Man Eaters (Book 2): The Horde Page 9

  “Thank you for not making a big deal out of this.”

  “But it IS a big deal. I just can’t worry about an unborn child when there are forty living people I need to move through the zombie minefield. So until the day comes that you want a safer assignment, we’ll continue as if nothing has changed, okay?”

  “I’d like that. Thank you, Dallas.”

  “Is The Survivor ready to rock and roll?”

  “She’s all set. All ZBs have been trained and briefed. We’ll be ready to set sail tomorrow morning.”

  Dallas handed her inventory checklist back to Butcher. “Unless something unforeseen happens, we’ll be waving ‘see you later’ at nine o’clock.”

  Butcher nodded as she took the list. “Roger that.”

  Dallas started to walk down the ramp, but paused. “Got any ideas for names?”

  Butcher looked out to sea a moment before replying, “I was thinking something like Machete or Killer.”

  Dallas mouth dropped. “Seriously?”

  Butcher let out a loud laugh. “The days of Brittany and Heather are over, babe. Go big or go home, right?”

  As Dallas walked away, she still wasn’t certain whether or not Butcher was kidding.

  ****

  Dallas was making her way back to the camp when she heard it.

  At first, it was just the familiar sound of a ‘gator sliding into the river, but then she heard the splashing of the death roll––the distinctive sound of an alligator as it rolls over and over in an attempt to drown its prey—prey she knew couldn’t be drowned because it was already dead.

  Moving quickly toward the sound, Dallas pulled her Glock out of her waistband and led with it around a corner. Had she looked down at her feet, she would have seen the pair of fleshless hands grasping the air trying to find a way to get themselves back to its body. They missed her front foot, but got in the way just enough to trip her up, and into the river she went.

  When she made a loud splash busting through the water’s surface, she looked first toward the zombie hand that had accidentally tripped her up. All that was there was a pair of arms with hands opening and closing.

  Nothing else.

  It hadn’t attacked her, but merely tripped her. “Son of a bitch.” That was when she noticed the death roll sound was gone and the river was deathly still.

  Deathly.

  The ‘gator was making its move.

  Dallas knew turning her back on an alligator was certain death, so she stood her ground, Buck knife in hand, swamp water dripping in her eyes. She felt it approaching and knew she had only one chance to drive her knife into its eye or she would wind up like that zombie. If it came out of the water, she would shoot it in the head. If it stayed below, which she figured it would, she would have to use the blade.

  She silently thanked Luke for teaching everyone to use a blade with both hands.

  “Come on, motherfucker,” Dallas growled, gritting her teeth. She’d be damned if she was going out of the game as ‘gator lunch.

  A slight ripple on top of the water told her the ‘gator was fifteen…twelve…nine…six feet away, and Dallas prepared to drive the knife hard into the first part of the snout she could see. Even if it got its mouth on her, if she didn’t panic, she still had a chance to drive the knife home in the eye.

  Arms tight, stomach clenched, Dallas raised her knife, ready to plunge it into the water.

  She never got the chance.

  Roper came flying through the air and landed squarely on top of the alligator, sitting on top of it like it was a bronco—something she had done many a time before the virus. In a nanosecond, she drove her nine-inch Buck knife completely through the top of the large beast’s snout and all the way through its mouth and jaw, effectively stapling its enormous mouth shut.

  The ‘gator tried to twist her off, but Roper had ridden bulls far tougher than a big lizard, and she jockeyed the beast to the shoreline, all the while holding onto the handle of her Buck knife to make sure the animal’s jaws remained shut and locked. As the alligator tried to return to the river, its weapon-like tail slashing violently from side-to-side, a gunshot rang out and the animal twitched once before sinking into the silt.

  Roper put her foot on its head and pulled out the large knife, her clothes soaking wet and her short hair dripping with swamp water.

  “You okay?” she asked, gently pushing down the muzzle of the Glock Dallas had just fired.

  Dallas was staring at the dead beast. “Pretty sure I just shit my pants.”

