Alive and Fighting: Lost and Found (2 page)

             
After a moment of silence, a roar was heard from behind the base. Seconds later, a cement mixer sized truck came screaming around the edge of the compound. Clearly used only for construction, the "cab" was nothing but a frame more akin to an open jeep than a truck, the tires were almost as tall as a grown man and even thicker, and the post driver pointing off the back extended over practically the entire truck, ending just behind the driver's seat. Attached to the post driver was a seat and console that appeared to be a recent addition, to serve as a mobile "gunner" seat. The truck stopped just short of the group and the Klan mechanic, Jeff, leapt out of the driver's seat. Jeff's uniform was slightly different from the other Klansmen, in that his strips were made from sheet metal and his mask was not a tattered cloth, but rather a strange cross between a welder's face shield and a hockey mask. The mask was made from metal and sported the Plexiglas eye shield of a welder, but was oval shaped and featured three vertical slits over is mouth.

             
"Lynn, you mother fucker, you best take care of this rig, hear me? You so much as tear the upholstery and I'll carve your heart out with a soldering iron and eat it in front of your little sister!…nah, I'm just playing, I have nothing but faith in you. Just don't total'er and I'll be happy." Jeff shouted, approaching the group.

             
"Jeff, you gotta ease off those Vulture drugs man. What dosage level are you up to on 'Jump'? Let me guess, six vials a day?" Lynn jokingly asked, shaking Jeff's hand and accepting the keys to the truck.

             
"Never had it, never will, but the last vehicle you asshats brought in for me got destroyed going after that Daniels kid. Also, have you seen this post driver in action, man? It punched a steel rod straight through concrete!" Jeff marveled, looking over the monster of a truck Lynn was about to drive off with.

             
"No shit…that's impressive, but how do you retrieve the rods if they're ejected with so much force?" Lynn asked as the others looked the truck over.

             
"No need my friend, no need. It took a lot of doing, but we got this super tough coil out of the old Exxon Refinery, had to get past Vulture security guarding the refinery to get it and that was no cake walk, man. Have you seen the kind of security those Vultures use? Don't, it's too crazy…anyway, we got the coil back, I got it wrapped around the rod, and that pulls it back into the driver." Jeff explained, patting the driver as Lynn walked around to the driver's side.

             
"Anything else we oughta know about it?" Lynn asked, climbing up behind the wheel.

             
"Try not to use the post driver while still moving. Unless you have it angled high enough, you might punch the ground and rip the axles, maybe even flip over. Go get'em!" Jeff shouted as Gil climbed into the post driver's 'gunner' seat, Yancy into the passenger's side with his crossbow ready, and Vera into the back seat.

             
Lynn revved up the engine and made certain everyone could hear him before taking off towards the nearest street. While he would have loved to put the truck through its paces and really open it up, many of the roads were still dangerously clogged with shells of cars, picked clean long ago, and make shift barricades constructed from concrete dividers and old luggage, for last stands, long since stood. Lynn took it slow down the roads, up Park Blvd. to Highway seventy three, then Government St. As the post driver rumbled up the streets, heads poked from windows and doors to see what was coming up the road. While certainly not an extinct species, working vehicles were a sight to behold, and rarely were they around long enough for people to get used to the noise. At first the engine of the post driver excited the people of Blood Oak, but upon seeing its hooded crew, many retreated back into their shelters. So well beaten into their minds were the actions of the Grey Klan that most were unwilling to fully name them, calling them simply the Greys, or the Klan. Those fear filled, rag adorned, day by day, Graveyarders walking the streets simply looked away, staring into the distance or at the ground. Lynn shook his head as they turned past the Archives onto St. Louis, their destination a block and a half ahead.

             
"
It's been twenty years and still they're scared just by the sight of us. They know we only take the infected or people protecting them. It's a shame, would really like it if they didn't look at us like monsters…They'll come around soon though, they have to…
" Lynn thought as he parked the post driver in front of old City Hall.

             
The motor's roar had drawn a lot of attention from the people of Blood Oak, the Graveyarders, but it had also drawn the attention of the town's other less desirable population. Coming up St. Louis from behind them, a large crowd of the undead were making good time towards their position. At least fifty among them, the horde was moving at a steady, stable jog, more than likely having come out of the nearby River Center, the home to most of Blood Oak's zombies. While alone they had little cognitive ability, in a group this large, they were capable. They wouldn't be taking cover or using tools, but they were fast and coordinated. The Greys were prepared for this, Gil checked the post driver and found it working as intended, and Yancy climbed into the back seat, steadying his crossbow on the frame of the cab.

             
"Alright people, looks like a few dozen. Yancy, take as many from the front ranks as you can. Try and trip the middle of the group. Good, good, keep it up. Gil, when they get close let'em have it, try and get at least two at a time. Vera, you and I will circle around, hit'em from the back, can't let them surround us. Come on!" Lynn instructed, leaping from the driver's side of the truck with Vera close behind him.

             
Lynn heard Vera unsheathe the machete as he flicked out his own blades. A bolt from Yancy's crossbow whizzed past him and dropped a zombie twenty yards ahead of them. Unfortunately, one fallen zombie didn't drain the cognitive faculties of the horde enough to keep them from side stepping or leaping the fallen corpse. The horde of zombies were so focused on the truck, and the bolts that issued from it, that they didn't notice Lynn and Vera slip behind their ranks.

             
"Aim for the head, take it off or take it apart." Lynn whispered to Vera as they approached the zombies unguarded rear.

