Z14 (Zombie Rules) (2 page)

             
I walked up to him, all the while looking around with my peripheral vision. There was a teenage boy standing beside the truck. He was short, maybe five-three, and slender. His arms were also very slender, but I could see some musculature. He had dyed black hair which was cut short, dark brown eyes, accented with some black rubbed under them, and his face would have been feminine looking if he wasn’t trying so hard to look like the meanest man on earth. He also had an assault rifle hanging from his shoulder in a sling.

             
He and the Captain were dressed almost exactly alike; camouflage pants, black lace up boots, wife-beater tee shirts, and tactical vests. Both had side arms, and little dude’s weapon looked like an M4 assault rifle. Very lethal. I only had a Kimber forty-five secured in a holster on my side.

             
I walked up to the big man and held out my hand. “You must be the Captain. I’ve heard of you. I’m Zachariah Gunderson. Call me Zach.” He was as big as Howard had described him. Hell, his tattooed arms were almost as big around as my legs. He stood easily and extended his hand. His grip was like a vise and I had to keep myself from wincing. He held it a moment longer than was necessary, smiled, and motioned toward the empty chair.

             
“Please join me Mr. Gunderson.” He said warmly. “What was the gunfire I heard a few minutes ago?” He asked.

             
I nodded. “A couple of zombies back there. Nothing to worry about though, I got them in the head, and I’ll burn them later.” I repositioned the chair where I no longer had my back to the armed boy and sat down. The Captain sat a moment later as if he had not noticed. The boy remained beside the truck, glaring at me.

             
“So, Zach. Zach the Zombie Killer. We meet at last.” He made a casual sweeping motion with one of those big arms. “When journeying around this area, I have been seeing signs, a pattern of behavior of which I’ve not seen anywhere else. Your rules, the FEMA signs painted on houses, the gas caps on vacant automobiles. Oh, and let’s not forget the dead, head shots and burned afterward.” He held up a finger and waggled it slightly. It looked like an oversized Vienna sausage. “When I observed these things, I knew there was somebody operating out here with an intelligent, orderly mind.” He stared at me a moment longer, and then reached for the book he was reading. He held it up with a challenging smile. “Have you ever read any poetry by Rudyard Kipling?”

             
“I’ve read a few of his works.” I said.

             
“Oh? Which is your favorite, might I ask? I can tell the cut of a man by his favorite poetry.”

             
In truth, I had read them all. As a young boy, I found Kipling fascinating. But I did not say as much. “The first one I ever read was The Thousandth Man. I like most of what he’s written, but the first one has always stuck with me.”

             
He smiled again. “The Thousandth Man you say? Ah yes, a very good poem, a poem of unwavering loyalty.” He slowly nodded his head as he stared at me. “Yes, I can see it in you.” He motioned at the book. “I just finished reading Young British Soldier when you appeared. I have my own variation of a part of it.” He looked out into an imaginary audience and began his soliloquy.

             
“When you’re wounded and left on the Tennessee plains, and the zombies come out to eat up your remains, just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, and go to your God like a soldier!” He finished with a triumphant pointing at the sky and looked at me questioningly.

             
“I must admit, I like it. Kipling is probably rolling over in his grave though.”

             
The Captain smiled, pleased at the compliment. “How did you survive the Apocalypse?”

             
“I had a friend and mentor who foresaw this event and planned accordingly. I suppose you could say he would be a thousandth man.”

             
The Captain arched an eyebrow. “Oh? I would like to meet a man of this caliber.”

             
“I’m sorry to say, he is now only with me in spirit.” I said without any outward emotion.

             
“Ah, sad, very sad. I hope he went to his God like a soldier.” I did not respond. Rick died in his sleep, whether or not he died like a soldier could be debated. It was not something I cared to discuss.

“And yet, you have survived.” The Captain said.

I gave a slight shrug. “I can only guess I am somewhat immune to the plague, as I would guess you and others are as well. Would I get infected if I were bitten?” I shrugged. “Probably. How did you survive?” I asked.

             
“A group of us have a compound near Eagleville. When we saw the signs, we gathered together, put up barricades, and waited it out. You look like you have some Viking heritage. Gunderson, that’s a Nordic surname, is it not?” He asked.

             
I nodded. “My father’s family is from Sweden. My mom was of British ancestry.”

             
“Ah.” He looked at me a moment before continuing. “What is your opinion of this so-called plague?”

             
I thought it over before responding. “It started with people displaying typical flu like symptoms, fever, jaundice, and ague. A degradation of physical acuity followed, and then they would become extremely violent. The virus, along with the fever, affected the brain somehow. I’d guess the hypothalamus was greatly affected. The infected seemed to have diminished cognitive functions, but their extreme aggression and acute gross motor skills seem to indicate a high level of adrenalin being dumped into the body.” I took a breath.

“From the onset of the infection, the body tissue is breaking down and decomposing. It is my opinion that they will eventually die out.”

              The Captain gazed at me intently during my diatribe. “Die out, you say? Interesting.” He pointed at me suddenly. “You should join my group Zach. You’d fit right in.”

             
I grunted. “I’m getting the impression you and your group do not welcome anyone other than Caucasians.”

             
The Captain shook his head slowly. “No Zach, we don’t. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no personal hatred of niggers, kikes, slopes, spics, ragheads, fags, or any other minority, but they don’t belong with our group, nor do they have any place in my plans of rebuilding this world.”

