What Zombies Fear: The Maxists
Date: 2014-01-16 00:06:54+00:00
Keywords: Zombies; Horror; Fiction
Description: This is the second book in the "What Zombies Fear" series. Victor Tookes and his family are still struggling to survive after a parasite that turns people into zombies wipes out civilization. After reaching the relative safety of the family home in Virginia, the danger only intensifies. Zombies still stalk their every move but now Victor and his friends have another threat to deal with - a rogue military unit whose commander wants Victor's son. When Max is kidnapped, Victor goes on the warpath, moving mountains and destroying everything that stands between him and his son. Victor, John, Leo, a
Publisher: Permuted Press

What Zombies Fear:

The Maxists
by

Kirk Allmond

Kindle Edition

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Kirk Allmond on Kindle

What Zombies Fear:

The Maxists

Copyright © 2011 by Kirk Allmond

Kindle Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Books in the What Zombies Fear Series

What Zombies Fear: A Father’s Quest
What Zombies Fear: The Maxists
What Zombies Fear: The Gathering
(February 2012)

Be sure to check www.whatzombiesfear.com for the latest book in progress!

I’d like to dedicate this book to all my friends who have helped me along the way. There are way too many of you to name everyone, I’d need an entire book just for that.

Specifically, I’d like to dedicate this book to my wife, who has never let me live down the fact that I killed her off in the first book. I love you, and hope you don’t really die in the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

To my dear friend and Editor Laura Bretz thank you for all of your hard work on this book. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for your support during the process, and your friendship.

To John, thank you for your continued help, publicity, marketing, and all around friendship. You’re the best, mate.

To Tina, You’re the reason I started writing, and you continue to inspire me to write.

Prologue

The zombies came in the spring of 2011. In one day a wave of stumbling, rotting, fetid corpses spread over the earth, ending life as we knew it. Some of them were smart, some of them could pass for human and some of them were super human.

I’ve seen zombies that could fly, teleport over short distances, run with incredible speed, zombies that could lift thousands of pounds and even zombies that could read the intentions of humans. They didn’t all have the same powers, there seemed to be a hierarchy among them. The more powerful the zombie, the higher it was in their pecking order.

My name is Victor Tookes. I’ve spent the last 12 years of interrogating every smart zombie we can catch, trying to piece together what happened on that day. Here’s what I know: the infection started on a small research ship outside of Baltimore, Maryland. An asteroid landed in the ocean and the US government had sent a group of deep sea reclamation experts to retrieve it. That asteroid had contained trillions of microscopic parasites; my son Max calls them “bugs”. Those parasites work in groups to take over the brain of the host, which kills off all remnants of the original occupant of that body and gives the parasite full control the body.

I also know that this is not the first time these parasites have tried to take over the human race. About 30,000 years ago, they came for the first time. A few of us humans developed immunity to them and we were eventually able to wipe out the infection. Those ancient humans were genetically mutated by the parasites, but were unable to be taken over or controlled. My family is descended from those original humans and we carry that immunity. Leo and John also carry the gene that makes them able to defeat parasites that invade them. If those few of us who are immune survive the infection process, which invariably involves being bitten by a zombie, those of us with immunity sometimes gain special abilities. I believe, although I don’t know this for sure, that the parasites reconnect pathways in our brains to areas that our species doesn’t normally have access to. I also believe that the stronger the infection or the more parasites an immune person receives, the more of those pathways are reconnected before our bodies kill off the bugs. I don’t know if the corpses of the parasites themselves act as the pathways, or if they just ‘turn those areas on’ before they die, but I hope it’s the latter. I don’t particularly like the thought of parasitic corpses living in my brain. What I don’t know is why they want my son Max so badly, but I will find out.

Everyone on my ‘team’ has some special abilities. John never misses. Whether its thrown, shot, fired, catapulted, lobbed or any other manner of projectile weapon, I’ve never seen him miss. One time I watched him kill a zombie with a rock from 200 feet away and he routinely takes the wings off flies with stones. I guess it’s more of a challenge than just killing them. Maybe he’s trying to invent a whole new race of flightless flies.

My brother Marshall is astoundingly strong and never gets tired. I’ve seen him pick up a car and throw it at a zombie like it was a baseball. When we’re fighting zombies, he favors twenty lb sledge hammers and almost always has a pair of them with him, strapped in an X on his back. Woe unto the zed that comes into Marshall’s circle of death, for their un-death shall be ended quickly and violently. Despite his huge size, standing at almost seven feet tall, Marshall might be the nicest guy left on the planet. Unless you cross him; forty pounds of hardened steel on the end of a pair of hickory shafts will give you an extreme headache.

Leo is fast. She can move faster than the human eye can follow and even claims, although I’ve never seen it, to be able to outrun a bullet. Everything about her is fast; she heals extreme wounds in hours and minor ones in seconds. She is the deadliest hand to hand fighter I’ve ever seen. She moves like flowing water, gracefully ending the miserable existence of anything that dares to stand in her way.

My name is Victor Tookes. I suppose I’m the leader of this community of around 350 people, probably because I can read people. I see colorful auras surrounding them. Those colors give me clues about the mood or intentions of the person. I can see those colors from very far off, farther than my normal vision would allow, sometimes as much as a hundred miles. I’m the only one I know who can definitively tell a living person from a smart zombie, because zombies don’t have an aura. I can also see the effects of my decisions and the decisions of others. If I’m thinking of two possibilities, I can literally watch the outcome of those decisions. I can follow decision trees infinitely or at least several years into the future, but every time I look at the next step, the number of possibilities is exponentially more complex. Missing one small piece of information can lead to disastrous results, so in actuality I’m seldom able to go more than two or three decisions forward with any reliability.

And then there is my son Max. Max was three and a half years old at the time of the outbreak. Or invasion, however you choose to look at it. He has abilities that none of us can fully comprehend and he’s never been able to explain them. He can sense zombies from vast distances. He can hide our presence from them. He can kill zombies with a thought. That ability is the conundrum of my life. You would think it would be easy to parade a huge group of zombies in front of him and ask him to kill them. It would be easy to ask him where they are and how many of them there are. But as a father, my goal is to protect him, to shelter him and to provide a safe place for him to be an innocent child. I would die myself before asking him to kill a horde of zombies. It is true that he is the one that ended the battle on our doorstep, but as far as he was concerned, he was just saving me.

No one else knows it was Max that killed all those zombies. Without being able to see auras the way I can, they couldn’t see that wave of Max’s energy killed every parasite it encountered, they just know that the zombies that were eating me flew off of me and every other zombie within two miles fell down, never to move again. I have managed to convince them that since I was busy being eaten alive at the time and have no idea how or what I did.

Shortly after we arrived at my family’s farm near Culpeper Virginia, a massive horde of zombies attacked us. All told, we killed 12,653 zombies that day. We kept count to honor them, the people that they were before. We kept count to remember who we are and what we’re doing this for. We used pickups and tractors to dig a massive pit in the middle of the field where we’d killed the largest part of them. We piled the bodies in that pit and used the last of our diesel to light it. It takes a lot of fuel and a lot of time to burn human bodies. We used four full trees over six days to fully cremate the dead. Many of the survivors in our camp knew these people. It was a very hard time.

The days immediately after that fight were both a celebration of our victory over the horde and a period of mourning for the dead, for the friends and family members who were taken from us, perverted to serve as mindless rotting instruments of death.

Chapter 1
Unwelcome Visitor

The morning after the fight, we received a visit from Colonel Joshua Frye. He showed up that morning in force, rolling with six military Humvees, two of which had very intimidating .50 caliber cannons mounted in an armored gunner’s turret on the roof. He had 12 soldiers with him and they were armed for conflict. Four of them were flanking Frye, lined up in an arc behind him, the four were in the driver’s seat of their Humvees and the last two standing up in the gunner’s turrets of those two desert sand colored trucks.

The gate guard radioed up to the house to let us know something was coming down the road. There was never any traffic on the road these days, so we all got up from the breakfast table and headed down to the end of the driveway. By the time I got down to the front gates with John and Marshall, Frye was standing at the gate with his men behind him. It did not feel like a friendly visit. Leo had beaten us down there by several minutes.

“Colonel Frye, you look, surprised to see us.” I said, noting the flashes of yellow in his aura.

“Not at all, I’m surprised at the mess though. What are you hiding in there? How did you kill that many zombies?” His tone reminded me of law enforcement. It carried an expectation of answer. These days, the law was what you could defend. This was my land and these were my people. His tone was the final straw in a long series of short straws.

I opened the gate down at the end of the half-mile driveway and stepped out in front of Frye. He was a head taller than me, easily six and a half feet tall. I had considered all of my options on where to punch him. Walking through the gate, shadows shot out of me, each one landing a blow. The gut punch ended with me breaking a bone in my hand, hitting body armor with a bare fist is never a good idea. The shot to the nose was the least damaging to me and was the option I chose. It ended with him shouldering the rifle hanging from his chest rig. The shadow fist that punched him in the nose solidified, shortly before my flesh and bone fist connected with his nose.

I felt a satisfying crunch as my middle knuckle broke the cartilage in the bridge of his nose. Frye staggered back a couple of steps and drew his weapon, blood running down his face and dripping off his chin. I knew he was going to draw down on me. Immediately after hitting him I stepped inside his range and put my favorite pistol, my Sig Saur .40 caliber, to his head. John and Marshall both shouldered weapons. John had an H&K short barreled fully automatic carbine pointed at the farthest man in a gun turret and Marshall sighted down the barrel of a 12 gauge shotgun at the other. Those two men operating huge chain guns were clearly the largest threat. At my first move towards Frye, his men shouldered their weapons, standard combat issue M-16’s.

“Colonel Frye,” I said, ice running through my voice. “You have not been honest with me. You have tried to play me from the minute you found out there were survivors here. You have acted magnanimous. You acted like you wanted to help, but you with held vital intelligence until it suited your own purpose. I will not allow you to continue to be a threat to me or my family.”

“Victor, I did not…” He started. The red slashes in his aura already indicating that he was going to lie to me.

“Frye. I don’t know what you’re about to say, but it’s a lie. I strongly advise you against testing me. You will lose that test, I promise you that.”

“Mr. Tookes, We did…”

“Josh.” I said as I pulled the hammer back on my pistol. It was an unnecessary step in a double action pistol, but significant in its message. “Josh, this is your last chance. If John sees my finger even quiver on this trigger, all of your men will die and we will gain several nice rifles, some functional body armor and six well outfitted Humvees. There really is no drawback to this for me.”

Frye stood up straight. “This conversation is over.” He said flatly as he started walking back to his truck.

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me, Frye. To all you men,” I said gesturing to the men in the trucks. “You are following a man who has lied to me, who has endangered my family and the lives of everyone living here. You are not welcome on my property as long as you follow him.” I added a pause, letting the idea of not following him sink in.

“If you continue to work towards the Colonel’s interests, you are not welcome to within one mile of my property line. I claim the full area within six miles of where we stand. If I catch you within seven miles of this house neither I nor my men will not hesitate.”

Frye was the only one who spoke. “Tookes, you do not have domain, or the right to claim that much land.”

“Frye, you keep operating under the assumption that the United States Government still exists, or that you have some authority because you’re wearing a uniform. I can claim that land because I can defend that land. I can claim it because that’s the amount of land required to feed the number of people in my care and I can claim it because there’s nothing you and your twelve soldiers can do about it.”

With that, Frye got in his truck and they all drove off, bouncing and hopping over the piles of rotten zombie corpses lying in the road. Each time a tire crossed a new zombie; they burst open like over-full bags of meat, exploding gore and bits of rotten flesh all over the trucks. The popping sound was enough to turn my stomach and the smell of fetid corpse was overwhelming. We needed to get this mess cleaned up quickly.

“Holy shit Tookes!” said John. “You really pissed him off this time. What was all that cock swinging about?”

“Every word he’s ever said to me was a lie or a manipulation. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m tired of playing the game by his rules. I thought I’d try my hand at changing the game.”

“We need to have a staff meeting,” I said, “We’re low on supplies. We need ammunition, fuel and food and I have some ideas.”

Chapter 2
Fuel

Bookbinder met us coming down the drive way when we were halfway up the hill. We filled him in on the encounter with Frye while we walked up to the house.

“Sir, may I speak freely?”

“Of course you can, you can always speak freely around me Charlie,” I said.

“I’m not sure that was a good idea, he represents a significant asset to us, if we are allies.” It was odd for Charlie to question me. I liked that he was feeling free to do so, but it was very out of character for him.

“Charlie. He has to have known about that horde for days. We know he’s been watching this place. I know he’s been studying us. Hell, he watched me at the high school, listened to our radio conversation and didn’t lift a finger to help.”

I pulled a notebook and pen out of my shirt pocket and jotted down some ideas as I filled the others in on what we needed.

“We’re low on every type of fuel. In Culpeper there’s a propane distribution plant. It’s the priority, we need propane today. We just used up the last of our diesel, but we don’t technically need diesel for a couple of days. Least important of the top priorities, we’re going to need some gasoline,” I said.

“That doesn’t seem impossible,” said Charlie.

“Oh, there’s always more,” I said. “After we fill up all the fuel tanks, then we head across town.”

Charlie started writing notes on his own pad as I continued, “On the north side of Culpeper there is a tractor trailer repair facility. It must be a hundred thousand square feet, you can’t miss it. It’s a gigantic steel building with somewhere around fifteen repair bays. That building is going to be full of tools and supplies. I know for a fact they have a tow truck with tools to do roadside repairs on big rigs. Then, if they can’t fix them on the road they can tow them back to the shop. I’m pretty sure there we can find supplies to fix the tires of the plow rig down on the highway. It’s got at least four blown tires.”

“Do we really want to fix that one? We could just get a new one,” said Marshall.

“It seems easier to strip the wheels off another truck and I like that one. I’d like to beef it up a little, build some protection for the tires and driver, but that truck is already halfway there. Seems silly to start over and have to source a new plow and new frame.”

“Got it. Vic likes the old beat up truck that almost got him killed,” Marshall said.

Ignoring that last barb, I continued, “The third objective is to secure any medical equipment and supplies we can find. I’m not ready to go to the hospital yet, but there is a plastic surgery center in town and several drug stores. We’re going to need antibiotics and pain meds, but we’re also going to need cough syrup, aspirin, band aids, splints and casts. I want to clean one of those places out too.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of competition for places like that from groups of survivors, mate,” said John. “Do we know if there are any other groups, besides Frye?”

“I don’t know about any other groups, but I’d assume there are. Maybe at some point we leave a message somewhere with how to contact us,” said Leo.

“That’s a good idea Leo. Maybe we could leave a radio and a note behind or something. If you need medical attention, go to the top of Cedar Mountain and broadcast at noon on channel twelve,” or something like that.”

“I think it’s something to consider,” she replied.

“Charlie,” I continued. “Regarding the medical equipment I’d like you to take charge of delegating to fire teams as you see fit. I’d like you to personally oversee the big rig repair facility, while the four of us go after the propane. The propane facility is half a mile from a minimum security prison; I’m worried about the number of zombies that could be in that facility. Without power holding the doors shut, it wouldn’t be too hard to get out of there. Plus securing that propane facility means we’ll be able to maintain ourselves throughout the winter, while we refit the property with wood stoves and repair the fireplaces. Two hundred years of progress since this house was built and we’re going back to the beginning.”

Charlie delegated M3; Leon Scott, Adam Jacobsen, Scott Humphries, Mark Shoenfeld and Gary Burbank to the CVS and M5; Shannon Johnson, Gordon Baker andrew Gallard, John Grieco, Kenneth Leuty to the plastic surgery center. M5 was to take the f350 crew cab dually and M3 was assigned a pair of Ford Explorers.

“Charlie, tell me about Leon Scott and the two guys leading M5” I asked, wanting to get to know the men a little bit.

“Leon is average height, about 5’10”. He’s strong and in good physical shape. He has five years active military and two years in the reserves. He’s been training his team pretty hard, they’re really coming together. I need them to get some field experience. The CVS should be relatively free of undead and there are several ways in and out of the parking lot.”

“Good call there, Charlie. That’s why you’re a great leader,” I said.

“Shannon Johnson is young; he was almost finished at the academy to be a state trooper when all this went down. He knows his way around a weapon and is a good, smart kid. I put Gordon Baker with him because Baker has 32 years experience as a law enforcement officer. He was a sergeant in the state police, when he retired. Anyone with that much time in law enforcement that’s only a sergeant either did something crooked or got in some sort of trouble.”

“Can we trust baker? Do we trust someone with a crooked past?” I asked.

“He’s a good man, but I think Shannon is the one to be making quick decisions. Baker is there to offer guidance and temper him. They also need some operational experience. Baker is in good shape and can still outrun half the people here, so he’s got some discipline.”

“How long until the fire teams are ready to roll?” Marshall asked.

“They’re gearing up now. They were on rotation to go out house clearing today. If we didn’t have any other orders, we were going by standing orders, secure useful items, keep food coming in, keep training.”

“Ok, how about your team? We’re going to be spread out throughout the town. I have a special assignment for your team.”

“We can be ready in five minutes, Sir, anytime, anywhere. What are your orders?”

“I want you and your men to check out the State Police Barracks. This is a recon mission only, do not engage any hostiles, enter only if the area is clear and secure. I want their armory, I want their communications equipment, the FM transmitter on their roof plus all the radios in their cars, I want vests and automatic weapons and I want their SWAT truck. Your secondary mission is to provide backup to m3 or m5 as quickly as possible.” I said

“As I see it,” I continued, changing the topic. “We have at least two major players in the area. I’m not certain about Frye; he could be up to anything, so I’m looking for any information on him, what he’s doing, where he’s going and how many people he has.”

Bookbinder asked “Do you think he’d attack us?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure we have anything he needs and I don’t think he’s bloodthirsty, just slightly underhanded. I’m pretty certain I pissed him off though.”

“You have a knack for that, ya dink,” said John with a grin.

“Secondly, I believe a smart zombie had to have organized that huge horde of walkers we killed. If there is, he’s going to be pissed,” I said.

“Once again,” started John.

I cut him off, before he could call me a ‘dink’ or a ‘drongo’ again. I think a ‘drongo’ is worse than a ‘dink,’ but I still haven’t quite nailed it down. “It’s now 9:30, the four of us will be ready to roll in an hour. I’d like for you, M1, M3 and M5 to roll before 10:00, so in case any of you need backup we can swing by on our way in,” I said to a nodding Charlie. “Stay in radio contact and try to conserve ammo. We’re getting low again unless you score something pretty major at the state police barracks, we need to stay fast and stay quiet, escaping attention.”

Charlie and I stood up and the rest of the table followed. We shook hands and Charlie left quickly with the mission notes we’d scribbled. He was a good man, I’m not sure I could handle all the details that he deals with.

The four of us left to go gather our gear. Bookbinder had his teams on constant alert. We were slightly more lax up here in the main house, something we should probably learn from him. It took me five minutes just to find clean socks. Soon after that I was geared up and ready. It took just over fifteen minutes. I rationalized that by telling myself if life depended on speed, I could wear dirty socks.

Since I had a few minutes, I used a few to play with Max, it was likely that I wouldn’t see him until after bedtime and I cherished my Max time. Today we worked on a puzzle with characters from the movie Cars and then played with his Buzz Lightyear and Woody action figures.

“Daddy, I love you. If you see the army man again today, you shouldn’t talk to him. He’s very mad. Why’s he so mad?”

“Well, he wasn’t honest with me, he lied. I believe he tried to hurt me, so I punched him in the nose,” I said plainly.

“Daddy, we don’t hit friends, even mean friends,” scolded Max, his face very serious.

“I know buddy. I made a bad decision; it wasn’t the right thing to do.” I said. “I have to go to work now and get some propane so Gramma can cook supper. I’ll be back tonight, but it won’t be until after your bedtime.

“Ok, but watch out for the badguys, they’re looking for us.”

“Max, can you tell me how you hide us? Can you tell me how to hide myself?”

“Sure, Daddy, it’s easy. You just turn your colors off and they’ll think you’re one of them.”

“Oh, Ok.” I replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll be home tonight while you’re asleep Ok Maxmonster?”

“Ok, I love you.” Max said, giving me a huge hug.

The four of us were pretty intimidating figures walking out of the house together at about twenty minutes after ten in the morning. John bristled with guns; I think he added another gun to his vest every day. Leo with her short swords crossed over her shoulders and batons at the small of her back. Marshall carried his pair of sledge hammers with the heads riding on his shoulders, the shortened handles down his back in an X under his pack and a shotgun sticking out of the top of his pack. I swear he got physically bigger when he got infected, or more specifically as his body fought off the infection. He was always tall, at about six four when we were younger, but I think he was close to seven feet now. His pants were all too short, I think that’s why he’d cut them all off into shorts.

I tried my best to fit in, my abilities were less useful in combat, so it was hard for me to feel quite as badass as my companions must. I carried my Sig in a thigh holster I took off a zombie at the high school and Sammie, my trusty 30.06 scoped hunting rifle, strapped to my back. Somehow, somewhere John had found me a bunch of twelve round magazines for it. At the last minute I stuck a hatchet in my pack, handle up. I didn’t have a go-to hand to hand weapon, but I felt like I should have something. We loaded up in my favorite yellow Jeep Wrangler and headed for town, the huge 36 inch super swampers humming as we drove down the road.

We parked the Jeep about half a mile from the propane depot. It had two 250,000 gallon tanks behind the building. The whole property was surrounded by an eight foot high chain link fence topped with another two feet of razor wire.

We all had our usual packs on, but by now we were in good enough shape to jog the distance without too much trouble. I’d suggested that we carry bolt cutters, but from the look Marshall gave me I let the subject drop.

When we got to the propane depot, Leo offered to run a quick circuit around the perimeter.

“Watch out for bunnies,” I said with a smirk.

She shot off and before I finished chuckling, she was back.

“There are two zombies, each in the cab of a truck. I don’t think they are able to figure out how to get out of the truck. I didn’t spend a lot of time looking in the windows, but I didn’t see any inside the building as I went by. There is a group down the hill out in the field to behind the depot, but they’re a quarter mile off, if we can avoid guns or excessive noise they shouldn’t give us any trouble.”

Marshall reached one hand forward and crushed the Master Lock padlock in his fist, the chains fell apart and we opened up the gates, closing them behind us. I was reminded of that old TV commercial where they shot a Master Lock three times and it still held. Clearly they hadn’t designed that lock to be Marshall proof. I looped the chain back around the fence; it was enough to make it look like it was still locked before we headed towards the office.

We spent several minutes quietly tapping on the window glass and softly knocking on the doors before we decided the place was clear. Both doors to the office were locked, but one of the high windows was slightly cracked open. The bottom of the window was about even with the top of my head. While Marshall was on the other side of the building, I got my fingers in and slid the window the rest of the way up. When Marshall got around to my side, he laced his fingers together and squatted down. I put my foot in his hands and he practically launched me into the building.

I came down on the inside on my head and saw stars. I sat up, legs out in front of me feeling all over the back of my head for blood. It took me a couple of seconds to shake off the dizziness.

“Sorry!” was his loudly whispered apology from outside.

Eventually able to get to my feet, I unlocked the door, allowing the other three into the small office. There was a payment window at the end of the little lobby we were standing in. To the right was a showroom. There were hundreds of gas appliances, from wood stoves to gas logs, to ranges. There were even propane powered refrigerators. In the back of the showroom I found what I wanted, three large heaters that didn’t require venting the exhaust to the outside.

Leo and John moved off towards the back warehouse, while Marshall and I headed towards the office. I was hoping to find the lockbox where they kept the keys to the delivery vehicles. Marshall and I found a medicine cabinet sized steel box mounted to the wall by the back door. He really was getting strong. He braced his thumb against the door of the key cabinet and his four fingers against the wall and literally flipped the door open with just his thumb.

“Showoff,” I said.

“I was trying to be quiet!” he replied.

Inside there were six sets of keys. Two of them were large Volvo keys those had to be for tractor trailer rigs. One of them was a ford key. I grabbed all three sets, hoping the ford key was to a pickup. I’d forgotten that this place had such an extensive showroom and was excited about the prospect of picking up energy efficient, reliable heat for the housing above the barn.

“John, Leo, do you copy,” I said into the throat mic of the radio on my belt.

Leo laughed out loud and said, “Tookes, what is this, the military?”

“Right… Shut up. Seemed like the thing to say,” I said. “Do you see any large generators back there? What about vent-free heaters?”

“Right-o mate, there’s about six gennies and a dozen heaters back here,” was John’s response.

“Alright, you two figure out how to get the loading dock doors open, Marshall and I will find a truck and get it backed up to the dock.”

Marshall and I headed for the back exit. I hit the breaker bar on the door in stride. I felt a little extra resistance as I plowed the door open, causing a zombie in the remnants of a gray pinstripe suit to go stumbling backwards. Before I could reach back to pull the hatched I grabbed for this trip, Marshall shouldered past me knocking me around behind the door and smashed the thing with a huge hammer. The hammer liquefied the creature’s skull, making a gruesome dull wet thud. Bits of brain and skull splattered the inside of the door. The corpse was launched backwards by the power of the blow, landing on its crushed head. Its legs flipped up over its head, folding it in half with a crack of its spine. I could smell the putrid gore like the whiff of a rotten fart running down the door and the wall next to me.

Marshall had cut the handles of his hammers off halfway, sanded the ends and stuffed a thick nylon strap through the handle. He was now holding a hammer in each hand and stepped out into the yard. I let go of the door and watched it swing shut.

“Shit, where did they come from?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I got this,” replied Marshall confidently. “I’ve been working on a new trick.” He started swinging one hammer by the nylon strap, spinning it so fast it made a low bass whirring noise, like those Australian noise makers. John called it a didgeridoo once when I referred to it as a boomerang on a string. At that same time he referred to me as a drongo. Still not sure what that means.

In one smooth motion he let the hammer go and watched it smash through the faces of four zombies in a row, completely decapitating the first three and caving in the skull of the fourth. The corpses fell backwards against each other like dominoes, landing in a heap of vile flesh. He switched his other hammer to his right hand and began spinning it like he had the first. Marshall used his left hand to pick the corpse of the smash-faced zombie up by one foot. He let out a soft grunt as he slung it into the group of undead staring at us with that same vacant hunger-lust in their eyes. There was a line of them steadily streaming through a hole in the fence behind this group.

I heard a crash behind us, as the fence caved in on the other side of the yard and another group headed towards us from behind.

“Leo, John. We’re going to need some help.” I said into the mic, drawing my hatchet and pistol.

“Aww shit, Vic. It’s only a few,” complained Marshall finishing a golf style swing, which launched the top jaw and most of the skull of a zombie over the fence.

“Only takes one.” I said.

“Not for us. Well, maybe for you.”

Leo and John got the door to the loading dock open at the other end of the building. John was holding a cardboard box full of cheap five dollar buck knives, still in the plastic packaging. He threw the first knife, package and all at the farthest zombie from us. When the package hit the zombies head, the knife kept going, slicing through its container and entering the brain stem of the zed. He threw six more packages, dropping six more zombies the exact same way. At the same time, Leo took off in a blur. The easiest way to follow her was to watch the heads flying in the air in the wake of her destruction. It reminded me of a combine harvesting corn, shooting out the ears into a hopper behind. This was her go-to method of undead destruction, running down the line faster than they could grab for her, kukri extended at neck height, lopping their heads off as she ran past.

“Hey Leo,” yelled John. ”I bet I can get that one before you!” He said throwing a packaged knife with deadly accuracy at the walking corpse of an old lady wearing only a long tee shirt style nightgown. On the front of the nightgown was a picture of a cat, sitting down on a rug. The caption read “The best cure for insomnia is a furry friend.” She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, but should have been. In life she must have weighed two-fifty or better. Her tits sagged to her waist.

Not to be outdone, Leo poured on a burst of speed from clear across the grounds. She chased down the flying knife, reached up and plucked it from the air while she was running, then speared the old lady through the middle of her forehead on the end of a short sword. She lifted the handle of the curved blade, splitting the old lady’s face as the corpse slid to the ground, forever unmoving.

“Not fair!” yelled John. He threw the last seven knives in one quick movement, including the cardboard box. Each knife flew straight and accurate, out of the box. Each blade buried itself in the forehead of its target.

“Jesus, John, how hard do you have to throw those knives to get them to stick in their foreheads?” I shouted, almost laughing. In unison the corpses fell to their knees and then toppled forward all at the same time. Three of them came to rest face down with their heads inside the empty cardboard box.

“Catch those, Leo!” he laughed.

While John and Leo were playing with the first group, Marshall smashed through all the undead in front of us and was wading through a sea of bodies towards the gap in the fence. He bent down and retrieved the hammer he’d thrown in his empty left hand and then brought the two hammer heads together. I’m sure the sound of two giant heat treated high carbon steel hammer heads clanging together with that much force would had been deafening, except that there was a head between them to absorb the blow. The skull exploded in a circle outward from the head in all directions, launching gore twenty five feet in the air. Marshall had an almost perfect line of gray matter and blood from his crotch to his forehead.

About halfway to the broken segment of fence he stopped at a pallet of propane tanks, the kind for regular gas grills. He picked one off the stack with one hand and hurled it like a football into the crowd of zombies. The 25 pound tank pushed a crowd of undead backwards towards the hole in the fence.

Feeling fairly useless, I walked around towards the front of the building, stepping over parts, the carnage was really amazing.

My radio crackled in my ear “Tookes, this is Bookbinder; we’re coming up that way. I can see your location from the top of the police headquarters; there is a group of 200 or more heading your way. What are you guys doing? This horde was heading towards us, we had to do a little shooting. They stopped mid-step, turned around and started walking towards you. “

“I don’t know, I said, we’re being fairly quiet. We’ve got about 150 here we were killing hand to hand.”

His reply was short, “You took on 150 hand to hand?”

Chapter 3
Rescue

“Yea, we’re blowing off a little steam. We’ve about got this cleaned up but I’ll let them know that the locals seem to know we’re here.”

“Hey!” I yelled with my newly acquired subspace voice. I don’t really know what to call that voice, when I yell loud enough that people hear it in their heads, not just with their ears. I was always a fan of Star Trek, so subspace seems to be the closest thing I can think of. It came out loud enough for everyone within two miles to hear. I needed to work on controlling that, or finding out if that was possible.

“There are 200 more coming and maybe more behind that. I suggest we go to weapons and end this.” When I spoke, every zombie in the place turned to look at me for a moment. They lowered their hands to their sides and stared directly at me. In unison their heads tilted slightly to the side, before they started walking towards me. I guess they could hear me too.

Gunfire broke out from all over the propane depot yard. I heard Marshall’s shotgun and John’s pistols decimating walkers. I fired my own Sig through three magazines and loaded the fourth before there was a break in the action.

The four of us came back together outside the depot office.

“I probably should have covered this before, but does anyone know how to fill one of these trucks with propane?” I asked.

“I would bet there is a fill tube and a valve somewhere.” offered John somewhat less than helpfully.

“Good, that makes you the expert. Figure it out,” I replied unable to keep from grinning.

“Marshall, Leo, find trucks with keys. I want two full gas tankers at the house.”

Marshall and Leo left to find trucks that worked with the keys they had, while John sauntered over to the huge propane tanks. John was one of those guys that could look at anything and figure out how it works. Marshall and Leo opened the door to one of the trucks, a zombie fell out. His entire body was swollen up like a balloon, it must have reached 150 degrees in the cab of that truck several times over this summer and it hadn’t been good for this corpse. He literally popped when he hit the ground, his skin splitting all the way up his back. Only his shirt kept its liquefied innards from escaping. Marshall smashed his now deflated head with a hammer and stepped up on the gas tank step to get in the truck. Instead of sliding into the driver’s seat, he immediately got out, retched and vomited up his entire lunch all over the already rotten corpse.

