The Zombie Theories (Book 3): Conversion Theory Read online

  I looked around, trying to gauge how many infected were inbound, but could only see the two that had seen me. They were about a hundred feet away, so I felt it prudent to switch mags in the MP5, and then felt it even more prudent to save ammo. I looked around for something to use as a club, but came up empty. When they got close, I did both of the things with my SOG, one up under the chin and one through the left eye.

  The street was empty when I moved into the Tractor Supply building (the wrong one) to get some rest. The structure was the only two-story building in the area. With a fantastically giant and extremely un-zombie proof front window, I thought twice, but the second floor would be higher than anything else around except for the water tower two streets over. I would use the water tower tomorrow to look for my pals, but I really didn’t want to get trapped up there.

  Deciding not to smash the enormous window or break the glass front door, I moved around back to check for rear access. There were two. One roll-up jobbie on a short loading dock, and a metal door. It was locked, but then I remembered the crowbar that Deek had given me. It was in my pack. I had a crowbar. I blinked twice. I had a crowbar. The perfect zombie-killing device that I had searched the ground for not five minutes ago.

  Idiot.

  I jimmied the door, and stepped inside. No smell of death; that was a good sign. I couldn’t see shit and that wasn’t a good sign. I gave a quick whistle, wishing for the NVGs I had left on Atlantis. Nothing came stumbling or sprinting out of the darkness. I pressed the grip button for my tac-light and a thin beam sliced the darkness. I panned it around and saw I was in a large storeroom. Empty of anything that wanted to eat me, and no blood or signs of struggle. This was a big place, and I would have to clear it, but I needed to see to the door I had just come in first. I had broken the lock on the journey through, but whoever had locked this door before hadn’t engaged the two deadbolts, so I obliged. I stayed out of the front display room, which contained a few pretty tractors, backhoes, and some ATVs. I was able to skirt the entire room and lock the door into it.

  Stairs behind another door led up and I followed them cautiously. Three offices greeted me, with a water cooler, a coffee maker, and a big copy machine in the hall. I cleared the offices and the little bathroom. No couches to sleep on, but at this point, the floor called. I looked at the picture of a fat woman and two equally fat kids. They were probably part of the horde that was in this general vicinity.

  This place was as safe as any, so I shut the office door and sacked out. I looked out the rear window and noticed that the sun was just coming up.

  I woke up in a sweat. Not because I heard something or because I was terrified, because it was hot. Like, damn hot. I was extremely uncomfortable and dripping with sweat. I looked out through the curtains again and could see that that sun was really high. I guessed it was probably noon. Or I could just look at my watch. It was 11:51.

  I drank the last of the orange soda out of one of the bottles and filled it back up with water from the cooler. I put my weapons on the office desk, sat down, and took an ammo count. 54 rounds for the SIG, two suppressors left. Three full mags of subsonic for the MP5 after I unloaded two of the half mags and consolidated. Two loose rounds as well.

  Shit was getting tight. Three more MREs, my full canteen, two liters of water and two liters of piss-warm orange soda. I used a small whetstone that Javi had given me to make the edge of my SOG gleam, packed up my shit, and I was ready to go. As an afterthought, I drank as much out of the water cooler as I could without getting too full to move.

  I parted the curtains and took a peek outside. Nothing moving, but I couldn’t see in the direction I wanted, so I checked the other office windows. A few stragglers, but they seemed to be moving off back toward the city.

  I was back downstairs and looking into the display room in a few moments. It was really hot in there too and I gave another short whistle to see if the place was empty. It was. I stepped into the room and looked at the shiny red Kubota backhoes or yellow and green John Deere tractors. It was funny, because Tractor Supply stores in my neck of the woods (back in MA) didn’t actually sell tractors, just all kinds of other shit. This place had all kinds of other shit too, like gun safes and bags of seeds, but what was most appealing to me at that moment, was the gigantic map of this tiny town. On it, noted with two big, green stars, were two other Tractor Supply stores. Two others. Doolittle is a town of, maybe, three fucking people, so they each got their own store? WTF? Didn’t make sense. I guess Edinburgh had a serious need for tractors.

