Chapter 12.

We walked down the narrow space between the foremost outer wall of Valtown and Arbuckle's building, moving towards the back gate. Sticker bushes encroached from the wall, sprouting up from deeper crevices. After so many years, nature was finally winning the battle and reclaiming the world. It didn't seem to care about the people trying to remake society on the other side.

The motorcycles broke down a few miles outside of Valtown-first Blaze's, then mine-forcing us to walk the rest of the way. My body felt the impact of being awake almost two days straight. With a buzzing brain and drooping eyes, I drifted through the motions of returning.

I was drained, needed to sleep and regroup. Most of my brain power was devoted to making sure one foot went in front of the other, while a tiny part worked on what exactly we'd tell Arbuckle.

We found a Z pawing at the gate when we turned the corner and approached. Two kids were on the other side taunting it with a stick, laughing and pushing one another towards it. When they saw us they took a few steps back, then bolted, disappearing behind an outpost tower.

The guards knew us well and let us in without any question. We slipped through the second gate. It felt like we hadn't been back in ages, but everything was still the same. People bustled down the streets, thinking their lives were important. Food ration lines were long.

"We can tell him everything," I said, once we were a minute away from Arbuckle's. "Tell him everything we saw, except don't use the word Brotherhood or show we know anything beyond what we saw."

"Got it." Blaze slumped slightly. Dark circles formed under her eyes. She might not have any fight in her today, which would make this a lot easier.

Arbuckle was in his office-a gaudy room decorated with too many paintings and too many fake plants-when we came up. He wasn't doing anything. Just staring at his desk when I opened the door. Blaze sat in a chair across the desk and kept her eyes downward.

We had to repeat the story three times before the gravity of it all struck him. Everyone in Brickston was dead, undead, or ferried away to be used by the Brotherhood. The only thing he didn't want repeated was the image of the burnt bodies on the poles.

"Do you think the horde is coming this way?" he asked.

"It's hard to say what they're going to do. Many of them were still at the rest stop the morning after the attack. Something would have to lead them here. Otherwise..."

Why were they there?

My own thought startled me. How did such a huge horde make their way to the rest stop? Something had to have led them out, or at least set them on a path. I tried to remember seeing anything beside the horde that night, but the image of their heads bobbing in the moonlight was all that I could rummage up.

If someone was leading the horde to Valtown, one of the men might've seen them and foiled the plan by opening fire on the group.

Arbuckle had the same thought. "This was orchestrated. Whatever group of people did this, they must be leading them to us."

Blaze finally spoke. "It's possible when the crazies left, the Zs followed them. It might not be intentional."

While Blaze was right, assuming the best case scenario was synonymous with being naive.

I diverted his attention from Blaze, since she had sparked a bit of hope in him. "Intentional or not, I think you should put the town on lockdown. We know there are a lot of stiffs out there. The walls will hold them back, but the crazies we have to worry about."

It was okay for Blaze and I to want to leave, but discouraging Arbuckle from putting the town on alert could be sending everyone to their deaths.

"You're right." He stood then paced around the room. "We'll lock down the gates and put extra people in the watch towers. Silent protocol."

"Whatever you have to do." I stood. "We're exhausted."

"Of course. I'll contact you if I need anything else."

Blaze's face remained neutral.

I nodded for the both of us. "Fine."

After we left, it was surreal to walk by the people in the streets. None of them knew an entire settlement was dead, that their food supplies would lessen, and they could be under attack soon, too.

I wanted a hot shower and good food, no matter the cost. Then a good sleep. I sensed it would be a long time before I got any of those things again.

Blaze wasn't interested and headed straight home to no doubt mull over the events and ready her weapons. She could eat a medley of dehydrated meat and vegetables and call it good.

Me? I had finer tastes.

Chapter 13.

Depending on my mood, the city was sometimes quaint. If I was delirious, out of my mind tired, or the stars were aligned, the whole place actually felt good. I had two out of three on the criteria, so as I walked through it was tolerable.

I smelled food, wood smoke, and a bit of animal. As I passed a tiny stand selling honeycomb, the floral sweet scent made me drool. I traded some freeze dried food and four rounds for a fist sized jar of the stuff. It would be worth it.

Next I stopped at the food market, where I got a bowl of soup for free because the woman there was afraid of me. I almost made a snarky comment about it being made of kale again-the gardens grew it in abundance all year round-but knew she'd be more afraid than take it for the lighthearted stab that it was.

Stomach full, I headed for Scrub's. It used to be a public pool, but Scrub begged Arbuckle to let him convert the building into a bathhouse of sorts. He had a water collection system on the roof that fed into the pool, which he used to fill barrels. They were hauled into shower or bath stalls in the locker rooms, where they'd be put over burning wood to boil. A simple hand pump attached to the barrels created hot showers.

I wasn't sure if Scrub was any variation of his real name, or what he'd done Before, but that's what everyone called him. Many people took the apocalypse as a chance to completely reinvent themselves. Scrub was a thriving post-apoc business man, trading food, services, and supplies for the privilege of being clean.

