Zed re evolution book tw.., p.1
Zed Re-Evolution: Book Two of The Zed Files Trilogy, page 1
Zed Re-Evolution
Book Two of The Zed Files Trilogy
by
David Andrew Wright
Copyright ©2013 by David Andrew Wright
This book is dedicated to my wife, Sarah.
Chapter 1: Red, White and Blue
“It’s just like wake’n up on another planet,” Cody muttered as he looked out the camper’s tiny window. He couldn’t help but smile as he sipped at the instant coffee. His small Airstream pull-behind sat on the north edge of the formerly vacant strip of prairie. To his south, as far as he could see, countless other campers, RV’s, tents, yurts, shacks and lean-to’s filled the flat field all the way down to the bend in the interstate. Cody removed the cigarette from his lips and ashed into an empty beer can. “Looks like some kinda Colorado hippie love-in.”
His hand roamed down to scratch in the great hairy patch above his underwear band as he arched forward in a full body yawn. Behind him, Arlene, still curled in the tiny bed that they shared, also began a slow stretch towards consciousness. Her delicate pale feet poked out from beneath the blankets and flexed to a point. Cody watched her out of the corner of his eye while finishing off his itch. He studied her high arches and red toenail polish. The bright red clashed with the blue veins and thinning skin of late middle age. The onset of frailty. But certainly not the onset of decline. Twenty years his senior, she was still more attractive than most of the women his age.
He lit another cigarette and adjusted his cowboy hat further back on his head. He felt slightly ridiculous standing there in boots, white underwear, t-shirt and cowboy hat. But it felt comfortable.
And she used to like it.
He moved a half step and entered the tiny kitchen area of the camper and poured another cup of coffee. It seemed extravagant to have coffee every day. And cigarettes. But it was the way of things to come in the wake of the The Recovery. Formerly scant resources were now plentiful and endless for the few million people who remained in North America. Cody pulled a sip off of his coffee before washing out a cup for Arlene and filling it.
“It’s just like waking up in heaven,” she mumbled dreamily, her head still beneath the pillow. “Smell of hot coffee, warm bed,” she yawned.
“Good company,” Cody added. The silence that followed hurt his feelings but he let it slide off him as he put her coffee down on the counter.
Arlene sat up in the camper bed and rubbed her eyes. Tussled gray strands coiled up and out of the remains of a blonde salon dye job from many moons ago. Her fingernails were painted to match her toes but she said they looked like crap. Cody couldn’t tell the difference as he moved his focus to the rest of her naked torso. Small tits. Flat stomach. A big stretch followed by a rub and a twist. He watched the tiny hairs on her legs glistening in the dull light of early morning. He was always up before she was. Always being the short few months they had been together.
She removed her hands from her eyes and surveyed her surroundings with the same unimpressed, flat expression that had settled upon her weeks ago. Dreaming heaven defeated in the reality of the material world. Cody tried to smile as she took her coffee cup but morning was becoming more ritual than interaction. She pulled the blanket up around her followed by her knees. She sat with both hands around the warm cup and let her dreams slide away from her like sand from an opening hand.
Cody rolled the butt of the cigarette between his thumb and ring finger. He shuffled his feet slightly. There was no room to move in the tiny camper. And little room to move outside it either. Wyoming had gone from the least populated state to the most in only a matter of days. An out of state antelope tag hung from the small bulletin board over the sink. He’d filled it many times over but never had to bother with filling out the tag. It was now both a historical document from an agency and a time that no longer existed as well as a sacred parchment, the lucky draw that had landed him in Wyoming when all hell broke loose. He touched the corner of it and said a silent thank you before taking another drag on his cigarette.
“What are your plans for the day?” Arlene asked from her perch on the bed.
Cody shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Dunno. Ain’t on road block duty until Thursday. Got supplies yesterday. Probably go for a walk around. See what the news is. Do a little trade’n.”
