.”

“Would it kill zombies?” I asked.

“Hell, yeah. I don’t make anything that isn’t battle or field ready. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll be pretty well balanced and it’ll bust heads. So I have your okay to make it, right?” I nodded.

“Make the grip a little long so she can use both hands if she needs to,” I said. The pitter-patter of teenage feet came from behind me, though it sounded more like a squad of Marines.

“Here you go,” Amy said as she trotted up and handed over a roll of black leather.

“Vali, I’m stealing your apprentice,” I said. He nodded and grinned at me over a thumbs up.

“Don’t you have sword practice or something?” Amy asked.

“Yes, and so do you,” I told her. I could tell from her grin that my respite of silence was over.

Journal
of Maya Weiss

Monday, October 21, 2013

Dave and Amy are okay! Thank the gods, they’re still alive! So much to do, so far to go, but all I can think about is the fact that my little girl and the man I love are safe. Major Lynch couldn’t believe it, but Porsche was quick to set the man straight. I hope it wasn’t supposed to be a big secret or anything. Dave never accused me of being subtle. I was kind of loud after we talked, and I’m sure everyone with us knows. But now we have a mission, and I’ll have them both in my arms again soon.

We leave Ft. Riley today. The coordinates Dave gave me are near Scotts Bluff, Nebraska. If we’re lucky, we’ll be there tomorrow. Tanks are topped up, guns are loaded, and we have twenty more people than we started with. But we leave ten graves behind. No matter how the math works out, I don’t like those numbers. But I’m not a soldier. There is no such thing as ‘acceptable losses’ to me. Lynch says that’s why the military answers to civilian authority. But what he said after that scared me the most.

“Why do you think I asked you to stick around?”

Chapter
13

Reap the Whirlwind…

~ Strategy is about making choices, trade-offs; it’s about deliberately choosing to be different. ~ Michael Porter

“I hope you’re finished pissing people off,” Hernandez said as we covered the last few yards to the Stryker. “I don’t want to get this close to the New Eden compound again. And we’re out of spray paint.”

“I wanted to make sure he saw it,” I said as we jogged along. We moved as quietly as we could in the darkness, our way shown to us in the green landscape of the NVGs on our helmets.

“He’s gonna have a hard time missing it.” In spite of herself, she laughed.

“You think it was too much?” I asked.

“A little, but that’s the point, isn’t it?” she asked as we slowed to a stop in front of the vehicle. Kaplan looked down at us over the the barrel of his MP5. In the eerie glow of the firelight behind him, he looked like some dark sentinel that belonged on a recruiting poster. The gun’s barrel came up and he pointed it away from us. Hernandez climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving me to crawl in through the rear hatch. I grabbed the crew headset as I pulled the hatch closed, then stopped as I heard the low rumble of a diesel engine from behind us.

“Kaplan, on our six,” I said while I popped the top hatch on the vehicle’s left side. I could hear the weapon mount turning behind me to bring the vehicle’s salvaged M2 machine gun to bear as I brought my rifle up. A Humvee drew up behind us, and I could see Willie’s banner flutter as it slowed to a stop. Willie got out of the passenger seat and stood beside the vehicle.

“Vivat the Blackstar,” he said just loud enough to be heard from a few feet away.

“Hurrah for Calontir and Ansteorra,” I completed the first half of the chorus to ‘Bare is the Brotherless Back,’ one of the songs we’d both sung at a bardic circle at Estrella Wars. Mistress Aeruin ni Hearain’s song of brotherhood in war was the perfect challenge and countersign, since none of the Prophet’s people had been in the SCA to ever hear it. “What’s up?”

“Shit just got serious. One of our lookouts just spotted a ton of zombies downtown, and they’re all headed toward the West Bottoms.”

“You’re not ready to go,” I said with a sinking feeling in my gut.

“We’re just not finished packing,” Willie said. “Pete and Devira have everyone loading the train up now, but they don’t think they’ll be done by the time they get there unless we can slow them down somehow. My team is setting up a choke point on the 12
th
Street bridge where it crosses over 35.”

“You’ll be slaughtered,” Kaplan said. “Even with your tactics, there’s just too many of them to stop.”

“He’s right. I have another idea. Set up near the base of the bridge, at the Guest House. I bet he thinks that’s where Heartland is because that’s where he felt me these past few days. I’ll take care of slowing them down. You just be ready to bug out when the time comes.”

“We’re not going to leave until our families are safely away.”

