Ten miles north of Salem, Wyoming, approximately 50 miles west of Laramie, 18 February 2010, 1700 hours local; Countdown: 1 year, 11 months, 12 days

Jim Collins’ eyes focused on the tiny display of his PDA mounted to the forearm of his armor. The picture was grainy, but Jim could make out his childhood-friend-turned-enemy, Alan, and a young woman who looked like a younger Jeannie. Alan stared up with annoyance at the Predator drone circling around the pair. Alan’s hand was clamped firmly on the girl’s upper arm as he dragged her along the mountain trail. Jim didn’t know where Alan thought he was going. There wasn’t anything around there. What was Alan hoping to find?

Alan looked at something beyond the camera. Rage came across his face. He drew a long knife from under his robes. The blade glinted in the sun. Jim watched in horror as Alan yanked the girl up. He slashed the knife across the girl’s arm. Jim saw the blood trickle down the girl’s arm. As he watched the girl scream, Jim was suddenly very thankful the feed from the Predator had no sound. He didn’t think he could take the sound of his daughter in pain.

"Green Six deploy now," Col. Allen said sharply over the radio to one of the units shadowing Alan and Jim’s daughter. The view from the Predator widened quickly, and Jim could see an Army helicopter zooming down at Alan. Alan raised the now-bloody knife at the helicopter. The picture went a brilliant white. Jim hung in his seat by the straps as a wave of sickening power washed over him. It was stronger than anything he felt from the altar. Frantic calls filled the radio net.

"Blue Six report," Col. Allen demanded, forcing the radios quiet.

"Zulu Six, this is Blue Six. Green Six is down. I repeat, Green Six is down," said one of the team leaders with a forced calm, "The target fired some sort of energy weapon. The Blackhawk just exploded, sir." A tense silence followed the team leader’s words. It was broken again by Blue Six. "Sir, the target just destroyed the Predator. Request permission to fall back."

"Do it," Col. Allen said, clearly unhappy with the order. The colonel’s head whipped around to the Zombie Strike team leader. "What just happened Mateo?"

"Very bad magic," Mateo Cortez answered. Col. Allen simply nodded and ordered the helicopter pilot to land where Green Six went down. To his credit, the pilot didn’t say anything. Apparently, Mateo wasn’t the only boss who demanded the impossible on occasion.

"This is why you’re here," Col. Allen said to Mateo. It wasn’t a question, or even an accusation. Just a simple statement of fact.

"Yes Colonel," Mateo answered in the same tone.

"I’m not sending my men into a fight they know nothing about," Col. Allen said, "I’ll get you close, but your people are going to deal with the target."

"Colonel, we aren’t allowed to engage—" Mateo began before the colonel cut him off.

"Don’t even give me that line of BS," Col. Allen said tersely, "I’m still in command of this AO, and you’re still in my employ. You suspected, if not outright knew, something like this was going on. You kept that from me. That annoys me greatly, but I will deal with you afterwards." The helicopter dropped to the ground, landing with a hard thump. The ramp came down and an icy wind filled the cargo compartment. The colonel gestured for the Zombie Strike team to get out of the helicopter.

"Mateo, one last thing," the colonel said as the team filed out of the helicopter, "Don’t get dead." As soon as the team was clear, the helicopter shot up and away from the mountain trail. The mountains were covered with snow. The only break in the white blanket was the burning wreckage of Green Six’s helicopter. Alan and Jim’s daughter were nowhere to be seen. Jim walked down the trail about twenty yards as the team sorted itself out. He remembered this place vividly. It used to be a stock trail in the early days of the state, but now it was used only by hunters and kids looking to go up onto the hills that surrounded the cursed valley. Jim’s mind flashed with realization. He knew where Alan was. Damn, he should have thought about that before. Mateo and Collin walked up to where Jim was crouched next to the trail.

"There’s an old gold mine from the 1880’s about half a mile up the trail," Jim said, "It’s not on any maps, but the kids sometimes go there to party. There won’t be anyone there this time of year."

