by Mike Fosen
"Oh yeah, I found someone sneaking around the property and almost shot him,” Tom replied into the radio. “It’s your younger brother Dave. We have him to thank for getting the radio up and running today.”
There was a grin on Dan’s face from ear to ear that only Stephen and I could see.
"Okay,” Dan replied, “but first tell me more about dehydrating the deer meat."
On the other end, Dave grabbed the mike from Tom Ogle.
"It’s nice to hear from you too asshole!"
And now everyone was grinning.
22
September 2
Day 8
The crackling static of the emergency FM radio the next morning cancelled out the voice coming through it until Stephen made some needed adjustments. We were all up and listening to the broadcast over breakfast cereal and ate in silence. There he was again, young Troy Lundell, apparently becoming the official voice of the Zombie Apocalypse, making his broadcast from the FEMA safe zone at Joliet West High School. He relayed that several carloads of refugees had arrived the previous day and more that morning. It seemed that the infected had increased their presence overnight, but the hard work done by the city’s employees was paying off. A barrier was being expanded, and it was safe and secure inside with a growing stack of resources. After listening for a good hour, we again debated our favorite fallback spots. The five of us were not all on the same page as to where to head.
Stephen and Chris wanted to leave the city and head for the hills, possibly for Stephen's place in Wisconsin. They argued that we needed to get as far away from population centers as possible. Mattie thought we should head to the safe zone to try to help out. I explained my reservations over living out of trucks, but relayed that if we did try for the city safe zone instead, we needed a backup plan if we could not reach it or if things there didn’t work out. Dan would prefer we head to his buddy Tom’s downstate, where his brother was also staying, but agreed to stay with our group. As long as he could kill some zombies and stare at Mattie’s chest, he was happy.
As we continued to listen to the broadcast, we heard they were asking for people to bring any and all firearms, food, water, and medical supplies.
“We have plenty, but there is always a need, my friends,” Councilman Lewis pleaded over the radio. “I have arranged to protect everyone under my care.”
“You see guys?” Mattie pleaded. “They need our help. Look, there are five police officers here in this room. We have the ability –duty really— to make a meaningful contribution to those men and women. Just think of the poor people who we swore an oath to help and who depend on us. That doesn’t stop just because of some sort of pandemic!”
Dan snorted in disagreement. “Well when that same pandemic causes people to feed on the flesh and organs of other humans, I think all bets are off. They can go pound sand, I don‘t want to end up in a refugee camp.”
“And they said no pets, remember?” Stephen added. “Buddy comes with me wherever I go.”
“We can sneak the little guy in, get real,” Mattie objected.
I finally stood and addressed the group. “Listen up gang. For one, if another mess of zombies like the one we just had ever put up a real determined attack, we’d be overrun. It coulda happened yesterday. I think there’s safety in numbers, and if this safe zone has more like-minded peeps then we’ll be better off fighting a large scale attack there.”
“I agree,” Chris chimed in. “We have enough supplies loaded into that school bus we commandeered to last us a long time, but that won’t do us any good if we’re dead. I vote for the safe zone, but you’re right, we need a fallback location if it doesn’t work out.”
“It appears that we have taken a vote of sorts. I'm in,” Stephen decided. “Buddy will just have to keep a low profile. Let’s round everything up today and make sure we are ready to go at sunrise tomorrow. Maybe hit some more houses in the neighborhood this afternoon. Until then, everyone think of a possible fallback location in case this so-called safe zone doesn’t pan out.”
The morning progressed, and ideas began to be floated. Dan’s suggestion was the National Guard Armory in Joliet, near where I used to live. It was not a bad idea, and we could check it out on our way to the safe zone to see if it was still intact. Chris liked the idea of the armory as well, since he was in the Guard himself and had been attached to that very duty station. He added that the small barracks could easily accommodate us and several others. He and I probably could work on any vehicles that were parked there as well. Mattie, who seemed to trust in people too much, didn’t think we would need to go anywhere other than the safe zone to ride out this pandemic.
