Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation (37 page)

Rudy
leaned against the doorframe. “No. It didn’t seem right eating any, not without
your sparkling, lovely, and so very beautiful self at my side.” He smiled
broadly. “Maybe we can try for lunch tomorrow or an early, early breakfast.”

Renee
found that she was having difficulty breathing.

“How
about you tell me what she was doing leaving here instead.”

He
stiffened. “You mean Jessie?”

That was
who it was. Renee was really getting pissed now. The woman, who worked with the
dairy cows, was a tramp.

“It
isn’t what you think. I…”

She cut
him off. “You better think long and hard before you give me some bullshit lie.”

Rudy
hesitated, chewing at his lower lip. Then he shrugged. “Screw it. You want the
truth, well, I’ll give it to you. Renee, you are a fine looking woman, but
since you refuse to spread your legs, you can go fuck off.” He closed and
latched the door.

Chapter XII

We
arrived in Montana at one of the half dozen airstrips we favored. Policy
required the particular location be randomly selected. This was to prevent an
enemy from lying in wait. They could still do so, I suppose, but the attempt
would likely result in weeks or even months of hiding, doing nothing, being
bored, and possibly ending up as zombie chow.

At any
rate, we landed in the early morning hours, and that was with a departure in
the late afternoon. Going east through so many time zones was way worse than
heading west had been, and by the time the sun set, we would have been awake
for something like twenty four hours. This day was going to be brutal, and I’m
sure we’d all be dragging come dinnertime. Asher was the exception. He’d
managed to sleep on the plane and was full of energy. That wouldn’t last, but if
we could entice him to nap a few more times and then go to bed at the regular
time, he should return to his normal routine without too much fuss.

Xavier was
waiting with a Pave Hawk. Yes, I realize using a combat chopper to ferry us
back and forth is a waste of its extensive, death dealing capabilities.
However, the Pave Hawk is capable of carrying our entire party, the luggage,
and a few select items. The bulk of the goodies would go by truck.

“That
was certainly an eventful journey,” commented Major Briggs.

The
Yellowstone representatives were gone, having transferred to a Cessna almost
immediately. The major would follow shortly, leading a convoy with their share
of the supplies. I briefly considered how this made me look, in regards to my
not taking personal responsibility, but I quickly shoved that thought aside.
Marcus was more than capable, and he had plenty of heavily armed volunteers in
case they encountered any threats.

“Do you
really think putting a senator in the hospital is going to blow over?” asked
Briana.

This had
not been discussed on the transport, not with representatives of the Hawaiian
government seated nearby.

“Under
the current circumstances, it should. I’ll send you whatever updates I get, but
I really don’t think there’s any reason to be worried.”

“That
will be appreciated,” I said.

So much
drama and excitement. Considering the altercation after the fact, I realize I
could have handled things better. However, if it were to happen a second time,
I doubt if my response would be at all different. There is a proper, civilized
way to handle matters. Then you have the straightforward, no nonsense approach.
I prefer the latter. It is far more effective.

“I’m
expecting a period of calm,” I added, “so let’s all pray our nemesis, Murphy,
is not going to use Hawaii to screw that up. Aside from some minor scavenging
runs, I have nothing even remotely dangerous planned.”

“Would
be nice to be able to sit back and relax for once,” agreed Briana. “We need the
downtime. That goes double for the militias.”

“The
stress has been building,” agreed Briggs, unhappily. “It wasn’t all that bad
immediately after the battle with the raiders, but it’s gotten worse as the men
have more time to think about what they did and the losses we suffered.”

“You
could try some parties maybe,” suggested my wife. “We are definitely having one
for Labor Day, maybe something smaller between then and now.”

“I’m
sure the council in Yellowstone already has some planned. They seem to arrange
more than you.”

“So not
fair!” called Mary. She was a few yards off, digging through the crates we’d
brought back. “No one is supposed to enjoy life more than us.”

