Zompoc Survivor: Inferno (19 page)

Her mouth inched closer and closer, and her other hand closed on the other arm. Then, she let out a little gasp and looked up at me. A moment later, she twitched and gasped again, her body jerking spasmodically for a few moments. Frothy blood bubbled from between her lips, then she slowly slid to one side to reveal Amy standing behind her with a bloody ZT Spike in her hand. Her lips were peeled back to reveal her teeth, and her jaw throbbed as she stood over Beth’s twitching body.

“Rule eight,” she growled as she held the blade up. Below us, zombie Beth started to stir. Amy crouched down and reversed her grip on the Spike, then drove into the top of Beth’s skull.  The very dead body flopped back to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut, and Amy left the blade sticking out of its cranium.

“I’ve got your back,” Amy said.

“Thanks,” I told her. The door into the building burst open and three men in armor came out. Each was carrying a pump shotgun and held it with the barrel not quite
not
pointing at anyone.

“Everyone stand back!” the first man said. Hernandez and Kaplan were at the front of the group that had gathered, but everyone else fell back at the command. Amy and I stepped away from zombie Beth’s body as Willie came out the door. He made a beeline to Beth and squatted next to her limp form. After a moment, he pulled the Spike out and turned her over to reveal several stab wounds in her back, most of them so close together I couldn’t tell how many there actually were.

“Looks like you forgot to give us this. Did she get you?” he asked as he wiped the blade off on her skirt. I shook my head. “Did you know she’d been bitten?” I could tell by the flat tone to his voice he was trying to decide if he could still trust us. I couldn’t blame him.

“I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been,” I said. “The Prophet checks his people over pretty thoroughly, and she hadn’t had contact with any infected since we rescued her.”

“There’s only one way to turn,” Willie said as he stood to face me.

“Actually,” Ruth said as she stepped forward with her hands clasped together. “There might be another way.” All eyes turned to her.

“Talk fast,” Willie said.

Chapter
10

Clues

~ Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil ~

Lord Byron

We ended up in the auto body shop next to the fenced in enclosure. Ruth, Amy, and I stood on one side of an eight foot tall plywood barrier, and Willie and seven other people were on the other side, looking down at us. Five of the other people were armored like Willie, but the other two were unarmored.

“Maybe y’all had better explain this again,” the black man in a brown work jacket said slowly. His accent was pure Missouri. His lean face and graying hair and moustache made him look immediately trustworthy to me, but there was no mistaking the strength in the hands he laid on the plywood barrier. He wore a pistol in a Sam Browne belt on his waist and I could see the barrel of an assault rifle poking over the top of the barrier. The triangular front sight and the height of it made me think it was a member of the M16 family.

“And this time, perhaps with less…jargon. In terms the layman might grasp,” the woman beside him said. Her tones were clipped, precise, just like the navy blue jacket she wore zipped up to the neck, though I couldn’t place her accent. I would have said European, but there was another influence I couldn’t place. Her unruly curls were graying in front, but dark in back. A boxy looking little assault rifle was slung across her shoulders, and she moved like she was comfortable wearing it.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Ruth said. “I’ve been working on finding a cure for this for days, and I forget that not everyone has a doctorate in microbiology. In less technical terms, the Asura virus seems to suppress the body’s ability to uptake serotonin and melatonin, among other things. It keeps you from feeling full, content, or drowsy. Someone infected with it will gradually become psychotic and, we believe, cannibalistic in order to fulfill their body’s need for these basic things. A few years ago, my division was tasked with finding more efficient ways for the body to uptake those same hormones. It came down to a few basic things. Corn, rice and other commercially grown cereals provide the bulk of the average person’s melatonin intake. We proposed a series of genetically modified crops that would provide a form of melatonin and serotonin that was…easier for the body to absorb. People would naturally feel more content after eating products made with those strains.”

“How does this explain that woman turning up infected out there without being bitten?” the man asked.

“On its own, it doesn’t. I originally thought that introducing foods with the enhanced hormones would suppress the reaction. See, the Asura virus makes people more and more aggressive until they turn violent. Miss Simmons had been exhibiting increasing aggression over the past couple of days, but it always seemed to abate right after she had eaten.”

“Except for tonight,” I said. Willie nodded in agreement. As skeptical as I sounded, it still explained the vast difference in her behavior last night.