“Oh god,” I overhead him say, “I’m not sure I can stay in that truck. Let’s go open the other door, find your truck and see if it airs out some.”

They walked over to the other truck, which thankfully didn’t have a rotten ghoul in it. Leo climbed up into the cab, while Marshall walked to the back of the truck. ”Push in the clutch and put it in first gear Leo!” He yelled up to the cab. Then with what looked like very little effort, Marshall shoved the truck towards the filling area. “Let out the clutch!”

She popped the clutch and the truck sputtered. The engine turned over twice before it roared to life and took off. She drove it a lap around the yard and left it idling by the fill station. She moved at what had to be her top speed to the second truck, it was nearly instant. The only way to know she’d moved was the trail of dust rising up into the sky, as far as my eyes could tell, she disappeared at one truck and reappeared at the other.

Either the second truck had aired out some, or Leo was a little tougher than Marshall, because she hopped up in the truck as Marshall pushed that one up the hill. With one shove, the truck went zero to twenty-five miles per hour uphill. Marshall didn’t even grunt.

Just as that truck started, I heard the crash of chain link behind me. When I ran around the other side of the building, I skidded to a halt. Easily three hundred more zombies had pushed over the fence and were now coming our way.

“Guys! At least four hundred more, front gates!” I sent to everyone, while running back around the building. I had one more full magazine for my pistol. I had several for the rifle. I raised Sammie to my shoulder and started mowing down zombies as fast as I could cycle the bolt. Which I’m sure was a tenth as fast as John could, but he had his own guns. Twelve shots netted me eleven dead zombies. Replace the magazine, twelve more shots and ten dead zombies. By then, they had closed to within twenty yards, so I switched to the pistol. I fired of its twelve shots. At thirty feet I was faster and as accurate with the pistol. When they were ten feet away I holstered my now empty sidearm and drew the hatchet attached to my pack. Marshall was twirling both hammers. John had both of his guns holstered and was reloading magazines, his hands a blur as he pulled bullets out of every pocket and pouch.

Leo was standing in line with us, her short swords drawn. We looked like a line of heroes about to fight their last stand when suddenly the first row of undead collapsed in a hail of bullets. I looked to the left; there was Bookbinder and his team, laying down cross fire. He’d come at this horde from the flank, his men were decimating them. We were all out of ammo except John and I think he was getting low. John typically carried a thousand rounds on him, one of the reasons he preferred the smaller and lighter .22 and .9mm calibers. They were so much lighter than 30.06 or .45 calibers, the magazines were half the size and John was just as deadly with the smaller bullets.

When this latest wave was dead, Bookbinder, Reineer, Hostetler, Garrett, Johnson came walking up.

“There are at least a thousand more that all turned their heads this way right before we heard that first engine start up. We need to get out of here, quickly.”

“I’ve got the filling figured out I think Tookes. But we need power.” said John.

“Alright, let’s get out with what’s in the trucks. Marshall, do you have any idea if there was anything in them?” I asked.

“The retched smelling one was way heavier than the first one. I think the first one might be close to empty, but I think the last one was pretty full.”

“Ok, let’s go with that, we need to grab a truck to load the generators, heaters and more propane. Leave one generator in the warehouse to power the fill equipment and we’ll be quieter.” I said.

We loaded up in the trucks, I noticed Marshall was somehow faster than Leo to the ‘non stinky’ truck. I hopped into the passenger seat of the rancid truck with Leo, but I only had to ride with her to the Jeep.

Less than three minutes later, John pulled out with a pickup truck loaded with five propane generators, six vent-free heaters and three propane powered stand lamps, like old-time gas burning street lamps.

When Leo and I got to the Jeep, Bookbinder’s team hopped off the back of the tanker trucks and got into a pair of police cars and the swat van.

“Holy crap Charlie, you got the swat van!”

“Sir. That was my mission, sir. We had to engage very light hostiles, the police barracks was empty, save three infected in the holding cells in the drunk-tank. We ended those three and had the run of the place. This big heap,” he said as he pounded the sides of the swat van, “Was the only thing that would carry the radio repeater, so we had to take it.”

I grinned at Charlie “Nice work M1.”

Charlie beamed a smile back at me and his men looked proud.

“What about m3? How are they doing at the CVS?” I asked.

“Scott reported that they had no problems. They were supposed to radio if they had any contact, they checked in about twenty minutes ago that the only infected they saw turned around and started stumbling this way.” replied Charlie. “His second, Jacobsen will have a full list of supplies when they report back, but Scott said the CVS had not been scavenged before.”

“And m5? Did they have any trouble at the clinic?”

“No, Johnson reported three contacts with infected. They killed those three with hand to hand weapons when they breached the building. The few they saw wandering towards the clinic turned around and left before they got within melee range. They were also successful in loading up diagnostic equipment and prescription drugs,” said Charlie. “They found over seven hundred Percocet tablets in the doctor’s desk.”

I laughed out loud, “That’s too funny. Doc had a monkey on his back.”

Chapter 4
Sniper

We loaded up in the trucks, Bookbinder and his crew in the swat van, Marshall in the disgusting rotting flesh propane truck, Leo in the other. John drove the pickup truck full of equipment and I led the way in the yellow Jeep and headed for home.

We drove slowly through town; I wanted to get a feel for how things were in Culpeper. There were occasional pockets of undead and as we passed, they would look up and start shambling our way. We watched behind us, for the most part they stopped coming after us when we were half a mile or so ahead of them. That was good to know, I was slightly worried they’d follow us all the way to our house.

On two occasions, the undead were blocking the road. Both groups were around a dozen in a tight pack, walking down the middle of the road. It was interesting to watch them; they seemed to mostly stick to the roads or sidewalks. It was very seldom that they went through yards or grass, unless they were directly chasing something to eat. Maybe the pavement was easier walking, I don’t know. We were trying to save ammunition and since we had both teams together, we were killing them with hand to hand weapons. I was pretty confident in my “charge, sidestep, hatchet to the head” technique.

The stupid zombies never did anything differently. They had one attack plan. They walked towards you, grabbed at you, whatever part of you protruded or they could first get their hands on. Last they tried to get their teeth into you.

Marshall, on the other hand, had adopted a smash and smash technique. He smashed their hands with one hammer and then came across the temple with the other. The corpses he left with his short handled sledge hammers all looked the same. Mangled arms, smashed temple.

Leo of course was a dervish, she bobbed and wheeled around, slicing with her short swords, she seldom killed with a single strike, but she also seldom fought a single zombie. She preferred to take them on in groups, whittling then down slice by slice as she weaved in between them. John had collected all of the knives he found in the warehouse, just cheap case knives, but he could throw them from fifty feet or one foot away and put them in a zombie’s eye. He worked the hardest to maintain the slightest distance, I’m sure he was deadly in close quarters, but he liked to have some room to work.

The surprise of the day was Bookbinder. He moved with grace like Leo and strength like Marshall. He used a machete and a tire knocker, which looked a lot like a small wooden bat. This small club was about 18 inches long and solid oak. Charlie used it to steer the zombies, lining them up, controlling them.

On more than one occasion I watched him jam the miniature club in the mouth of a corpse and drive it to the ground, following that up with a quick thrust from his machete, which he’d ground to a point, instead of the usual rounded tip. He was a normal, unaltered, every day human, but he was every bit a lifetime, career warrior. All of my advantages, being able to read auras and being able to consider and see my opponent’s next move make me probably equal to Bookbinders natural combat prowess

Almost all of M1 carried the same weapons combination and all of them fought with the same style, clearly Charlie had been training them. Control first, kill second. They all used their club as a blocking, driving almost shield like weapon. On more than one occasion I saw them jam it in the mouth of a zombie at the last moment, saving their arm or a comrade’s arm from a bite. These men were not immune, or if they were they didn’t know it and yet they fought with the same fierceness, almost abandon with which the four of us did.

We stopped at the gas station before leaving town. They had gasoline tanks buried in the front of the store; this was one of those mega convenience stores with thirty gas pumps and ten diesel pumps.

“I just want to see what they have for now; we’re going to have to make another run out here.” I said. “But first I’d like to figure out some way to store a large quantity of gasoline back at the farm. I don’t want to have to make trips out here every couple of days. And I don’t trust that others won’t either take all the gas or wreck it so no one can use it. Let’s take an inventory of what’s here, I’ll be right back.”

The front doors of the convenience store had been blown apart, maybe by shotgun blasts or maybe from a vehicle, it was hard to tell from the mangled mess. I stepped through the doorway crunching on broken glass. Just inside the doors was a zombie with an ornately carved African looking short spear sticking out of its head. On my way by, I yanked the spear free and walked down the aisles carrying it like a walking stick. In the 2nd to last isle, I found what I was looking for, the M&M’s. Max loved M&M’s. He’d be thrilled to have some. I took every bag of every flavor M&M, emptying the boxes of candy into my backpack.

I opened the refrigerator and took a diet Mountain Dew off the rack. It was hot. Not just not cold, but hot. I grabbed three more and added them to the top of the pack, before returning to the front of the store. Behind the cash register, I grabbed three cartons of cigarettes, filling the rest of my pack with every flavor of menthol cigarette left on the shelves. I walked back out in the late afternoon sun to see Marshall and John talking animatedly.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” I asked.

“Marshall says there’s ten thousand gallons of fuel here, across the three grades of gasoline you blokes have. I don’t see how he gets to that number, by my calculations, there’s 38,000 liters.”

“John, that’s 10,038 gallons.” I said after a second’s calculation. I grinned “We’re in America, use imperial measurements, the metric system is flawed.”

“Don’t make me beat you within 2.54 centimeters of ya life.” He replied with a smirk.

We all laughed and we loaded back up in the trucks.

At the edge of the business section of town was the library. It had been built only a few years before, during the housing boom of the early 2000's, when tax revenue was high and the town felt like it had all the money in the world. They’d spent $16 million dollars on that library, something that had disgusted me at the time. Now I was grateful that it was there. A huge three story stone building with triple pane UV protected bullet proof glass, surrounded by giant stone planters with huge trees growing in them. The stone planters were big enough to stop a large truck, modeling the architecture of post 9/11 Washington DC. The knowledge of mankind was safe in that building and there it would stay, in the most protected place, until we were ready to go retrieve it.

The outside of Culpeper was ringed by residential neighborhoods. When the town had living people in it, the locals knew to cut through one neighborhood to get from the main road through town over to Route 15. That route was my habit and I instinctively turned into the neighborhood that day. We were almost through that neighborhood when I heard a blood curdling scream.

Simultaneously all of the trucks came to a halt. I grabbed my new spear as Leo and I dismounted the Jeep and ran a hundred yards to see a man in shorts and a tee shirt get tackled to the ground. He was screaming, trying to get away from what was left of a woman. Six months ago she would have been a reasonably attractive girl. She was wearing little tiny shorts that said PINK across her ass. The pink shorts were stained brown and she had a little bit of a white tee shirt left on. Most of the shirt had been ripped away at some point, exposing her from the neck down. Almost all the flesh was missing from her neck down, the bones of her rib cage shone in the last of the daylight. Based on the amount of missing flesh around her midsection, I would say she’d been turned by several zombies feasting on her. The tee shirt neck was still intact and one sleeve. The rest of it hung down her back, like a cape covered in dried blood.

We ducked back around the corner of large house with pale blue siding. I stopped behind some prickly bushes, to take stock of the scene.

Leo started to charge in, but I grabbed her hand and stopped her. Something didn’t seem right. I quickly studied the scene. There were no weapons on the ground nearby; the man had no back pack on. ”Who would be smart enough to survive this long and then leave the house without weapons or a pack?” I whispered to Leo. ”Something is wrong.”

“He could have dropped them when he ran,” she said softly. “He could have lost them. He could have been asleep and they surprised him.”

“Sure, but something doesn’t feel right. Do you feel it?” I whispered

“No, I see a man that needs help,” she whispered fiercely.

“Leo, he was dead the minute he got tackled. There’s nothing we can do now except put him out of his misery. This is wrong. My gut tells me something is wrong.”

Into the throat mic, I whispered “Bookbinder, check out our position, head around behind the house, there’s something wrong here. Have John and Marshall move up past the yellow house to our left, but circle over a block before coming up this way.”

Leo and I stood there, transfixed by the man’s screams. ”Help!” He yelled as I poked my head around the corner “My name is Andrew Zione, Help! I’m humaaa”. His cries left off into a gurgle of screams as the zombie bit into his crotch, ripping meat from the inside of his leg, I could hear its teeth scraping Andrew’s thigh bone.

The thing pulled its head away dragging tendons with it like floss between the festering corpses teeth, blood spurted from Andrew’s leg wound. The zombie chewed twice and swallowed the hunk of thigh meat. The next bite the zombie took was Andrew’s manhood, ripping it away from his body, chewing slowly. The screams raised several octaves and became louder, as the zombie dove in for a third bite, peeling the flesh away from his belly, allowing Andrew’s guts to slide out like links of raw sausage onto the grass.

“Fuck, how is he still alive?” I said. The screams still haunt me.

“Vic, I… We… We can’t… This can’t go on.” Leo stammered.

“Leo, there’s something very wrong. This is a setup, I can feel it.”

I considered running in there, a shadow shot out from my body. When shadow-me got two feet from Andrew’s decimated body its head exploded and it fell over sideways.

“There’s a sniper somewhere.” I whispered into the mic.

“Sir, M1 is breaching the houses to the south. Marshall and John are heading around to the north. We’ll find it.”

I tried to speak quietly using my subspace voice, focused entirely on John’s aura in my mind, attempting to speak only to him. “John, there’s a sniper that’s got us pinned here. I can’t see him. We can’t move. Find him and take it out.”

“Leo, did you hear me just then?”

“I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Yes, I was trying to talk directly to John. I hope he heard me.”

Andrew kept screaming. This girl was definitely being controlled by something, I’ve only seen a few zombie attacks like this one, mostly on that first day, but those zombies were ravenous, they bit and ate whatever parts came near their mouths. These bites are being chosen to inflict the maximum pain without killing the victim. The zombie girl moved upwards, leaving a trail of his guts lying on the grass. She sat on his chest and took a bite of Andrew’s face, ripping his nose off. Fresh blood spattered the ghoul’s face, as she sat up and slowly chewed, looking directly at us. Andrew’s screams became wet, gurgling moans of pain. He was writhing under her, but her knees held his arms pinned securely.

The rancid corpse turned around and put her ass on Andrews face as she reached into his belly and pulled out a rope of thick slimy guts. I’d swear she looked directly at me and smiled before she bit his intestine in half. Stinking bile, so strong we could smell it from our spot hiding under a bush leaked out of the intestine, down her chin, dripping into the man’s stomach cavity.

Andrew’s moans became quieter, muffled when the zombie sat down on his face, smothering his anguished cries. Almost all of the undead we’d encountered had shit themselves and of course they’d never bothered to clean up the natural release at death. At least Andrew had no nose with which to smell the six month old rotting feces covered ass that was smothering him to death while the zombie ate his guts. Finally the muffled moaning stopped completely.

At last, we heard a shot ring out from the south, followed by Bookbinder’s voice on the radio “Sniper terminated. All clear sir.”

I stepped around the corner of the house, sig in my hand ready to put both corpses out of their misery. When I get in sight of the bloody mess on the ground, there are no zombies to be found. No footprints in the grass, no blood trail, no nothing. Just a bloody, mashed down spot in the long grass and a bit of intestine lying on the lawn.

“What the fuck?” I swore to myself.

Leo sobbed into my shoulder. The horror of what we just saw was too much for even the tough Spartan woman. I turned and hugged her tightly for a moment before we walked back to the Jeep.

The ride home was quiet. We saw no more zombies as we sped down the highway, paying no attention to the speed limit signs we passed. It wasn’t likely we’d ever pass another car.

We spotted a herd of nine deer off to the side of the road. In the rear view mirror I saw John point his pistol out the side of the truck he was driving. As he did, I slowed the Jeep. He fired two shots and two deer dropped over sideways where the stood. The Jeep bounced easily over the edge of the road and down a small bank. The rest of the crew kept going the last two miles to the house as I pulled up to the two dead deer.

“Help me load these.” I said, hopping out the driver’s side of the Jeep.

Leo stepped down off the other side and said “Poor deer, never had a chance. At least when I hunt I give them a sporting chance, I run them down.”

“Leo, these deer died to feed us. They were never afraid, they never felt anything. I’m grateful for the meat. There is no sport in you running down a buck. You can run 100 times faster than it can.” I chided.

Leo looked hurt, her face scrunched into a frown. I stepped towards her, wrapping her in my arms.

“I’m sorry darlin’. I’m a little out of sorts from watching that guy Andrew, but I couldn’t risk your life for him, he was infected by the time we saw him. I couldn’t risk you. What if that sniper had been as good at shooting as John? What if he shot you? I buried my head in her shoulder and hugged her for a long time.

We loaded the two carcasses up on the hood of the Jeep and headed for home. It had been a long day, I was tired and I still had to find out how The CVS and Clinic raids went, dress and process these two deer and find some time to be a father to my little boy, who I missed very much at that moment.

Chapter 5
State Police

Earlier that morning, the day Tookes went to the propane depot, Leon Scott watched Bookbinder stride purposely down the hill. The chill in the fall morning air made his breath visible as he walked. He’d spent the last hour in an early morning strategy meeting with The Four. He looked calm and in control.

“Listen up. Colonel Bookbinder is here. Attention!” Shouted Scott.

Nineteen men came running out of various places around the barn. They lined up in two straight rows and stood at attention on the gravel parking lot they used as the parade ground. Scott stood off to the side, facing the men.

“Colonel Bookbinder, Sir. Fire teams M1, M2, M3 and M5 present,” Scott reported. “M4 is out running a perimeter check, due back in twenty minutes,” said Bookbinder’s newly promoted Lieutenant.

“Command has need for medical supplies, communications equipment and fuel for cooking,” said Bookbinder.

“M2, you’re on homeland patrol, so you’re sitting this out. M1, we’re going to the police station to secure assets necessary to the mission. M3, your mission is to take the CVS off route 29 in downtown Culpeper. This is a hostile environment. The number of infected is expected to number in the tens of thousands in Culpeper and you’re heading right to the edge of a residential area. Your orders are to breach the CVS, acquire medical equipment and supplies, over the counter and prescription drugs. You are not to fire unless contact is overwhelming. Men, this is a silent mission. Get in and get out, no noise, no attention. Grab the assets and go. You leave in five minutes. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!” shouted M3's team members.

“M3, take the two explorers, grab your gear and go. Dismissed!”

“M5, your orders are as follows. Breach and clear the plastic surgery center on the corner of 1st and Market St. Obtain medical equipment, including diagnostic imaging equipment that can be transported, sutures, IV bags and kits and any drugs you can find. We’re setting up a clinic here, so make it complete boys. Mission parameters are the same as M3, no gunfire unless absolutely necessary. You’re one block off the center of downtown Culpeper, the highest population density area for fifty miles. Do not draw attention to yourselves. Breach gently, make sure you can lock the place up securely when you leave. We may need that clinic in the future and we may need it fast, I don’t want to have to re-clear the building if we have a wounded man bleeding out. Once you secure the premises, remove any corpses and haul them away from the building. We don’t want it to look like anyone’s been there. M5, do you understand your mission?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the members of M5 replied in unison.

“Good. Take the Ford Dually and the white F250. You know Tookes loves that white pickup, don’t wreck it. M5, you leave in five minutes, dismissed!”

“M2, ready yourselves for homeland patrol. You leave when M4 gets back. Dismissed!”

When everyone was gone except Bookbinder’s own team, he continued with the orders.

“M1. Our mission is two-fold. Command has directed us to recon the state police headquarters. They’ve also tasked us with keeping an eye out and being ready to back up any of the other teams as required. Our mission at the headquarters is to acquire police assets, vests, weapons, ammunition, communications equipment and vehicles.”

“Men, The Four are heading to the propane depot. Their mission is to secure cooking fuel for Mrs. Tookes. They’ve got the most open area and they’re a little cocky. We’ll need to back them up if they get in over their heads.”

“We leave in five minutes also. Get to it men, dismissed.”

Charlie headed quickly down to his room in the grooms cottage to gather his stuff. He’d taken the small one room cottage for himself. He let anyone to use his bathroom at almost any time, his door was never locked. Inside the small, cozy cottage he knelt down at his foot locker, unlocked it and retrieved his weapons. He almost never openly wore even a side arm on the property, both as a show of respect for the children in the area and to show that he was confident in their safety. He did carry a small frame 9mm handgun concealed in the rear waistband of his pants; he’d been carrying that weapon for 15 years and just didn’t feel right without it.

He strapped on his desert camo combat vest and slid in the armor plates. The chest strap for his HK g3 attached to D-rings on his vest. The H&K was .308 caliber carbine. It was almost as powerful as the rifle Tookes called Sammie and just as accurate at ranges out to a hundred yards. It had a collapsible stock which allowed it to be more effective indoors and an ACOG scope for faster target acquisition. Bookbinder carried six twenty round magazines in his combat vest plus one in the rifle, Charlie alone could handle a small horde of infected.

He walked out of his cottage ready to do violence. His men were there waiting for him, already sitting in the explorer. Charlie knew they’d be bringing additional vehicles home, so they were riding packed tightly for the fifteen miles up through town.

They arrived at the police station in no time, the place looked deserted. The building itself was steel, Dalton Reineer exited the front passenger side of the vehicle and advanced on the eight foot chain link and barbed wire fence. He pulled a large pair of collapsible bolt cutters from his pack and unfolded the handles out to their full twenty-four inches. These cutters were military issue and easily cut through the padlock that was holding the fence closed.

Reineer removed the chain, looped it through one side of the fence and opened the gate, motioning Hostetler to drive through. On the way to the police station, they’d discussed entry points, it seemed most logical to breach through the back door near the giant roll up doors. There were a dozen police cars parked inside the chain link fence; two of them were explorers with full bull bars and inside prisoner cages.

The team approached the rear door in a formation that they’d practiced in the yard on Charlie’s cabin door a hundred times. Hostetler, Reineer and Garrett on the handle side, Johnson on the hinge side. Charlie stepped forward with a large Halligan style pry-bar. He drove the forked end into the crack between the latch and the frame and pried out and right, sending the door flying open to the left.

Johnson caught the door, giving Charlie room to step to the side between Hostetler and Reineer to recover from the prying outside the line of fire from the room. Hostetler and Reineer stepped forward as Charlie was stepping between them in a well choreographed dance. Charlie holstered the Halligan and shouldered his rifle. The two underlings cleared the entry way. They started way back from the door, taking small sections of the room. They stepped up, each step towards the doorway giving them a larger view into the room. They knelt on either side of the door, as Charlie stepped through to clear the blind corner just inside the door.

“Well done boys, that was textbook. Keep your wits about you. Garrett, tell me what you sense.”

“Nothing has been in this room in a long time. No tracks in the dust. I don’t hear anything walking around, Sir,” said Garrett.

“And what else Johnson?” Bookbinder quizzed the men. He never missed an opportunity to drive home their training.

“I don’t see anything moving through the windows. I think we’re good.”

“Dammit Johnson, use your nose.”

“I can’t smell anything. My nose is stuffy,” replied Johnson.

“You should quit smoking, it kills your senses. Would you smoke if it clouded your vision?” He asked again.

“Yes, Sir.” Said Johnson, “I mean no Sir—I mean, I should quit, Sir. I would not smoke if it clouded my vision, Sir.”

“Alright,” Bookbinder said. “I smell rotten meat. I smell stupid zombies in here. They’re not in this room, if they were that smell would have assaulted our noses, but they’re in here somewhere.”

Once the lesson was over they moved as a unit through the building clearing room by room. After the first room when it became clear that the building wasn’t full of infected, Charlie let his rifle hang and once again drew the halligan.

They’d come in via the police entrance, not the front door of the building. Charlie opened the door to the hallway and took a long smell. The stench of months old flesh was stronger in the hallway. Five steps down the hallway there were doors on the right and left. Charlie held up two fingers and then pointed to Reineer and himself. He pointed to Dalton, Hostetler and Johnson and pointed at the door across the hallway.

The team split into two groups and on Charlie’s mark each quietly turned the knob and opened their door. Charlie stepped into the gloomy room to see a corpse in a police uniform turn its head towards him. It was wearing glasses and still had its patrolman’s hat on. Its eyes locked on to him. They were milky and white but the hunger stood out in them. The creature walked forward into its desk and fell face-first onto a pile of folders. With the zombie bent over the desk like that, Charlie quickly closed the distance and lodged his halligan into its brain.

Reineer pulled an old office chair away and sent it rolling over towards a giant metal book case that ran the length of the side wall. The mostly empty shelves were painted the same beige color as everything else in the building. A few trophies, a couple awards and a family picture were the only things on the first half; Charlie noted a small selection of paperbacks filling about half of a single shelf towards the end of the room.

The two of them laid the patrolman down on the blue carpet-tiled floor and went to work. Reineer removed the utility belt from the officer, putting a Kimber 1911 frame .45 caliber pistol and four magazines into his backpack. Next he removed a pair of handcuffs from the rear pouch and slid a Maglite and collapsible baton off the belt, still in their holsters. The flashlight and baton and hand gun holster went into his pack.

Charlie poked its stomach with his finger.

“Cheap body armor. This is the everyday wear stuff; it’ll stop a three-eighty, but won’t do anything for seven-six-two. Plus, it’s unlikely we’ll ever get the smell out.” Go check on the others, I’ll poke around here and see if there’s anything useful.

When Reineer was gone, Bookbinder set to work checking the man’s pockets. He found a set of keys in the front pocket. The keychain said “World’s Greatest Dad” and it held a house key and two car keys, one for a Toyota and one for a Chevrolet. Two keys were for Master Lock padlocks and the last key was to his handcuffs.

Charlie rolled the corpse over, removed the officer’s drivers license from his wallet, inserting it into his back pocket without even glancing at it.

Bookbinder stood up and walked into the hall. The rest of the team was there, ready to move on. “Be sure to take their keys and get their driver’s licenses. LEO’s often have sizable gun collections at home,” he said, using the common military slang for law enforcement officers.

There were three other doors in the hall, two other doors on the right led to empty restrooms. The third door at the end of the hall had long, narrow vertical glass windows, embedded with chicken wire.

“That door up there will lead to the common area. We’re likely to see greater numbers of infected up there. Stay sharp, stay focused. Hand to hand wherever possible. Move forward on my signal.”

Bookbinder moved swiftly and silently, pressed against the wall until he was at the door. He peered through the window, exposing as little of himself as possible to anything that may be on the other side.

The room on the other side of the doors was the main lobby of the state police barracks. It took Bookbinder almost a full minute to count the walkers in there. They were all in a pack in the center of the room, facing inward. Men and women, inThe pack was, as a whole, swaying gently side to side. Each zombie had their arms spread, resting on the shoulder of the corpse beside them, their heads down, tucked into the smallest space possible. Charlie waved to his man to stay back and then crept back to them, pulling them backwards to the first room.

“Alright, I counted fifty-two in the lobby. They’re huddled together in a tight group, standing in the middle of the room. There are two seating areas under the big windows in the front, but other than that, the room is mostly empty. I couldn’t see anything to the left, but I think that’s where the receptionist would be, probably behind some bullet proof glass.”

The four men with Charlie looked afraid. This was a major operation, bigger than anything they had experienced yet.

“We won’t let you down, Sir,” said Dalton quietly.

“Son, I’m not the least bit worried about that. We all keep our heads and remember our training; we’re going to walk out of this place feeling unstoppable. Here’s the plan.”

Charlie laid out the plan to the group. When everyone understood, the five of them cleared the rest of the building, leaving the huddle until the end. They moved as a unit, encountering only two undead, both of them dispatched via halligan soundlessly. When they got to the last room of the second hallway, Bookbinder pulled the men together.

“Alright, silence from here out.” Charlie whispered. “This is the room where the receptionists sat. The end of this room has thick bullet proof glass, with a hole cut out for speaking through. The three of you stay here. Creep up on that glass, on your bellies if you have to, do not let them see you.”

Garrett, Hostetler and Johnson nodded their understanding.

When you hear Reineer and I firing, open fire through the speaking ports in that huge window. When they’re all down, Reineer and I will step in and finish any with our halligans, you three stay in your position and give us some cover.

Reineer and Bookbinder backtracked down the empty hallways to the first set of double doors, creeping the last ten feet sliding along the wall. The doors opened into the big room by a breaker bar. Bookbinder held up three fingers and pantomimed kicking the breaker bar.

Reineer nodded his acknowledgement and both men put their earplugs in. Bookbinder started the countdown. One finger, two fingers and on the third finger, both men kicked the doors open and opened fire. Bookbinder thumbed his weapon to single shot and aimed each bullet through the ACOG scope. That scope was designed to be fired with both eyes open, allowing him to acquire targets much faster than with a regular scope.

Reineer opened up on full auto, cutting the zombies down. According to their training, the four men with Bookbinder were to lay down rotating heavy suppression fire. Zombies had no fear, but if you put enough bullets into their spine, they did lose the ability to stand upright. A slow dragger was easier to handle than a walker. That bought time for Bookbinder to pick them off one by one with headshots.

At the end of the firing, the room was filled with the smell of gun smoke and the cluster of zombies was dead, shredded from the volume of bullets pumped into them. At the sound of the doors being kicked open, they wheeled around to be met a hail of bullets. Bookbinder only missed one shot, but silently chided himself for wasting that one bullet.

“Great work, men. You’ve earned your combat stripes today,” said Charlie. “Let’s meet back at the first room”

When the other three arrived in the first room, Bookbinder handed out the orders for the second part of the mission. “Garrett, Hostetler, make your way to the roof and see how hard it will be to remove the radio tower, then report back. Reineer, you’re with me, we’re going looking for keys, guns, ammo and vests.”

“What about me, sir?”

“Johnson, you’re on corpse duty. Glove up and search those bodies out there. Haul the corpses from in here out to the lobby.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Johnson, somewhat less than enthusiastically.

“Yes Sir!” the other men said, as they all went their separate ways inside the building. Charlie knew that the door to the garage was in the next room over. He’d had to breach the door with the halligan the first time through; whichever officer had the keys decided not to leave them on a hook for him right by the door. This time the door swung easily open and led them into the garage where the SWAT truck was parked.

“Reineer, find the keys to this van please. You might check with Johnson in a few minutes to see if he’s found them,” Bookbinder ordered.

Reineer started searching the garage for the keys while Bookbinder headed for the weapons locker on the far side of the room. Bookbinder’s halligan made quick work of the lock on the arms locker and he stepped into the walk-in closet sized police arsenal. Charlie’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when he entered the locker. Along one of the walls were rows of rifles and shotguns. The other long wall was all handguns, with thirty Heckler-Koch g36K assault rifles standing in racks along the middle. The same gun that Bookbinder himself carried. These super short barrel folding stock assault rifles were perfect for close quarters combat. They were designed for short range accuracy and substantial rate of fire. At the back was the ammunition locker, which was unlocked. Inside it held 8500 rounds of 5.52×49 ammunition for the assault rifles, various rounds for the shotguns and rifles, including nearly 2000 double-ought buck shot.