"I hate fighting underground," Mateo muttered. "Jim, you know the area, so you’ll lead us to the mine. Collin, I want you to pair off with Jim and keep him covered. I’ll bring up the rest of the team. Once we get up to this mine, we’ll reassess." Collin and Jim nodded as Mateo turned back to the others.

"Lead off, boyo," Collin said. After about twenty minutes of hard trekking, Jim and Collin neared the mine’s entrance. Jim stopped as he saw two lumps in the trail. He crouched and slid to the right. Jim took a closer look through his scope.

"What is it mate?" Collin asked as he crouched next to Jim.

"Goats," Jim said, "Two of them in front of the mine."

"We’re stopping for goats?" Collin asked.

"Collin, those are two mature rams sitting next to each other," Jim said, "Rams don’t do that. Plus, there’s no heat coming from either of them, but they’re still moving."

"Zombie goats?" Collin asked, incredulously.

"Looks like it," Jim answered.

"Bloody hell," Collin muttered, "Odd pair of sentries."

"Not when you think about it," Jim said, "A ram’s skull is thick and hard to crack, especially with an M16’s bullet. Those two could probably fend off a platoon of unsuspecting soldiers." Jim slung his carbine and stood up. Taking off his helmet, Jim let out a screeching whistle. The two zombie goats sprang up and charged the two humans.

"What are you doing?" demanded Collin. Jim drew his revolver. The thundering boom echoed as Jim took down the first goat. The second shot missed when the goat slipped on a patch of ice a split second before Jim squeezed the trigger. The third shot took the goat cleanly through the skull. The creature dropped and slid along the icy trail. The rest of the team ran up to Collin and Jim. Mateo listened as Jim calmly explained the encounter while reloading the revolver.

"Alan probably knows we’re here, and we’ve taken care of his little pets," Mateo said, "Jim, I want you and Billy on point. Quentin follows with Collin. Then Jess and me, with The Steve and Sport pulling up the rear. Let’s move fast, but move careful." The team members nodded and fell into their assigned positions. Jim entered the mine with Billy slightly behind and to his left. As Jim took a step into the shadowy mine, he saw some movement. He turned and saw the club an instant before it crashed into his helmet.

Jim felt a bone-numbing cold as he slammed into the rocky floor of the mine. His mind was foggy and nothing seemed to want to move. He could barely turn his head to see his assailant. As he looked up, only one question came to Jim’s mind. Why was he being attacked by Bigfoot? The creature was easily eight feet tall and looked like an upright ape with long dirty white fur. Its face was ape-like except for two yellow tusks protruding from its lower jaw. It clutched a club fashioned from a tree limb in its hand. As it looked down at Jim, the eyes reminded him of an angry bull.

Billy leapt at the monster with a pair of batons in hand. The creature let out an eerie howl as the small man slammed into it and pounded it with a flurry of blows. It lashed out faster than Billy anticipated. Billy caught the massive fist on his forearm guards, but the impact drove him back nearly five feet. The sound of suppressed automatic fire surrounded Jim. He watched as blossoms of red sprouted across the front of the creature’s white pelt. It screamed in pain. Jim saw it lash out with the club and heard Collin grunt in pain. More gunfire shredded the creature’s chest and arms, but it didn’t seem to even slow it down. It attacked, but the team managed to avoid its swinging club. Billy leapt onto its back. With one hand holding the pelt, Billy drew a knife from his belt. Billy stabbed the knife deep into the creature’s back. It let out a brief howl before erupting into an explosion of light and force. Jim was tossed along the ground until he slammed into the wall of the mine.

"Oh, Grandpa’s gonna kill me," Billy muttered as everyone staggered to their feet, "That was his favorite knife."

"What was that?" Quentin asked.

"A nightmare," said an amused voice from the edge of the darkness, "I should have expected the little Indian to have a spirit knife. Oh well, there’s more where that came from." Jim recognized Alan’s taunting.

