Slow Burn (Book 8): Grind (16 page)

“Yer’ both white as that bunch of ‘fecteds down there,” said the old man, the one who’d opened the door for us. He placed a worn straw hat on his head and looked at our other three defenders:  one black, and two younger people, a man and a woman, both with skin as pale as mine.

“Looks like white skin isn’t as rare as I thought,” I said, as I sat up.

Murphy elbowed me, as though I’d said something wrong.

The defenders didn’t seem to feel any urgency about the Whites trying to climb to the top of their silo. I looked past them to see if others were tending to the defense. No one was.

Odd.

“All together, we got four,” said the man in the hat. He reached out to help me up. “The rest of us ‘er normal.”

“I’m Zed.” I got my feet beneath me. “This is Murphy.”

“Pleased to meet ya.” He extended a hand to shake mine. “I’m Billy.” He nodded at an ancient black man, “That’s Isaac.” Billy pointed a thumb at two people with skin as white as mine. “Travis ‘n Holly.”

In a voice too deep for his wiry frame, Isaac said, “Howdy. Isaac Brooks.”

“Please to meet ya,” said Holly.

They all spoke in a drawl that seemed purposeful to the point of exaggeration, an affectation to prove membership in a group, The Rural People of East Texas Club.

It was just an observation, not a judgment, though my mind tried to make it such. And whose doesn’t? We were all human. Well some of us were—the rest were Whites—and that’s just the way human brains work:
Like me equals good. Different equals bad
.

I needed to stop letting my thoughts wander off on their own. They needed adult supervision, and I needed to take off my asshole cap and spend more time appreciating the nice folks who’d just saved my life.

Holly went over to get a peek through the window in the wall at the top of the ladder. Travis fetched a bowling ball from a bin that looked to contain a hundred or more. The bin and the balls struck me as strange.

“Had to raid the bowling alley in Caldwell to get most of those,” said Billy, noticing my curiosity.

Murphy laughed and shook his head. “Bowling balls.”

“They work,” said Isaac.

“No doubt.” How could I not agree? I’d seen their effectiveness up close.

I looked around the top of the silo. The roof was concrete and flat. The tower structure built behind the wall that protected the roof from the ladder looked to have been modified with plates of metal welded on to protect those within. All the way up here, I didn’t know what they were protection from, but I was full of guesses.

An elevated catwalk ran from the tower back down the centerline of the five silos. However, halfway across the silo on which we stood, the catwalk was blocked by a steel wall that bisected the silo roof.  It was smooth, except for the diamond plate pattern on its surface. Whatever support structure was required to hold it up was on the other side. It stood easily fifteen feet tall and extended over the edges on each side, such that there was no way a human could reach from this side of the wall to grasp anything around the edge. Any attempt would lead to a fall to the ground below.

A door similar to, but larger than the one at the top of the ladders, was cut through the steel wall. No other holes or features existed.

Along the top edge, on the other side, several heads peered over. Obviously, the wall had been fashioned as a rampart, and the people who lived here figured if they were going to have to fight for it, they’d fight from up there. Having planned for the event, they left this half of the silo’s roof mostly empty. They had the bin of bowling balls and four fifty-five gallon drums. A couple looked pretty new. Two bore some rust. Sticking out of the cap on one was a hand pump.

Beside the drums were stacks of jars, all with screw top lids. Each lid was holed, with a piece of cloth sticking out. Molotov cocktails. The drums had to contain gasoline or diesel. Plan B, if the bowling balls didn’t do the trick.

“You guys put some work into fortifying this place,” observed Murphy.

“It keeps us safe,” said Billy.

“You mentioned some rules,” I said. I tightened my grip on my machete as my suspicious imagination came up with worst-case guesses. “What are they?”

Billy cut a glance at my machete and Murphy’s M4. “Ain’t much. The usual do-unto-others type of stuff. That, and if you want to stay, we’ll give ya a couple of weeks to let you know if we like ya. Then you gotta pull yer’ weight, same as everybody else. Or you can stay the night and clear out tomorrow.”

“Thanks for letting us up,” Murphy stuck out his swollen hand for a shake, then grimaced. “Sorry, something bit me.”

Billy waved at someone on the wall. “Patty, would you help Murphy out, please? See if we got something we can give him for his hand?”

“Will do, Billy,” Patty called back.

A moment later, the door in the wall opened and Murphy went through.

I said, “Thanks for letting us in. We really appreciate it.”

“You can run along, if you want,” Billy told me. “You look like you could use a rest.”

Shaking my head, I said, “I’ll stay.” I pointed at the wall that blocked the ladder. “At least until we take care of the Whites.”

“Suit yer’ self.”

Holly said something I didn’t catch.

Travis dropped another bowling ball into the pipe.

It rolled through, making that throaty sound I’d become familiar with on the other end. A silent moment of free fall followed and I waited for the thud when it crushed a White’s skull.

Instead, something banged the hell out of a piece of metal.