Stephen had the best idea of any, and as soon as he said where it was we all knew it was perfect. The old abandoned Collins Street State Prison. It had been closed for several years, but the place was huge, made of large limestone blocks that were quarried here in Joliet in the early 1800's. The prison had been made famous by its use in the Blues Brothers movie as well as season one of the Fox show, Prison Break. It would take a lot of work to get it into livable shape, but it was easily defendable against zombies and any living people who might have ill intentions towards us or our supplies. After Stephen mentioned the prison, Dan and Chris also agreed that place would be freaking awesome as our base camp. Since most of our supplies were already loaded in the ambulance, GMC 2500, and the school bus, we did not have much in the way of personal property to gather. We ran Stephen’s generator long enough to heat up some water for showers and also ran the washer and dryer, cleaning all of our laundry. As a result, Dan was forced to run the suppressed AR-15 heavy to keep up with the increase of zombies attracted by the noise. Stephen and I then loaded the generator in the back of Chris’ truck. That left a little time to search some of the abandoned houses, but nothing of any real use was located.
That night as we went through Stephen’s place carefully, so as not to leave anything important, we listened to the broadcast from the safe zone.
“The pandemic has reached well into the rural areas now,” Troy Lundell relayed. “The AP is reporting that several large refugee groups that fled the heavily populated cities are now rampant with infected people and destroying everything in their path.”
“We need to not be here when that happens,” I remarked flatly.
We were all tired from the day’s work, but sleep did not come easy for any of us except Chris, who was passed out cold on the couch. Mattie made coffee and helped me cover the night watch, and we were eventually joined by Stephen and Dan who announced that they couldn’t sleep.
“Professional cock blockers,” I muttered. “I was just getting somewhere here.”
“Sure you were,” Stephen replied.
“Just be ready guys,” Dan added. “We leave at dawn.”
* * * * * * * *
Shortly after an early breakfast of oatmeal we set out. I led the way driving the ambulance, as it was best suited for pushing stranded vehicles with its sheer size, and could drive over any zombies that didn’t get the hint to move out of the way. Stephen rode shotgun with me in the ambulance with Buddy hanging his head out the window. Behind me were Mattie and Chris with his big GMC pickup. Bringing up the rear was Dan, riding solo in the big school bus packed to the roof with supplies. As we drove deeper into the city, the signs of zombies and the sheer size of destruction around was a grim sight to behold. After what seemed like the hundredth burned out vehicle shell was pushed to the side, I was determined to eventually bolt on some heavy steel to the front of the ambulance to act as a ram to help push obstacles from the roadway. Many of the stores and businesses we saw were either burned structures or had windows all smashed out and looted.
“It’s unreal how fast civilization unraveled and turned us back into scavengers,” I mentioned to Stephen.
He just nodded while looking around in shock. “What’s it been, ten days? Imagine a year from now!”
Up ahead of us, the road was a literal parking lot.
I slowed down to take a look at my options, and they were not too good. I could ram my way through but would probably end up getting stuck or disable my ride. I could cut through the Wal-Mart parking lot to try to make it past the blocked intersection. The only problem was that there seemed to be a huge crowd of zombies in front of the building. As I got closer, I could see the hundreds if not thousands of hungry, hate-filled, yet at the same time dead eyes turn and stare at me from the noise I made. I raised the others via the Motorola two-way radios that we all had to coordinate our path.
“Hang back guys,” I relayed. “I need to carve a path through this mob and try to make it past this huge wreck or whatever it is.”
Hearing the 10-4 and affirmative from Chris and Dan, I eased a stranded Toyota Corolla out of the way with my bumper and picked up some speed. The crowd of zombies heading my way was a lot thicker than I thought. From front to back it was about a hundred feet deep.
