CHAPTER FOUR
“B.E.R.T. was a necessity for our continued survival, and every single participant was given a pardon—posthumous and otherwise—by the President of the United States on behalf of a grateful nation and world. To go back and argue they should face consequences, that this was inhumane, smacks of idiocy, Madame Senator. You lived through the period. You should know better. You should remember. Have you no shame, Madame? Have you no dignity? Using the sacrifices these individuals made in order to score political points, to attack all we’ve accomplished since? Life is not theater, Madame Senator. President of the Senate, ma’am, I’m not sure how they did this back in the day, but I make a motion to have the honorable senator from the state of Washington censured . . .”
—Minutes from the 124th Congress, March 10, 2056
That night’s student council meeting went about as well as it could have.
Which is to say, not very. When I’m the voice of reason in a discussion, you know we’re in trouble.
News had spread quickly about the sighting and a few of the elementary school girls were excited. They thought we were being rescued at long last. None of the high school girls wanted to break the news to them before we had a council meeting, so we didn’t say anything other than there were people still alive on the other side of the river. The middle schoolers were a little more reserved at the idea. The elementary girls, after seeing how the middle schoolers were reacting, changed their mind. That shut down the rescue talk real quick.
Of course, then Sister Ann had to explain what some of the other terms meant. There aren’t enough words in the world to express just how grateful I was that it was her and not me. She was born to lead and teach.
Me? Not so much.
“Do we barricade?” Emily asked once the rest of the room settled down a little. She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked around, nervous. “Can we barricade the road? I mean, I could design one with the cars . . .”
“Can we destroy the bridge over the creek?” Lucia looked at Emily. She was trying to play it cool but I could see she was just as terrified as the younger girls. Unlike anyone else, she’d seen the sign. Granted, there hadn’t been mounted heads or skulls scattered around it, but the neat, precise writing had unnerved her.
“Maybe? I don’t know. It was built to handle flooding from Dunlap Creek, though, so not without a lot of explosives.”
“We’re not allowed to play with those anymore,” Fiona said in a wistful tone. Finlay looked over at Sister Ann meaningfully but remained silent.
“Crap.” Lucia crossed her arms and frowned. Secretly, I think she wanted to blow something up as badly as the twins did.
“I’ll go and meet with them at the time they want,” Sister Ann said in a soothing tone. She looked at the other girls gathered around the table. It was times like this I was glad there was a student council and nobody had decided to put me in charge. Still, Sister Ann’s idea was pretty stupid, if anyone had bothered to ask me.
“That’s a bad idea,” I warned Sister Ann anyway. The other girls all nodded in agreement. For once they weren’t looking at me funny. “What if they just start shooting at you?”
“Then I die, and the council is in charge of the school,” Sister Ann replied calmly. She wasn’t kidding, either. I had to hand it to her. A lot of people could talk the talk, but Sister Ann walked the walk. “But I don’t think they’re going to shoot. No, I think they want to negotiate. Next time you’re out on patrol, don’t wear the school’s uniform. We’ll get down into the donations closet. Then you can go through and find some donations with old hunter’s pants or something. After it’s cleared, I mean.”
“I should have been doing that from the start,” I berated myself. “Stupid.”
“No, just shortsighted of me,” Sister Ann corrected. “We didn’t count on survivors coming around and making demands. I thought . . . It doesn’t matter. I should have, though. I’ll meet with him, and you’ll be my visible second. Let them get an eyeful of Baby. Ulla will remain up at the school on overwatch in case a shambler shows up. We have three other girls nearby with rifles standing in partial cover behind some trees in case they start shooting at us—which, I will reiterate, is not going to happen.”
“Why?”
“We’re no good to them dead,” Sister Ann said as her eyes drifted around the table. It took me a moment to get where she was going with that. When I arrived, it was not a pleasant image.
“Oh.”
