Rowdan looked ashamed. “I didn’t mean to send you out now, but I do not agree with your authority over this town. I think you might know why.”
Major Thorton narrowed his eyes and looked down at the smaller man. “Why would that be?” He was not used to being resisted and it rankled.
“You ain’t military,” said an older gent carrying a pump shotgun. “No officer I ever saw carried a revolver like that,” he pointed to the magnum at Thorton’s hip. “And your medals don’t make sense. You got a Navy Cross and a Vietnam Pin, but you ain’t Navy and too young to be in Vietnam.”
Thorton chuckled. “Well, well. It was bound to happen sometime.” He casually drew his revolver and fired it into the chest of the older gent who pointed out the flaws in the ruse. The heavy slug threw the older man back, dead before he hit the ground.
While the rest of the townsmen were shocked for a second at the unprovoked violence, the fake soldiers opened up with their weapons.
It was a slaughter. The townsmen had no chance to react and were cut down mercilessly. Tamikara dispatched three men to deal with the men in the towers and spread the rest out to sweep the town and get rid of any resistance.
“Round them all up and bring them here.” Thorton ordered, standing over the dying bodies of the town’s defenders. “If they fight, kill them.”
In half an hour, the inhabitants of the town had been rounded up. There were many cries of dismay at the bodies of the men who had been shot and many of the women were crying. There were only five men who survived the assault and there were thirty-five women and twenty children who survived as well. Thorton looked over his prisoners and a pretty young girl caught his eye. He smiled. His bed would be warm tonight.
The prisoners were on their knees in the grass, facing the killed defenders. Women held their children and those without children held each other. Thorton stood in front of the dead and addressed the survivors.
“I am Major Thorton and you all belong to me. Whether or not you survive the night depends on how accommodating you are.” A snicker arose from his men’s ranks. The anticipation in the faces of the fake soldiers was evident and many of the women cringed, knowing what was in their future.
“To make you more accommodating, I have an incentive program.” He nodded to his captain, who signaled his men. The men moved through the prisoners and took the children away from their mothers. Every child under the age of ten and over the age of two was taken away. They screamed for their mothers, who were kicked back when they tried to fight off the soldiers. The children were placed into the bed of a truck, with the older ones being told to take care of the younger ones.
Once they were quieted down, three men stationed themselves onto a picnic table that had been moved close to the truck. The men pointed their weapons at the canvas walls of the truck. There were several shrieks from the women.
Thorton spoke again. “If anyone resists, these men open fire. If anyone tries to escape, they open fire. If any of my men is harmed, they open fire. If I am displeased by anything, they will open fire. Do you understand?”
Defeated, there were several nods of agreement. Thorton smiled. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He stepped forward and grabbed the arm of the girl he had picked earlier. There was a moment of anger that passed over her eyes, but she looked at the truck and submitted without a word. “You’re with me. Consider yourself fortunate. I’m real kind to those who like me.”
Thorton dragged the girl over to the nearest house and called over his shoulder “First squad, take the north side of town, find anything that we can use. Second squad, you’re up for weapons and food. Third squad, you get to go first.”
There were whoops of joy at this proclamation and some groans. But louder than both were the cries from the women who were chosen to service the conquerors. Women were dragged into nearby homes, businesses and alleyways to be assaulted. Clothing was ripped off, backs bent over counters and chairs, while hands clawed at the dirt, the floor and bedcovers. Death and pain had come to Lomar.
When one squad was finished, another would begin, so each woman was raped not once, but at least twice. The prettier ones were raped several times, leaving them broken when the men were finished. Supplies were stolen from homes, ammunition hordes were confiscated and useful tools were taken. Cries sounded from the truck in the center of town, scared children who just wanted their mothers and were forced to hear their parents’ screams of pain and humiliation. The men who guarded the truck taunted the children, pointing out to them cries that could be their parents and laughing at the screams of rage and terror.
In the morning, the soldiers brought the women back to the center of town, many of them trying to hold their dignity together with strips of clothing. The mothers ran to the truck and their children were released to them. Tears of joy and concern flowed from both mother and child. The soldiers jeered at the children and women, then aimed their attention at another atrocity. Around the square, from various branches of the cottonwood trees, swayed the bodies of the surviving men. Thorton had the idea to hang them, tying a rope around each man’s throat and lifting him a few feet off the ground.
Thorton was in a good mood. He had enjoyed himself thoroughly with his own prisoner and had left her tied to the bed he had raped her in. Since he had slowly broken her neck as a parting gift, she was in no condition to complain.
Thorton had his men mount up and as they pulled out of the town, he had the gate torn apart. He then set fire to the first row of homes near the gate. As the flames climbed high, black smoke rolled up in the morning breeze, sending a huge plume of black smoke up into the lightening sky.
That ought to attract a few zombies to this place. Thorton thought to himself as the truck rolled out east. He couldn’t care less about the survivors of his assault on the town. He had been satisfied and he had caused a great deal of misery on other people. It had been a good night. The fires backlight the trucks, throwing red onto the faces of the men who bothered to look back. They were unaware of the hate-filled eyes that followed them, tearfully damning them for what they had done. It was a look that would repeat itself again and again.
Ken Thorton stretched in the cab and looked out the window. The sign that welcomed him to Kansas had no idea what kind of devil it was inviting to visit.
14
BLAM!
“Jesus, Nate. He’s right there.”
BLAM!
“You know, he’s not even moving.”
BLAM!
“C’mon, Nate. The guys are watching.”
BLAM!
“Finally! When was the last time you fired a gun?” I stepped over to the railing that Nate had rested his rifle on and peered at the scene across the waterway. A mother and her son had been treed by a roaming zombie and they were well on their way to dying in one form or another when we happened across the situation. Nate had decided to ride to the rescue and steadied himself for what should have been a single shot. The zombie had been only fifty yards away, an easy shot for any of my crew. But Nate, living as he had been with the community and spending his days training, seemed to have let his firearms skills lapse.
Nate stood up from his rest and glared at me. “I’m not sure when I may have shot last, but I’m gettin’ a good idea as to when I’m shootin’ next.” He threw a single finger salute to the rest of the crew, who were standing over by the RV.
I laughed to ease the tension as Tommy came over to where I was standing and watched as the pair climbed down from the tree. I had my own rifle at the ready in case any other zombies had been attracted by the shots. The mother and son went to the small canal’s edge and drank deeply, likely their first drink in a couple of days. When they finished, they returned to their vehicle, threw us a wave and drove quickly off. They knew that shots were likely drawing more undead to the area, so it was better to keep moving and get to a safer place.
I returned the wave and continued to watch the treeline.