“I can’t explain that, except to say that something must have changed, and that the foods no longer had enough of an impact to stop the virus from going active. That is precisely my point, though. Beth Simmons had to have been infected for
days
without entering stage one. That alone means that the virus is not contagious solely through contact with one of the infected, though we also know it isn’t airborne, either. It also means that something in her diet was suppressing the virus, and I think it was the enhanced melatonin and serotonin found in her food.” That caused a lot of concerned looks to pass back and forth on the other side of the barrier.

“Are you telling me that anyone who gets too hungry could turn zombie on us?” the man said.

“That would be a rather broad statement. It does mean that many people who turned at first may have already been exposed to the virus. Beyond that, I don’t know. We may only see isolated incidents like we saw tonight, or we could have a second wave of infection that further decimates the population. All I’m saying is that this means it is possible for someone to turn, as you say, without being bitten. It also means that something has suppressed or delayed it for days after the initial outbreak. With a little time, I might be able to isolate that delaying agent, and maybe even create, if not a cure, then a vaccine against the virus.” The man and woman who had been grilling us looked at each other, and the woman’s head bobbed minutely.

“What’s your name, miss?” the man asked, his voice suddenly warmer.

“Dr. Ruth Hollinger,” she answered.

“And then there is you, Mr. Stewart. In spite of your daughter’s subterfuge in concealing a weapon after being asked to disarm, Jason has vouched for your character, but good intentions only go so far. What else do you bring to the table?” the woman asked.

“Aside from a talent for killing zombies, I’ve also learned the skills necessary for a self-sufficient homestead, and I’m willing to go out to get supplies. And…well, I have this rule. Know how shit works. There’s all kinds of interesting stuff rattling around in my head. Comes from being a part time writer.”

“You also managed to piss off the other major player in the city,” the man said. “You might think that’s pretty damn impressive, but that means taking you in is gonna paint a big damn target on our backs. None of what you offered so far is worth the danger you’re bringing with you.” I shrugged. Getting in to whatever little clubhouse these people had going wasn’t a priority for me, and the man had a point.

“You’re right,” I said. “I am bringing a shitload of peril with me. But I have some place to be, and it’s a long way from here. Willie tells me you do, too. We can help each other out, or you can take us back to where you found us and we’ll find out own way across the river. ” They exchanged glances again, this time including Willie in on the silent confirmation.

“Daniel’s afraid of him,” Amy said. All eyes turned to her. “And we’ve been in his little Garden of Eden and made it out. Besides, how’s he gonna know where we are?”

The woman turned back to me.

“Are you heading west, Mr. Stewart?” I nodded, and she pressed on. The man beside her looked like he was about to say something but she shook her head and went on. “Jason does speak highly of you, and we can use all the strong arms we can get, both wielding the sword and the plowshare, if you take my meaning. We also have a way across the river. Our goals are closely aligned, I think. But if we are to help you with your objective, we must have your promise that you will help us in obtaining ours.”

I looked over at Amy and raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Rule twelve?”
Assume people suck after shit hits the fan, and that they’re after your stuff.
I was reluctant to trust anyone, but it had to start somewhere. But it was also Amy’s ass on the line.

“Rule thirteen,” she said drily.
Don’t be one of the people who suck after shit hits the fan.
Trumped by my own rule, I turned back to them.

“Okay, you have my word. I’ll help you do whatever you need to do,” I said.

“Just what are you expecting in return?” the other man said.

“A promise isn’t a deal,” I told him, quoting my grandfather. “My grandpa always taught me that your word of honor is something you give, not something you trade.” Behind him, Willie smiled. He leaned down and whispered something to the man and the woman who’d been talking to us. The woman smiled and nodded.

“You have our word that we will help you make it to where you need to go,” she said. “Come morning, you’ll all be allowed inside, and we can discuss the particulars.”

“One thing,” I said as they turned to leave. “What are your names?”

“Still a secret,” the woman said. “It isn’t that we don’t have faith in
you
, Mr. Stewart. We just don’t know who else we can trust yet.” She disappeared from view, and the two armored guards on our side of the barrier opened the door behind us to let us back into the enclosure.

Kaplan and Hernandez were waiting just outside the door, looking as worried as I’d ever seen them. Considering where we’d landed, that was saying something. Beth’s body was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the refugees seemed to have split into two groups.

“Well?” Kaplan asked.

“We’re still in, and we’re going to help them get out of town.”

“That helps us get out of town, so that’s good,” Hernandez said. “But what the hell happened with Simmons?” I gestured to Ruth, and off she went. While she was busy playing the verbal highlight reel, I pulled Amy to the side.

“So, what happened?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Amy, you charged in with a knife and killed someone. You stabbed her so many times, her back looked like Swiss cheese. A week ago, you had problems swatting flies.”