"Come on down Zombie Strike," Alan said from the darkness, "Everyone is waiting for you." A chorus of moans echoed through the mine. As the team braced, zombies stepped into the light.

Zombie Strike Part 4 Chapter 32

Five miles west of Salem, Wyoming, approximately 50 miles west of Laramie, 18 February 2010, 1600 hours local; Countdown: 1 year, 11 months, 12 days

Jim Collins couldn’t move. He failed so completely, more than he ever thought possible. His enemy had his daughter, had the power of the altar, and was about to unleash some form of hell on the world. Jim watched as Mateo told The Steve to stand guard over him. Jim knew he should get up and help the team as they prepared to stop Alan. His mind told his body to get up off the ground, but it wouldn’t move. He barely noticed as there was some loud talking. Two men in dirty brown police uniforms walked up to Jim and The Steve. Jim knew he should be running. He had been running from these men for over two decades now. Right now, there didn’t seem to be any point. He might as well complete his failure. With a great deal of effort, Jim lifted his head to look at the two officers that were now looming over him.

"Hello Sheriff," Jim said. His voice was drained and flat. Sheriff Jones hadn’t aged well over the past twenty-five years. The tanned face was creased and weathered. The black hair the Sheriff was so proud of had melted into a few wisps of white that peeked out from under the Stetson. Had he shrunk a few inches as well? Jim looked over at the deputy standing next to the sheriff. The deputy was the spitting image of Sheriff Jones some thirty years ago. So, this was Hal Jones, the heir to the throne. From the malicious gleam in the younger Jones’s eyes, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

"Well Nathan West, as I live and breathe," Sheriff Jones said with an evil amusement. A crooked face danced across the sheriff’s face. "I never thought I’d see you in these parts again. You must be one of the dumbest criminals I’ve ever had the pleasure of arresting." Hal let out a snicker. Jim looked at the sheriff. A part of him screamed to get up. He had to fight. He couldn’t let this happen this way. Then came the crashing guilt, shame, and hopelessness. He was done. Letting the sheriff cart him away on those trumped up charges would put the perfect end on his failure.

"I’ve waited twenty-five years to do this," Sheriff Jones hissed, "Hal, take him."

"Sure thing," Hal said, reaching behind him for his handcuffs. Hal took a step with the silver manacles in his outstretched hand. Then, he stopped with a look of unbelief and fear on his face. It took Jim a moment to realize that The Steve was pointing his Kimber .45 at the younger Jones’s head.

"The Steve thinks you might want to back off," The Steve said in his normal happy tone. The cheery voice added to the tension. The sheriff fumbled for his pistol. Mateo and Billy appeared with their sidearms drawn and pointed at the two officers. Billy’s dark features were a blank mask, but Mateo regarded the sheriff like a man would a cockroach. Sheriff Jones went red with righteous indignation. Faced with three zombie hunters, the sheriff should have just backed down. Instead he acted the same way he always did.

"You boys might want to think about what you’re doing," the sheriff said in his best intimidating voice. Jim remembered how that voice terrified him so long ago. Now, it just seemed weak. The pistols didn’t waver, so the sheriff threw down the law. "You are threatening officers of the peace and harboring a man wanted for murder. Keep this up, and you’ll be spending the rest of your lives behind bars." Something clicked in Jim’s mind, and his paralysis vanished. It was one thing for Jim to pay for his failure, but he couldn’t let his friends do this. Jones was a vindictive and petty man. He could make life rough for the team. He could keep it from completing their mission. Jones wouldn’t care about an apocalypse. All he would care about was taking revenge on those who humiliated him. Jim stood up off the ground.

"Matt, stop," Jim pleaded, "There’s no need for this." Jim took a step toward his team leader, but Mateo kept his eyes on the sheriff and his son. Jim tried again. "Listen to me, I’ll go with them. You need to go find my daughter. Time is running out. I’m not worth this."

