Warpath: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (50 page)

Foley shook his sunburned bald head. A tear showed at the
corner of his eye. “Couldn’t go back there ... after—”

“Something bad happened there?”

Foley nodded. He was sitting up on the bed now, fully
clothed in camo shorts and a thin cotton shirt of the same pattern favored by
hunters, his chest rising and falling, obviously fighting to keep the awful
memories of that day from tearing him apart.

“Something bad happened everywhere,” said Cade. “But I’m
going to need your help here.”

Foley straightened up, nodding.

Already having cross-checked the many details divulged by
Foley and deciding the man was who he said he was, Cade asked the most
important question.

Once again Foley nodded. “Yesterday,” he said. Cade nodded
to that and said, “Thank you. Now I’m sorry I have to do this but unfortunately
I have no choice.”

Foley closed his eyes and turned away, waiting for the
darkness.

Chapter 79

Being down four capable people at the compound, Chief made
the executive decision and nixed the campfire the younger folks, Raven
especially, were clamoring for.

So Brook used the time between dinner and lights out to go
over the basics of field stripping her stubby Colt carbine. With Raven and
Sasha sitting cross-legged at the ground near her feet, and the two love birds
Taryn and Wilson dang near spooning each other a few feet removed, she held the
rifle up for all to see and popped out the takedown pin. “Do not drop ...” The
old saying
do as I say, not as I do
, entered her mind the moment the
little black pin squirted from her grip and was lost from sight in the
matted-down patch of grass.

“I got it, Mom,” said Raven as she went to all fours and
started combing the ground where she thought she saw it fall.

Soon all five of them were searching for the piece with the
beams from a pair of headlamps added to the mix to augment the day’s failing
light.

Five heads nearly touching and as many pairs of hands
feeling around, Brook thought the odds of finding the crucial component seemed
a sure bet.

But that wasn’t the case. It seemed as if Mister Murphy was
in attendance tonight.
Better he’s mucking things up here than somewhere
else
, she conceded to herself. Then she tried to imagine what her man was
doing at this very moment and came up blank. She removed her hat and plopped it
on the ground to mark the spot and said, “Everybody inside. We’re done here for
the night.” Leaving the search for the pin for the morning, she policed up the
parts of her rifle and rose. Taking Raven’s hand, she called for Max and began
the lonely walk back to the compound entrance.

Chapter 80

Lev heard Cade’s voice in his earpiece:
Bring my kit and
meet me halfway
. So he picked up the pack and carbine and set out towards
the row of bushes Cade had entered a few minutes prior.

Before leaving the guest house, Cade extracted his sat-phone
and typed out a quick text message. Stowing the sleek device in a cargo pocket,
he peered through the back glass.
Clear.
With his ankle starting to throb
again, he took the steps at a leisurely pace, crossed the lawn, and met up with
Lev near the fragrant rhododendrons. He shrugged on his ruck and clicked his M4
to the center-point sling, then held a quick huddle with the others after which
he traded the suppressed Glock to Lev for the laptop and accepted the
blood-soaked helmet from Daymon for safekeeping. With a fist bump and a few
words of encouragement, he sent Lev and Daymon off on a separate mission of
their own.

Once the pair were out of earshot, Duncan asked, “You sure
that’s going to work?”

“It’s got to,” answered Cade.

“I figure we’re outgunned ten-to-one. No way to win a
shootout against those kind of numbers.”

“Try fifteen-to-one,” proffered Cade.

“With no air or arty to call in ... just starting out we’ll
be fighting an uphill battle.”

To which Cade replied, “Have faith in me, friend.”

“You have an ace?”

Remaining stoic, Cade said, “Desantos always practiced what
he preached. And he liked to say: ‘Keep your cards close to your vest and a derringer
up your sleeve.’”

Duncan said ruefully, “It’s a shame I didn’t have a chance
to get to know that fella.”

