Warpath: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (40 page)

Hunch confirmed.
“Copy that,” said Cade. He cycled
the two-way back to the previous channel and told the others to expect some
company. He ended the call and slipped the radio in a pocket. He snatched the
Glock off the seat and checked the chamber and mag. Shielding his eyes against
the setting sun, he opened the door and climbed down from the truck. He looked
uphill and scanned the tree line, stopping a foot-and-a-half to the right of
the spot he had pegged as the prime location to post a lookout and spotted the
slender form just as it slipped from the shadows.

A minute later, the wiry man dressed in camos and wearing a
tan ball cap had made his way down the hill to the fence. He passed his rifle
over the fence and crawled through himself. Shouldering his rifle, he strolled
to the centerline and introduced himself to Cade. After the pleasantries were
out of the way, a quick question and answer session ensued and then Phillip
sauntered over to the camouflaged entry.

Cade followed him all the way and then stopped in his tracks
and silently chastised himself for failing to notice the wall of faked foliage
overgrowing the fence for what it really was.
Clever set up
, he thought
as Phillip worked the lock.

After showing Cade how to get to the gate release, Phillip
swung it away quietly, faux flora and all, revealing the gravel feeder road.
“It’s a short drive,” said Phillip. Then, inexplicably, the achingly thin man
straightened up, faced Cade and delivered a pretty fair salute. “And they’ll be
waiting for you, sir.”

Humoring the man, Cade returned the salute. “Thank you,
Phillip. But the formalities and calling me sir are not necessary. In fact ...
I don’t recommend it.”

An uneasy smile fell upon Phillip’s face. Quietly he
negotiated the fence and, retracing his steps, trudged up the hill and melted
back into trees.

It was a tight fit but Brook succeeded in nosing the F-650
through the gate. After both trucks cleared the threshold, Cade closed the gate
and, reversing the process Phillip had just shown him, latched and locked it
behind them. As he hauled himself into the passenger seat, his gaze fell on the
tree-lined gravel track spilling away in front of them. Then, with the memory
of the cars and fencing abusing the Ford at the roadblock outside of
Huntsville, he looked sidelong at her, smiled, and said tongue-in-cheek, “Go
easy on the paint.”

Smartass
, thought Brook. Unable to think of an
appropriate comeback, she ignored the good-natured quip and glanced in the
rearview just as the Raptor’s headlights flicked on. Eager to get to the
compound and paint job be damned, she committed to the narrow one-lane feeder
road and cringed as the spine tingling nails-on-chalkboard-like sounds
commenced.

Inside the compound, headphones snugged on tight, Heidi, who
was still scanning the spectrum for ham radio signals, failed to hear the
trilling satellite phone on the shelf above. A minute later, however, the
two-way radio chimed and skittered and danced all over the desktop, alerting
her to Phillip’s incoming call. She listened intently and, a long while later
when Phillip had nothing more to add but small talk, said, “Gotta go,” and
ended the call.

Radio in hand, she hustled down the corridor and rousted Lev
from a deep slumber. Without allowing him time to rake the sleep from his eyes,
she told him about the new arrivals and how Phillip had determined they were
who they said they were. Then she asked him to go up and welcome them.

Lev stretched and yawned. He ran his hands over his closely
cropped hair and said sleepily, “Didn’t think they were going to be here until
tomorrow.”

“Well ... they’re here now.”

“Where’s Duncan?”

“I haven’t seen him in hours.”

Pulling on an olive-drab tee-shirt, ARMY emblazoned up
front, Lev asked, “And Daymon ... where is he?”

“He and Charlie are out.”

Lev asked Heidi to turn away, then he stood and pulled his
pants on. “OK, I’m decent,” he said. “What do you mean by
out
?”

Crossing her arms, Heidi replied, “They’re hunting.”

“Rotters?”

“Dinner.”

Another yawn. “Oh great,” said Lev. “Hope they bag something
other than squirrel this time. And the others?”

“Chief and Seth are on patrol down by the Gudsons' so it’s
on you to greet our visitors.”

Now, seemingly more awake, Lev showed a newfound sense of
urgency. He slipped his boots on and without lacing them grabbed his carbine.
As he scooted by her and through the entry, he called back over his shoulder,
“The guy’s name is Cade, right?”