"Yeah, that sounds good," the sheriff blurted out, trying to seize the chance to end the confrontation. "You let me take Nate in, and I’ll forget about all of this. Friends have to protect their own after all." Jim knew Sheriff Jones wouldn’t just let any of the team go. Not after this. Still, Jim needed to give the team time. Time enough to find Alan and his daughter. Time to stop whatever Alan was going to do.

"I don’t think so," Mateo answered with a tone colder than winter. Mateo holstered his pistol. He took a few steps towards the sheriff, his boots crunching the snow and ice under his feet. "You see, here’s the thing. We work for an insurance firm. One of the oldest and largest. The kind of firm that can afford to hire the best investigators." Mateo’s dark eyes bored into the older man’s.

"Funny thing about insurance firms, they like to know who they’re hiring," Mateo continued, "It took a bit of time, but we found out everything about what happened. We know that you framed my man and stole his life from him." The sheriff stood stunned. Mateo’s words hit the man like a baseball bat.

"Oh yeah, we know who killed Sonny Smith. We have the evidence you thought you’d destroyed," Mateo said, his cold tone melting into a malicious warmth, "Now, you have a choice. You can let Jim Collins do his job and save your little town from someone who is truly evil. Or, you can try and take Nate West in and have everything we know come out into the light of day. Better decide fast though. Time is running out." Jim watched in amazed fascination as the man that terrorized him for years broke down under Mateo’s words. Eternal seconds ticked by as Sheriff Jones searched Mateo for any sign of mercy or weakness. There was none. Finding no way out, the sheriff slumped down and waved the team on. He couldn’t even form words.

"No!" bellowed Hal, vibrating with anger. His hand shot down to his holster. Before the young man could draw his pistol, Billy had him on the ground. Billy contemptuously pinned the larger man on the ground and zip tied him.

"As my friend Collin would say, bloody bad move, mate," Billy said into Hal’s ear. Hal struggled a bit, but Billy simply tightened the zip ties and slapped the back of Hal’s head. "You keep fighting, and things are going to get worse." There was a promise of violence in Billy’s voice. Hal went limp. The Steve and Billy escorted the sheriff and his son back to their cruiser.

"Um, Matt," Jim started, and then stopped. Jim was elated, grateful, ashamed, and scared. The emotions threatened to tear him apart. Mateo gave Jim a look and held up his hand.

"I told you before Jim, a man needs his secrets," Mateo said, "I was waiting for you to come to me about it. Maybe ask for our help. I probably should’ve forced the issue before we got here, especially in light of what’s happened, but that’s not important right now. We’ve got to stop Alan."

"How?" Jim demanded, "We don’t even know where he is." Mateo started to say something, but stopped as the steady thrum of helicopter blades filled the area. A large helicopter roared over the team’s heads to land some fifty yards away. Soldiers in full battle gear stormed off as a ramp was lowered from the rear of the helicopter. The last man wore simple BDU’s. Jim recognized him as Col. Bull Allen, the commander of the Army’s anti-zombie forces.

"Seems Alan screwed up and let his little rant be picked up by the Army," Mateo explained as the colonel strode over to where Zombie Strike had congregated. "Soldiers have this thing about young women being taken to be murdered in evil rituals." Jim swallowed back a wave of emotion. Col. Allen saluted as he neared the group. The colonel’s hard face softened as he looked at Jim.

"Mr. Collins, we’ve found them," the officer reported, "Your daughter and the target is maybe fifteen miles from here. We’ve got a Predator tracking them right now. My boys are shadowing them, waiting to engage." The officer turned to Mateo. "Load your team in the chopper, Mr. Cortez. Don’t want to keep him waiting."

"Everyone load up," Mateo ordered. As they climbed into the helicopter, they were met by the rest of their team. All of them were grim faced and ready for combat.

"Come on Jim," Mateo said, "Let’s go get your little girl."

Zombie Strike Part 4 Chapter 31