Talking as he walked back towards the guest house, Cade
agreed, “He’s missed. That’s for sure. But we’ve got to go on if we’re going to
somehow reverse this extinction-level event we’ve found ourselves in.” He
started up the stairs, carbine banging his thigh, and gripping the rail
white-knuckle-tight, letting his upper body strength counter the extra stress
on the ankle. Grimacing, he craned over his shoulder and went on, “Cowboy had a
favorite MacArthur quote ... want to hear it?”

Pausing on a stair, Duncan said, “I’m all ears.”

“Usually after beating some young swinging dick in a
shooting competition or out on the O-course (obstacle course), Cowboy would
say: ‘Age wrinkles the body; quitting wrinkles the soul.’”

“So true,” said Duncan. He followed Cade through the door
and once inside marveled at the triangle of custom glass opening out onto the
elevated deck. Tugging on his collar, he said, “If we’re staying here until
full dark then we really ought to open some of those windows.”

“That’s my plan,” Cade said behind a grin. “Go on upstairs
and check out the arrangement.”

Duncan said, “I’ve had it with stairs.”

Chuckling, Cade said, “Quitting wrinkles the soul.”

Shaking his head, Duncan said, “Fuck off.” Then relented and
began to climb the oak stairs, muttering the entire way.

Cade put his carbine aside and placed his backup compact
Glock 19 at arm’s reach on the island before him. He was in the midst of
assembling the MSR when Duncan called down to him from above asking, “What’s
this hot mess up here?”

“Jimmy Foley. Says so on his Idaho driver’s license.”

“What’d he do?”

“Ask him.”

Looking at the sweating mess with equal measures of empathy
and anger, Duncan removed the washcloth from the man’s mouth. Bald head beaded
with sweat, arms and legs zip-tied at four points, Foley’s chest heaved as he
drew in an unimpeded breath of fresh air.

Duncan interrogated Foley in much the same way as Cade had.
Finally, after all of his questions had been answered, he went silent and hung
his head.

Foley stammered, “Don’t kill me. I can help you. Anything
that I can do ... I will.”

“Have you killed a man?”

Eyes bugged and locked with Duncan’s, Foley shook his head
wildly side-to-side.

Duncan called down to Cade. “I think he’s being truthful.”

In the process of hauling his gear up the stairs, Cade
replied, “That’s what my gut was telling me.”

“Cut him loose?”

Having just cleared the final step, Cade dumped his gear on
the bed and opened the laptop, placing it on a side table. He cocked his head
and looked at Duncan. “Ya think?”

Gradually Foley was coming to the realization that he might
live to see another day. His head, ever so slowly, began bobbing up and down,
his chin hitting his chest with force.

Duncan pulled a lock-blade knife from a cargo pocket and
sliced through Foley’s bonds, feet first. While removing the flex cuffs on his
wrists, Duncan leaned close and whispered, “Don’t make me have to kill you.
Because I will.”

Rubbing his wrists and sensing he was ahead of the game, and
not wanting to foul it up, Foley simply nodded and watched the man in black
move about the room.

While Duncan was looking at the satellite image on the open
laptop, Cade was pulling the drawers from a shaker-style dresser. All six ended
up in the far corner, their contents, once nicely folded clothes and bedding,
spilling out on the floor.

Looking at Foley, Cade said, “Give me a hand with this.”

Without a second’s hesitation, with Duncan watching him like
a hawk, Foley rose from the plush chair and grabbed the dresser’s end nearest
him.

Cade said, “We’re going to place it perpendicular to the ...
” then suddenly stopped speaking. He placed his end down and pressed one hand
over his earpiece. He nodded, obviously listening to someone, somewhere. This
went on for a moment before he responded, “It’s your call. Kill or capture.”

Still holding up his end of the dresser while looking
quizzically at the man calling himself Cade, Foley tried to figure out what
these two men, who appeared miles apart in training and composure, were really
up to. He had already come to the conclusion, due to the nature of the earlier
questioning, that Bishop and his men were the hunted.

But given the disparity in numbers, he was beginning to
question his earlier assumption that had him living to see another day.

Picking up his end of the rather sturdy dresser, Cade
resumed where he’d left off. “As I was saying, I want to place this
perpendicular to the railing here.” They dragged it across the room and
positioned it slightly angled to the right. “Do you know how to open those
windows?”