The thuds of mindless minions impacting on the front of the truck made me glad I was not in my squad car again. I gave the truck some more power and stepped on the accelerator. The howls of the mob actually drowned out the roar of the big diesel, but there were not enough to slow me down as I plowed a bloody and bumpy path to the west side of the parking lot and onto open road. Several greasy faces and palms smeared the sides of the ambulance as we passed. Buddy had taken to hiding under the seat to escape the racket. It was hard to feel remorse for those disgusting creatures when I crushed them. Maybe I should feel bad because these bastards were living people a few days ago, and now they were nothing but hood ornaments. I chugged the ambulance through the mob of infected, and I even aimed for them, picking out and targeting individual zombies based on a physical characteristic.
Breaking through the large pack, I wheeled the truck around and headed back to the significantly reduced zombie mob yet again. Eventually I had reduced the current horde into a gooey, bone-shard filled speed bump. I radioed back to the group that they should be able to push through and waited for them to catch up. I saw that if we passed around the west side of the intersection, we could cut across into a gas station parking lot. I used the big truck to push several stalled cars out of our path, and we finally were able to make it into the parking lot. It was big enough of a lot to hold our entire little caravan of trucks, and Stephen and I decided to check out the store while the rest pulled guard duty outside to protect our vehicles.
Stephen grabbed his rifle and ordered Buddy to stay in the truck. Me, I decided to save ammo and went with my trusty aluminum bat and ballistic shield. I also brought my holstered Colt 1911 and my two heavy knives…just in case. The electric doors were frozen in the open position, as if daring us to step inside. I pulled down my Oakley goggles to protect my eyes from any zombie splatter. Last thing I needed was to catch whatever it was from an errant splash of zombie goo in my eyes. I put in my earplugs, casting a weary look in Stephen’s direction.
“Very funny,” he shot back.
After following Stephen inside I had a hunch that the store was in the process of being looted when it was overrun. I realized this due to the fact that a fat white male zombie wearing a Chicago Bears jersey coming at me from around the register counter had Slim Jims and candy bars sticking out of his pockets and a large bite taken out of his belly.
I stepped up and swung for the bleachers, whacking him upside his moaning, blood-soaked head. The fat man tumbled to the side, knocking over a display of cheap sunglasses that scattered across the floor. Walking over to him, I whacked him in the melon again for good measure. Behind me I heard Stephen engage a new target with his rifle. Good thing I had my earplugs, for that man really must like having his muzzle right next to my head when he shoots.
“Grab whatever is salvageable, Mike,” Stephen said. “I’ll do the same.”
Nodding, I vaulted over the register counter and began opening the cabinet doors checking for what I really wanted.
Finally I hit pay dirt.
I grabbed the two boxes inside, set them on the counter and started looking through my loot. What I had procured was about forty rolls of assorted brands of chewing tobacco! Whistling happily, I began to load various cartons of cigarettes and cigars.
Stephen came walking over to see what I was up to.
“Bro, in about six months from now, if we are still alive; this shit will be worth more than gold,” I remarked after getting a strange look. “Items your preps were seriously lacking!”
“Good point. Get it loaded,” he replied. “We have a lot here to take with.”
I took a moment to open a fresh can of Copenhagen and put a dip in.
“God this is the shit!”
I tossed into the boxes all of the lighters and matches that I could find. Picking up the tobacco products, I walked around the counter with an armload of smokes and chew and made my way to the door, pausing to spit a big wad of tobacco juice on the dead zombie I crushed on my way in. The smelly dead man was lying next to another turnstile display that had maps on it. I grabbed them all and exited the store out to the vehicles. I made my way over to the bus, tossed the tobacco into the vehicle, and handed Dan a cheap cigar. His nose crinkled when he saw the crappy brand it was but then shrugged and popped it into his mouth. As I turned to head back in, Dan stopped me with a warning.
“Hey sunshine, you two take any longer, and we’re going to have company.” He pointed his unlit cigar at a new zombie horde, weaving their way toward us through the traffic jam at a steady, relentless pace.