  Regardless, I knew how to get to the other two stores. Murphy’s Law says I pick the wrong one and get eaten, but F Murphy. I never met him.

  The first store was a mile away, and about the same distance to Edinburgh that I was now. The second store was a mile and a half away, and much closer to the city, back the way I had come. The city meant more pus bags, so the logical decision was to head to the one that was away from the vast hordes of undead.

  Weapons with full load, and my belly full of water, it was time to go. A quick scan and I could only see a few of the things, all shuffling away from me. One street up, one over, and take Cesar Chavez Road all the way to the other store. Cake.

  I unlocked the glass doors, slipped out, and made my way left. A quick right and I cut across a lawn to Cesar Chavez. I was attempting stealth and was doing pretty well. Two more lawns and I saw something remarkable. Three houses down, munching on some kind of green bush, stood an extremely familiar horse. The big bastard was quite unafraid now that there were no undead about, and just casually having a fucking snack.

  I made my way to him and he looked at me then quickly looked away.

  “Really? You won’t even look at me now?” He lowered his nose a bit. “What kind of horse are you anyway? Running off at the first sign of danger?” Nose further down, this was effing great. I grabbed the loose reins, pulling his face to mine so he would have to look at me. “We’ll deal with the horse in the room later. Right now, I would really like to not get dead. Our buddies are at a different store and I know where it is,” I gripped the reins tighter and touched his nose with my nose, “but if you try to run off, I will absolutely fucking shoot you.” I held up my index finger. “You get one of those. One. That shit is used up, you feel me, dog?”

  I checked to see if my water bladder was still on him and it was. I took it off, unscrewed the fill cork thing and he perked right up, his ears standing straight into the air. “Thirsty from all that cowardice? Uh-huh.” I held it to his lips and let him take a big drink. We spilled some, but I knew we would get back to the Double Hoof much faster with me on him, and he needed water. Boy did he drink too. I tried to pull the bladder away when it was half empty, but he put his teeth on the neck of the fill piece and held on. I gave him some more, and pulled it back. “That’s enough. There’s plenty back home.” I reattached the bladder to him and he gave one of those horse alerts. Ears and head up, looking in all directions, he started nodding his head. Sure enough, a small crowd of the bastards had found us.

  “It’s okay, they’re a quarter mile out. We have time.” I used a stirrup to launch myself onto his back. I had a little friction burn high on my ass from the saddle rubbing and it stung immediately when it touched the saddle. My elbow still hurt like hell too. “Let’s go.” I pulled the reins to the right, and we trotted off toward the other store.

  We didn’t get a half mile when we came upon two other guys on horseback. I shifted my MP5 on its tactical sling and put my finger on the trigger. The two guys looked to be of Native American descent, and they were armed to the teeth, both with Henry Rifles and pistols on each hip. One had a compound bow and the other looked to have some kind of axe in a holster. I was nervous, they looked capable.

  “Mornin’,” one said in a Texas drawl. “Been’ trackin’ you since that house you slept in. Left two of the dead ones behind in there. Sloppy.”

  The other one reached back to grab something. “Don’t,” I said, raisin
g my weapon. “Please don’t.”

  Both of them did something then that I thought was weird. They both put their hands up and smiled.

  “Now why would we want to kill the guy who saved our asses?’

  I was confused. My expression must have shown it because they both laughed.

  “I’m Daniel,” the one who had already spoken told me, “and this is James. You created a diversion so we could escape the courthouse.”

  James nodded to me. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to reach back and get something to give to you, okay? Don’t shoot me.”

  I raised the MP5 and pointed it at him. “Slow. Real slow.”