“Trust me, Willie,” I said. “You know I never leave anything to chance. Head back with Kaplan and Hernandez. I need to borrow the Humvee.” Willie nodded and turned back to the Humvee as I dropped back down into the Stryker. Kaplan dropped down from the commander’s hatch and was waiting for me when I went to grab my pack.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

“I figured I’d reap the fruits of our labors from the past few days.” I smiled as I slung the pack with the Ruger in it and my other gear. “Just make sure Amy is on that train when you leave, okay?” I asked.

“You know I will. I just hope we’re right about what he’ll do if he gets a shot at you.” I nodded and went to the rear hatch. Willie was waiting outside for me, and we clasped each other’s forearm in a warriors’ handshake, both of us knowing that it was going to be a while before we were going to see each other again. Neither of us said anything, just like every other farewell we’d made, and we turned away after a moment.

Once I was in the Humvee, I sat in silence and waited. I figured it would take the Stryker about an hour to make it back to the Guest House. My mind ran back over the past few days, and I made a list of all the things that could have gone wrong with my otherwise brilliant Plan A that had put us hip deep in Plan B. I hadn’t expected anyone to move on Heartland this soon. Everything we’d put out there had kept our departure time deliberately vague and long term sounding. All I could think of was that the Necromancer had a timetable of his own. It was more than a little disturbing to realize that the scary undead monster had his own idea of how things should go. Damn it, zombies weren’t allowed to have diabolical plots.

Almost an hour later I heard the first shots from the direction of the West Bottoms. It was time to go face the villain in his lair. I started the Humvee and pulled out onto the road, swerving slightly to run down a zombie in a short white dress crawling along with both ankles broken in high heels. The Crown Plaza glowed before me as I got closer, with the occasional light shining in the Westwind Hotel and along the top of the wall. Firelight flickered against the inside walls that I could see from outside the main gate area. I pulled the NVGs up to get a better idea of exactly how well lit the area was as I got closer and saw that the men on the walls were still looking inward. Evidently zombies outside the wall weren’t their main concern. It seemed like a good time to remind them that there were smarter things out in the dark then shambling undead. I switched the SINCGARs on and turned to the frequency we’d been hearing his men using for the past couple of days.

“Boo,” I said into the mic. The airwaves went wild as people alternately demanded to know who had just said that and denied that it had been them. “You know who this is,” I said after a few moments of chaos. “Your boss has been talking pretty big the past few days. Get him on the line.”

“Well, if it isn’t the worm himself,” Hall sneered over the air a few minutes later.

“Are you close to a window?” I asked, ignoring the barb. “Because you might want to take a look outside your front door.” I switched the Humvee’s headlights on. I had parked at an angle so that the cone of light fell on what Hernandez and I had painted earlier.

DAVE IS HERE!!

On the makeshift wall, men turned around, and I could hear voices calling out.

“You son of a bitch!” Hall hissed. “Damn it, shoot him!” The crack of gunfire sounded around me, but I didn’t hear anything hit the truck. I popped the overhead hatch and turned the M240 toward the wall. Had it been anyone else, I would have felt a little bad about firing on fellow survivors, but after the other day, I knew his black shirted bastards had blood on their hands. I pulled the trigger and sent a short burst of tracer rounds toward one of the gunmen on the wall. His arms flailed as he fell back out of sight, and the others scrambled for cover. The next burst went lower, a long sweep from left to right that punched holes in the overturned trailers and reminded them that what they thought was cover was really just concealment. Light showed through the bullet holes, and I heard more yelling from inside the compound. Before they could get their shit together, I brought the barrel up and raked the last few rounds through the glass walkway over the wall. Shards rained down as the machinegun ran dry, and I dropped down into the Humvee and pulled the hatch closed behind me.

“So, here’s the deal,” I said when I grabbed the mic. “Followers of the man who calls himself Daniel. Your so called Prophet claims the protection of God, but he hasn’t set foot outside your walls since I escaped. He claims the blessing of God…but you haven’t been able to find me since I escaped. He talks about me every night from behind your guns while I make you look like the brainwashed idiots you are. Well, here I am. If you want me, this is your chance. Do you hear me
Prophet
?” I paused for a second. “I’m the one God is protecting. You can’t touch me.” Something smacked against one of the windows, and the armored glass starred around the point of impact.

“I swear, I’m gonna kill you myself,” Hall snarled.