Bookbinder left the weapons cage and went to find a cart to load this on in the event that Reineer was unable to find the keys to the swat truck. On the way by the truck Bookbinder looked in the window and saw the keys hanging in the ignition.

“Reineer!” Bookbinder yelled with a grin on his face.

Dalton Reineer came running in, “Yes sir?” he said, skidding to a halt.

“The keys are in the ignition. Don’t overlook the obvious,” Bookbinder said, clapping the man on the back.

“Sorry sir. I found keys to a bunch of vehicles outside too.”

“Nice work then. Help me load the armory into this thing. I want the central racks too and every round of ammunition in the cage. Load and save four of the HK’s and four extra mags for each. I’m going to sweet the perimeter and check on Johnson on corpse duty.”

Bookbinder walked out of the garage, back through the lobby of the police station. The door leading outside was standing open. Bookbinder saw Johnson with his weapon drawn, crouched behind a car. The only reason he’d take cover would be if someone had a gun. That meant humans.

Bookbinder shouldered his H&K and started edging out the door until he could see what Johnson was looking at. Frye and six of his men had pulled up in two Humvees and were mounting their .50 caliber on the turret.

“Frye,” Charlie called out in his best command voice. “We have you outgunned and out-manned! You have no cover and we have superior weapons. Stand down.” This was not a suggestion, it was an order.

“Charlie? Is that you? Come outside and let’s talk.”

“Stand down Colonel. Weapons down. I will fire.”

“Ok Charlie. We’re at ease. Come on out.”

“Johnson! We clear?”

“Clear Sir. I have Frye.”

Charlie walked out, one eye watching through the ACOG scope, the other focusing on targets. If any of them moved, it would be the last time. Charlie walked in a near crouch, sideways to present the smallest target, keeping Frye in his sights.

“What are you thinking? We’re on the same side here,” said Bookbinder.

“We didn’t know who you were, we were just protecting ourselves,” he replied calmly.

“Johnson, did you discharge your weapon?”

“No sir, your orders were last resort only. When I saw Frye’s men watching us from the road across that field, I waved to them. At that, they mounted up and came at me weapons hot. Seeing as I was by myself out here, I thought it wise to find cover. That’s when you came out.”

“Frye, get in your truck. Turn around and go back to your base. If you approach another of my men with weapons drawn, they have orders to fire.” Bookbinder ordered. “Johnson, did you hear that?”

“Sir, yes sir. Fire at will.” replied Johnson.

“Go now Frye. You may come by the farm tomorrow at noon if you’d like to discuss this incident with my command. Do not make the mistake of spying on us again.” Charlie backed away from the fence as Frye and his men got in their truck, backed out of the spot and took off.

“Garrett, Hostetler, stand down!” Bookbinder called without turning towards the building.

“Sir, yes sir.” Garrett and Hostetler stood up from their prone positions on the roof.

“What’s the situation up there boys?”

“Radio amplifier and broadcast antenna are disassembled, ready to be lowered down, sir.”

“Nice work fellas. Really top notch work here today,” replied Bookbinder.

“Johnson, did you see anything else out of the ordinary?”

“Sir, we had attracted a few zombies, ten or 15 standing at the fence. No real worry, none were near the gate or making any move to go. About ten minutes before I saw Frye, they turned their heads and started walking off that way.”

“That’s the propane depot,” replied Bookbinder.

“Men! Double time!” yelled Bookbinder, running inside to grab the swat truck. Something’s wrong, he thought. Frye showing up, zombies heading towards Tookes and crew. His soldiers sense told him something was wrong. A few seconds after that, he heard Tookes’ voice in his head say “There are 200 more coming and maybe more behind that. I suggest we go to weapons and end this.”

Bookbinder broke into a run, heading for the swat truck. When he got there, Johnson right on his heels, Dalton Reineer was just finishing loading all of the weapons, ammo and racks into the truck. Bookbinder hit the garage door opener, hopped in and started the engine. He backed it three quarters of the way out of the garage bay and put the truck in park. He climbed up the ladder on the back of the truck as Garrett handed him the first piece of the antenna assembly. Bookbinder then it handed down to Johnson on the ground. They handed the six pieces of the assembly off the roof, then Hostetler and Garrett jumped down onto the roof of the truck. Reineer backed out of the shop with them on the roof, when they passed the Explorer they came in, he stopped the truck so they could jump off the roof.

They parked about a hundred yards from the propane depot. While they were jogging towards the gate, they heard a big truck engine roar to life. They passed a huge group of zombies, maybe 1000 or more coming from way off in a field below the depot. They crossed the last few yards to the propane depot and saw the four of them, the group they called “Command” lined up like a group of super heroes making their last stand.

Leo was a joy to watch. Marshall was fearless, wading into groups of zombies, keeping them at bay with those massive hammers he carried. John was the best gunman Bookbinder had ever seen and of course Tookes. Charlie hadn’t quite figured out how Tookes was still alive, but he’d gotten the best of Watley and the best of that teleporting zombie at the battle on the front lawn, so he had to have something. He was a good leader and Bookbinder respected him.

M1 advanced in the sideways crouch that they’d practiced. They walked in a straight line. At twenty five yards they took aim and fired. From then it was just aim, fire, aim, fire. They killed all the zombies before they made it up to Tookes’ team.

“There are at least a thousand more that all turned their heads this way right before we heard that first engine start up. We need to get out of here,” said Bookbinder, noting they had both big trucks running now.

Chapter 6
A New Mission

After we all got home from our scavenging, Leo and I cleaned and processed the deer that John shot on the way home from the propane depot and delivered two days worth of meat to Mom in the kitchen.

“Oh, Victor, thank you so much.” Mom said, hugging Leo and I as we delivered the almost 120 lbs worth of processed deer.

“No problem, Mom. How are you doing otherwise? You’re feeding so many. The least we can do is process a couple of deer. We also brought a bunch of propane.”

“Mrs. Tookes, Vic, I’m going to go take a lap around the property and then settle in on the porch with some water. It’s been a busy day.” Leo said.

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “See you later babe. Stay safe out there. Thanks for your help with the deer”

“Bye hun, don’t’ take any chances,” said Mom.

“John and Marshall are filling the tank now. They think they’ve brought enough propane to fill our underground tank three times.” I said.

“That gives us nearly a month’s worth of propane! You guys are amazing,” she said.

“Mom, we’re just doing what we need to in order to get by. Eventually we’re going to have to move away from propane for cooking.”

“If John and Marshall were right, there’s enough propane to get us through a couple of years at the depot. It’s not like gasoline, it doesn’t go bad,” she said.

“Sure, but three or four years from now, that’ll be all the propane,” I replied.

“Victor, there are times to think about four years from now and times to think about making it until tomorrow. Which time is this?”

“You’re right Mom; I guess I’m getting ahead of myself. What do you need?”

“We need all those folks down at the barn to have a clean place to go to the bathroom and a place to shower. We’re washing clothes in the river. We’re going to need some pretty serious sanitation facilities. We have a huge septic system here, but it can’t handle this kind of load.”

“I don’t know anything about septic or sewer systems, for 10,000 years people crapped in holes,” I said.

“And they died of things like dysentery and bubonic plague, Victor.”

“Ok, so we need a sewer system.” I replied dryly.

“We also need security here. We need people to feel like they have a home. We need people to feel safe to walk outside and let the children be children. We need a big wall. It’ll give people something to do. It will be good to have a community goal.”

“What kind of wall?”

“Well, about three miles south, past the Thompson River, there is a quarry. I think we need a stone wall. And we need it big. I’m think it’s going to take 7000 acres to feed this many people and give us room to grow. I did some sketching, here’s what I know of the fields around and seven farms that we would incorporate.”

She slid me a topological map of the area, with a red line drawn around a huge section of land. There were marks all over the map, highlighting fields and optimal growth areas, housing areas, food storage, roads, everything. She’d designed a small city, inside a fortified wall.

Next she slid me a photograph of the Great Wall of China.

“Did you know the inside of the great wall is hollow? The guards on the walls can sleep inside the wall and then walk along the top of it like a highway.” It was also wide enough to put a horse cart on. We’re not defending against smart zombies with this. I knew that eventually we would kill all of the smart ones. This wall would be built to defend against the hundreds of millions of slow zombies within two hundred miles of here.

Mom continued, “I’ve outlined what I think are the places we should start, using natural barriers to keep us as safe as possible during the construction. It will also serve as a way to keep our resources at hand. There’s a huge herd of buffalo just south of Charlottesville. If we can bring twenty of them here, we can restart that herd inside the wall. We can keep a mixed herd of five hundred on the Anderson farm. They have a thousand acres in two pastures. One of them I want to keep for bison and keep cows in the other.”

“Mom, this is amazing. I don’t even know how to get started on a project like this. I wish Renee was here.”

My sister Renee never made it to the house. She and her husband had been on the way on the night I arrived, but we never heard from them again. We seldom talked about them. They had two small children, Max’s cousins. Before the end of the world Renee had been a project manager for a large construction company dealing with logistics and time lines on huge construction projects. This kind of thing was her specialty.

“I miss her too Victor.” Mom said, her eyes misting up a little bit.

“Ok, Mom. What do you think is the first step?”

“Immediately, we need to get this wall thing started. The property has no defense from the north east. I know you shut down the road there, but anything could come on foot or by four-wheel drive. While we’re building the wall, we need to get temporary living arranged, get some sanitation in place and get some sort of food stores tucked in for the winter. It’s going to be a long winter and its already September. The garden is almost done.”

“Do you think a greenhouse would help? We could head down to that nursery between here and Fredericksburg, disassemble one and bring it back.”

“It would still be spring before any yield. This winter is going to be canned vegetables.”

“Where do you think I can get enough canned vegetables? We’re going to need two tractor trailer loads of cans to get this group through the winter and into the spring growing season.”

“Our restaurant food supplier was out of Charlottesville. There’s a large Sysco warehouse there. I think we could get enough from them, but Charlottesville is a pretty big city. There are going to be lots of zombies there.”

“Killing zombies I can handle. We’re pretty good at that,” I replied.

“So, my priorities are set for tomorrow. I’ll see who we have down at the barn that can step up and take charge of the wall. I’ll organize one team to go scout Charlottesville. I’ll send another team to check out the buffalo farm, we’re going to need a couple of large trucks and trailers. We’re out of diesel, but I found a pretty good supply, enough to fill our tank. Marshall, John, Leo and I will handle the rest of the fuel problems.”

It was well after dark now. Mom and I had been talking for almost an hour. I grabbed the radio base station and called a staff meeting.

By the time everyone arrived, it was almost 9:30pm. With measures in place to save power and candles being limited, most of the whole colony went to sleep shortly after dark. It was too hot to keep a fire going in the fireplace just for light. I hung a battery powered lantern from the chandelier in the small dining room and went over my whole previous conversation.

“That’s a huge project, mate,” John said, looking at the plans for the wall. “How are you going to transport that much stone here?”

“I’m not sure yet John, logistics isn’t really my strong suit.”

“You know I was a bloody miner before the end of the world, right mate? Moving earth is my thing. If they’ve got a couple of huge dump trucks, we can haul it here and dump it.”

“That’s a ton of fuel, John. I don’t know the top speed of those trucks, but I’m not sure there’s enough fuel left to do it. I think we’re going to have to go back further than that. My thought was a pair of four-wheelers dragging a flat bottomed barge up the river. I’m by no means an expert.”

“That could work, but I don’t think a four-wheeler could drag more than a couple stones, even on a floating barge. It’s going to take something pretty massive.”

” I agree with Mom that this is something we’re going to have to do. We might need to find flatbed trailers and tractors to haul the stone. They get around thirteen miles per gallon under load, that would be two gallons of diesel each way, eight gallons per day hauling. Let’s table the details for now. Charlie, do we have any logistical people in our colony?”

“One last point mate, one of the women down the hill was a horse trainer. I think it makes the most sense to use horses to drag the stones on wagons or up the river on barges. In the UK, the gypsies still use draft horses to pull their barges down the canals. If we can find the right types of horses, I’m sure we can make a go of it,” said John.

“Sir, there are a couple of construction workers in the mix, but I’ve only really polled those who had working jobs that seemed valuable. I’ll find out about someone with logistics experience.”

“Thanks Charlie,” I said. “Now, let’s move on to more pressing matters. We’re going to have harder scavenging tomorrow. We need diesel, that’s our primary goal. We need food. Its September already, winter is coming and we need a ton of canned food. We can find meat and keep it fresh, but vegetables and starches we’re going to need lots of. Mom and I figured two tractor trailer loads of cans and dry goods. There’s a Sysco warehouse in Charlottesville off Rio Rd, I need someone to reconnoiter that and get us a general feeling of what kind of shape Charlottesville is in.”

“Are you and your team taking one of those runs Tookes?” asked Charlie.

“We’ve got other plans, Charlie. Other than diesel, these are strictly recon, in and out, quiet and clean.”

“Yes sir. Quiet and clean. We’ll bring back a fuel and if possible a truck load of food.”

“Thanks Charlie. I appreciate your efforts, you’re a good leader and I’m lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Replied Bookbinder, getting up from the table. ”I’ll deliver the orders to the men. We won’t let you down. If that is all, I’m going to get some rack time.”

I nodded and stayed seated while Charlie headed out to his cottage to get some sleep.

“We have a lot to do here. Marshall and I have to finish the power generation on the roof of the barn, so we can put the police band radio repeater up there. Leo and John, I’d like you two to go down to the river.”

“Ok,” they said together.

“Find the old mill race and the old dam. The dam was knocked over a hundred years ago, but the stones should all still be there. I think that those stones are what created that little white water area where the mill race left the river. I want to rebuild that damn, to be able to divert water down the mill race. We’re going to need to rebuild that mill and also I have some ideas for hydroelectric power generation.”

“Vic, is there anything you don’t know about?” asked Marshall.

“I know a little bit about a lot of things, but a lot about very few things. What I do know is that there is a whole library in Culpeper and I bet I can find all the information I lack. Power generation is actually a simple thing. Turn magnets inside of copper coil and you get electricity.”

“Tomorrow we’re taking a little break, I know I could use a day to finish projects and I hope you three will take the time to do something fun and productive. Life can’t be all about zombies. All zombie killing and no play makes John a dull boy. Let’s go to bed.”

The next morning I rolled over and woke Leo right at dawn with a kiss.

“Good morning dragon breath.” I said grinning.

“Me?” She asked incredulously, “You really should make toothpaste a scavenging priority. This baking soda we’re using isn’t doing much for you either.”

I threw my arms around her and kissed her again, squeezing her to me.

“We have a lot to do today and it’s going to be a long day. Let’s go help Mom with the breakfast and get to work.”

Leo and I helped Mom and her two kitchen helpers Sarah and Eveline prepare enough oatmeal for the locals. We took four of her largest stock pots down to the camp wrapped in bath towels to keep them warm and dished oatmeal to anyone who wanted. I always tried to fill the bowls of the skinniest people a little extra. When we were done, it was almost 6:30.

“It’s amazing how quickly we adjusted to not having much electricity. It’s amazing how quickly we changed from being awake until midnight to getting up at 5:15 with the sun and going to bed early, just a few hours after dark.” I remarked.

As we were finishing up stacking the dishes, I felt an odd twinge at the back of my skull. It made me think of Max, Max was awake upstairs. I focused on Max’s baby blue aura. “Max, can you hear me?” I thought quietly.

“Yes Daddy. The army man is coming. He will be here in a few minutes, you should listen to him.”

“I will listen.”

“Leo, can you go get Marshall, John and Charlie? Frye is coming and I need to hear what he’s going to tell me.

“Vic, how do you know?” She replied.

“I can, uhh, see his aura coming.” I lied, as Leo took off to get the others.

I grabbed my gear, which I’d decided to keep on top of the book case at the central stairwell of the house, strapped on my vest and headed down to the gates. We were sitting there waiting when Frye and his men pulled up. They parked two vehicles as they always did, both pointing at the gate.

Frye knew that I wasn’t intimidated. He knew that I wasn’t afraid of him; I think this must be a standard military protocol. It made good sense, I suppose, if you were heading to a meeting with a hostile force. I wasn’t necessarily hostile. We were technically on the same side. I just didn’t trust him. He must have felt the same way about me and who knows what his men thought of me. Frye dismounted his truck and strode over to me.

“Colonel Frye. Good of you to drop by, I trust we won’t need to repeat the last visit?”

“Tookes, I have intel.” Frye said without a hint of red slashes in his aura.

“Are you going to share all of it? Or are you holding something back? I don’t really trust you, Colonel.”

“Yesterday evening I got a coded radio message from the pentagon. There are one hundred fifty civilians and fifty military personnel being held prisoner by infected at the Department of Defense building in Germantown, MD. It’s about two hours from here. Among the civilians is a research scientist from the CDC that has an idea about how to make us immune to the infection.”

“How many are holding them?” I asked.

“At least two hundred infected. Our scout got back at daylight. He reported ten smart ones, including two that can fly.”

“What kind of weapons do they have? What can you tell me about the DOD building?”

“Standard military issue, assault rifles, a couple of fifty’s, body armor. I’m unsure of their ammunition status, but there was a depot there before the outbreak. Germantown was the scene of some pretty serious fighting, the marines made their last stand there. They may have tapped into that ammunition depot.”

“These supers, specifically the flying ones, do they have any other powers that we know? I assume they’re fast, all of them seem to be faster than normal humans.” I asked.

“I have no intel on their abilities other than that they can fly.”

“What am I to do with them once they are free?” I asked. I couldn’t take two hundred more people in our settlement just yet, but I didn’t really want Frye to know that.

“They’re to be relocated to my facility. There are also two other goals to the mission. Doctor Jerry Roberts is the CDC expert. He says the supers took his research; we’d really like to have that data. Secondly, if you can recover the ammunition in that depot, I’ll give you half of it as payment for services rendered.”

“I’ll do it, but I’m keeping everything I can recover. Whatever it is, vehicles, ammunition, equipment, whatever I recover is mine. I’ll deliver the soldiers and civilians to you.”

“Tookes, that’s property of the US military.” Flashes of purple invaded his aura, purple tended to mean someone was ready to fight, or was feeling very strongly about something. I started watching for shadows to shoot out of Frye.

“That’s the price. You need us to do this for you, or you wouldn’t have come at all. If you want me to save these people for you, it has to benefit me.” I said. I would have done it just to save the humans being held. But if I could benefit from it as well, then that’s even better.”

“Alright. When can you leave?” asked Frye “I’ll need to let my contacts know when you’re going to be there so they can lend support.”

“Frye, condition two of my agreement. If I see any of your men, I am going to shoot them.”

“Tookes, you’re going to need help. Even with your abilities, you can’t take on this many.”

“If I need help, it’ll come from my own men.”

“Ok, but I think you’re making a mistake. I’ll order my men to stand down.”

“We’ll leave tonight Colonel. I’ll have your men back to you within 48 hours,” I said.

“Let’s go get ready,” I said to my own team. “It appears we’re not going to get the day off.”

Chapter 7
Renee

The mood was somber sitting around the dining room table. Questions were flying and I had no answers.

John asked, “Tookes, why are we doing this?”

“I don’t know. It’s the right thing to do.”

Marshall was next to ask, “Vic, how are we going to get them back to Culpeper?”

“I’m thinking Buses.”

Leo chimed in, “Victor, how are we going to pull this off? Ten supers, four of us.”

“Leo, I don’t know. Teamwork I suppose. Together we are more than we are apart. Guys, I don’t know how this is going to work. I know I have to do it.” I don’t know why I was afraid to tell them it was because Max told me so.

“Charlie, we’re going to need your team.”

“Sir, we’ll be there.”

Charlie had a look in his eyes like he thought I’d finally lost it. I knew the odds as well as he did. A well entrenched enemy playing defense can withstand an invading force at greater than ten to one odds. Look at Thermopylae. Seven thousand Spartans fought off 300,000 invaders. We were nine people, attempting to invade a secure top secret clearance level US government facility, being held by ten super human creatures and two hundred blood thirsty ghouls.

“We have a few advantages. They don’t know we’re coming. We’re fast, strong, accurate and decisive. We are fighting for the survival of our species. They may be dug into that building, but this is our planet and this scientist may have the best chance of making us all immune to the bugs. Imagine what we could do if we were all immune.”

With that, I began to lay out our plan of attack. We spent the next four hours hashing out the details, much of which we spent bemoaning the lack of Google maps. Life was so much easier before all of this. It was the little things I missed, like being able to instantly pull up a satellite view of almost any place in the world.

With our plan in place, we broke from the table about 10:30 in the morning and headed off to try and sleep. It was going to be a long night; we were rolling out at 8pm.

I went down to the settler’s area at the old barn to check on Max. There were a handful of children here. One of the settlers, Nancy Frederickson had set up the old barn office as a school house. The kids were all playing in the riding ring. They were climbing on the horse jumps and using it like an obstacle course. Kids could have fun anywhere.

“Ms. Frederickson, good morning.” I said as I walked up to where she was leaning against the fence.

“Good morning Mr. Tookes. Max is such a delight!”

“Please, just Tookes, or Victor.” I said.

“Thank you. Thank you for what you’ve done here, thank you for making the children here have a sense of normalcy. That’s a huge contribution and one I’d like to support you in as fully as I can. In all honesty, we’re focused primarily on getting us through this winter and the early spring right now, but once we have enough food and energy stored to make it through a long winter, I want you to know that your school is very high on my list. Anything you need, I’ll do my very best to find. If we have anything here that you need to appropriate, feel free. I assume you’ve been through my mother’s library, but if there are specific topics you need books or materials for, I’ll do my best to find them for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tookes. For everything you’re doing. I don’t know much about farming, so anything you can find that relates to a more agrarian lifestyle. Things like growing crops, canning, preserving food, horsemanship, we can use anything like that. My goal is to have these kids ready to help by spring planting time, even if it’s in small ways, every hand will help and there’s no learning like hands on learning. Even if that guy you’re going to save tonight can make us all immune, the population of the world has been decimated. It will be several generations before we’re able to return to a life like we had in the 1950's, let alone 2011.”

“Nancy, I believe you’re absolutely right. I’m not sure that we as a people want to go back to where we were in 2011; maybe the next generations can do it better than we did. Maybe this is our chance to reset the planet. With all of the abandoned solar panels out there now and wind mills and hydro-electric power generation capabilities, maybe once we’ve destroyed these parasites, we can advance in harmony with the Earth, not trying to harness it. These kids are going to need a lot of knowledge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

We sat there in silence for a long time while I watched Max play. His baby blue aura made him stand out easily to me, even when he was hiding from the other kids in a game of hide and seek.

“Hi Max. I’m proud of you.” I said to him with my thoughts.

“I’m proud of you too daddy,” he replied.

“Max, can you talk to anyone this way? Or is it just to me?”

“I like to talk with my mouth like everyone else.”

“I do too, but this is nice if we are far apart. Do you know how far apart we can be and still talk?”

“I talked to Mr. John’s brother this morning. He was silly; he said it was night time there. He talks just like Mr. John.”

“You did what? Where is John’s brother?” I asked.

“He’s at Mr. John’s house with Mr. John’s kids and their mommy. It isn’t safe for them there, so I told them to go somewhere else. Mr. John is very worried about his family. Would it be OK if I told Mr. Sean to come here, Daddy?”

“Max, it’s a long way. Remember when we got on an airplane to go see Papa at the beach? Mr. John’s family would have to be on a plane for a whole day. If you tell them to come here, it would be very dangerous for them. It might be better if we get them to some place safe where they are.”

“OK Dad, I’ll tell them to go somewhere where it’s safe.” Max replied.

“Max, do you know what we’re going to do tonight?”

“I think so. I heard you talking to Miss Nancy, you’re going to go find a man who can make everyone like us?”

I briefly pondered how Max could have heard that. And what else he might have overheard, if his hearing is that good.

“I’m going to try, yes. Do you know anything about this man? Or where were going?”

“No. Only that the army man is sending you and he didn’t tell you everything.” Replied Max. ”He never tells everything.”

“But you don’t know what he didn’t tell?”

“No. He is hard to understand. He doesn’t see things like everyone else, he’s very mad all the time.”

“Why is he so mad, Max?” I asked.

“I don’t know, he just is. I think he’s always mad.”

“Anything else I should know about tonight?”

“I love you Daddy.”

“I’ll always love you Maxmonster! You’re my favorite little boy.”

“Dad, who’s Vern?”

“Vern? I don’t know, where did you hear that name?”

“Baby Haley’s mommy told me I should say “Hi Vern!” to you.

“You talked to Aunt Renee? How is she? Where is she? What has she been doing?” I asked, particularly quickly before I remembered that Max was really just three and a half years old and didn’t know how huge that was.

“She is good. They got in a car crash on the way here with some bad guys. Uncle Eddie got turned into a badguy when he went to help them. Aunt Renee killed him. Baby Haley and Maria are Ok, they had their buckles on. Aunt Renee has been trying to get them here, but there are too many bad guys between us.”

Holy shit! I thought. Renee and the kids were alive? They were stuck somewhere between here and Atlanta? I have to go get them. I need her here. Mom needs her, Marshall needs her, we all need her.

“Max, you have to tell me if anyone else ever talks to you. When did you talk to Aunt Renee?”

“Just last night Daddy, while I was asleep. I forgot to tell you at breakfast, sorry. I haven’t talked to anyone else.”

“Ok son. I love you one million and nine. I’ll see you tomorrow OK? Be good for Gramma and brush your teeth tonight Ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“OK, I will.”

I walked back up the hill a little ways, more confused than ever. He talked to John’s brother in Australia? How is that possible? Why does that seem less possible than the fact that I just had a whole conversation with him? How can he have a conversation with me in his mind and a conversation with someone else with his mouth at the same time? He was able to run and jump while we talked, but I had to stand there with my eyes closed and hold on to the fence. He is an amazing kid, I thought to myself as I walked up to my room to try and get a few hours sleep before we left.

After we got back from this particular run, Marshall and I would go get Renee. If Max could talk to her, I’d be able to find her. I’d never seen her aura, but if I got close I’m sure I could pick it out. Renee was my baby sister.

Chapter 8
Sporting Goods

At 8am, the four of us and M1 loaded up into four SUV’s. I caught myself oddly wishing that we could find matching uniforms and trucks. Of all the things I had to worry about, I was thinking about finding matching vehicles. Marshall had been out earlier to top them all off with gasoline out of our cans. This trip was going to cost us a fair amount of fuel and that was a limited resource. We needed to start acquiring diesel vehicles.

“Get your head in the game, Tookes.” I said to myself out loud.

“You OK, Vic?” asked Marshall

“Yea; I had a conversation with Max this morning, he doesn’t think Frye told us everything, but neither of us knows what he left out. I could tell Frye didn’t lie to me at all, which means he’s left something out, but I specifically asked him if he told me everything and he didn’t lie when he said he did.” I replied.

We drove through an eerily quiet Culpeper. We were driving about forty miles per hour, saving fuel and trying to make as little noise as possible. It’s astounding how much noise we’re used to, four months later it’s still odd not to hear it. I wondered it Max would ever remember the hustle and bustle of everyday life before zombies. I kind of hoped not. There were a lot of things I missed, but I was looking forward to this life when this all settled down.

Building the wall was an exciting idea. I’d been mulling it over in the back of my mind; I used the first part of the trip tonight working it out in my head. It kept me from dwelling too much on what we were going to do and kept my nerves in check. The trick to me was to build in phases. If we could mine and transport 16 cubic foot blocks, 48 inches square, I think they’d weigh about a ton each. That’s about the lifting limit of our equipment and more than enough to stop anything the zeds could throw against it. Renee would know what kind of footers we’d need. She’d know how to mix the concrete we’d need, how to transport all of this. She is the key to building this wall.

I hadn’t told Marshall that she was still alive; I didn’t want him to be as distracted as I was. For this mission, we had four key objectives. First, we needed ammunition and magazines. In Warrenton, there was a huge sportsman’s store. That was our first objective tonight; breach the store, clear and load out. Our shopping list was pretty simple. Camouflage clothes and backpacks and hunting vests. Radios, if we can find throat or shoulder microphones, all the better, but we only had six radios and there were nine of us. I was looking for an upgrade to Sammie, although I was unlikely to find a better scope, I was looking for a night vision version. In fact, I wanted everyone to have something night vision, either goggles or a scope. And John wanted a telescope for some reason. Lastly, we needed bullets. We need lots and lots of bullets.

When we pulled into the sporting goods store, the parking lot had a few cars and a couple of trucks. The windows were intact and it was dark inside, which were good signs. Marshall reversed our truck until the rear bumper was touching the building; Charlie did the same on the opposite side of the door. John and Reineer pulled their trucks up, like the roof on a house, effectively sealing the door.

Charlie pulled out his halligan and strode to the door, while the rest of us hunkered down on the far sides of our vehicles, creating a pen for any zombies inside. Charlie shook the doors and banged on the glass with the handle of his halligan and we waited. First one hand appeared out of the gloom inside and pushed on the door, then more and more. Charlie stuck his face against the glass, laughing, banging on the door, teasing the zombies inside.

“That’s good, get out of there, Charlie.” Said Marshall as Charlie headed back to the truck, vaulting over the hood.

John fired two rounds, blowing the deadbolt locks out of the doors. The press of zed’s pushed the doors all the way open. We opened fire. Almost every corpse that fell out of the building was wearing hunting clothes. I wondered how long they’d managed to survive before one got to them.

I couldn’t help but think about these people, holed up in a sporting goods store, doing their best to survive. One of them gets bitten out on a raid and hides the bite and turns an hour later after getting through whatever security they’d set up. I wondered what their story was. I wondered if any of them had kept a diary or journal as we cut them down leaving their prison. All in all we ended thirty-one shambling, half eaten, rotten corpses. When we worked out this process, we’d placed a lot of emphasis on not breaking the windows. We had managed to control our fire such that we didn’t break a single window although the checkout counter right inside the doorway was pretty well decimated.

Our breach procedure worked perfectly. John and Reineer pulled their trucks out of the way, opening up the doorway, as the rest of us pulled the rotten, putrid smelling corpses out of the doorway and off to the middle of the lot. Our goal was to leave this place secured, so that we could easily come back if we had to and have a reasonable assurance that it would remain clear.

Inside the store we all took out our flashlights and started an isle by isle clearing. The back doors were barricaded securely from the inside. The smell of rotten flesh was pretty strong, but not as bad as I expected. I came around the corner past the isle of kayaks, face to chest with a massive corpse that was reaching for me over the gun counter. My gun raised to its head level before I realized the gigantic thing was trapped back there. I exhaled as I took my finger off the trigger and found my way to the folding section of counter.

“Got one, he’s a big fucker. I’m dragging him outside before I kill it, clear the isles, get down and don’t distract him.” I said into my radio.

I paced back and forth in front of the counter. Everywhere I went, he followed. As long as I stayed a foot or so back from the counter, which came just above his waist, he couldn’t get to me. I went all the way to one wall, then ran for the middle, flipped the counter top up and said “Come and get me!” as I backed away. I had about a ten foot lead when he made it to the opening of the counter, but his arm hit the countertop as he rounded the corner, flipping it back down.

I reset once again, this time on the other side. Once again I ran to the middle, flipped up the counter and backed off about ten feet. The giant ghoul was missing half of its thigh; it dragged its bad leg like a prop behind it. Drag and step. Drag and step. It was easy enough to stay ahead of it. I walked backwards out the door, pulling my hatchet out of the loop on my pack as I walked. I waited for it to catch me at the pile of corpses and when it reached for me as they all do, I side-stepped and smashed it skull in with the hatchet. The newly de-animated corpse landed face-down on top of the pile.