  Daniel produced an extremely familiar book and held it towards me. He gave his horse a slight spur to the sides and the creature moved forward.

  In a moment, I held the book in my hand and smiled.

  This is James and Daniel, they are friends, and have volunteered to find you. Go with them and they will take you to us. We are waiting outside of town as our previous rendezvous point became a focal point for undead. Don’t dawdle.

  Guess who signed the note?

  My puzzler was tired, so I wasn’t going to try to figure out why Ship or Remo weren’t with these guys. I straight-up asked them.

  Daniel answered me with a question, “Ship is the giant and Remo is the badass, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The dead got our horses when we got trapped. Your friends gave us these to track you.” Something smelled funny, because Remo was a damn fine tracker, and should have been with them. “And your soldier buddy might have a broken ankle.”

  “What are the horse’s names that you’re on?”

  “This is Smiley, and that’s Bil,” began James. “You’re on Shaitan. We work at the Double Hoof for Deek Meeks. Been there ten years, stayed on when the dead started to walk. The ranch is about twenty-five miles northeast, and I would really like to get back, so can we go?”

  I was relieved. If these weren’t the guys we came for, then they already knew everything they needed to attack the ranch, so fuck it, I would go with them.

  “Yeah.”

  Daniel smiled. “You talk about as much as your giant partner.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Wait a half hour. You won’t be able to shut me up.”

  They both turned their horses around, and we all walked together toward the new rendezvous spot.

  Christ, I was tired.

  Decisions and the Dead

  “He’s not a doctor.” I pointed at Remo. “You’re not a doctor. How do you know it isn’t broken?”

  He shrugged, moving his booted foot in a slow, and obviously painful circle “I can walk on it, it just hurts.”

  “Ship has some medical training, let him look at it.”

  “I did,” Remo replied. “He doesn’t have X-ray eyes, so he can’t tell for sure. You want to look too? Turn my head and cough?”

  “How about I remain the funny one and tell the jokes, and you just keep killing shit?” I smirked. “How’d you do it?”

  “Stepped wrong.”

  “Stepped wrong? Stepped wrong! You don’t step wrong. You’re… Remo.”

  He shrugged. “Shit happens.”

  That was good enough for me.

  Eight people, six horses. We got Remo on the back of Daniel’s horse. He had to switch off with a couple other horses on the way back to the ranch so we wouldn’t exhaust our mounts. Shaitan was a smaller horse, so I got to keep on him by myself. Ship was bigger than the horse he was riding, so by rights, the animal should be on Ship’s back. Javi rode with James.

  Deek offered to send out a truck with a couple of the fellas to give Remo and Ship’s horse a break, but Dix talked him out of it and told him to save the fuel.

  We had the horses walk or jog, and it took the remainder of the day to get to the Double Hoof. When we arrived, the heat was starting to get tolerable. Nothing tremendous had happened on the return trip other than my saddle sore increased in size.

  Deek and Kate were waiting for us with a couple guys in the tower. Kate waved immediately upon seeing us.

  After a shower, and a wicked bitch session on how I need to stop trying to get myself killed from Donna, she and I met everybody not on watch for dinner in the main house. Chicken wrapped in bacon with mashed potatoes and green beans. I’m pretty sure everything we ate had been alive the week before. If you’re reading this and starving, I’m so sorry, but the food at the Double Hoof was ridiculous. Every meal was fantastic.

  As we were eating and talking, I took a long look at the folks around the table. Just as the food had been two weeks ago, these people were all living on borrowed time. Eventually, some douche rednecks, military assholes, government pricks, or the dead would find them. It’s amazing they had made it this long. I looked at my mostly eaten chicken (I ate the bacon first, I’m like that), and gave a heavy sigh.

