I'm Tired of Zombies | Book 2 | Full Scale War

by Murphy, James W.

  He nodded and turned to go upstairs but turned back and held his gnarled hand out. I shook it and he, looking me in the eye, nodded again and went back inside to go upstairs without a word. A lot was silently transmitted as we looked at each other eye-to-eye and shook hands for the third time. I suddenly felt a lot more confident in our ability to defend our valley. In addition, it was going to be a great celebration tonight. I went inside and took two aspirins, knowing I was going to have a headache tomorrow.

  I sat in front of the fire thinking about the three men. They were a trio and to have made it through the past five years, they apparently had some great survival skills. I wondered about the stories they would share. Their adventures would be the stuff that sold books. I’m sure it was part of their training background as Marines, but they were always alert, eyes always moving looking and taking in everything. The next few days would be interesting.

  Three hours later, Dave and I woke the travelers and told them to come on down when they were ready. We’d already opened the bottle of scotch and had the glasses out set to fill. I had the fire started for the steaks and it was almost ready. The potatoes had cooked, and the girls had readied everything else. It was going to be a nice dinner. Ruth had broken out two more loaves of my bread and cut them into thick slices for the men if they wanted. Ruth had already told the rest of us the men could have whatever they wanted that we had.

  Once the three were downstairs, I poured the first round of scotch and handed each a tumbler of the fiery liquid. I lifted my glass and said, “Here’s to new friendships. May they last a lifetime.” The seven of us clinked glasses and tossed back the first shot of the evening. The three Marines felt the liquid go down and all three had smiles. I refilled the glasses and said I needed to get the steaks on the grill. All three volunteered to help.

  Out the back door of the kitchen, the five of us stood around the grill and talked while watching the beef sizzle on the fire. All three of the Marines were quiet men; strong both physically and mentally; ever aware of their surroundings and their eyes always moving, taking in everything. It literally reminded me of three radar domes, always scanning for danger. I couldn’t help but be calmed by their presence.

  Jack had spilled the beans telling me they had been on foot for almost three months. Dave jumped in at that point and said, “That won’t do. Tomorrow we go to Laramie and get you men a vehicle, or vehicles depending on what you want.”

  “They got a Harley dealer over there?” Jeff asked.

  Dave shrugged and looked at me. I shrugged also and said, “I couldn’t tell you as I was never one for motorcycles.”

  “Me neither,” Dave added. “As a cop, I put more dead motorcyclists in body bags than motorists. That’s what kept me from riding one.”

  “You were a cop?” Dan asked.

  “Deputy Sheriff, Albany County, at your service,” Dave said with a smile. “I still consider myself a deputy, even though I don’t get paid anymore. This is Albany County and I still live in it and fight for it. Gotta protect and serve the public,” he said pointing at me, adding “…since he, Julia and Ruth are the only three left that we know of.”

  That got a chuckle from the group of men watching meat cook, sipping scotch. Six more minutes and the steaks, cooked to perfection, were stacked on a big platter that Dave held and the five of us went inside. Julia and Ruth had everything else on the table ready to go and had put the leaves in the table and added more chairs. Dave set the platter of meat in the middle and I invited everyone to have a seat.

  “Please bow your heads,” I asked everyone. “Dear Father in Heaven, we thank you…”

  I had more fun watching the three Marines eat than anything. They were the floorshow that night. They thanked us immensely throughout and when they were finished eating the grand meal.

  “I haven’t had anything like that in years and years,” Jeff said, patting his abdomen. Jack and Dan agreed and sat back in their chairs. The trio had cleaned the table. All the eggs and bread were gone. Their plates held ‘T’ bones denuded of meat and wadded up paper towels we used as napkins. Nothing was left.

  “Gentlemen, I bet you three sleep like logs tonight,” Julia said with a smile. “I’ve never seen anyone eat like the three of you did this evening.”

  “Forgive us ma’am, if we were unmannered,” Jack said. “It has been a very long time since the three of us sat at a table and eaten a meal of this caliber. Thank you all for inviting us in. I must tell you we’re…well, surprised that you’re here. We haven’t seen another human, other than those people in the black trucks…in years.”

  “Where did you come from?” Ruth asked.