Arlene nodded and sipped but remained silent. Cody continued looking out the window as he spoke. “Worked every day of my life that I can remember. Out on the farm in the Midwest grow’n up, first money job at sixteen pump’n gas. I’ve always worked. Been nice have’n a break but have’n nothing to do. It just…”
“Doesn’t feel right anymore,” Arlene finished for him. “I used to broker million dollar deals. I drove a BMW.” Cody continued staring out the window and rolled his eyes. “I had a life. Manicures, pedicures, massages. Vacations in Maui and Mexico and Madrid. I don’t even know if those places still exist.”
Cody craned his neck to look further up field at the planes parked at the end of the interstate. 747’s, 757’s, Piper Cubs, F-15’s, C-130’s, Blackhawks and Apaches. Almost every kind of aircraft ever made was sitting parked either on the interstate or beside it. Most still sat in the exact spot where they had landed several months ago. Cody squinted to try and focus on the activity in the distance. He could just make out the tiny silhouettes of people moving around.
A loud sharp knock landed on the metal camper door three times followed by the voice of Albert. “Goot morning, comrade. Rise and shine my friend. Sleep when you are dead.”
“Hang on, hang on. Out in two shakes,” Cody hollered back. He looked over to say something to Arlene but she sat staring straight ahead lost in thought. Cody left anything he would say to silence and dressed quickly. Hand on the door of the camper, he turned again to say something but she still wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t care where he was going or when he’d be back. Not anymore. “Back after while,” he said finally. He shook his head and turned the handle of the camper door. She remained unmoved. He scooped up his Ruger Vaquero and stepped out into the cold Wyoming morning. “Albert, you mad Russian. How are ya?”
Albert responded in his standard way by snapping to attention and throwing his hand up to his head in a salute. “Comrade Cody. Good morning.” Albert was also in his early thirties but looked ten years younger than Cody. His boyish face framed in sandy blonde hair and steel gray eyes, he bordered on pretty save for the scar that ran from the corner of his right eye straight back over his ear. He smiled broadly and thrust his hand into Cody’s. “You are well this morning, yes?”
Cody smiled and offered Albert a cigarette. Albert patted his pocket. “Marlboro Red. It is a beautiful thing to have.”
“Red’s a good color for you Russians,” Cody said. “And I wish to hell you wouldn’t call me comrade for chrissake.”
Albert laughed without making any noise. “I am kidding with you. And we are not communist anymore. You speak like Reagan sometimes, my friend. It is the brave new world of the living. And besides, Armenia is democratic country for many years now. We are not communist. I have told you but you do not listen.”
As he spoke, Albert’s eyes drifted to the Vaquero in Cody’s left hand. He tried not to look at it for too long but the envy was obvious on his face. Cody pretended not to notice but moved the big revolver to where Albert could see it better. The bullets in the leather loops of the cross draw holster smiled as Cody smiled. After a long pause, Cody uncoiled the cartridge belt and hooked it around his waist. “Didya getya a gat yet Albert?”
Albert blushed slightly at having been caught. “No gat yet. I am still looking. It seems that everyone but me has many guns. I have the rifle you gave me but I still have no pistol.”
Cody nodded towards the white Chevy truck parked by the camper. “Lemme show ya somethin,” Cody said. He suppressed the laugh he carried inside. Cody popped open the passenger door of the truck and reached under the seat. From far back behind, Cody produced an oil- stained cardboard box. Several smaller boxes of familiar shape and size rested on top of the bigger one.
Albert leaned forward past Cody’s shoulder to look. “No. You have more gun? Again? Where did you get this one?”
Cody watched Albert out of the corner of his eye as he opened the box. Inside lay a CZ 40 with two magazines. A nylon shoulder holster was wadded up next to it as well as a Kabar USMC knife. Albert’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. “This is beautiful. Where did you get this? How did you manage…?” The words left Albert and his hands came up to hold nothing in front of him. Cody handed him the CZ without saying anything. Albert carefully checked the chamber and upon discovering the gun was unloaded, began waving it around wildly and pointing it as he spoke. “This is amazing. This feels as a pistol should. It is heavy but not so heavy. The grip is good for the hand. How many shots does it hold?”
