The Reverend seemed to sense what was behind his hesitation and gently patted his shoulder. “You can do this, Travis.”
Travis tried not to think of Katie up there on the wall ready to fight for their lives. He closed his eyes. Steadying his nerves with a silent prayer, he pressed the button and spoke.
“Good morning seems like the wrong thing to say,” his voice boomed over the speakers scattered over the fort. “I don’t think we’ve had a good morning for a damn long time. But…hell...good morning anyway.” Near the gate, Juan looked up from where he was busy doing the final tests on some of the traps. He slightly smiled at Travis’ words and turned back to what he was doing. His long hair was pinned up on his head and he was wearing a cowboy hat. Nearby stood one of the bulldozers rigged up to fight the zombies. Spray painted along its side were the words “La Loca.”
“But if we have to fight for our lives, I guess we couldn’t ask for a prettier morning.”
Travis’ voice floated through the air as Lenore loaded up the giant crossbow perched high on the wall. She glanced toward the battered speaker near her and had to agree. The sky was brilliant this morning with the sun shining through beautiful white clouds sliding over the endless Texan sky.
“So this is it. What we all feared. But we can do this. We can fight and win. No matter how afraid you are, remember that we’re in this together.”
Old Man Watson in his wheelchair watched out a window as several men loaded up a catapult on the wall beneath it. Chetan, the Indian from Austin, was helping Jimmy Ray, a good ol’ boy from East Texas and Jerome from Houston, lift the heavy pieces of junk onto the catapult. The shrapnel was going to be used against the zombies. The old man smiled with satisfaction and patted the rifle on his lap.
“I’m not much of a speaker, so I have no idea what to say except y’all are my family. I’m glad to know ya and I’m glad to stand with you today. And now a word from the Reverend.”
Katie pulled on her gloves and smiled as she listened to her husband’s words echoing around her. Looking up, she could see over the wide expanse in front of the hotel. The smell of decay was now floating on the wind and she pulled her kerchief over her nose. She could see the dark wave of the undead in the distance just beyond the fire line. It was such a beautiful day the sight of the zombies was like a sacrilege against nature. With a deep breath, she began to load up the giant crossbow.
There was the sound of the microphone being jostled as it was handed off and Katarina smiled slightly. She was perched on one of the highest points of the fort. Her sniper rifle rested comfortably in her arms as she tilted her head and closed one eye. Abruptly the undead filled her vision and she drew in a deep breath. The first zombie to swim into view was vile beyond belief. A large woman, half eaten, her womb torn open to reveal the fetus inside, its small limbs moving, came into sharp view. Katarina closed her eyes, steadied herself, then reopened her eyes and fired. The dead mother jerked once, then stumbled on, oblivious that the tiny form inside of her had stopped moving.
“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it,” the Reverend’s voice boomed with smoothness and gentleness that Travis’ did not have. It was like balm on the fevered minds of the inhabitants in the fort.
Kevin looked down at the map held under heavy plastic on the table before him and took a deep breath. Nerit stood next to him, her face calm as she gazed out toward the oncoming horde.
“Difficult words to embrace on a day such as this, but we must do just that. For this is the day the Lord has made for us to fight for our lives and the lives of those we love. This is our home, our fort, our safe haven. It has been called many things: the Fort, Eden, Sparta and a slew of other names. But it remains simply one thing to all of us: home. Our home. And, now, we face our greatest challenge as a family.”
Kevin looked over at Nerit and she smiled slightly at him. He moved several red markers along the map as another explosion by Rune’s grenades boomed in the distance.
“We have lost many friends, many family members, during this long plague of the dead. We have seen many atrocities at the hands of these creatures. Our beloved have fallen to their ranks and in some cases, joined their ranks.”
Margie leaned against her new grandmother listening to the Reverend’s voice as she played idly with the dry tangled hair of her doll. Her brother and sister weren’t paying attention, but she understood the Reverend’s words. She thought of her old Mommy and Daddy and of the nice lady with the black hair who had saved them. Kissing her doll, she pulled it close to her and hugged it like her grandmother was hugging her.
“But we must resolve ourselves to be strong. To stand firm. To not waver in the face of evil. It may wear the face of humanity, but it is corruption. We must remember this. They were once alive. They were us. But now, they are the undead. The enemy of life. Be strong and know that the battle you fight today is just and good in the sight of God.”
Linda pulled back on the lever of the catapult she was manning and it groaned as it prepared to fire its heavy junkyard load. Her expression was full of rage and determination as she watched the zombies stumbling after Rune’s motorcycle in the distance just beyond the high wall made of the town’s ruins.
“Today we fight for our lives. We fight for the lives of our family and friends. We fight for our future. We fight for life itself. And it is a good and right thing.”
*
Rune grinned as he brought the motorcycle to an abrupt halt. The zombies were stumbling along after him, moaning loudly, their stench overwhelming as they drew close. He was satisfied that he had drawn so many after his bike. In fact, it looked like most of the horde coming up the hill had altered direction to skim along the outer wall in the pursuit of him. The big bike rumbled between his legs as he drew another grenade and whistled loudly at the zombies.
Aggravated by the nearness of him, the zombies thrust out their decayed hands and let out moans of desperate hunger. “Yep, damn good day to die,” he said with a grin, and lobbed another grenade into the horde.
He gunned the bike and rode off in front of the mob. The grenade went off with a resounding explosion and peppered him with body parts.
Grinning, he lured the zombies on.
*
“Damn gremlins,” Calhoun muttered as he fumbled with the wires.