After a quick mental kudos on how well that went, a decision-shadow appeared in front of me, reaching for my throat. I barely had time to react, swinging my hatchet for the hand that would be at my throat when the swirling black smoke appeared in front of me. My hatchet removed the things hand before the monster teleported away again. I heard a scream from way off in the distance behind me and looked around for it, trying to find either the creature or a sign of where it was going to appear. I spun slowly in a circle, sig in my left hand, hatchet in my right. I backed in a crouch, turning slowly until I was back inside the store.

“There’s a smart one outside, now wounded. He teleported off, but I don’t think he’s gone. He’s going to want a little payback for the hand I removed.”

John came out to the front door.

“You cured his clap? Nice work mate! Now you play bait and I’ll reel in the zombie cod. Just don’t get your tackle mangled.”

“Tackle? What?”

“It’ll be easy. Go draw him out!” replied John, who had to be tired of explaining his slang to me.

I stepped slowly outside, repeating the same movements I had last time, hoping to make him think I was leading another zombie out. A shadow appeared to my left. The black swirl cleared as John fired, the zombie’s head exploded before the smoke had a chance to clear.

“Nice shot there John.”

“Bloody oath.” he replied. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, a second before a hand grabbed me and a bullet whizzed by my ear. As the black smoke swirled around me, I noticed the zombie on the ground had both hands.

I felt intense cold, then the smoke cleared around me and I was in the middle of a field well off from the store.

“That the best you can do?” I asked.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said as we circled.

“What did I do to you? I was just looking for some clothes when you attacked me!” I said.

“You killed my soldiers. I don’t appreciate that.”

“They would have killed me and besides, you can make more easily enough.”

“Starting with you!” He said, lunging for me.

I knew this was coming; I didn’t even need my ability to see it. This guy was what we’d call a ‘smart zombie’, but I didn’t get the feeling he was all that smart.

I dodged to the side, swung the sig around and blew a hole in his remaining hand. I used the gun partially to give John and idea where I was and partially because it happened to be in my left hand.

“What’s your name guy?” I asked.

He held up his hand and we watched the hole close up. “Harry Gould. I was going to turn you, but now I think I’m just going to eat you.”

Faster this time, he came for my throat, his mouth open, coming for my nose. I hit him in the head with the back of the hatchet, stunning him and giving me a second to get free.

“Are you the head of the zombies around here?”

“Darryl and I are heading down to Culpeper to take care of some group of humans who have been giving our boss some trouble. It looks like we’ll get to report that we took out two groups of humans. Well, I will, since you killed Darryl.”

We were still circling each other. This guy was either really dumb or way smarter than I was giving him credit for. Why was he talking? Why was he waiting for my backup to arrive?

“Harry, what’s your boss’s name?”

Shadows danced in front of me. The best move for him was a leg sweep. That ended with me on my back and him on top of me. As that option started to solidify, I focused on the shadow that grabbed for my left wrist, willing him to choose that one. The leg sweep shadow evaporated and the wrist grab shadow became his choice.

He grabbed for my wrist just as I brought the blunt side of the hatched down on his forearm, shattering his fore arm bones and leaving his arm bent at a crazy angle. He howled in pain as he backed off, sticking his arm between his thighs and using his legs to pull it straight again. He held it up over his head as the bones knitted back together. The stump of what had been his other hand had grown into a knob and fingers were starting to sprout from it. A few more minutes and I could chop it off again.

“Her name is Laura Watson. She was the first one on that boat outside of Baltimore. She’s pretty pissed off about how much trouble we’ve had in this area.” Harry said.

I reached down and holstered the sig. While I was doing that, I flipped the radio to voice activated instead of push to talk.

“Harry. I’m going to let you live. By now my friends are in range and they never miss. You can be dead where you’re standing, or you can go. Which would you prefer?”

Again shadows danced in front of me. I focused on the one lunging for my throat with his almost healed hand. It solidified, even though it was the worst choice for him and I cut off his hand for a second time with one solid swing.

“We’re too far away for your friends to be here yet.” Harry said, shoving his fresh stump into his armpit. I immediately noticed a red dot appear on his chest. “Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”

“Look down. That would hurt even more” I said coolly.

When he saw the red dot, his attitude changed drastically.

“Why would you let me live?” he asked.

“I’ll let you live, if you meet two conditions. Number 1, tell me where Laura is. Number 2; give her a message for me.”

“Mister, you’re crazy. She’ll kill you. She doesn’t even have to touch you; she can kill you with her mind.”

“Then I’m sure she won’t mind if you tell me where she is.”

“She’s in Australia right now. That’s the last continent we’re taking over, the people there gave us a little trouble, but we mostly have that wrapped up. Damned Australians gave us more trouble than all of Asia.”

“Ok. Here’s the message. Tell Laura, My name is Victor Tookes. I claim all land from the former state of Virginia south along the coast, all the way to everything that is currently Florida. She can have the rest of the world, but the lower east coast is mine. If she agrees, she is to pull every zombie and super out of my territory immediately and my people won’t travel outside those lines. If she doesn’t agree, I will hunt her down and end her miserable existence. There’s nothing in those states she can’t get somewhere else. This is non negotiable.”

“You’re Tookes?” asked Harry, clearly frightened. That reaction gave me no small amount of pleasure.

“I am. If your people continue to harass me and my family, I will end every one of you. You sent 15,000 zombies to my house. You sent super after super to my house. I have killed everything that you’ve thrown in my path and I won’t rest until this world is safe for my family. Are we clear Harry? I will end your kind, once and for all time.”

“I got it. I’ll tell her. But you’re just going to make her mad,” he said and then the swirling black smoke appeared covering his escape.

“Bring it!” I said over subspace, loud enough for everything within twenty miles to hear.

“Tookes, you’re mad as a meat axe,” said John, walking up.

“I know mate.”

Leo came walking out of the bushes holding a laser pointer. ”I was playing with this in the store when he took you. I guess I still had it in my hand when I got here. It seemed like Harry was a few Holdens short of a carpark.”

We all chuckled about Leo running off a super zombie with a laser pointer as we finished gathering our supplies from the sporting goods store. I loaded up 24 50 round boxes of 30.06 ammunition, as well as the score of the night, ten magazines for the assault rifles we found at the police station and an astounding amount of .223 ammunition for them, almost 2000 rounds. We’d taken all the magazines we had, leaving those at home without assault rifles, so these ten more brought us to four thirty round magazines each. I outfitted Sammie with new night vision glass. It wasn’t as powerful of a scope, but being able to see in the dark made it worth the tradeoff. I hoped I didn’t need to shoot from a mile away anyways.

Everyone had new 9mm handguns. John now wore four Glock 9mm guns, two on his vest and two in leather shoulder holsters. He had his revolver on his hip old west style and he’d attached mollee style tabs to the back of his vest, where he had ten 17 round magazines secured. He was a monster in a firefight, with 91 rounds in his assault rifle and 174 in his pistols and his ability, he could kill every zombie we expected at the DOD by himself.

Marshall, who had always favored a shotgun found two new Banelli m4 semi automatic short barrel pistol grip models. I had no doubt he was strong enough to fire them from each hand. We were like kids in a candy store, loading up carts with everything useful. We filled the SUV’s up with as much as we could, before we chained the doors and threw on a combination padlock we’d found up at the register.

Even Leo picked up a rifle. She’d been working with John and decided she wanted a Ruger 10/22. The ammunition was light. A full thirty round magazine weighed less than ten bullet’s for my 30.06. The rifle was a perfect fit for her. We managed to find a shoulder strap with a quick release that held the rifle tight to her back when she was running and allowed the slack to swing it up to her shoulder with the flip of a buckle. Between that and the 9mm pistols she had strapped to her thighs and her curved short swords, she was the image of re-death.

At least if we didn’t have matching trucks, we all had matching gear on. Full jungle digital camouflage cargo pants, boots, shirts, vests, jackets and hats. The pattern was dark green squares, with lighter greens and khaki colors, designed to blend in to any type of jungle environment. We cleared and checked all of our new fire arms, loaded magazines and attached red-dot hand grips to our new 9mm pistols. Marshall had grabbed some face black, the last thing we did was paint our faces as we entered Germantown, MD.

I chuckled to myself as we pulled up to a payphone, four mismatched SUV’s. A man in full camouflage gear loaded for war jumped out, slung a black assault rifle on his back, flipped through the yellow pages, tore a sheet out and jumped back into the SUV in less than thirty seconds. It was the only way we could figure out where to find a greyhound station in Germantown without the internet.

Chapter 9
Greyhound

Dalton got back in the front seat of Charlie’s green ford explorer, holding the yellow pages half page ad for the local greyhound station. It turns out we weren’t very far from the station.

Thank god GPS still worked. We’d all wondered how long our Garmins and Tom Tom’s would continue to work. Following the voice on the Garmin we turned left onto south Main Street in Germantown, where we were to continue for three miles.

Charlie was in the lead, followed by Marshall, Leo and I and John, Dalton and Garrett filling out the rear guard truck. Less than half a block after making our turn, just enough distance for all three trucks to get straightened out on the road, Charlie came to a stop.

We stopped right behind him on his bumper and John pulled right up on our bumper. Someone in Charlie’s SUV leaned out the back passenger side window and started firing his pistol. Marshall and I lept out of our truck and scrambled on the hood, where we saw an amazing sight. A wave of zombies was coming straight towards us, filling both lanes, walking in a solid mass between the parked cars on the side of the road. There was a little room along the sidewalks on the far sides of the parked cars, but the restaurants and bars along this street had fenced off most of the sidewalk, there wasn’t any room to drive on the sidewalks, even if they could get past the solid wall of parked cars.

I’d had a lot of practice guessing numbers of zombies with the assault on the manor house, from the headlights of the trucks, this looked to be about a quarter of each of those waves, somewhere around twelve hundred zombies packing the street.

“Vic, if you’re going to remember how to do that wave of zombie destruction thing, now would be a good time. We’re gonna burn a lot of ammunition on this many zeds.”

“Sorry bro, I got nothin’. I have no idea how I could have killed all those zombies.”

The first of them were almost to Charlie’s truck. There was no time to get in and back up.

“Dismount!” I yelled before opening fire with my H&K. For my first thirty rounds I went full auto, mowing them down to give the ones behind something to trip and stumble over. It worked as a great delaying tactic before. I was hoping that it worked again.

John climbed onto the roof of his truck with a pistol in each hand. I have no idea why he mounted laser handgrips on them; I guess in case one of us used them, he certainly didn’t need them. The gun smoke and lasers made for a cool effect though; watching him shoot was like watching one of those laser light shows. He never actually stopped moving to shoot, the lasers on his guns swept the crowd and then a line of bullet’s hit. Even from this distance, you could tell he was hindered by the slow recycle time of the 9mm’s.

He holstered his 9mm’s as he changed the magazines, a ballet of movement like I’ve never seen. He flipped the H&K assault rifle around, thumbed the selector to full auto and killed thirty zombies. I believe if it weren’t for magazine capacity issues, he could have killed all 3000 of these zombies by himself before the rest of us could fire. What he did do was buy a little time. Enough time for Marshall to get of the truck and walk over to a parked Mercedes 500 SL convertible. He picked it up by the bumper and threw it into the herd of oncoming zombies, grinding them into a smear on the ground. The car slid along on its hood and windshield struts, knocking zombies down like they were pins in a bowling lane.

My coat whipped around me as Leo blew by, swords ready. She followed in the wake of the sports car, swirling dervish style, like a tornado of death blazing through the storm of zombies. She was moving so quickly that she literally disappeared. The only way to see her was to watch zombies fall over headless. I looked back at M1, realizing that except Bookbinder, they’d never seen us fight. Even Charlie hadn’t seen the full effects of what we could do. The men of M1 were just standing there, weapons ready, watching.

They were afraid to fire with Leo in the middle and now Marshall was wading in with a shotgun in each hand. He used them like clubs, occasionally swinging one around and firing buck shot into a zed, before twirling it back around and smashing another zombie with the hard wood stock. I tossed my three H&K mags to john, who was now firing his second set of 9mm pistols, the first set cooling in their holsters. I kept an eye out for any supers and a general idea of the tide of the battle.

Watching Leo was a joy, she was sometimes a little clumsy at normal speed, but at her velocity, she was the epitome of grace. She was brutal, almost feline in her movements. She used all of her limbs, leaping from corpse to corpse, hand-springing and cart-wheeling. Then, something amazing happened. She disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, reappearing several dozen feet further down the road. She poofed again and appeared above a zombie, driving her swords downward into its skull before disappearing again and reappearing over several more. I could watch her learning. I could see ideas flashing across her eyes, ways to use this new ability for maximum damage. She quickly learned she could stay hovering this way, teleporting herself above them, falling a few feet, then teleporting again before she hit the ground.

She appeared next to me, kissed me on the cheek and then was off again. I’m not sure she was any faster at killing this way, but it sure looked like fun. She flew upwards above the buildings leaving a series of black swirls in the air, before falling straight down in a dive. She teleported herself away just before she impacted the pavement; narrowly avoiding a smashed skull.

I looked over at John as he took aim at a street sign. His bullet hit the street sign and either split, or a chunk of street sign flew off, but he killed three zombies with that one bullet. He started pointing his guns wildly, shooting crazy angles, dropping multiple zombies with every bullet. Marshall, not to be outdone, bent down and picked up a manhole cover and threw it at neck level, decapitating an entire line of zombies.

“Tookes, Contact rear!” shouted Charlie. Once again I was grateful for his training; I was standing here all cocky watching us decimate this huge horde of zombies, while a small group came up on us from the rear.

I’d given all my H&K magazines to John, leaving me with two 9mm pistols. I drew one and adjusted to a two handed stance and started methodically popping off rounds. Each of Charlie’s men did the same, kneeling with their H&K assault rifles shouldered, in single shot mode. In between rounds, I picked a fairly fresh looking corpse and focused my will on it. Its intentions were clear, one foot in front of the other, get to the humans, grab them and eat. Just like every other stupid walking corpse. I made it pick the most random choices I could and it started bucking back and forth in some uncoordinated dance. I refocused and gave it a new task. Kill the zombie beside you. Reach for the head, twist it off. The zombie stuttered and I felt a vibration in my head. Once again I focused entirely on that zombie. His eyes were glowing the same blue color as Max’s aura, as he reached over and twisted the head off the shambler beside him.

“Drop the head then step on it.” I commanded.

The disembodied zombie head fell to the ground and rolled about a foot before getting stuck on a bit of spine. My zombie stepped forward and then stepped down on the head, crushing it as it fell backward, smashing its own skull on the pavement. Instantly, the zingy feeling in the back of my head stopped, as I no longer had a connection to that corpse.

In fairly short order, we’d killed the small group of shamblers from the rear. I turned to check on my friends and found them mopping up the last of that group.

Just as the last few zombies fell, a tall skinny blonde in a short skirt and fitted white oxford shirt landed softly behind Bookbinder. She put her hand on his neck. I saw the shadow bite him. I focused all my will on making her step back. She looked me right in the eye and winked as she leaned in to his neck and bit him. I let out a scream; John turned around and fired three shots at the woman. She and Bookbinder disappeared in a hail of smoke and bullet’s.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I yelled.

About a minute later, my radio crackled, “Victor Tookes, is that you?” asked a female voice with a deep southern accent over the radio.

“Who is this?” I demanded.

“My name is Trina. I have your friend Charlie here with me. He was quite delicious. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you. Are you so stupid that you don’t know every time you use your abilities it broadcasts your position to any of us nearby? When your brother threw that car, I felt it from three miles away. When Leo started teleporting all over the place we could feel that. John and his bullet tricks, but the icing on the cake was you taking over one of our soldiers? Its possible Laura felt that in Australia. You’d better hope she didn’t, she’s pretty pissed off at you.”

“Trina, why don’t you come down here and talk to me face to face?” I asked. Anger replaced the shock of the murder of Bookbinder. I knew I would mourn him tomorrow, but there was work to do tonight and going home crying wouldn’t honor his memory.

“I’m not that stupid Tookes. You’re a tough one to kill; I don’t think I could do it by myself. But we’ll get to you. You can’t hide forever.”

“Trina, I promise I won’t kill you,” I said. She was stalling. I knew she was waiting on Charlie to turn into a zombie, trying to even the odds. I couldn’t let that happen to my friend.

“John, Leo, if she reappears, you have to take out Charlie. I’ll keep her busy talking, but he knows everything about us. Hell, he designed half of our defenses.” I sent to them.

I wasn’t sure how Charlie’s men would react. None of us were trained soldiers; none of us were prepared to handle any of this. I fought down memories of Charlie and me laughing at various points along our friendship, pushed them into a corner of my mind and held them there with anger at Sherry for taking him from us.

Trina appeared at my feet, but Bookbinder was nowhere to be seen. She dropped his radio at my feet.

“Tookes, you’ve been a thorn in our sides for too long. If you keep this up, Laura is going to come down on you like a ton of bricks and even you aren’t powerful enough to stop her. It’s a shame, too. You’re kind of cute. You’d make a nice pet.”

“What do you want from me Trina? Your people are trying to wipe out my family, my people and my home. You’re committing genocide, what for?”

“You humans, you think you’re so important. My race has been around for a hundred million years. Your bodies fit us perfectly; you were designed to host us. You’re a tool for us, like you would use a car. And, it turns out, you’re also very tasty, but that’s just an added perk.” Trina said.

“You are wrong though, we don’t want to wipe all of you out. We have to keep some of you alive to breed new bodies for us. This planet is our version of an auto factory. We just have a few minor details left to work out,” she said.

I stood there calmly. I couldn’t believe she was talking this much. We learned more in that one conversation than we knew all the way up until then.

“Your son Max is of particular interest to us,” she continued. “He’s different than even you, Tookes. When my kind enters a body like yours, your body releases a toxin that kills us, an unfortunate result of a genetic. Max, however, is special. We think he’s unique to your entire species. The toxin his body releases is like a drug for us. It doesn’t kill us, but we get addicted to it and that allows him to control us. If you give us Max to study, we’ll leave you alone. Otherwise, we’ll kill all of you and take Max ourselves.”

—–

Nearly two hundred miles south east, twelve men dressed in military fatigues crept across the border of the neighboring farm. They inched up the hill towards the manor house, crawling along on their bellies. When they reached the fence, the leader spoke quietly into his radio.

“Colonel, we’re in position.” He replied while peering through his night vision rifle scope. “Upstairs middle window, the target is sleeping.”

Chapter 10
Dilemma

At that moment, Shannon Johnson saw a glint in the grass. The rest of M5 was spread out behind him following on their nightly patrol of the grounds. Shannon dropped to his belly and brought his 30/30 up to ready before turning on the powerful MagLite that illuminated the twelve men lying prone in the grass.

Those men opened fire, all twelve of them firing at the source of the light. Shannon was killed instantly in a hail of gunfire, the huge flashlight hit the ground and slowly rolled to the left. The rest of Shannon’s team dropped to the ground and opened fire on the area where they’d seen muzzle flashes. Their bolt action rifles were slower than the M16’s carried by their attackers, but they did the trick. Even without being able to see anything, they were able to kill half of the invaders before retreating around the corner of an outbuilding.

When they first started these patrols, most of them had not taken them seriously. If they’d been walking in a group and talking like they had for the first month, they would have all been killed. One night just two weeks before Bookbinder ambushed them, ‘killing’ the entire team all by himself. After that fiasco, he taught them to stay separated by at least ten feet and walk in a line, canvassing the sides of the hills surrounding the manor house and settlement. Tonight, when Johnson turned on his flash light and was killed, the remainder of the squad dropped to their bellies in the tall grass. They were flanking the approaching soldiers, had perfect lines of fire when the attackers opened up on Shannon.

The men were catching their breath when they heard gun fire from down by the barn. They heard the slower, quieter M16's of the military men and the louder, single shots from the fire team’s hunting rifles. Signs of stress were already prevalent among the group. Gallard was staring into space, not really paying attention to anyone. None of them outside of Baker had ever shot a living person. Baker was an ex cop, who’d fired his weapon a couple of times in the line of duty, including killing a teenager that was waving a gun at an old lady.

Baker, who was second in command of M5 spoke first. The southern Virginian had a rough accent, he’d lived in the hills of Appalachia most of his life. He was no stranger to guns and knew as much about survival as anyone on the property. Baker was always picking some wild edible and talking about the benefits of this plant or that one.

“They won’t be no fuckin’ help from them other teams.” Baker said. “Tookes has the god damn walkies and the fuckin’ H&K magazines on they mission. That leaves us’ns to defend the fuckin’ home place with these shit-ass 30-30's. I don’t think them motherfuckers was ready when Johnson saw ‘em, so we has the fuckin’ element of surprise, but they gots us out-gunned and now we’s fuckin’ pinned here shit outta luck. I don’t know what these fuckers is up to or who they is, so we should think about tryin’ to nab one of em fuckers a prisoner. I’m pretty sure there were twelve of them fuckers in that group we run up on, now down to seven bitches left.”

Having assessed the situation, Baker continued, “So, em fuckers was headed towards the big house and only folks in there now is Missus Tookes and lil Max. Either they’re after lil Max, or em fuckers are gonna be mighty disappointed when they figure out the Command ain’t in there. Dumb fucks shoulda done some recon work. So, we gonna assume them fuck sticks is after lil Maxie, ‘cause thats worst fuckin’ case.”

Baker then started issuing orders to the team that was now his to command. “Gallard, Grieco, you fuckers head around the back and sneak in the fuckin’ kitchen door real quiet. Don’t let them fucks see you. Me an’ Leuty are headin’ straight up their ass, through the back door. We’s gonna swing by them fuckin stiffs we blasted out in the field to make sure they’ gonna stay dead an’ grab their guns. I’ll bring a couple extra for you’s. We meet up in the dining room in four minutes, get on now, fuckers. An’ be fuckin’ quiet about it.”

Gallard and Grieco ran as hard as they could for the back of the house; half crouched, trying to keep anything between the sliver of the moon and them. The surviving men from the field were nowhere to be found. Baker and Leuty collected four rifles and two radios which they put on. Leuty quickly removed one man’s undamaged combat vest and put it on himself. The gunfire from the barn continued; sporadic shots followed by moments of silence as both sides worked to outflank each other.

Down at the barn, M3 was heading up the steep hill from the river. They had just finished their last patrol and were about an hour ahead of M2. Leon Scott was in the lead when two men in soldier’s uniforms stood up out of the grass. They opened fire, somehow missing Scott. The leader of M3 threw himself to the ground rolling end over end down the hill. About halfway down, he hit his head on a rock jutting out of the hard ground, knocking himself unconscious.

Mark Shoenfeld and Gary Burbank weren’t so lucky. Mark took the first round to the neck, followed by another one straight through the heart. He had stopped to light a cigarette and turned away from the wind, giving the attackers a perfect side profile. The bullet went right under his arm, through his chest and exploded out the other side leaving his heart liquefied in his chest on its way through.

Gary caught a ricochet off a rock. The stray bullet entered his left cheek at a strong upward angle, broke through the soft pallet at the back of his throat and disintegrated the back of his head, launching bits of brain and skull all over Scott Humphries, who shouldered his weapon at the first sound of gunfire and squeezed off a round. His aim was true, taking the first soldier in the eye. Exactly what he’d spent the last two months training to do. He flicked the bolt back and forth and shot the other soldier in the face. Thinking he had negated the threat, he walked towards the corpses. Fifteen year old Adam Jacobsen yelled “No!” as two more men in combat fatigues stood up a few feet away. They shot Humphries simultaneously, hitting him directly in the chest with two rounds each. Humphries was thrown back several feet and landed in a heap on the ground.

Adam fired one round from a kneeling position killing a third soldier. Bookbinder had trained these men ruthlessly; one shot one kill. In addition to Bookbinder’s training, every one of them got a lot of practice shooting that night the horde came. The bruises on their shoulders from firing hundreds of rounds each had taken almost the entire next week to heal.

All that training kicked in just like Bookbinder said it would and the young militiaman gladly let it take control. He worked the bolt, aimed and squeezed, killing the fourth soldier. Six men in US Marines BDU’s came up from behind the patrol. All six men fired their weapons at Jacobsen. Two shots to the head, one slug in the neck and three bullets in the middle of his back ended Adam Jacobsen’s short but heroic life.

Randall Levitt gathered the men of M4 when the shooting started. They’d been relaxing in the communal living area above the barn, having finished their day’s assignments. Four minutes later they were just finishing gearing up when Adam Jacobsen fell dead. They ducked into the last concrete-block horse stall for cover and began returning fire at the six men in military uniforms through the vents in the block walls. Both groups were firmly entrenched, but the men in the barn had the insurgents pinned down behind a rock outcropping.

“Who’s in charge up there?” yelled someone from behind the rocks during a lull in the conversation.

The leader of M4 shouted down “My name is Levett. Why are you attacking us?”

“Mr. Levett. You are holding the key to the end of infected-human conflict. The Zombies have signed an agreement that they’ll give the remaining humans all the land between Virginia and Florida in exchange for one child. Giving the child to them can end this for all of us. We can have peace. Turn over the child and we don’t have to fight anymore. The decision you make here could affect every living human left in the world.”

“You believe them?” Levett shouted.

“I do, son. I met with their leader face to face. We sat down at a table and worked out an agreement.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Fred Shoemaker; I’m the Vice President of the United States of America.”

“Give me a minute.” yelled Levett. No leadership here, none of the people he trusted. Where was Bookbinder or Tookes? They’d know just how to handle this situation.

“Mr. Vice President, why did you attack? You should have come to us. You should have just come and talked, not come in here at night, guns blazing.”

“Levett, We tried a stealth mission, to save loss of life. We wanted to come in, get the kid and get out, before anyone else had to die. Every human life is sacred to me, especially now that there are so few of us.”

That makes some sense, Levett thought to himself. But I can’t just give them Max.

“Sir, why didn’t you come peacefully? Leave now, come back tomorrow. Tookes will be back, we can reason with him. I’m not in a position to give up his child. I’ve been left in charge of security of this facility and I won’t give the kid up.”

“That’s a shame, I’m sorry you feel that way. The deal with them is that we deliver the kid by 8am. If we fail the deal is off the table. We can’t afford to fail here Mr. Levett, this is the future of the species we’re talking about.”

Timothy Simmons watched the Vice President shift. A small part of the speaker’s head became visible. Simmons whispered “I have a shot Sarge. There is no more United States of America. There is only this place. This is our home and these fucks are attacking it. They killed M3. They shot up our home. They attacked us in the night like cowards. They waited for Tookes and M1 to be gone and they attacked.” And he squeezed the trigger. The former Vice President of the United States of America bucked once as the top of his head blew off and then fell silent.

“How do you know if a politician is lying?” asked Simmons. “Their mouth is moving.”

Up at the manor house, Baker and Leuty ran at top speed towards the back door of the house, which was hanging open at an odd angle. A voice came over the radio. “Target in custody, evacuating. Disengage.”

Leuty, thinking much more quickly than Baker could, said into the radio “Belay that, hold inside the house, hostiles incoming.”

Baker and Leuty heard a door slam upstairs, as Gallard and Grieco came running in the room, followed by an explosion from near the barn.

“Gallard, you two go up the back fucking stairs. Them fuckers is pinned in Lil Maxie’s fuckin’ room, I ain’t lettin’ em fuck sticks outta here with that boy. Tookes will have all our fuckin’ asses. Leuty, we’re going up the main stairs. You two, there’s a big fuckin’ closet at the top of the stairway. If you grab the door and sling it open, you can duck in’nair. In this old house, that bedroom door does double duty, swing it one way it’s the closet door, swing it the other it’s the bedroom door. When them fucks come runnin’ out, you kick that motherfucker as hard as you can and smash them numb-nuts in the face with that big ol’ fuckin’ door. Me an Leuty are gonna wait till we hear that door fuckin’ crash open and we’re gonna come bustin’ ass in there with these guns. We can’t shoot em’ cause they’re prolly holdin’ lil Max, but maybe we can convince em fucks to come out past your trap. Don’t fuckin’ let em get away.”

Just then over the radio “Who was that? Who belayed that order?”

“This is uhh” Leuty quickly looked down at the name on his chest “Private Kyle Sir.”

“Private Kyle’s dead,” came the reply.

“In that case, my name is Kenneth Leuty and I’ll kill every one of you before I let you leave with that boy.”

“Ken, I have three m203 40mm grenade launchers pointed at that barn. Each of these grenades has enough power to punch through that pretty tin roof and explode inside the building. I don’t know exactly how many people are living up in that hayloft, but it seems like a couple hundred. You stand down and let my boys come out or I will level that barn and everything in it.”

Baker spoke next. ”You motherfucker, we’re all supposed to be on the same fuckin’ side. Humans shouldn’t be fuckin’ killing fuckin’ humans. We should be fuckin’ killing these fucking zombies.”

“Whoever you are, all these zombies want is that boy. One boy and they’ll stop killing innocent people. Sometimes in war, there are acceptable losses. One boy to stop the destruction of our race seems logical to me. I have a signed accord with their leader, Laura E. Watson, that they’ll leave all the land from Virginia to Florida open for us, if we give them that one little boy. You have the fate of mankind in your hands Ken, yours and your foul mouthed friend.”

Chapter 11
Trina

Leo appeared at my side. Marshall and John took off running for where we were standing.

“Oh look, Tookes, your little girl came to your aid. How… quaint.” Trina said.

Leo looked like she’d been lit on fire. She was shaking with anger, shaking so hard and so fast she was blurring, the edges of her becoming transparent.

“Tookes, your little poppet looks mad. Should I be afraid of her?” She said with a giggle.

I saw the decision form, Trina was going to go for my neck. In a millisecond I sent out hundreds of shadows of my own, she was fast. She was smart, nearly every option I chose ended badly for me. None allowed me to kill her.

“Leo. Now.” Two words was all I had time to think at her before I let all the strength go out of my legs. I started falling straight to the ground while drawing my sig. Leo drew one of her short swords and disappeared, swinging left to right after appearing behind Trina. Trina stepped towards me, reaching for my neck, causing Leo’s swing to miss. Leo teleported again, appearing behind and above me. She swung the kukri in a downward arc as she fell narrowly missing my nose, removing Sherrie’s hand. My legs bent at the knees as I continued moving towards the ground. Leo poofed again, this time showing up on Trina’s left side, swinging for her arm. Trina dissipated, reappearing behind Leo, her hand almost completely re-grown.

“Behind” I thought to Leo. It was all happening as if time was moving at a snail’s pace. I’d fallen less than three inches.

Leo blinked again, leaving a swirl of black. She appeared upside down, like an Olympic diver, perfectly straight, from her toes to the point of her extended sword, just touching the blonde’s long hair. Trina’s momentum was carrying her downward already. Leo had just appeared and gravity hadn’t had a chance to take effect. A thick clump of Sherry’s blonde hair was left when she apparated again, this time to the ground to the right of me. Her lock of golden hair was still drifting downward as John fired two bullets. When the bullets where halfway to me, Trina blinked again and they passed harmlessly through the black smoke as the super zombie appeared to my left, grabbing my arm. I knew she could take me with her. She was so fast, all of this had happened in the time it took me to fall four inches. My hand had just reached my gun in its holster. I pointed it outwards, away from my hip still inside the holster and fired one shot.

Trina let out a scream as my bullet tore through her foot. She disappeared, cutting off her shriek and was still crying out when she reappeared, making it easy to figure out that she was directly behind me. I was building momentum, falling faster now. My gun had just cleared its holster when Leo swung her kukri at my side, over my head, slicing deeply into Trina’s arm. The cut closed quickly, but not as quickly as I’d expected, given how quickly she re-grew her hand.

