Beginning of the New Beginning, Vol 1

by Taylor, W. Joe

  “Wow. Just wow. I’m so glad you’re ok. Kathrin, it’s good to see you again, and Jake, nice to meet you. Everyone, this is Charity. I helped her out in Abilene, and you did well by not rushing right up on someone you don’t know. She will be riding with us for a while. I’ll explain everything later while we’re on the road. Right now, we need to clear some of these bodies away, so you two put your bags in the back while Terry, Q, and I go get a bag packed for Terry.”

  “Charity, what happened?” Bill asked as he pulled her into a bear hug. He wasn’t sure why—they had only known each other a few hours—but he was just so damn happy to see her alive.

  “They were pulling me down, and I was losing my grip on the trailer. So I let go, and before my feet hit the ground, they lost their grip. I folded up like a taco and propelled myself under the trailer. I got really lucky, I guess.”

  “Damn, I’m just glad you’re ok. I was just starting to hate you,” Bill said with a sarcastic tone and a playful smile.

  Charity, D, and Andre resumed their positions around the convoy once the bodies were moved away with the help of Kathrin and Jake. Q, Terry, and Bill headed up to Terry’s room to grab his clothes and were back in a matter of minutes. With everyone piled into the two trucks, they pulled out of the university, never to see it again.

  Chapter 3. Road to Pensacola

  Rolling onto the main street, Bill looked at the clock on the dash. It was now 10:30 PM. He’d spoken to Sam twelve hours ago and knew there was no way they would be there in four. That was a laugh; they would literally have to fly to make it there in that short of a time. He made a mental note to call them when they were outside the city limits.

  Two blocks from the university, they ran into the horde that had been massing on their way into town. Bill radioed Q with their handy-dandy headsets.

  “We’re going to need a detour. Seems like our adoring fans have been following us across town.”

  “No worries. You go, and we will follow.”

  The wove down side streets with the aid of Kathrin (she drove, and Terry didn’t even though he was twenty-one years old)—because Bill always went one way to the university and left the same way when he came down for a visit. They managed to lose the horde after a few blocks, but he knew full well that they would still pick up stragglers along the way.

  At the south end of town, there was a sign for a Firearm & Supply Distribution center that caught Bill’s eye. He radioed Q that he wanted to check it out, as it was on the way out of town. Q thought that would be a good idea provided they didn’t run into any trouble. He also pointed out that they could never have too much ammo considering how much they had gone through already. He also wanted to find suppressors for handguns if possible. So far, the ones they had on the M4s had proven to be valuable. When they pulled into the parking lot of the gun store, there were only a few thrillers meandering about, who were immediately attracted by the noise. Charity jumped out of the passenger seat and procced to take out all five with her bow. With the all-clear, they got out of the vehicles and took up the same positions as before.

  “At least the door isn’t locked,” Bill said.

  “Having this thing kick off just after opening on a Saturday is going to be good for that. Store openers will be there and hopefully without too many customers. Will probably have a few in here if they haven’t wandered out yet,” Q replied.

  “I agree. We need to clear the building before we start hauling anything out. Terry, Jake, you guys are going to stand by the doors. Keep them open in case we need to make a quick escape. Stand behind them and use them as a shield so nothing can get to you from the inside. We will back up and continue to fire at the thrillers. Doing it that way will funnel them into our line of fire. So far, I have seen they will take the path of least resistance. Once the inside is clear, we will get what we need.”

  With nothing further to discuss, Bill and Q pulled out knives and machetes to bring out the dead. Terry and Jake opened the doors for them, and before they even walked in, they could smell the decay wafting out at them like a really bad dog fart. Holding their breath as best as they could, they entered a few feet and tried to locate the source of the pungent aroma. Bill slapped his machete against the nearest shelving unit to draw the attention of those inside, hoping it was quiet enough to not notify any thrillers outside.

  “ARGHRGHRGHRGHRGHRGH!”