  Roper wiped the blood off her knife and sheathed it before hugging a trembling Dallas. “You broke your own rule about going around alone, babe. That is a huge no-no.”

  Dallas pulled away, her legs trembling beneath her. “That…that was amazing. Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you sure you’re not Wonder Woman?”

  Roper laughed. “Only in bed, sweetheart.”

  Standing with their arms around each other, the two women laughed.

  “I’ve ridden far meaner bulls and broncs than that oversized handbag. He wasn’t even in the top ten.”

  Dallas kissed Roper’s neck. “Thank you, love. You just saved my life. Again. I’m pretty sure I’d be wedged under a log, tenderizing.”

  “Not on my watch, lover. But do me a favor and don’t do that again.”

  “You got it.”

  “Are we ready?”

  Dallas picked up the two still twitching arms and tossed them in the water. “We are, but there’s something you should know, and there’s no way to ease into this, so I’ll just say it. Butcher’s pregnant.”

  Roper blinked. “No kidding? Well that makes sense.”

  Dallas then repeated her discussion with Butcher as they walked through the swamp. When she finished, they were back at camp.

  “Mum’s the word,” Dallas said.

  Roper agreed. “Absolutely, but I, for one, think it’s great news. May be what we need to remind us that we have a responsibility to the future. The future is us and our progeny, and I think Luke is going to be ecstatic.”

  “Agreed, but my guess is that Butcher is correct in thinking he’s suddenly going to go all daddy-goo-goo on us, and right now, we need his head in the game.”

  Roper ran her hand along Dallas’s jawline. They stared at each other in that knowing way lovers have that drowns out all sound around them. “Yep. What do you say we slip into our little bed and pretend we’re making one?”

  Dallas grinned. “Don’t tempt me. You know how I can’t say no to you.”

  “Then don’t.” Roper toyed with the buttons on Dallas’s jeans.

  “We have a lot left to do.”

  Roper put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Man. Dog on a bone. Okay, lover, what all do we need to do that’s more important than having sex?”

  She didn’t have long to wait for an answer…and ten minutes later they were in bed, celebrating another day of having made it through the swamp.

  “I’m thinking there’s nothing better than survival sex,” Roper said, lying on top on Dallas’s naked body. “But next time…let’s not have a next time.”

  ****

  The next morning, when everyone gathered around the campsite, Dallas gave a rundown of the plan one more time so everyone was on the same page.

  Of those who were leaving, only eight were CGIs and all eight were going in the Fuchs, while the other thirty-two were traveling on The Survivor.

  “We’ll stop by the ‘gator farm and see if we can collect any of those there who want the chance to get out of the bayou. It will take you on the boat longer to get to Angola and you’ll be fishing, and gathering anyone you see along the coast. You’ll stay on the boat until you see the Fuchs. Once you see us, you’ll know we’re ready to clean out the prison. You are not to get off the boat under any circumstance. Are there any questions?”

  “What if we don’t see you? I mean, what if something happens?”

  “Then you’ll come back here and k
eep on keeping on. Anyone else?”

  A young girl by the name of Kat Warner raised her hand. “How do we know we can trust these new people?”

  Dallas shielded her eyes from the sun. “We don’t. That’s just the chance, one of many, that we’ll have to take.”

  Kat pet the pit bull she had found when she’d first arrived on the bayou. The dog was like a mini Zombie hunter, emitting an odd growl when it sensed one nearby. Because of this, Dallas let her bring the dog on board the boat. “I think people are more dangerous than zombies.”

  Dallas smiled down at her. “Do you now? Well, hon, you’re probably not wrong.”

  After answering everyone’s questions, Dallas felt the tension in the group tighten and looked over to Roper for last words.

  Standing, Roper cleared her throat and addressed the group. “We know separating makes us all nervous. We’ve had a pretty uneventful eight months here and have made a nice home for ourselves, but it’s time for us to look to the future, to grow, to fight, to take back our lives. Angola is a fresh start for us, and we CGIs are going to do everything we can to eradicate these man eaters and make it safer for the rest of you. You need to have faith in us and believe that we’ll be reunited as soon as humanly possible. Trust that we are in this together.”