As I entered, steam and humidity engulfed me. It felt good against my skin, which was chapped and cold from the chilly winter weather. Scrub stood at his counter, tying sprigs of herbs together. Pine and rosemary today. He gave them to preferred customer to put in their baths. Behind him were metal racks, containing a hodgepodge of old hygiene products.

"Mr. Sinclair! In for your weekly. I've got a shower open right now," he said enthusiastically. He was tall, almost 6'4" I'd say, and could slip through a crack he was so thin. "What do you have to trade?"

"Three rounds?"

Scrub laughed. "You know I don't have any use for bullets. I haven't had to deal with a zombie in two years, plus you know Arbuckle has been phasing guns out in general pop."

"There are things other than zombies that can kill you, Scrub."

His perpetual smile dropped. Had my tone given me away? Or the fact that I didn't want any witty banter? Normally I was always in for some witty banter.

"Anything going on that I should know about?"

I inhaled the humid air, smelling the herbs and closing my eyes. I liked Scrub. I didn't want him to die, especially not by the Brotherhood. Now that I thought about it, there were many people I felt some kind of fondness for.

Arbuckle would no doubt announce the fall of Brickston soon and begin lockdown protocol on Valtown. The problem was, it was all hypothetical. Like fire drills when you're a kid in school, you knew how to do them, but everyone panicked if the real thing happened.

Instead of giving him the gritty details, I withdrew my handgun and passed it to him across the counter. I'd grab another one from the nest egg or munitions. He looked at it, unsure.

"Take it. You'll need it," I said. "And add five showers to my tab."

He closed his hand around it then set the weapon under the counter. His chipper attitude dimmed only a little as he nodded. "Stall 5. Go as long as you want, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you."

There was my good deed for the day. I didn't know if I saved Scrub's life or made things worse for him, but I tried.

It's the thought that counts, I told myself as I stripped down and let the hot water roll over me. He'll know soon enough.

I intended to stay in the shower until the barrel ran out of water, while I thought about our next move. We needed to find the Brotherhood's base. Now that we knew they had enough manpower to take out all of Brickston, we had to be careful. They were being calculating.

But what then? Did we find them just to see if we could find Beau (undoubtedly what Blaze wanted) or did we take them out? All of them?

We would do both. I had no doubt Beau was dead, but Blaze would be on board with killing all of them. If we found the base, we could assess how many there were and what their setup was like. Knowing how armed they were-I cursed, thinking of all the munitions they stole from Brickston-we couldn't take them in a gunfight. We'd need backup.

The shower sputtered. The water stopped. I dried off and put on my dirty clothes. I'd been inside Scrub's for no more than forty minutes, but things were already different outside. Arbuckle must've put the notice out.

The streets cleared as people went back into their homes. The market street was barren compared to its usual bustle. I glanced back before shutting the door.

"Arbuckle is putting the town on lockdown. He says there is a threat." Scrub managed a weak smile. "Hope to see you again soon, Mr. Sinclair."

I entered the street and began the walk home. Arbuckle had been fast. He was afraid. In a way, I was, too. We hadn't been in this much danger in a long time.

Halfway home, someone stopped me. It took a moment before I recognized her face. It was Alex's mom. I didn't remember her name, but nodded expectantly as she said mine.

"Have you seen my son?" Behind the question was a hint of accusation. She didn't like me. Thought I was a bad influence. I'd be offended if it wasn't true.

"I haven't." I usually saw Alex every day. Even though I'd been gone, I figured he would've found me since I got back. "Not since a few days ago."

"He's been gone since yesterday. Didn't come back." She fiddled with her long braid that hung over her left shoulder, a graying version of Alex's red hair. "He at least comes back for dinner. Kid has to eat."

I wasn't sure what she wanted me to say. I hadn't seen him. Conversation over. But a part of me was a little worried. Alex could've slipped out and gotten in trouble. With the crazies and Zs on the roam, it wasn't a good time to disappear.

"Haven't seen him," I said again, beginning to move past her. She called out behind me but I was already too far away to bother turning back.

I huffed up the flights of steps to the apartment and found Blaze wasn't alone. Lasko was to Blaze as Alex was to me. She was military, like many of Blaze's associates. I wasn't sure of her age. She could've been anywhere from late twenties to late thirties. Her auburn hair was cut close to her head, shorter even than Blaze's. Though she wore a sweater today, I knew she had tattoo sleeves of old school horror movie monsters, like Dracula and Frankenstein, that went from her wrist up her shoulders and grazed her neck. I was usually fond of her, except today I was tired.

Lasko was a knife maker. It was a hobby before the apocalypse and now a serious profession. She had unique ideas for implementing spikes and guards in her work. Ones that were wicked and brutal, most likely illegal Before, but were useful now. In one of the hunting knives she'd designed for Blaze, the pommel was a short spike. Perfect for impaling a zombie's head. The knuckle guard had stubby spikes built into it as well. I'd been jealous of it, especially when I saw it in action.

