by Mike Fosen
They had returned from their morning mission of checking the status of the roadways from here to the far west side of town. Stephen was going to handle the debriefing, and I trusted him to ask the right questions. This raid, while simple enough, was turning out to be a very important one that the majority of our inhabitants were looking forward to. Somehow apparently, word had gotten out to survivors who had been holed up in their homes that shelter and protection was to be had in our compound. I was sure the fact that our generator was now up and running and had the perimeter lights blazing at night had something to do with it. Refugees were turning up a few at a time. Last count had us now at over eighty people and growing.
While it was good to have strength in numbers, the problem was that we really did not have anywhere to put them. The cellblocks of the prison were so inundated with mold and mildew that had not been cleaned in several years that people would rather sleep outdoors in tents. This was fine for the time being, but colder weather was coming. Seeing several elderly persons and young children among our ranks finally pushed me to action. I knew of a large RV dealer on the west side of town that had well over one hundred campers of all different sizes. That was the purpose of our raid today, to acquire shelter for the men and women that now looked to us for their very survival. I picked out about two dozen volunteers to go on this raid and choose their own shelter to bring back to the compound. There was plenty of room in the large prison yard to accommodate the campers. This process would most likely take a few days with several trips necessary to transport all available campers to our current location, but in the end should be well worth it.
This was just one of the various projects we were juggling at the prison this day. Mattie took it upon herself to interview each new addition to our stronghold to find out what they did before the current zombie invasion. We wouldn’t want a baker to be our electrician, you know? So far she had done a good job of finding everyone something to do. Several pencil pushers were now tallying up our current supply situation and working up lists of what we had and what we needed, and I told them to work up a priority list as well. Glancing over at a small group comprised of our newly arrived electricians I saw they had gotten the large generator hooked up to a new junction box and had it up and running. The generator already was running the lights on our walls and the water pump to the well. Now it would be able to provide power and lights for inside the various buildings that needed to be cleaned up, made livable, and put to use. Next I would like them to start running electric lines similar to what a campground has set up for RVs.
Stephen finished questioning the scouts and sent them off to grab a bite to eat.
“Scouts say the way is mostly clear all the way out to the RV store,” he told me. “The roads are passable but will take some time to navigate through.”
“Why don’t we send a team out with the front end loader to clear us a nice path?”
The sound of the huge tractor starting up right then made me grin.
“Yeah, I thought the same thing,” Stephen replied. “The driver will clear a path just like we did on our generator run.”
“Sounds good,” I decided. “Go grab the rest of the crew to go over the raid operational plans.”
“I’m on it,” Stephen said and he jogged off.
A short time later Dan, Chris, Stephen and Mattie, along with a few others, gathered around as I sketched out the route we planned to take.
“I have been told that the route we will use is mostly clear. For the tight spots we are going to use the loader to clear the way like a fullback. Those RVs are going to need plenty of room to maneuver. Once we get to the RV store, we need to clear out any zombies and set up a perimeter. After it is secured, we can start hooking trailers up to the trucks. Dan has been working on that and we have ten trucks ready to drag campers back here. As far as the security phase of our raid, I’ll hand over that portion of the briefing to Stephen.”
“Thanks, Mike,” Stephen said. “We’ve got about two dozen people going with us, so it is our largest operation to date. Those assigned to me will help drive the trucks and assist hooking up the trailers, depending on the size of zombie contact we run into, that is. Everyone may become a shooter if it gets too hot. There are several motor homes on the lot there as well, and I’d like to grab them too. I really think this’ll take some time to accomplish, so we need to be on our toes and aware of our surroundings at all times. The people assigned to Chris and Dan will secure the road and main gate. The property is surrounded by an eight-foot chain link fence. Worst case scenario, we can close the gate and hole up short term. We’ll have radio contact with our group here and can call for reinforcements if need be. Mike, your buddy Frank will be monitoring the radio.”
Everyone nodded that they understood the plan.
“Do any of you have questions regarding the mission?” he asked.
Mattie raised her hand. “We’ll be passing several pharmacies along the way; is there a chance we could stop and clean them out for medications? Also, I would like to dedicate a large camper for a field hospital. We’ve got a few women now who were nurses, and they could use the space to work out of, at least until we can get the prison infirmary cleaned out, sanitized and re-stocked.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Mattie,” Stephen said and she beamed with the praise. “If everything goes well, we’ll see that it happens.
I began to roll up the map and stared at everyone. “Alright folks, let’s get this ball rolling, I want to be back before dark. Fall is here for sure, and it’s getting dark earlier, which gives us five or six hours once we get rolling.”
Making my way back to Dan’s bus, I threw the map inside along with my Bug out Bag. One could never plan on anything going as planned these days, and I didn’t want to be stuck somewhere without the proper gear. I checked to make sure I had my favorite weapons: my select fire Colt M4, Glock 17 handgun and for a more hands on approach, my beat up aluminum baseball bat and ballistic police shield. Dan had a box full of loaded rifle magazines next to his driver’s seat.
