Anno Viventes Mortuae Ch. 03

Leer led them between vehicles to the shoulder of the highway. Warren waited and waved Maria and Draga by, opting to bring up the rear. At his suggestion they spaced out several yards.

"Don't want to be bunched up if we're set upon by more of Romeros Children. No room to fight, could end up drilling each other."

No one bothered questioning him about the colorful nickname.

They filed off into the pine woods, walking parallel to the road. The pines had been there a long time. When they were several yards in from the shoulder of the highway little direct sunlight reached the ground through the high branches, which made for very little undergrowth. The scents of pine and the mouldering needles underfoot replaced exhaust fumes and warming blacktop as the dominant smells. Birdcall and the occassional chatter of a squirrel drowned out the idling of engines.

Rather a pleasant afternoon, aside from some irritating attention from the first mosquitoes of the season.

The afternoon wore into evening. Leer called a halt just as the sun first touched the horizon, turning the sky a roiling orange. As it sank, the group made camp, such as it was, for the night.

It had occured to Draga while they marched that they were only carrying two sleeping bags amongst them. Given Warren and Leers apparent experience and confidence she hadn't bothered bringing it up. When Warren had laid them out, along with the foam mat he had brought, the explanation became apparent. Sort of.

Both sleeping bags were outdated military deals that zipped all the way around three sides. Warren simply unzipped both completely, spreading them flat, and laid one atop the other. He wedged the foam mat partially under one short end of them like a makeshift community pillow. Draga eyed it skeptically.

"Um. That's still a little small for four people, isn't it?" she inquired.

"Yes," Leer answered. He still stood, having not yet even removed his pack. He gave the impression of certain animals. The way he stood. The lack of expression on his face. Like something predatory, not straining to hear or see, but infinitely receptive and aware of what was there to be noticed. Somewhere between a wolf and a bird of prey.

He glanced over at her. "We'll take turns standing watch. Only three people sleeping at once."

"Oh. Right."

It seemed Warlock and the Iceman, as Maria often called them, had a well thought out reason for just about everything. They were bedding down at the foot of a particularly large boled pine so that on the off chance that several zombies, or normal humans for that matter, attacked them, they couldn't be completely surrounded. Like having ones back to a wall, which is better than having an enemy behind you.

They put their packs up near the head of their makeshift bed. Wouldn't want to trip over them in the dark. Dinner was cold MRE packets because a fire might draw attention. The rubbish from the meal was sealed in a ziploc bag. Warren made sure they all had their ponchos where they could retreive them quickly in the event of rain.

After the meal Maria sparked up a cigarette. Warren waited from the time she fished the lighter out of her pocket and smiled faintly when Leers eyes flitted back momentarily. He didn't say anything though. Hell, Warren thought, he's probably itching for a real ugly, up close and personal, life and death fight.

Not that he was a bloodthirsty psycho. He didn't look for fights. He took no pleasure in the act of killing. But the fighting... to say that Leer was good at fighting was like saying Hillary was good at climbing. It was his element. He fought, Warren smiled to himself at the oddly apt comparison, like Bob Ross painted. Content and seemingly without effort.

It turned out that the sleeping bag bed was still a bit small for three grown people, much as Draga had suspected it would be. She opted to sleep at one end. Not that she was terribly uncomfortable with sleeping between Maria and Warren, but they had a history of sleeping together anyway. She was a little releived that they had no intention of stripping down to better pool body heat. It wasn't that cold.

The horrors of the past week vied for attention in her unoccupied mind. She drew the earbuds of her ipod from a breast pocket and tried to clear her mind with the help of some music. Moments later, eyes closed, she was whispering along to 'Machines', by Ghost of Matsubara, without realizing it.

"...from this scientific creature

a billion blind biospheres beckoning

breath in

now scream

'cause anything anyone told you was only

a dream

and so it seems

we're not gonna need these machines..."

She hummed along to one more song before pausing the ipod. Warren was already asleep and Maria and Draga were out within a couple minutes.

Each of the four spent a couple hours on watch during the night. The temperature dipped down into the upper 40s, but they slept soundly, packed like sardines between their sleeping bags. Leer had set the alarm on his watch for 5 am and woke the others when it went off. Draga was already up, having been awakened earlier to serve the last watch.