  “Come to papa,” Bill whispered.

  Behind the main sales counter on the right side of the showroom floor, two thrillers were pushing against it, not realizing that it was the reason they couldn’t reach their next meal. Both were covered in drying blood and shit from the nose down, caused by eating the intestine of some poor soul. Bill gagged once again, and almost as if practiced, the two men jabbed both of the thrillers through the eye at the same time.

  While they’d been walking up to the shit eaters at the counter, they had heard boxes fall over in the back room. There, they found another thriller with an amazing beard, and he was still clean. Trapped behind a door that opened inwards, he had not had a meal of anything since it all began. After “The Beard” was re-dead, Bill and Q made a sweep to ensure the whole store was indeed clear. Blocking the front doors open with a couple crates of ammo for a caliber they did not have, nor had any intention of acquiring, the four men cleaned the place out of .223, 5.56, 9mm, and .45 shells. They even found a few hand held CB radios in the back room. Bill suggested that they each keep one in the trailers so they can communicate without having to put the helmets on at night.

  “Oh, hell yea!” Bill hollered in excitement.

  “SHHH, fucker, you wanna draw every goddamned thriller in a two-mile radius?” Q reprimanded.

  “Yea, kinda. We gotta try these things out, man. Here, gimme your handgun and that wrench there.”

  “What did you find over there?”

  “Dude, check this shit out. Exactly what you were hoping to find. If they are still in their packaging, there are six suppressors here for the pistols.”

  “Nice!”

  Now it was Bill’s turn to shush Q. Working quickly, they installed the suppressors. They went and grabbed their personal ARs and swapped suppressors from the M4s while they had the tools and a bench vice. Jake and Terry came walking in with their newly acquired weapons and got the same treatment for their guns. On the next trip out, they swapped guns with the ladies and repeated the process for the last time. Now the only two people that did not have suppressed pistols were Kathrin and Andre. Bill promised that the next gun shop they went to, they had pick of the litter.

  Twenty-five minutes after they stopped, they had what they came for and left the rest. They weren’t trying to clean the place out; they didn’t have the space nor the manpower for that. They merely wanted to stock up and better their chances of survival for the long haul. And a long haul it was going to be: fourteen hours into the ZomPoc, and they’d only made it two hours away from their point of origination. Bill had hoped to be almost to Pensacola by now, and they had yet to turn the convoy east.

  Walking out of the gun shop for the last time, two things happened almost simultaneously. Groups of thrillers shambled around both sides of the strip mall, seventy-five yards away in both directions, and a four-door pickup truck full of guys pulled into the parking lot. There were guns sticking out the windows of the back doors, and two of the six guys in the back were leaning up on the cab, also pointing their weapons at Bill and Q. The men in the truck stopped about fifty yards back, and the driver hollered out the window.

  “EVERYTHING YOU TOOK FROM THAT GUN SHOP BELONGS TO ME.”

  “IS THAT YOUR STORE, MISTER?” Q Hollered back.

  “IT IS NOW! AND SEEING AS HOW WE HAVE YOU OUTGUNNED AND YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE FLANKED BY SHIT EATERS, I WOULD RECOMMEND YOU COOPERATE IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!”

  “Great, now we have to deal with mouth breather too,” Bill said into his coms.

  What the guy in the truck could not see were the six other guns pointe
d at him from the shadows of the trailers parked side by side. They had parked with the nose of both vehicles pointed towards the main road for a quick escape. The truck full of dudes had come from one of the side roads, and from that angle, they hadn’t seen anyone except Bill and Q walk out of the store. Since they were illuminated by the awning lights, they automatically drew the attention of everyone in the truck. The men obviously knew what they were coming for and had anticipated running into other survivors.

  “HAHAHAH! YOU’RE RICH, MAN, REAL FUNNY. IT WOULD BEHOOVE YOU TO TURN AROUND. NOW, MAKE LIKE A TREE AND GET OUT OF HERE!” Q hollered back.