“So what I want you to do, Maddie, is get there just after sunrise on Friday,” she continued after a moment. “Only you. Set up in that old hunter’s blind you found and see if this so-called King Dale has anybody up there watching for us to arrive. They’ll probably get there a few hours before the scheduled meet. Once I arrive, give it a few minutes before you come out and stand with me. Let them know we’re always watching, always ready.”
“That’s why you want me getting there so far in advance,” I murmured. “That’s smart.”
“Be prepared,” she reminded me. “I have no idea how our meeting with the self-proclaimed Appalachia Rex is going to go.”
Oh, I would be prepared, all right. We all would be.
The predawn morning of the meet was cooler than it had been in months. With the loss of power, heat and humidity quickly became things of the devil at St. Dominic’s. In summer, the entire Alleghany Highlands felt like a swamp, but it was finally beginning to cool off. The only saving grace was that the bunkers were solid concrete, so it wasn’t nearly as bad. Autumn up here was admittedly kind of nice. The winter promised to suck, though, if it was anything like the year before.
Right now, though, the weather was being agreeable. It was so nice the gnats weren’t even out yet. Maybe the day would be a good one after all.
Perched in the hunter’s blind high above the ground, I watched as the swollen Jackson River moved sluggishly along. It was still mud-colored from the rain and flooding. To be fair, the entire river had remained the same ugly brown since the dam failed and, from what Sister Ann had suggested, it would probably be a few years until it all settled down.
Sighing, I adjusted Baby’s sling and looked out across the river. The damn thing was annoying me again. Either I was going to develop one amazing callus on my shoulder or replace the sling with another—if I could find one. Across the way I could see the mostly destroyed hotel and a few cars that hadn’t been tossed away during the flood. The paper mill to my left was a burnt, ruined mess. There was a little bit of standing water in the streets. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single shambler to be seen. With all that water in the streets, I expected to see one or two. It made me wonder where they’d all gone.
I knew they were still out there. Sometimes late at night, when I couldn’t sleep and slipped up to the top of the cafeteria, I’d sit with Rohena and we’d listen to their howls. From the valleys below our mountain we could hear their strange and haunting cries. It was a terrible, unearthly sound that echoed across the night sky, and sounded both far away and terrifyingly close.
I never spoke while up on the rooftop. There was no need. Rohena typically made up for my lack of conversation by chattering nonstop.
I leaned back against the tree and sighed. So far, our so-called King Dale was a no-show. Another hour passed by, then four, and six. Still no signs of a shambler—or any sign of someone coming in early to recon us. The possibility of someone beating me there was slim, but still there. Since we had zero information on him, we didn’t even know from what direction he’d come from. Sister Ann suggested our intrepid new ruler was probably out of Clifton Forge, the next town over.
Still nobody. I grumbled silently and shifted the damned sling again. I’d expected some sort of scout to show up and check things out. “Disappointed” was a word I wouldn’t quite use, but it was a close thing.
The day grew a little warmer. The sun was still trapped behind the low-lying clouds but I could faintly see it through them. A faint rainbow made a circle around where it should have been showing through. I took this as another positive sign. I could faintly smell honeysuckle in the air. Somewhere nearby, a cardinal started chirping incessantly. Then another answered. The river flowed on and I took another deep, calming breath.
For the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of peace enveloped me.
It ended ten minutes later when the so-called King of Appalachia rolled up in what looked like a freaking tank.
Okay, I knew it wasn’t a tank. It just looked like one. I’d seen SWAT vehicles before back home in Cali, both in person and on the news. This was just like them, but kinda cooler. It rode higher off the ground, and even had a spot where someone could stand up on the top. Sister Ann later told me it was a turret mount. Whatever it was, it was pretty freaking cool. I clicked my walkie-talkie three times, like Sister Ann had told me to when King Dale arrived.