“Social
functions do seem to help,” he concluded, “and we try to prevent anyone
suffering severe depression from being alone all the time.”

“Feel
free to send any over to speak with Father Nicholas,” I said, “if they want
to.”

The
priest was at the center of our mental health care system. He had a pair of
undergraduate degrees, religious studies and psychology, and a couple decades
of practical experience counseling others. Father Nicholas was also
non-judgmental and readily worked with those of other faiths. The man spent
more time dealing with people’s day to day issues than their spiritual needs. Still,
what I wouldn’t give for an actual doctor who specializes in mental illness.

“I will
put that out as a possibility,” replied the major.

“See my
surfboard?” interrupted Mary.

She had
retrieved the useless toy and was carrying it toward the Pave Hawk.

“Surfboard!”
shrieked Asher.

He pried
himself free of Briana’s arms, darted past the twins, and slammed into his
sister. She promptly dropped the surfboard, and Asher jumped on top of it,
making race car noises.

“Asher!”
she exclaimed. “That was rude, and you know it’s not something you drive.”

“Is
too!”

“Is
not!”

“Is
too!”

“Not!”
she yelled. “Not! Not! Not!”

“Yes!
Yes! Yes!”

“No! No!
No!”

“Yes!
Yes! Yes!”

“No! No!
No!”

*
* *

“You all
have fun in Hawaii?” asked Xavier.

“It was
great,” answered Mary. “We got to swim and play and build sandcastles. Those
were for Asher, not me.”

“Of
course they were.”

“Are you
implying something?” she demanded.

“Me,
never.”

“Hey!
Don’t make me come up there and hit you in the head.”

“Mary,
no knocking the pilot senseless.” Briana reconnected Asher’s safety belt. “And
you, stop undoing it.”

“I wanna
see the window.”

My wife
pushed his tiny hands down. “It’s want to, not wanna, and you have to stay in
your seat. If Xavier turns suddenly you could go flying and splat against the
wall. Do you want to hit your head? Maybe get a cut and have to get stitches?
Those are just like getting shots from the doctor, lots and lots of shots.”

Asher’s
face went pale, and he shook his head. “No shots!”

Vaccines
were never fun, and the boy was too young to understand that it hurts far less
when you stop struggling and simply relax.

“Then sit
still,” ordered Briana.

“Daddy!”

“Listen
to your mother. She’s the boss, and if you don’t, I’ll let your sister eat
you.”

“Chomp
chomp,” giggled Mary. She made a silly face.

“No
eating Asher,” stated the boy, smiling broadly, all thoughts of stitches and
painful injections gone.

“We did
have fun,” continued Mary, turning her attention back to Xavier. “There were a
bunch of boring meetings, but I got to skip most of them so they don’t count.
And my dad beat up a senator. We made the news there. They have television too.
Can you believe it? We need to get our own running.”

“A
senator? Jacob, that for real?”

I
sighed. “Yeah, he put his hands where they did not belong.”

“It’s
because he’s a pervert and I’m so super beautiful.” Mary sounded strangely
satisfied.

“This
was at a dinner party too,” I added, “a large one. He walked by and… Let’s say
that I lost my temper, a little.”

Briana
snorted. “It was more than a little, not that I’m saying he didn’t deserve
having the teeth knocked out.”

“Is this
something we should be talking about?” asked Xavier. He lifted the helicopter
higher as we approached the Black Hills. “Or do I need to keep quiet?”

“Mary
was telling the truth about us making the news, and there was no shortage of
witnesses. No reason to try to hide it.”

“As if
you could,” said Briana. “The way Martin was carrying on in Hawaii, you know
he’s going to be telling everyone when he gets back to Yellowstone, and the
military guys are probably giving Marcus and his drivers a rundown as we speak.
I’ll be spending the next few days just straightening the story out.”

Briana
leaned in close to whisper to me. “Do you think smashing Senator Mons’s face is
going to help or hurt your reputation in the Black Hills?”

“With
our people, it’s going to help.”

