Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation by Joshua Jared Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

from
embarrassment.”
    I would
ask Briana to speak with her, but their relationship was like that of sisters. My
sweetie would side with the twerp.
    “I’m
solid up to five or six hundred yards, under proper conditions and if I have
the gun braced on something. Most of the militia members are lifelong hunters,
and we have them practice at between two hundred and five hundred yards.” I
noted his quizzical expression. “We found a long stretch of road and drew a
firing line at one end. Then there’s another white line at every hundred yard
mark up to five hundred. We move our targets back and forth.”
    Mary
pulled some beef jerky from a pouch on her belt. “They get moved every day too.
We roll dice, for real, to see where.”
    “We do
change the ranges daily, to keep people from getting into a rhythm.”
    “Good
plan,” he acknowledged. “And while I’m thinking about it, Captain Briggs thinks
we should give you the rank of captain while the Black Hills militia is in the
field.”
    “He
should be a general,” protested Mary, only half-jokingly, “or a field marshal.”
    “There
are no field marshal’s in the United States,” I commented. “You know that.”
    “There
are in Stratego .”
    “This
isn’t a board game.” I tousled her hair, and Mary slapped my hand away. “I’ll
be going by my name. We have positions and ranks in the militia we set up, but
we don’t use them in any sort of formal way, more for bookkeeping. Considering
how few we are, it’s first name all the time.”
    “Whatever
works best,” said Gikas, apparently disinclined to argue and more than a little
disapproving.
    Both the
lieutenant and captain were quite formal, as were many of the other soldiers in
Yellowstone. Those who’d ended up with us tended to be much more relaxed. They
sometimes saluted one another, but even that was dying out. There were less
than a dozen in the Black Hills at present, with the most senior being a
sergeant. The way we were affecting their discipline was probably not for the
best.
    “More of
the raiders were spotted yesterday, including some children.” Gikas checked
something on his clipboard. It was the old fashioned sort.
    “Similar
to the last time,” I murmured.
    “How
so?” asked Mary.
    “Remember
how they were split up at first and then banded together before hitting Salt
Lake City?”
    She
nodded.
    “After
they did that, their families were all put in one place and kept there while
they made war on the Ranching Collective and us. Then the raiders split up, and
so did the non-combatants. Well, they are gathering together again, so it
stands to reason that their loved ones will be placed in a single group, to
keep them out of the way and safe.” I turned toward Gikas. “Last time they
fought from Rawlins in Wyoming while they left their kids several hundred miles
away in Utah.”
    “From
what we’ve seen recently, they can’t be more than fifty or sixty miles off.”
    “That
doesn’t fit the pattern,” I acknowledged, “but I still think they will be in a
single large group prior to any attacks.”
    “I bet
they’re worried zombies will get em,” said Mary. “Things are worse than before,
so they want to be able to help if something bad happens.”
    “Could
be. The things are everywhere.”
     
    *
* *
     
    We were
almost back to the Jeep – it had been parked on a dirt track a good five miles
from the spot we’d be fortifying – when some locals rushed over to speak with us.
    “Did you
see it?”
    “See
what?”
    I had no
idea what they were talking about.
    “The
tiger!”
    We all
stopped.
    “A
tiger?” asked Mary. “As in orange with stripes?”
    One of
the men nodded. “It was a big one. We were checking our snares when it ran
past, grabbed one of the rabbits we caught, and darted off.”
    I
smiled. “That would be something to see. It didn’t hurt anyone, did it?”
    He shook
his head. “Nah. Just took our dinner and ran away.”
    “I’ll
let the