by Won, Mark
No sooner had all the zombies began moving away from me then everyone else popped up and began tossing burning bottles into the zombies’ midst. A couple of deputies were firing their weapons point blank into the face of the horde.
Meanwhile, I had caught my breath and launched myself at the backs of the zombies which had turned away from me, the ones that were trying to reach my friends. Fortunately, the incendiaries began arcing over my head and into the mass of zombies trying to close with me from all other directions.
I hacked and slashed my way through the zombies in my path until I reached my friends. There was a burning wall of fire to my right and left and back but everybody had been careful to leave me a route through (Melissa and Neil had worked at clearing that narrow path of retreat by using their shotguns). The zombies which had closed with Steven and Hunter couldn’t climb up to them, so they were easy pickings for Norm (who was still using his bow). While I watched everyone having fun throwing fire, a car exploded, and then another. The sheriff called out that it was time to leave so I reached down and grabbed one of the last Molotov cocktails and threw it into the space everyone had left for me to escape through.
By the time we had reached the relative safety of our vehicles, we could see that we had set off a bit of a chain reaction. One exploding gas tank had lead to another, with fire leaping from car to car, until the general conflagration had consumed the better part of the mass car wreckage before us. The road was still totally blocked but it was lovely to behold. You might even say it warmed my heart.
I kept looking around but didn’t see the kids. I did see Tracer. He had followed me out of the motor home on my initial charge but none of the monsters had considered him to be worth the trouble to kill, and I’d lost track of him sometime during the fight. I think I remember ordering him to ‘stay’ but I can’t be sure.
Anyhow, I called out, “Where’s the kids?” I would have been very disappointed if my efforts had been in vain. To think that I had survived the children, after all, would have been too bitter a pill to swallow.
Mr. Reese spoke up, “Miranda went into the woods after Keisha and Jan went looking for Lin.”
Just then Keisha broke through the trees with her mother and Jason at her side. They were pursued, but not in any meaningful way. I quick drew Zippy and finished off the four pursuing zombies before turning to Tracer. I told him, “Find Lin,” and pointed off to the side of the road in the direction she had fled. He was off in a snap and I was after him.
I wasn’t the only one. Sheriff Slim and his son, Jason, followed us. The sheriff called back for everyone to get ready to leave as soon as we returned.
The first person we came across was Lin’s mom, Jan (Mrs. Seltzer). At first I thought that Tracer had made some kind of mistake, but then I realized we’d stumbled upon her by happenstance. She was beside herself with fear and completely turned around. The sheriff had her accompany us, feeling there would be no sense in finding the daughter only to lose the mother.
Tracer led us through the forest until we came to a steep banked stream. Lin had fallen into the water, which was only up to her knees, and by the time we saw her she was trying to back away from a couple zombies that had attempted to follow her. On the opposite bank there were another twenty or so zombies looking like they were afraid to get their feet wet. As I watched they seemed to be overcoming their reluctance.
A funny thing about zombies (and ghouls and ogres) is how they don’t trust crossing water. Mark told me that was because they’re too stupid to figure out when its safe for them. And by ‘safe’ he meant ‘not so deep that they’d get completely lost’. If zombies had no problems braving the depths then I’d gladly hang out off shore in a rowboat, and lure the coastal zombie hordes into a briny irrelevance.
The trouble with all that, in my current circumstances, was that the shambling horrors could clearly see the bottom of the stream, and even something with only a rotted excuse for a demon possessed brain could figure out the nonexistent threat level given enough time. That was why, even as I watched, a few more began to brave the ‘depths’.
Sheriff Slim immediately jumped down the three foot bank and into the stream, and began attacking using his claw hammer. No sooner had the first zombie fallen then we heard shots ringing out from beyond the zombies standing on the bank. Someone back there was lending us a hand by shooting at the zombies from behind. I saw one zombie get shot in the neck and another fell from a head wound.
