The Aftermath Trilogy (Book 2): The Aftermath [Town of the Dead] Read online

  The Aftermath:

  Town of the Dead

  Daniel Smith

  Copyright © 2012 Daniel Smith

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1482701586

  ISBN-13: 978-1482701586

  DEDICATION

  To my family and friends thanks for the support.

  CONTENTS

  1

  An Old Friend

  1

  2

  Home Again

  Pg 21

  3

  The Business Offer

  Pg 42

  4

  Trip

  Pg 68

  5

  Truck Pick Up

  Pg 89

  6

  Town of the Dead

  Pg 105

  7

  A Day out on the Town

  Pg 126

  8

  From Bad to Worst

  Pg 146

  9

  Leaving Town

  Pg 166

  10

  The Future

  Pg 182

  1 An Old Friend

  The dirty, pale grayish arm reached out with mangled fingers. Appearing as a withered claw the dried out skin around the fingernails had drawn back exposing the broken yellowish nails. The hand belonged to an emaciated man who had a drawn out sunken face. His pale blue lips pulled back to make his yellowish teeth look like he was snarling. A low moaning sound escaped from between the pale blue torn lips that housed the yellow teeth. The lifeless solid milky white eyes stared blankly forward as it reached out grabbing with the withered hand. The person jolted awake and started looking around in an almost frantic state. The rain had started again after dawn and was coming down in a light drizzle, almost like a heavy mist masking the morning sky in a gray shroud.

  “Just that damn dream again,” he mumbled to himself. Emerging from the wet mist was a twenty-foot rectangle hay trailer. Metal mesh stretched between the tall metal pipe framed sides. The trailer covered in blue and green tarpaulins, which made it look abnormally large on the tires compared with the blue and white golf cart that was in tow behind it. The overloaded trailer rolled lazily down the thickly packed tree lined roadway pulled by four large Clydesdale horses, they were large animals. Almost six feet tall at their shoulder with a dark brown coat of coarse short hair except for the snow-white patch of hair around their nose and mouth. The area of snow-white hair also extended from their knees to the tops of their hoof's and they had short brown stubs for tails. Their hooves made a heavy clopping sound as they walked down the asphalt road. The sole occupant of the trailer sat at the front were it sloped down at an angle on a crudely installed wood bench seat.

  He let his left hand leave the reins for a moment to wipe the buildup of water mist from the sparsely growing blondish brown beard that lightly covered the lower part of his face. His blue eyes peaked out under the tan flat top bush hat that had one side of the brim folded up and snapped in place to the side of the hat. While he tried to wipe the water on his hand off on the green plastic poncho, failing in the try. He stood up on the rough wood seat and turned his head to the left so he could look over the trailer behind him down the road. He could just make out the shadow of a large moving mass on the highway through the gray wet mist.

  He could not hear the low pitiful moaning sound that came from the shadowy mass down the road. Because of the loud clopping noise of the horse’s hooves as they pulled the trailer down the two-lane highway. However, he knew they were making the moaning sound, it had kept him up most of the night and woke him early this morning before dawn. The sound had made him start tiredly off again only after a few hours of rest.

  “Must have dozed off,” he mumbled again as he checked his stainless steel wristwatch to confirm it was almost midmorning. He could see that he was approaching the Mississippi River embankment with the metal bridge that would lead him into the Town of Hope.

  Through the gray mist, he could start to see where the trees started sloping down towards the tree line bank of the wide slow moving river of the Mississippi. The tall gray steel towers of the suspension bridge were coming more distinctive through the mist over the trees. The horses drawing the trailer ever closer to the bridge. The two large blue and white metal shipping containers that sat blocking the bridge entrance. Forming a gate came into view with several trucks sitting stopped in front of them. The trailer and driver drew closer to the bridge, he could see a group of people standing in front of the lead truck. He moved his right hand off the leather reigns and under the green poncho, he was wearing. He gripped the black plastic handle of the Colt collapsible stock of the five point five six millimeter assault rifle that sat across his lap covered from the rain under the poncho.

  Pulling the large heavily loaded trailer into the opposite lane of the roadway that led to the bridge, bypassing the four trucks that sat there. He used his hand pulling back gently on the reins to slow the wagon to a stop near the group of people that were arguing in front of the cargo container on the bridge. No one in the group even bothered to look at him as they continued their argument. Two of the people in the group were wearing the standard uniform of the town self-defense force.

  The self-defense force wore black police riot gear with black short sleeve shirts, black tactical gloves with military style cargo pants that match the shirt. With the remaining uniform consisting of a black tanker, style Kevlar, helmet with a lifting full-face wraparound clear plastic shield. Black padded vest with small hard plastic rectangular plates in three columns going up and down the vest with hard plastic shoulder pads. Upper arm plates with matching groin plate, and hard plastic thigh, knee and shin plates that lead down to black combat boots. On their belts they carried, a leather sheath with a machete with a large rectangle plastic shield. SELF-DEFENSE FORCE in black letters painted over a thin white area in the center of the shield.