  All of the bad guys in the last paragraph were drawn to me like a hunk of iron to a billion-volt electromagnet. I looked at Donna, who was talking and laughing with the twins. I looked at Kat and Alvarez; she had playfully stolen a green bean off of his plate and he was glaring at her in mock rage. Dix was telling a story of how we saved James and Daniel, with Kelly and the Double Hoof folks captivated by the tale. I looked for Tim and felt a moment of sadness. Then I thought of Atlantis and all the people who had died there, and stared again at my plate.

  I had to leave. Not the table, these people. Donna would hate me. Ship would never forgive me. Kat would fucking kill me. My choices were simple: Stay or go. The plan had been to take everybody with me, but wouldn’t that be selfish?

  I loved these people, and their only outcome was death if they stayed with me, or more to the point, if I stayed with them. This ranch was as good a place as any to set up shop. They had a farm for Christ’s sake, and unlimited fresh water. They were off the beaten track, had a wall and power, and a shit-load of guns.

  My only problem was Remo. He would track me down, of that I had no doubts. Whether or not he would drag me back here trussed up like a turkey was unknown, but find me he would. ‘Course he had a busted wheel right now, so maybe my time was nigh.

  I looked at the folks who were still doing what they had been doing, and then looked at Remo. He was looking right at me, chewing. He stared for a second, then Deek asked him something and he looked away from me.

  I would go to Alcatraz, where hopefully the plane that Dallas was on had made it. I would let them know that there was a force of US Navy at the Panama Canal, then I would call Schumitz somehow and turn myself in for testing. I needed to think about that last part, but just because the shithead scientists at Baldy hadn’t found anything didn’t mean there was nothing to find.

  I hoarded supplies for the next few days, storing them near the solar panel array. I had to be careful not to get noticed because everybody would think I was stealing if I got caught. I mean, I was stealing, but not for me. I was doing it to protect these good folks. I thought about walking to Alcatraz, but I would be too slow and easy to track, so I needed to procure a mount. I know what you’re thinking, but it had to be Shaitan. That fucker was the horse that knew me best, and he owed me anyway. He was smaller than the others, which meant he needed less food and water, plus he was an Arabian, so he must have this hot Texas climate genetically imbued into every cell. It would get hotter and dryer as I got inland too.

  It was the supplies for my ride that got me caught. I had two sacks of oats, one on each shoulder, and I ran into Kate. She started to cry and threw her arms around me.

  “You be safe,” she said and trotted off sobbing.

  She must not have said anything to anyone, because midnight the following night, I made my escape. I got out of bed, got dressed, grabbed my guns, kissed my lady, looked in on the twins, then crept down the stairs. I thought I would have to tell Remo something interesting, and I had a whole spiel on how I couldn’t sleep and was just going to talk to Matt and Deek about so
mething, but Remo wasn’t there.

  I didn’t see a soul as I made my way to the barn. I grabbed Shaitan’s saddle and moseyed (this is Texas) past the other stalls looking at the mostly sleeping horses until I got to his. He was awake and standing, considering me. If he whinnied, neighed, or came out with any other horse noises, there would be a fuck-ton more glue in east Texas tonight.

  I glared at him, “Keep quiet, dumb nag.” He glared back and didn’t make a sound.

  I pulled him out and saddled him, leading him by the reins. I sighed. “You ready?” He turned his head a bit and let me climb up on him. We ambled (Texas!) out into the excruciatingly humid night.

  Light exploded everywhere when I reached the barn doors and I was looking at more or less the entire population of the Double Hoof. Everybody was dressed. Ship had his tree trunk arms folded, cords rippling like a professional wrestler. Remo was leaning against a fence post, chewing his toothpick. Where this guy found so many fence posts I have no idea. Alvarez stood stock still, over the twins, with his hands behind his back at parade rest. Kate beamed. The ranchers had my supplies in front of them, and that scared me a little. That fear was nothing compared to what came next. I noticed Donna and Kat standing together, hands on hips with full-on female scowls. Fuck. I swung my leg over the saddle and dismounted the hay-gobbling dickhead. I remained silent, thinking of what I was going to say.