After dispersing breifly to releive themselves, they took a few minutes to brush their teeth and repack. It was still dark, but Leer suggested it would be better to make some distance before the day heated up. They could always take a longer break for lunch when it was warmer. Leer split a Snickers bar with Draga, while Warren and Maria split a water bottle of instant coffee and a cigarette. Maria expressed a strong suspicion that the coffee was a mix of rust and rat shit.

With Leer walking point and Warren bringing up the rear again they resumed the trek. They followed a bit closer together than the day before until the sky began to lighten and they could see better.

The group stopped twice before lunch time. The first time was Leers call. He wanted to make sure everyone was drinking some water. The women took the opportunity to sit for a minute and rest their legs.

The second time Draga had spoken up. One of her heels was beginning to rub and she thought she might be developing a blister. They all took the opportunity to drink and releive themselves if necessary. Leer cut out a moleskin patch and made sure it felt better when Draga walked.

When they stopped for lunch Leer left them to check the road. A few minutes later he returned with news. It seemed the road was clear. Assumedly there had been an accident that caused the pile up back the way they'd come from. This far from it, either motorists had managed to turn around, or authorities had brought in trucks to tow abandoned vehicles away. One hoped the passengers of the vehicles still sitting in the pile up had left on foot and eventually found some safe refuge. None of the group considered this at any length. They knew very well that not everyone had made it out alive.

Breif discussion and a consensus determined that they would return to the road until evening. They marched along the shoulder of the road, sweating in the sun, but generally thankful for the level ground.

Leer led them back off into the woods as dusk came on. When they had laid out the bedding, Draga, Maria and Warren sat on it to eat. Leer squatted against a tree facing them. Draga found something called Wheat Snack Bread to be something of a challenge to eat without adding water. Warren noticed her expression and nodded.

"'S actually Dwarf Bread," he commented. "They use it as an emergency replacement for the ceramic plates in military bullet proof armor. Or to boost morale."

She smiled faintly, regarded him. "To boost morale?"

Warren nodded knowingly. "Men will march a long way to find something else to eat when theres only Dwarf Bread left."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Guys got a story for everything, eh?"

"Just about."

"And what about you?" Draga said looking up at Leer. "Feeling anti-social?"

Before Leer could say anything, Warren cut him off. "He's watching our backs. Most people can't maintain these little habits. He can't turn them off."

Draga slowly turned to look over her shoulder, miming wide eyed dread. She thought she heard Maria stifle a laugh. When she turned back she gave out a muffled cry of shock. She backpeddled with her feet, ruffling the bedding under her before she caught up with her eyes. Leer had somehow moved from the tree he had been squatting against to squat just in front of and between Draga and Warren. When she had turned back he had been leaning forward, his face less than a foot from hers.

"What the-" she began, looking angry. Her expression changed a little and she finished with, "How the fuck?"

Now Maria was definitely trying to stifle laughter.

Leer gave Draga an innocent, 'who, me?' look. "Just being sociable."

"Jee, thanks." she muttered sarcastically. She rubbed at a spot on her chest just below her throat where the MP5 had thumped her when she jolted backward.

Leer walked back and leaned against the tree.

"If we make good time we should get into Beaulaville by noon tomorrow. We'll stop at the first place that might have bottled water. Rather not trust the tap water if we can help it."

"Told you he couldn't turn it off." Warren commented.

The night passed uneventfully. It was a bit warmer than the night before. The mosquitoes were worse. Warren had last watch and snorted to himself when, not long before Leers alarm went off, he happened to glance down. Leer lay on his back in the middle with Maria curled up against him on the left and Draga on the right, her face nestled against his chest.

When they had all risen and done with the morning rituals, breakfast was the same as the day before. They ate, drank and smoked as they trudged out to the road and began the last leg of the journey to Beulaville.

Draga could tell immediately that the muscles in her legs were not happy with the state of things. And her lower back felt like the muscles were on the edge of locking up even though her pack had grown even lighter as they emptied the water bladder. Once out on the shoulder of the highway she paused to stretch, whimpering a bit overdramatically.

