The door withstood Eli's assault, but the frame did not. With a loud crack the frame splintered, the deadbolt pushing through the wood and sending shards flying into the room. Inside was a bare kitchen, the appliances removed to make way for storage of canned goods and other non-perishables. The screaming came from the hallway to the left. We ran inside, Eli and Roger watching the back door while I made my way in.
Bile rose in my throat as I went down the hall, the air was thick with the scent of human waste and rotting food. While the kitchen seemed organized and maintained, the bedrooms must be filthy. old clothes were piled in the hallway besides overflowing garbage bags. Flies buzzed lazily in the summer heat. Everything smelled of sweat and decay. From the furthest door I could hear whimpering. There was a heavy padlock on the outside. I pressed my shoulder to the door and called, "Amy?"
"Alex??" she replied. Her voice was shaky and hoarse, cut with whimpering sobs.
"Yes. Back away from the door, I gotta break in."
"Oh, god, Alex, you need to go. I.. I'm stuck in here.. I... can hear them outside. They're looking in the windows!"
"Back away!" I shouted. I heard her whimper in response, the shuffling of her feet against the floor, and the rattle of metal on metal. I pulled back and slammed my shoulder against the door. The latch broke free of the door, leaving it hanging from the frame, still locked in place. Amy was huddled in the corner. Her clothes were in tatters, leaving her mostly naked. A chain leash hung from a thick leather collar around her neck, the other end fastened to the bottom of the radiator. She looked at me with sunken eyes. I couldn't imagine what kind of hell the last few hours had been for her. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."
I moved to her and tried to unbuckle her collar, but the bastard had soldered it in place. I grabbed the hunting knife off of my hip and cut through the loop handle of the leash. "Come on," I said, "We'll get that off when we have more time."
She nodded, standing gingerly, trying to cover herself as best she could. I grabbed the sheet off the bed and draped it over her shoulders. I did my best to keep the bloodstains out of her view.
Roger shouted from the kitchen, "LET'S GO!"
A shotgun blast. Then another. They were coming up onto the porch.
I hurried Amy into the kitchen. Roger and Eli moved to the door, letting out another pair of blasts. The monsters were surrounding the house. They leaned against every window, pushed in against the doors. Four lay dead on the back porch. I nodded to them both, "Go, go, go!"
They lead the charge, running out into the back yard. I followed as best I could, Amy draped over my shoulders, whimpering with every step. Eli fired again, and again, felling two more that came at us. We heard a window break. The house shook as dozens of those things beat against the walls. We ran for the gap in the fence. Roger fired into the small cluster that was trying to pursue us, the blast hitting one in the center of the chest. It wasn't a fatal shot, but it knocked it down, and back against the others that were close by. It bought us fifteen more seconds, but that would be enough. We slipped through the gap and pulled the sections of fence back together as best we could. As we moved into the next yard I found myself thankful for the stench inside the house. Their disgusting habits would keep the zombies rooting around for fresh meat for a little while at least. It was enough time to get us to the Jeep. The fence would keep them penned in as well as it kept them out.
We ran back through the yards of the empty houses. We ran up the hill clumsily, stumbling and tripping our way back up to Howe Street. We ran to the Jeep and got inside. We drove as fast as we could to Route 132.
We never once looked back.
We would find our way out of Stockton, out to some ski lodge left empty for the summer. We would spend the next few months scavenging for clothes, ammunition, and food, stockpiling as much as we could before the chill of the Vermont autumn settled in. We would stay in the mountains until spring, until the snow melted and the cold gave way. Then we would go looking for help. Our plan was to head north, into Canada, then turn west and make for Toronto. Maybe the outbreak would be contained by then. Maybe there would be some hope for us, for humanity, in a different country.
I'm glad we rescued Amy. I'm glad that, through it all, we never let ourselves become the monsters. I don’t know how much longer we’ll survive, nobody does. All we can do is take these little victories and try to keep moving. Nothing is guaranteed anymore. There are no safe bets. The other humans can be every bit as dangerous as the walking undead. The only safety is in being able to survive one day at a time. Each day alive now is a victory. We just need to make it one more day…
The End
About the Author
Robert Paine is a survivalist, in all sense of the word. He is a former U.S. Army Intelligence officer and now works as a full-time blogger, retreat consultant, and freelance writer.
Robert is an avid outdoorsman and spends much of his free time in the mountains hunting, hiking and mountain biking or near the ocean scuba diving and sailing. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and children.
His goal is a community that will thrive in any economic collapse, power grid failure, nuclear fallout, or some other catastrophe that will require people to fend for themselves when the structure falls again.
To contact Robert, please write to [email protected], and he will answer each and every email personally!
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Other Books by Robert Paine:
The Dead Road: Vol. 1 - Isolation
The Dead Road: Vol. 2 - Maybridge
The Dead Road: Vol. 3 - Stockton
Prepper's Pantry: A Survival Food Guide
The Survivalist Cookbook - Recipes for Preppers
Prepping for Survival: 65 Supplies You Need to Live Through Anything
Survival Kit Essentials: 10 Things to Keep You Alive
The Dead Road: The Complete Collection Page 13