“Yeah, they’re wily like that. You never know how they’re going to come at you. Looks like you got a few. How many do you think are left?” Jack asked, looking at the blood splashes on the parapet and against the side of the tower.
“I got ten-ish, the zombies…maybe half that. So I’d say this particular pack has roughly thirty really pissed off members left. Is that about a normal pack size? Will they merge with other groups?” Mike asked.
“They’re always pissed off. There isn’t really a ‘normal’ pack size. It’s just how strong the leader is and how many are in the area. An area can have many packs, several large ones, or just one massive one. The ones where I come from have merged into a pack numbering in the tens of thousands. I’m kinda hoping that hasn’t happened here. If it has, I’ll just take a puff of what Trip is offering and enjoy the day, because that’s all we’ll see if we stay here. How did the zombies react when the night runners showed up?”
“You’re just chock full of good news, Jack. I figured they were pissed off because they were former postal employees or some shit. As to the zombies, they fought the night runners tooth and nail.” Mike looked over to Trip, whose stomach was beginning to distend from taking in so much water. “Trip, buddy, breathe!” he shouted.
“Whoa! Sorry, man, I forgot,” Trip replied, pulling away from the spigot and wiping his mouth.
“Well, I figure we’ve got most of the day to get out of here, so let’s make the best of it,” Mike said as he reached over Trip and cranked the spigot closed. “I wonder if the water would be enough of a distraction?” Mike asked for the second time.
“There’s too many of them.” Jack looked over the railing.
“Dammit, you’re right. Worth a shot I suppose.” Mike looked over to the spigot a seemingly unquenchable thirst parched his mouth, but he’d be damned if he could drink from that thing now without a high pressure washer and twelve Clorox wipes to clean it first. “Can’t imagine that would keep their interest for too long anyway.”
Mike spun the top off his bottle and drank deeply, reveling in the feel of the cool liquid going down his throat.
“Too funny. Your postal workers go crazy as well? We call it going postal. John, are you going to be able to keep up?” Jack asked.
“Man, I’m hungry. I sure am glad they had some candy bars back at ‘The Man’ blockade,” John said as he reached into his pocket.
“What the hell are you talking about, Trip? There wasn’t any candy,” Mike replied, running his hand through his hair.
John pulled out a silicone-wrapped grey bar. “These look old. Do you think they’re alright to eat?” Trip asked as he pushed it under Mike’s nose to take a whiff.
“Are you seriously thinking about eating a block of C-4?” Jack asked, watching the conversation.
Mike pushed the bar away. “Are you kidding me? You just tried to shove C-4 up my nose?” Mike backed up a few paces.
“That would be handy if we had some fuses or blasting caps. As for how it is now, it might as well be a candy bar,” Jack said.
“So, can I or can’t I eat it then?” Trip asked with a slight pout on his face.
“Are you seriously asking that?” Jack responded, incredulous.
“Trust me, he is,” Mike replied. “Alright, the zombies are pretty straight forward, they’ll follow us forever. Some are slow, some are fast, and they don’t have much in the way of climbing or tactics. These night runners, though. Man, I don’t know anything about them, and they scare the shit out of me. Trip not so much, but definitely me. How are we going to get past them?”
“Yeah. I don’t see that we have that many options really. I guess we could try and use the night runners as a distraction, but that’s iffy at best. Perhaps we could hide out until night, toss down a shirt or something with our smell on it to lure them into the zombies, and make a break for it. I really don’t know. Avoidance was always the best choice and, if you did encounter them, firepower and an effective exit strategy is the best solution. I don’t see that we have either. Do you have any ideas?” Jack asked.
“We can’t spend another night up on the top of the tower. That’s only going to work for so long. I’d love to leave now while the getting is only fucking horrible. The night runners add a whole new wrinkle. I mean, once we toss the shirt, how much time are we actually looking at?” Mike asked. “Because then we have to get the hell off this thing.”
“I agree. I really don’t want to be out and about with night runners on the prowl. If they hold true to form, they’ll go immediately after the scent as long as they don’t see us. If we eliminate our scent as well, that would be ideal, but I don’t see how that’s going to happen. I’m hoping they may be distracted with fighting the zombies to give us some time to get away. But, if we can carve a hole through the zombies now, I’m all for that. I just don’t see that we have enough ammo to do that.”
“Shit, man, couldn’t you have been from a world that only had pissed off unicorns or something? Yeah, we definitely don’t have enough ammo to get through that horde, and then we have the added bonus that a fair number of them are speeders. I’d say we could take our chances if they were of the slow variety. We’ll give your idea a go. Worst case scenario, me and you become good huddle buddies on top of the tower. And then we figure something out the next day,” Mike said.
“Huddle buddies?” Jack asked with some trepidation
“Sorry. Don’t look at me that way. There isn’t much room. You’ll understand if we go up there.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Jack paused to look over the railing. “You had to go and bring fast zombies that run about during the day into the mix. I was marginally okay with night runners only coming out at night, but shit, man, we have this crap twenty-four-seven. Okay…so we hold out on the tower until night. We toss out a shirt or something close to dusk, hold out, and then see what we see, I guess,” Jack said. “Is John going to be able to keep up?”
“John has at least three friggin’ angels on his shoulders. If any of us make it through this thing, it’ll be him, I guarantee it. The problem is, he won’t know that he did.”
Jack chuckled. “Those are the guys I like to hang next to. Hopefully he can spare one or two to camp on our shoulders.”
“We could hide ourselves in the tower, that wouldn’t be a fun night. We’d literally have to stand on a ladder the entire night, and I don’t know if the hatch actually locks though. We’d have to hold our end of the handle so they couldn’t open it. I don’t know how far his angels’ wings extend, but I guess I’m still alive, so that counts for something.”
“I’ll carry the dude on my shoulders then. Heaven knows I could use an angel or two. I think I’ve used up mine and am having to borrow from others. Okay, so the interior is out of the question. So, we just hang here ‘til dusk and go from there. Do you have any cards?”
“Well, I can tell you’re from a military background. Haven’t met a vet yet who doesn’t play cards during downtime. No cards, no food, plenty of water though,” Mike replied.
“Okay, no cards, then perhaps a story or two. I’d like to know about your world.”
* * * * * *
I had my doubts about Jack. On the plus side, he hadn’t shot at me or even pointed his gun in my direction, which was as near to a win as was possible in this new world. The negative was basically my mistrust of all mankind even before the shit hit the rapidly twirling blades of the fan. It seemed much too fortuitous that he had stumbled upon us. I know, I know, not everything can be a conspiracy, BUT, some things can be. To what point, though? He’d proved himself invaluable in a pinch. And what possible state secrets could he hope to glean from me? Who knows, maybe he was sent to pluck secrets from John the Tripper. Lord knows the man had a past. Problem was, he probably didn’t remember half of it. More like a tenth, I suppose.