  The larger of the two had a black Beretta ninety-two nine-millimeter autoloading pistol on his belt. The two soldiers dressed in the green, brown and black pattern of woodland camouflage fatigues with M.O.L.L.E gear (Modular Lightweight Load Carrying Equipment). The Molle gear they wore consisted of an adjustable vest type harness with four ammunition pouches. Containing separators to hold three thirty round magazines for their rifles. The vest also housed four grenades in pouches; two utility pouches. Two Cylume or Ancillaries pouches, one rope pouch, two small zip pockets. Two Large Map Pockets and an Interior with a mounting point for a radio with an integrated pistol holster and a one-hundred ounce capacity hydration reservoir pouch on the back. They all had a Colt collapsible stock assault rifle hanging from black nylon slings at their sides just like the one the trailer driver had his hand on.

  Men and women dressed in various jeans and work shirts made up the balance of the group. After the driver stopped the wagon, he discreetly waved to the Asian guard who had a hint of black hair sticking out from underneath her helmet. Sitting behind some green sandbags on top of the blue and white container with a bolt-action hunting rifle sitting across her lap. The discrete nod she gave him was hardly notice as he leaned over the bench seat of the trailer to listen to the intensive argument coming from the group next to him. The group of people next to him was so involved with the argument that they still paid him no attention. This gave the driver time to look the group over and recognize the several familiar faces among them. One of these faces belonged to a self-defense force member named John. He was a large well muscular ex-police officer who had light brown hair that was starting to gray. He was carrying a Beretta model ninety-two nine-millimeter semiautomatic pisto
l on his belt with his right hand hovering near it as he tried to keep order in the group.

  “You will submit to the search of your trucks and the questions,” Captain Jones shouted angrily at the people.

  The trailer driver’s finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle as a look of anger flashed across his face as his blue eyes narrowed when he recognized the soldier that has spoken. Captain Jones caught his eye. Her five-foot seven stocky frame appeared small compared to John tall appearance as the driver still could not tell her age. He thought perhaps she was in her late twenties or early thirties. Her plain sallow face with thin nose and watery light brown eyes gave her an unfriendly look. The thin-lipped scowl she was wearing and the cold monotone voice of hers only added to the unfriendly nature she always had.

  He could never tell anything more about her because the helmet and M.O.L.L.E gear she wore always hid everything else about her including what color her hair was. The last time he had seen her replayed across his mind. He remembered that he almost shot her in the town council chamber while she was lying about how he met his end to some zombies in Memphis. When in fact the truth was she had shot him, thinking she had left him for dead while he was on the roof of a Biomedical laboratory in Memphis. She stood arguing with John and the others.

  “The hell we will,” Rex yelled as several others in the group voice the same opinion.

  “Damn straight,” T-bone added in.

  “Shove it,” the dark haired woman threw in.

  These two he recognized as Rex and T-bone. Rex was a short stocky man with curly jet-black hair and beard to match who always wore a flannel shirt year-round. Today was no different and in his red and black flannel shirt he was the one doing most of the arguing with the soldiers. T-bone in his jeans and cotton work shirt backed him up. The dark hair woman he know by sight not name.

  “There is no way you are searching my truck,” Rex stated angrily.

  “Mine either,” T-Bone added in.

  Captain Jones’s face showed her anger as John sighed loudly standing between them trying to keep everyone calm.

  “Everyone just calm down. There will be no searches,” he said directing this towards Captain Jones.

  She swell up in anger as she glared at him.

  “And you can shove your questions right up,” the woman with dark hair started to say as John’s face tighten his hand moving closer to the Beretta on his hip.

  “I think everyone should calm down,” he stated loudly cutting the woman off.

  “Let me remind you of who's in charge,” Captain Jones started to say.

  As John and the group laughed at her. Causing her anger to grow as the soldier next to her fidgeted nervously.

  “In charge of what you are here to help us,” he stated.

  The nervous looking soldier standing next to Captain Jones moved his hand towards the pistol grip of his M16 rifle. The driver of the trailer noticed moving the assault rifle under his poncho towards them.

  “I am a Captain in the U.S. Army and the president has declared martial,” she started as people yelled out.

  “Does not mean Jack around here lady,” one person yelled.

  “You did not bother to protect us so piss off,” the dark hair woman yelled at her.

  This only enrage Captain Jones as her hand drop for the Colt collapsible stock assault rifle.

  “Enough,” John yelled out.

  He watched as she glared at him motioning with her hand for two other soldiers standing behind the shipping containers to move forward. The driver of the trailer could see the self-defense force members visibly tense hands tightening on weapons as several turned to look directly at the two approaching soldiers. John's normally calm voice sounded tensed and strained.

  “Let me make my point,” he started looking at her.

  “This bridge is under the town control and that's the only point you need to know,” he stated.

  Turning trying to keep an eye on the rest of the group as they tensed ready for a fight.