I told Tracer to ‘stay’ and jumped down the bank after the sheriff. That’s when I first noticed that Keisha had come running after us. I had no idea why she had followed us; her mom would be so pissed. Jason remained near Jan (Mrs. Seltzer) and Keisha and began using his rifle. Between the sheriff and I we cleared out the five zombies which had managed to overcome their aquaphobia, and then we turned to help Lin up over the stream bank. Our unseen ally was maintaining an unbroken fusillade, repeatedly decimating the enemy ranks. The zombies trying to reach us had yet to figure out that someone was shooting at them from behind. I wondered if they wondered why all their zombie buddies were dropping around them.
Due to the forest and the sloping nature of the terrain we had yet to see our friend on the other side of the river. He stopped firing for five or six seconds before getting right back at it. It sounded like there was only one shooter with a .45 caliber semi automatic, but that was just a guess. By the time we all managed to crest the bank all the zombies had their brains floating slowly downstream, buoyantly carried along by the beck’s whimsical current.
On our side of the water the situation didn’t look so good. Some stray fire had hit Keisha and she was bleeding badly from a sucking chest wound. Jan and Connor were both crouched over her trying to staunch the flow, but I could see it was hopeless. Jason was trying to hold her hand while the tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. Uncle had taught me all about sucking chest wounds, and his main lesson centered around how to die well if you ever got one. We needed a doctor immediately and that didn’t seem too likely.
While all the adults were carrying on I said a quick prayer for my friend’s immortal soul (and threw in a quick request for a miracle, just in case God was feeling generous), and kept watch. After a few seconds a skinny man brandishing an old fashioned Thompson submachine gun came into view on the other side of the stream. I waved to him and pointed at my fallen friend.
I called across the stream, “Thanks for your help. I don’t suppose you’re a doctor with a full medical bag, are you?” As you’ve probably noticed, I’m the kind of guy who likes to live in hope.
He ran into the water on his side (the bank was only a foot high there) and came charging across the way to see what he’d done. The man was old, maybe thirty or fifty years old, with a scraggly looking beard that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be there or not. He was wearing camouflage hunter’s gear with a camouflage pack on his back and a camouflage cap on his head. On his chest were a number of thirty round clips for the Tommy gun, and one empty hundred round drum (Uncle had been making a Tommy gun for me just before he got sick, I still had the parts with Blue).
As soon as he got with us he said, “We gotta hurry, I know a veterinarian!”
Connor picked up Keisha. Then our new friend, who had just shot Keisha, began leading the sheriff and his son, Jason, back across the stream, presumably to meet his doctor pal. I decided someone needed to stay with Lin and Jan to lead them back to the road. I didn’t know how long all that burning car wreckage would last but I had the feeling that we might be running out of time.
On our way back we ran into four more zombies, but I gunned them down with Bob (I had yet to reload Zippy). Next there was Mr. Reese, who’d seen his daughter run off after us and had, naturally enough, come looking for her. I filled him in on the way back to the group. He wasn’t too happy about the turn of events but managed to keep it together. All that running around was beginning to get me tired, and I sure hoped there wouldn’t be any more dancing with th
e girls until after I’d taken a nap.
Once back at the road I informed everyone of the situation and told them to follow me. Miranda (Mrs. Reese) almost collapsed after hearing that her daughter was shot. All that kept her going was that her other kid, Thomas, needed her. We all grabbed everything we could and went back into the woods, following Connor’s trail. We crossed the stream and made our way through a back woodsy way until we came to a big ranch style wooden fence. The kind with standing posts joined by a couple of wooden beams every six feet or so. Not a great zombie barrier but better than nothing, I suppose. There was a stile crossing the fence and on the other side was a wide field with a bunch of cattle moving around munching on the grass. They didn’t even look up as we crossed over.