“Correct,” she called back. “And there are five others ...
plus a dog.”

“Well then I hope Daymon bags two of whatever he was gunning
for,” replied Lev, his voice trailing off as he wound through the
interconnected containers.

 There was a metallic clang in the distance and again Heidi
was alone with the lone light bulb and a ham radio seemingly capable of picking
up nothing but static.

Chapter 58

When Lev finally made it topside, the first thing he saw was
the two trucks. One was black and giant-sized, the other white and mean-looking
but smaller by comparison. They were parked side-by-side in the center of the
clearing far from Duncan’s helicopter and the other assorted vehicles which
made up the group’s rag-tag motor pool. As a precautionary measure, he chambered
a round and flicked the carbine’s selector from
safe
to
fire
.
Putting on a smile, he approached the humongous black truck. Seeing him, the
brunette woman in the driver’s seat smiled back, thrust a thumb towards the box
bed, and told him that her husband was already unloading.

Getting down to brass tacks
. As Lev rounded the rear
of the truck, the top of the bed barely level with his eyes, he nearly collided
with a man wearing a black ball cap and desert tan fatigue bottoms, who was,
judging by the graying goatee and sidewalls, a little older than him by maybe
half a dozen years. After composing himself, Lev stuck out his hand and said,
“Cade Grayson?”

Cade lowered the Pelican case from the bed to the ground,
wiped his hand off on his pants, and accepted the offering. “You must be Lev,”
he said. “I was expecting either Duncan or Daymon.”

“We were expecting
you
tomorrow. So for now you’re
stuck with me.”

Leaning against the open tailgate, eyeing the carbine in
Lev’s hand, Cade asked when they were expected back.

“Duncan’s sleeping and Daymon is ... speak of the devil,”
said Lev, nodding towards the tree line to the west. “Looks like Daymon has
decided to grace us with his presence.”

Turning and following Lev’s line of sight, Cade picked up
the lanky dreadlocked man as he emerged from the tree line. Cade waved and
started across the clearing and, as the distance was halved, he recognized the
man trailing Daymon from a briefing prior to the Jackson Hole mission. Only now
the balding, gray-haired man wasn’t wearing a badge or the blue utilities
indicative of a chief of police from Jackson Hole. In fact, there was nothing
Cade could see—not even a hint of swagger—that distinguished him as a lawman
except maybe the semi-automatic pistol holstered on his hip.

Upon seeing Cade, Daymon picked up his pace and met the
gimpy operator halfway. After handshakes and pats on the back, Cade handed over
the note he’d come across in Hanna. After stuffing it in a pocket, the two
shared a few words and then Daymon walked them over and introduced Charlie as
the former Jackson Hole Chief of Police. “Pleasure,” said Cade. He turned back
to Daymon and pointed toward the far side of the clearing near where the Black
Hawk sat, its massive rotor blades drooping and casting off strange kaleidoscopic
shadows on the grass.

“Can I have a word with you ... in private?”

The smile left Daymon’s face. He nodded and turned,
following the footsteps he had just left in the grass.

“Wait up,” said Cade, swallowing a couple of pills. “I’m
nursing a tiny bit of a sprain.”

“Tiny bit?” Brook said incredulously.

After giving Brook an aww shucks look accompanied by a
shooing motion, Cade popped open the case near his feet and took out a slab of
black plastic the size of a road atlas only thicker by a couple of inches.
Protected all the way around by a kind of rubberized armor, it looked like a
panel ripped off of a Transformer robot.

By then everyone had dismounted both trucks and was walking
about and stretching. Max bolted across the clearing and promptly lifted his
leg and marked the Black Hawk as his.

Lev clicked his rifle to safe and set it aside.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, Cade and Daymon walked across the
clearing. Along the way, Cade brought up the fact that earlier that day he’d
seen a very undead Hoss, the lawyer in the house in Hanna, and ended by saying,
“I finished the job you were supposed to do.” He paused for a beat to let the
words sink in. Daymon opened his mouth to apologize but instead Cade raised a
hand and cut him off. “Case closed. Hoss was a waste of skin. On to more
important business. You kept your word in Jackson and helped me get at Robert
Christian. And I in turn held up my end of the bargain and turned him over to
the powers that be who honored their word, thus enabling me to get my own
pound
of flesh
.” He paused for another long beat.