Amusing side note: I could have wiped him and his entire crew out when they climbed out of the large, armored vehicle before they’d even know I was there. He’d sent no advance scouts, nothing. It would have been a slaughter. Sister Ann gave me explicit instructions to simply observe until she arrived, so observe I did. Besides, while I had no problem shooting shamblers, I was less thrilled about the idea of shooting a real person. Well, mostly. If they did anything to hurt any of the girls, for example, then it would be game on.
Thanks to a slight bend in the road and a large pile of debris, the men had no idea what was about to hit them. About twenty minutes after they’d arrived, Sister Ann walked around the rubble with all of the student council—minus Emily, who’d remained back at campus with Ulla and the younger girls—flanking her, each girl armed and appearing ready for action. I knew otherwise, but the men across the river didn’t. Plus, Sister Ann’s arrival created a visible stir across the river.
She’d ditched the whole stole-and-penguin outfit when the Fall began in favor of something a little more economical and sensible. Jeans, T-shirt, and comfortable hiking boots made up her normal everyday wear. Now, however, she’d donned her full habit and even wore her veil, which was rare indeed. Only during Mass did any of the school’s nuns wear the stiff headpieces that hid their hair. It was psychological warfare, she’d told me the night before. It was meant to send a message.
The so-called King of Appalachia stood on the far banks of the Jackson River, surrounded by his men. The river wasn’t too wide here but it was definitely deep. Thanks to the dam failing a few months back, it was also nearly impassible. The three bridges that ran over it had all been destroyed when the massive wall of water had demolished just about everything in its path. Hooray for natural disasters.
Or would this one be considered man-made? I always forget the difference. Either way, it was handy.
We’d thought it was a bad thing at first because all the large stores were on the other side of the river, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Not only did the zombies get swept downriver when they tried to cross, it had also managed to stop anyone else from coming to us. Other than a small community of houses near the top of the hill by the school and the Moose Lodge, our little valley and mountaintop were empty.
This was the first time I’d really gotten to get a good look at the guy Sister Ann had dubbed “Appalachia Rex.” Thanks to the school’s graduation requirement of knowing Latin, I understood what it meant. It was the same as what the King of Appalachia called himself, but since we were dealing with hillbillies he’d probably think Sister Ann was insulting him.
King Dale didn’t look like a normal hick, though. At least, he didn’t dress like one. He was tall, well-built, and actually wore what appeared to be a new sports coat with really nice jeans. Great shoes, too. I didn’t think anyone from around here had that fashion sense. He also sported a giant blond beard, but since they weren’t really making razors anymore I cut him some slack. I mean, I hadn’t shaved my legs in months.
The girls following Sister Ann must have been a very weird sight to the men. Armed girls on a river with a nun, all in full uniforms. I know what men think whenever they see a Catholic schoolgirl. We’d heard enough during trips into town before the Fall. Or maybe the fact we were better armed than his group made us even more appealing, I don’t know for certain. What I did understand, thanks to Sister Ann’s “briefing” beforehand (it’s what she called it), was this was the beginning of a negotiation process. The so-called king believed he was dealing from a position of power.
“Let him think this,” Sister Ann had told me before I started the long hike down. Despite the early hour she had already been up and preparing for the day. Sometimes I wondered if she ever slept. “If he thinks he’s in control, he’ll underestimate us. If they get there early, we’ll have a good measure of the man, and how those who might follow him train. And, more importantly, how dedicated they are.”
Sister Ann was, and will always remain, a marine trapped in a nun’s habit.
After introductions were made, the negotiations did not start smoothly.
“Why do you keep calling me Rex, woman?” he shouted at her. I’d climbed down from the blind during this, which caused more than a few of them to swear and point. They knew I could have shot every single one of them, and it terrified the men. King Dale didn’t seem too impressed, though. The men around him were armed but he wasn’t. Nobody was pointing their weapons at us, either, and all of them seemed to be showing good trigger discipline from what I could see. Fortunately. “My name is King Dale, and I am the ruler of Appalachia!”
