Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (6 page)

That was quite the speech, and gave me enough material to think over for more than just tonight. It certainly wiped my need to respond with humor clean off my mind. It grated that I could actually relate to what he said, if not on the same scale as Nate himself, I was sure. And I really didn’t know what to say now.

“I know, shit just got real deep,” he said, laughing softly. “Just look at me, waxing poetic when I should be making sure that my people don’t get eaten in their sleep.”

That I knew what to respond to. “I’m not sure we really need to stand watch. Not even a zombie is mindless enough to try to take a bite out of Burns. I’d much rather eat beef, too.”

“I’d much rather take a bite out of you,” Nate said, leaning closer as if to try doing just that. I shoved him away, laughing. See, I couldn’t be quite that damaged yet if stupid jokes started working again.

“You wish. Just because I’m pissed at those idiots behind their palisade doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you for giving me a double shift. You wanna drive tomorrow? Because I could do with some shut-eye during the day.”

“Fat chance,” he retorted. “Besides, we’re much safer out here.”

“How come?”

Nate shrugged. “That idea with the trenches and fences is theoretically sound, but practically, they botched it. The fences are far too close together, and too close to the palisade, too. Takes only a couple hundred bodies to fill the trenches. Everything that comes after that can easily press on the fences. When the mass becomes critical, the fence will bend and take the next row with it, and so on. The innermost one is close enough to reach the palisade, giving them a boost to let them scale the wall. It will hold against a hundred zombies, but make that ten thousand, and they’re toast.”

The very idea of ten thousand undead storming a town was enough to make me want to hurl. Last year, more than once just a handful of them had been enough to almost kill us. I felt a little more cocky now with the cars and additional arsenal, but last year there hadn’t been those so-called streaks yet.

“Do you think that’s what’s going to happen to any settlement hit by them? They think they’re safe, but really, they aren’t?”

Nate’s silence made me uncomfortable. “I sure hope I’m wrong. But not even the best bunker could withstand such a force.”

That rang true. “What’s the alternative? Sure, we can stay on the move. Lead a nomadic life forever, if we have to. But not everyone has that choice,” I pointed out.

“I honestly don’t know,” he replied after mulling that over. “Not let yourself be locked in like that would be one option. Build settlements that have more exits than one. That can’t be so easily swarmed. Like against a mountain with cave exits leading away. Or a port town where people can flee out into the ocean. People used to be smarter than that. No one would have thought to build a permanent settlement smack in the middle of a plain when we weren’t the apex predators, or thought we were unconquerable on our own turf. As much as I’m usually for making a stand, that’s a warrior’s choice. The people you need to defend can’t do that. I wouldn’t want that kind of responsibility on my shoulders.”

I had to admit, he had a point there. None of us were out for him- or herself alone, but it was easy when my only objectives were not to get killed and to guard each other’s backs.

“So we look down on them for being locked inside their flimsy fences, and they look down on us for roaming free, always on the run?”

Nate nodded. “Looks like it. And since when do you care what people think about you? Admit it. You got a kick out of scaring that idiot at the gate shitless. Which reminds me. Why did you pass up the opportunity to rub my sexual prowess in his face? I never got to smirk at him when he realized that you had more balls than all of them combined.”

I didn’t grace that with an answer. Nate’s soft laughter followed me into the night as I turned around and went the other way. Some things would never change, it seemed—and that was probably not the worst that could happen.

I didn’t sleep well that night, but when Taylor leaned in to shake me awake for my morning shift I still didn’t want to leave the cozy confines of my sleeping bag. Nate was snoring softly, stretched out in his reclined seat. It was still dark outside, but in the east the sky started to lighten already. Late spring definitely had its perks compared to the endless, long winter nights.

I checked the radio before I left my cocoon. No new alert, but then it was still very early for anyone to be up and about. Clark was up for rotation, greeting me with a nod, but that was it. I didn’t mind. Even less so after my talk with Nate last night. Lots to think about—and I had a certain feeling that whatever we would get up to today, I’d be too tense, expecting zombies to come at me from every direction at once, to relax enough to let my mind wander. I’d never been one for meditating, but guard duty was a great stand-in for that—with the added bonus of actually doing something useful.

The sun rose over the plains, welcoming a new day that looked as if it was about to be as bright and hot as the one before. So far we’d managed to avoid the few storms and tornados that the new season had brought with it—another reason why I was happy to be in a car most of the time. Some things you could simply drive away from. Others, not so much.

People all over the camp started to rise, and I was on the way back to the Rover when Nate hailed me, drawing the attention of the others, too. As I approached, I could already hear Mike’s voice coming over the radio, sleepy after spending the night at the mic.

“Code red for northern Missouri and southern Iowa,” he repeated. “We have confirmed reports that Harristown, Missouri has been surrounded. We’re still waiting to hear from them but their coms seem to have been fried by the storm last week.”

Pia was the first to voice what I figured all of us were thinking. “How do they know if they don’t have radio contact?”

As if to answer her, Mike went on with his report. “Luke’s Chargers have been shadowing the streak for the past week. I’ll let Jason himself tell you what’s going on.” A pause followed, then a somewhat less clear male voice took over when Mike patched him into the main feed.

“Jason Luke here. This is the most fucked-up thing I’ve seen so far. At least this month.” He barked a brief laugh that was deep enough to make me think of him as a tall, buff guy who didn’t take shit from anyone. “We came over from Illinois and stayed east of them all through the Ozarks. Part branched off toward St. Louis but the main horde went north. We followed them, losing track for a day when we had to find a different river crossing. Then we found them again north of Columbia, turning west to northwest. All looked steady again and like they’d head toward Bethany and the interstate, but then part split off, going east again. We thought they’d pass by the dried up river valley going by the settlement, but they didn’t. Fuckers don’t have sentries, but it was as if they’d known there’s plenty of food up there. Sped up. We had to fall back when it got dark, but I sent my men out with first light. They’ve swarmed the entire river valley. Mass is thickest around the town. So far their barricades are holding well, but that’s a shitload of zombies out there. I give them maybe a week, probably closer to three days. And that’s only if the main streak doesn’t join these. It’s impossible to give a headcount, but we think at least fifteen hundred, maybe closer to two-K.”