  D. being the crack shot that she was, and with the additional help to watch the perimeter, had taken up camp on top of her trailer. She saw how quickly this was degrading and didn’t waste another second. She placed her first shot in loudmouth’s face, spraying brain matter and blood all over the guy in the back seat. Her second and third rounds found home in the two guys standing in the back of the truck. When the realization hit the guy in the driver-side back seat that he was covered in his buddy’s blood, he started to blindly shoot towards where he thought anybody might be. Bill quickly sighted in with his red dot optic and took care of both men in the back seat while Q fired upon the guys jumping out of the bed of truck. Two guys that hopped out towards the passenger side ran as fast as they could back in the direction they’d come from. The whole fight was over in less than twenty seconds.

  “Everybody ok?” Charity asked as she came around the front of the vehicles.

  “We have about thirty seconds before we’re overrun with thrillers. We need to move and deal with any wounds down the road,” D said as she climbed down off the roof.

  Without another word, everyone reclaimed their original seating positions, and both rigs were finally on the road headed east.

  Half an hour later, the convoy pulled off at a wide spot in the road called Wall, Texas. A quick recon of the gas station and a re-dead clerk later, they gassed up both trucks and took any gas cans they found inside. Then they loaded up all the bottled water, energy drinks, beef jerky, and snacks they could find. Bill pulled out his laptop and set it on the hood of his 4Runner so everyone could see. They were looking at the best route with the least amount of large towns. Once they had a pretty good idea of the way ahead, they discussed the next option. It was agreed that they would stick to Highway 190 most of the way to avoid big towns and possible bandits trying to prey on those who stuck to the interstate.

  “It’s already midnight,” said Bill, “none of us have had any sleep, and we have about a fourteen-hour drive ahead of us. I say we sleep here for a few hours and take turns on watch. From here on out, we have to have a watch at all hours. I will take the last watch, since I will probably be awake already anyway.”

  “I’ll get up with you since we’ll be sharing a bed,” Charity stated in front of everyone. D and Q looked at Bill with an eyebrow raised, and he blushed and just shrugged. None of the sleeping arrangements had been discussed for the people in the 4Runner. His camper could accommodate everyone, but the logistics hadn’t been talked about yet.

  The non-verbal wasn’t missed by Charity, and she said, “What? It’s not like we’re fucking! I don’t want sleep on the floor, and besides, he makes me feel safe.”

  Everyone just nodded their agreements.

  “All right, I’ll take first watch since I usually stay up late,” said Q.

  “I’ll take middle watch since I usually get up in the middle of the night to pee,” said D.

  “OK, it is set,” said Bill. “We’ll leave in the morning. Everyone get a good night’s rest because tomorrow is going to be long.”

  That night, outside a little town in the middle of nowhere, Bill and Charity lay in the same bed, separated by a chasm of loss. They both cried quietly into their pillows. Their tears were for the loss of loved ones on this very long day, one that no survivor would ever forget.

  Morning came without problems, though a few thrillers had wandered up during the night and promptly had their heads removed. Everyone had a quick shower and a good breakfast before they headed out. They made their way through Killeen, passing the Army base and a prison along the way. Somehow, most of the prisoners had gotten out of the buildings and were standing along the fence. It was leaning pretty far to the outside from the weight pushing against it, and everyone was glad to be moving along at a pretty good clip. They kept the speeds to around fifty-five, even though there was no traffic to be found. That was a good, comfortable speed should anything occur, and it was good on fuel mileage too. Both trucks were weighed down pretty good with all they had acquired already, and pulling the travel trailers didn’t help either.

  There was conversation about going to the Army base, but it was quickly shut down. The Air Force people in the convoy knew that large crowds of people (civilians and military alike) would flock to the large base in the hope that security and the government would protect them. The small National Guard outposts were one thing, but large bases were asking for trouble. The small towns they passed through had a few thrillers wandering about, and as the day progressed, it seemed that a few more had managed to find their way out of whatever building had kept them trapped.