“You
think so?”

“Don’t
you?”

*
* *

Michael
joined us for dinner that evening, accompanied by his uncle. The man did not
appear in any way reformed following his extended stint in the stockade –
Carter and Carlson remained there until Lizzy and Laura assumed temporary power
and cut the pair loose – but he was otherwise behaving himself. Carter also
adored Mary, in large part because she was an active member of the militia
which made her a more than acceptable girlfriend for his nephew.

“We get
to date date now,” she told him, breaking the news shortly after he entered the
house.

Briana
and I were preparing dinner while my daughter entertained the others. Asher was
bouncing around with a seashell in one hand – that would be broken soon enough
– and a plastic sword in the other. It was his third, maybe fourth adrenaline
rush of the day.

“That’s
great,” replied Michael, returning her hug and just as quickly letting go.

“Damn,
boy,” hooted Carter. “That’s not how you do it. Haven’t you learned anything
listening to my stories?”

“The
best part,” continued Mary, with a happy smile, “is that you don’t have to
worry about Dad getting mad and having Tara and Dale kill you anymore. It was
possible, you know, because of how much we were hanging out, but now that we
have his permission to be together there’s no problem.” Her expression hardened
slightly, and she pointed a single finger at his chest. “That might change if
you don’t behave yourself.”

Michael
glanced around nervously. The twins were not present, but that didn’t stop his
eyes from sweeping the room.

“I’m
teasing. Really. Dad was not going to have them kill you.”

“Jacob
wouldn’t get them to do it anyway,” commented Carter. “He’d do it himself. No
shirking with that one.”

Briana
rolled her eyes and gestured at the onions in a very poignant manner. I resumed
chopping and dicing.

“You
need to lighten up.” Mary suddenly planted both hands on Michael’s chest and
knocked him back into the sofa. “Sit down, and I’ll bring you a drink. What
does everyone want?”

“White
lightning for me,” said Carter.

“That
stuff is going to kill you. It tastes terrible too.”

“Girl,
it’s the only thing around here with a kick, and don’t you be telling Steph
that it’s no good. She might close down the stills.”

Horror
of horrors.

“Fine,
but you only get one.”

“And
three or four for the road, after we eat.” He rapped the floor with his cane.
“Maybe five if I eat all my vegetables.”

“Or six
if you eat a double serving of carrots,” she giggled.

“Only a
single shot,” cautioned Briana, as Mary joined us in the kitchen. “And there
won’t be any nightcaps.”

“He’s
old with nasty arthritis,” I countered. “Go ahead and give him a double. Splash
some extra in too, if you want.”

“Jacob!”

“Sweetie,
there are no rocket launchers in the house. We’re perfectly safe.”

Briana
let out an overly dramatic sigh before giving Mary a nod.

“Woo Hoo!
He’ll be happy. Oh, Michael and I are going out after dinner, but we’ll be back
before the sun comes up.”

“Not a
chance.” I looked over at Briana. “No overruling me either. Sorry, but you’ve
been up for next to forever already. It’s bed time for everyone after we eat
and clean up. We are back to normal work first thing in the morning.”

“Ah,
Dad. I’m perfectly fine, and it’s not like I’m old the way you two are. I don’t
need as much sleep.”

“What do
you mean old? I’m only four years older than you,” protested Briana.

“More
like four and a half,” she retorted.

“Oh, you
are so not going dancing or partying tonight.” My wife was in the shadowy zone
between amused and pissed. “Go hand off that drink and get back here so you can
mash the potatoes.”

“But,
who’s going to talk to the guests?”

“Carter
can play with Asher. Tell Michael to get his ass in here. If he’s going to be
hanging around all the time, he gets to contribute.”

“Dad, do
something.” She looked at me pleadingly.

“Mary, you
brought this one on yourself. Besides, I’m not about to get in the way of
Briana’s hormones.”

“Oh,”
she snarled, “you are so going to regret that.”

I should
know better than to make such a comment.