  “Let me make my point clear,” her voice was cold and angry. Before she could finish her sentence and before any of the others could speak, the driver pulled the Colt collapsible stock assault rifle from under his green poncho and interrupted her with a loud voice.

  “Better watch out, she does that with bullets.” Captain Jones froze at his interruption turning with the others to stare at the speaker.

  “With a jerk,” Captain Jones started saying as she recognized the person who had interrupted her hand jerking for the black pistol grip of her Colt collapsible stock assault rifle. Dan stared back with a slight smile on his face as she realized that his Colt collapsible stock assault rifle was already pointing at her from across his lap where it laid.

  “Damn it,” John said seeing her hand move towards the grip of her rifle and instantly put his hand on the hilt of his Beretta model ninety-two. At the sight of this, Rex and T-bone started backing up their hands going for their weapons as the guards on the shipping containers immediately snapped their weapons up ready.

  The face of the Corporal standing next to Captain Jones showed shock and misgiving, unsure if he should go for his rifle or not. Dan could see the loathing in the Captain’s cold brown eyes now as she stared at him. John spoke up and his voice showing the years of being a police officer was at work as he tried taking control the confrontation.

  I know she’s the one who shot you Dan but this is not the time or place to settle this,” he said. His hand on his pistol now as he spoke at Captain Jones keeping sight of Dan from the corner of his brown eyes. Captain Jones stared at Dan in silence, as she seemingly weighed her odds.

  “She is the one,” T-Bone called out.

  “Someone get a rope,” Rex yelled out to the approving yells of the crowd.

  The Corporal standing next to Captain Jones looked panicked as she hatefully stared at Dan.

  “All right John,” Dan replied with his hand still on the black pistol grip of the rifle as he moved it slightly to point the muzzle away from Captain Jones. John had about a second to relax before Dan calmly spoke.

  “Right now what is important are the two hundred or so zombies a half mile down the road heading this way,” he said while his blue eyes never broke eye contact with Captain Jones. He captured the group’s attention with that piece of news. John never even looked at him as the expression on his face broke into the.

  “I can’t get a break,” he look before looking straight up at the Asian guard on the container behind the sandbags.

  “Open the gates now. Sue get on the phone, we are going to need back up,” he ordered. Sue turned her slight frame fluidly on the container and began shouting instructions behind the gate. Captain Jones broke eye contact with Dan as the doors of the containers started moving to allow entry to the bridge. She turned her cold gaze to John before she started to say angrily.

  “Just a minute.”

  John spun to face her full on as he cut her off. Dan had never recalled him speaking that angrily to anyone before.

  “Get the hell out of my way before I shoot you,” John told her as he pushed her out of his way. The stunned Corporal moving quickly to avoid being hit.

  “Hell yes,” Rex yelled out.

  John moved heading for the now opening gates. Captain Jones paused a moment as the gates started opening as she fought to regain her composure before speaking.

  “Need I remind you,” she started to say but before she could finish John barked.

  “Of what,” he called over his shoulder without even turning to look at her.

  “You are supposed to be here to help us,” John started turning to glare at her.

  “Are you going to try and stop us,” he told her mockingly.

  “Because if you are. I will remind you that there are four of you and ten of us,” he said motioning to the other self-defense force members with a wave of his hand.

  “Eleven” Dan added still smiling at the Captain trying to provoke her.

>   “Twelve,” Rex piped in.

  “Thirteen,” T-bone added before

  “Fourteen,” the dark haired woman added.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Sixteen,” and onto twenty-two was heard from the other people standing on the bridge. Captain Jones looked around at the group before her all holding weapons of some sort. She turned to the soldier who was looking nervous next to her and after a moment, she regained her composure. Glancing past the group into the heavy gray mist at the moving shadow growing closer. The slight sounds of moans just starting to reach their ears.

  “Well, if you don’t want us here we can leave,” she said coldly to John with a slight smile playing on her lips.

  Before John could replied Dan, still trying to provoke her, added in rather cruelly.

  “I am surprised your still here, last time you took off running when there was only twenty zombies. Now there is over two hundred.”

  The hatred returned to her face as she went for her rifle realizing it was too late. Dan easily shifted the muzzle of his rifle to point it right at her again as he meet her gaze. Before he coldly said.

  “We can settle this right now, no one will interfere.”

  “No but we might help,” Rex called out as John spun around.

  “Rex stop causing trouble and tempting everyone,” he shouted at him.

  She pause thinking about what he had said before slowly removing her hand from her rifle as she turned to leave. Dan watched her walk through the now open doors of the containers that formed the gate before he removed his hand from the trigger. John looked at him as he sat on the wood bench on the front of trailer. For a long moment making sure he had remove his hand from the rifle’s trigger before waving his arm.

  “Come on, get those trucks through the gates” John said as Dan shook the brown leather reigns to get the large horses moving again as the bulky trailer pulled forward towards the open gate.