Dead Legends (Book 1): R.I.P. Van Winkle by Joseph Coley Read Free Book Online Page B

Fort Drum. As they neared the entrance, Jake took the lead. Rip didn’t like being in the dark, but at the moment he didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of choice. Rip was searching for the words when Jake took care of that problem for him.
    “Let me do the talking, Rip.”
    Rip didn’t have a problem with that. All he wanted right now was to see a familiar face that wasn’t enormously pissed off at him. If the Knights were indeed some of the remnants of the Tenth Mountain, then it was reasonable to assume that he would know someone there. If he did, it would be a great way to reacquaint himself. Jake had done an admirable job so far, but there was plenty that he couldn’t answer. There were bound to be more military left, not just the Tenth Mountain, and it behooved him to find some of them. Maybe it would appease the voices in his head; maybe it was a way to find out what Crayon was talking about. Either way, it would give him something to work towards, and God only knows he needed that.
    Jake rode a few yards ahead of him, greeting the guards and stating their business. Rip was certain that Jake wouldn’t give them the full story; they wouldn’t believe it anyway. Hell, Rip was living it and he didn’t half-believe it.
    As Jake bartered their passage into town, Rip gauged his surroundings. The main gate had been heavily modified and fortified. There was a single guard shack, previously used by the MPs on post, along with a larger tower beside it. The larger tower looked to be a homemade contraption of a ladder on wheels with a tent at the top. The end of the world was evidently being very hard on the creativity of the men in charge. Rip shook his head in disgust. There was no way in hell he would let his men fall into the kind of squalor that was evident around him. The wall that made up the perimeter of Fort Drum looked to be in a little better shape, but not much. Plywood two-by-fours and sheet metal wouldn’t stop a bullet, but might stop the undead.
    A few handshakes later, Jake motioned for Rip to follow. Rip’s horse did not let him down this time, following as it was directed. Once they were safely within the confines of Fort Drum, Jake explained their purpose and why the Marshals had let them pass.
    “Since word doesn’t travel fast around here, I told them you were just passing through. The Marshals we ran into—including your son—haven’t made it back yet. So when we get to Keith Patterson, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to lie low for a while. The Marshals like to keep track of everyone in town, and that includes you. ”
    “So what’s gonna happen when they find out I’m here in town?”
    “I suggest you figure that out before they do. Get in and out and take care of whatever you’re wanting to take care of.”
    Rip sighed deeply. “Well, finding my son and learning that my wife is dead kind of puts a wrinkle in any plans I might have had.” He continued staring ahead, not entirely sure how to move forward. Jeff had always been the strong type; after all, he’d had to endure the constant deployments of his father, along with a home life that hadn’t been the best. Rip and his wife were usually at odds. When they weren’t fighting—and that wasn’t very often—then his father was drinking or gone to another third-world hellhole, unsure whether he would return or not. It had wreaked havoc on their life before, and now that the world had effectively ended, it was no different. Rip tried to absorb his son’s appearance, along with the fact that his wife was dead. As with most things in the last few hours, it wasn’t taking well.
    Then the voices started again.
    You should have known, Rip. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you before.
    Crayon?
    Yeah, Rip. It’s me. We have a lot to talk about, old friend.
    Have another drink, you fucking lush!
    Crayon, who the hell is kicking around their goddamn clumsy feet in my head?
    Not now, Rip, but soon.
    “Here we are. The Knights’