by Mike Fosen
“Damn straight I will leave!” Dan yelled back. “You all are in a hurry to die here! Well not me, I am for the road. You all can go to hell!”
Mattie began screaming about how they were never welcome back after what they had done, and I threw a half empty water bottle at Dan as he walked towards the bus, got in and started it up.
“I’m leaving too!” Chris screamed loudly as a crowd gathered. “You guys are a bunch of jerkoffs.”
He ran for his truck and pulled in behind Dan, who stopped at the gate.
“You better open that gate or I’ll shoot you dead where you stand!” Dan screamed out the window, leveling his rifle at the nearest guard.
The guards scrambled to get it open.
We watched the bus and truck leave the safe zone and head down the road towards the prison. When I turned around, I was kind of shocked to see that we had drawn quite a crowd of onlookers.
Most were shocked at what happened, and quite a few ladies were actually crying (a few even collapsed in despair) as they watched Dan’s vehicle fade into the distance.
Thinking of how rudely Dan treated the fairer sex, I was surprised, to say the least.
I guess some women like to be treated like shit.
Shaking my head in wonder, I walked over to Stephen and Mattie. “Well looks like it worked.”
Just then a group of several angry women walked up to Stephen.
“You, sir, are an asshole. Dan was the sweetest man we have ever met and you drove him off, you selfish bastard,” one of them hissed.
The rest just silently nodded their heads in agreement. They all walked away with moist eyes, and a few even threatened Stephen with bodily harm.
“Wow. Maybe I better leave too,” Stephen said sarcastically. “It may be safer out there with the zombies.
We looked at each other and laughed.
Mattie turned from watching Dan’s bus fade into the distance and had tears in her eyes too.
“I don’t find any of this the least bit humorous,” she said with a blank stare.
That night Stephen and I set up sleeping quarters on top of the ambulance roof for safety reasons, of course.
27
September 10
Day 16
Dan and Chris pulled up to the west gate of the Collins Street Prison and exited their vehicles. The ride had been a bit unnerving; the amount of fresh zombies startled them. Several had managed to get right up to the windows on the trucks as they weaved their way down the road. A few had even been aggressive and tried punching through the glass. They both let out a sigh of relief when they looked at the intact and sturdy looking large steel doors of the prison. This was the gate used to ferry prisoners in and out of the prison and the small parking lot around it was enclosed in a chain-link fence. Several large holes had been punched in the fence, by vehicles most likely, and it appeared that someone else had tried to get in prior to their arrival. The gate itself was two doors at least fifteen feet tall that were held closed in the middle by a large lock and latch that was installed after the prison was closed. The latch appeared intact to Dan and Chris.
“I’ve never heard of breaking into a prison before,” Dan said. “This may be a first. It looks locked up tighter than a drum.”
“It’s a good thing we stopped by that automotive garage on the way for some tools,” Chris replied as he retrieved a cutting torch and tanks from his truck.
Carrying the torch up to the gate, Chris began prepping it for operation while Dan inspected the large steel bar that had been welded onto the two doors, connecting them and preventing them from parting open.
“Yeah, and we nearly lost our ass for stopping,” Dan replied, turning to help Chris set up the gas lines.
“This place should be empty of zombies inside. It’s been shut down for years,” Chris said while he worked. “I wanna be in before nightfall. Wouldn’t want to be caught out in the open after dark.”
While Chris prepared to cut his way in, Dan kept his eye on the perimeter. It was evident from the debris lying about that others had been here prior to their arrival. And where there were living people, zombies would not be far away. That was always the case, and today was no exception.
“We finally got company,” Dan said moments later, alerted by Buddy growling from the door of the bus. Chris looked up, and only seeing a half dozen or so shuffling their way, he didn’t seem too concerned as they were still a ways off.
“You got this?” he asked. “I’m kind of busy.
“Oh hell yeah,” Dan replied and walked out to meet them while Chris began cutting through the gate’s locking mechanism.
Over the hiss of the hot flame slicing through the metal sending molten steel dripping onto the ground amid sparks, Chris could hear the thumping of Dan’s suppressed rifle as he engaged this new threat. Without subsonic ammo for the rifle, the rounds still cracked as they flew through the air. But the noise didn’t lead back to the rifle itself, and thus gave the zombies nothing to close in on. After a few minutes, Dan came walking back to the gate just as Chris cut through the bar. They each grabbed a door and began to push the large gate open, which gradually parted after years of neglect. Chris took a moment to peer inside, scanning for any movement. Seeing none, he finally walked back and threw the torch into the truck. He stopped abruptly when some movement caught his eye to his left. Looking that way, Chris was surprised to see about twenty zombies moving in their direction from the south.
“Hey, I thought you took care of those?”
Dan dropped what he was doing and walked over to Chris.
“I did waste them,” Dan replied and lit his ever present cigar.” These are new brain eaters.”
“We should get the trucks inside,” Chris answered. “This shit is getting old already.”
