Part 24 Morning Visitor - Revised

Maggie was right, the night sounds were a bit freaky. I heard all sorts of movement in the woods at night. Coons and possums rummaging around, at least that's what I guessed they were. Mice moving from place to place, looking for food. Deer moving along their trails. Owls hooting and screeching after they made a kill. The near incessant chirps of crickets. Snakes moving through the tall grass and dried leaves to find a spot to ambush their prey. Lots of sounds to be heard. Especially since human noises have been dialed down to near zero. Light pollution has become drastically less, eventually going down to zero, once the infrastructure totally collapses and all the power-grids shut down. Shut down until a surviving electrician or electrical engineer gets them up and running again. And they will, eventually. I paused a moment to ponder at just how many people were totally jonesing out of their minds without their computer(s), cell phones and internet. No more pokes, status updates, blog entries, discussion forums to hash out difference of opinions, no more dating sites and alas no more porn.

I gave a small chuckle at that. Never had much use for the last one, it got all boring real quick. Rather the real thing. I turned my head to look back at the sleeping forms a few yards away from me. Maggie and James were cuddled close in an effort to keep warm and to maintain some semblance of their increasingly unraveling bond. Perhaps this is why Maggie decided to cling to me the way she has been. This fiercely independent warrior woman still needed someone to hold on to. I shook my head in wonder, must've made a helluva first impression or she was just that lonely.

In the truck, during our drive south, she acknowledged her concerns for James growing up without a good strong father-figure. Who me? Oh geez. I'm lucky enough to care for myself and to have survived these few months by my own wits and training. I reckon a father figure is just someone who leads by example. I dunno, I was having a hard time just getting the kid to like me so he wouldn't shoot me off hand for “moving in” on his mom.

I moved around very little during my watch. My throat was dry but not uncomfortably. Once in a while the hairs on my neck stood up a little as if I were feeling unseen eyes upon me. Could've been the sniper or could've been just a buck eying me warily before moving along. In the night shadows among the trees I knew I couldn't allow my imagination to run rampant. Off in the distance I thought I could see a zombie moving between the trees, until it moved into a brighter spot in the woods that I could see that it had a different shape than that of a humanoid.

Now there's an interesting word. Are the zombie still considered human? I quickly shook my head, not wanting to distract myself with that mental argument. Done that enough already. They're dead as dead people have always been, only difference is that they're up, walking around and the most dangerous they've ever been. Seems that their only instinct is to find food. Not too far removed from our own living instincts. I kept wishing for Maggie's starlight scope on this particular rifle, or James' night vision goggles. Both were in the trucks. I wondered if the sniper had a pair. The type that is mounted on the head, leaving the user hands free. Is he looking at me now? Studying me, biding his time? How close was he? Hell, was he even there at all and we just imagined his presence. If that were the case then he was a very good sniper indeed. Since their job was not only to hit long range targets but to cause un-ease with the “enemy”. Were we his enemy? We killed his leadership and didn't help much when his group got over-run. Then the contradiction to the idea that we're against one another was the fact he tagged the last zombie that attacked me when I went to get my pack. I hate mysteries.

I looked up to study the night sky through a gap in the trees I found. The black of night wasn't quite so. Meant that the sun was rising. My watch was officially over but I hung out for a bit more. I was starting to like Frank and decided to let him have another half hour of sleep. If you could call it that. Either way I could always cat-nap in the truck while Maggie drove. I turned to look back at the sleeping group. How nice would it be to simply rest and sleep deeper than we've all had in a long time. How nice to sleep. I yawned and realized that I had just nodded off.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me because I had no idea how long I was out. A few minutes?Couple of hours? No, the sky was just as dark as it was, last I remember. Couple of minutes then. I took a deep quiet breath and held it for five seconds before releasing it slowly. I felt calm again, ready. I did another scan of the area around us. Everything was as I last saw it. I listened and birds were starting to sing in the trees, signally sunrise was very soon. I did a quick focus on my own body senses, no standing hairs, no twitches of apprehension, just... calm. I scanned the area closer to us once more, then decided to wake up Frank.