“You’re going to have to come out here to do it,” I said. “Catch me if you can.” Off to my left I saw headlights emerging from the parking garage we’d escaped from, so I put the Humvee in gear and took it into a broad turn that pointed me back the way I came. Gunfire sounded behind me, and I heard the crack of bullets hitting the up-armored vehicle’s thick glass and body. The streets were empty, and I pressed down on the accelerator. The speedometer climbed up to forty miles an hour, then fifty as I tore down the straightaway. Behind me, I could see at least five sets of headlights, and I would have bet that he had every man and every vehicle he could find on the road and coming after me. I slowed to make a left at the first cross street, then put my foot to the floor and tried to will more speed out of the heavy vehicle. I stopped counting the headlights coming around the corner around ten, and right about the time one of the smaller trucks pulled up at my rear. It slid over to my right, then swerved and drove it’s front fender into my rear quarter panel in a textbook police maneuver. The little truck just didn’t have the weight to do a full on PIT maneuver at these speeds against a three ton Humvee.  They fishtailed a little then steadied, and I slowed down a fraction as the truck behind me lined up to try again. I waited until he started to speed up again, then hit the accelerator and drifted left, then braked again to bring the other truck out of position for the takeout move. Just as the other vehicle was trying to recover, I swerved back to the right and let the up-armored Humvee’s three ton plus weight do the talking for me. They swerved a little, then stopped when they hit a telephone pole. Another truck pulled up behind me, and I swerved to keep it in my six, so they tried ramming my rear bumper instead. I slammed on the brakes when they started to speed up again and felt two impacts, the first when they hit me and the second when the truck behind them slammed into them.

I floored it again and sped through an intersection. The road narrowed and funneled the New Eden vehicles into a narrow line. Brick buildings and chain link fence blurred by on either side as I hit a gentle incline, then the road widened as I went under an overpass. Behind me, my pursuers spread out, trying to take advantage of the wider space, then were forced back onto the one lane residential street. The off ramp went by on my right, and I skidded through a right turn onto the next street. Metal and glass crunched when I hit an abandoned car, then I scraped past it and was moving down the same street we had come up earlier that night. All too soon, my headlights were reflected by the yellow arrows directing me to turn left and follow the curve of the street, but I pulled the steering wheel to the right instead. I lost the driver’s side mirror against a telephone pole that I’d misjudged the distance on, then I mowed down the flimsy chain link fence a few yards away.

The Humvee bounced down the grassy slope, and I prayed I had judged my turn right. The headlights bounced over the landscape too much to be sure of the ground in front of me, but suddenly I was on asphalt again and yanking the steering wheel hard to the left to avoid any more cross country driving. One of the pairs of headlights swerved to cut me off, then discovered why I’d gone right instead of straight or left when the truck flew off the four foot ledge set into the otherwise smooth hillside. It dropped nose first, and I cut right to avoid it. A hundred yards later, I was speeding down the onramp of US 70, going against the frozen traffic. On the eastbound side traffic was practically non-existent since no one wanted to be headed into Kansas City. I opened her up and hit fifty five. More and more of the Prophet’s people started to catch up to me on the straightaway, and I realized there were still plenty of them further back. Depending on how well I pulled this off, I was either going to fail spectacularly or do a lot better than I had hoped. I reached for the radio.

“Willie, I’m on my way,” I said. “When I get there, you and your team know what to do.”

“Under protest, brother,” Willie said. “This isn’t the way we planned this.”

“As long as you took care of your end of things, I’m good. You just do what you need to.”

“The door’s open, and your ride is waiting. Getting there is up to you.”

Two trucks pulled out in front of me and swerved to box me in, so I jinked left and hit the onramp going the wrong way at fifty five. As I sped down the ramp, I drifted to my right, and two of the trucks took advantage of the opening to pull up on my left, maybe thinking they were going to pen me in. As soon as I hit the bottom of the ramp, I spun the wheel right, and bounced over the curb, across the browning grass and onto Liberty Street. One of them tried to make the turn on the asphalt and I watched its lights tilt as it tipped onto two wheels until the driver slowed down enough to get all four tires back on the ground. Again, more and more lights fell in behind me. The street angled right, and I sped up going into the gentle curve that eased back to the left under the highway. Then the ruddy glow of fire against the smoky sky appeared to my right for a heartbeat, followed by more brick.

Up ahead, I could see the glowing spots of light from the lanterns on the Guest House’ roof on the right. The Necromancer stood on the middle of the road, looking up at whoever was talking to him. When my headlights fell on him he turned toward me and smiled. He opened his arms wide and turned to face me head on as I hit the accelerator. He grew larger and larger in the front windshield until the front grill hit him in the chest and he folded over the hood. I hit the brakes and watched him fly off the front and go tumbling into the darkness. The Humvee came to a stop and I looked back over my shoulder. The headlights had spread out behind me and came to a stop as well.