“Dunno,” Cody said as he took it away from Albert. Albert’s shoulders drooped slightly as Cody returned the gun to the box. He placed the boxes of ammunition on top of the pistol, holster and knife before shoving the whole parcel into Albert’s hands. “But I reckon you’ll find out and let me know.”
Albert held his breath and his mouth dropped open again. “No.” His head shook slowly back and forth. “You are playing mean joke on me. You are not giving me this gun. It is even nicer than your gun. This one holds many bullets and is modern. Yours is old west six shooter. You cannot give me this.”
Cody shrugged. “Give me one of those Marlboros in your pocket and we’ll call it even.”
“But where did you get this?” Albert shoved the entire pack into Cody’s hand. Cody took one cigarette and returned the pack.
“Some guy at the supply depot down from Casper. Said he’d trade me even for all the 30-06 ammo I had. I ain’t got an ought six no more so I figured why not. You been need’n a hog leg for a long time now. So you’re all set up my friend.”
Albert’s eyes were moist around the corners. “‘Hog leg.’ This I like.” His hand flew out and grabbed Cody’s and began pumping it up and down. “You are good friend to me. I do not know what to say.”
“Just don’t use it on me,” Cody laughed. “Hell, it’s good to have friends these days. You just never know. Maybe you can do me a favor sometime.”
“You can count on it.” Albert saluted again.
“Take it home and clean it good. Looks like it’s all gummed up. Needs a little solvent, a little oil.”
Albert was gone in a flash, the box tucked under his arm. As he passed the front of the camper, the small metal door opened and Arlene appeared dressed for the day and heading out. “Morning Albert,” she said with a nod.
“You,” Albert said loudly, “you are a lucky woman to have such a good man.”
Arlene nodded without answering or looking back at Cody. Cody looked at the snow under his boots before slowly shutting the truck door. “I’m going down to the community center, see what’s going on,” she said as she turned to walk away. Cody watched her leave without saying anything. He lit the Marlboro from Albert and inhaled slowly.
She was a lot more fun when the zombies were trying to kick down the door to her hotel room.
Off in the direction of the airplanes, the beeping of a heavy machine reversing could be heard. Something was going on up there. Cody decided to walk up and look instead of asking around. The light snow that had been falling turned heavy and the beeping in the distance disappeared slowly in the curtain of fat, wet flakes. Soon Cody could only hear the sounds of his own footsteps crunching beneath him as he walked along the abandoned interstate towards the men and machines.
By the side of the road, a newly erected billboard sat as a dark rectangle against the heavy spring squall. A picture of two hands shaking appeared beneath the words, “Rebuilding the Future Together”. A small New World Bank logo sat under it. Cody spat in the direction of the sign and sang quietly as he walked. “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…”
As he walked he thought about Arlene sitting there naked in the morning. She had gone so cold in the last few weeks. And her indifference to him had removed any appetite. “She’s lucky to have a guy like me,” he said to himself as he crunched forward. It had only been a few months since he was blasting his way down the hotel balcony, trying to get to the screaming coming from her room. “White hot and then out. Apparently.” His breath curled out in front of him in a small white cloud. Cody kicked at a can jutting up from the snow. His boot skipped off the top and the can remained frozen in place.
It would take a good twenty minutes to walk to the airplanes. Cody looked around. White enveloped him on all sides but there would be no getting lost as long as he stuck to the flat, sloping path of the interstate. The hotel where he had saved Arlene lay a mile or two behind him towards the hill that led to Cheyenne. Corporate offices for The Bank now. Commandeered by uniformed guys with submachine guns. They probably spent all of their damn time in the hotel bar.
That’s where he had seen her first. Travel restrictions and curfews had been put in place by the government after the rock hit. Then the infection started and the locals closed their borders. Cities became states; states became new countries. Most people staying at the hotel ended up spending their time in front of the bar’s big screen television, drinking what was left of the dwindling booze supply and speculating on the cause and the course.
