The Virus Within: The Unranked (Book 4)

Ch. 4: Journey To The Past

I frowned at the barn door as I approached, not looking forward to going inside. But there was no point in putting it off since Graydon Stronghold had already said they were happy to be our host and let Nina use anything in their lab.

With a sigh, I pulled the door open, soliciting a piercing cry and a metallic clang from within. I walked inside as I regarded the male zombie straining against the cage bars to get to me. Like every other feral zombie, he looked like a rabid version of his human self. Other than his cloudy eyes, behavior, and scent, there was no visible telltale sign to differentiate him from the Runner in the cage beside him.

He gave a gravelly snarl of frustration before tackling the two-inch thick bars on the door, which clanged, but held firm, just as they had for several years. Even though I knew he couldn't hear me, I growled at him and bared my teeth. His cloudy white eyes were locked onto me as he groped at the bars he couldn't see and tried to push them out of his way.

I crossed my arms and waited. One, two, thr- The zombie went silent as his head turned side-to-side, searching for me now that I stopped moving. It peered at the Runner in the cage beside it, then looked away, dismissing the still-moving Runner as the same unreachable thing that had been there for years.

I tossed a dead rat on top of the cage, and as it fell through the bars, the mutant grabbed it midair. With gravelly growls, the rat was devoured in less than a minute. I walked to the side, but this time, the zombie's gaze merely followed my movement, now recognizing me as the one who occasionally brought him food. When he didn't tackle the bars, I tossed a second rat his way.

This meal disappeared just as quickly. I slowly paced to the other end of the barn, and even though he could still see me, the mutant zombie lost interest in me. I was the bringer of food and never gave more if he was trying to attack me. It had taken him weeks to catch on, but once he figured it out, he had never forgotten.

Despite being deaf and only able to see moving objects, it had a strange ability to learn in fashions that feral Runners and Nightstalkers didn't possess. The baffling part was that he had never learned to recognize how I walked or moved; he always assumed I was prey until I tossed a dead animal his way. Perhaps he simply couldn't see that well, and we already knew he couldn't smell me.

I meandered back and stuck a thin copper pipe through the bars. He came to investigate the moving object, easily grabbing it. I held on tightly and tugged it lightly. He pulled it sideways as he leaned down to bite it, bending the middle since I refused to release my grip.

He growled as he realized the pipe was inedible, but when I wiggled it, he tried biting it a few more times for good measure. When the pipe continued moving, he began mauling it with his hands, inadvertently twisting it into a tangled mess as he tried to subdue his strange prey.

Any other zombie would have ignored the pipe, but this mutant's bizarre persistence with moving inanimate objects continued to perplex me. This was about the fiftieth piece of pipe he had destroyed, so it wasn't like it was the first time he had encountered one.

His ability to learn certain things but not others was as random as flipping a coin. The only predictable thing was his aggressive behavior. If that detail held true with the two strange zombies we were going to see tomorrow, I wanted to be prepared.

With that thought in mind, I left the barn. I had a few hours until sunset, so a nap wouldn't go amiss, then I had some packing to do and a list of specific items to locate.

~

For humans, the deep shadows in the rafters of the windowless garage were so dark they would have needed a light source just to make out the trusses regardless of the time of day it was. For a Nightstalker, even on a cloudy night, we merely had to remove our sunglasses in order to see every knot on the wooden beams.

My glowing red eyes scanned the rafters, easily spotting the wooden box attached to the underside of the roof. I jumped up and stood on a roof truss while hanging onto a higher beam for balance.

I edged closer to the box I had hidden here years ago, just in case I was ever dragged on another dubious road trip. With a bit of shimmying, I eased the box out of the brackets holding it. I dropped to the floor below, and my knees bent to absorb the impact, but metallic clunking still came from within the box as the contents shifted.

I set the box down just long enough to put my sunglasses back on, then carried it outside the garage. The pickup truck was already parked beside the secondary building, the same truck our group had used to rescue Nicky and Jess, although it had undergone several modifications over the years.

The paintjob – blue and purple swirls – was Nicky's handiwork, although the wood gas setup was the mechanics' labor of love. Most of Ironwind's trucks had been retrofitted with them when the fuel ran out.

The canisters were usually right against the cab, but the mechanics had placed these on the back bumper to give passengers as much room as possible. It was almost like they knew they'd be sticking a grumpy zombie and an over-energetic redhead in a limited space for an extended period of time.

After I hefted the box over the side of the truck box and plopped it on the mattress, I jumped into the back. The lid creaked as I opened it, revealing the pile of shiny silver.

Most people would have thought the mishmash of crowbars, socket wrenches, hammers, wrenches, and other tools were an unorganized disaster, but the one-way boomerangs had been carefully sorted by weight and size.

I began tucking them behind the mattress and into various hidey-holes all around the truck. I wondered how long it would take Daniel to find the wrench hiding above the sun visor.

I made a quick trip back to the garage for a smaller box. When I returned to the truck, I opened the glovebox to put two wind-up flashlights inside, but when I spotted the three sets of welding goggles inside, I added a third flashlight. Then I stuck one under the driver's seat and passenger seat for good measure.

Other items were carefully stashed in various locations. The gun cabinet was still attached to the front of the truck. It had been repainted and usually only carried extra wood, but it would likely have a case of deja vu if Nina decided one or both zombies had to come back to Ironwind with us.

I crossed my arms and regarded the truck as I tried to think of anything I might have possibly missed. The extendable ladder was already strapped to the outside in case we had to send our human companions onto a roof for safety. I had packed far more weapons than could possibly be required, especially if we were just up against two strange zombies that humans had been able to subdue or evade.

But I still had a nagging feeling I was missing something.

I dug through the storage bins hanging on the side of the truck, confirming Daniel had packed basic supplies like axes, chains, and rope, although whether these were meant to tie up the zombies or Nicky was as-yet unknown.

I walked around the truck but was still no wiser about what I might have missed. My bow and arrows lay on the mattress. I was fully capable of living off the land with zero supplies.

What could I possibly be missing? The nagging sensation continued, and I was pretty sure it wasn't just because of my track record with road trips.

My thoughts turned to my companions. Daniel was just as self-sufficient as I was if he had to be. Logan would pack only the essentials. Nina was the sort who'd pack anything she might need and then a bit more.

That left Nicky. Pursing my lips, I headed to my bedroom to collect a few objects I had saved for a situation like this. I packed a bunch of small items to help keep Nicky occupied, such as a few rubik's cubes, felts, and after a moment of thought, I also grabbed the boomerang.

A package of felts also went into my backpack to ensure the redhead remained preoccupied during this trip. A zombie apocalypse was enough to deal with, and the last thing I wanted was a bored Nicky causing mischief in a strange Stronghold with unusual zombies in the area.

I opened another dresser drawer and regarded the thick bandages and various medical supplies I'd found over the years. After giving them a long look, I packed some into my backpack. Considering how our road trips usually went, there was unfortunately a high chance they'd be needed.

If I got shot at again, there'd be hell to pay.