Free Snareville II: Circles by David Youngquist Page A

boot. In the distance, I could hear the troops on the firing line as shots echoed through town.
    “So what’d you say?” Pepper looked up at me. Her big brown eyes full of questions. I smiled and kissed her forehead.
    “I told her she could get married. Hundred and twenty years ago, she’d already be married and have a kid and he’d be working in some mill somewhere.”
    She was quiet for a few steps. “So we’ve reverted that far.”
    “In some ways. Things aren’t the same, Baby. Look at the four of us. Most of us here in town have gone tribal. We’ve doubled up and some of us have tripled up. And I don’t think couples like Jake and Rick will be adding to the population. We’ll survive, but it won’t be the way it was three years ago for a long time.”
    “If ever,” Cherry said from behind us.
    “If ever,” Pepper repeated.

Chapter 9
    As we walked into the library Kenny was sitting at his desk, going over reports. We seemed to have become the central location for the alliance, outside of the Rock Island Arsenal. Our computers were linked through what was left of the internet. My brother, Colonel Tom Jackson, had sent out his engineers to repair as many systems as he could and get them running again, so we could all communicate with one another. Kenny spat daily reports out of his computer to go over. From there, he would make replies if needed, or file away for attention later.
    I introduced him to Wallace and Cherry. We all sat, after some chairs had been dragged in from the other room. Conversation went around the room as we settled. Soon talk turned to the trip. We were successful in getting the mares bred Wallace brought the studs back down here to continue to breed the rest of our mares.
    “Can that militia group get across the river by you, Lieutenant?” Kenny asked.
    “No sir. We blew the center of the bridge deck out between us and Sabula. Little det cord and some C-4 and there’s a nice big hole followed by a drop straight to the water.”
    “What about Dubuque?”
    “Friends own Dubuque. Bridge is well controlled up there. Between Fulton and Clinton, we blew the whole thing. Next stop is the Quad Cities and you folks control those. Only way for them to cross right now is swim or boats.”
    “That would most likely put them on foot then, as I don’t think they could find a ferry to get their equipment across.”
    “Correct, sir. I have the only ferry outside of Minnesota that I know of.”
    “The Mongols?”
    “Used to be a biker gang. Mostly still are. They won’t try us unless they’ve gotten a whole lot bigger. They’re hit and run scavengers.”
    “And that pack of zeds managed to move from Plano to Prophetstown in a week?”
    “That’s what I figure, Kenny,” I said. “There were some people in there from Princeton too, from some of the shirts I saw. I don’t know if that means they’re clustering up somehow, or if they’ve been in the same pack the whole time.”
    “We’ll have to put word out, then and see what our other communities have noticed.” He turned to Wallace. “Now, Lieutenant, supposed you tell me why you rode all the way back down here with Danny?”
    Wallace grinned. “Well, Sir, what if I told you I might have an answer to your zed problem?”
    Kenny sat back in his chair. “I’m all ears, young man.”
    Wallace went on to explain that he was part of the Chemical Weapons Division of the Army National Guard stationed in Galesburg. He used to drive south to his duty weekends when he lived in the Quad Cities. He had moved up to Savanna and rather than transfer to a unit with a different MOS, the military allowed him the extra drive time. He was supposed to report in for duty about the time hell broke loose with the infection and he was trapped up north. He lost contact with his unit and didn’t know how they fared, or even if they were still in existence.
    “So what you’re saying, Lieutenant Wallace, is that if your equipment and gear are still