“We can kill them now or later,” Dan said frankly. “I prefer to kill them as we find them, but it’s your call, boss man.”
Dan calmly clicked his AR-15 from safe to semi-auto setting and settled in for a wait. I glanced from him to his unlit cigar sticking out of his mouth.
“You want a light for that?”
“Bout as much as you want a punch in the teeth,” he replied.
Chuckling, I put my hands up in surrender. “Save it for the zombies tough guy.”
Dan chuckled as well. “Anyways, don’t worry about this new infected bunch. While you all were inside I set up a bit of a welcome mat.”
I stared at him in confusion and before I could ask, Dan held his hand up.
“I got the idea from that stunt Stephen claimed he pulled last week,” he said. “Just on a grander scale is all.”
Over at the store, I watched Stephen, Mattie and Chris help load cases of bottled drinks and boxes of beef jerky along with other snack foods. I raised them over the radio and told them that we had incoming from the northwest.
Stephen radioed back that they had just finished loading what supplies they wanted and were on the way out to repel the infected.
“Hold your fire, ladies,” Dan cut in. “I have a surprise for them. Just stay back from the road.”
Dan sighted down his rifle towards the much larger and closer zombie mob roaring their eternal hunger at us. Dan took a peek over at me and smiled.
“Just watch and learn boy.”
Not wanting to correct him again that I am older and to quit calling me boy, I noticed that he wasn’t aiming for the zombies but at the stalled vehicles near and around them. Kind of getting the idea what he was about to do, I slid to the left and took cover behind the large bus next to me. The custom AR-15 bucked gently in his hands as he squeezed off controlled precise shots through the mass of non-living beings and into his intended targets. I could see from the streaks leaving his barrel Dan had loaded up with tracer rounds.
The moment I ducked behind the front fender of the bus, an incredibly huge fireball roared skyward, sending chunks of zombie and pieces of vehicle wreckage soaring.
”Hoo-rah motherfuckers!” Dan screamed with glee.
I shielded my head from the smoldering body parts raining down, watching Dan calmly bend over and pick up the arm of a zombie that had landed next to him, which had a piece of a shirt sleeve attached, still on fire. Using the disgusting arm as a brand, Dan casually lit his cig
ar and tossed the arm aside.
“Well, close your mouth before you swallow a bug and let’s move out,” he said, and climbed into the truck whistling a merry sounding tune.
The man has only a slight grip on sanity.
Stephen on the other hand did not see the humor in blowing up several dozen zombies and turning scores of vehicles into vehicle bombs.
“What the hell’s wrong with you two?” he yelled. ”Now every infected for a square mile knows we’re here!”
“Then we’d better not be here when they show up, cupcake!” Dan shouted out of the bus.
Stephen turned and dared me to say something. I just shrugged my shoulders.
Stephen looked at the zombie-fueled bonfires and stalked off towards the ambulance, throwing his hands up in defeat. He found Buddy hiding under the seat again.
Back in our small convoy formation, we pretty much had an uneventful trip clear to the National Guard Armory. When we arrived, it appeared that it had been seriously looted. Several holes were carved through the chain link fence where vehicles had been driven, coming from both directions. The front glass doors and windows to the lobby were smashed out and it looked as if looters tried to set the building on fire, maybe out of frustration. Chris informed us that the majority of the gear and vehicles were still en route back from Afghanistan, destined now to never make it back. After poking around the remains briefly, we confirmed that most everything of value had been taken, and the armory itself would not be defendable. We did, however, discover that the facility had a diesel fueling station buried underground that could come in handy someday if we could get power to the pumps.
From the armory, it was only about a six block drive to the safe zone, and it appeared as though Highway 52, which led from the armory to Larkin Avenue, had been cleared by heavy equipment. Dozens of cars and trucks were smashed to the side of the road, clearing a path through what had been a huge traffic jam. The safe zone was only a few blocks north of Route 52 on Larkin. This was also the route taken from the small airport by the military when they dropped off supplies at the high school.