Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos Simpson, A. (new books to read .txt) 📖

had been sectioned into small apartments, enough for everyone to be comfortable and the smaller was the medical clinic and headquarters. The fields were tilled and some already planted. Cattle, horses and sheep roamed much of the five hundred acres. New log cabins had been constructed and more were going up.

“We can build them pretty fast.” The kid explained. “The shells are easy, doing the finish work is hard. We cleaned out the local lumber yard but it’s still too dangerous to go into town. Maybe this winter when all the zeds are frozen solid, we can get shingles and nails and real windows. Building with logs is pretty simple, nothing has to be perfectly square.”

He continued the tour, showed them their small water wheel which kept a bank of batteries charged.

“We’re lucky they were from an engineer unit.” The kid said, referring to the soldiers. “They knew how to build the drawbridge and drive bulldozers and trucks and make all kinds of stuff.”

He showed them the saw mill, and the new barns, and his pride was apparent. As they walked, he pointed out projects they were working on and told them how they had wound up on Iona. Like the rest of the civilians on the island, the soldiers had brought him here, fought to protect them and kept them alive through the winter. Most of them had nothing, just the clothes on their backs. They had fled from school or work or their houses and ran to the trucks and Humvees when the Guard rolled by. Miles didn’t have a plan but he wouldn’t drive off and leave people running for their lives. He crammed everyone aboard. They thought they were being rescued, taken to an area where there would be doctors and food and emergency shelters but there wasn’t. The soldiers were running for their lives, too. They were barely organized, trying to contact command and were on their own. There had been a lot more of them in the beginning. More soldiers, more vehicles and more people. The dead were everywhere they turned. Every safe zone they tried to establish was overrun and finally they had fled in panic to the island. They made their last stand. Many more died and were floated down the river but many more survived. The strong lived on and First Sergeant Miles became their leader. He was tough but fair and they started rebuilding.

Once Natalie got over her initial shyness and started talking with their tour guide Jessie told them he’d go back by himself, see what the First Sergeant wanted. They barely noticed. She’d started to fill out with all the healthy eating she’d been doing and he was the first boy she’d talked to in years. Jessie didn’t count. He may have only been a few years older but he acted older than dirt. Like a grumpy old man half the time. Jessie watched as he led her down to the shoreline to show her their fresh water filtration unit. Probably an excuse to extend their walk, he seemed to be enjoying it as much as her.

Jessie took a different route back to the headquarters building. He was looking for anything amiss, slaves or penned zombies or hardcore raiders keeping out of sight but everything appeared to be exactly what Miles had claimed it was. A small community of survivors that had struggled, almost gone under and were rebuilding. They had a plan.

Miles was sitting at his desk going over paperwork when Jessie rapped on the door frame.

“Come in.” he said and motioned to a chair. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?”

Jessie shook his head and waited while Miles busied himself scooting around his papers for a moment. He asked about other settlements Jessie had been to and was surprised when he learned this was the first East of the Mississippi. They made small talk for a few minutes but Jessie wasn’t good at it and let the silences drag out.

“You have a reputation as a man who can get things done.” Miles said, getting around to what he really wanted. “If half the stories I’ve heard on the radio are true…”

“They’re not.” Jessie said flatly. “Exaggerations and lies for the most part and I’m not an ambassador anymore. I don’t get involved with other people’s problems.

Miles faltered; the little speech he had prepared died on his lips. He looked down at his desk and moved some more papers.

Jessie waited.

“We really need a man of your talents.” He finally said. “I know some of the stories have been exaggerated but most of them are true.”

“Have your soldiers do whatever it is you want me to do. Doesn’t your network have retrievers?”

“No, we don’t and no they can’t.” Miles snapped. “My soldiers aren’t infantry, the only time they used a gun before all this was in basic training. We’re all that remains of an Engineering unit. We’re the ones left behind at the National Guard posts when the soldiers who were actually needed were called up to be on standby. I’m not even a First Sergeant, or I wasn’t before all this started. I had four years of active duty as a combat engineer. All I did in Afghanistan was unroll concertina wire and pull guard duty. I got a field promotion to First Sergeant from our lieutenant before he died. I don’t even know if it’s legal, I certainly didn’t get any orders or a ceremony. I have maybe a dozen good men that I would send into a hotspot, you met some of them on patrol. They’re competent, they’re careful and they know how to clear a house. They can kill shamblers and they’ve had to deal with a few fast ones since we started leaving the island.”

“That sounds like enough unless you’re trying to clear a town or something.” Jessie said.

“If I lose them, who will bring in the supplies we need? The rest of my people aren’t fighters. They