Daymon said, “You’re welcome ... I guess. Care to
elaborate?”

“Negative. It’s classified. However ... ” He hinged open the
item he’d been carrying under his arm. Powered it on and waited while the
laptop screen flared a brilliant blue that contrasted sharply against dusk’s
failing light. “It’s all right here ... on the desktop. It’s labeled RCEX. Not
for the faint of heart but it should bring Heidi some closure.”

“This shows Robert Christian’s execution?”

“All sixteen gruesome seconds of it. From drop to flop to
plop. Glad I wasn’t there. Heard his bowels loosened something fierce. Pretty
rank-smelling.”

“Can I take it?”

Cade hitched a brow. “Sure,” he said. “I need it back as
soon as you’re finished with it.” He snapped the rugged laptop closed and
handed it over.

“Thanks again,” said Daymon, a troubled look settling on his
features. “About Hoss—”

Cade said nothing. Locked eyes with Daymon and shook his
head slowly side to side.

Tucking a stray dread behind his ear, Daymon said,
“Daylight’s fading fast. Let’s get you unloaded and we’ll fire up some canned
chili and vegetables.”

Cade’s stomach growled at the mere thought of eating
anything other than MREs or Schriever mess hall chow, which was barely a notch
above a TV dinner in his opinion.

With twilight falling quickly and everyone helping, the
trucks got unloaded and the gear stacked outside the compound entrance.

Chapter 59

Stubby carbine in hand, Brook entered the compound a step
behind Raven. After pausing a tick to let their eyes adjust, they caught up
with Charlie who had paused in the communications room in order to introduce
them to Heidi.

Heidi, who had seemed to find purpose in monitoring the
radios, seemed truly delighted to meet them. “Want to see our eyes and ears to
the outside?”

“Sure,” Brook lied. In reality she just wanted to find a
dark place and lie down and close her eyes and quiet the little voice that kept
reminding her that she had killed three people a handful of hours ago.

The introduction to the ham radio and Motorola two-way
radios was far from necessary. Focusing on an urn of coffee whose aroma had
been calling to her since she stepped foot into the room, Brook heard maybe one
word in three. Even Raven seemed to tire quickly of the narrative; however,
Brook’s interest was soon piqued when she learned the group would soon be
returning to a nearby quarry in order to relieve it of its solar panels and
high-tech closed-circuit camera system.

When Heidi had finished, she led them from the communications
room to the container the Grayson family would be calling home. The
low-ceilinged affair happened to be in the farthest corner, near the rear of
the compound, diagonal from where the kids would be staying.

Heidi opened the door for Brook and said, “The guy who was
staying here took his ball and his family and went home.”

Brook set her canvas duffel on one of the low-slung bunks.
Somewhat confused, she looked a question at the blonde.

“Oh. Sorry,” proffered Heidi. “He was a bit of a pacifist. Didn’t
like Duncan’s proactive approach to handling our problems around here. And the
fact that Duncan used the heavy artillery against the Huntsville thugs was too
much for him to handle... so the day before yesterday he loaded his family into
his airplane and flew the coop.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere but here were his exact words.”

“What did Duncan do?”

Heidi paused. Unsure if the lady could handle what she was
about to divulge. But hell, the dead were walking the earth topside. If this
gun-toting super-fit thirty-something couldn’t handle the truth then what good
was she?

Based on second-hand knowledge, Heidi described the ambush
in a Michael Mann fashion. Leaving nothing out, first she exaggerated the
propane tanks exploding and catching the vehicle on fire. Her graphic
description of Chance’s head and helmet bouncing down the road and spinning
away in two separate pieces, even in Raven’s presence, was hardly tempered.
Then, to wrap it up, she mentioned the fifty-caliber decapitation job Duncan
had wrought on the driver of the Toyota. And when she’d finished telling the
tale, she removed her hat, looked up to the ceiling, and waved a little
elbow-wrist waggle to an imaginary airplane and said, “Good effin riddance Bob
... and thanks for the empty bunks.”