Finally, after all the drivers and other volunteers were loaded, we signaled to Casper, who opened the prison’s huge metal sliding doors. He had turned out to be a dedicated worker in charge of the main gate and had it down to a science. As we filed out of the prison with the huge John Deere leading the way, the gate closed behind us and we made our way to the downtown area with relative ease. Entering the business district of downtown, it appeared that Kettle and his men had been busy. The area he claimed had been fortified significantly. As we passed by their perimeter, their guards looked even more menacing. They didn’t respond to my friendly wave or Dan’s subsequent middle finger.
“Hey boss, look there,” Dan remarked, pointing to his right.
Next to Kettle’s main gate area there were two corpses hanging by their necks from streetlights. Based on their mutilated condition, I couldn’t tell if they had been zombies or not.
“Something tells me we’re going to have issues with that freak someday. More likely sooner than later.”
The sweet smell of Dan’s Cuban cigar filled the bus as we idled forward.
“Never been the religious type, but something about that Kettle guy says that he is using the church in order to tell people what to do and get what he wants,” Dan remarked. “And the way he was staring at Mattie when we first met him was like a crackhead about to get his fix.”
I was just about to remind him that he also sometimes had that same look when looking at Mattie when a female volunteer that was riding with us squeezed past me.
“Could you please put out your cigar?” she asked. “It’s a disgusting habit and giving me a headache.”
“Absolutely!” Dan responded cheerfully. “But first show me your tits.”
The woman was shocked. “What did you just say?”
“You want the cigar put out, I want to see some tits. Let’s deal,” Dan answered with a serious tone.
The woman was ob
viously not used to Dan’s blunt politically incorrect conversations and blushed a deep red.
“Why I n-never!” she stammered.
“Well you should try it,” Dan joked. “Looks like you have a nice rack hidden under there.”
As the mortified woman went back to her seat, I looked at him like that family member people didn’t like to admit they were related to.
“Do you always have to be an asshole?” I asked laughing.
The bus abruptly stopped, and my head slammed into the windshield after Dan hit the brakes and then accelerated again.
“That was being an asshole,” he chuckled with his teeth clenched around his cigar. “All I wanted was to see some tits… I’m a harmless old man.”
* * * * * * * *
As the convoy rolled over the bridge, Kettle was sitting in his office at the church going over some numbers with a staff member.
“How many guards do we now have on the walls?” Kettle asked his bookkeeper.
“At the present time around thirty-five,” the man responded. “The men we found yesterday have not been deployed yet. We got them doing odd jobs to make sure they are trustworthy. A couple of them look promising, however.”
“Very well,” Kettle mused. “There is much to do around this place. And how are we set on supplies?”
“A little better,” the man replied after checking some numbers. “Our recent supply runs have been very effective. We’re a little low on alcohol, though.”
“The devil’s brew,” Kettle stated with a scowl. “I seldom partake myself, but it certainly helps keep the men content.”
Kettle had other urges to deal with, and they were again occupying his thoughts.
“I wish my brother was here,” Kettle complained. “He was always much better with numbers than I. He could deal with all of this mundane shit while I attended to more important matters.”
“Yes, Father,” the man automatically agreed without much actual thought.
A knock at the door jarred Kettle from his daydream of his latest conquest. There had been so many cleansings of late, yet the woman Mattie still consumed him.
“Enter,” Kettle commanded.
The guard entered and informed Kettle of the convoy from the prison that passed by to the south.
“Are my men shadowing them?” Kettle asked.
“Yes, Father,” the guard answered. “They reported in after the convoy passed.”
“Very good!” Kettle said after some thought. “I want you to take some additional men and go set up a surprise of some sort for them on their return trip.”
“Any ideas?” the guard asked.
“Whatever you can come up with is fine,” Kettle stated forcefully. “Just be careful and be sure Mattie is taken unharmed. And don’t forget, this can’t come back on us!”
“Yes, Father,” the man responded with a grin. “I shall see to it personally.”
39
September 27
Day 33
Once our caravan made it to Jefferson Street, the going was much easier since it was a four lane road. Within minutes we were nearing the halfway point of our journey, where the roads were clearing up, when I noticed up ahead a large group of zombies surrounding a two-story brick building. The top floor looked like it was an apartment; the bottom floor was a business. The sign on the building was named Curves. It was a weight loss place for women to go and feel good about themselves. The building had a pile of dead zombies damn near five feet deep around the first floor of the structure.
“Looks like someone is holed up in the apartment up there,” I observed.
I radioed back to Stephen, who was riding at the rear of the convoy and filled him in on what I saw.
“Looks to be well over a hundred zombies surrounding the building.”
“You want to stop and help?” he asked.
“I think so,” I replied, tapping Dan on the shoulder and signaling for him to pull over.
“Lock and load, people,” I said, checking to make sure my own rifle was ready.
Our convoy slowed to a stop in the street, and we disembarked from the vehicles and began to engage the zombies just as we started to draw their attention.