'Oh, come on.' she thought pitifully. 'Even my ass is sore. Literally.'

Warren, bringing up the rear as usual, came up to ask if she was alright.

"Just," she groaned, bending forward, "a little sore."

"Alright, here, give me this. And that." Warren took her pack and submachine gun. "Now go ahead and stretch."

Maria spoke to Leer and they waited. Maria set her pack down and leaned her rifle against it to bend over and touch her toes while they waited. When Draga felt slightly more flexible she took her things back from Warren. He gave her a couple Ibuprofen he had dug out while waiting. She shrugged.

"Couldn't hurt." she downed them with a slug of water. "Giddy up." she mumbled

"You'll feel a little better when you've warmed your muscles back up." Warren assured her as they resumed walking.

"I hate rain." Maria complained as the dark clouds which had been gathering all morning loosed the first drops around ten.

It was miserable. The rain raised the humidity without seeming to lower the temperature at all. There was none of the breeze they had enjoyed the past couple of days. Thankfully Leer had stopped them half an hour before to put on ponchos.

"There better be a bar in this Beulaville." Maria continued darkly.

They slogged on.

It was raining harder than ever when they reached Beaulaville. Leer called back down the line, warning them to stay alert. He led up the middle of the road, stopping in front of the first building they came to; a Scotchman gas station/convenience store.

The lighted signs outside the station were all on, as well as the neon open sign in the window, but there wasn't a single vehicle either parked or at the pumps. As they came to the entrance and scanned through the windowed storefront, the room beyond appeared empty. It occured to Leer then that it might have been prudent to give the women a crash course on urban warfare and specifically on clearing rooms before they left his house. He decided they could remedy the oversight when they had cleared and secured the premises.

"Maria, check behind the counter, then the back door. Draga, check the restroom. I'll clear everything on the left. Masks and glasses." Leer spoke quickly over his shoulder. He didn't bother to check that Warren would know what to do.

With that Leer pulled the door wide and moved quickly inside. Maria hurriedly donned mask and glasses, then strode in behind him. She sidled around the front counter, her upper body tight, molding around her M-16. She kept her head tilted down close to the weapon so that if she had to fire suddenly she would hit whatever she was looking at. Having noticed the way Leer was moving, she kept her knees bent and took short, quick steps.

Draga followed, likewise mimicing Leer, though she felt a bit silly doing so. She gripped the handle of her MP-5 tightly, finger on the trigger. The restroom door was slightly ajar, and without thinking about it she kicked it inward with her right foot. Holding her breath she stepped back immediately, tensed in anticipation. The restroom was empty. Draga blinked, continued staring for a couple seconds, then looked around unsurely.

Meanwhile Leer had moved forward, checking down each of the aisles running to the far end of the room. Someone, or quite possibly multiple someones, had ransacked the place. There were bags of chips, cans and various other bits of junk food strewn on the floor. He could see a jumble of plastic cups on the floor in front of the slushy machine on the counter against the far wall. When he reached the last aisle, the right side of which was a line of cooler doors, he moved down it.

With the room cleared, he tested the door leading into the narrow room from which the cooler racks were stocked. The stockroom proved similarly inocuous and uninhabited. He had started back up the drink aisle when a shot sounded. Hurrying to rejoin the others, he found Maria leaning against the closed rear exit. Draga stood a few feet away, looking worried. When he glanced to where Warren stood near the front entrance Warren shrugged.

Maria cursed breifly in spanish, then smiled apologetically. "Just a fuckin' stray cat. Jump the shit out of me."

Leer stared for a moment, then nodded.

They locked both the front and back doors, then gathered around the checkout counter.

"I don't want to be out in the rain when it gets really dark out, but I don't like all the windows here either. We load up on water and grab a few things for supper tonight, then head back out. We'll take the first defensible house we come to." Leer kept the powow short.

What bottled water there was went into Leer and Dragas camelpaks. The canteens they filled with Gatorade for the time being. In preperation for the coming meal they took from the already depleted stock two half sized cans of Beanie Weenies, four little fruit cups, a sleeve of crackers, a can of spam and a box of Twinkies, which had, for some reason, not been pilfered. 'Official Junk Food of the Apokalypse,' Draga thought.