A hundred yards away there was a big old farm house with an unattached garage and a big barn behind the house. Off to the side of the barn was a thing that looked like a big narrow house for cows, and beyond that some smaller buildings of an indeterminate nature (I don’t really know all that much about farms). There was a tall windmill in front of the house, the kind used for making electricity, and another one, the kind used for pumping water, set back on a low rise of land off to our left. I could see a long looking gravel driveway that led off through some trees, I guessed to a road.
We kept going up to the house and some folks were outside to greet us. They seemed like a friendly bunch. I remember thinking it was lucky for them we weren’t a bunch of nutty bandits. I suppose it was lucky for us that they weren’t bandits, too.
Mr. and Mrs. Reese ran inside to be with their daughter while we asked for news about Keisha. What we learned was that the doc was doing surgery but things didn’t look too good. Edmond Saxon, the doctor, needed blood for Keisha, so we all had our types checked for compatibility, and some of us, including the folks who lived there, contributed (but not me). After that we had time for a very quick round of introductions.
In addition to the land owner, the house held his two daughters, Marjorie and Laurie. Also, our skinny shooter, Cyril, and a couple of neighbor friends, whose house had been overrun, by the names of Jaxon and Jeanie Hoop. Finally, there was a dog by the name of Patch, who was a playful friend to Tracer right off. While they were all busy trying to squeeze some news out of us I was trying to think of something we might do to help Keisha’s chances. Nothing came to mind.
After an hour Dr. Saxon came out and told us that he had the bullet out and ‘the girl’ was sleeping. The surgery had been desperate for a while but her situation had improved, and now things looked pretty good. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Mr. Moon got some directions from Cyril (who couldn’t apologize enough) and some of us went back to all our rides. We drove back around and finally managed to pull up the narrow driveway and onto the farm, making sure to close the gate behind us.
After that I got bored and started to work with Mr. Moon to finally get a door put back on his motor home. That took us the rest of the day, during which time our hosts had a lot of questions. It quickly became apparent that they had no working knowledge of what was going on outside of their little world (lucky for them). They had no shortwave (but Dan and I both thought that the metal support structure of one of the windmills would work just fine as an antenna for my radio), and although all their ordinary radios were picking up nothing, they still thought the United States of America was doing just fine, right over the horizon. They were not too happy with our answers.
Chapter 16
Early the next morning I got up to see what the day had to offer, only to learn that Keisha’s condition had worsened during the night. The lack of sterile conditions during the operation and the haste of the surgery had apparently led to a dangerous infection. The prognosis was bad. The Doc said that maybe she’d live and maybe she wouldn’t. I rushed to get our supply of antibiotics, only to learn from Mrs. Reese that Keisha was allergic to penicillin and some related type of antibiotic with a big strange name. And that was all we had.
The solution seemed obvious. I’d just go into the nearest town and get some. The farmhouse natives thought I was crazy, but Neil was already getting a backpack ready to hold the loot. Cyril looked like he thought he was going to his grave but he told us that he’d show us the way. Neil didn’t look too happy with our guide, but couldn’t say anything bad because we clearly needed the help.
Our destination, according to Cyril, was the hamlet of Lawville, to the north a mile or so. He knew of a drug store there, one of the ubiquitous ‘Verdant Palisade’ branch, sure to have whatever we needed. From Cyril’s point of view the journey was suicide, which marked him as both very brave and very under-informed, in my opinion. To Neil the journey was a necessary and dangerous adventure, sure to be fraught with ogres and ghouls, but hardly impossible. To me, it was a Tuesday (I think it actually was a Tuesday).
As we began the journey, Neil asked me, “Why aren’t you bringing both swords?”
“Because this is a ‘scout and procurement’ run. I gotta stay light and loose. Can’t be weighed down. Probably be a lot of running, that’s why I’m also leaving my rifles behind.”
He believed me, which saved me from some potentially embarrassing explanations.
Getting to the edge of town was a simple matter. We hopped the fence, and the woods were mostly empty of zombies that far from the road. We peered from behind some concealing trees to get a better idea of our situation. The whole village only had a couple dozen houses, and after last nights sleep I was pretty sure I could just waltz right in there and kill everything. Neil held me back.
