Tuesday, June 26, 2001 Park City, UT 1:59 PM.

After breakfast Jenkins had returned to HQ and spent the remainder of the morning and the first part of the afternoon in the War Room going over the plans for the cities defensive perimeter with General Parker and Captain Sheen, insisting on knowing all of the resources at their disposal. There were one thousand trained soldiers in uniform in Park City, including those stationed at Kimball Junction, with an additional two thousand member militia made up of raiders and city resident volunteers. Nine M1A1 Abrams tanks, six AH-64D Apache gun ships, a dozen Humvees equipped with TOW missile launcher and six old Huey transport choppers made up the armored division. They were in contact with Hill AFB, thirty miles north in Ogden, but they had their own problems, with thousands of refugees and assault from zombies from all sides.

Just a couple of hours into the planning it became obvious that he and Captain Sheen could not agree on almost anything. After awhile Jenkins began to suspect the Captain opposed any idea he proposed regardless of how sound it was simply to spite him.

"Containing them in the canyon is the key to stopping any invasion. Summittown is an excellent forward base. It has housing, facilities for a fuel depot, and all of the main off road trails are easily accessible." Jenkins said with exasperation. He had been hammering this point to the General all day, but Captain Sheen still argued against it.

"Your plan would commit nearly half of our defenses into that canyon." Sheen said.

Jenkins ignored Sheen and kept his eyes on General Parker. "With that artery shut down we can then begin to sweep outward and annex the surrounding areas to the north, south and east. There a several small towns near here; Wanship, Coalville, Echo, Heber, Morgan, Kaysville." Jenkins didn't mention Kittewa.

"Most of those were cleaned out months ago." Sheen said. "Our main lifelines are Salt Lake, Ogden and Provo."

"I'm not talking about plundering those towns Captain I'm talking about populating them."

General Parker and Captain Sheen both looked at him strange.

"The towns are still there. That's good farming, fishing and hunting. We are in a war for the survival of the human race. We have to gather more people to us and organize, rebuild civilization." Jenkins could tell by the look on both their faces that these concepts had never entered their minds.

"JESUS CHRIST! What the fuck have you people been doing up here?" Jenkins flew to his feet in a rage. "The fucking world is falling apart around you and you two act like this is all some kind of war game!" The entire War Room had gone silent, every eye on Jenkins.

"Colonel, control yourself." General Parker said, coming to his feet. Captain Sheen rose also, adopting a half defensive stance as if he expected Jenkins to attack him.

"You are a General in the United States Army with over one thousand trained soldiers under your command and twice that number in conscripts and you hadn't even properly secured the cities borders from infiltration until I signed on with you!" The Generals face was aghast. Obviously he had never been spoken to in this manner.

"And you!" Jenkins turned and pointed at Captain Sheen. "Shit rolls down hill and collects and I have never seen a bigger pile of shit wearing a uniform than you Sheen. You are a stupid, arrogant man whose ego interferes with your making a competent decision."

"Why you son of a bitch!" Sheen lunged at Jenkins. Jenkins sidestepped and clipped him on the jaw with a quick left jab. Sheen stumbled forward. Jenkins moved up beside him and blasted a wicked right cross to Sheens face. Sheen dropped like a rock.

"COLONEL JENKINS!" General Parker boomed.

Jenkins spun to face the General with rage in his eyes, his hands still balled in fists. Two uniformed soldiers stepped from around one of the desks with pistols in their hands. Both were aiming at Jenkins.

"Easy gentlemen." The General said, raising his hand. "It has been a long and frustrating day." One of the soldiers bent to check Sheen, who was slowly coming around.

"I apologize, General." Jenkins said, feeling shame flush his face. He had lost his temper and that didn't happen often. But if there was one thing he hated in an officer more than ignorance it was incompetence. And The General fit that bill nicely. "I lost my temper. It won't happen again."