Andrej whistled through his teeth, but except for that, everyone remained silent as they continued to listen.

Mike took over again. “Thanks, Jason. Make sure you guys don’t do anything stupid and get yourselves killed.”

Jason’s laugh was a loud one. “Sure thing on the second, but if you’ve met us, you know that we always get in trouble, wherever we go.”

Sounded like someone we would get along with. I tried to remember if I’d ever talked to someone on the open com channel Dispatch ran for all of us out there whose name was Jason. Likely not. We’d been quiet most of the time since leaving Aurora, except for bragging after our mall hit.

“And you’re not the only ones around that’s likely true for,” Mike said, agreeing. “To everyone in the general area: run, duck, hide, whatever works for you. Jason’s guys lost sight of the main streak so there’s no telling where they’ll end up next, but we have a report from another group that a smaller horde has ended up in Iowa, about an hour east of New Town. We have no way of telling if it was from the same streak and some of them were much faster than the main horde, or an independent group altogether. But if you’re in west Missouri or Iowa right now, think about retreating to the territories further west.”

Burns gave a brief bark at that. “Think he means us with that?”

Nate glanced at him for a moment but didn’t reply, instead listening to Mike repeating the facts once more. When the bulletin was over, Nate reached for the mic, but left the transponder off that would signal our current position.

“Dispatch, can you open us a line to Jason? Thirteen Alpha, copy.”

A brief pause, then Mike gave us the okay, if with a serious note of hesitation in his voice. “Hope you guys know what you’re doing. You’re live.”

“Thanks, Mike. Jason, you copy?”

“Loud and clear,” came Jason’s confirmation. “You guys in the area?”

“Yeah, we’re the ones who found the smaller group in Iowa,” Nate confirmed. “What was your last intel on the main group? Question is, if we try to reach you, do we go north or south of them.”

Jason gave that some thought. “They weren’t moving more than twenty miles during the day but sometimes managed up to fifty overnight. You’re in Iowa right now?”

“Missouri, about twenty miles south of the border.”

“Go south then,” he advised. “If they’re not north of you yet, they might be passing by you right now. You may have to deal with some stragglers if you cut east too soon, but that’s still better than heading straight into the main horde. How many vehicles do you have? And how are your ammo stores? Because if you’re running low, don’t bother.”

Nate hesitated for a moment, prompting my paranoia to rear its ugly head, but he replied before I could ask him what that was about.

“Five cars. Probably enough ammo to pick apart a substantial part of your estimate of what’s crowding Harristown, but I’d rather not spend it all on a single mission.”

The radio picked up Jason’s whistle. “You folk former military or something? We’re not exactly badly equipped, but we don’t round up that kind of firepower.”

Neither did we, I felt like saying, but it had been a while since I’d done a good inventory of how many boxes of ammo we were lugging around with us—and that was counting on every shot being a kill shot, which not even Nate and Pia could guarantee.
 

“Something like that,” Nate replied, not without mirth.

“What was your group’s call sign again?” Jason asked.

“Lucky Thirteen.”

A pause, then, “You’re the guys who took care of that scum in Illinois, right?”

Ah, so much for our fame not spreading. As always, when something reminded me of how events had gone down with the cannibals, I felt my bile rise. If Nate still felt any resentment, it didn’t show in his tone. “You bet.”

“Can’t say I’m not glad to have someone like that for backup. Think you can make it over here by tomorrow morning? Depending on how far south you have to go, might be about two hundred miles. Missouri’s not as quiet as it used to be last summer. We’ve had a lot of traffic, and half of the bridges are collapsed from the beginning of tornado season. You think you guys are up for this?”

“Haven’t met anything yet that would deter us,” Nate replied, the hint of bravado in his voice making me frown. What was that about?

Jason gave us their team frequency so we could contact them when we were close enough for direct communication, and a few more instructions about what roads were likely clear, and what stretches to avoid. I tried to remember that, but counted on Nate to let me know where to go once we got there. I might joke about him being dead weight, but he was my navigator for a reason.

As soon as he’d broken the connection, Nate got out of the car, facing the others. Everyone had been listening in so there was no need for an update, and he didn’t call for a vote, either. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but then the grim determination I saw on people’s faces made it obvious that they felt ready for this. Just my luck that I had to throw in my lot with a bunch of trigger-happy lunatics.

“This mission has a high potential for disaster. We’ll decide whether we do this when we have all the information and visual confirmation of how bad it really is,” Nate said after making eye contact with every single one of us. “I’m not going to jeopardize our safety needlessly. If we do this, we have to do this as a unit. Right now, we need to get going. The night has been quiet—too quiet. Wouldn’t surprise me if the main body of the horde was less than five miles east of us now.” So much for me not freaking out, but I forced my muscles to lock in place and continued to listen to him. “We don’t owe anyone in that town anything, but there’s a good chance that they won’t make it without our help. I have no idea how many are in there, but from what we’ve been hearing all year long, it's one of the communities that draws a lot of people here, families in particular. You know what I think of blatant acts of bravery—” He paused to look at me in particular before he went on. “But this might be our chance to make a difference. To show them that we’re not scum out to raid and deliver their mail for them. Fame won’t do us much good in this world, but it might get us a roof over our heads when we need it and food in our mouths when we want it. Now pack up your things. We have work to do.”