AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you have all been enjoying the story. To all my faithful readers, congrats, you've made it to the last chapter! I thank you for all of your kind comments and reviews. If you liked the story, please do submit a review and let me know what you thought about it. I'm working on a prequel to this, covering the No Mercy up to Blood Harvest period, so please keep an eye out for it, I should be posting the first parts of it soon. This portion of the story takes place many years after the last chapter.
Francis pulled into the farmyard and jumped off his Harley, parking it next to the red Ducati, looking around at the surrounding fields. The years had changed him little, he was as muscular as ever, maybe a little thicker in the waist. He still kept his hair cropped close, although it was mostly gray now. He pulled off his heavy leather police jacket and slung it on the chromed out hog.
He walked across the yard towards the barn and machine shop. A couple of huge black dogs bounded across the yard, wagging their tails happily. He stopped to pat them as they both repeatedly bashed their heads against him affectionately.
"Watson, Sherlock! You're gonna break my freakin' hip one of these days!" he said as he ruffled their ears. "Where's the kid?"
They grinned and galloped into the machine shop as he followed after. Hunched under the hood of a UTV was a carbon copy of Francis. Nearly as tall as his dad, but not yet as heavily muscled, he straightened when Francis clapped him on the back. He turned, looking at Francis with piercing blue eyes, one of the few things he shared with his mother, aside from his nearly blonde hair, closely cropped like his father's.
"Hey, Pop! How ya doin'?" He looked up with a familiar crooked grin as he wiped his hands on an oily rag. "This sucker's actin' up again. I'm gonna have to scavenge some parts from the old rig."
Francis leaned back against the fender. "Do whatever you gotta do, we're gonna need it soon. As long as the tractor keeps cranking along we should be good for now. Finish up, son, I'm gonna start supper soon. Where's mom?"
The boy looked down at the ground, kicking the oily dirt, "You're not gonna be happy…she took Romeo out, I saw her galloping down by the cornfields. She should be back pretty soon, it's been a while."
Francis scowled, "Goddammit! I thought we settled this…It's too dangerous to go out alone like that! What the hell are we gonna do with her? Shit! Saddle up Magnum for me, you take Indy, I'm gonna get the rifles." He shook his head angrily as he headed toward the house, he really was NOT in the mood for this. He just wanted to eat dinner and kick back with a beer. Just then, he heard the drumming of hoofbeats. Looking around, he spotted a horse and rider cantering across a field, jumping a wide ditch, then leaping over an ascending oxer built into the field fence. They proceeded at a hand gallop toward the yard, then leapt the large hedge bordering the yard, coming to a clattering halt a short distance away.
Francis stood with arms crossed, scowling fiercely. The rider jumped down, loosened the girth and led the stallion towards him, limping slightly. She took her helmet off and buckled it to the saddle, as she made her way up to him. The years hadn't changed her much either. She looked exactly the same as ever, the martial arts classes she taught, and the regular riding kept her fit enough. Her hair had not yet grayed, but she was starting to get some wrinkles, particularly where she smiled.
He eyed her, scowling, the mud on her side, back and helmet, along with the limp told him everything he needed to know. "Again, really?! Are you trying to kill yourself, or what?"
She gave him a crooked grin as she stopped in front of him and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. The horse leaned past her and stuck his face in, lipping at Francis' ear. She laughed, "See, even Romeo wants to kiss you! How can you be mad at us now?"
He sighed, leaning over to kiss her properly while simultaneously fending off the equine affection. "Please, I'm begging you…wait until one of us can go with you! If you get hurt or run into some infected out there, nobody's gonna be there to help! You gotta stop doin' this, ok?"
She turned and ran the stirrups up and began leading the horse in a circle around him. "Francis, you know nobody can keep up. There's no point, anyone coming along will be left in the dust or I'll have to ride like I'm on a kid's pony ride, bored stiff. I can't leg up horses by leisurely strolling around. I stayed on the property, OK?"
"No, not OK. I'm gonna hire one of those girls you trained to go out with you, they can keep up and then you can do two horses at once. And stop limping around with that damned animal." He turned toward the machine shop and bellowed. "Will! Come help your mother!"
"Busy, Pop!" the boy yelled back.
"William Overbeck Liddell! Get your tail over here NOW!" Francis roared. His son ran out immediately, skidding to a stop near him. He looked up at Francis with an apologetic expression.
"Walk Romeo out and untack him, please. SOMEBODY'S had another fall, I'm gonna patch her up, AGAIN…" he looked at her, shaking his head. "Come on…" He leaned over to scoop her up.
"Francis!" she protested as he pulled her into his arms. "You don't have to do that, I can get there under my own power, you know." She sighed in resignation as he carried her into the old farmhouse.
"It's just like old times, can't resist it. You, doing some boneheaded thing. Me, having to scrape you off the ground, lug you off and patch you back together. Some things just never change, darlin'." He grinned at her, shaking his head. He laid her down on the couch, kneeling down next to her.
"One of these days, there ain't gonna be enough left to scrape off the ground, unless you're more careful…" He frowned down at her as he took a closer look at the damage.
She ruffled his hair with a wry smile. "You worry too much, law man. You forget that I'm damned near invincible. What more do I have to do to prove it to you?"
"Hmmm…if you're so invincible, why are you gimping around?" he asked, his brow arched.
She shrugged, "Slipped on the approach to that uphill Trakehner, Romeo tipped over on me. I twisted my back a little, no big deal. Don't need to make a federal case out of it. Just leave me here and go get your dinner, OK? I'm fine."
