Chapter 7 Kole
seven
Kole
Two weeks after Tom's visit, and we're on our first supply run together to Old Pines.
The morning started easy, with clear skies, good visibility, no signs of trouble. We made good time down the mountain trail, Sierra keeping pace beside me.
"Think Tom's stocked those coffee beans he promised?" she asks, adjusting her pack.
"If he hasn't, we're raiding his personal supply."
"I like how you think."
We're about five miles from Old Pines when I smell it. Smoke. Not campfire smoke—something bigger, nastier.
Sierra catches it at the same time, her hand going to her rifle. "That's not good."
"No." I scan the tree line, looking for the source. "Could be a controlled burn."
"You don't believe that."
"No, I don't."
We approach cautiously, using the cover of the forest. As we get closer, I can hear it—gunfire, sporadic but sustained. And underneath that, the distinctive sound of zombies. Lots of them.
"Old Pines is under attack," Sierra says, already moving faster.
I grab her arm. "We don't know what we're walking into."
"Tom's in there. Sarah, Jim, Janet. We can't just—"
"We won't. But we go in smart." I pull out my binoculars, scanning the settlement from our elevated position.
The scene is chaos. A herd of maybe fifty zombies is pressing against Old Pines' western fence. That alone wouldn't be catastrophic—the settlement has dealt with herds before. But there are people on the outside of the fence, living people, driving the zombies forward with noise makers and flares.
"Raiders," Sierra breathes. "They're using the herd as a battering ram."
"Smart." I hate that it's effective. "And see there? They've got people positioned on the high ground, waiting to breach once the fence falls."
"So what do we do?"
I think fast. The settlement has maybe ten minutes before that fence gives way. Once it does, the raiders will flood in behind the zombies, and Old Pines won't stand a chance.
"We take out the raiders controlling the herd. Without direction, the zombies will scatter."
"There are at least six of them."
"I count seven. But we have surprise and elevation."
Sierra's already unslingling her rifle. "I'll take the ones on the left flank. You take the right and center."
"You sure you can make those shots?"
She gives me a look that says she's not dignifying that with an answer.
"Right. On three?"
"On three."
I count down, and we fire simultaneously. My first shot drops the raider with the air horn. Sierra's takes down the one with the flare gun. We work methodically—I take two more on the right, she gets another on the left.
The remaining raiders realize they're under fire, but they can't tell where from. One tries to run. Sierra drops him. The last one makes it to cover behind a tree, but he's abandoned the herd control.
Without the noise makers and flares, the zombies lose their direction. They mill around, some wandering toward the settlement, others drifting away into the forest.
"Movement, east side," Sierra says.
I swing my scope over and curse. "Another group. Four more coming in with a battering ram."
"They're trying to breach the gate while everyone's focused on the herd."
"Can you see if you can raise Old Pines on the radio? Warn them?"
Sierra tries, but there's too much interference—probably intentional jamming. These raiders are more organized than I thought.
"We need to get closer," she says.
"Agreed."
We move down the mountainside, staying in cover. The settlement's defenders are managing to thin the herd with carefully aimed shots, but they haven't seen the battering ram group yet.
"There," I point to a rock outcropping that'll give us a clear shot at the gate. "We can stop them from there."
We're halfway there when everything goes to shit.
One of the wandering zombies catches our scent. It moans, and suddenly we've got five of the dead bastards coming at us through the trees.
"Contact!" Sierra shouts, already firing.
I drop two with headshots, but more are coming, drawn by the noise. We're caught in the open, Old Pines' defenders can't help us, and the raider battering ram team is almost at the gate.
"Run!" I grab Sierra's hand and we sprint for the outcropping. The zombies are faster than they should be—these aren't the shambling kind, these are fresh enough to still have speed.
We make it to the rocks with seconds to spare. I boost Sierra up first, then haul myself up as dead hands grab at my boots. One gets a hold, and I have to stomp its face in to break free.
"Jesus," Sierra pants, reloading. "That was close."
"Tell me about it." I focus on the battering ram team. They're at the gate now, three men swinging a massive log while the fourth provides covering fire. "We need to stop them."
"I've got the shooter." Sierra lines up her shot. "You take the ram carriers on my mark."
She fires, and the covering shooter goes down. I immediately start dropping the ram carriers—one, two. The third tries to pick up the ram alone, and Sierra's second shot stops him.
The fourth raider—the one we saw take cover earlier—suddenly appears from behind the fence, rifle raised.
"Sierra, down!"
I tackle her as bullets ping off the rocks where her head was a second ago. We're pinned, and the raider has a clean angle on our position.
Then Old Pines' gate opens, and Tom comes charging out with three others, weapons blazing. The raider goes down.
"Clear!" Tom shouts up to us.
The remaining zombies are being systematically eliminated by the settlement's defenders. No more raiders appear. The attack is over.
An hour later, we're inside Old Pines, helping tend to the wounded. The settlement took casualties, but it could have been much worse.
"You two saved our asses," Tom says, passing me coffee. Real coffee, not the instant shit we've been drinking. "We didn't see the second group until they were on top of us."
"How organized were they?" I ask. "Radio jamming, coordinated attack, using the herd as a weapon—that's not your average raiders."
"They've been hitting settlements up and down the valley," the doctor says, wrapping a bandage around a defender's arm. "Same pattern every time. Use zombies to distract, breach during the chaos."
"Someone's training them," Sierra observes. "Teaching them tactics."
"We think it's a group called the Iron Wolves," Janet adds. "At least that's what one of them said before he died. They're trying to wipe out the settlements, claim the territory for themselves."
"Have they hit other places?" I ask.
"Three in the last month. We're lucky—we survived. The others didn't."
I look at Sierra, and I can see her thinking the same thing I am. Our mountain is isolated, but these Iron Wolves are moving north. It's only a matter of time before they find us.
"We need better coordination," Sierra says. "Real-time communication during attacks, not just morning check-ins."
"Agreed," Tom says. "But how? We don't have the infrastructure."
"We build it." Sierra's already in problem-solving mode. "Emergency frequencies, relay protocols, designated backup channels. If we're going to survive this, we need to actually work together, not just chat."
"You volunteering to set that up?" Tom asks.
Sierra looks at me, and I nod. We're committed now, whether I like it or not.
"Yeah," she says. "We are."
That night, we camped outside Old Pines rather than staying in the settlement. Too many people, too much noise after the attack. I need space to think.
"You okay?" Sierra asks, sitting beside me by the fire.
"Thinking about what you said. About building the infrastructure."
"Having second thoughts?"
"No. Just... it's a big commitment. Changes everything."
"We can handle it."
"Can we?" I look at her. "These Wolves, whoever they are, they're not going away. And if we set up a real communication network, we'll be targets. They'll want to take us out first."
"Then we make sure they can't. I'm not naive. I know this is dangerous. But doing nothing is more dangerous. Those settlements that got wiped out? They were alone. They had no warning, no backup, no way to call for help." She takes my hand. "We can change that."
"It'll mean more runs. More time away from the mountain. More exposure."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Are you?"
I think about it. About the isolation I maintained for three years, and how it kept me safe but also kept me alone. About the people in Old Pines who survived today because Sierra and I were here. About building something that might actually last.
"Yeah," I say finally. "I'm okay with that."
"Good." She leans into me. "Besides, you're not getting rid of me that easily."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the fire. Tomorrow, we'll head back to the mountain and start building a real communication network. We'll become targets. We'll be taking on more risk than ever.
But we'll be doing it together.
And somehow, that makes it worth it.