“Nice to meet you, Dale,” Sister Ann replied back as she raised her megaphone. The megaphone had been in the gym, and it even had working batteries still. She’d known precisely where to find it. “You stay on your side of the river now, you hear?”
“With all due respect, ma’am, y’all are in my domain, and I have right to rule,” Dale yelled back. “We’re gonna cross that river, and y’all need to respect that!”
“And we reserve the right to refuse, since we still live in the United States, my son,” Sister Ann replied in a polite tone. It was well amplified by the megaphone. I kept an eye out for any signs of a shambler, but the coast appeared cleared. Vaguely I noticed a few of his men were keeping an eye out as well. So they weren’t complete idiots. Good to know. The man we’d spotted initially earlier in the week was with King Dale, standing just to his left. I pegged him as either a bodyguard or someone high up in his chain of command. I’d make certain to let Sister Ann know once we were back up on campus. The microphone squealed. The nun gave it a solid smack before continuing. “Since we’re not a confederate state in some medieval German principality, you cannot be a king in a republic guided by a legal constitution. Now please go home and leave us alone.”
Dale was flustered. I was just confused. Sister Ann was really smart and sometimes pulled out historical references that had even left the monsignor of our school dazed. Her ability to defuse a situation by simply being the biggest nerd in the room was why the girls in her cottage were always on their best behavior. I couldn’t even remember when the last real fight broke out in there. She had a way of just keeping the peace with only a look.
“You don’t understand what I’m saying here, Sister!” Dale shouted.
“No, I understand you perfectly,” Sister Ann replied. The megaphone squealed again from feedback and she smacked it a second time. It would behave, or it would learn. “You think that because nobody’s heard from the government in a year means you get to go and form a new government however you like. This great nation of ours does not work this way, Dale. Have you heard the news? The group known as Wolf Squadron is clearing boats at sea right now. There are reports of people are being saved. We have a chance to do what is right. We still have a functional Constitution. This is still the Commonwealth of Virginia. You think our government is going to be okay with some tin-pot dictator less than four hours from our nation’s capitol?”
“Bullshit!” he practically screamed. “The government died the day they released this poison onto the world! It’s the government’s fault everyone is dead!”
“Language, young man.” Sister Ann frowned. I was a little confused. I didn’t understand what he meant when he said the government released the flu. Though it was a long six months ago, that wasn’t how I remembered it all going down. I specifically remember the words “Pacific Flu” being thrown around, and even rumors that it had been released by some random nutjob.
“Sorry for cussin’!” Dale looked down and kicked a stone into the swollen waters of the Jackson River. It left a few ripples that rapidly disappeared. His men milled around, looking at the girls. They didn’t appear too comfortable. Either they had been hit by more shamblers than we had and were nervous, or they really didn’t want to be here. “Sister, I have the canned goods, supplies, a tank, weapons, and manpower! What have you got?”
“Apparently the correct side of the river,” she called back. Her tone remained merry. “And that is not a tank, young man, but the BearCat G3 SWAT armored vehicle you clearly stole from the Alleghany County Sheriff’s Department, a highly customized one based off the Lenco BearCat model. It’s supposed to be used for medical evacuations in a live-fire engagement area. BearCat, young man. Learn your equipment and do better research.”
“Fine! My BearCat!”
“The sheriff’s, actually. Not yours. Sir . . . go back to your home. Take care of one another. Leave us alone. Please. Our school is in the Commonwealth of Virginia still, which is a part of the United States of America and under the guidance of the Constitution. It will not, nor never will be, part of your so-called kingdom. Nothing you say will change that, Appalachia Rex.”
“God damn it, quit calling me that!”
“Young man!” Sister Ann’s voice was stern this time. Even I winced, because you knew you were in deep shit when Sister Ann used that tone. I heard one of the girls nearby—Kayla, I think—suck in her breath sharply and hiss “Oooh shit, he done fucked up now” to another.