Dan hawked up a good one, launched it towards the undead staggering towards them, then turned and hopped into the still idling school bus. Once he was inside, Chris ran back with a length of chain and a padlock that he used to secure the gate for the time being. Turning off the loud diesels, they both took the time to properly survey their new home.
Built in the mid 1800’s, the Collins Street State Prison was housing prisoners up until the modern era, finally closing for good in 2002. Citing overhead, maintenance costs and budget shortfalls, the Department of Corrections had closed it down and transferred the prisoners all over the state. Several businesses had grand ideas of what to do with the huge complex, but money was always a sticking point, and any proposed plans fell through. Each of the four walls was eight feet thick at the base and thirty feet tall, made of solid limestone, and ran a length of three hundred yards. The towers, cell blocks, etc., were made up of the same yellowish stone. It had all been quarried locally across the street from the prison, out of what was now a five acre lake hidden in a small forest preserve. Most likely prisoner labor was used to cut the blocks. No small task indeed. Chris relayed to Dan that he had an uncle who worked for the DOC, and he had once given Chris a tour after it had been closed down.
The two survivors explored the immediate buildings, and it was evident that the years of neglect and exposure to the elements had taken an obvious toll on the structure. Large chunks of mortar were missing from the walls of the older out buildings, workshops and prison chapel. Several newer buildings were located in the yard as well, including a large cafeteria and gymnasium. The cell blocks and administration offices made up the southern wall of the facility and were in pretty rough shape. The roof had even partially collapsed at some point, making the upper floor warden’s area and the administration offices open to the sky. The offices themselves were a wonder to look at, still outfitted with 1930’s furniture and decorations. Water damage and birds’ nests filled the top floor and the duo merely peeked inside. The two long cell blocks were not too bad, however, and they took the time to clear them both. Buddy also delayed the patrol, as his nose made him want to investigate every new smell. To make it worse, each block was made up of two s
eparate stories. Paint had peeled off in huge chunks, and the smell of rust and mold permeated the air. They glanced into several of the cells they passed, and commented on how it would suck to serve out a sentence in such a hell hole.
“Mike won’t stay in here with his allergies,” Chris said. “Let’s keep looking around. This place has gone downhill since I was here a few years ago.”
Outside in the large courtyard and breathing fresh air again, they saw the signs of nature taking back its territory. Weeds grew unchecked, and small trees had sprouted in the cracked cement around the exercise yard. The sheer size of the prison complex was impressive. It was basically like a medieval fortress, and the architecture was built to mirror that. As the late afternoon sun began its trek downward, the shadows slowly crept across the empty yard.
“Let’s check out the view from those guard towers,” Dan suggested, making his way to the nearest one.
It sat in the southeast corner of the prison and offered a full view of both the prison yard and south down Collins Street.
“Commanding view,” Dan remarked after letting out a whistle at the devastation that could be seen from this vantage point. “And we should be able to see anything coming from a goddamn long ways off.”
“I think we’ve seen enough for today. How about we find a place to set up camp for the night?” Chris asked.
Dan’s neck creaked with audible snaps as he turned his head around while he was in mid-stretch. “How about the old prison fire station?”
They walked back down the steps and over to the two-story structure. The walls inside had outlines where the various axes, picks and shovels would have been stored while the prison was open. This made it easy for the guards to make sure nothing was missing. The tools were now long gone. As they finished clearing the second story, Chris knew this was exactly what they were looking for. It was in surprisingly good shape besides the ever present peeling paint. The garage door was intact and still could be opened from the inside. It had a large second floor and a narrow stairwell that one person could barricade and hold basically forever. And it sat nearly dead center in the courtyard.
Dropping their rucksacks, they both went exploring for something to use for their fire pit and ended up settling for a heavy metal trash can. They found a large supply of scrap lumber inside a warehouse-sized building which had been used as a workshop area for prisoners. Taking several trips, they amassed a large enough pile to last throughout the night. A short while later with a fire going, they had a couple of cans of Campbell’s Chunky soup heating up on top of a metal grate Dan had found. After a meal to fill their bellies, they broke out some baby wipes to take a whore bath. They settled in for the night and talked about how to best start rehabbing the prison to make it livable.
“We can start on a list of chores in the morning,” Dan decided. “I’m out for tonight. By the way, I got a hold of Stephen on the radio and let him know we made it and that we had his dog.”
He took a last swig from his bottle of Jack Daniels and handed it to Chris, who politely refused.
“Suit yourself,” Dan said with a shrug.
Soon both were asleep, leaving Buddy to wander the yard on a patrol of sorts, knowing they were now in the safest place in the city.
28
September 14
Day 20
Four days later found me giving a demonstration of how to fight these zombies to another large group of guards. I stood on a platform overlooking our new zombie killing field to the west of the safe zone. The ranks of the guards had increased as of late with new recruits being added at my prodding. Councilman Lewis still did not want to give up the guns. Even Troy Lundell, the reporter, wanted to sit in. Jack, the security chief, was hoping to have me offer up any new tactics or insights on how to fight the zombies more effectively, and I had been lecturing a different group each day.