“This is no time for heroics,” he said. He pointed to the east side of the hamlet, “Attack from that direction. Cyril and I will go in and get what we need. Make sure you don’t lead any back to the farm.”
“I was born at night, not last night. And, just for the record, this is the perfect time for heroics. In fact, we’re all being heroes right now, at this very moment.”
I didn’t like the way Neil was looking at Cyril. His wasn’t the ‘we few, we happy few, we band of brothers’ look I wanted to see, it was more like the ‘I’m going to kill you as soon as you turn your back’ look. I told Cyril to check over all his ammunition and inspect his Tommy gun, because we were about to go into action. Then I took Neil aside.
“You do not get to kill Cyril,” I whispered to him.
He frowned and tried to fake me out with an angry look, “What are you-”.
I cut him off, “Cut the crap. If you murder that man, I’ll know.” One look at Neil’s guilt ridden mug and I knew that I’d guessed right. Uncle’s micro expression training was the best. It was like being a mind reader sometimes. If only I could remember to pay attention more often I could probably save myself a lot of trouble.
I understood Neil’s anger at Keisha getting shot and I like getting revenge as much as the next guy, but poor Cyril seemed so genuinely contrite that murdering him just didn’t seem right. I mean, accidents do happen.
Neil’s advice about attacking from the east did make good sense, though, so I ran around the woods before striding into town. Naturally, everyone came out to play. There wasn’t a ghoul in the mix, nor an ogre neither, which would have disappointed me if our mission hadn’t been so time sensitive. The most difficult part was waiting for all the zombies to cover the ground as they came for me. I led them away for a half hour, singing out the whole time (I didn’t want them to lose track of my movements). Then I cut them all down.
I’d only brought Abby with me. It had been a long time since we’d had any alone time, and I could tell she was getting jealous (and trust me, you don’t want your sword getting jealous). She heard me singing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ to lure the zombies, so she set the music ‘Mars, the Bringer of War’ for our dance number. There were so few zombies, only a few dozen sluggish specimens, so they were all dispatched before the music was finished. That was okay, though, we did a sort of kata thing until it was done playing.
Afterwards we re
turned to the farm, where I was gratified to see that Cyril was still alive. They had managed to haul out a bunch of medicine and some of it proved to be the right thing. Doc Saxon had given each of us a list of appropriate antibiotics with super annoying names, but when Neil got there he just stuffed the packs with some of everything and ran back. Cyril had been more meticulous and had come up with the right stuff by reading through a big book that had been hung on the wall. The book was some kind of alphabetical list of stuff in the pharmacy.
After looking after his patient, and declaring that he had done all that could be done and that Keisha ought to be fine, the doctor invited everyone to an outdoor barbecue. There were a bunch of tables in the barn that we set up, and Jaxon, Cyril, and Jeanie slaughtered a beef that took all day to cook. It was quite a feast, though. Everybody wanted to hear the story of how we got the medicine so easily.
Both Cyril and Neil took turns saying how everything happened. Eventually the conversation got around to my contribution. Not thinking that I had much to hide, I told the truth (mostly, I left out the personal details). Doctor Saxon was not pleased.
He asked me, “Did you absolutely have to kill all those people?”
Not understanding the question, I answered, “What people?” Big mistake.
“The people in town.” The doctor seemed flabbergasted at my incomprehension. “You killed all those people! Doesn’t that bother you, son?”
I said, “You must not have understood the story. When we got to town there were no people, no bandits, no raiders, no brigands, no homicidal cannibals. Nothing like that. It was just full of your run of the mill zombies, not even an ogre or ghoul to spice things up a bit. Which was okay, because we were in a hurry anyway.”
Doctor Saxon was still pretty upset about it. He tried to make me see his point of view, “Those ‘zombies’, as you insist on calling them, are people. Very sick people. Maybe someday soon the government CDC will find a cure. Then things can start getting back to normal.”