  The Joneses stepped up; the father cleared his throat. “We want you all to know you are always welcome back here if Angola doesn’t work out. As much as we’d like to go, we simply do not feel it is worth the risk. We wish the best for you and hope you remember us in the event you are successful in cleaning the area of those god-forsaken creatures.”

  Once everyone had said their goodbyes, the ZBs all loaded onto the boat and, standing on the bank, Roper and Einstein said their final see-you-laters.

  “You guys be careful,” Roper said, tears welling in her eyes. “And keep everyone safe, kiddo. They need you.”

  Einstein nodded and reached for Cassie’s hand, something he had never done. “We’re gonna expect you guys there, okay? Don’t be a hero and don’t let us down.”

  “We won’t. We’ll collect Sully and his people and hustle our way to Angola. You just keep the faith.”

  Einstein jammed his hands in his pockets. He’d been quiet for the last couple of days, which was unusual for a kid who deserved his moniker.

  “Hey kid,” Roper said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “It’s gonna be fine. Better than fine.”

  “I know…it’s just…separating has never been a good thing for us, and now we’re not even going to be on solid ground. We should stay together.” Einstein looked up at Roper. He was beginning to fill out the way boys do. “It’s just…we said we wouldn’t separate again, you know?”

  Roper looked away. Almost every time they had separated coming here, things tended to go south, so they had promised each other they wouldn’t do it again. “I know, and you know if we could avoid it, we would.”

  He quickly blinked back tears and Roper wondered if he was going to cry. “I think we’re doing the right thing, but I’ll feel much better when we’re all back together.”

  “I’m with you there, big guy.” Roper hugged him tightly. “You keep Butcher safe,” she whispered, not wanting to let him go.

  “Will do. And Roper?” He struggled to find the right words. “I love you, ya know?”

  Roper mussed up his hair. “I know…right back at you.”

  When everyone was on board, Dallas and Roper waved as the boat pulled away before they headed back to camp.

  “You think we should have brought him?”

  Dallas shook her head. “Nope. Too hard keeping him safe. It’s just easier to move among them without inciting their hunger.”

  “That broke my heart. It looked like he was going to cry.”

  Dallas sighed loudly. “My guess is he already did. We’re family now. It doesn’t feel right to be separated. Besides, he’s right. We did make a pact and now we’re breaking it.”

  Roper took Dallas’s hand in hers. “Then, after this, let’s not anymore.”

  Kissing the back of her hand, Dallas smiled softly into her eyes. “You got it.”

  ****

  Einstein’s Log

  Saying my goodbyes to Dallas and Roper sucked big time. We’d made a pact not to separate after we lost one of us to the eaters. That pact kept us alive, so I’m not exactly thrilled to be shipped off with the others. Nothing against them, of course, but a deal’s a deal, and I don’t like that we broke our pact. In fact, it bums me, a lot. I don’t care for being zombie bait, and I don’t like the fact that this has become a separating point for us. I know they’re just trying to protect us, but me and Butcher have held our own, you know? Suddenly, we’re stuck with the others? It pisses me off. Even though I’ve done my time training everyone, I still got stuck on the boat babysitting. Well, that’s what it feels like.

  I’m not alone in these feelings, either.

  Butcher’s been really pissy lately, so I asked her if there was anything I could do. She stared out into space and said, “Can you turn back the clock?” I’ve never seen her like this and it scares me. Then, when she was loading food onto the boat, she tossed her cookies. I mean like Linda What’s-her-name from the Exorcist movie. It was so gross. I’m thinking she might be pregnant, though her body doesn’t really indicate that. Still, that woman was green, and I’ve seen her reach her hands into a deer’s open belly, seen her kick the detached head of a zombie through goalposts, and watched her gut a man eater so hard, her knife came out his back, so I know it wasn’t the food.