I again started by telling them that the infected were no longer thinking human beings.
“If you hesitate because your target is a woman or a child, or an elderly subject, you will die,” I said. “After they eat their fill, if there’s enough of your flesh left, you will then rise and try to eat the rest of us yourselves."
I realized I was starting to pace back and forth, and anger was in my voice.
“Anyone who can’t stomach what needs to be done can just leave now. The infected will stop at nothing to get into the safe zone.”
I pointed to the wall behind me where there were already a few examples moaning, trying to scale the wrecked vehicles that made up the perimeter wall. Several additional attempts to reinforce the barrier were met with mixed results over the past few days. Mostly it was still stacked, crushed cars. The ghouls jockeyed with one another for position in the front, trying to get just a few inches closer to a living meal. I frowned at their endless energy.
After pausing for effect I continued. “Once they find you, they will not leave unless they are led away by another meal. As far as we know, only major head trauma seems to stop them. If you run out of ammo, a rifle can become a blunt instrument in a pinch. But I would not recommend it unless your life is in danger. Because who wants to hold a bloody rifle after you bash in a skull with it? This is why everyone here was issued a baseball bat or shovel. Like I said, don’t hesitate to swing, one bite from them is all it takes to turn you into one of them.”
Still pacing, I watched the group of guards, hoping that what I was saying set in. I knew that we would not be staying here much longer and their survival after we left depended on what I was saying.
“I don’t know how long it takes to turn, but if one of them bites you, just be assured I will not hesitate to kill you myself. It isn’t personal, it’s just survival. My friends and I have traveled a long way battling these zombies every inch, and I refuse to die because someone else does some dumb shit that gets us all killed."
Stopping for a drink of water, I then continued my lecture.
"Another thing we have learned is sound attracts them. Also, when one shows up it is like they send out a signal that food is to be had or something, and more are always close behind.”
I could see the mood of the group was growing tenser. I turned and lifted my M4 in one move, and fired three quick shots, taking three zombies, all in the skull. The infected dropped in mid-moan and remained still. The one remaining infected didn’t even try to escape.
I pointed to three of the new guards. “You three, go bash its head in. You folks need to see what it takes to do it by hand.”
All three paled visibly, but did as told and climbed onto the hood of an old Chevy Caprice and began whacking wildly at the zombie standing below. What they lacked in skill they more than made up in enthusiasm. After both of its arms were broken in several places and most of its teeth knocked out, they managed to inflict enough head damage to destroy whatever makes it function. Breathing hard, they all turned back with shit eating grins and gave each other high fives.
“A little messy but I like your dedication to finishing the job,” I commended as I pointed to the several dozen creatures that were shambling right towards us in the roadway. ”Now do it again.”
* * * * * * * *
Across the safe zone, life for many survivors became a bit of a routine, maybe even comfortable. Firemen could be seen washing their trucks on a daily basis and a poker game had been running for sixteen hours straight in one of the gymnasiums. Piles of now worthless cash lay on the table. Not nearly enough security and supply work was being done, and this was worrying Stephen. A fuel run had been made to keep the generators running but the water pressure at the school was worsening and Stephen knew a raid needed to be assembled soon to check on the pumping station. And that was just at the top of Stephen’s long list. With so much work to be done, now was not the time for fun. He had been running all day and was now spending his free time in the ambulance helping Mattie pack.
Mattie threw the items she held in her hands down in frustration.
“I don’
t know what to pack!” she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “What’s a bug out bag anyway?”
Stephen leaned over and picked up the backpack and spare clothing that she threw down.
“Listen, all you need to pack is whatever you think you might need to use over a three day span,” he explained.
“Why only pack three days’ worth?”
“A Bug out Bag – or B.O.B. – was designed for if you needed to flee your home, with the idea that your destination should be within a radius of how far you could go in three days, hoping that whatever made you leave was not as bad as where you were trying to get to.”
“That makes sense I guess," she replied, "but it won’t take three days to reach the prison.”
Stephen shook his head. “We don’t know that. The drawbridges over the river might be up, or we might have to hole up somewhere. The zombies between here and the prison might be too thick to make it, and we may have to go elsewhere for now.”
“I see, so a lot of food, water and ammo.”
“Basically yes, throw in a change of clothes and personal hygiene stuff,” Stephen suggested.
Since most of their personal belongings and weapons were loaded onto the school bus Dan had taken, they didn’t have much in the way of personal property left. Stephen didn’t have much to do other than help Mattie pack, and he leaned against the interior wall of the ambulance, his attention distracted by what he saw.
Mattie rattled on about how horrible this all was, but Stephen didn’t catch a word of it, as he had a most excellent view down her shirt. As luck would have it, that’s all she had on up top. That is, besides a little gold locket that was resting in the most perfect location.
Mattie paused after she realized she was doing all the talking and looked up at Stephen, who didn’t notice she had gone silent. A few seconds ticked by and it finally dawned on him that she was watching him look down her shirt and that he had been caught red handed. This was after he had frequently yelled at Dan for the same offense.