I turned to make my way back to our camp when I heard a low rustle and movement out of the corner of my eye. Too late, the knife blade as at my throat, pressing as hard as the arm pinning my own holding the rifle close to me. At my back I felt a large, strong muscled body pressed against my lean form. The blade was wicked sharp and I imagined that it had already cut through the first couple of layers of skin as it pressed firmly against my throat and along the jugular vein on my left side. I knew if I moved it would be the last I would ever do, except grasping at my throat as I fell to my knees bleeding out and losing myself to consciousness with each beat of my heart. Surprisingly, I was still calm, almost as if I had expected it, I reckon I was, and repressed an urge to chuckle. What I noticed most however was the intense body heat this guy was giving off. Did he have a fever?

The knife wielder didn't need to say anything, his breath was doing all the talking for him. A putrid stench of chewing tobacco, alcohol and blood. I could imagine the breath washing over rotten teeth, stained yellow from tobacco juice and god knows what-else. The smart-ass part of me wished that I had a package of altoids breath mints, because I'd surely offer him the whole tin. My neck twitched involuntarily and finally the sniper spoke. Predictably he hissed between his (stinking) teeth, “Don't move.” That was all, no dangerous threats of what would happen if I disobeyed. His arm across mine and my chest shifted a bit but the knife stayed perfectly still. I felt my eyebrows lift up and I relaxed in his grip. All I could do is wait for the inevitable monologue.

I heard an intake of breath, yep here it comes. “Been watching you the longest,” he whispered. His voice rough, but not deep, or even remotely intimidating. “You've got guts going back for your shit like that.” There was a hint of genuine admiration in that statement I noted. “But guts alone ain't going to get you to live long. You killed four of my buddies and let the rest go to the geeks.” I felt his head shaking in feigned disbelief. “You got some good shooters in your group. Why didn't you help out?”

I didn't even bother answering, I had a feeling that this conversation was going to be rhetorical and one sided, he was just venting before the kill. Geez, the guy was a comic book villain. “It's just too bad,” he continued and his voice getting louder with his bravado, “you won't get to taste that bitch of yours anymore. But her kid looks even better.” At that I tensed up, which was a mistake as he tightened his grip and for the second time after meeting Maggie and her family, a knife threatened to slice my throat. Already, I was bleeding a thin river down my throat and chest. “Don't like that huh?” he hissed in my ear, “well, ain't that just too bad.” I felt his knife dig in deeper into my throat, I relaxed once more in preparation to fight back. The sniper continued his little tirade, “I like it, I like both, and it's been a while since I've had both. Tell me something, do I have the girl or the boy first?” he giggled which was the last thing he ever did.

A loud roar went off by my head making my ears ring and I felt the sniper's blood on the back of my head as his body fell away from me. Hastily I grabbed his knife arm and pulled it away from my neck before it sliced any deeper. I turned and holding the arm I was able to lower the body to the ground more quietly than if it fell. I looked up and there was Frank standing in a classic shooter's stance, his arm, ram-rod straight and pointed at where the sniper's head used to be, the barrel of his .45 still smoking. The expression on his face, in the growing light of the dawn was nothing more than rage.

I turned away and was caught by Maggie, who almost slamming me to the ground in her effort to hug me. The gunshot woke her up obviously, the sudden rise from her bed woke up James who was already kneeling with the automatic rifle at his shoulders scanning the area for targets. In Maggie's hand was her own sidearm which she held along one side of her body as her other arm wrapped its self around mine. My knees felt weak and I had to go down or I'd fall down. My heart was racing, pounding in my chest at my close call. Maggie followed me down to her knees as well, making an effort not to cry.