"I know it won't." General Parker said. He looked down at Captain Sheen. He was in a sitting position, rubbing his swollen jaw. "That jaw looks busted Captain. Report to the infirmary as soon as you can walk." Sheen's eyes flared with rage and he came to his feet with a growl. Jenkins tensed, expecting him to attack, but Sheen just stood there and glared at him. "The infirmary Captain." The General reiterated.

"Watch your back cocksucker!" Sheen growled through his clenched and swollen jaw. "I'm going to kill you."

"I'll be waiting." Jenkins sneered. General Parker glared at Captain Sheen and he turned and walked out of the War Room.

"Colonel I have granted you tremendous leeway since you joined with us because I knew you would be a valuable asset. But this has gone far enough. You will respect my command and you will respect your subordinate officers. Do I make myself clear?"

"Don't start rattling off regulations to me General. I told you I wasn't re-enlisting. This was a courtesy commission for convenience sake."

"I am still the Commander of this city and my word is law." General Parker's voice got icy cold. "You will obey my law or be expelled from the city. Do I make myself clear Colonel Jenkins?"

"Very." Jenkins answered just as coldly. They held each other's eyes for several long seconds. "I need a cigarette." Jenkins walked toward the exit...

He was halfway through his cigarette when General Parker walked out the front door of HQ. Jenkins took one last drag off his smoke then crushed it beneath his heel. He looked to the street and saw the General's Humvee pull up to the curb.

"I trust your nerves have calmed." The General said with a grin and ducked into the vehicle.

"We still have half an hour before we need to be at the hospital." Jenkins muttered.

"I thought we'd arrive early and surprise the good doctor." The General gave out a chuckle and climbed into the back of the Humvee. Jenkins just grit his teeth and got in after the General. He had been a fool for blowing his top and hitting Captain Sheen. There was too much he needed from General Parker: one ton in food credit, two hundred gallons of diesel fuel and communication satellite access. General Parker might be an incompetent fool but he was still Commander of the military and therefore ruler of Park City. And since it was in the best interest of the group to stay on good terms with Park City he needed to control his temper and play the game by Parker's rules.

"I apologize for my outburst General Parker. I assure you it will never happen again. But despite my conduct, you cannot argue that Captain Sheen was being counter-productive to the planning. He would argue against the soundest plan for no other reason than to oppose me." The General remained silent. "You know I am right about taking Summittown and containing that avenue of attack. The expansion into the surrounding communities is the next logical step. Interstate 84 north gives quick and easy access to Ogden and Hill Air Force Base and Highway 40 south takes you into Provo."

"And I-80 east goes up through Evanston." The General said with a nod.

"And my people are up that way." Jenkins said. He didn't want to reveal exactly where they had settled. "And we'll have this whole area sealed up. Nothing will get in without our knowing about it. And there will be plenty of ready to populate towns in the middle just waiting for settlers. We'll have to clear out some deadfucks but that won't be any problem. And there will most likely be survivors holed up somewhere."

"You make it sound so easy Colonel." The General gave a dry, nervous laugh. Jenkins could see right then that not only was Parker incompetent, he was also a coward. He might have been able to bully his men with his booming voice and big barrel chest but Jenkins could look into his eye and see that he was soft. He had never seen war outside the classroom and probably hadn't fired a weapon since basic training twenty years ago. Most likely he had a father or uncle who was either Washington brass or a career politician. If he got those satellite access codes he would have to check into the General's past.

"War is always a gamble General. But if we are going to win we have to act. This is your army, not mine. I'm only doing what you hired me to do. Now you can take my advice and try to win this war, or you can listen to Sheen and sit here on your ass and wait for an entire deadfuck army to come marching up Parley's Canyon uncontested."

The General was gazing out the window, his brow furrowed in thought. He was finally starting to listen. Jenkins sat back and stayed silent all the way to the hospital...

Chapter 46.

Tuesday, June 26, 2001 Rainbow Lake, UT 2:38 PM.