Foley nodded. He said, “You want all of them open?”

“Negative,” said Cade. “Only the long one in the center.”

Foley shuffled across the room and went down the stairs,
then retrieved the pole from where he’d left it the day before. The system was
simple but required time and patience. He slipped the curved end of the
ten-foot pole into the eye hook affixed to the box just below the rectangular window
that housed a screw-drive mechanism. One end of the pole had an
egg-beater-style hand crank of the sort found on old-fashioned hand-powered
drills. He started in conservatively. Then found a rhythm and cranked the
window fully open. Instantly a cooling breeze rolled in over their heads, hit
the back wall and supplanted the hotter air, chasing it down and out of its
realm.

Cade said, “Perfect.” He flipped down both stubby legs of
the bipod and placed the Modular Sniper Rifle atop the dresser, its lengthy
suppressor pointing in the general direction of the center house five-hundred
yards distant.

Duncan said, “You sure you don’t want to move closer? Set up
in one of the other houses?”

“No need,” replied Cade, “The angle and range from here is
optimal. Now all I need is a target.” He pulled the floral chair to the end of
the dresser, piled some of the spilled bedding on top of the seat cushion, and
took a load off.

After acquiring the target house he tweaked the optic,
drawing the slightly shimmering image into sharp focus. Through the clear glass
railing surrounding the covered porch he saw a table and chairs. With no reason
to their placement, a dozen beer bottles sat atop the table. To the right,
dominating most of the front level, were sliding doors, all glass, designed to
open wide, presumably to let nature in. He pressed his cheek to the rest and
leaned in and trained the optics on the bank of upstairs windows where he saw
some movement. After a few seconds of watching a dark-haired woman moving about
the room, Cade was convinced the woman he was looking at was Jamie. “Duncan,”
he called out. “I think I see our girl.”

Chapter 81

There was a loud knock at the door. Nothing cheery about it.
All business. Reluctantly Jamie put down her book and padded across the room.
“Who is it?” she asked.

“Ian,” came the muffled reply. “Won’t you join me
downstairs?”

“Give me a minute.” Suddenly Jamie’s fight or flight
instincts revved up. She took a couple of calming breaths, slipped out of the
shorts and dressed in the jeans that had been provided her earlier in the day.
She pulled her hair into a high ponytail and looked at herself in the mirror.
“That’ll do.”

There was a trio of knocks at the door, closely spaced.
Urgent. With a little edginess to his voice, Bishop said, “Everything OK?”

Jamie swallowed hard and opened the door. What she did next
was planned. She wanted to deliver a knee to his groin but was presently unsure
of herself. Bottom line, her level of desperation hadn’t risen there yet. So
instead, sticking to her original plan—to further the idea, in dribs and drabs,
to her tall, dark, and handsome suitor that capture-bonding was indeed taking
place—she stood on her tiptoes, gripped his bicep, and delivered a peck to his
cheek.
Hell
, she thought.
If female spies can use their feminine
guiles to get what they want, so too can I
. And right now what she wanted
more than anything was to carve the fucker into little tiny pieces. She’d
killed to protect herself on two separate occasions already since the world
went to shit, and this one, if she got the chance, was going to be very
different from the others. It was going to be very gratifying.

Smiling, Bishop said, “Cheeses and crackers and a surprise
after sunset. Does that sound good to you?”

Mind racing, Jamie held her composure and said, “I love
surprises. I think I can get used to this treatment.” Then, thinking she’d laid
it on too thick, she felt a cold pit forming in her stomach.

Bullshit
, thought Bishop. His smile turning wolfish,
he said, “Let’s get some fresh air.” Stepping aside he swept his arm in a kind
of grand gesture and ushered her ahead and followed her down the hall.

Chapter 82

Cade moved aside so that Duncan could get his eyes on the
target house. The suppressor on the end of the MSR tracked left to right in
tiny increments as the old aviator glassed the house. “I can’t see a thing,” he
finally said.

“Because of your vision ... or there’s nobody
to
see?”