Behind me Frank bent to examine the body. I turned around best as I could and saw Frank flipping the guy over. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't see at first but a red-beam of light shone over the body, it was a key fob with an LED in it. Maggie and I got up and went over to have a look-see for ourselves. James joined us a moment later. He looked down at the body and then stepped off, turning his back to it and made like he was scanning the area. I didn't blame him. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Huge gaping hole where the skull used to be and the brain leaking out wasn't all that was wrong with the guy. He'd been bitten by a walker. This was evident when Frank flipped the military flak jacket off the guy's chest revealing a torn piece of flesh missing. Frank pointed down to his leg and there was a patch of blood seeping through the pants as well. Probably what caused Frank to shoot him instead of trying to defuse the situation. The sniper was dying anyway. My guess was that he got caught as he crossed the highway, got bit, killed the walker and made his way towards us with the intent to kill all of us before he died. The stuff he whispered in my ear could've been what he also had in mind or just part of his feverish rambling. From the looks of him it was probably a bit of both.

Frank continued examining the body with his light. He flipped the body back over again and reached into back pockets hoping to find a wallet or some form of I.D. He did and holding the light in his teeth, pistol still in his hand he flipped the wallet open and looked at the contents. Maggie and I bent close to see. “Dammit” muttered Frank around the light in his teeth. With an angry jerk of his wrist, he tossed the wallet back down on top of the body and stood up. I reached for the wallet but Maggie stopped me with her hand. I saw in her face that it wasn't a good idea to even ask.

We both stood and waited. Frank stepped over to the tree I was standing against when the sniper had took me from behind and put his hand on the trunk and leaned on it. This time Maggie took a step forward her face concerned, “Dad?” Frank held his gun hand up and waved her off with the pistol, not threatening her, but just because he was holding it in his hand, his finger was out of the trigger guard. For want of something to do, I turned and made back for camp, “We need to get our stuff and go as soon as possible. Any zombies nearby would've heard that shot.” Light was getting brighter by the moment and it was easier to see where things were. A moment later Maggie joined me and knelt down beside me as I was stuffing my sleeping bag back into it's sack. “I'll explain what's what when we get back on the road” she began and was about to say something else when she grabbed my shoulder. “Shit, you're bleeding. Did he cut you?”

My hand went to my neck and touched it where the knife had rested on it. It came away bloody. “Yeah, but not deep, I'll be alright.”

“Bullshit you'll be” she responded and pulled my shirt collar away revealing more of the wound and making me wince. “Ow!” I said as I tried to pull away. Her voice was suddenly angry, “stop it, it's deeper than it looks, you got a first aid kit in your pack?” She didn't even give me time to answer and went over to it and brought it down next to me, then started digging inside. I reached out and pulled it away from her, “It's on top” I told her with an edge in my voice. Sure enough as I said, the first aid kit I carried was in the top compartment in yet another zip-loc baggie. I pulled it out and handed it to her. I knelt there sitting back on my heels letting her do the work. I figured that it would've been useless to argue.

In a few minutes she had me patched and bandaged again. “This is the second time I've had to patch that neck of yours. Without me you're going to lose it eventually.” Her tone lightened a bit. She gave me a slap on the arm. “Don't think in this environment that a little bitty scratch with a knife isn't going to kill you. Supposed he used the knife to kill the walkers that bit him? Didn't think about that did you?” She was right, the bastard could've infected me simply by doing that. I was going to have to keep an eye on myself for the next half hour or so. If I felt feverish or sick, then well...

I finished stuffing my sleeping bag in it's sack, tightening down the compression straps and put it back into my pack along with the stove and pans. As I got up, I saw that Frank had moved over to his sleeping bag and was rolling it up. I went over to him, shouldering my pack as I walked. “Frank?” He didn't respond, a little louder “Hey Frank?” He stopped and looked up at me. “Just want to say thank you.” I said. He nodded and went back to finishing up with the bag. I decided to have a closer look at the blade the guy held at my throat.

