ordered. Tony came from the crowd and patted Williams down from his neck to his feet. He pulled out his gun, the extra gun Crowe gave him, spare clips, canteen, bag of mystery meat, and radio and dropped them in the dirt.
“That’s all he’s got.” Tony said. Catherine nodded at Gerry in the truck and he lowered his gun and climbed out.
“Explain yourself.” Catherine said. Williams hesitated. “Are you thinking of an appropriate lie? There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of hungry undead surrounding the village. I have no problem feeding you to them.”
“Ok, look,” Williams said. “My name is Charles Williams I used to work for Crenshaw in Boston.” Catherine dry swallowed and blanched hearing the man’s name. “I used to arrange his foraging parties. I’m one of the reasons everything in the area is stripped bare. Look, I stole something from Crenshaw,” he paused again to see Catherine’s reaction. “When he found out he exiled me.”
“So you ran away before he dropped you into his zombie pit.”
Williams nodded and lowered his arms.
“Your story is good for now Mr. Williams,” Catherine said. “I seem to have a thing for strange men with bad stories this week.”
Frank rushed him through the crowd and pushed him in the shed with Pierce. After shoving him into the shed, Frank locked the doors and covered them with the material. He smiled at how easy it would be to shoot through the doors until the disruptions were dead.
* * * * *
Grace rushed out of the house with a handful of papers and set them on the hood of the Monte. Catherine looked at the full trailer and nodded at the people; like locusts they swarmed over the supplies and put them away. The fuel was left in the back of the truck until it could be divided up. Dried foods, canned goods were placed in community storage; a few items went home with people. Everything perishable went into the freezers.
“What do you have?” Catherine asked. Meredith and Grace spread out the papers, trying to keep them in place from the wind. Frank and Sharon came over. Beverly watched from the porch of her house. Micah sat on the hood of the truck; he sketched and took notes.
“We can’t go down the coast. Virginia, Maryland and Jersey are all hot zones, and there are no settlements that I know of. Not that we have a network to fall back on,” Frank said. Catherine moved the maps around for a better view. Frank waved his hand at Micah and he handed him a pencil.
“This way has us going to Scranton?” She turned to look at Meredith.
“They have fuel and a city and they trade,” she said in a small voice. “At least that’s what we saw while connected.”
“Yes, and it’s also one of the bigger kill zones in the east. Full of outlaws and murder squads,” Frank said.
“Maybe it’s not so bad, if we can skirt by Scranton without incident, we can hit Pittsburgh, that’s supposed to be a safe zone,” Sharon added as a low groan eased out of the trees, followed by two shots. Sharon poked her finger at the map. “We’re going to need to stop near Danbury and hope for fuel. We can’t go near Bridgeport.”
“So through Connecticut, the southern tip of New York and in to Pennsylvania. I don’t know what New York is like. I haven’t heard anything,” Catherine said and looked over to Sharon. “I hate to ask this, but could you go through the supplies; I’d love a hot meal.” Sharon smiled and wandered to the supply hut. Micah stood uneasily for a better view of the map; he glanced at Sharon before she disappeared into the hut. A plume of diesel chugged from the generator at the side of the small building, keeping the freezers going.
“I’ve heard horror stories about West Virginia but I don’t think we have much of a choice. It’s also been years since any decent intel,” Frank said looking at the shed. “We could ask one of them in the shed.” Catherine shook her head at the suggestion.
“Let them fester in
“That’s all he’s got.” Tony said. Catherine nodded at Gerry in the truck and he lowered his gun and climbed out.
“Explain yourself.” Catherine said. Williams hesitated. “Are you thinking of an appropriate lie? There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of hungry undead surrounding the village. I have no problem feeding you to them.”
“Ok, look,” Williams said. “My name is Charles Williams I used to work for Crenshaw in Boston.” Catherine dry swallowed and blanched hearing the man’s name. “I used to arrange his foraging parties. I’m one of the reasons everything in the area is stripped bare. Look, I stole something from Crenshaw,” he paused again to see Catherine’s reaction. “When he found out he exiled me.”
“So you ran away before he dropped you into his zombie pit.”
Williams nodded and lowered his arms.
“Your story is good for now Mr. Williams,” Catherine said. “I seem to have a thing for strange men with bad stories this week.”
Frank rushed him through the crowd and pushed him in the shed with Pierce. After shoving him into the shed, Frank locked the doors and covered them with the material. He smiled at how easy it would be to shoot through the doors until the disruptions were dead.
* * * * *
Grace rushed out of the house with a handful of papers and set them on the hood of the Monte. Catherine looked at the full trailer and nodded at the people; like locusts they swarmed over the supplies and put them away. The fuel was left in the back of the truck until it could be divided up. Dried foods, canned goods were placed in community storage; a few items went home with people. Everything perishable went into the freezers.
“What do you have?” Catherine asked. Meredith and Grace spread out the papers, trying to keep them in place from the wind. Frank and Sharon came over. Beverly watched from the porch of her house. Micah sat on the hood of the truck; he sketched and took notes.
“We can’t go down the coast. Virginia, Maryland and Jersey are all hot zones, and there are no settlements that I know of. Not that we have a network to fall back on,” Frank said. Catherine moved the maps around for a better view. Frank waved his hand at Micah and he handed him a pencil.
“This way has us going to Scranton?” She turned to look at Meredith.
“They have fuel and a city and they trade,” she said in a small voice. “At least that’s what we saw while connected.”
“Yes, and it’s also one of the bigger kill zones in the east. Full of outlaws and murder squads,” Frank said.
“Maybe it’s not so bad, if we can skirt by Scranton without incident, we can hit Pittsburgh, that’s supposed to be a safe zone,” Sharon added as a low groan eased out of the trees, followed by two shots. Sharon poked her finger at the map. “We’re going to need to stop near Danbury and hope for fuel. We can’t go near Bridgeport.”
“So through Connecticut, the southern tip of New York and in to Pennsylvania. I don’t know what New York is like. I haven’t heard anything,” Catherine said and looked over to Sharon. “I hate to ask this, but could you go through the supplies; I’d love a hot meal.” Sharon smiled and wandered to the supply hut. Micah stood uneasily for a better view of the map; he glanced at Sharon before she disappeared into the hut. A plume of diesel chugged from the generator at the side of the small building, keeping the freezers going.
“I’ve heard horror stories about West Virginia but I don’t think we have much of a choice. It’s also been years since any decent intel,” Frank said looking at the shed. “We could ask one of them in the shed.” Catherine shook her head at the suggestion.
“Let them fester in
Similar Books