             
I shook my head slowly. “We’re going to have to disagree then Captain. In my world, using a disparaging term to label a group of people is just plain wrong.” I pointed at his book. “I believe Kipling agrees with the sentiment.”

             
The Captain scoffed and waved the book around before tossing it in the weeds. “Now Zach, it is nothing but poetry after all. I would assert to you, your rules are far more worthy in today’s world than most poetry.” He paused in reflection for a moment and looked back at the tanker. Someone had apparently tried to tow it off. All of the wheels had fallen off and it was now sitting on the ground.

             
“I believe I have something valuable to add to your list of rules.” He said. “What number are you up to now?”

             
“Ten.” I said. I had many more in my head and written in my notes, but I had not posted them as of yet.

             
He held up a finger. “A zombie rule: Zombies have no need for logistics. On the face of it, it is a very simplistic sentence. But, like your rules, there is a deep meaning within. Think about it Zach. Those things don’t require food or water like regular humans. They don’t need warmth on a cold night. They don’t need sanitary conditions. They don’t need medication or sleep. Hell they probably don’t need air to breathe.” He pointed at the tanker. “They most certainly don’t need fuel.”

             
I looked at the tanker, wondering how I was going to get it back from him if he didn’t want to give it back “It’s a good rule.” I said.

             
We sat in silence for a long minute. I was wary of the Captain. He was being downright cordial, but I suspected it was a facade. Plus, I was fully aware the chair he had waiting for me was strategically placed so his boy would be behind me. All I wanted at this point was to get the tanker and be gone.

             
“Zach, what are your plans?” I looked at him questioningly. “Your plans Zach, what are your plans for the future?”

             
“Well Captain, I’m all for rebuilding a productive society. I would like to hope we can avoid the mistakes of past generations. There is no need for pettiness, racial strife, or domination of one group over another. The people who have survived this apocalypse have far more important things to worry about.”

             
The Captain clapped his hands once in mock glee. “Spoken like a true idealist.” He stood and stretched. “It’ll never happen, Zach. People are people, after all. They covet. They harbor grudges and ill will, sometimes for several years. Their petty egos and jealousies will never allow them to be satisfied with the social utopia you envision. I’m thinking you are an avid reader Zach, have you forgotten all of the history books you’ve read?” The Captain laughed without mirth. “Ah Mr. Gunderson, your naiveté is somewhat refreshing, but oh so misguided.”

             
I thought about what the Captain was saying. I thought of Leon. I thought of Jason and his boys. Men who had behaved exactly what the Captain had said. They coveted what I had, and had even tried to kill me for it. “You have a valid argument, but I’m not looking for conquest. I only want a peaceful life.”

             
“What do you think Andie?” He asked the boy.

             
“I think he’s an idiot.” The boy standing beside the truck opined. The Captain looked at me as if I had been challenged. I shrugged my shoulders dismissively. However, there was something in the boy’s voice. I looked at him and was met with a defiant glare.

             
He gestured toward the tanker. “That was very clever Zach. We had no idea the lug nuts were missing until we tried to drive off with it. Is there any reason why I should give it back to you?” The Captain asked. He was smiling pleasantly, but there was a cold look in his eyes.

             
“Before I answer you Captain, please allow me to ask a couple of questions.” He waved a hand. “How’s your fuel supply?”

             
The Captain shrugged noncommittally. “It could be better.”

             
“Do you have any tankers like this one?” I asked.

             
“We have one.” He paused a moment. “We also have a storage tank back at the compound. Why do you ask?”

             
“Bring that tanker to me and I’ll get it filled up with gasoline.”

             
The Captain’s eyes now piqued with curiosity. “Did you hear him, Andie? Zach here seems to know where a supply of fuel is.”

             
“Bullshit.” Andie said.

             
“So call my bluff then. What do you have to lose?” I challenged.

             
The Captain laughed. “Oh, I like you Zach. I’ve not been amused in quite a while now. But you must tell me, where is this cache of gasoline? Do you have it at your own compound?”

             
I shook my head. “Nope, it’s in a fuel reservoir in downtown Nashville, on the east bank of the river, near the old Titan’s football stadium to be specific.” The Captain stared at me in amazement a moment, and then laughed uproariously.

“Zach, it’s impossible. There are thousands of zombies in the downtown area. I’ve
seen it myself. I sent in a team a few months ago and they were surrounded within minutes. They didn’t make it Zach. They were annihilated.”

             
I held my hands out, careful not to raise them. “I have a plan. It might even go better if you want to help out.”

             
He looked at me, unbelieving at first, and then with concern. “Do you have a cadre of soldiers Zach?” He asked quietly.

             
I did not answer directly. “I’m going to try it out with a small group. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll gain access to the fuel. There are a lot of variables, and to be honest it might not work. But I think we should try. I could use a few people with rifles.”

             
“What do you think Andie?” He asked.

             
“I think he’s full of shit. He’ll probably get eaten or blow himself up.” Andie replied.

             
“Did you hear that? My niece thinks you’re full of shit.” I glanced over at her quickly. Ah, so that explained it. He was in fact, a she. I could see the feminine features now. She was very much a tomboy, but yes, definitely a she.

             
The Captain sat back down and pulled his chair closer. He leaned forward and placed his big meaty hands on his knees. “Alright Mister Gunderson, you’ve got my attention. Tell me your plan.”