Billy and Isaac looked at each other. Both wore worry in the wrinkles on their faces.

Holly cursed and pulled her little door closed. She looked back at us and said, “We got a problem.”

Billy hurried over to take a look through the viewing door. He spent a few moments looking down and then pulled his head back through. “I’ll be damned. Holly’s right.”

Isaac waited for Billy to step aside and quickly put his head out for a look. When he pulled it back in, he said, “Ain’t good. Seems they’re gittin’ smarter.”

Smarter? Haven’t you guys seen Smart Ones?

“I knew something was wrong the second that ball hit and busted,” said Holly. “It took me another second to figure out they was carryin’ some piece of metal for a shield. At least, the first one is. Thick metal, too. Maybe a piece of scrap we left down there.”

I took a deep breath and took a longer look at the silo’s defenses. A few minutes before, they had seemed impenetrable. Could the naked horde get through the metal wall at the top of the ladder?

Seeing the structure of the ladder-wall from behind, I couldn’t think of any way the Whites would be able to break through. But I’d never seen them fail when they corralled their half-pint brains and got them all herded in the same direction on a problem.

Pessimist Zed needed to figure out how we were going to get off the silo alive.

Might as well enlighten my friends where they seemed to have a blind spot. I said, “I don’t know what kinds of Whites you guys have seen out here—”

“Whites?” asked Isaac.

I pointed in the general direction of the ladder. “Infected.”

They all understood. Infected was the name floating around in the media when everything was going to shit. I suppose we all had slang we developed along the way, but
infected
was our common word.

“Have you guys seen these naked ones before?” I asked.

“They’ve been ‘round fer ‘bout a week,” said Bill. “We can see fer a good ways up here.” He pointed to something I couldn’t see on the dark horizon. “Got some outposts, too. Them nekked ‘fecteds been running ‘round in bunches, killin’ cattle, ransacking houses. A big mess of ‘em moved out yonder a few days back.”

By the time he finished, I felt like I’d heard about twice as many words as I needed to get the point, but that was Billy’s way, or so I figured. I said, “They’re oddly intelligent, more so than most infected. In the group, they’ve got some pretty smart ones mixed in, just as smart as you and me.”

Billy held his white-skinned hand up next to mine. “Like us?”

I nodded, changed my mind, and then shook my head. “Kind of. But when these guys got the disease, lost their pigment, and kept their intellectual capacities, they lost any sense of humanity, I guess. They’re like the criminally insane.”

Isaac asked, “What ‘er you gittin’ at?”

“They work together, like ants,” I told him. “They figure shit out in a hurry.”

Billy’s face looked skeptical. He turned to where Holly was peeking through her little door to view the ladder again. “The shield?” Billy asked.

“I’m guessing you haven’t had any try to climb up with a shield yet,” I said.

“Them bowling balls roll through that pipe, right nice,” said Billy. “Later, we go down, pick ‘em up and reuse ‘em. Been all we needed.”

“Pretty much,” Isaac added, laying a hand on a long-barreled rifle strapped across his back. “Pretty much.”

I pointed at the barrels of diesel. “What about that?”

“Last resort,” said Billy. “We ain’t had to use it yet.”

“They’re more than halfway up,” announced Holly, in high-pitched, quick words.

Billy looked at Isaac and cocked his head at the diesel. “Can’t see’s we got a choice.”

Isaac shook his head and then bounded over to the drums. “Travis, give me a hand.”

“What’s the risk?” I asked Billy, understanding he had reservations about putting the Whites to the flame.

“Couple,” said Billy, walking quickly over to the wall. He tapped Holly on the shoulder. “Ya mind?”

Holly stepped aside. Billy took off his cowboy hat and took a look through the hole in the wall. He pulled his head back, shaking it. He looked at me. “If we drop the diesel on ‘em, light ‘em up, this silo will look like a Roman candle for ten miles in every direction.” He looked around at the night. “Every infected with an eyeball left ‘ll see it. They’ll come.”

“
Might
come,” I corrected.

Billy shook his head. “Maybe ‘nough thangs burned up in the city that them infecteds you got over there ignore it. Out here, fire draws ‘em like nothing else. Unless you was down there hollerin’ at ‘em, I s’pose.”

“What about the grain?” Holly asked. “We talked about that last time.”

“We almost used the fire once before,” Billy told me. “Before we thought to get them bowlin’ balls.”

“And?” I asked.

“Ended up shooting a bunch of ‘em,” said Billy. “They fell off the ladder. The ones at the bottom, well, they ate the dead ones. You seen ‘em do that?”

I nodded.

“Stayed down there a couple days, I guess,” he said. “Then one morning, the sun come up and they was gone. Nothing but bones left down there.”

“The grain,” Holly reminded us.

Shaking my head, I said, “I’m not following. What’s the grain got to do with anything?”

Billy stomped his foot on the concrete roof. “This one’s about half full of dried corn kernel. They’ll burn. Hell, they’ll burn for a month maybe, probably even blow up if the gases inside mix up just right.”