I picked it off the ground and blew off the debris from it and examined it closely. Basically the blade was clean with no sign of the dark fluid that passed for walker blood on it. But that didn't mean anything, he could've wiped the blade off on his pants or clothes. I bent to the body and thanks to the dawn's light was able to see it more clearly. I brushed away at it, it had leaves and small bits of twigs and dirt all over it. Once more the body got flipped over and I looked closely at the clothing. Other than his own blood the articles seem clean. Maybe I got lucky. We'll find out soon enough. Then again he could've wiped the blood off on the walker's body. I hated not knowing.

Everything was packed and we headed back towards the highway. At the top of the hill we approached carefully and looked down. Crows were busy and a few buzzards were gathering above us, circling. Nobody saw any movement except for the birds. Frank knelt down and motioned for me to do the same. “If we're lucky there's no zombies down among the cars anymore. Still one of us needs to go down there to make sure.”

“Oh no! Forget it. He's gone down there once already, I'll go and check things out.” Maggie interrupted. She took a step forward down the hill. Frank's voice was firm. “Stand fast Sargent and that's an order.” She froze, then took a half step backwards and faced her father. “Sir, John is injured and has already risked his neck once going down there to get his pack.” Frank was about to argue back, when I stood up and held my hands up. “Hold it! Stop.” Both of them gave me their attention. I looked at Frank. “Who did you leave in charge here?”

The man grinned and pointed at me without saying anything. I nodded affirmation, “Ok,” turning to Maggie. “Whether I'm injured or not is besides the point. But you are probably the freshest one we got, so you go but only down as far as the guard-rail on this side. Check things out, then give us a wave to come on down. Then, we'll leap-frog to the trucks.” I paused looking at the boy. “Make sure he understands, please.” Maggie looked down at Frank who was still on one knee. I didn't have to look to see that he gave her a nod. She turned to James who stood quietly waiting for someone to translate for him. In a few moments, she was done. He looked at me then at her. He pointed his finger at her then made a single sign with both hands. She leaned towards him and kissed his cheek and made a sign against her face. She made a quick weapons check of the automatic rifle she was carrying, then stepped out into the sunlight.

Within minutes she made her way down the hill, moving carefully and always looking left and right along the road side. She reached the dead shot gun walker lying in the ditch and paused for a moment. Moving more carefully she worked her way up to the guardrail and peered over the edge and waited. Finally she raised her arm and made a single “come down” motion.

I turned to Frank, “you first, then me and tell James to cover us and follow immediately.” Frank nodded and did a quick signed version of what I just said. James shrugged and stood there waiting. Frank moved down carefully, I counted to 10 then followed. The grass was slick with morning dew and made the footing treacherous, but Frank was wise to it and slid down mainly on his butt with one leg tucked underneath him and the other pointing out like a rudder. He was slow but careful. I copied his movements remaining 10 feet above him. In a few moments I heard James making his way down behind me.

We made it all down safely without incident. Getting over the tangle of weeds and vines by the culvert wasn't a big of a hassle since it'd been trampled down quite a bit from all the traffic earlier. Without another word I crossed over the guardrail and made my way back to our truck.

I was about to signal the others to come and follow, when I spied something on the windshield, a piece of paper that could've been trash, only it was folded and tucked neatly under the driver's side windshield wiper. I reached out over the side mirror, grabbed it and was about to read it when something grabbed my ankle with a growl. I stepped back and drew my sword. A hunter-zombie found it's way under our truck.

I had to yank the zombie out enough to get a good strike with my sword. The zombie was growling more louder as I kept trying to get his head out a bit further from the bottom of the truck. I looked around quick to see if it had attracted the attention of any more lurkers. It had and I saw one making it's way towards me around some of the cars. I turned and saw Maggie and the rest watching me. I pointed towards the shambling walker by the cars and made a slicing motion across my throat. James leaped over the guardrail and ducked and bobbed his way towards that zombie. I hoped that he had a good sized knife. Maggie was white-faced as she watched her son.