Matt shoveled the last bit of dirt onto the grave and patted it down. He stood up straight and stretched his aching back, hearing it pop several times. He glanced at his watch. It was just past 2:30 in the afternoon. It had taken him nearly two hours to bury Adam and Kelly's bodies in the meadow behind their cabin. Rick and Mac had offered to help but Matt had insisted on doing it alone. Along with Zack they had been the closest he had to family. Once again he thanked God for sending him Susan. Matt stretched his back again, surveying the mountains that rose up to the east less than one hundred yards away reflecting on the past week. He was so caught up in thought that he didn't hear Susan come up behind him.

"Does it help?" her voice startled him.

"What?"

"Burying them. Does it help you find peace?" Her fatigues were a bit large, but a belt and her natural fashion sense still made them hug all of her curves. Her M-16 was slung over her shoulder. Her mood was sad and Matt instantly felt guilty. Her father's corpse was probably still lying there in the parking lot of that gas station. It seemed so long ago. Matt tossed the shovel aside and embraced his wife.

"Where are Mac and Rick?"

"On the boat, spying on the neighbors."

They were silent awhile.

"Holding you gives me peace." Matt clutched her tight, drawing strength from her.

"I made this for the grave." In one of her hands was a small wooden cross, adorned with a green Christmas wreath. Inside the wreath was a picture of Adam and Kelly together, smiling and holding hands. She handed it to him and he looked at the picture for several long, quiet moments.

"I like it." He bent down and planted it at the head of the grave.

"This meadow is so peaceful." Susan said, turning to survey the scenery. "The wind and the scents...the forest and the mountains..." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "It reminds me of my favorite Psalm..." Matt stood and embraced her from behind, kissing her neck tenderly before looking over her shoulder.

"Which Psalm is that?" He had never taken her for a bible reader.

"Psalm 23... 'The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his names sake. And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me..." she trailed off. "There's more, but that's my favorite part."

Matt didn't speak, he simply held his wife tighter, praying to God to watch over them...

"I count forty deadfucks, give or take a few." Mac said.

"Agreed." Rick said beside him.

They sat side by side in the rear of the boat, each of them looking through high-powered military binoculars across the lake at their mysterious neighbors. The distance was about a mile and a half and from their position on the lake they had a good view of the beach, boathouse, wooden dock and part of the backyard. There were zombies milling about everywhere.

"Do you think they got over run?"

"Maybe." Mac said. "Something just doesn't feel right."

"It looks to me like they were over run. That headless bastard in the forest was probably running from them but was overwhelmed and had to climb a tree. That's when Zack probably got him."

"You're making plenty of assumptions for not knowing jack shit." Mac snapped sarcastically.

"You got any better ideas?" Neither man had lowered their glasses and still peered across the lake. It was hot and they had shed their flak vests and helmets leaving them in fatigues.

"I don't know what's up, it just feels funny. Why the hell would they be standing around like that and not attacking the house?"

"Maybe everyone was killed when they over ran the house."

"If that were the case those deadfucks would still be worked up, bunched up around the house. Look at them...they just stand there."

They continued to watch the pack of zombies across the lake for several more minutes when suddenly a wave of agitation rippled through the crowd of zombies and they quickly turned to stagger toward the house, their arms raised in anticipation.

"Something got their attention." Rick said.

"If only we knew what."

Within a couple minutes every visible zombie they could see had disappeared from view. Almost three minutes passed before the first faint screams echoed across the lake and reached their ears.

"What the fuck is going on over there?" Rick sounded agitated himself. The agonizing screams were still audible, and as they listened they could make out more than one person screaming. Mac lowered his binoculars and grabbed his radio.

"David do you have a copy?"

"Can you hear that from across the lake?" was David's response.

"We sure can. We were counting deadfucks at the neighbors when they rushed the house. A couple minutes later the screaming started."

"The dogs are howling but there are no zombies." David said.

"You get everybody inside and on guard."