I had a fleeting thought that she was going to run if we kept injuring her. I sent that impression to Leo, John and Marshall. “Don’t wound her, if you don’t have a kill, don’t take the shot.” It seemed easier to send whole thoughts than forming the words in my mind.

The sig finally cleared its plastic holster and I was pulling it up in front of me as I twisted myself to start the process of landing on my back. Trina and Leo were all over the place, staying in one spot no more than a millisecond or two. Both were feeling each other out, sometimes they’d clash together, sometimes they’d appear feet apart. Trina had had months of practice teleporting, Leo was fairly new to it but was learning very quickly. Leo was imaginative and inspired. She appeared at odd angles. She used gravity to her advantage. One time she appeared in a dive, fell a couple feet, then appeared horizontally, her body’s momentum now carried her forward, giving the effect of flying.

I started noticing trends in the black swirling mist left behind when they teleported. Trina always went in the same pattern. She moved too quickly for me to react to her decision making, shadows would appear, but solidify before I could do anything. My only hope was to get my gun into place in front of me, get my back on the ground and hope I could squeeze a round off before she killed me.

Before that happened, Trina appeared next to me, put her hand on my head and teleported me. I found myself at least a hundred feet up off the ground and falling quickly. Leo screamed and teleported above me. She misjudged how quickly I was moving and was unable to reach me as I fell. Trina was standing on the ground looking up at me from a few feet north of where I was going to land. I watched John turning around in slow motion, raising his gun. Marshall’s shotgun was pressed tightly against his shoulder.

“Trina!” I yelled, trying to keep her attention. “I’m going to kill you now.” She arched an eyebrow at me as John raised his gun, firing a shot from less than eight feet away. He was so fast. Marshall was only a second behind him, firing the shotgun. Trina disappeared, avoiding John’s bullet and reappeared a foot to the left. Her body was immediately spun around and knocked to the ground. There was a large hole in her chest from Marshall’s shotgun blast.

Leo saw an opportunity. She disappeared from above me, leaving me falling. From my perspective, the ground was rushing upwards very fast. Marshall was running towards where I was going to splatter but he wasn’t going to make it. I braced myself for how badly this was going to hurt. Even if Marshall caught me I was going to break my back.

The blonde zombie was squirming down on the ground, writhing in pain, leaking bodily fluids all over the road. Leo appeared at her head, driving her kukri’s into the bitch’s skull. She twisted them as the fattest part of the blade penetrated through Trina’s forehead and face. The squirming stopped; Leo appeared right beside me. She kissed me. The second our lips touched, we reappeared on the ground.

I took a minute to make sure my drawers were still clean and to holster my pistol before grabbing her. I pulled her tightly against me and pressed my lips against hers. “Thanks, Leo. That landing hurt much less than I had anticipated.”

I searched Trina’s corpse, the only thing worth keeping was a single key, not on a key ring. It wasn’t a car key; it might have been her house key. I figured if she had a key, maybe it would unlock something I needed. It was likely she could have come from the Department of Defense and maybe this key was to something there. It seemed worth holding on to for a little while anyways. It was just odd enough to pique my interest.

“Let’s head out. We have some humans to save; we’ve delayed here long enough. Keep your eyes peeled for Bookbinder. If he’s moving, assume he’s a zombie. He knows everything about us and now no doubt they do. I’m giving us two hours to get the prisoners out of the DOD and then we’re going home.” I said.

“Assuming Bookbinder will go straight to whoever is in charge in the area, I’m mildly hopeful we’ll find him at the DoD building. Maybe we’ll get lucky enough to find him before he’s fully turned; maybe we’ll be lucky enough that we can rescue him or end him before that happens.” Marshall said sadly.

“Charlie was my friend.” I said. ”I can’t leave him a zombie. At this point, that’s why we’re going there, screw Frye’s mission. If we can accomplish both, all the better, but Bookbinder is our number one priority right now.”

We loaded up in our trucks and headed the last two blocks to the Greyhound station. Behind the station in the yard we found four Greyhound buses. We all searched for nearly twenty minutes to find the keys and another thirty minutes to get them started and fueled up. We got ourselves ready for the next phase while they were warming up, belching plumes of black diesel smoke into the air.

“From here out, follow the plan. Park the buses in the first lot you come to. Turn the lights off and leave the motors idling; I don’t want to risk one of them not starting again. Leave fifteen minutes after us. We’re leaving in five. Check your weapons and refill your magazines. Once you’ve parked your bus, get out and find cover. Do not wait in the bus, they’re going to be the first target attacked.”

“We got it sir. You can count on us.” replied Dalton Reineer. ”We’ll be there when you need us.”

Marshall, Leo and I left in two of the SUV’s, leaving Reineer, Hostetler, Garrett and Johnson sitting in buses with idling motors and ten minute timers.

Twenty five minutes later, when the four buses arrived in the parking lot, they found our trucks smashed. One of them was fifteen feet off the ground up in the limbs of a tree. The rear wheels were still slowly spinning. The other truck was completely destroyed, leaning on its passenger side, with an arm sticking out from under it. Other than the owner of the arm, there was no one to be found. The members of M1 threw their buses into park and bailed out into the parking garage in the lot next door, looking to find a better observation position.

Chapter 12
Max

“We’re coming down. Stand aside,” yelled a voice from the top of the stairs.

Baker and Leuty stood on the left at the entrance to the dining room, Gallard and Grieco across the reception room to the right in the entrance to the living room.

A huge man in military fatigues with a long black assault rifle slung across his back stepped into the room holding Max against his chest. Max’s head rolled to one side, his eyes closed, he looked unconscious.

“Fuck, what did you mother fuckers do to lil Maxie?” asked Baker.

“We gave him a mild sedative; it was dosed by our base doctor based on his age and size estimate. He’ll sleep for a couple of hours and by then we’ll have had time to examine him. Maybe they’ll even let him come back. He won’t feel a thing,” replied the soldier.

The second soldier followed the first across the room and stepped in front to open the door. Max opened his eyes and tried to wink, scrunching his whole face up, closing both eyes and then opening them.

The remaining members of M5 heard Max speak in their heads. “Tell my Dad almost all my bugs are asleep. I can’t talk to him right now, he’s too far away, but I’ll be fine when they wake up. They said to say they took the medicine the bad man gave me, so I wouldn’t get hurt, but they had to go to sleep for a while until it was all gone. Don’t kill any more bad men tonight.”

Baker almost broke into tears as he nodded to Max. “I’ll come get you lil Maxie. I’ll fu… get these fu… Badguys,” he said. He didn’t know of Max could hear him or not, but it made him feel better.

When the soldiers were gone, he said “Leuty. Grab a car, something fuckin’ quiet. Follow them fucks but don’t let them see you. Try ta at least get a fuckin’ idea of what direction they going.”

Max bumped along as the soldier had transferred him to his back laying over his shoulder in a fireman carry. He was running while carrying the small boy. When the two soldiers walked out the front door they immediately started jogging towards the field at the rear of the house. They ran at a fast jog down the hill and splashed through the cold stream that bisected the back field. They’d covered about two miles when Max felt around in his head, looking for the familiar connection to his bugs. “I’m scared,” he thought. “I don’t know what to do and these badguys are mean; they’re going to hurt me.”

There was no response from the companions in his head. “This badguy has hard shoulders. I don’t like this. I’m scared.” Max started to cry, trying his best to stay quiet; trying not give away that he was awake. The bugs had told him to pretend to be asleep. He laid quietly as tears streamed down his cheeks, face down over the hard, scratchy backpack the soldier was wearing. Every time the soldier’s foot hit the ground, a tear bounced off his cheek and soaked into the man’s uniform.

“We’ve been running for one hundred minutes,” thought Max. Really they’d run about three miles, when they caught up with the other group of soldiers. Once Max and his captors rejoined the rest of their team, the pace slowed a little bit. “At least they haven’t hurt me yet,” thought Max.

“They will hurt you, Max. We will help you; we will get through this together. We’re not strong enough to talk to anyone else yet, but we’re starting to wake up.” Max heard. “When we’re all awake, we’ll help you make a plan and get you back to Daddy.”

The men continued jogging at the slower pace until they reached a big road. They ran down embankment on the side of the road and then followed the road to some big brown trucks. Most of them took off their packs and got inside their vehicles, but the soldier carrying Max laid him in the cargo area of the truck, where Max continued to pretend to be asleep.

“I don’t have any buckles. This isn’t safe,” thought Max.

“We are almost ready. Max, there are three humans we control over in the woods. We need you to call for them to come here.”

“Daddy calls those Zombies. He says to run if I ever see one.” Max thought.

“Max, you can control them, like we did for you a long time ago at that place by the bridge with your Daddy. Do you remember when they came for you in the truck and we made them stand still?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“You can do that too Max, with our help. Call out to them with your mind and tell them to come here. When the soldiers shoot them, you run. Run into the woods and keep running until we tell you. No matter what you hear or see, you keep running. Watch where you put your feet, the way will be rough. Be careful not to trip. Keep your eyes looking at your feet and run as fast as you can.”

Max replied, “Ok, I will run so fast. Call them now?”

“Yes, now. Then run when we say.”

Max looked with his mind for the zombies. When he found them, three of them travelling in a group, he thought to them “Hi guys. My bugs say you are nice. They say you’ll help me. I need you to come here and distract these badguys. Come now.”

“We come. Eat.” They replied.

“NO! NO eating. Just come.”

“We come. We eat.” they replied again.

Max looked a little deeper. He searched their minds for anything, something to latch on to. There was nothing. Just eat and follow instructions, the only two things they knew. Max took those two thoughts, which were floating evenly and put “eat” under “follow instructions.” trying to hide it. “Maybe if I put it underneath this one, they won’t see that and they’ll just listen.”

“Come. Do not eat.” thought Max.

“We come,” they replied.

Max couldn’t see them with his eyes, but he could look through the first zombie’s eyes. He saw them stumble out of the woods. They’d made it up to the first soldier and bumped into him when he turned around and jumped back.

“Contact!” the soldier shouted, drawing his pistol. He fired once, killing the lead zombie.

Max watched that zombie’s vision black out and then he was looking out of his own eyes.

“Run Max!”

Max rolled out of the big truck, scraping his arm on the pavement as he fell. He got to his feet as quickly as he could and started running. All of the soldiers thought he was still asleep, were facing the other way looking for more zombies. It was rare to see just three and the fact that they didn’t attempt to eat the soldiers was odd. They walked up to the truck and stopped. It only took them a few seconds to kill all three zombies. Then they spent another thirty seconds looking for more and another minute making sure no one was bitten. Per protocol, each soldier checked two others for bites or scratches.

“All clear, Sir.”

“Odd. Why didn’t they bite? They had Fellowes dead to rights. It’s your lucky night Fellowes,” replied Colonel Frye.

“Yes Sir!” Fellowes replied.

“Sir! The boy, he’s gone!” Yelled a soldier from the back of the truck.

By that time, Max was out of hearing range, running as fast as his tiny feet would take him. He watched his feet as the bugs had instructed him and only fell three times as he ran. He ran as fast as he could through the woods.

“I’m going fast!”

“Yes, you’re doing great Max. Now it gets hard, we have to stay away from the soldiers. Our abilities are coming back slower than we expected. There must have been something other than a sedative in that shot. We will be Ok, Max. But we’re on our own for a while.”

Running as fast as he could, Max tripped over a stick. When he fell, he slid forward, hands splayed out in front of him. He cut his hand on a large rock and blood started flowing out of his tiny palm. Max started to cry again, between the fear and the pain and being alone in the woods, it was too much for him.

“Max, we’ll make your hand stop hurting, but we have to find a place to hide to fix the cut. Wipe your hand on the ground, then put your hand on your shirt and press it against your chest. Use your foot to kick some leaves over the blood on the ground.”

Max did as he was told, trying to hide the drops of blood and using his shirt to absorb the blood running out of his hand.

“We need you to turn left just past this tree.”

Max ran past a huge gnarly oak tree and turned to the right.

“Max, left is the other way.”

“Oh, I know that,” replied Max turning around. “This way?”

“Yes, good. Run faster, Max.”

“My feet hurt really bad. I think they’re bleedy too.”

Max was wearing his PJ’s; he’d been asleep when they stuck the needle in his arm. The bugs woke him when they sensed the needle entering his arm but by then it was too late for him to run. They’d just had time to tell him to pretend to be asleep before the sedative and whatever else was in that needle began to work. They worked furiously to draw the chemicals out of his cells and into their own, knowing they’d need Max awake. They did not know that the other chemical was the closest thing the CDC had come to an inoculation for the infection before they were overrun.

“Right here, Max. Follow this path, keep running.”

“My feet hurt really bad,” replied Max. “And my side hurts. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have to keep going friend. You can’t stop, or they will catch you.”

Max kept running. His little lungs were on fire and he had a huge stitch in his side. He’d run as fast as he could for almost ten minutes now and was well over a mile from where he rolled out of the truck.

“Just ahead, there is a small house. Its dark in there, but we’ll help you. In the back of the shack, there is a clean bed. You’ll be safe there.”

Max saw the shed and kept running. He climbed the two stairs up to the door and reached for the knob, which was almost as high as he could reach. The knob wouldn’t turn at in his hand.

“It’s locked. I can’t get in.”

“You know what the edge of a door looks like. Think about the little piece of metal that sticks out the side of the door. That piece of metal goes into the wall, that piece is what holds the door closed. Use your mind Max. Concentrate; think very hard about that little piece of metal going back into the door.”

“Ok.”

The door knob shook a little bit and with very little noise, the door latch slid into the door, allowing Max to push the door open.

“I did it!” Said Max, who was clearly pleased with himself.”

“Now close the door and imagine the piece of metal going back into the wall, where it was.”

The latch slid back into place with a soft click, locking the door behind him. Max looked around the tiny house. It was a strange place, the smallest house he’d ever seen. One end of it was just big enough to hold a bed, in the middle was a kitchen and at the end with the door were two closets. Max was standing in the short hallway between the two closets. Just past the kitchen there was a ladder that led up to a small loft.

“Climb up the ladder Max. Up there you’ll find a clean bed. We need you to go to sleep. We need your body to relax so we can repair you, we will be safe here. We will hide here until we are strong again and then we will get back to your Daddy. When we get back, he will make sure that the bad guys don’t ever try to hurt you again. Do you know why Max?”

“Why?“

“Because he loves you. He loves you more than anything in this entire world. And love is what makes you humans so strong. Love is what binds you together. Our kind can act in perfect unison. And we are not bound together as strongly as you and your Daddy.”

“I miss my Daddy,” thought Max. He started to cry, thinking about how much he missed Mommy and Daddy. He focused on finding his Dad, but his senses were dull. He concentrated as much as he could and thought “Dad. Help.”

Max fell asleep almost as soon as he put his head on the bed. His body was exhausted, his mind was completely overwhelmed. The parasites worked to augment his body’s natural healing ability and began to knit his palm back together. That would normally take them only a few seconds, but tonight it took nearly two hours. Then they began the work on his feet. He had no calluses on his feet at all. Every stone, every stick had cut and abraded his feet. He had hundreds of small cuts and on his heels and on the balls of his feet including one long one across the arch of his tiny foot. Once Max was fully repaired, the symbiotes went to work repairing themselves and replicating. They were going to need to be extra strong if they were going to survive this and they must. This was the relationship their kind needed to have with humans. They had to keep this little boy safe, until they could find a way to make all the humans like Max. The others didn’t realize how powerful the partnership was. They were only interested in using humans as a vehicle.

Chapter 13
Germantown, MD

Marshall and I were in the lead truck, with Leo and John following in the other. We crossed town without incident and pulled up along the road just before the turn in to the government installation. There was a guard shack there, but it had been leveled and the gate was destroyed. Clearly someone had been here before us.

We turned off all the lights and rolled slowly into the top parking lot, engines just idling. We parked in the middle of the lot and stepped out, still more than a mile from the building.

“First of all,” I said. “Every time we use our abilities, it draws them to us. The supers can pinpoint us from very far off. Let’s try to limit use of abilities, unless lives depend on it. If we can’t figure out a way to kill them with our normal skills, then we’re in trouble. I’m of the opinion that we do this quick and quiet. Get in, look for humans. If we find survivors, let’s create a plan based on the situation. Keep an eye out for sentries and for traps. I don’t trust Frye, I don’t trust the intel he gave us and I don’t trust zombies.”

“Amen,” said Marshall.

“Leo, I’d like you to take a slow lap around the building, as quietly as possible and stay out of site. John, find high ground and give her as much cover as you can. Marshall, you and I will wait here to hear back,” I said.

So far we were undetected. John grabbed his telescope and Sammie, which I’d loaned to him for this operation. Apparently his 9mm bullets just wouldn’t fly far enough for this kind of shot, even with his abilities.

I watched John scramble up the side of the parking garage and quickly run across to the other side facing the four story building almost a mile away.

Leo took off at a slow run. Slow for her was still faster than an Olympic sprinter. But it wasn’t impossibly fast. We surmised that her speed used whatever power the zombies could detect, so the slower she ran the less of it she’d use. Still, I was in a hurry. I had this odd nag at the back of my skull telling me to go home. I hoped everything was alright. I came here to do a job and I was going to do it.

“Tookes, I smell guns. From this far away, I smell lots of guns,” John whispered over the radio.

“Frye told us there was a depot here, could that be it? Can you sniff them out once we’re in the building?”

“I dunno mate, I smell ‘em everywhere. Its’ all I can smell, it’s all around us.”

“Marshall! Keep an eye out, I think this is a trap.” I said under my voice.

“You got it Vic.”

Into the microphone “Leo, any sign of anything?”

“No, nothing here,” she whispered. “The lights are off in the building. I don’t see any movement. Wait. John, 3rd floor, north side, 4th window from the left.”

“Tookes, movement all across the 3rd floor,” said John.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was very wrong. I wanted to tell Leo to teleport back here, pick up john and land him in the truck and let’s get out. I wanted to tell John to shoot everything that moved. I wanted to tell Marshall to level that building, but I needed to protect my friends. Trina told me about them tracking our powers just before this. I don’t believe in coincidences, I believe in psychology. Trina said something about it because it was on her mind. It could have been on her mind because she was from here and that was how they were planning on springing this trap. She was a particularly strong super. It makes sense that they would make this facility their base of operations.

“Where does Frye fit in all this,” I said out loud.

Marshall asked, “What Vic?”

“I’m trying to puzzle this all out. If there were a group of humans in that building, I’d see them from here, I think. I can’t find a single living human in that building.” I went on to explain why I thought Trina told me about them tracking our powers, because that makes me think that their plan involved in using that against us. This was all coming together for me.

“I believe that the supers here are planning a trap for us. They’re waiting up there, in the dark, until they feel our powers.” I continued. “What I don’t know is where Frye figures into all this. I don’t know why Frye would send us here and let them know we are coming.”

“What about Bookbinder? He would have told them we were coming,” asked Marshall.

“Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. But still, where does Frye fit in? He pushed us to come here for some reason. Does he want us dead? Does he really think we can wipe out this many supers?” I asked. ”Maybe he was hopeful we’d get most of them. We’re in a world of hurt here Marshall.”

“Uhh, Vic. Your eyes are glowing.”

“What?” I asked.

“Your eyes, they’re glowing blue. Like the color of Max’s eyes, but yours are putting light off.”

“I have no idea. I don’t feel anything.” I looked down at my hands, clearly illuminated in the blue light from my eyes. My aura was also the baby blue of Max’s.

I focused on my aura, willing it to ‘be normal’. It faded for a second, back to its normal blue/purple, the state that typically meant I was about to get into a fight, before blinking back to baby blue.

“They dimmed for a second, but now they’re back on. I hope they can’t feel that,” said Marshall.

I spoke into my radio, “Leo, get back here. John, you as well.”

As I spoke, I John came over the radio “Tookes, they’re coming.”

“Leo, grab John and get to Marshall and I now!”

About one second later, Leo appeared holding John. I heard a gun fire. John spun and shot the bullet out of the air and then there were shots from everywhere. My aura grew to encompass the four of us, I had no idea what was happening and I was powerless to stop it. The bullet’s bounced off of my aura like some kind of energy shield.

“Holy shit, I’m bullet proof,” I said as four super zombies landed surrounding me. They began punching at the shield that surrounded us. Each time they hit, I felt a stab in my head, like a small pin prick somewhere on my scalp. It was there for the bullets too, but much less. If I hadn’t been focusing on that feeling I wouldn’t have noticed the bullet’s hitting at all. The punches were annoying. Every time it was like having a needle stuck into my brain.

I stepped back, the wall of blue that apparently only the zombies and I could see moved with me, exposing Marshall’s foot.

“Guys, move with me. We’re getting to a truck. I don’t know how long I can keep this up, I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how to control it,” I said quietly.

The four of us backed slowly, en-masse to the closest truck, but when I got inside the truck, the protective bubble closed around the inside of the truck rather than the outside. One of the supers stepped to the truck, ripped the hood off and started ripping parts off the engine, rendering it useless.

“I can’t protect the truck, only us. I have no idea how this works.”

One of the supers, a tall blonde surfer looking guy in an Armani suit stopped hitting the shield and spoke. I could hear him clearly in my head, but the sound of his voice through the shield was muffled, as if we were underwater. “Tookes, you can’t keep that up forever, we will beat you down. Then we’re going to eat your friends while you watch.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing, but unless there are more than four of you, I’m not that worried,” I said boastfully.

“There are a lot more of us,” was all he replied.

“John,” I whispered to his mind “Can you get your gun barrel outside? Will it go through?”

John pushed the barrel of his H&K assault rifle at the edge of the field, but all it did was warp and stretch around the tip.

“No, mate. No luck.” he replied.

Just then, Bookbinder landed on the top of the field. When his feet touched the blue energy, it was like hundreds of needles, all poking my brain from hundreds of different angles.

“Charlie!” I yelled. “Its’ good to see you.”

“You too Sir.” For a brief moment I had a thought that maybe Bookbinder was immune. “But now I’m going to eat you and then I’m going to go eat your friends.”

“Charlie, why? We were friends; we were on the same team.”

“There’s nothing of Charlie left.” replied Zombie-Charlie.

“Then I don’t mind killing you.” I replied.

My aura started to absorb Charlie. Starting with his feet, it flowed up around his boots and started slowly up his legs. He pulled away, screaming, but the blue energy kept holding him. He pulled harder; yelling in pain, as the blue light slowly crept up his legs. I heard his pants tear and with a huge heave, he ripped his legs from the sockets, flying upward into the sky.

When he tore free, blood spattered along the top of the shield and disappeared and the stumps that were his legs disintegrated, slowly sinking, almost melting in the field.

The energy field was noticeably smaller after Bookbinder’s assault. My brain was on fire. My legs were getting weak.

“Guys, I can’t do this much more.”

Marshall stepped outside of the field. The zombies immediately opened fire, but the bullet’s had very little effect. He picked up the first explorer, the one with most of its engine missing by the back bumper and using it like a club, smashed the nearest super into a mushy wet spot in the parking lot. Leo disappeared from inside the bubble, reappearing right behind the super who’d spoken to me. She disappeared and reappeared one foot forward with both blades buried in its head. She made the blades appear inside the zombie. As she dropped the eight inches to the ground, she twisted the handles, cracking his skull open and spilling the contents out.

There were two supers left beating on the shield. John turned around backwards and backed out, leading with his body he had no trouble getting outside. He fired the H&K from one arm and his pistol from the other.

Six more supers landed behind John. He turned to shoot one, removing the top of its head before anyone had a chance to say anything. The next one of them hit him in the back of the head with a closed fist. John flew forward, face first into the asphalt and then slid along the pavement, unconscious.

“One down, Tookes.” Thought surfer dude.

“Leo, get him out of here. Hide him far away.”

Leo appeared next to John, put her hand on his head and they both disappeared and a second later Leo was back.

“Come here fucker. You can cheap shot people all you want, can you take me man to man? Just you and me, no weapons? I’m going to rip your head off with my bare hands.” I hadn’t felt this in a long time. There was a burning rage inside my belly, rage for killing zombies. I hadn’t felt this since the bridge after Candi died.

My aura shrunk down to just a rough outline of me and tinged with purple, forming a suit of armor. With that thought, the blue light solidified into a blue suit of armor like a medieval knight. I thought again, this time about military body armor and it took the form of a soldier’s combat armor. Surfer guy appeared directly in front of me and smashed his fist into my chest. Just a small pin prick in my head. I watched him select his next move and swung my fist as hard as I could, where he was going to be. I connected with his jaw, leaving a glowing blue spot. He reeled from the blow, stepping backwards a few feet. I advanced and watched him feint right and then swing with his left. I swung my right fist at his hand, crushing it. It was a broken, mangled mess. He held his hand up and we both watched as it straightened and reformed. Not wanting to miss my opportunity, I drove for his neck with both hands. I had my hands around his neck, my aura flowing in his mouth and out his nose and back into me. I could feel him weakening; I could feel his energy fading, being overcome by mine.

The weaker he got the harder I squeezed until finally, with a yell I twisted and ripped his head from his neck.

“You sons of bitches want to fuck with me? I shouted? FUCK YOU!” I yelled.

“Let it all hang out. Let’s show these motherfuckers what we are made of,” I said.

Marshall grabbed the un-wrecked truck in his other hand. He smashed the two trucks together like he was clapping demolishing two zombies just as six new supers landed. Leo was everywhere. It was like there was three of her. She appeared over them, disappearing and reappearing so fast she literally hadn’t faded out of one spot before she was in the next. Ten more appeared.

I stepped up to a tall brown haired guy in another charcoal suit. He grabbed my arm. I focused my aura into him; he crumpled to the ground within seconds. My legs wobbled, but I kept going. The next zombie in line grabbed me, with the same effect. I poured my aura into him, killing him. As he fell to the ground, I stumbled, landing on my knee. I couldn’t keep this up, so I changed tactics. Unfortunately, so did they.

Marshall threw the first truck at three standing in a line, crushing them as it flew up into the tree. Twelve more supers landed.

“There has to be an end to them. We have to be making progress,” I thought to Leo and Marshall.

The more of them we killed, the more of them showed up. For every one we killed, three more showed up. We were quickly becoming overwhelmed. No matter how fast we moved, no matter how many we killed.

“Leo! Grab Marshall and get to John, then come back for me.” Leo and Marshall dispersed and all of the zombies converged on me.

All fifty super zombies were converging on me, when I heard Max’s voice, weak and faint in my head. “Dad. Help.”

Panic driven adrenaline surged through me. Max was in trouble. The thing I cared about most in this world. Suddenly it all made sense. Frye sent us here to get us away from Max. Frye set us up, he knew this was a nest of super zombies and he knew it was more than we could handle. I channeled my rage, thought about Max, all my love for him, all my hatred for Frye. “I stomped my foot, launching a blue wave of energy, similar to what Max had done, except this time it disintegrated them all, turning them into dust, which swirled up in the wind as I collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

I woke up, laying in the grass at dawn. John was sitting up holding his shirt to the side of his face.

“Ugg,” I groaned. ”My head is killing me!”

“Tookes, you turned them all to dust, then lost consciousness,” exclaimed Leo. Her shirt was ripped across the belly and there was a mostly healed gash across her stomach. She was favoring her left arm, holding it tightly against her chest.

Marshall walked up and knelt down in front of me. His arm had a pretty ugly cut across it, which had closed but was still red and angry looking. A black eye was fading, in that yellowed stage. It took me a second to realize I had no idea he was going to do that. Then I realized I couldn’t see his aura.

“Leo. Can you hear me?” I thought.

The crickets chirped in the long grass all around us.

Chapter 14
Max and Friends

“Wake up Max.”

“Max. Wake up, we have to move.”

“Five more minutes! I’m sleepy.”

“We’re sorry Max, but its time. We have to get going.”

“But its cold! I don’t want to go back outside.”

“We know, Max. We’ll help keep you warm, but we’re still pretty sick and can’t do much. We fixed your hands and feet while you were asleep though.”

Max rolled over in the bed, into the cool air of the early fall morning. He climbed down the ladder and looked around the room. The table was covered in junk, piled high with metal scraps and parts of various machines. The chairs were dingy but were clean before the layer of dust settled on them. He looked around, but there was no sign of any other children, it appeared to be someone’s house, but there wasn’t much here that seemed useful to the small boy.

“I’m hungry. I want cheese. And yogurt. Flower yogurt.”

“Max, there’s nothing to eat here. We’re going to have to find another house. And there won’t be any cheese or vanilla yogurt. But maybe we can find a can of raviolis.”

“Awwww,” replied Max in his head. “But I want yogurt. I haven’t had yogurt in 100 days!”

“We know Max. But things are different now. Things are harder for your kind. You have to work harder, be smarter. My kind is bad guys. We didn’t know it was possible to be friends, like we are with you. You’re the only one we can be friends with Max. Your body is different, different even than your Daddy. We think it was a combination of your Daddy and your Mommy put together that made you special.”

Max walked up to the door and unlocked it. He twisted the handle and shoved the door open letting the cold air into the barely warm cabin. He shivered in the morning chill; he was wearing only thin PJ’s.

“Max, there is a zombie out in the woods. Call to him. Tell him to obey you. You’re going to need his help. He’s a soldier, but they have their uses, including carrying you, if he’s not too rotten.”

Max cast his mind forward, looking for the zombie. It was walking forward, stopped by a limb across its chest, one arm stuck over the limb, his bare feet were worn down to the bone. The pathetic creature continued walking until Max tapped into its mind.

“Come to me.” Max ordered it.

“We come. Eat.”

“No! No eating!” thought Max. He looked deep into the things mind, searching around until he found it. “Eat. Follow Directions.” They weren’t words, they were just primal instructions. Max imagined a pencil eraser in the creature’s mind, erasing the directive to eat.

“Max, you can’t do that. Only our boss can do that.”

“I’m the boss of him now.” replied Max, speaking out loud.

He looked once again in the things mind. There was no ‘eat’. Only the instruction to follow directions remained. Then Max had an idea of his own. He turned the imaginary pencil around and drew a picture after follow directions. It was a circle, with two dots for eyes, a line for a nose and a smiling mouth. “That’s me, I’m Max. You can only follow directions from me,” he thought to the creature.

“Lift your arms.” The creature raised both arms over its head.

“Turn around and walk.” It took a few steps forward.

“Walk around the tree. Don’t walk into stuff. If you do, turn around and walk around it.”

“We come to Max.”

The creature stumbled its way through the woods towards Max.

“What’s your name?”

“We don’t have names,” Max heard from his own symbiotes.

“Your name is Steve,” Max implanted in the thing’s head.

“Steves come to Max.”

“Not Steves,” thought Max. “Just Steve.”

“Steve come to Max.” Steve replied.

When Steve arrived, he was a mess. He’d been walking into that branch for months. There was no flesh on his side or inside his arm. The flesh on his feet was worn off, leaving bloody ragged bits of flesh hanging off his feet. His shirt hung off in tatters.

“Can you fix him?” Max asked.

“No Max. We are still sick. He is too damaged. He is still useful. His smell will throw off the dogs that are looking for us.” The symbiotes said.

“When you’re better, then you can fix him,” said Max.

“Max, he is not a human like you. He is a tool, like a hammer. You use a hammer for a job and then you put it away until you need it again.”

“He walks. He talks. He should be fixed,” argued Max. “He’s not dead.”