Sister Ann continued, and boy was she hot. “You will not take the Lord’s name in vain! He did not die for your sins to have you run His name through mud and filth in such a foul and disrespectful manner! This will be the last time I warn you. Do you understand me?”
The self-proclaimed King of Appalachia nodded, albeit reluctantly. This did not appease Sister Ann, however. We all knew it wouldn’t, but it was pretty funny to see someone else suffer for a change. I would have been laughing my ass off except I knew better. The last thing I wanted now was for her basilisk gaze to turn on me.
“No, I can’t hear you,” she told him. “What do you say?”
“I promise!” he shouted.
“You promise what?”
Oh man, she is not letting him off easy, I thought and watched him struggle for words. Sister Ann never punished us, no. She gave us consequences that, in turn, were supposed to teach us. What we privately called it, though, was different.
King Dale was getting a lesson today. One all of us up on the hill had learned from day one: do not piss off a nun.
“I promise to not take the Lord’s name in vain again!”
“Very good.” She smiled, tone sweet and angelic once more. “Have a good afternoon, Appalachia Rex.”
“Confound it, woman!”
Well, at least he was watching his language finally. St. Dominic’s existed for a reason and had a pretty good track record, all things considered. One thing the school was noted for was instilling proper manners while still operating as a school. St. Dominic’s didn’t just teach us how to be independent women, but ladies as well.
Well-armed and self-sufficient ladies, that is. Nowhere in the Bible did it say meek meant unarmed.
She clicked off the megaphone and lowered it from her face. Turning away from the river, Sister Ann motioned for me to come closer. Once I was near, she started to speak in a low voice.
“They’re going to find a way across that river eventually,” Sister Ann said, eyeing the heavily modified AR-15 in my hands. She sighed and crossed herself before continuing, “Probably within a week or two. I wouldn’t ask you to take a human life, Madison, but if it comes down to it, we can’t let those vile creatures on the campus. We have young girls to protect and I can only imagine what he thinks he’s going to find if he makes it onto campus. Even if he means well, there might be men in his group who have ulterior motives involving high school girls in uniforms.”
“I have no problem with shooting that type of guy, Sister Ann,” I told her. “I was the one who shot Sister Margaret when she turned into a shambler, remember?”
“I didn’t forget, Maddie.” Sister Ann offered me a reassuring smile. “But there is a cost to the soul when taking a life. I’m not sure if there’s one for shooting the shamblers, but humans? Definitely a dark stain.”
“No offense, Sister, but I’ll let God judge me when I go to heaven,” I told her, trying to sound casual about it all. Her words, though, were making me feel a little twitchy. I hated feeling like that. She had the uncanny ability to shift things around in my head. “The school’s given me the ability to protect others in a way nobody ever protected me. I intend to use it.”
Sister Ann rested a hand on my shoulder. Despite the dark green coat I could still feel the warmth and concern in the gesture. She bowed her head.
“Just . . . don’t come to enjoy it,” she told me. “It’s addictive and becomes easier if you let it. I saw it many times in the past, in both Iraq and Afghanistan. You start seeing your fellow humans as nothing more than targets, and you lose a large part of yourself when that happens.”
“Shamblers are one thing, Sister,” I admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. Once again Sister Ann saw through my mask and pointed out what I was truly feeling. I had been looking forward to hurting the men across the river. They probably wanted to do horrible things to the girls who were closer to me than my own family. I’d heard stories from other survivors via the shortwave radio. They alluded to a lot of abuse suffered before they were rescued. I wasn’t about to let that happen, not to anyone at the school. It didn’t matter if they were my worst enemy. They had a soul, and everything I’d learned while at St. Dominic’s told me the soul was most precious indeed—including my own. “I know it’ll be rough, ma’am. I’ll be aiming at their legs to start with, if that helps ease the conscience a little.”
“God always was a little fuzzy about kneecaps, wasn’t He?” she asked, her expression bemused.