  College Station presented an interesting problem for them. ZomPoc had decided to start on the second Saturday in September. On the same day, it was to be the first home game of the football season for Texas A&M. People had come from hundreds of miles around to attend. The highway they were following took a sharp turn to the north, so the decision was made to cut through town on Highway 6, and take Highway 30 to re-intercept the 190 in Huntsville. Cars were stalled out along the road, and they had to slowly weave between them. Thrillers were in every car and wandering around the road. With so many active thrillers, Bill didn’t foresee them running into any mouth breathers. There was a twenty-seven-car pileup at University Dr. Overpass, so the small convoy exited onto the surface streets.

  “Isn’t this where Mike went to college?” Mike was Terry’s older brother.

  “Yes, it is. Y’all hang onto your butts. This is going to get hairy,” Bill said as he turned onto S. Texas Ave. in front of the main campus.

  The golf course and polo fields that lined the main entrance to the university were crammed with thrillers. Bill couldn’t go any faster than five mph because of all the stopped and stalled-out cars. Every one of the thousands of thrillers had been drawn by the sound of the passing convoy. At the intersection of George Bush Dr., the road was completely blocked.

  “Fuck my shit hole!” Bill yelled as he pounded on the steering wheel with the side of his fist.

  Thinking quickly, he radioed Q and said they were going to have to winch a couple of cars out of the way. He told Charity to get behind the wheel of the 4Runner and showed her how to use the wireless remote to the winch. It was pretty simple really. Out, in, and lock or unlock. Bill grabbed some shackles from a kit he had in the back and signaled Charity to unlock the winch. Then he pulled the synthetic line as he walked to the nearest car.

  Kathrin, Jake, and Terry were popping shots at thrillers when they got too close. Andre D, and Q were protecting their rear. Bill had the first car hooked up and signaled Charity to start reeling it in. Once the car was turned enough to get the campers through, she reversed it enough so he had some slack to disconnect. Bill ran to the second and was almost there when a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle, sending him sprawling across the pavement.

  “Bill!” Charity screamed, as she jumped out of the 4Runner.

  She sprinted over to him as he struggled with the amazing strength this thing had. He could feel the vise-like grip and watched the fingernails breaking as it tried to dig into his flesh. He was very thankful for the cowboy boots he’d put on yesterday. Bill whipped out his pistol and shot at the arm because he couldn’t see the damn thing’s head. Charity sliced down with the machete he had left in the car and severed the thriller’s arm.

  “Thanks,” Bill said wit
h a sigh of relief.

  “You’re welcome. Now, get your lazy ass up and get this shit cleared. We have about forty-five seconds before we’re overrun.”

  Bill looked back at Q’s position and saw that she was right. Without another word, he hooked up the second car, and Charity winched it out of the way. A small pickup and the nose of this car were hooked bumper to bumper, and the winch was pulling both along. Bill could see that there was no time for this, as the truck would block the road once the car was far enough out of the way. He signaled Charity to reverse so he could unhook and told everyone to get back in the vehicles. It was time for plan B.

  He ran back to the 4Runner, wadding up the line as he went, since there was no time to reel it in now. When he got to the passenger side of his rig, he stood on the nerf bar and tossed the rope onto the roof rack. Then he got in and sat down.

  He reached over and pulled the shift lever into four low and told Charity, “Ok, nice and slow. We need to push that car and the truck attached off to the left, and please, keep it in contact with the bumper. If we push in the fender, it will cut the tire.”

  “No worries. I got this,” she said.

  With a slight bump and then some acceleration, she shoved the car further into and under the truck with a loud groan of twisted metal.

  “Guys! Can we hurry this along? We’re surrounded here, and now my windows are super dirty!” Q hollered into this headset mic.

  “Almost there,” Bill reassured them.