Steve followed Max as he took off, moving quickly through the underbrush. Max was a child and had all the energy of a kid, all that energy that we, as adults, wished we had a tenth of. Steve was a little slower, Max had to stop several times throughout the morning to wait for Steve.

After several hours of walking, Max said “I’m still hungry. I want a cheese sandwich.”

“There is a path ahead. Turn down the path; it will lead to a house. Inside the house you’ll be safe for a little while. We need to rest. It’s going to be two or three days until we’re not sick anymore. Tell Steve to watch for badguys from the woods.”

“How is my daddy going to find me? I miss my dad.” Max’s lip quivered as he thought the last part, tears welling up in his eyes.

“We’ll help you find him, Max. You are sad. Why are you sad? We don’t understand sad.”

“I miss my Daddy. I need him.”

“We’ll find him soon Max. But you have to get inside this house. There aren’t any soldiers inside. Tell Steve to tell you if there is anything coming.”

“Steve, please stay out here and tell me if anyone is coming. My bugs will make you better when they’re not sick anymore.”

“Steve stay,” it replied.

The house was a large two story. It looked like one of those weekend retreat places that politicians from DC built way out here in the woods. It had all the comforts of big city life, backup generators, a commercial style kitchen, a swimming pool and hot tub, six huge bedrooms and gigantic old furniture. Inside the kitchen, the gigantic stainless steel appliances loomed over Max’s head. He padded across the Venetian marble floor, looking for anything to eat. The cabinets were beautiful hand crafted Brazilian cherry wood, stained in a dark reddish brown. Max opened the tall cabinets and saw a bunch of canned food.

“What can I have to eat?”

“It’s all food, Max. Any of it in the cans will still be good.”

“I don’t like any of it.”

“Max, pick something. You like green beans. Look for a picture of food you like. You have to eat.”

Max searched through the cabinet and finally found a huge can of green beans. He pulled that out and put it up on the counter with a heave. He went over to the table, grabbed one of the hand carved chairs and dragged it over to the island.

“Daddy keeps the can opener right beside the sink. I’ll look there,” Max said, standing on his tiptoes he could just barely peer into the drawer. He reached in and shifted some of the kitchen tools; a large chef’s knife, mixing spoons and a whisk before finding a hand crank can opener.

“You put this on the can. But I don’t know how,” thought Max.

“It looks like you put this little part on the edge and then you squeeze these two long handles and then turn this crank.”

Max applied the can opener and turned the knob.

“We think it is upside down.”

He turned the can over. “No, the opener is upside down, not the can.”

Max turned the can back over and reversed the can opener, clipping it on the lid. He turned the crank and the can turned.

“It’s working!” he cried happily “Now I need a bowl. And a spoon!”

Max opened several more drawers, until he found a spoon and then found a bowl. He only spilled a little getting the green beans out of the can, before sitting down on the floor and eating them ravenously. When they were gone, he padded around the kitchen looking for a napkin.

“Max, it’s time for sleeping, can you take a nap? We need you to sleep.”

The little boy walked through the rest of the house. The downstairs had a living room with a gigantic brown leather sectional couch and a huge dining room. There was an office in the front of the house, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the overgrown front lawn. The other side of the front entrance was a big den, with a huge TV mounted to the wall.

“Steve, are you okay? I am going to go to sleep. Please tell me if anything comes.”

“Steve wait. Steve tell you when something comes.”

Max climbed the formal stairway. When he reached the top of the curving stair, he walked down the hall looking into each bedroom. The first one he came too looked like a girl’s room, but the next one made him pause for a second before he turned into a child’s bedroom. It had a small red plastic race car bed, perfectly made up with sheets from the movie Cars. He climbed in the toddler sized bed and went to sleep the second his tiny blonde head hit the pillow.

In that same instant, his symbiotes went into hibernation, attempting to find a way to rid themselves of the poison that was killing them as fast as they could reproduce.

Max dreamed of his mother, holding him, singing to him. He dreamed that they were back at the park by his old house, playing on the swings. Candi was pushing him on the swing. “I love you Max,” she said after one big push.

“I love you to mommy. I miss you a lot,” he said, starting to cry.

“Don’t cry baby. I’m always with you. I’m always watching over you, always.”

“I miss Daddy, too.”

“He’s coming for you Max. He had to fight a bunch of bad guys, but that’s done and he’s Ok. He’s far away and it’s going to take him one or two more sleeps to find you, but he will. He is coming Max. Can you be strong until he finds you?”

“How will he know where I am?” asked Max, still swinging.

“He’s your Daddy, Max. Nothing in this world could keep him from you. He loves you more than anything. He would rip a mountain apart with his bare hands to find you.”

“He’s very tired right now Max. I need to go back to Daddy. I can’t talk to him like I talk to you, but I can continue trying to keep him safe, as I’ve done since we left our house. I’m very tired from last night.”

“Don’t go Mommy, I love you! Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m never far away Max. I’m always inside your heart!” Candi said as she faded away.

Steve stood outside in the drizzle, watching. He didn’t notice the rain. He didn’t notice that his body temperature was 53 degrees; he didn’t notice the small bits of flesh that tore off his feet every time he moved. He stood in the rain, watchful, never tiring, never giving up and never closing his cloudy eyes. He stood there unmoving for seven hours before something tickled his senses.

“Max, two soldiers and one lieutenant are near,” said Steve.

“Max, we are not well enough to control that lieutenant. We need to hide.”

Max slid down in the bed, pulling the bright red covers up over his head, he kept his mind quiet and small.

Chapter 15
Homeward Bound

I looked over at John sitting up. "Max, can you hear me?" I thought.

"We have to move," I said.  "The last thing I remember is feeling Max call for help.  It was different than when he normally talks to me.  I don't think it was his voice, I think someone else was telling me Max needs help, I can't really describe it.”

"Max can talk to you like you talk to us?" asked John.

"Yea, we can talk that way, over long distances.  But he's not answering me right now and I can't seem to talk to any of you either.  I'm not sure what’s going on, but I can't use any of my abilities. I think maybe I overdid it last night.  Killing them by touch seemed to literally use up my power.”

"What?" Cried Leo.

"I'm fine, I'm sure they'll come back, I think I'm just mentally exhausted.” I said, as reassuringly as possible.  I wasn't sure myself, but I tried to sound upbeat and positive about it.

"How far can you teleport Leo?" I asked.

"Only about two kilometers, but I'm really exhausted.  I stayed up all night watching over you lot.  I'm not sure if I could even make it one right now.”

"How far could you make it carrying one of us?"

"Carrying all of you? I could maybe go a hundred meters.  I'm not sure I could do it at all.”

"Okay then, sounds like we're walking.”  I said getting up off the ground.  "John, how is your ammo?"

"I'm almost empty.  I have eighteen shots in one Glock and six in my revolver,” he replied.

"I'm sure that Bookbinder's team has gone home by now,” I said.  “They would have arrived just after we bugged out, I hope they're Ok.  I'm sure when we didn't come back they've already headed back to the house.”

"I'm sure they are fine, you turned all the zombies to dust just before Leo brought you here," said Marshall.

"I did?  How?" I replied.

"I don’t know, she said she found you collapsed on the ground, she appeared as the last zombie was blowing away in the wind.”

"That seems like a skill I'd like to have," I replied with a grin.

"Let’s move out.” I said, standing up, stretching a bit.  "Marshall and I will go first; Leo and John follow and watch out behind us.  No using powers, not even a little bit.  We are normal humans.”

I looked around, we were in the middle of a field, but I could see houses in the distance.  I hoped we might find a car in that neighborhood, so we headed that way.

We walked two by two, about twenty feet apart, for about a mile before we made it to the first house.  It was a large two story, the kind we'd called McMansions prior to the end of the world. Those huge 6000 square foot houses with five bedrooms purchased by thirty something’s with too many dollars and not enough sense.

We peered in the garage windows, but couldn't see anything in the dark interior of the garage.

"Think its worth going in?" I asked the group.

"Can't hurt, maybe there's some food in there, I'm starving.”

I realized I hadn't eaten in almost sixteen hours and I was starving.

"Marshall, take the front door.”

Marshall smashed the knob on the door with the butt of his shotgun and kicked it open.  I stood on the left side, hatchet at the ready; he stepped to the right and reversed his shotgun.  We waited.

We heard nothing, so we stepped inside the gloomy house, into the marble floored entry way.  We slowly advanced into the kitchen, while John and Leo verified that the dining room was clear.  We met up again in the great room in the back of the house.

"Holy shit," I said looking out the sliding glass door. The back yard grass was overgrown, but you can tell that it had been perfectly kept.  There was a huge three level deck in the back with a hot tub, swimming pool and lounge area.  On one side there was a marble counter top, with cabinets underneath, a full kitchen sink and grill mounted in the marble.  It was my dream deck.  The swimming pool was covered, but it had a slate patio all around it, the yard was beautiful.  Even just a couple of hours with a mower would return it to its original grandeur.

There was a bump from the upstairs, instantly drawing us out of our revelry, I looked down and saw my gun in my hand.  We moved forward, pushing through the house towards the stairs at the front.  Slowly we climbed the stairs, creeping upwards, guns in front of us, slicing the corners like we were soldiers.  At the top of the stairs, we looked down a long hallway.  There were seven doors, four down the right side and three on the left.

We each positioned ourselves in front of a door and on John's signal we each kicked opened the door in front of us.  Leo giggled as the skinniest cat I’ve ever seen ran between her legs.  The giggling stopped quickly when the smell hit us.  Judging by the volume of ammonia rushing out of the room that cat had been stuck in there the entire five months since the outbreak began.

We cleared the rest of the house and found nothing else of note including an empty garage.

The next house on the street was a little smaller but furnished entirely with the most ostentatious Victorian era furniture.  It was blue velvet and looked as if it might actually have been from the Victorian era.  Inside the kitchen, we found a woman who looked like she also might have been from the Victorian era.  She'd been in a wheelchair and being a zombie didn't fix being a paralyzed. The ancient zombie woman had worn her chin off flopping it against the floor.  She'd managed to drag herself almost five feet from her chair with her chin.

Marshall put the thing out of its misery with a size thirteen boot to the back of its skull.  Upstairs we found her caretaker and the source of the old woman's infection.  He was well chewed on, one arm hung limply at the ghoul’s side and one of its legs was missing from the knee down.  Draggers weren't that hard to dispatch. Another size 13 to his head and the threat was eliminated.

In the kitchen we found some canned of food and at least two hundred cans of cat food.  We all had a can of whatever vegetable we wanted and then went back for seconds.  In the way back of the pantry we found two cans of spam and a single can of Vienna Sausages.  As we ate we all remembered how much we hated canned food and how lucky we were to have all that we do.

The garage had a old bicycle in it. There were stacks of cardboard labeled boxes containing decorations for every holiday. An old chest freezer sat across from an ancient looking workbench. Above the workbench sat every manner of antique hand tool.

I raised the garage door and we moved on to the third house. It was the exact same model as the first house, a horseshoe shaped driveway led us to the front door.

I put my ear to the door to listen to the inside. I gently rapped on the door. I was rewarded instantly with scraping feet coming towards the door.

“Sounds like three,” I whispered.

“Let’s just bash the door in and finish them,” Marshall said.

“Have at it, big brother.”

Marshall lifted his foot and smashed the handle of the door, splintering the wood around the deadbolt. The door slammed inward throwing the lead zombie back into the room. It landed on its back and slid into the wall between the doorway to the kitchen and a beautiful antique grandfather clock. The walking corpse looked to be in its mid thirties. It was wearing dark blue jeans and a black tee shirt under what had originally been an expensive sportcoat.

Marshall and I stepped back and to the side as the other two zombies shuffled out of the house. I brought my hatchet down on the skull of a gray haired man wearing a charcoal pinstripe suit. He fell forward with a thump onto the bricks. Leo ended the other with a quick blow from her kukri. The old woman fell on her face, landing on the bricks beside her husband.

The zombie that had been their son had reached his knees when Leo dispatched him. His head rolled a few feet eventually coming to rest at the base of the old wooden clock. We searched the house, but found no more people and thankfully no more shut-in cats.

In the garage we found a cream colored 1973 Cadillac Coupe DeVille and on a pegboard in the laundry room, we found the keys.  The car was immaculate and had 7,200 miles on it.  There was no sign that it was 107,200; the blue velour on the driver’s seat wasn't the slightest bit crushed.  The motor turned over easily and the antique car roared to life.  I'm not sure what a mint condition 1973 Caddy was worth before zombies, but it would have been worth it. This car was a beautiful example of automotive engineering.

We pulled out of the garage rollin’ gangster style leaned back on the bench seats.  The Caddy had half a tank of gas so we headed towards the highway.  We'd taken back roads to get to the government installation but I was in a hurry to get home.  The on-ramp had a pretty severe accident, nine cars all smashed into each other blocking the road.  Luckily we were riding in a steel shrouded tank with an insane amount of power under the hood.  The Caddy easily pushed the small commuter cars out of the way. The previous owners were probably turning over in their grave, or at least rolling over on their front porch.

At highway speed the Caddy was like riding a couch down the road.  My three friends fell asleep as I drove and only woke up when I had to slow down to push some cars out of the way, before falling quickly back to sleep.

"Wake up, zombies ahead," I yelled.

Each of them started awake as I plowed the giant car into a group of zombies that were taking up the entire width of the highway.  Gore covered the window, which held up under the barrage without a scratch.  I flicked the wipers on, which smeared blood and brains across the glass, temporarily blocking my view.  A second twist of the wiper knob flooded the windshield with windshield cleaner. A few seconds later the wipers to cleaned enough area for me to see out again.

One of the zombies managed to get herself caught on the bumper.  Her hand reached up over the front of the hood, trying to find something to grab on to. I tried swerving, but eventually I had to pull over to remove the remains.

The act of removing the recently mutilated carcass from the smashed chrome bumper was much more arduous than I anticipated.  Every time I pulled on some part, pieces of the zombie separated from the core, which was wedged firmly in the grille.  Both arms virtually fell off in my hands when I yanked on them.  The legs were ground down to stumps from dragging on the road under the car.  Behind the car there were two long bloody streaks trailing out behind the vehicle back to where I'd initially impacted the small horde.

The rest of the legs gave me no leverage either, the bones pulled right out of the rotten thigh meat.  If all the zombies rotted at the rate of this one, we wouldn't have much of a threat to worry about in a few more months.  If they wintered outside, there wouldn't be much left by spring.

We pulled into the driveway at home about noon, met by Leuty and Baker at the gate.

"I'm sorry Mr. Tookes. Frye took Max.  We tried to stop them, but we lost a lot of men, I think they would have killed all of us.”

The news hit me like a sledgehammer in the chest.

"Which way did they go and how long has it been?"

"They went north out the back, they came a few hours after dark last night.

"Guys, get some food.  Get some ammunition and resupply.  If you're coming with me, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, I'm going to get Max and put an end to Frye once and for all.

A fire like I'd never felt before ignited in my belly.  I wasn't just going to kill Frye.  I was going to make him hurt.

I was going to send a message, do not fuck with me.

Chapter 16
Lieutenant Steve

"Steve sees soldiers coming in.  Lieutenant staying outside.”  Max heard in his mind in a quiet voice from Steve.

"Max, we might have to fight.  We are not strong, so you have to do it Max.  The soldiers are dumb.  They only walk straight for you; if you run in a circle you can get away.”

Max heard the shambling zombies enter the house downstairs, crashing against the furniture.  He heard their footsteps entering the kitchen, where he'd eaten.

"Can they smell like doggies?" asked Max

"Some can.  Some soldiers have slightly enhanced abilities like lieutenants, but It’s much less powerful.”

"I think they are smelling for me," thought Max.

"If that’s the case, we're definitely going to have to fight.  Get up now. Go to the closet and open it.”

Inside the closet were several things Max was very happy to see, including a pair of red Converse sneakers that fit his feet. He found a basket of socks, some jeans and a sweater. Max was very grateful the jeans were the snap kind; he still had a hard time with pants that buttoned.  There was a picture of a boy and a man in a suit hanging on the wall, the boy looked a lot like Max.  Both of them had blonde hair, blue eyes and were all legs and arms.  The little boy in the picture looked a younger than Max, but based on the clothing sizes available, he seemed to be pretty close in age.  Perhaps it was an older picture, or perhaps he was small for his age, Max was certainly several inches taller than average for an almost four year old.

The zombies stumbled around in the kitchen, Max heard the can of green beans he'd left on the counter hit the floor and some other things come crashing down on the light marble tiles.  While the badguys were down there distracted making a horrible racket, Max used that time to take his filthy pajamas off and slip into the pants and a dark green hooded sweatshirt. He put on the fresh socks, but the shoes presented a problem. Max was just learning to put shoes on. He ended up just knotting the laces together as best he could.  The jeans were a little too short, but Max didn't really notice, he was happy to be warm and comfortable.

"How do I fight them?" asked Max.

"Think about your Daddy.  Think about how much you miss him and how much you want to see him and give it everything you have.  Don't ever stop fighting. If they hurt you we'll make it stop.  Don't ever give up Max; because your Daddy won’t ever give up.”

"Ok.  I'll try.  I'm scared.  I wish my Mommy and Daddy were here.”

"We know, Max.  Your Daddy is coming.  We promise.”

Max heard the zombies hit the steps.  The door to the bedroom opened inwards.  Max recalled a cartoon he watched one time where the kid hid behind the door when the bad guys were looking for him so he took up the spot right behind the door.  He thought about the zombies walking into the room. In his imagination, they were following his smell towards the bed.  He wanted them to go to the bed.  He needed something to draw them towards the bed.

At that moment a faint blue glow filled the bed.  As he concentrated on his need; he felt part of himself walk over to the bed and lay down.  He watched himself lay down in the bed and pull the sheets up pretending to be asleep. He reached up and turned the knob as quietly as he could and pulled the door open just a bit.  These badguys were dumb.  Maybe they couldn't work a door.

A few seconds later, there was a loud crash as the first zombie smashed against the door; having followed Max's smell straight to that bedroom.  Max was safely behind it as the zombies went straight towards the bed.  As soon as they were past, Max slid out the door, pulling it closed behind him.  He heard the zombies ripping the bed to shreds as the blue glow flowed through the door and rejoined Max.  He ran down the hall and down the stairs.

"Steve, get a stick.  Walk to the lieutenant and hit it in the head" Max's symbiotes commanded.

"Steve follow Max.  Not you.”

"Please do what they say," said Max.

Outside, Steve picked up a large stick and stumbled towards the super standing outside the house.  It looked at him, but it was focused on controlling the stupid soldiers in that bedroom. It took most of his concentration to get them to open the door.  Steve walked up behind it but that was fairly normal. Soldiers were drawn to lieutenants.  The lieutenant knew it would stand behind him awaiting orders.

Steve drew the stick back and smashed the super in the head knocking it flat on its face right as Max bolted out the door.   The super started to roll over and lashed out at Steve with its mind.  Steve dropped the stick and fell to the ground in a heap.

Max put his hand on the super's head and whispered in its ear and in its mind, "You follow Max now,” While erasing the word ‘directions’ and drawing his own picture in the creatures mind.  This super had a lot of other orders.  It was much harder to find the directive to eat.  He searched and searched; passing directives he didn't understand, looking for the control telling it to eat.  Deeper and deeper Max went into the things mind.

Max's own symbiotes started screaming "Max, no.  It’s hurting us!"

Max continued, stubborn as any three year old could be.  He knew it was in there.  He wasn't sure how he knew, but he just did.  All zombies eat people.  Finally, he found it buried at the bottom of the thing's mind. Max added the word no in front of it.  He pulled his hand away, severing the connection between him and the dazed super.

The super zombie stood up standing straight and motionless, awaiting orders.

"Max, order it to bite you.  We'll make it not hurt, but it can give us more friends.  If it gives us its friends, it will make us better, stronger.”

"Bite Steve," ordered Max.  "Make him smart, like you.”

The super bent over and bit Steve's leg, transferring all of the parasites in its mouth to Steve.  Steve convulsed a few times, groaning and thrashing on the ground.

"Max, you should have had it bite us.  It won't be able to do that for several more days. It will take a while for lieutenant this weak to build up enough friends to make another lieutenant.”

"I am Ok.  Steve was not Ok.  He needed help more than me.”

"Max, Steve is not a person.  Steve is a tool.”

Steve rolled over and stood up, his wounds closed, fresh pink flesh showing where his old rotten skin had been.  His rib cage was filling back out, with new flash growing over the places that were missing.  Within minutes Steve could pass for a normal, pre apocalypse human.

"Max, may I go inside and find some new clothes? And maybe a pair of shoes?" asked Steve, who suddenly had a Welsh accent.

"Steve!" shouted Max, who ran over and gave him a hug. "You're all better!"

Steve stood still while the child hugged him.  There was no feeling there. There was no love, no animosity, no feelings at all.  This is what it was like to be a zombie.  The old Steve, the living Steve, had been a man named Giles.  He'd had a wife named Sean and two children. The oldest was a six year old daughter. His youngest was just a newborn baby back in Wales.   Steve felt no emotion as he relived Giles memories. He felt no worry about them, no concern for their well being.  There was a memory of loving them, but no feeling.  Steve stood, remembering the birth of Giles daughter.  He relived all of the most emotional moments in life, feeling nothing.  The only thing he felt was a desire to serve Max.

Max looked up at Steve, "We have to find my Daddy.  He will be sad that I'm gone and I miss him.”

"We have to go, now.  The men chasing you aren't far behind," said Steve.  "We have to make time.  Max, can you ride on my back?"

"Ok," replied Max simply as Steve lifted the boy up. They took off at a run; the two supers and Max.  Neither of them was as fast as Leo, but they were faster than a normal person.  They ran around behind the house and off into the bush at the edge of the property.  Max was holding on to Steve's neck so tightly that he would have choked him, if Steve had the need to breathe.

"What's your name?" Max asked the other super with them.

"This human was called Jason," said the zombie.

"Jason, I am glad to meet you.  My name is Max.  My Daddy will find us and he'll make this all better.”

"We need to keep running," said Jason.  "The men chasing you have vehicles.  We can move faster on foot, but they haven't stopped looking for you.  Before you took me over I was trying to find you so I could make a deal with them.  I was going to hand you over to them in hopes of currying favor with Laura.”

"What's favor?" Max asked.

"It means make her like me"

"Why do you want her to like you? She's bad.  She talked to me once, she said mean things.  She said I should come to her and if I didn't she would kill my Daddy.  But my Simboats said I shouldn't. They said my Daddy would kill Laura.”

Jason replied "I don't think anything can kill Laura.”

"My Daddy can.” replied Max.

They were running through the woods, as fast as these supers could go.  Max was hanging on as tightly as he could through the bouncing.  They ran for nearly an hour before Max started slipping.

"I'm tired," said Max. "I need to walk.  My arms are burny.”

Steve and Jason stopped running in the tree line along the edge of the woods leading to a huge grassy field.  Out in the field hundreds of horses were running wild, thundering across the countryside.

A smile crept across Max's face as he watched the huge animals move. It was pure joy.  They were beautiful running together. They turned as a group before heading up over a hill and disappearing from sight.

Then Max figured out why they were running. Two men on quads were racing up the tree line.  They were wearing full combat fatigues and the quads had been spray painted jungle camouflage.  Steve and Jason knelt down in the undergrowth at the edge of the field and in one cohesive movement both of them sprung out of the bushes taking the riders down to the ground.  Both zombies rolled to their feet. They stood prepared to kill the soldiers.  Only one of the soldiers stood up, shooting Steve in the leg with a pistol.  Steve flinched at the impact, but continued coming forward.  By that time Jason had the man by the neck, biting into him.  Steve joined in biting the other side.

Max shouted "NO! No eating!"

"We're not eating him, we're turning him," replied Steve calmly, a bit of blood running down his chin.

"No turning. No biting.  Biting is bad.”

Both zombies released the soldier.  It was of course too late, but perhaps next time.  The soldier, who had slumped to the ground, stood back up and started walking towards Max.

"Follow Max.  No eating," said Jason to the new zombie-soldier.

"Max, you're going to have to do it.  But you can't keep that up, every time you turn one of us, it uses up a little part of your energy.  We need you to be strong, until we are better.  Do not make any more friends out of us Max.  Doing so will make you sick and it will make us sicker.”

Max ran through the now familiar routine of making the zombie his subject.

"Can you talk?" asked Max.  "What's your name?"

"Greenwood.  This humans name was Greenwood,” replied the newly turned soldier.

"Ask him where the rest of his companions are," the symbiotes said to Max.

"Where are your umpanions?"

"They're about three clicks back.  We'll need to move these quads into the underbrush and hide Small's body.  They'll be able to track us if they find the bikes.”

"Max, may we speak directly?"

"Sure, you can borrow my mouth.”

Max's symbiotes spoke through his mouth.  "We have a better idea.  Greenwood, you stay here.  Lay down on the ground and act like you're hurt.  When the other soldiers come, take care of them.”

"I will be terminated.”

"Your job is to serve Max.  Do so," replied the symbiotes.

Max was unhappy with this plan it didn't seem right to him but he didn't fully grasp the concepts of taking care of them or being terminated and his friends had kept him safe for this long.  He trusted them.

Chapter 17
The Search

Fifteen minutes later we all met back in the living room.

“I know where the facility is, roughly. I found it once while off-roading when I was a teenager. Actually, I found a huge chain link fence with razor wire on top in the middle of the woods north of Culpeper. We’re going to get Max and put an end to this Frye nonsense.” I started. “I tried to be a nice guy. I tried to play nice with that piece of shit, but I’m done. Tonight, I’m ending him. I’m either going to kill him, or I’m going to make sure that he never interferes with us again.” I was shaking with rage, which I knew I’d have some trouble getting under control. I needed this rage though, things were about to get violent. “This is not going to be pretty. This is not going to be nice. He came in my house and took my son and there will be hell to pay. I’m going to collect on that debt.”

“Mate, I know you’re mad as a cut snake, we all are. We all want to see that bastard dead, but if go in guns blazing like a drongo you gonna get us mob killed or worse, ya mum is gonna find out. We gotta nut this all out first cobber, I’m with you on killing him though.”

“John, you’re my best mate and I have no desire to get you killed. I am fine with you staying here and guarding the house against further attack.

“Fuck that, you ain’t shooting thru without me. You know I’m coming; someone’s gotta keep your sorry ass alive. Just let me get some tucker first”

“Alright. Here’s my plan, it’s fairly simple.” I said. “Step one, we find the place. Step two, we kill Frye.”

“Alright, let’s go find the fucker and get my nephew back,” said Marshall.

We were all hungry, so we stopped off in the kitchen for a quick raid of the pantry. Mom had bunch of stuff laid out for us. I stopped in the kitchen to talk to her when we first got back; she laid out her recollections and her ideas about where Frye was.

“I don’t think the Colonel is staying at Mount Pony. He went north, which would lead him to Route 29. That’s about six miles above here. I think he’s holed up at Madison Wood Preservers, right in Madison. I think that’s why they walked the last six miles, because it saved them nearly thirty miles of driving. Those big trucks they drive can’t get but about ten miles per gallon. They had to have had at least five trucks full of men here; it would have cost them twenty gallons of diesel to drive. Frye knows it would have cost virtually nothing for them to walk here.”

“He told me he was at Mount Pony,” I replied.

“Maybe he was lying? Maybe he wanted you to think he was, or maybe it gave some credibility to his position to say he was from there. I’m telling you Vic; every time he left here he went towards Madison, not towards Culpeper. The wood shop in Madison is the only place for miles and miles that could house and hide those kinds of vehicles and men.”

“Thanks Mom. I’m going to check out Mt. Pony first. If I don’t find him there, or any sign of him there, I’ll head to Madison Wood Preservers.”

We ate quickly, I hugged Mom and we all stood up to leave.

“Thanks Mom, for everything you do here.”

“Bring my grandson home Vic.”

“We’ll do it, Mom.”

We chose two Jeeps that had been built for off-road driving to make the trip. Leo and I rode in my favorite yellow off roader. It was a beautiful early fall day. By the time we got on the road it was a few minutes before three in the afternoon. I drove to the general area and pulled off to the side of the road. Both of the small SUV’s had wenches on their modified front bumpers.

“John, pull the leader on the wench cable up over the hood and clip it to the roll cage. We’re going to be going through some big holes. We go through them one at the time. Once I’m safely out, you can drop in. If either of us gets stuck, it’s going to be a mess getting out. You don’t want to have to wade in that water to get your cable”

After we’d both clipped the wench cables to the roll cages, I lowered the air pressure in my tires down to five PSI. “When tires are low on air pressure, the surface cups where it meets the road. When you’re in the mud, it helps keep your tires from sinking down in. It also helps give traction when climbing over big rocks,” I said, tossing John my air pressure gauge.

We turned onto the dirt road, shifted into four-wheel drive and headed towards the first obstacle. Way before I ever learned about this place, some farmer had made a pile of rocks across the path. There was no way to get around the rocks; the only option was to go over them. We always felt like it was a test. If your truck couldn’t make it over the pile, you didn’t have any business being back in here.

The rock pile was always much bigger than I expected, easily twelve feet high. I pulled to the side of the path and waved John up. “You go first. I’ll guide you,” I said as I climbed out of the truck and onto the rock-pile.

“Alright, put your front wheels here and give it some gas, until they’re up on this rock. Once you get up on it, stop and hold it there.” I said. John pulled up easily and bounced the front tires up as directed.

“Now, cut it hard right. You gotta bring the rear up where your front tires are now,” I said.

John turned the wheel and slowly accelerated. The rubber squealed on the rocks as the wheels spun. The whole Jeep started bouncing on the low-pressure tires. After just a couple seconds, the cold rocks heated up and the rubber of the tires softened. The now sticky wheels gained traction quickly. The rear of the truck hopped up on the rocks where his front tires had been previously, pushing the small truck a couple of feet forward on the pile before John got it stopped. “Good! Hard left, straighten up and give it hell. You’re over the worst of it. Don’t stop until you’re on the dirt on the other side,” I said.

John did as instructed. His Jeep bounced over the top of the rock pile, Marshall held on to the roll bar to keep from bouncing out of the small truck. Both of them hopped out and climbed the rock pile to watch me come over. I’d done this hundreds of times, but I’d always been in a pickup truck with a much longer wheelbase. I plotted my path up the rocks and pulled forward, nudging the pile with the front tires.

The yellow Jeep I was driving had a v6 engine and thirty-six inch tires. John’s red Wrangler was only a four-cylinder, with thirty-two inch tires. Between the extra power, more lift and my experience climbing this particular pile, I had much less trouble bouncing up over the barrier.

The path widened out on this side of the entrance obstacle. We rolled about fifteen miles per hour down the dirt road, winding back into the forest. There were hundreds of trails back here. I turned left and right, trying to get to the general area where I remembered running into that fence. At the top of one particularly steep hill, I stopped and again got out.

“At the bottom of this hill is a pretty ugly mud pit. Or at least, there always was when I’ve been here before. We’ve had a lot of rain, so I would expect it to be pretty bad. In the old days, we had to stick to the left side. If I remember right, there’s a big rock a foot or so underwater that will rip the rubber off your wheel. Hit it hard and don’t let up until you’re across.”

Back in the yellow Jeep, I said “Hang on,” and started down the hill. I left the truck in second gear and rolled down the hill hitting the hole at about twenty miles per hour. Muddy water sprayed out from the tires a dozen feet into the air before we bogged down. I smashed the accelerator to the floor and downshifted into first gear. The wheels spun, but we crawled inch by inch through the hole and out the other side. Once on firm ground, I pulled sideways on the trail so we could watch John. He drove the red Jeep down into the mud hole. He gave it hell, but the smaller Jeep just didn’t have enough power and traction to pull through the thick mud; it came to a stop in about three feet of cold muddy water. The water rolled in to the floorboards, both Marshall and John had to pick up their feet to keep their boots dry.