He’d spotted Arlene sitting with a few other well-dressed women in the corner of the bar but never really considered trying to start up a conversation. She was too high maintenance. Too city. Not like the ranch girls he’d met or the girls back home. He always figured he’d be free to head back to Indiana when it all blew over. No sense in getting saddled with some squeamish rich girl from California or New York.
He’d thought it surely wouldn’t take long. The pictures on the television all looked like something made up. Even the roadblocks didn’t seem to accomplish anything. People continued to come and go. Supplies continued to roll into Laramie, even with the National Guard deployed to keep things shut down.
People from Colorado were beginning to walk north to escape the outbreaks in Fort Collins. He figured that’s where the zombies had come from that night. Just took a long walk north and ended up at the Super 7.
Cody pulled his coat collar a little tighter and continued shuffling forward in the snow. His hand rested over the hammer of his revolver to keep it dry. He could hear the beeping of the heavy machinery again. It sounded like the hotel fire alarm which had woken him that night. Half drunk, he had run out in the hallway dressed exactly as he had been this morning except for his cowboy hat. He’d grabbed the bolt action .243 and his suitcase thinking there might be an actual fire. But as soon as he ran out onto the balcony, he could see what the real problem was. Three of them. Moaning and smashing in the windows, banging on the doors. Two of them had lined up just as he pulled the trigger. Quigley would be proud.
The last one, a young guy in his twenties, watched his undead buddies drop, one straight back and the other bouncing his busted gourd on the metal railing. The young Zed, he almost looked like he was still alive as he had turned to stare at Cody. Mouth half open, twitching all over, covered in black goo from the dismissal of the first two. Staring with those solid gray eyeballs and a lower lip ripped down to his chin. Sumbitch had let loose with some kind of long, low howl and then started running at Cody. The Remington’s bolt was smooth and fast and Cody had put one through him at near point blank, the muzzle flash leaving the smell of singed hair and burned flesh hanging in the ringing silence that followed.
Cody looked around as he walked and smiled to nobody. That part had been great. All those damned fantasies as a kid watching the good guy save the girl in the movie. Hell, here he was in his thirties and he’d never come close before. Closest thing he’d ever done to something heroic was jump start a dead battery for that old lady at the grocery when he was seventeen. And she never even said thank you. Just put it in reverse as soon as the hood shut. “No good deed…” he muttered.
Cody snapped out of his daydream when he noticed the chain link fence across the road. Several men dressed in white carrying white submachine guns were supervising a group of men carrying more fence panels further out. One of the uniformed men approached with his hand held up. “Can’t let you through. This area is now restricted.”
“Restricted?” Cody said and looked around. “From what? You afraid the coyotes are gonna make off with one of them empty planes for Hawaii? Little Acme batman suit and roller skates?”
“This area is restricted,” the man persisted. He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. He was barely visible in the snow although he only stood twenty feet away. “I need you to turn around and leave the restricted area.” As he spoke, his hand dropped back down to the forearm of the little white gun.
“Yeah, fine,” Cody said and turned slowly. He looked as long as he could. Through the falling flakes, he could just make out the shape of a fuel truck by one of the planes. Forklifts were shuffling around behind that. Another man with a bigger rifle was standing on the wing of one of the 747’s. Cody squinted into the snow to better see what the man on the plane was doing. He paused for a moment and saw the man bring the rifle up to his shoulder and point it at him. Cody turned and walked away quickly. “No sense of humor at all. Rotten sumbitches.”
The snow was letting up and from the high bank of the interstate, Cody could see the entire town in front of him as well as all of the campers and trucks spread out to the horizon. “Getting too cramped out here.” He could see the roof of the fire station that was now serving as a community center. Arlene would be there drinking coffee and ‘networking’. A shiver rolled down his back and deep inside he just felt a dull sadness. “Cramped and unfriendly. And I’ve always said a man shouldn’t stay where he ain’t wanted.”