“What?” I didn’t believe it. Grain, blowing up.

“It ain’t uncommon,” said Billy. “If we torch them ‘fecteds comin’ up the side, I don’t think the fire ‘ll burn hot enough to warm the concrete walls of the silo enough to catch the grain inside on fire, but you never know.”

Isaac called over, “I don’t see’s we got a choice on this one, Billy.” He pointed a bony finger at me. “If it’s like he says, and they smarter than most ‘fecteds, we can’t take a chance on them gittin’ up here. They already using a damn shield.”

“No.” Billy shook his head as he peeked out the window again. “No, we haven’t.” He stood back up and looked me in the eye. “You sure ‘bout this?”

“I’m sure they’re a lot smarter than any you’ve dealt with yet,” I told him. “They’re a lot more dangerous. I could tell you a hundred stories to make you a believer, but you know as well as I do that we don’t have time. You gotta make the call, buddy, or let me know if you’ve got a secret escape hatch, because we may need to get out in a hurry.”

That created a silence that seemed weird. Not because I thought I frightened them, but because I felt like they were choosing to keep something from me.

That was worrisome. I didn’t want to distrust my new friends.

Billy looked at his boots for a long, awkward time, while the others kept quiet. He looked up and drilled me with his bright blue eyes. “We got a way out. Maybe. But we’ll use it as a last resort.” He stomped his boot on the concrete again. “If this thang catches fire, it won’t all happen at once. We’ll have plenty of time to get through the wall, pack up, and leave. These things don’t happen like in the movies—”

I laughed.

“What’s funny?” Billy asked.

“Nothing,” I said, as I shook my head. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said that. I mean, now that I have to live in the real world.”

Billy nodded and smiled. “Anyways, this thang won’t blow up all of a sudden. Hell, it might not even do that. All I can tell you is, if it starts to burn, the other silos eventually will, too. We’ll have plenty of time. Days, weeks. Hell, maybe months.”

“Ya’ll need to stop yackin’ and do somethin’,” Holly told us.

“Yes ma’am,” said Billy.

Travis brought the first two Molotov cocktails over. One was a mayonnaise jar, the other a pickle jar, each containing about a quart of diesel.

“If we’re doin’ this, we need to do it now,” said Holly. “They’ll be here ‘fore you know it.”

“You tossin’?” Billy asked.

Holly unlatched and swung the larger of the two metal doors open. She picked up the mayonnaise jar and held it out to Billy, who already had a lighter with a flame on it.

I took a quick glance through the door. The Whites were less than twenty feet down. The one on top held a roughly circular piece of metal over his head. Holly nudged me over, singeing my eyebrows as she brought the burning Molotov through the door. She leaned out. She aimed.

I put a hand on her shoulder to bring her to a stop. “If you drop it right on top of that shield, I’m afraid it all might splash out to the sides, and not burn any of them off the ladder.”

She huffed, looked down again, turned to me, and said, “Yup.” She leaned way out into the ladder cage and tossed the jar. “Give me another!” she shouted. It fell as she came back through the hole.

The flaming Molotov hit the ladder just above the White carrying the shield. Because of the angle at which Holly threw it, the diesel splattered down the side of the silo as it burst into flames. Smoke and heat rose up. Whites screamed. The guy with the shield kept coming.

“Higher,” I said to Holly, as she got the next flaming jar of fuel from Bill. “Hit the rungs above him. Make him have to climb into the fire.”

Holly leaned out, threw, and pulled herself quickly back inside to get another firebomb.

I peeked out.

The pickle jar burst on the ladder four rungs above the lead climber and just a dozen feet below us. Diesel spread down the wall and onto the shield. Everything burst into flames.

Billy shouted, “Ain’t got nothing to lose. The ladder’s already burnin’ with diesel stuck to it.” A second later, more Molotovs dropped off the silo and into the mob of Whites crowded near the ladder, waiting their turn to go up.

The climber with the metal shield seemed to have stopped. Holly leaned out, looked down, then at me, “Where do you want this one?”

“Same place as before,” I guessed, having no better answer with which to fulfill my new role as Chief Targeting Officer. “On the rungs, just above him. Keep it on fire.”

Holy shit, she hit the same spot. Damn, she had a talent for it.

The shield fell away and apparently the White holding it did, too. Through all the fire and rising heat, it was hard to tell.

Suddenly excited, Holly announced to everyone, “The ladder is clear.” She looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded. “I think it worked.”

“Close it up?” She asked of anyone willing to answer.

At the side of the steel wall, Travis looked down at the ladder. He had a better angle to see the length of it. “They’re all off, fer sure.” He tossed another Molotov into a crowd of Whites on the ground at the bottom.

Billy looked at Holly, then Isaac, “Y’all keep an eye on things.” He thumbed toward the wall. “Tell Todd and the others to git out here.” He walked over and knelt beside a rusty, man-sized hatch in the roof I hadn’t noticed until that moment. He pointed at me, “C’mon. We’re going inside.”