"No you're not. You always say that, and it's never true. Hang on, I'll start supper and be right back with some ice." He went off to the kitchen and started some water boiling and got out some chicken.
He could never get too angry with her, no matter what she did, he owed her too much. He thought back to the night Will was born, as he started prepping the meal. The pregnancy had been a nightmare, with so many complications. She was sick as a dog for most of it and in constant pain from her back injury. It all eventually ended in an emergency c-section that didn't go well. She sacrificed nearly everything to give him a son. The baby came through with flying colors, but she almost didn't make it. He remembered holding Will as he sat near her bed, watching in helpless despair as she slowly faded away. Another emergency surgery, which ensured William would be her last child, tipped the scales in her favor and she eventually pulled through. It was a tough start for Will, having to rely solely on Francis until Doc was well enough to help care for him, but he managed to get through it. Of course, he had plenty of support from Zoey and Louis and the others, as well as some friends he'd made among the colonists. Turns out, once he quit glowering down at them, people actually liked him and he easily made friends.
He got some ice out for her, then stopped in the laundry room to get some shorts and a shirt for her to change out of her muddy riding clothes. He helped her change, noting a big scrape on her side and back and some bruising on her shoulder. If he looked closely, he could still see the scars from many years ago scattered among her tattoos, bullet wounds mixed with wounds from those damned vampires, a huge scar from that nasty abscess. He shook his head with a wry smile, it was like a map of her past adventures. He applied the ice wrapped in a towel to her back, then went off to go get the antiseptic and some ointment for the scrapes. She really should just keep the stuff in her pocket since she was still a regular user, he thought to himself. Their little farm seemed to offer her endless opportunities for injuries.
They had been one of the first ones to move out of the colony compound, once they had virtually eradicated the infected from the surrounding area. Doc had been a big part of that. During the long months that she was laid up in bed, she figured out how they had made the virus and came up with a strategy to neutralize it. The solution she came up with was quite clever, using a virus to fight a virus. She was able to obtain some insect baculovirus from a nearby abandoned research facility and adapt it to target infected. By infecting flies that were attracted to rotted flesh, they were able to use them as a vector to carry the modified virus which she designed. Any zombie bitten by the flies became infected with the modified virus, which encoded proteins which interacted with the Green Flu virus and caused the zombie's organs to liquefy. They literally melted into bags of inert goo within days of infection. Any wild flies that bit the infected zombies would also carry the new virus, helping to spread it. Each year they released virus carrying flies on the boundaries of the territory they had already cleared, resulting in the colony recovering hundreds of acres every year.
Since then, colonists had gradually been spreading out from the colony, retaking the land from the undead. They farmed and provided food for the other colonists. Francis and Doc had used their farm to raise beef, poultry and eggs, horses as well as dogs, all descendants of the original Argos, specially trained to protect livestock and hunt zombies. Doc did most of the training, she used the horses to keep up with the dogs during the hunts. Every year they did large organized hunts through the recovered territories to eradicate any zombies that hadn't been killed by the newly engineered virus.
Francis remained the chief of police for the colony and its immediate surrounding territory. Over the years he'd discovered his hidden talents in getting people to resolve their little differences. In the next few years he hoped to retire and work with Doc on their little farm. He would miss the police work, but it was really getting to be a much bigger responsibility as the colonists multiplied and spread out, perfect for a couple of younger guys. He could barely believe it, but he'd already celebrated his 50th birthday. In the midst of the apocalypse, he would have taken any bet that he wouldn't see 37, but here he was. And he never forgot that one of the main reasons he was still kicking around was lying all dinged up on the couch out there.
He started the chicken cooking and headed back to the couch. "Hey, darlin', how's it feelin'?"
She scooted over to give him room to sit down. "It's ok, probably be pretty sore tomorrow though. It's tough getting old." She smiled back at him.
He spread ointment on the scrapes. "Yeah, I know the feelin'. I still can't believe I'm fifty. And you're what now?" He gave her a little smirk. He didn't know how old she was, she steadfastly refused to tell him. Given all the little clues he'd discovered over the years, he figured that she might be a couple years older than he was. At this point he actually looked a bit older than she did, due to the graying hair. It was Doc's little secret that she was actually almost ten years older than Francis, she looked much younger than her true age.
"Wow, that might be your lamest attempt so far to weasel my age out of me." She laughed and stretched out. "What difference does it make, anyway, at this point? Afraid I'll start looking for somebody my own age? Never happen, cowboy. We have way too much chemistry, and history." She rolled toward him and pulled him down for a kiss. He began to kiss her deeply as he ran his hand along her soft skin.
"Ughh. Would you two give it a rest?" Will strode past the couch, shielding his eyes from the sight of them kissing and touching each other. "Geez, get a room or somethin'."
They both just laughed, thinking back about how often they heard that, years ago in the tiny little safe-rooms. If they had paid much mind to it, Will probably wouldn't even be standing there. Francis replied, "Hell, son, we have a whole house here with lots of rooms. You can always find a different one if we're botherin' you." Will just rolled his eyes as he smiled back at them, he was just teasing, he knew they truly loved each other and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Francis grinned back at him, then leaned over and kissed her some more. He couldn't help thinking that, as strange as it might seem, the zombie apocalypse was the best thing that ever happened to him. He went through a complete transformation from an antisocial, vicious, thug into a respected and well-loved member of the community, with the best family and friends a man could ask for, and it only took one of the worst disasters to ever hit mankind to get it done.