Either the knife making or the tobacco growing made Blaze swoon for the woman. Tim and Lasko were the only ones who endured the tedious, delicate process of growing tobacco. She'd explained it to me the previous month, after I asked how it was possible.

In her heavy East Coast accent, Boston maybe, she said, "The UV lights are what kills me. They're for hot germination, about 80 degrees, so if I don't have enough energy to run them I'm done for. I do everything I can for energy, solar and wind, but eventually I'll run out of bulbs and then that's it. No more." Whenever Blaze and I went on raids we searched for the special lights she needed.

The rest of Lasko's explanation I'd forgotten. Things about misting, temperature, and avoiding hybridization of seeds. She sold the tobacco for a high price, but gave it to Blaze for free. Only small amounts. "Because we're friends," I'd heard her say once.

They sat at the kitchen table, a couple knives spread out. When I entered, Lasko looked up and smiled. Her teeth were yellowed from tobacco, but the smile was always genuine. "Hey, Cyrus. I've got something for you."

"Oh yeah?" I tried to keep the tired out of my voice as I set down my gear then shut and locked the front door. "What is it?"

She plucked something off the table. The metal sparkled in the sunlight as she rotated the spiked brass knuckles. The spikes were more like pyramids, an inch high and deadly looking. On the front the word Victory was etched in clumsy handwriting.

I sat at the table and took it. Lightweight and a good fit. "I like it. Thanks."

"Been scavenging scrap aluminum from all the cans around town. Melted them down and poured them into a mold. They're strong but lightweight. Won't do that much damage on a stiff. Spikes aren't long enough. But from what I understand, zombies aren't the only thing we should be worried about?" Lasko leaned back in her chair. Her sweater had a faded image of a fat cat on it and a tiny hole in the shoulder where the eyeball of one of her tats peeped out. You couldn't be picky about clothes in the zombie apocalypse. Plus, for some reason, it looked tough on her.

"I told her everything," Blaze said. "About the Brotherhood."

I wasn't sure what to say. Lasko could be trusted, but I wasn't sure what Blaze intended to accomplish by telling her. I fiddled with the knuckles. The aluminum had a rough texture. The top of the pyramids weren't very sharp, but they'd do serious damage against any part of the body, clothed or not.

"Wright says you guys might be doing some reconnaissance and might need some assistance."

I looked at Blaze. We were on the same page without even talking about it. "We hadn't talked about it, but yes. I think we should look for the Brotherhood's main base. They must have one."

Lasko reached into her pocket and pulled out a tin case. Inside were thin squares of paper and her homegrown tobacco. No one ever cared I hated being around the smoke. She rolled a cigarette for Blaze, then herself.

"Copy that, man. Got any leads on where they might be?"

I moved away from the smoke drifting over the kitchen table. "Not exactly, but I have a few ideas of where we can start looking. Remember the house we checked out a couple days ago?"

Blaze nodded, adding for Lasko's benefit, "Hunters thought they found a supply hoarder's house. It was empty, but there were signs of the Brotherhood there."

"They'd been there at least a few times." I said. "We saw tire marks in the area. It's between Valtown and Brickston, making it a good halfway point if they were scoping us out."

Scoping us out. My own thought left me unsettled. Had they? Were they watching the walls now? Checking for weak spots, ways to get in? Valtown had the highest and strongest of walls in all of the settlements. If I were going to attack it, I'd spend time observing it. If the Brotherhood had become that smart and organized, we might be fucked.

Something told me they weren't the hillbilly cannibals I'd encountered five years ago.

Lasko exhaled smoke through her nostrils, tapping the table with her free hand. "Why don't we ask Ghost to come?"

I'd spoken to Ghost a few times. He generally accompanied hunters to help track down deer, but from what I understood he had a hush-hush military past that no one seemed to know about. All the military folk grouped together, feeling more comfortable with each other than the general pop. Yet even Lasko and Blaze didn't know the specifics of his past. He kept to himself and avoided fighting, even though, from the few times he had fought Zs or crazies, he knew his way around any weapon and was an expert at stealth.

On any other day, I hated teaming up. It was a combination of two things, primarily the inadequacy of most. Secondly, I just hated the majority of people. Plain and simple. But Lasko and Ghost were powerful assets in what Blaze and I were going to do. If I was to team up with anyone, it would be them.

"Ghost would be a valuable asset. If anyone can track, it would be him," I said. "Blaze?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He's good."

"Killer," Lasko said, standing up. "When do we move out?"

"Tomorrow," I said. "As soon as the sun rises, we go to munitions and get gear. I'll make sure you and Ghost are geared up."

If munitions gives me trouble about taking gear, I'll pull in every favor with Arbuckle, I thought.

After Lasko left, I crashed in my bed, swearing to kill anyone who tried to stop me.