If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn that little scamp had a big shit-eating grin on its feline face as he came back for more pets.
Tommy summed it up nicely. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it. That cat is coming with us and if anyone says different, they’ll have to take it up with me.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. As we got back aboard the RV to clean our weapons and secure for the night, I couldn’t help but wonder what else we were going to see on this trip.
16
The convoy out of California had been on the road for nearly three weeks. They had spent considerable time moving around large population areas and combating zombies when necessary. Considering the distance they had travelled, it was a marvel that none of their number had been killed.
There had been battles and some communities were not as welcoming as others had been. Major Thorton was savvy enough to realize when he was holding a losing hand and didn’t press the issue. When some communities showed a preference for fight it was a wiser choice to hold back.
The overall picture Thorton got as he crossed the heartland was there were more survivors than he originally had anticipated, but the lack of effective communication kept them isolated from each other. A few communities had set up runners, but for the most part, they were self reliant. This worked well for Ken, as he intended to make sure no other power came into being after he took over the governing of the country.
For the moment, he was enjoying a little rest and relaxation. He and his men had fought a number of zombies around the St. Louis area, so much so that he had been forced to take his convoy off the designated path and head around the city area. When they reached the river, Thorton realized he had to find a way across as the river was higher than he expected.
Fortunately, the Mississippi is crossed by several small bridges and the group managed to find one in short order. After the crossing, Major Thorton and his men found themselves in a state park, Pere Marquette and were taking a little rest after their weeks on the road. The park was in pretty decent shape and the hotel on the premises gave each man a room to himself and a bed for the first time in a while. There was plenty of water, thanks to the river and the woods provided a good amount of fresh meat. The men had explored the area and had not found much in the way of zombie activity. Down the road a little bit were some homes and a couple of businesses, but they had been looted and destroyed.
Right at the present, his men were combing through the forest preserve and the Major was enjoying a moment on the grand porch of the lodge. His captain was out with the men and Ken was appreciating his surroundings. Wouldn’t this make a great place to start the new regime? He thought to himself. Good place, plenty of resources and if the map is right, damn near in the middle of the country. Just about perfect.
Thorton’s ruminations were interrupted when a very wet and nasty looking creature stumbled into view. It apparently had been hanging out in the river area and finally motivated itself to see if it could get a meal with all of the activity of the men thrashing about in the woods. Water dripped off decaying limbs and the clothing it wore was simply in tatters. From this distance, it looked like pieces of skin were coming off with the water as well.
The Major looked around to see if there was anyone nearby he could order to get rid of this creature blocking his view, but of course, everyone was out of sight.
Naturally, he thought. Oh well, gotta do some things myself. He heaved his heavy frame out of the Adirondack chair he was lounging in and walked over. The zombie, seeing potential prey, let out a gurgling moan and managed to spew water in the major’s direction, not endearing itself at all to the living man.
Ken stopped at a woodpile and selected a suitable club, not wanting to waste ammunition if he didn’t have to. The wood was for the large fireplace inside the lodge, so the logs were about four feet in length and about four inches in diameter. Ken hefted his weapon and turned back to the zombie.
The ghoul was much closer now, moving steadily on squishy feet. Thorton could see its wet progress across the parking lot and again wondered where it came from, since zombies tended to avoid water for some reason.
Moving in, Ken readied his weapon in a baseball stance and waited for the zombie to get closer. Just as it was in range, he swung the heavy club. The log whispered through the air and would likely have knocked the zombie’s head clean off if it had connected. But the zombie fell at the last second and the log passed harmlessly over its head. Overbalanced, Ken spun around and fell on his back, his log spinning away harmlessly.
The zombie, seeing its prey suddenly closer, doggedly crawled forward, grabbing Ken by the ankle and trying to bring it in for a bite.
Thorton was not about to be brought down by a single zombie. He shoved his other booted foot into the zombie’s face and held it off while he drew his weapon. He was going to have to be quick, because the second he moved his foot, the zombie was going to snap forward and bite him. Taking aim at his toes, Thorton suddenly released the ghoul’s head and fired at the same time. The heavy. 44 caliber bullet slammed into the zombie, blasting apart its head in a spray of bone, brains and zombie bits. The now fully dead ghoul slumped to the ground and Ken shook his ankle free of the dead fingers.
The sound of the shot brought several soldiers running to the scene with guns drawn, but all they saw was their leader getting to his feet with a dead, wet zombie nearby. Thorton holstered his weapon and glared at the assembled men.
“Thanks for nothing. Where the hell were you morons?” he growled, staring hard at a small man on the far right.
The man blanched at being singled out, but managed to stammer out, “We were watching the trail. Captain Tamikara ordered us to keep an eye out for roamers while he and three others checked out a survivor sighting.”
“Survivor sighting? Here?” Major Thorton turned thoughtful.
“Yes, sir. The captain got a report from a scout party that there might be a couple of survivors up on the hill overlooking the rivers,” the soldier offered.
“What’s up on the hill?”
“Haven’t been there myself, sir. I heard from another man that there was an old government building up there and that might be where they sighted the survivors.”
Thorton looked up at the landscape. “Come with me. I want to see this place. The rest of you get rid of this mess.”
“Yes, sir!” came the chorus.
Thorton and the soldier walked over to the trucks and boarded the closest one. They drove along the park’s main road, dodging deadfall trees and branches and slogging through erosion washes. Everything a normally running park would have crews to remove blocked the passage of the big vehicle.
In the end, what should have taken an easy ten minutes to the top of the hill wound up taking a half an hour. By the time they reached the top, Major Thorton was short on patience and feeling rather frustrated. He stepped out of the vehicle and forcibly shut the door behind him. The slamming door startled a series of birds who protested as they soared to the skies. He paid them no mind as he looked over the facility. It was a small building, roughly thirty feet on a side, made out of poured concrete. It had two small windows and a single steel door. A large radio tower stretched upwards and the entire building was surrounded by a barb-wire topped chain link fence. A small sign near the single gate simply read “U.S. Government Property-No Trespassing.” The area was much more overgrown than the surrounding park, suggesting that this little area had been abandoned years before the Upheaval. What its purpose was, Thorton could only guess.