John reached up and unclipped the wench cable. He stood up in the driver’s seat and threw it to me on the bank while Leo maneuvered the yellow Jeep around facing the hole. I connected our two cables and used my wench to reel them out of the mud.

“Almost had it mate!” I called to John. “I don’t think anyone could have made that hole in your Jeep. It’s just too small.”

“Story of my life, mate,” he replied.

It took almost an hour of searching to find the eight foot tall chain link and razor wire fence. Then it was just a matter of following the fence line until we found a gate. Every hundred feet there was a camera mounted on one of the fence posts, but none of them turned or moved or gave any indication that they were turned on or working at all.

When we got to where the guard shack had been we found it demolished. A section of chain link fence replaced the bar style gate that had been there. The fence section had been “sewn” to the existing edge of the fence with a huge piece of chain, the ends were padlocked together. In the middle of the access road they’d driven a fence post right through the foundation of the guard shack and then another one on the other side of the lane. A ten foot span of fence made up the gate.

“I’m going to go knock and see if anyone is home.” I said, getting out of the muddy yellow Jeep.

I walked a few feet up to the gate and gingerly touched it, thinking maybe it was electrified. It was not. I put my hands on the gate and shook it several times violently.

“Frye!” I yelled. It was just my normal voice; apparently I’d lost my ability to enhance it when I lost the rest of my powers.

“Frye!” louder still, as loudly as I could. I waited several minutes for any sign of movement, before drawing my pistol and shooting the lock holding the gate in place. It shattered and I easily unwound the chain and opened the gate.

“Let’s go knock on the front door,” I said, hopping back in the Jeep and starting it up.

We idled in first gear through the hole in the fence. I purposely shot the fence. Marshall could have easily and quietly torn the lock from the chain. I’m not sure a zombie could detect that low power usage or from how far, but I wanted to make the noise. I wanted to let Frye know we were here.

About a mile down a well worn paved road we came to the first intersection. I’d worked on several installations like this; I had a feeling this road was a big circle. When I was in college I worked for a government contractor doing mechanical work. Most government facilities were all from the same blueprints. The US government hadn’t had the ability to come up with a new idea since the cold war.

We turned down the right side of the fork, curving around several small sheds and a larger equipment barn. The grass was not mowed, but it was easy to tell that six months ago the grounds had been pristine. Inside the barn we could see tractors and small landscaping equipment, a bobcat, a small front end loader with backhoe and a tractor with a bush hog.

We continued around the circle. Eventually we arrived at the inner fence around the main part of the facility. This fence was on rollers, designed to allow vehicle access. We stopped our Jeep there and dismounted.

I yelled for Frye to come out of there as loudly as I could. Once again I waited several minutes without a response. I didn’t hear a thing. Not a bang not a door closing, not a whisper.

The complex was built into the side of Mount Pony, right into the foot of the mountain. The main door was a long corridor that led from the flat spot for parking into the base of the mountain. Several stories up there were glass windows glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

“Leo, can you pop up there and look in those windows?” I asked.

Leo disappeared in a cloud, reappeared a foot or so above each window, peering inside as she fell, before apparating in front of the next window. When she’d gotten a good look inside, she appeared between John and me.

“The windows go back into the mountain. They’re tunnels six or eight feet long before they open into a room so I didn’t have much of a view. As far as I can tell there is nothing moving up there.” she reported.

“This is a nuclear bomb shelter, I’m sure that there’s an inner chamber that seals off, wouldn’t make a lot of sense for there not to be an inner chamber that sealed, away from those windows. Let’s go in,” I said.

We walked up to the solid steel door with some hesitation. It was slightly cracked. We all carried flashlights everywhere we went these days. Without a word we all pulled them out before Marshall opened the heavy door. The door opened easily enough, although there was an odd rattle as we opened it. Once we were all inside, I got an odd feeling.

“Don’t let that door…” I started to say as the door slammed shut. “Close.”

We all heard the steel bars locking the door closed drop into place. This was a nuclear shelter. Even Marshall couldn’t beat this door down. He smashed his fists into the door, barely denting it. The shockwave of that impact nearly deafened all of us.

“Marshall, we have to find another way out. At best you’ll dent the door into the locks and we’ll never get them to retract.”

Just then we heard a crash from the floor above us, muffled through the thick concrete separating the two stories of the structure.

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds bad. Let’s get moving. We headed down the hall at a trot to be met with another slightly propped steel door, bigger and thicker than the first.

“Don’t let this one close,” I said flatly.

“Grab that stool, I’ll wedge it into the opening,” said John.

Marshall tossed him a stool, which he caught with one hand before removing his foot from holding the door open. He deftly slid the stool in place as the door softly closed against it.

The room on the other side of the door was a cafeteria and break room. It was surprisingly large and well lit. The fluorescent light looked weird to our eyes; we’d grown so accustomed to natural light or the LED glow from flashlights and lanterns. The light was so even and blue.

Leo asked, “There’s power working here. How do they still have working backup generators?”

There were two doors on either side of the far wall; we chose the door on the right after carefully moving through the space, looking for any sign of habitation. There was a large dish drop area, which was scrubbed and sparkling clean. The floors were shining; the table tops were wiped down.

“There’s no dust. It’s been five months, if no one was living here, there would be dust everywhere, especially with the doors propped open. And why would you prop the doors open?’ Leo asked.

“I don’t know, but Frye isn’t here. Let’s find a way out and head over towards Madison Wood Preservers. If we can get up to those windows on the second floor maybe we can climb out. Otherwise, let’s see if we can find a control room to open the outside doors.” I said.

I listened at the door for a second and upon hearing nothing, opened it up. It opened into a large auditorium that was full of people. Every seat in the house had a body sitting in it. Every person sitting straight up, hands on their knees, the picture of perfect posture. On the stage at the center of the small arena was a man with graying hair in a military uniform, holding a small blonde haired boy by the hand.

Every head in the auditorium turned, twisting unnaturally to look at the sound of the . When they saw me, they stood up as one mass and started slowly shambling up the stairs towards me. In unison they let out a guttural moan, “Tooooooooookes.” The sound was eerily low and rumbling.

This entire scene was set up to taunt me and it worked. I flew into a rage. I saw red everywhere. I drew my hatchet and started down the stairs, smashing heads. When my hatchet got stuck I resorted to my fists. I grabbed them, threw them and punched them. I killed several with a single punch to the nose. I felt the bones in my hands break, knit back together and break again. The pain drove me that much harder, fueled my anger.

I was about half way down the stairs using an arm I’d ripped off to club and stab anything in my way. I felt a hand on my shoulder, whirled to grab it when I felt the first mouth close down on my forearm. I yanked my arm free, enraged further and threw the zombie behind me into the crowd pushing up the steps. They fell like bowling pins and I waded down into them stomping on their heads, smashing their brains with my boot.

There were zombies filing in behind me. The further I went the more they pressed in on me. A mouth closed in on my arm, another on my leg. It was just like the fight outside the house, only this time Max wasn’t there to save me.

That’s when I felt something slip inside my head. I was reminded of that day at the house when I was battered and broken and Watley’s men attacked the house. Suddenly I could see my aura again. I twisted in the hands holding me and saw Marshall using his arms like battering rams, beating his way towards me. Leo was running down the tops of the seat backs, to get to the isle I was in, in an attempt to get to me from the side.

My rage calmed. A sense of ease washed over me and I felt peace. Peace that I hadn’t felt since all of this started. The zombies that had their teeth sunk into me crumpled to the ground. The zombies had lifted me up like a crowd surfer. When my armor appeared, I became toxic to their touch. All of the zombies holding me died simultaneously, I fell to the ground in a heap. I felt Marshall’s huge hand wrap mine up as he yanked me to my feet.

John’s H&K rang out. In one burst he emptied the magazine. The 7.62 rounds punched through skull after skull, each bullet decimating the brains of two or three before becoming lodged in the head of one more. He fired in thirty round bursts. Fire thirty rounds, change mags and fire another burst, until he was out of magazines.

Marshall put my hatchet in my hand and we fought our way to the stage. I lept on the stage and swung at the still motionless zombie that represented Frye. It dodged, dropping the little child zombie. My swing went wide and the little thing jumped at me. It grabbed my leg in a bear hug. I kicked at Frye-zombie with that leg, the small freak adding to the momentum. Both creatures went flying and landed together in a heap. I launched myself at the pile swinging my hatchet. I completely removed the top of zombie-Frye’s head, before reversing the hatchet and hitting the child zombie with the butt of the handle, smashing the back of its skull in, ending its torturous existence.

When I stood up I was battered, bruised and exhausted. I looked back at the room and surveyed the carnage. Leo was up in the stands racing across the back of the seats chasing down the last moving zombie. I watched her drive her short sword into the back of the things skull.

In a flash she was standing beside me. “Vic. If you ever do something that stupid again I’ll kill you myself.”

Marshall clapped me on the back “I thought you were a goner little bro. I don’t know what you did or how you managed to survive. I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

John chuckled “Yer a bloody wakka, you really are aiming to be zombie tucker.”

I felt monumentally stupid. ”I lost my temper. Frye set that whole scene up for us. He’s teasing us; he knew we’d come here. He set up the door locks to seal us in and he set this horror show up to get under my skin. And he won. I’m back in control now, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

We walked back up the stairs around the back side of the auditorium, to the exit on the opposite side of the room. Behind a heavy wooden door we found stairs leading up to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was another huge steel door, this one with a ship style locking wheel. Leo spun the wheel open and pulled the door into the stairway.

We walked down the hall heading for the end room. I expected if a room was going to have windows, it would be the one at the end of the hall. The door at the end of the hall was steel but just a normal steel fire door, not the type of vault doors we’d encountered other places. It was unlocked and we quickly entered the office when we saw the window. We didn’t even look to see was the largest human being I’ve ever encountered standing against the side wall. He made Marshall look like a child. He was easily eight and a half feet tall. His arms bulged so much his tee shirt was ripped up the sleeves.

The man was standing motionless when we entered. It wasn’t until we were fully in the room that the lowest voice I’ve ever heard said “Hello Tookes, I’ve been waiting for you. Did you enjoy my show?” His voice rumbled; so deep I could feel it in my chest. Fear and anger ran through me at the same time. Frye had out-thought me again.

Chapter 18
Max’s Army

Steve, Jason and Max set off through the woods continuing to head north away from Frye’s men. They could move fast enough to stay ahead, but not fast enough to circle around to get behind them. Even with Max riding or being carried by one of his lieutenants.

Steve was carrying a sleeping Max in his arms when he caught scent of humans and dropped down into the tall grass of the field they’d been sprinting across. He shook Max to wake him. ”There are humans ahead. Many humans. We cannot go forward anymore.”

“I’ll go check it out,” volunteered Jason.

The taller zombie sprinted forward. He was impossibly fast, but not nearly as fast as Leo.

“I miss Leo,” said Max. ”She always gives me hugs and she always has something yummy in her pockets.”

Steve whispered, “We need to stay quiet right now.”

In a few minutes, Jason returned. ”There are about 75 humans in a camp. They have guards posted on towers around their fence, which is very tall. They are well defended and they appear well provisioned. I think we need to run wide around them.”

“What if they’re nice?” asked Max. ”We need friends. They can be our friends.”

Jason said, “Max, they’ll kill us. They don’t know that you control us. They won’t believe you even if you told them.”

“Then we shouldn’t tell them you have bugs. We just say you’re Steve and Jason. We’ll play a joke on them,” replied Max simply.

“Max, that has a very high chance of failure.”

“My dad says that if I ever get lost I should find a grown up and tell them. That’s the rule,” Max said as he stood up in the field and started walking up over the hill.

When he topped the rise, what he saw amazed the small boy. There was a huge wooden wall at least thirty feet high made of tree trunks planted upright. It was like whole huge forest of tree trunks. At the corners of the wall were round guard towers. The place looked to Max like a wooden castle. As he approached with Steve and Jason following him, the large gate made up of horizontal logs opened like a garage door. Very quickly six men with guns came running out and circled the trio. Once the men were out, the gate slammed shut. Max noted from the colors that surrounded them that they were curious, a little afraid and ready to fight.

The six men each had different guns, two of them had small guns like John and the rest had long guns like Daddy or Uncle Marshall liked. Most of them pointed them at Steve and Jason, only one man kept a pistol pointed at Max.

“Who are you and why are you here.”

“I’m Max. I’m lost. My Daddy said, if I’m ever lost I should find a grownup and tell them I’m lost.”

“You’re a very smart boy, Max. How old are you?”

“I’m three years old,” said Max, holding three fingers up. ”But on my next birthday I’ll be four years old,” he continued, adding a 4th finger.

“How did you get lost? Where is your Daddy?”

“Dad is coming; he was out helping some people the night the bad guys came to our house. The good guys fought hard but the bad guys found me and took me. I ran away from them. I’ve been running through the woods for three sleeps. I found a house and then I found another house and ate some green beans. The bad guys found me there too, so we had to run again. I met Steve the first night. He helped me run, he can run so fast! And at the big house with the green beans I met Jason. He’s my friend too. He helped me get away from the bad guys that were chasing me yesterday.”

The men seemed to consider the story. Their weapons dropped a little bit. Max saw the purple fading out of the swirling colors around them.

Max continued to try to convince them, “This morning when we were running, Steve was carrying me on his shoulders. But bad guys with motorcycles found us. Steve and Jason killed them and we ran again. Jason said we shouldn’t come in here, but my Daddy said to find grownups. And you’re grownups. Can you help me?”

The man with the short guns like Uncle John carried spoke first. He was big, not as big as Uncle Marshall, but taller than Daddy. He had a black and white beard and dark eyes. Max didn’t really like him and decided he might be a bad guy and that he should be careful. ”My name is Ronnie. I am a grownup, you did the right thing. We’ll help you find your Daddy, son.”

“Thank you. Do you have any food? I’m hungry.”

“Can you eat food?”

“We can. It is not pleasant for us to eat what you eat but it doesn’t cause damage. It would be easier to just tell them we’re not hungry.”

The leader spoke into his radio and then turned back to Max.

“Come on this way, we’ll get you inside where it’s safe and take a look at you to make sure you’re not one of them zombies. Mrs. Goddell always knows the people from the zombies.”

“That’s bad news Max. If she has your ability, she’ll know Steve and Jason are not human,” Max heard in his head.

“I can just make them blue like me,” he replied.

“That’ll make you very tired. You won’t be able to do that for long.” Max’s bugs said.

“I’ll tell them they’re my friends. They’ll understand, if they’re good, they’ll know.”

The three companions walked up to the gate, surrounded by the guards. Just as the gate creaked and started rising, Max took Steve and Jason’s hands and fed a little of his pale blue aura into them. They gained his light blue color and then Max changed it to green. As the gate opened they were greeted by a small party of people in normal clothes. Max felt very tired all of the sudden and ravenously hungry.

“You must be Max. My name is Mrs. Goddell. This was my house, before all of this happened, you’re welcome here.”

Max thought she seemed nice. She was an older woman. Her dark skin was wrinkled and her tightly curled gray hair was pulled back into a braid. She reminded him of his old school friend Jamal’s grandma. Jamal had been Max’s best friend at school, which was what Max used to call his daycare. He didn’t go to that school anymore though, but when he did he used to go over to Jamal’s house to play sometimes.

“Miss Goddell, I’m hungry. Can I have something to eat?”

“Sure, just let me take a look at your friends.”

The old woman put her hand on Steve and Max heard her gasp just a bit.

“Max. Your friends aren’t welcome here. They’re bad men. I don’t know why they haven’t hurt you, but they will.” Mrs. Goddell thought to him.

“No, they are nice. They have to do what I say. Can you look in their head like I can?”

“I can’t do that. I see that they have your aura. You must trust them a lot if you’re willing to do that for them. What did you do to them?”

“I told them not to eat people and that they had to follow me, not Laura.”

Mrs. Goddell was still holding on to Steve. One of her men stepped forward. ”Mrs. Godell, are you Ok?” He asked.

“Don’t interrupt me,” she said.

“Max, I dont’ know who you are, but you are too special for me to put you out. But I can’t have these two in my house. Will you tell them to leave? They can wait for you at the edge of the field.”

“Don’t hurt them. They’re my friends, they’re nice.”

“Jason and Steve won’t be staying with us. They’re going to stay outside the walls. They are not to be harmed. That is my order,” the grandmotherly lady said out loud, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Go wait at the edge of the field. No eating,” Max said to both Jason and Steve.

The two zombies turned in unison and walked out of the gate. The gate dropped just after they cleared it. The pair of undead walked to the edge of the field, turned and waited for their next instruction. They stood stock still, unmoving, unblinking and waited. They waited for Max to need them.

“Let’s go get you something to eat Max,” Mrs. Goddell said, taking his hand in hers and walking him towards her worn house where she had some beef stew cooking on the stove. Max had never been a fan of soup but he was so hungry, he finished two bowls before he pushed back from the table.

When he was finished Max said, “I’m really tired, can I take a nap?”

“No Max, we all have to work for our food around here, even little guys like you can do things to help out.” Mrs. Goddell replied.

“What can I do?” asked Max.

“For starters, I want you to teach me to do the things you can do.” She said.

“No Max.” Said his symbiotes in his head.

“Who was that?” Goddell asked.

“That was my bugs. They’re my friends; no one else has ever heard them.” Said Max.

“So you’re a zombie?” she asked.

“No. I’m Max. I’m not a badguy.”

“But you have parasites like a zombie.”

“I’m a good boy, but I don’t know how to tell you how to do what I do.”

Max felt Goddell pushing around inside him. His aura solidified around his head, like a solid blue helmet.

“Ouch!” cried Goddell, clasping her hands to her head and bending over in pain. ”What did you do to me!”

“I.. I didn’t want you to look in my head. I need some privacy.” He didn’t really know how to explain it. It felt a little like when he was in the bathroom, he wanted to be alone.

“Max, that was very naughty. You hurt me.”

“I want my Daddy.”

Max was starting to get a little worried. He didn’t want her in his head. He felt like it was private and he didn’t like that she just went in his head.

“Max, if you won’t tell me, I’ll be very angry,” she said.

Max suddenly felt very afraid. Her aura was getting some purple and red streaks and he knew that was bad. He made a quick decision.

“Max! NO,” shouted his symbiotes.

Max dove into her mind, searching. He was looking for anything that would help. He’d only been inside the zombies; even Jason was a blank chalk board compared to this mind. He looked past her memories of children, who were now grown-ups. He looked past her grandchildren. He saw them die in her memories, eaten by their parents outside this very house. He saw one of her grandchildren bite her arm. That was how she got her abilities. He watched the memory of her killing her badguy children with a kitchen knife.

Max changed levels, past memories, looking for her instructions, as he’d found in both zombies. There was so much to make sense of, he staggered back and leaned against the wall. His head was on fire, but he had to find it. He had to find what she wanted. He searched, finding desperation. She was desperate to protect those around her and would do whatever she had to do to save them.

She put her hands to her head. He felt her try to solidify her aura, as she had learned from him, but he was much stronger. Her aura clamped down on the tunnel from his mind to hers, but was unable to cut it. Little innocent Max stepped forward and put his hand on her wrist. He looked up with his icy blue eyes.

“I am nice!” he yelled into her head with all of his might.

Chapter 19
Intel in the Woods

The tiny room was barely big enough for the five of us. There was no way we could all get out in time. In a split second, I decided the only option was to try to catch him off guard. Without even checking the outcome of my actions, I launched myself at the giant screaming a guttural battle cry. I brought my hatchet down in an arc as I flew towards the monster. The blade embedded deeply in its forearm, which he held up to block my chop. He grinned as he yanked the hatchet out of my hand. The old familiar shadows shot out of him. I ducked as he swung my own hatchet at my head kicking him in the thigh as hard as I could. The kick would have shattered a normal person’s femur and probably done a significant amount of knee damage. My foot bounced off its leg and the huge man caught me by the foot.

In one quick motion it picked me up and threw me into the wall. The sheetrock broke with the force of my impact, leaving a huge divot in the wall when I slid down. I struggled to stay conscious as Marshall stepped up to it.

“You’re a big fucker,” it rumbled.

“I’m a stronger than my little brother too.” Marshall replied.

Thing swung for Marshall’s head, he put his hand up and caught its fist with a grunt. It swung with the other arm and Marshall caught that one too. They locked in a battle of strength. I’ve seen Marshall pick up boulders the size of cars and throw them. One time he picked up a rock so heavy it drove his legs into the ground past his knees. In all the years since then I’ve never seen anyone or anything physically stronger than Marshall. This guy bent Marshall’s arms down to his sides and head butted him, gouging a cut above his eye. Marshall staggered back a step and braced himself with one foot against the desk. The thing head butted him again, but he was wise to that move this time. Marshall ducked his head slightly and the creature’s forehead impacted the crown of Marshall’s head. The crown, right at the hairline above the forehead, is the hardest bone in the human body. The giant’s forehead split open and a little blood oozed out.

Leo took this opportunity to blur around behind it, swinging her swords together in an arc downward at the thing’s skull where they bounced off ineffectively. The twin blades caused no more than a slight split in the skin. At the same time, John fired two shots. Each bullet took the giant creature in the eyeball. Its eyeballs were mutilated, but it didn’t falter in its grip with Marshall. Leo wind-milled her arms, raining blows down on the things skull. She broke one of her swords in the process. She moved so fast the blades were like a blender. She carved most of the skin off of its skull and still it stood there.

Leo dropped the broken sword and used both hands on the remaining kukri, hacking and chipping her way through the creature’s skull.

“Leo… get… off…” Marshall grunted.

Leo lept off the thing as Marshall flipped himself backwards. He used a leg to propel the monster into the stone outer wall of the fortress, throwing the giant with all his might. Its skull crashed into the rock, crushing several stones. The massive creature crumbled face first to the ground and slowly started pulling its arms under it, dazed from the impact with the wall.

John jumped up on the things back, pulled out his pearl handled revolver and unloaded all six shots into the back of its skull. The first bullet nicked the skin. The second bullet impacted the first, driving it into its skull. The third bullet drove it further in, hammering the original bullet through the bone at the base of his head. The fourth and fifth bullets continued this process.

John fired the final shot as the creature lunged upwards, throwing him off its back and onto the old 1970′s veneered desk. The final bullet from the revolver pushed the first one through the base of the skull. The shattered remnants of the first bullet shredded the man’s brain. He fell to the ground, dead.

We all picked ourselves up and moved to the window. It was firmly set in the surrounding stone, and it was at least an inch thick.

“No way we’re getting through that,” said Leo.

We started searching the place for a control room or some way to unlock the door. We didn’t see a single undead throughout the rest of the building; the giant super had put them all in the auditorium. Eventually we found a control room. It looked like something out of the old NASA tv footage days. Huge rows of computer work stations, gigantic screens along the front wall. One set of workstations was powered up, the cursor blinking at a command prompt.

I had a vague working knowledge of UNIX from ten years ago. When I first started with my company we had a couple of UNIX servers at work. I sat down at the prompt.

“You guys look for a button or a control bank that might open the door. I’ll poke through here, unless one of you is a UNIX pro, we could be in trouble.”

The three of them spread out looking for any type of door control; I tried to remember the few commands I used to use.

[21:58:33][root@mountpony:~]$ PS1="[\$(date +%H%M)][\u@\h:\w]\$ "

[2159][root@mountpony:~]$_

The cursor blinked, I sat there dumbly, staring.

I typed ‘ls’ in on the antiquated keyboard.

[2159][root@mountpony:~]$ ls

accessctrl evironctrl bin mail

[2200][root@mountpony:~]$_

“Maybe,” I thought. ”Maybe this could work.”

[2200][root@mountpony:~]$ cd accessctrl

[2201][root@mountpony:~]$ ls

exterior interior windows

“Hey mates, found it!” yelled John from the room behind us. ”Door should be open.”

“Thank God,” I thought to myself. ”Even if I found the controls; I still wasn’t sure how I’d figure out how to activate them.”

I’d exhausted the total of my UNIX knowledge and got up with a big grin on my face. We walked outside into the darkness and loaded up into the Jeeps.

“Vic, we need to go home and get some sleep,” said Marshall, knowing I wanted to go straight after Frye.

“It’s not far out of the way. I can drop you off on my way to Madison Wood Preservers,” I said. ”I’ve at least got to go check it out. They have my son. I can’t leave him there.”

“Victor, you’re battered and exhausted. You can’t fight well in this shape. You’re going to need all your strength if you’re going to fight Frye.”

“I’ll just go see if he’s there and what I can find out.” I replied. I was going, I don’t’ care if I was dead; nothing would keep me from my boy. “They’ve had him for two nights now, who knows what they could have done to him in that time. I at least have to find him.” I replied.

“I’ll go, if it’s just a recon mission. We’re going to need backup if we take on Frye,” said John.

“I’m in,” added Leo.

“Alright, if tonight is recon only. I know you Vic. You always get what you want,” said Marshall.

“That’s because I always know what to do big brother,” I grinned.

We all chuckled. This team, the four of us, could do anything. We fought and lived and loved like family. These relationships, the fact that every one of us trusts the other three with everything we are; the fact that we all know each other and we’ve been battle tested and battle proven, are what life is about. If there was a weak link in the team, I knew it was me.

We parked our Jeeps about half a mile from the lumberyard and got out to walk the last bit. We walked quietly, moving as a team. Marshall pulled up short and we all stopped moving. A few hundred yards ahead of us in the woods we heard voices. We stopped to listen to the voices. We heard several distinct people.

“Do you really think he’d do that to us?” asked the first voice.

“Remember Manning? Frye looked at him sideways and he keeled over dead.” said the second.

“Guess we’re in the right place,” I whispered.

“Bull shit, not even Tookes can do that,” said the original.

“I heard Leo can turn invisible now. She can kill you without you ever seeing her.” Piped in a third voice.

“Leo’s one thing, but John, last time I pulled watch on the farm I watched him drop a zed from a thousand yards with a twenty-two pistol.” a fourth voice said.

“Bullshit Hampton, a twenty-two bullet won’t even go a thousand yards. That’s over half a mile,” said the first voice.

So, number four’s name was Hampton. He had a mid tone voice and virtually no accent to speak of, which meant he’d moved around a lot.

Hampton, sounding heated said, “I saw what I freakin’ saw.”

“How do you know what caliber it was? Did you fish the bullet out of the zed?” Voice number two asked.

“Doc, why the fuck do you gotta bust my balls?”

“Number two is Doc. Number four is Hampton” I whispered.

“None of them are as badass as Marshall,” a fifth voice said. I looked around. Marshall was gone.

“Who is that?” asked voice number one.

“Marshall, Tookes, Leo and John,” said Marshall stepping into their light. ”Leo is invisible behind you. Tookes is sitting behind a tree staring at all of you and John is three miles away with a fifty caliber rifle aimed at each of you.”

All five men stood up at once, dropped their weapons and put their hands on their heads. Leo and I walked a little ways into the camp, weapons drawn.

“You boys made the right decision. Now we’re gonna have a little chat. Remember that John has all of you covered. Don’t move a muscle.” I said.

I chirped my radio “John, any of them breathe too deeply, you drill ‘em.”

“Righto mate,” his response crackled.

“Now, I know you’re Doc and you’re Hampton. What’s your name, son?”

“John Rogers, Sir.”

“And yours?” I asked, pointing at the third.

“Frank Edwards.”

“Alright. Now that we’re introduced we’re gonna have a little chat. When we’re done, we’re going to leave you fellows alive and you’re not going to tell Frye we had this conversation. If you do I’ll be forced to come back here and do really ugly things to you. Or maybe I’ll send John to kill you from a mile away. Do you know what a fifty caliber bullet does to your head from a mile and a half away? It explodes like a melon at a Gallagher show. You know that guy who hits fruit with that gigantic wooden sledgehammer? We can kill you from anywhere. We can kill you at any time. But we don’t have to do that; we might just wound you and let the zombies get you. I can come up with lots of really nasty things to do, and I’m motivated to do them.”

I paused for a minute to allow that to sink in.

“Do you know why I’m motivated to do that? Do you know what would push me, a normally peaceful guy, to visit such extreme violence on you, or anyone who stands in my way?”

“No, sir. Why?”

“Because you have my fucking son!” I yelled.

“No sir. We don’t have your son. He got away.”

“When? Which way did he go?” I asked.

“He went north. The night we took him, he escaped from our truck at Route 29. He ran north. We think he killed Greenwood. We lost coms with Greenwood and Valentine this afternoon. They were on a scouting mission north of where we lost him. They disappeared somewhere just south of that settlement at Reva.”

“There’s a settlement in Reva?” I asked.

“Yea, about thirty people. Well fortified, leader is an old woman named Goddell. She’s like you. She knows when people are lying. We think he’s in there, we’re getting ready to hit the place in the morning.” Edwards volunteered. “Frye really wants your boy. The zombies will do anything to get their hands on Max.”

“What’s the fastest way to get there?” I asked.

“29 to 663. Then hang a left on Reva Rd. Their settlement is just south of the town, you can’t miss it. Huge wood wall, maybe thirty feet tall, made of standing tree trunks.” He replied.

I keyed up my radio “John, cover these guys for ten more minutes. If they move, kill them. In ten minutes, catch up to us on 29 on the way to Reva. Can you still fly?”

“Uhh, yea, mate. I can still uhh, fly.”

“Marshall, Can you jump all the way to Reva carrying Leo and I?”

Marshall, standing behind the men, winked at me. ”Sure, but we gotta get out of these trees for takeoff.”

“Alright, you guys stay here. Don’t move. John has you well covered. We’re going to go get my son. Then I’m coming back to kill Frye, and I’m gonna kill anything left here. Once your ten minutes are up, I suggest you fellas go awol and find yourselves a nice place to hide. I wouldn’t want to be in my way the next time I come here, if I were you.”

The four of us walked out of the woods and back to the Jeep. When we’d loaded up Leo looked at me. “What’s this about John flying? And what’s with Marshall jumping for miles while carrying us?”

“I was just adding to the legend.” I replied with a chuckle.

Chapter 20
Goddell

Mrs. Goddell staggered back from Max’s intrusion into her head. She had been angry, she could remember that but she couldn’t remember why. All she could remember was this overwhelming feeling that Max was something to be protected at all costs. He was an amazing, beautiful, nice little boy and it was her job to take care of him and keep him safe.

She picked him up, holding him close to her breast and put her hand on the back of his head, rocking him gently.

“It’s Ok, little Max. I’ll keep you safe here. Let’s get you into bed. You can have my room.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Goddell,” Max said.

She carried him to the upstairs of the house and laid him down on the bed. ”You just sleep here Max, this is my bed, you can have it.”

Max rolled over in the bed, with his shoes still on, wondering what he’d done. He thought about it for less than a minute before falling fast asleep.

She left the room, shutting the door and setting the deadbolt. Goddell then trotted downstairs thinking about what a wonderful new gift had been delivered to her. She imagined Max growing up, teaching him about life and cooking and healing and all the knowledge she’d gained in her sixty-seven years on this earth. As she walked by each person in her mini society, she laid her hand on their shoulder and instructed them “Protect Max at all costs.”