"I've got movement." Rick called before Mac could answer. Rick was still looking across the lake. "Three men, dressed in white hooded robes and carrying AK-47's. They are headed for the boathouse." Mac raised his binoculars to his eyes once again just in time to see the three men, dressed and armed just as Rick had said enter the boathouse.

"What the hell is going on?" Susan exclaimed as she and Matt came running down the dock, gear in hand.

"Listen." Mac said, holding up a hand for them to be silent. The screams of agony could still be heard, as could the wailing siren of the zombie horde. "Let's get going. I want to head south along the shoreline and get a better look at what's going on over there."

Matt, Susan and Mac began to don their flak vests but Rick continued to look through his binoculars.

"The door to their boathouse just opened up...There is a boat coming out." Rick said. The boat was about half the size of theirs, designed for fishing and water skiing and little else. All three figures on the boat wore white robes with the hoods pulled over their heads, their faces lost in the folds. The purring of their engine spread across the water, drowning out the agonizing wails.

"Do you think these guys escaped from the house?" Susan asked.

"They didn't appear to in any hurry getting to the boathouse." Rick said.

"And no deadfucks followed them back either." Mac said.

"You don't think they are superzombies do you?" Susan asked. Matt cringed at the mention of them yet was chilled by her words.

"Don't you even say that Susan!" Rick snapped.

And could she blame him? They had all dealt with the wicked and evil monsters firsthand. Not to mention Ron. How could she forget Ron? Rick must still be devastated by the horrific death of his brother. To become infected like that, your body mutating before your very eyes...Her mind reeled at the thought of it. Ron did the right thing by taking his own life. Her father's death had been tragic, and although only a week had passed, Matt had seen to it that her father would never walk the earth as one of those flesh-eating piles of garbage, giving her and her family some kind of closure. Plus it had been such a whirlwind experience since then that it seemed so long ago.

The boat moved two hundred feet out onto the water slowly, almost cautiously before their engine quieted and the boat came to a stop. The two hooded men in the back shouldered their AK-47's and raised binoculars to their eyes, peering at the home base.

"We're not the only curious ones." Mac said.

Matt grabbed his radio and alerted David of the situation.

One of the white robed men with binoculars began to slowly turn and survey the shore around the rest of the lake. The all watched silently, practically holding their breath as he slowly turned and set his field glasses upon their location. He paused, looking closer, lowered his glasses and looked with the naked eye before raising the binoculars to his eyes once again.

"We're spotted." Rick said.

"Rick, get this boat moving!" Mac snapped, lowering his binoculars and grabbing his rifle. Less than a minute later they were pulling away from the small wooden dock. Mac was riding shotgun while Matt and Susan crouched down behind the rear seats, M-16s at the ready.

"Should I head out and greet them?" Rick asked.

"Not directly. Get a few hundred feet out from shore then swing due south and see if they follow. But keep a good distance." Rick did as instructed. And as expected, the smaller craft angled to intercept them. Rick increased the speed to prevent them from being cut off and the intercepting craft was forced to run parallel with them, over one hundred feet out but angling closer by the second, using the eastern shore on the left to hedge them in.

Mac knew that they could easily outrun the smaller boat so he urged Rick to hold his present speed. When the craft was about fifty feet out Mac stood and waved his hand over his head, a universal maritime greeting. One of the white robed men stood and waved back, pulling the hood back from his face and smiling, the other one had his weapon lowered and appeared non-threatening.

"What do you think?" Mac called to Matt and Susan. They exchanged nervous glances.

"What do you think?" Matt asked back.

"Something feels funny about this." Mac looked back to see that the man had stopped waving and both of them stood with their AK-47's lowered to the deck while the pilot focused wholly on his task.

"I don't like it either. I say we get back home." Rick looked frazzled with stress. The man on the boat waved again and the pilot began to angle his craft closer. "What the fuck is he doing?" Rick's knuckles were white on the throttle control as he exercised all of his willpower to keep from pushing it to the maximum.