The food stowed, the four adjusted their poncho hoods and filed back out into the rain. They made their way diagonally across the street to the empty driveway of a large two story home. The house was covered in new siding, but old paint peeled from the cinderblock foundation. At the end of the driveway stood a seperate prefab aluminium outbuilding. Seeing the lock on the door, Leer didn't bother checking, but climbed a few steps onto the deck to check the house.

Finding the door unlocked Leer motioned Maria to follow him in. He handed her a little LED flashlight, then pulled on a headlamp. What little light had been filtering down through the rain clouds was fading. The house was bound to be dark.

"I go in, cut right, cover the room. You come in quick, check the left." He glanced back further to where Draga stood glancing around, trying to detect any movement in the shadows. "Grey, you follow me once we're inside. Don't shoot me in the back."

"Right." Draga replied, annoyed. A few days ago she had never handled a submachine gun in her life. Now she was feeling a twinge of indignation at the implication that she might inadvertantly shoot one of her traveling companions in the back.

The extraneous thoughts fled her mind as Leer swung the door wide, disappearing into the house. She took a deep breath, feeling the beginning of an adrenaline rush, not quite as potent as when they had entered the Scotchman. In the next moment Maria was inside, sweeping the beam of her flashlight in a shaky arch. Draga forced herself to breath again as she stepped across the threshold.

Her eyes were drawn to the light from Leers headlamp. She moved, her back against the wall, to stand near where the light played on Leers poncho. There was a click and the women squinted in the sudden light. Leer had closed his eyes before trying the lights. He blinked them slowly, scanning the room.

They appeared to be in a den. It was a large room. A small fireplace in the middle of the wall to their left. Sofa and heavy coffee table in the middle of the room. Full Bookshelf against the right wall. One doorway in each wall. No zombies.

And the lights worked.

Maria and Leer pocketed their lights. Leer turned to Draga and nodded to their right.

"Front porch through there. Don't shoot back into the house if you can help it. Go." That said, he brought his weapon up again and started off toward the doorway in the far wall.

Maria watched him a moment, then shook her head faintly. She lit a cigarette and took a deep pull before moving into the hallway to their left. A switch halfway down the hall lit a bare bulb overhead. She dropped the cigarette and ground it out underfoot, sure that with her luck the smoke would bother her eyes just as some driveling ghoul came staggering out of the woodwork. Her next step fell on a creaky board and she just managed to keep from squeezing tight the trigger of her rifle. Fighting back an urge to unload a few rounds into the floor, just to relieve tension, she moved quickly into the next room.

Draga, meanwhile, decided not to give her nerves any more opportunity to get worse. Both eyes open, vaguely using the sights of her weapon, she strode out into the front porch. She kept her face close to the weapon, moving her upper body as one unit to scan the room. Hanging plants and a couple old wooden rocking chairs layered with afgans. Before moving on she checked to make sure the door opening onto the front yard was locked.

That done, she moved slowly back into the house, entering the room Leer had been headed for moments ago. It turned out to be a kitchen. Bright flourescent lights now hummed faintly overhead. Draga groaned when she noticed the cupboards standing open, trash, canned food and cleaning products strewn across the beige linoleum floor. Maybe it was just a mess left by the previous inhabitants packing and leaving in a hurry. Maybe.

On the bright side, it looked like there might be a few things worth eating, once they had checked the place over thoroughly. A 'Leer thought.' Something she would have expected her father to point out.

Beyond the kitchen she found Leer. To the right was a small room housing a washing machine and dryer set as well as a linen closet. To the left, a bathroom. He had already checked both, and with a few silent gestures the two proceeded down a short hallway. A few feet further on the left was a carpeted stair leading up to the second story. Pausing at the foot of the stair they found no switch anywhere to illuminate the stairs. None dismayed, Leer withdrew his headlamp from a pocket and tightened the elastic band a bit before applying it to Dragas head and clicking it on. He mimed 'eyes open' and pointed up the stairs, then continued down the hall.