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to destroy it.

21

Jessie

He’d been seeing it for over six months now but sometimes he still couldn’t believe how hard the country had been hit with the virus. He knew how it was spread, through the infected meats after an artificial shortage, but it still amazed him that the delivery system was so efficient. He was driving through the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho, in some of the most isolated places in the nation and even up here, the trucks had delivered their deadly cargo. In one day, in nearly every town in America, truckers had loaded their trailers and hit the road from thousands of different freight hubs. Even hundreds of miles from the nearest city, they had made their rounds delivering death. Pawns in a diabolical plan that relied on the working man to do his job, same as he did day in and day out. In every nation, the men and women who punched the clock and did what needed to be done, the salt of the earth, had been used to kill the world.

The snow was mostly gone from the roads, it was getting up in the low fifties already during the day, but it still covered the mountainsides. Especially where they didn’t get direct sunlight for hours each day. Jessie had a small horde running after him that he’d picked up in the last little town he’d driven through. Even way up in the mountains, the virus had killed everyone. He didn’t see any of them in the rear view when he cut off on the dirt forest service road, so he figured they would keep running straight. He glanced at the map, the next town was at least thirty miles. If there were any survivors there, they’d be having visitors by tomorrow. It was a small mob, they wouldn’t be much trouble. He probably should have taken the time to shoot all of them but he was in a hurry, he wanted to arrive at the next stop before dark.

He had another fifty miles to go before he reached the survivalist camp in a resort area near Lake Warm and played with his iPod as he whiled the miles away. He ran into occasional deep snow but the car plowed through it, and he had the winches in case he did get stuck. The trunk had a bevy of spare parts and an extensive collection of tools. As long as he didn’t blow the motor or tear out the tranny, he could fix almost anything on the side of the road. He tried not to think about it, he was a long, long way from anywhere if he had to walk, and it still got down in the twenties at night. Bob opened one sleepy eye at him when he started singing along to the music and kind of whined.

“It’s not that bad,” Jessie protested, but when he was belting one out, had the tune down to perfection, he turned the music off and kept singing. Geez. It sounded bad even to his ears. How could he be so on point when the music was blasting but not even in the same key when it wasn’t?

“Okay, okay,” he said and rubbed the dog’s head. “No karaoke in public. But you, my fine furry friend, don’t have a choice.”

He resumed singing along and the miles rolled by.

Once he got near the lake, he started following the directions he’d been given and found the compound up a narrow, winding road. It was a huge lodge, built with massive logs on a stone foundation. It was well crafted and truly beautiful, the parts he could see over the security wall. It was a lot newer than the lodge and had obviously been added as defenses against the zombies. It was made of logs and they were standing tall, side by side, like army forts he’d seen in old movies. A palisade defense against the Indians. Worked pretty good against zombies, too, he supposed. This far out, they wouldn’t be getting ten thousand at a time like they had in Lakota.

He pulled up to the wooden gate and waited. He’d seen a guard watch him approach from the catwalk behind the wall and he was pretty sure they’d heard him coming all the way up the hill. When he shut off the engine, the silence was loud. No birds. No generators from the lodge. No sounds anywhere. He sat there for a few minutes, starting to get annoyed. They’d known he was coming for weeks. They heard him for miles and they’d seen him from the top of the wall. What was taking them so long to open the gate? He went to beep the horn, but it was still broken. He fumed for a minute, considered cranking up some Pantera on the sound system, then closed his eyes. Maybe the guy with the key was sitting on the can or something. Maybe he was at dinner and the guard had to run and find him. Jessie calmed down and got out of the car to stretch his legs, leaving his rifle behind. His dad said these people had been acting paranoid on the ham. They were survivalists living way up in the mountains, waiting for doomsday before any of this happened, so they were already a little sketchy as far as he was concerned. Nothing wrong with being prepared, having supplies on hand, maybe even having a bug out location, but to give up everything and go live off-grid for no real reason seemed a bit extreme to him. It was a free country, though. As long as they weren’t Unabomber types, he really couldn’t fault them. After all, they’d been right. The end of the world had come, and they’d been ready for it.

Jessie released the latch on the set of sickle bar teeth that protected his fender and pushed them down so he could lean against the roll bar. Tommy had come up with

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