  If she is pregnant, I’m not sure that’s a good thing. People tend to make decisions based on the health and wellbeing of their children, which means Butcher will stop caring about the group first and instead, make life and death choices that are set in motion by maternal instinct.

  Good for her kid, not so good for the rest of us.

  Of course, I could be wrong. Who knows? Cassidy said she thought Butcher looked thick. The rest of us have lost weight, but Butcher seems to have maintained the same weight. I don’t know. It’s a tough call.

  Speaking of Cassidy, she’s become a really good shot with a rifle. I only wish Dallas would allocate more than fifty rounds per person for training. I know we need the ammo, but what good does ammo do if there’s no one to shoot it accurately enough to bring down an eater? The other day we were out hunting and Cass bagged a wild pig with one shot through the forehead. Man, she was calm and cool. She’s a way better shooter than I am. Sometimes, I just feel useless. I wish I had more to offer than just my zombie knowledge. I even had Luke show me how to cut off a man eater’s head, but I failed miserably on a dead zombie. Took like twelve chops to get that damn head off. I guess as long as I know shit, I’m not totally useless. I just wish I had something more…something Cass would think was uber cool. Girls don’t tend to fall for guys like me unless you’re watching Zombieland, and even then, no one really bought that the cool girl would ever like the geeky dude. Of course, if there aren’t that many eligible guys, I have a chance. LOL.

  Anyway, now we’ll make our way out of the bayou and up the river. We’ll have to be careful not to go out to sea at all. Two months ago, someone tried to sail out of the NOLA harbor and they were blown to bits for the effort. The foreign powers are making sure we’re not a threat to anyone and so they keep us pinned here on a continent full of zombies waiting for us to die.

  That leaves us with our plan.

  Despite splitting up, it’s a good one, I think. I’m guessing the global powers are not really wanting to take us over. I believe they have sent us a very loud and frightening warning. They have crippled us, to be sure. Our infrastructure no longer exists and our telecommunications are down. Our water supply, while intact, is shut off, as is the electricity. Gasoline is harder and harder to come by, but then so are fresh fruit and vegetables. For every month that passes that all of our mechanized industry is not running is another business, another set of goods we won’t see fo
r a long, long time. Machines can’t just lay dormant. They need to run. They need oil. They need TLC. If we don’t get a handle on this, we’ll be starting from scratch.

  Unless someone comes in to take over.

  My feelings about it are that they would have already sent troops in here to start cleaning up, but they haven’t. There’s only one reason why: They are going to wait the five to ten years it takes for a zombie to decompose. Either that, or they are trying to create a sort of anti-virus that will kill the man eaters. That would be the smartest thing, but at what cost to us?

  Our government had an anti-virus—or so they thought. It didn’t work. It was supposed to shut off the zombies’ brains. Yeah, nice try. You make a bioweapon without making sure you have the antidote?

  Bad, bad move.

  If China or Japan could create something to deactivate the zombies, then they’d have our once prosperous country free and clear. All they’d have to do is come on in and take over.

  So, fighting and reclaiming our country is really our only hope. It’s a gutsy move on Dallas’s part, but one I totally agree with. I mean, come on! We are thinking, capable beings. A hundred of us ought to be able to take out a hundred thousand of them anyway. It might take a while, but if we can amass the members, we can create a Zombie Revolution. A sort of Take-Back-the-Country kind of thing.

  Wait.

  TBC. No. Wait. Take Country Back. TCB. That’s the perfect slogan. We can Take Care of Business and Take Country Back. Yeah…I can see it now. If we could drop thousands of flyers from a plane over a few major cities, we could become the rebel force once more. We beat back the French and the British—why couldn’t we do so with these unthinking creatures?

  I think we can.

  And if we can’t, I’d rather die trying.

  ****

  “Is it me, or are there more man eaters than the last time we came?” Dallas slowed the Fuchs down as an emaciated horse walked in front of them.

  “No, it’s not you. Looks like they’re definitely headed somewhere.” Roper gave Churchill the nod and he started up the ladder. “Single shot, Churchill. Don’t waste ammo.”