“She wasn’t someone anymore,” she said softly. “She was infected. And she was trying to kill you.” She turned and walked toward the fence. All I could do was let her. I was too tired to stop her, and I had some new bruises to work on, so I headed for the shelter again and laid myself back down on my blanket.

The next thing I knew, I was awakened to bright light on my face. I yawned and eased myself up. Someone had laid Beth’s thick blanket over me, and as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I discovered the most likely culprit sitting against the shelter’s wall. The blanket lay over Amy’s legs, and her head was tilted back so that she let out a tiny little rasp of a snore with each breath.

“Wake up, princess,” I said. I got to my feet slowly and looked around. Hernandez was a few feet to my right, racked out next to Kaplan’s equally inert form. The offending ray of sunshine that had awakened me was a sliver that had slipped between a narrow gap in the low lying pall of smoke and the horizon and a pair of buildings that were doing a terrible job of blocking that one ray of light from getting to my face. The morning air was chilly, but still not cold enough to warrant more than a sweater.

“’m ‘wake,” Amy muttered without opening her eyes. Blankets were laid out along the shelter’s two walls, most with less than a foot between them, except one spot where there was a large gap. I did the math in my head. We’d rescued twelve people from the Prophet’s compound, and there were four of us before that. With Beth gone, there should have been fifteen people in the shelter, and I was coming up one short.

“Someone’s missing,” I said. Behind me, I heard Amy stir.

“Tate,” she said a few seconds later. “He was next to Mr. Garza. He kept giving you the stink eye last night.” She followed me to the body shop. Different people were on the roof, and they came just as quickly as their predecessors did when I approached.

“Did anyone ask to leave last night?” I said.

“No,” an armored woman in a green tabard said. “Is someone missing?” At my affirmative answer, she pulled a radio from her belt. After a brief conversation, the door to the shop opened and a bleary eyed Will stepped out.

“Who’s gone?” he demanded.

“Guy named Chris Tate,” I said. “He was tight with Beth, the woman who turned last night. You guys are gonna want to pull up stakes and relocate.” He just smiled and shook his head, leaving me confused.

“Get everyone up,” he said. “You’ll understand when we get there.” Half an hour later, the fifteen of us were standing at the gate. Our packs and weapons were laid in a neat line on the other side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know the last twelve hours have been rough,” Willie said once the gate had opened. “Everyone here has gone through the same thing these past few days, and I’m not going to apologize for what had to be done. This is probably the least difficult thing you’re going to have to do in the next few days, so if you think things are going to get easier…this is your chance to change your minds.” He paused for a moment to look us over, but no one seemed eager to leave. “If you want to be a part of Heartland, it’s going to take a lot of hard work. Over the next few days, we’re going to be getting ready to leave Kansas City, and when we find a place to settle, we’re going to build a home. Nothing deep or fancy, just a safe place to live and raise our families. If you don’t mind getting your hands dirty, raising a few blisters, and busting your ass, you’re more than welcome. If not…” he gestured behind himself. When no one left, he nodded and walked out the gate, leaving anyone who wanted to come to follow on their own. We grabbed our gear, buckled on holsters as fast as we were able, and double-timed to catch up.

Willie and his squad led us to a sprawling white building to the west. Semi-trailers were backed up against loading docks, and several tractor rigs were parked near them. We were led up a set of concrete steps and through an open loading door, then through the shelves of the main storage area and out another door into a parking lot that was enclosed on three sides by the building itself. Two members of the squad went to a silver Lexus and pushed it back a few feet, then one of them pulled a hooked rod from his belt and lifted a manhole cover. One by one we were led down the ladder inside it and into a broad concrete spillway that ran north and south. They lit the way with the same kerosene lanterns that had illuminated the enclosure the night before, and after several hundred yards turned left down another tunnel branch. Finally, we were ushered up another metal runged ladder and found ourselves standing between two five story brick buildings.

All around us, people were working, laughing, or just going from place to place. A group of children were gathered around a woman and a man in one corner of the open space, while a group of men unloaded a hand cart and carried its contents in through a set of double doors. Near one wall, three men were swinging practice swords at thick posts set in the ground, each of them aiming for the head, the body, and the legs in order. A sturdy looking cinderblock wall blocked off one end of the space, with a set of wooden steps leading up to a platform that ran along its length about four feet from the top of its nearly twelve foot height. Three people stood guard on the walkway, each armed with a rifle and some variation of a blunt object. Two of the buildings were joined by a catwalk that spanned four stories.