A growl and a tug on my ankle reminded me that I had my own problems to worry about. The zombie that had a hold of me had crawled out enough so that I could stab it in the head with my sword. One arm was missing in a dried bloody stump by the shoulder joint and it's face had been gnawed upon. I held the tip of the sword against the skull of the zombie and drove it down hard as I could. All it's movement ceased instantly. I withdrew the sword and wiped the end off on the cleanest part of the zombie's shirt and sheathed the blade. I then put one hand on the door of the truck and balanced myself so that I could step on the wrist of the hand that was grabbing my ankle. With a twist I got my foot free and kicked the hand away from me, back under the truck. I turned and saw just in time, James coming up behind the shambling zombie headed for me and he knocked it down with the butt of the hunting rifle he was carrying. In three savage jabs he drove the butt down. Each time the butt of the rifle came up messier. Maggie and Frank reached me then Maggie went straight for James.

The boy met his mother half way and he nodded as she looked him over, they talked for a quick moment. His attitude was more of “Geez mom, I said I was alright”. I had to grin. I looked at Frank who was watching me. “The kid is a tough cookie, I'll give him that.” I said. Frank nodded, “But still reckless.” He looked down at the zombie I killed, then around the area. “We need to get moving on out of here before any more of those things wakes up.” Then moved towards his own truck, waving at James and Maggie to get moving. The two separated after a quick hug and worked their way out of the maze of cars. I just realized that I still had the note in my hand and pocketed it. Didn't have time to read it just then.

“What's that?” Maggie asked as she reached the truck. I took the M-16 off of my shoulder and put it in the back of the truck. Then removed my pack and did the same, along with my sword. I reached for the driver-side door handle and then stopped. “Wait, we left our doors opened when we ran out of here yesterday right?” Maggie froze, staring at the interior of the cab, then took a couple of steps back and moved around behind me then raised her weapon, aiming it at the door. I braced myself to one side and nodded at her that I was ready, she nodded back. With a quick jerk I opened the door and, nothing came out, nor was inside waiting. Maggie sighed and walked around the back of the truck checking for anything else that might be a bother. I took the opportunity to get a quick peek at the “note” found on the windshield. I froze in spot after reading the message, too scared, yes scared was the right word for it, to move even an inch, yet the desire to duck down under the truck strained on the other side of myself fighting to freeze in place. Maggie's voice broke the spell.

“Hey!” she called out after opening the door and climbing in, “lets go, Dad and James are already on the move.” I tried my best to not look fazed as I was and turned with a weak smile and got in the truck. “What's that?” she asked, spying the note in my fist as I grabbed the steering wheel. I crumpled it up and let it fall to the floor of the truck and shut the door. “Just a piece of trash blown on the windshield,” I lied uneasily.
 Sharp lady that she was, she caught my expression and let it rest, for the time being. The truck started up easily enough and I shook my head clear and shifted the gear lever into drive.

At first we rolled a couple of feet then stopped, I looked in the driver's mirror and saw that a body was blocking the tire. Pushed on the gas and we drove up and over it, crushing it along the chest cavity. We worked our way out of the corral the way we came in. Following Frank as he maneuvered through the car maze until we were cleared of the obstructions. Frank drove down the high way just a short bit til he found a spot where we could cross with our trucks, to the other side. Once past the main wreckage pile he crossed back over and we were on our way.

I glanced in the rear view mirror as we crested a small hill and saw something that nearly made me slam on the brakes. Standing on top of the RV we explored the other day, was the figure of a man, holding a rifle in the crook of his arm, standing casually as if he had no worries. The real sniper, the one who left the note. I found myself hard pressed to tear my eyes off the mirror and watch the road as there were still the occasional car jutting out from the shoulders here and there. The RV, the man on top disappeared from sight when the truck reached the bottom of the other side of the hill. We still had several hours of daylight left to find a spot for the night. Hopefully it'll be far enough away from the dangers ahead of us, and behind us.