The roar of two dozen firearms filled the air as we quickly decimated the zombies. This was the largest single group we had come across since the safe zone clusterfuck. It was not a good sign that they were starting to gather again. Once the zombies were cleared, Stephen led a team to check on survivors. Still in need of training, the teams awkwardly attended to their tasks. As our people were dragging some bullet riddled corpses away from the front door, it suddenly was kicked open from the inside. A tall, large framed individual dressed in brand new multi-cam digital camouflage appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a new Kevlar helmet with night vision goggles tilted back, elbow pads, knee pads, and brand new boots.
“Holy fuck that was awesome!” the man yelled. “You guys have no idea how long we have been stuck inside here!”
Stephen was a little taken aback. “No problem. What’s your name?”
The man rolled his eyes like he’d just forgotten to zip his pants. “Oh, I dropped the ball brother. My name is James, James Logan. My friend here is…”
James looked behind him and didn’t see anyone.
“What the fu…?” He leaned back into the doorway. “Hey, Kleaner, get the hell down here ASAP! You got to meet these guys!”
From inside, we heard footsteps running down some stairs, followed by someone loudly falling the rest of the way down. A loud crash signaled the end of the journey for whoever it was, concluding with several very good curse words. Stephen looked over at me and arched an eyebrow. I just shrugged back to him. A stocky, disheveled looking man practically fell out the door. He was dressed exactly like Logan.
Logan grabbed the man around the shoulders with his left arm.
“Everyone, this is Jeff Kleaner,” Logan announced proudly.
Logan explained that they had been cooped for the past couple of weeks and even though they had killed many of the zombies that had surrounded their place, more and more would show up. They had plenty of MREs, however, and hadn’t been too worried about starvation just yet. Along with a huge stockpile of ammunition for their high-end Bushmaster ACR rifles, they could snipe them as long as they wished.
“We could’ve left, I guess, but didn’t know where to go. We heard a monstrous explosion a while ago and could see from our roof that it came from the high school safe zone set up by the powers that be,” Logan said. “Looks like someone there pissed off the Air Force!”
Kleaner chimed in for the first time. “If you guys need two more high speed trigger men, we’d be happy to join you folks. I’m getting tired of listening to my buddy snore every night. When we had electricity, I could drown him out with the TV!”
Stephen nodded. “We’d love the help and are on the way to go get supplies. We can stop by on the way back. That’ll give you guys plenty of time to get your shit together. By the way, you guys look familiar. What did you do before this shit storm?”
“We worked security at the shopping mall,” Logan told them. “Kind of a big deal, ya know? We got all kinds of training in security and such.”
“Well, we got just the place for you to keep on lockdown friends. Now pack your shit and be ready to roll!” Stephen yelled while returning to the convoy, which was preparing to pull out.
Logan and Kleaner gave a whoop of excitement, gave each other a chest bump then ran inside and upstairs to pack. The rest of us filed back to our vehicles and the convoy again proceeded west.
The rest of the trip to the RV lot was largely uneventful. Slowing to a stop in front of the business, we saw rows and rows of undamaged campers just waiting to be looted. I climbed out of Dan’s bus with a set of bolt cutters. With a bit of effort, the cheap lock parted, and I swung back the chain link gate. After the entire convoy entered the fenced-in lot, I shut the gate and secured it with a new lock, leaving the key wit
h it. As people walked excitedly among the campers, I made my way exactly to the one I wanted. I used to patrol this area before the outbreak and had answered several alarm calls at this business. Walking to the southwest corner of the property, I found my prize.
Taking up a huge chunk of real estate was a brand new blue and silver luxury bus RV. The sticker stated it was a Tiffin Phaeton Class A diesel blah, blah, blah… for the low, low price of $244,995 dollars. I jogged over to the main building where Stephen had located the lockbox with the keys for all the camper doors. Spotting the keys labeled Tiffin, I snagged them off the board. Exiting the building, I ran into Mattie looking around at the various fifth wheel pull-behind campers and travel trailers on the lot.
“Find one yet, Mattie?”
“I found one that’ll work nicely for the field hospital. I have it hooked up and ready to go,” she said while walking with me. “Have I found one for myself? No, not yet. I might have to bunk with somebody.”
“I might have some space in my pop-up camper I picked out,” I lied.
“But there are so many others you could take, Mike, why did you pick a pop up trailer?” she questioned.
“You know me, Mattie. I’m not a flashy material guy; simple stuff for a simple man,” I countered.
I just happened to finish what I was saying as I stopped at the door to the huge RV. Realization slowly dawned on her face as I unlocked the door.
“I might be able to put you up for a few days, but the first month you are late on the rent I will toss you out,” I said with mock sincerity.
With a girlish laugh of glee, Mattie sprinted on board the RV. While she was looking into every nook and cranny, I spent some time trying to figure out how the hell the thing started. The dashboard looked like the control panel of an airliner. Finally the huge diesel rumbled to life, and I gave a little cheer of success. Next to the driver’s seat was a big control panel where I found the interior light switch. Throwing the switch, I could see why the damn thing cost so much.
“The owners really must rough it when they go out camping in this beast,” I remarked, shaking my head in wonder at the plush interior.