             
"Please, the Grey Klan scouted me for a reason." Vera quietly replied. She then dashed to the nearest zombie and lopped the top half of its cranium clean off, causing the corpse to drop to its knees before falling face first into the street.

             
Lynn flashed Vera a smile and ran forward to join her, plunging his wrist blades upwards through the base of two hapless zombie skulls at once. He made short work of it, carving a steady swath through the back of the horde, often bringing two zombies down at once with his razor edged blades. As he and Vera neared the middle of the pack the sound of the post driver firing made them both stop momentarily. The sound was first that of a piston, followed quickly by a wet and sickly crunch, finished off with a loud shattering. Despite the gruesome nature of the driver, Lynn and Vera couldn't help but rejoice at how effectively it was thinning the herd. Drawing the zombies to it instead of repelling them, the driver was tearing three, four, even five at a time into pieces. Ripping his blade out the back of one last undead skull, Lynn pushed the corpse aside and looked out over the street.

             
"Great work everyone, really great…We'll need to get a clean team out here soon to deal with this, can't have them rotting out in the streets…Alright, who wants to watch the truck while the rest of us go in?" Lynn asked after he and Vera had gotten back to the driver.

             
"I'll do it Sir, need to recollect my bolts anyway." Yancy offered, hopping off the driver.

             
"Okay, we probably won't need ranged support inside the office. Shouldn't be too long, just keep the Zed down and the Gravers away from the driver, no joy ridin'!" Lynn instructed as he, Gil, and Vera approached the old City Hall.

             
The lobby looked to be more or less the same as it had been before the Infection, only the quality of people's dress and their daily business seemed to have changed. In one corner, a young man sat behind a desk, clearly swallowing his fear of the slaughter he had just heard outside. The other Gravers were huddled behind tables and couches. While the sounds of combat and struggle were commonplace to the ears of Blood Oak's Graveyarders, the post driver, and its grisly roar were an all together new and terrifying sound. Though clearly relieved the threat outside had been dealt with, few Gravers seemed happy to see a party of Greys walk up to the front desk.

             
"Yes, where could I find the residence belonging to Keith?" Lynn asked the front desk clerk politely.

             
"Sir, we…uh, well, don't just give that information out…you need to show some…ah screw it…he lives on the third floor, second door on the right…but I swear I haven't seen him in days. Please just don't hurt anyone else here, just take him and go." The clerk revealed, not interested in arguing with Lynn.

             
"Thank you very much Mr.…" Lynn trailed off, waiting for the clerk to fill in the blank.

             
"…Greg…" Greg, the front desk clerk, responded weakly.

             
"Thank you very much, Mr. Greg. If I see your manager or landlord I'll be sure to tell him how much you helped me." Lynn said with a smile that was lost on Greg, as Lynn still wore his mask.

             
Greg feebly nodded as Lynn headed for the stairs, with Gil and Vera close behind him. They trudged up the stairs, passing the second floor without a glance and making their way swiftly up to the third floor. The layout was clearly once that of an office, but had recently been converted into housing. The "bull pen" had become a large shanty town of cubicles turned into single person sleepers with sheets serving as walls and roofs. The offices had been turned into living for families, couples, or groups of friends. The second door on the right, where Greg claimed Keith lived, once belonged to a Sam Pollack according to the faded metal name plate. Trying the door and finding it locked, Lynn knocked twice.

             
"…Who is it?" a male voice called from behind the locked office door.

             
"Friends of Keith, we just need to grab something for him." Lynn replied through the wood.

             
"No way, I saw him get dragged off, I'm not opening for anyone unless you tell me who you are." The voice stated, followed by the sound of a dead bolt sliding into place. "So who are you?"

             
"Land shark." Lynn said, growing impatient. He wasn't sure what it meant, but his father told him it was funny, and he had no reason not to trust that.

             
"What?" the voice responded clearly confused.

             
"Nevermind." Lynn sighed, already tired of the back and forth. Stepping back briefly, Lynn delivered a solid kick directly to the dead bolt, knocking the recently installed safety feature clear out of the door as it swung open.

             
"What the fuck?" the man groaned from the floor, having been right behind the door before it was kicked in.

             
"Gil, keep an eye on that guy. Vera, help me find the coffee pot." Lynn instructed, stepping into the makeshift apartment.

             
"What are you doing here?" the man said, trying to stand up.

             
"We told you. We're getting something for Keith. His life's in danger and he needs whatever's in the coffee pot to stay safe." Lynn truthfully reiterated to the shaken man.

             
"Got it." Vera said, a small black chip with a flashing red light on it in her outstretched hand.

             
"I trust you, Vera, you hang onto it." Lynn said pleased at the brevity of the encounter as they filed out of the room, leaving Keith's unnamed room guard still nameless on the floor.

             
"Wait, so you're just gonna leave that guy in there? What if he tells someone someth-" Gil began, until being pinned against the office wall by Lynn's arm against his neck.

             
"We. Are not. Bogeymen. We protect these people. That guy did not wrong us, what quarrel do I have with him? Tell me, actually you know what, both of you, why'd you join the Grey Klan? Vera, ladies first." Lynn hissed through his mask before releasing Gil and leading them into the stairwell where he stopped.

             
"I couldn't get anywhere or get ahead before. I was lousy at salvaging, whether it was just scrap metal or tools, always felt like I was stealing from someone…so I became an escort for people, you know body guarding salvagers who wanted to go in sewers or condemned buildings. Of the few people willing to accept that I was good enough to protect them, most refused to pay. The Klan offered me a position where I'd be fed and sheltered, hell yeah I signed up." Vera explained, leaning against the wall of the stairwell.