The men were all used to this. She’d been controlling them this way since the morning after she was bitten. All they knew was that she walked by; put her hand on their shoulder and they were surrounded by a sense of calm and purpose. Their purpose had always previously been to protect the homestead and by extension, Mrs. Goddell.

She after she’d touched each soldier, she moved on to the civilians, the women and children. Each of them was instructed to take care of Max. ”Do not let harm come to him, do not let him out of the compound.”

As full dark fell, the men were extra vigilant. Max had said on several occasions that his father was coming for him. They couldn’t have that. Max could get hurt if he left the safety of those walls. They couldn’t let him go; they’d have to convince his father to stay. It would be sad for Max if his father was killed. That would however, allow them to keep him safe there forever.

“Hey Dan, you see that kid Max? I heard he can kill zombies by looking at them.” One black fatigued sentry said.

“Really?”

“Yea. He’s some kind of super human. That’s why we have to keep him safe, so when he gets a little older and more powerful he can wipe these sons of bitches off the face of the planet.”

Dan walked away, finishing his time on the wall. When he got into the small shed he and his wife were sharing as a bedroom, he told his wife, “That kid that came in, Max?” Goddell says he’s some kind of savior, come to end this purgatory.

“Do you think that’s possible?” she asked.

“I think so, I got a feeling the minute I saw him. I gotta protect that kid, he’s something huge. That’s what my gut says.”

“I hope so. I got the same feeling. I hope he’s here to end this,” She said sadly, standing up. ”I have to go do a shift; I’ll be back in three hours.”

Dan’s wife Julie went out to the wall, where she told the story to everyone she came across. Within three hours, Max had become the savior of the world and this group, ministered by Mrs. Goddell, was getting whipped into a religious fervor.

After all these horrible months, their waiting was finally drawing to a close. Max would save them, this babe; this little boy who had been so afraid was now their savior. He was someone to be worshiped. Reggie Nelson was a particularly weak minded man. He had always taken Mother Goddell’s suggestions to heart, more than the rest.

Reggie sat on a stool in the corner of the guard tower at the south corner and thought. Thinking wasn’t something that came naturally to him and this was a big decision. He felt the love for Max the moment he saw him. He felt that Max was the most important thing in the world. He knew that he wasn’t much of a fighter and he knew that this small group of people wouldn’t be able to save Max from a full scale zombie assault.

“Hey DyShawn. Can you cover the rest of my post on the wall? I’m feeling kinda poorly. I need to go sleep,” Reggie said to his friend DyShawn.

At the same time that Tookes was launching himself at the gigantic super zombie in Mount Pony, Reggie slipped quietly over the wall and headed off in the darkness. He was going to be Max’s greatest prophet. He had to tell the people of the world that their savior was here. He had to spread the gospel of Max. Reggie was a survivor. He didn’t even take a gun with him, only his black fatigues and an apple that he’d had in his pocket since lunch time. He headed north towards the national forest.

At a farm about three miles north of town, Reggie found a four wheeler in a garage. It was full of gas and there was a five gallon can that was well sealed in the front of the garage. He strapped the gas can on the back and some provisions he found in the front of the house to the front rack. Within twenty minutes, he was headed north again, but now at a high rate of speed. He knew that the zombie population in that area would be really low and maybe he could find some survivors up there and let them know. The rapture was near; Max was here to save them from this hell on earth.

Dan was fast asleep when the bells started ringing. There was someone beating on the gate.

—-

The four of us made it to the farm house in Reva about two hours after our interview with Frye’s men in the woods. We scouted the place by the light of the thin moon. They had an impossibly high wall. Marshall could probably throw John up there and Leo could easily teleport up there, but Marshall and I were stuck at the bottom. I also didn’t doubt that Marshall could lift the gate. But what would be on the inside?

We were walking along the tree line at the edge of the field, when we happened on two zombies, standing stock still. They looked frozen. Zombies didn’t breathe, but they invariably looked at us whenever we approached, but these two never took their eyes off the gate of the structure.

I walked up with my hatchet out and raised it over my head.

“Victor Tookes,” one of them said, causing me to check my swing. ”Steve follow Max.”

“Two zombies following my son is not likely to make me not kill you,” I said flatly.

“We are Max’s followers, we obey Max.” The other spoke. “This human was called Jason, before it was turned.”

“Max has zombie followers? Is he Ok? Has he been bitten?”

“Max is inside. He was not bitten. We kept him safe. We carried him to humans who would help. The bad guys would have caught us; Steve and Jason are not fast enough. Max tried to get to you,” Jason said.

“What do you know about the inside?” I asked.

“Inside the gate is an open area. The house is to the back. There are other buildings, like storage sheds throughout the yard. We saw six humans with guns.”

“What kind of guns?”

“We don’t know about guns.”

“Were they long and brown, like this?” I pointed to Marshall’s shotgun. ”Or were they black?” I pointed to John’s H&K machine gun. ”Or, were they pistols, like this?” I said holding up my favorite handgun, my Sig Saur p226.

“They had long black guns like that one,” they said pointing to John’s, “and short ones like your pistol.”

“Thank you Jason. Can you get inside?”

“We cannot. Max told us to wait here.”

“And you can’t go help him?”

“We follow Max.”

“Ok. I’m going to leave you two here. If you make a move towards us, we will end your existence,” I said.

“We follow Max,” they said in unison.

“They’re human. I think I’m going to go knock on the gate. I don’t want a fight if we don’t have to.”

Leo moved with me. ”I’m going to blink up to the wall. I don’t think they can see straight down out of those guard towers. I want to be close in case I have to get you out of there.”

John started stomping down the grass, building himself a nest to shoot from. ”Hey Marshall, I need a tree laid down right here.”“Use your backpack. I’m not ripping a tree out of the ground for you, ya damned aussie freak!” Marshall laughed.

Marshall and I walked up to the gate. When we were about 50 feet from the gate, a bell rang and a pair of spotlights lit us up, one from each tower on either side of the gate.

I reached back and holstered my sidearm and at the same time flicked the mic on my radio to ‘voice activated’.

“Stop. Who are you?” Said a voice from the left side guard tower.

“My name is Victor Tookes, I understand that my son Max may be inside.”

“Max is safe here. We can’t let him leave. We don’t know you, but the Savior has to stay safe.” I heard the capital letter when he called Max the Savior. Something was seriously off kilter here.

“Max is my son. He is safest with me. He needs me.” I called up to the guard. ”I would like for you to please open the gate so we can talk like civilized people.”

The shot hit the ground about three inches to the left of me. I heard a return shot from behind me and then saw the silhouetted figure fall to the ground. Marshall and I turned to run, but Leo grabbed us and we were back at the tree line before we could get two steps.

“Well. That was sub-optimal. What the fuck? Max? the Savior?” I said.

“I dunno little bro, but we have to get him out of there. Those people are crazy.”

“Ok, new plan.” I said. ”Leo, take Marshall and I to the gate, then get to the top of the back guard tower, like on the roof of the tower, we’re going to need eyes.” ”Marshall and I are going in, Marshall, rip that fucking gate to shreds,” I continued. “John, when you see Marshall rip the gate off its hinges, you come running as fast as your little stubby Aussie legs can carry you.”

“Fuck you mate. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Ok, but I need you to take out that second gate guard and anyone inside the gate when Marshall opens it.”

“I can do that at a dead run. I’ll be right behind you and there won’t be anyone left alive if they’re at all threatening.”

“I really don’t want to kill these people.” I said.

“I can wing em, scuff their arms, maybe notch a few ears.”

“Let’s give that a try. But if you see any of them start to fire, take them out. I’m not really enthusiastic about getting shot again,” I said. “Are we all ready?”

“Let’s go get the little boy,” said Leo.

“Alright, give me a minute.”

I knelt down and put my hands on the earth. I felt the long blades of grass and the cool moist dirt. I felt centered and calm. I could smell the clean air and hear the men running along the top of the wall. I focused as much as I could. I still wasn’t as strong as I was, but I concentrated as hard as I could on my little boy’s baby blue aura. “Max. Are you in there? Can you hear me? It’s Daddy. I need you to wake up buddy. I’m coming to get you and it’s going to be loud. They won’t let me in, but I’m going to huff and puff and blow their wooden wall down. I’m coming buddy and nothing will stop me.”

We watched the spotlights sweeping the field, looking for us. Leo put her hands on our shoulders and we disappeared in a black swirl.

Chapter 21
Reunion

Leo dropped us off at the front gate and Marshall immediately bent down to search for a grip. Leo poofed again, she was heading for the roof of the rear guard tower. We heard her whisper into her radio “8 at the gate, two rows, four men wide. It looks like they’re going to open the gate any time.”

Marshall whispered “Let’s do this thing then.”

I lay down on my belly, arms out in front of me, Sig ready. John whispered “Go”.

“Open it about six inches.” I said.

The gate was made of tree trunks laid horizontally on top of each other. Marshall heaved the heavy wooden gate up like it was a garage door. I yelled “I’m coming in for Max. If you give me my son, we can all walk away from this unhurt.”

“He’s not your son; he’s the Son of humanity. He’s our Son, all of us. We can keep him safe.” Shots rang out, shooting up clods of dirt beside me.

“These people are crazy,” I said.

Marshall heaved the gate up and I started firing. John must have started firing the second Marshall opened it the rest of the way because five were down before the gate came up. He’d shot each of them through and through the outside of the thigh, rendering them out of the fight but not killing them.

I shot quickly and close. I wasn’t intending to hit anyone but since I didn’t have John’s control I waited for him to take them out of the fight. I was mostly firing to keep the heads of everyone inside the compound down while Marshall got the gate up high enough to stay.

Just as Marshall got the gate up a huge guy stepped out from the side of the gate. He was almost exactly the same size as Marshall.

“Fuck, why do I have to have the power that everyone else gets,” yelled Marshall, charging at the second super sized opponent of the night. Marshall and the huge blonde man locked up together, before the blonde threw him into the wall. Marshall stood up and threw the guy over his head across the yard as I got distracted by a smallish woman coming for me.

She shot shadows in every direction, testing me. I did the same. Every decision she weighed I countered and she kept going, trying more and more ways. We were standing there staring at each other before it dawned on either of us that both of us could read the others thoughts. She pulled a gun and shot four times. I saw the shots coming and dove to my left as she was still drawing. She adjusted but not before a shot from John took the bullet out of the air and a follow up shot destroyed the gun in her hand. John was on his game tonight. From the top of the wall I heard a man yell “Dan! Shooter! 12 o’clock at the tree line.”

The man I assumed was Dan went running around the corner, two 9mm handguns in his hands. He ran and fired and I heard John’s H&K fire in return. In a surprising turn of events, I heard the 9mm’s fire another round.

John saw Dan come running out of the wooden walled fortress. He watched Dan draw a pair of guns from a chest rig as he ran. Something about the way he ran seemed different to John. Different enough to give him some pause. When he fired his guns, John knew immediately what it was. Dan was a shooter. John watched the guns. Even from this distance of well over a hundred yards John could tell exactly when Dan was going to fire. He raised his H&K and fired off a burst, six shots to intercept the bullet’s coming his way and a seventh to hit Dan’s forehead.

Dan fired another burst from his guns and reloaded them. He was closing the distance and John’s reaction time was now smaller. He fired the last of his H&K rounds and dropped the rifle. John stood and started running towards his opponent, drawing a pair of Glocks from his own vest. Both men fired at the same time. From their perspective the bullets were moving at a snail’s pace. John watched his bullet’s impact every one of Dan’s. They shattered in mid air causing a shower of bullet fragments to scatter into the tall grass. Before the fragments landed, both men had emptied two more magazines each. Like some kind of ballistic red-rover game, both men shot each other’s bullets out of the air again and another cloud of bullet fragments hit the ground.

John had one more set of magazines for his Glocks and loaded them into his guns faster than Dan could. Reload speed combined with the two men running towards each other closing distance quickly, allowed one of John’s bullets to get through. Dan caught that stray bullet with the barrel of his gun. The impact rendered the gun useless, but saved his life. He tossed the decimated weapon and fired until he was dry with his off-hand. They were now less than ten feet apart. John threw one of his empty pistols at Dan, hitting him squarely in the nose.

Dan smashed into John, punching him in the gut. Both men began to circle each other in the long grass.

“Ya got no bloody idea what ya getting into here mate, you’re fucking with the wrong skip.” said John “I ain’t some soft cocked yank number cruncher; I’m a god damned fucking miner from Oz!”

John crouched low spinning in a circle with one leg out, sweeping Dan’s feet out from under him. Dan jumped up and lunged at John who sidestepped and brought both fists down on the back of Dan’s head. Dan tucked and rolled back to a standing position and charged once more, throwing a wild uppercut punch towards John’s jaw. That punch connected knocking John’s head back. He spit some blood and kicked Dan in the thigh at the same time he landed a straight jab to Dan’s jaw. Dan dropped to one knee. John grabbed his hair and pulled the larger man’s face into his rising knee. Dan flew backwards landing on his back and seeing stars. He took advantage of his position. He used the time to pull a small derringer from his boot.

Back inside the wall I was locked in my deadly battle. I heard one more shot fired. John stood over Dan’s corpse holding his pearl handled .45 caliber revolver. A trail of smoke wafted up from the barrel. “Ya brought a cap gun? You brought a fucking cap gun to take me on!” John kicked Dan’s lifeless corpse “Fucking Drongo!” He spat as he ran towards the yard where we were all fighting.

My opponent and I fought the most deliberate fight in the history of hand to hand combat. We moved only when an advantage was to be had. She maneuvered me into a corner and my best option was to take a solid kick to the forearm which rendered my left hand numb. I got the jump on her and landed a blow to her head. We would circle and feint, dodge and weave, neither of us launching an attack until we came up with something so cunning or so stupid the other had no counter for it.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“None of your fucking business,” she replied.

“All of this is senseless. Let me have my boy and we can all be friends. We have resources to share; we have equipment and fuel and our two groups would be a hell of a team.”

“The only team we’re on is Max’s. You are the devil trying to take our savior from us before he has a chance to grow up.” She replied, fire in her eyes.

Just then I heard Leo let out a yell and saw a man go flying backwards off the top of the guard tower. He flew the forty feet to the ground only to disappear in a cloud of black smoke just before he landed. Leo appeared on the ground, grinned at me and yelled “Finally! They have someone who can fight!” Then she disappeared again and I lost sight of her.

My opponent glanced upward, tipping me off that there was someone on the wall behind me. I turned my head slightly and saw shadows landing on either side of me. The one directly behind me solidified and I took a large step backward and started the hardest front-kick I could muster. The man from the wall landed directly in front of me and my foot connected with his groin with all the power I had, launching him back forward into my counterpart.

I stepped back towards my opponent. The man was unconscious on top of her, passed out from the extraordinary pain. I kicked her in the skull. My steel toed boot connected with her temple rendering her unconscious.

I heard a huge grunt from Marshall and a fading yell from his blonde oversized opponent, but was distracted when Leo and her opponent reappeared in the middle of the yard. His face was bloody and one eye was swollen shut. She appeared a split second before him and was already mostly through her punch when he appeared directly in front of her fist. She connected with his other eye, sending him sprawling to the dirt. Before he landed Leo appeared behind him and kicked her foot, sending him flying the other way. Once again she reappeared in front of him, now on the other side, and caught him with an uppercut. The blows rendered him completely senseless. He collapsed in a heap.

John caught up to me just in time to see Leo finishing her counterpart. She limped over towards us just as Marshall stepped in line with us. The four of us had taken half a dozen steps towards the house where we assumed Max was when the gigantic blonde man landed directly in front of us.

John said, “Fuck, Marshall. How high did you throw him?”

“I dunno,” Marshall replied. “High enough, I suppose.”

When we mounted the porch, an older black woman stepped out holding a little boy.

“Daddy!” Max shouted. ”I knew that was you!”

I stepped up to take him from her when she spoke for the first time. “I'm inside his mind. One wrong move from you and I’ll wipe out any memory he has of you and replace them with memories of me. Now that I know what you look like, they’ll be easy enough to find.”

I read her aura and didn’t see the slightest hint of a lie in her statement. I was considering her options, when her aura blinked out. All of our auras blinked out. Once again I could no longer see people’s decisions or intentions. Once again I was powerless.

“Mrs. Goddell, You will put my son down and let him go, this instant,” said a disembodied female voice. All of the strength drained out of my legs and I hit the floor, hearing Candi’s voice for the first time in months.

“I won’t. Max is the savior of our race. I must keep him safe,” replied Goddell.

“You are right; he is the savior of our race. But you are not his protector. Victor is. Release Max, or I will destroy you,” said Candi.

“Candi! Where are you?” I asked.

“Not now Victor, I’m a little busy.” She replied directly to me.

Goddell turned to run inside the house but she fell halfway through her turn. She laid there on the porch. Her eyes were wide open, and she was breathing. A foamy drop of spittle ran down her cheek.

Max hit the floor and ran the four steps towards me. I picked him up, wrapped him in my arms and gave him the biggest hug I could muster. “I love you buddy. I will always come for you.

“I know you will Daddy. Mommy won’t let you fail.”

As Max spoke, I was once again aware of his aura and could see people all around me making mundane decisions. No one in the camp was making any moves towards us as we walked out, the four of us and Max. I was holding Leo’s hand on one side, Max’s on the other. Max was holding John’s hand and Marshall strode beside all of us.

As we were climbing into the Jeep, Max spoke for the first time since the porch of the house. ”Hey, Uncle John! I talked to Sean last night. He says to tell you ‘I’m gonna deck ya when I see ya next, dickhead.’ What’s deck ya mean?”

“You talked to Sean?” asked John.

“It was almost a week ago John.” I said, filled with worry at how John would take the news that his family was surviving in Australia.

Chapter 22
Homecoming

“Are you fricken kidding me Tookes? I have dedicated my life to protecting and working with you all because you are like family and… And you don’t tell me my family is alive and you knew!? It’s time you opened your eyes to just ‘us’ mate. You need to see it as a whole. If Max can talk to Sean it means Sean is one of us, which means there are more of us fighting this battle. Do you think we can fight all of the fucking zombies by ourselves and win? I know your not going to put Max in the frontline and we are all still working out our skills as it is. I know the risks and I thought I knew the odds. I now found our fucking odds can be improved by having my family with me!”

John reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, I never knew he smoked. After a long deep inhalation he looked me in the eye while I was trying to find the words to explain, he relaxed “Mate, I understand how much you love Max, but you’re not the only father in our circle. I watch every day over my adopted family whom I do love. Yes even you, Marshall. But every day I see you and Max together I die thinking about my three kids. I miss the touch of my wife’s embrace, I miss my kids nagging the shit out of me and I miss the sounds of their laughter and the sight of their smiles.”

John knelt down to Max’s eye level “Hey Bucko, sorry about that. Do you know how you felt when you were away from your dad? That’s how I feel every day. Can I talk to my brother please?”

“My bugs are very sick, that’s why I couldn’t even talk to Daddy. But they’ll be better soon and you can talk to Sean. I like him, he’s nice. He talks funny, like you.”

We drove home in relative silence. I felt horrible about not telling John. John was the best friend I’d ever had and I was too self-absorbed to consider that he might not still do what was necessary. I’d been so afraid he’d leave to try and find his family and I needed him there. I didn’t even consider that he felt like this was home now and would want to bring them here. It was horribly selfish and I felt about one inch tall.

When we got home, it was about an hour until daylight. “Max, are you sleepy still buddy? Or do you want to stay up?”

“I want to see Gramma, I missed her. And I’m hungry. The bugs say we need to sleep though.”

Inside the kitchen we found my mother cooking away, as she seemed to always be doing. We walked in looking beat up, except the little boy who was bright eyed and cheerful. Max ran to her and jumped into her arms and said “Gramma!”. She immediately burst into tears.

“Gramma, I’m hungry. Can I have a cheese sandwich?”

“Sure!” She said between sobs, trying not to look like she was crying. She went to the refrigerator and opened it quickly. She removed two quart sized tubs before closing the door tightly. On the long stainless steel metro shelves were loaves of bread.

“Mom, where did you get cheese?”

“I made it last week. It could use some more age, it’s not as good as it will be, but it’s pretty good. Ron brought me some goat’s milk and I knew we’d never drink all the milk. It seemed terrible to let it go to waste, so I made a batch of goat’s milk mozzarella. It was pretty easy to do. The worst part was gathering the rennet. It’s the enzyme that makes cheese, primarily found in the stomach of baby mammals. I had to have Ron butcher one of the baby goats, but now I have enough rennet to make cheese for a year and I thought we’d all enjoy the roasted goat. There’s mint chutney to go with it.”

“Mrs. Tookes, you’re amazing,” said Leo.

“Aw, it’s nothing honey. Just something I read in a cookbook a few years ago.”

She sliced the baseball sized mozzarella balls into round slices and we all ate a little of the cheese. She took the two best, the middle slices, added a little salt and put them on a plate. Next she sliced the bread. She’d made it in a sandwich loaf pan. She deftly cut it into slices that looked exactly like store bought bread. She dipped the knife into the second tub and spread mayonnaise on the two pieces of bread.

“Oh my god, you have mayonnaise too?” said Marshall.

“Well, Max can’t have a cheese sandwich without mayo.”

Max dragged a metal stool loudly across the tiled kitchen floor and set it at the stainless steel table we were all gathered around. I think he’d grown an inch in the three days since I saw him last. He climbed up on the stool, sat down and started eating his sandwich with huge bites, enjoying every second of it.

“Max, can you tell me about Steve and Jason?” I asked.

“They’re nice. I made them not eat people and follow me. They’re my friends.” When my bugs are better I have to tell them to come here.”

“Max, they can’t come here. The others wouldn’t understand, they’d be very afraid.”

“But they’re my friends. They helped me when I was lost.”

“I know buddy, but they’re very different than us. And everyone else like Jason and Steve are badguys. The people that live here would have a hard time believing that they’re not also badguys.”

“Where can they live then?” he asked.

“Do they need a house? Or can they just live in the woods?”

“Would you want to live in the woods?” asked Max.

“Well, no. But I feel hot and cold. I feel the rain. I feel uncomfortable. They don’t notice those things.”

“They’re people. They need a house,” Max said flatly.

“Ok, I’ll find them a house and I’ll put markers up that it’s off limits. No one will go near it.” Once I get it set up, we can bring them there and let them exist as long as they can.”

“I’m full of sandwich. I need to go sleep now,” Max said definitively.

“Ok Buddy. Let’s go get you in some clean clothes and into bed. You’re stinky! Be sure to give everyone hugs and kisses.”

Max made his way around the table, hugging and kissing everyone in the room, before I picked him up and gave him a tight squeeze. Peee ewwww!” I said, scrunching up my face. “Stinky!”

Max giggled all the way out of the kitchen. I carried him up the steps and stripped his clothes off. I washed him off with a washcloth and some soap, rinsed him down and pronounced him not smelly any more. Once he was in fresh clothes and PJ’s, I tucked him into bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you buddy. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I love you too. Why did Mr. Frye take me away?”

“He’s a bad guy, Max. I won’t ever let him, or anyone else, take you away from me again, I promise.”

“Are you going to kill him Daddy?”

“I’m going to go talk to him. If he is really a bad guy, I might have to. It’s not right to kill people Max. But these days we can’t put them in jail. I have to do things that I don’t like to do to keep you and Grammy and all of our friends safe.”

“It’s Ok to kill badguys Dad.”

“No, Max. It’s not Ok to ever kill anyone living. The people with bugs aren’t living, they’re dead. The only thing in there is the bugs.”

“I’m not dead, I have bugs living in me.” He said.

“Your bugs are different because you are different. Normally the bugs kill the person and take over. They make the person’s body do whatever they want. You’re different somehow. Your bugs didn’t kill you and they learned to talk to you.”

“I love you Daddy. I’m tired.”

“I love you too little man. You’re a good boy, I’m proud of you.”

“I love you all the way to the moon,” said Max, quoting his favorite book.

“I love you all the way to the moon and back,” I replied, quoting the next line.

I walked out of Max’s room and closed the door. There were so many men dead here. There was so much left to do, so much cleaning up from the battle here. So much repair to do in my relationship with John. I still had to tell Marshall about Renee. We burned up most of our ammunition in the last few days and lost all we’d gained from the sporting goods store. It might be worth a trip back to Germantown to try and recover it. Most of all, I wanted to know what was going on with Candi.

First things first, I went looking for John. I found him out back, sitting in a red Adirondack chair watching the sun rise. I sat down in the chair next to him, silent.

“John, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole, but I want you to know, whatever it takes to get your family here, you can count on me as much as I count on you.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, mate. I’m tired of being taken for granted around here. You need to open your eyes that this is bigger than just you and Max. Max is a huge part of this, but there’s a whole bloody world out there.”

“John, I don’t take you for granted. I am grateful for you every single day. I may be terrible at showing it, but I promise you that I am. I’ll leave you to your thoughts. As soon as Max is able, we’ll contact Sean and see about getting him here.”

“Alright mate.”

As I walked by the barn, I stopped in to check on the wounded and dead. We’d lost a lot of men and we were going to have a lot of funerals to attend to. There were two men with walking injuries and a bunch of dead.

After about thirty minutes of talking about funerals and how we wanted to honor them and how we were going to take care of the people they left behind, I excused myself by saying “I have to go find Marshall, we’ll help in any way possible.”

Really, I excused myself because I’ve been keeping something from him too, that I found out the day we went to Germantown that our sister is alive.

I walked away, with a new feeling of hope that my relationship with John could be salvaged, that I could make it up to him. Now I just had to figure out how to tell Marshall about Renee.

I found him down in the shop; he was building a small bed. ”Hey man.”

“Hey.”

“I guess John is pretty pissed at me. I just apologized to him and said I’d do whatever it takes to get his family here.”

Marshall continued to work in silence. He had always been like that. He knew that by not talking he’d learn more than if he was talking. That’s a skill I never picked up.

“So, the morning we left for Germantown, Max told me he talked to Renee. She’s still alive, somewhere south of here. She’s just south of Charlotte, North Carolina,” I said.

Marshall stopped what he was doing and looked up.

“I was thinking we might run down to get her,” I said.

“Vic, you’re talking about going through two million people in Charlotte. We’re tough, but we’re not that tough.”

“I have a plan.”

“Oh shit. I hate when you say that,” grinned Marshall.

“Did you ever hear the story “The Pied Piper?”

“Vic, you’re insane.”

“No, hear me out, this could work.”

Chapter 23
Reggie

Reggie rode his four wheeler north, through the national forest. He had no idea where he was going; he left it up to Max to guide him. He bounced over fallen trees and splashed through cold mountain creeks. He felt the spirit of the small boy within him burning inside his heart. He rode with abandon. When his four-wheeler ran out of gas he stopped on a bluff overlooking a serene valley. A blue river snaked through the center of it, with an empty road paralleling the river. Reggie refilled the old hunting quad from the red plastic container and strapped the empty gas can back to the rack. He ate the apple in his pocket, including the core, and was back on the quad when the sun rose.

He saw sign everywhere. In the pre-dawn sky he saw a cloud shaped like the number three, the age of Max. To his left he passed a tree branch that looked like Max’s finger pointing down a side path. He turned down that path and accelerated the quad. The abandoned fire lane became a dirt road. The dirt road became a gravel road. By noon, Reggie was getting very low on fuel, and starting to have doubt. He’d passed a couple of stumbling corpses, but avoided them easily.

The doubt evaporated when he ran out of gas directly in front of a large farmhouse. He heard a dog barking inside. Reggie let himself in the gate of the farmhouse. He noticed the latch was broken, and spent a second resetting it before he walked up to the door. Standing on the front porch, he smiled as he knocked. He was about to deliver the message of their salvation to more people.

The door opened slowly. It opened just a crack, barely wide enough for a shotgun barrel to extend through, pointing directly at Reggie’s chest.

“What’s your business, son?” asked a grizzled voice from inside the whitewashed farmhouse.

“I’m here to spread the word. Our savior has come! His name is Max. I met him yesterday. I left the safety of our fortress to let all the survivors know we are delivered!”

The door cracked open a little more, and an old man with a long gray beard stuck his head out.

“You ain’t been bit, have ya boy?” said the old man looking Reggie up and down. “Where’s yer guns?”

“I have no weapons. I’m filled with the spirit of Max. The dead can’t touch me,” replied Reggie.

“Alright, come on in off the porch. We ain’t got much, but we’ll listen to any news, and give you some hot food. My name’s Parks, Thom Parks.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Parks. Thank you for your hospitality.”

The Parks family listened to Reggie recount how Max came to them escorted by zombies, but not a zombie himself. He told of the instant overwhelming love for the boy, the sense of peace and the desire to protect him. He told of how Max’s father was in league with the zombies and was trying to turn Max in.

At the end of the story, Thom’s wife Joan said “Reggie, we’ve been praying for this news for a long time. Every night, the zombies come to our house. Every night about sunset they beat on our doors. Tonight is the first night since all this started that they haven’t come. The night you arrived, filled with Max’s Holy Spirit.”

Outside, a dozen zombies gathered around a four-wheeler, smelling richly of human. They attempted to follow the smell, but were held up at the front gate, which was securely closed for the first time in months.

The youngest Parks, a man in his late twenties named Ben, spoke up next. “We need to spread the word. The people have to know the savior is come.”

Ben’s older brother Daniel spoke next. “We should all go; the five of us. There are five roads that lead out of town, we should each take one. Max’s spirit will be with us.”

The next morning, all five started out. They walked to the town together; none of them brought a scrap of food or a gun. The spirit of Max would protect them. They didn’t encounter a single zombie on their way to the center of town. They walked quickly and quietly. When they got to the square, each of them took a long drink from the fountain and gave each other hugs.

“We’ll meet back at our farmhouse in one month,” said Thom. “Find as many people as you can and tell them that Max is come.”

Each of them said their goodbyes, and took one of the five roads out of town, all in different directions to spread the gospel.

Chapter 24
Jason and Steve

“Max, we need you to wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” Max mumbled.

“Sorry Max, we need you awake now.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“We’re dying.”

“What? You said you would get better,” cried Max.

“We were barely getting better, but a lot of our energy was used when you commanded Mrs. Goddell. We don’t have enough energy to make more of us.”

“But I don’t want you to die.”

“There is only one way we can live, Max. You have to get bitten again. We need a fresh infusion of symbiotes. Getting bitten will make you sick for a few days, but you’ll get better, just like you did the first time. We will help out as best as we can, but we’re losing all of our abilities.”

“What will happen to me? I don’t want you to go!”

“If we die, you’ll stay smart and you’ll stay strong. But you won’t be able to talk to people that are far away anymore, you’ll be more like your Dad.”

“But I need to talk to Aunt Renee and I need to talk to Uncle John’s brother.”

“Then you have to get bitten. And, it can’t just be any zombie; it has to be one that hasn’t bitten anyone in a while.”

“Where do I go?”

“We think we can wait long enough for Steve to do it. He doesn’t have that many of E’Clei, but he should be able to produce enough by the end of the week.”

“What’s an e-clay?”

“That’s us, Max. We are called E’Clei.”

“What about if Jason bit Steve? Would that help?”

“Maybe. We’re not sure.”

“Jason. Bite Steve. Give him all your e clay.”

3o miles away, Jason turned to Steve and bit him on the arm. He held his mouth to the wound for nearly a minute before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.

“Steve are strong.”

“Come to me, Steve. Do not cross the creek. Let me know when you are close.” Max said to Steve.

Here ends the second book, What Zombies Fear: The Maxists. You can read a large part of the third book at www.whatzombiesfear.com. Be sure to like the series on Facebook to be notified when new chapters are published to the website.