  “I’m originally from the west side of the Black Hills in South Dakota, a little town called Spearfish, wasn’t actually born there, just close. My Dad had a little place a few miles southwest of town, up in the mountains.”

  “How about you?” Julia asked Jeff.

  “New Jersey, ma’am, Holland, New Jersey, almost in Pennsylvania,” he answered. “Dad had a small farm out there. I got drafted in ’68 and spent three tours in Nam. When I got back to the world, I just drifted and wound up here in Wyoming. Fell in love with the place and stayed, cowboying around making a buck here and there. Met Nemo in Nam and remembered him saying he lived out here somewhere and…well, the rest is history.”

  “How about you Dan. Where do you hail from?” Ruth asked.

  “Heh, I was born at the juncture of Highway 50 and Clarkelen Road, Wyoming. Dad was trying to get Mom to hospital up in Gillette when I decided to pop. Dad said he pulled over at the junction and learned real quick how to birth a baby. Said I came out yelling. I got drafted in ’67 and spent five years in the Marines, two tours in the Nam.”

  “The three of us have been paling around for years, just seemed right. We’ve been cowboys all over the four-state region, South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado, and Wyoming. Vietnam kinda changed a lot of men and we prefer the outdoors to living in a town or city. Too many people if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” I said. “That’s why I built out here - quieter, peaceful, tranquil… At first, all I had to worry about were the animals. Now I have to worry about zombies, bears, lions, drones and people running amok in black cars.”

  “Well, we’d like to help with those folks in the black cars,” Jeff said with determination. “I have a real bone to pick with a few of ‘em.”

  “Me, too,” Jack said. “They want a fight; we can sure oblige ‘em.” The way he said it gave the four residents chills.

  “I guess that means I’m in, too,” Dan added. “We can sure put a hurtin’ on their day when the time comes, especially since they don’t know we’re here.”

  “I’ve already been thinking about that,” I said. “They don’t know you’re here. They only know about the four of us and think we’re it. I think we could bring them in, giving them a false sense of security knowing where the four of us are, thinking they’re about to get us, and spring another ambush on ‘em. But that’s something to discuss another time. I bet you three men would like another shot of scotch and then a nice warm bed to sleep in – am I right?”

  “Indeed,” Jeff said with a smile.

  Mid afternoon the next day, the seven of us were sitting in the great room at my place, discussing our plans and getting their recommendations. We told them about the drone idea, bombing the convoy and using a similar ambush to the one we used before. We showed them the point on the map where we wanted to set up and why. They agreed that would be a nice place, but asked if we were absolutely positive, they would come from that direction. That we did not know.

  They talked about the drone the doc flew over our places and Dave told them he had it over at his place. They would want to see it to determine if it had infrared capability or not. If it did, then they certainly knew where both homes were. They were not sure about the Underground and since Dave and I had not told the three Marines about his underground facility Sam Burke had built, we ke
pt it quiet for the time being.

  They asked what kinds of weapons we had and if we had enough ammunition so they could have full loads. All four of us looked at them and smiled. I said, “Come on guys, follow me. Dave…” I got up and went to the armory door and unlocking it, asked them to follow Dave and I down.

  Suitably impressed was not a good definition from their looks. Surprised tremendously by what I had in there, I surprised them again when I told them I had another room almost as full up in the Underground. I showed them the grenades and the additional ammunition I had on hand and told them we would outfit them with whatever they needed or wanted out of our supply.

  Jeff almost had a heart attack when he saw the M79, forty-millimeter grenade launchers stacked alone in a corner. We had four of the oversized shotgun-looking things. He looked at me and asked, “You have ammo for those things?”

  I took a few steps over to a green ammo case and opening it, pointed. His smile said it all. He came over and withdrew two belts of the grenades holding twenty rounds each, and holding them out to Dan and Jack said, “We got ‘em now, boys.”

  “That’s what he carried in Nam,” Dan explained. “He was the best man over there with a forty. The thumpers will be good weapons to have.”

  “Thumpers?” Dave asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what we call those things in Nam,” Dan explained.

  Jeff added, “Because of the sound they make when you fire them, a thump…thumpers.”

  “Ahhhh,” Dave said with a nod.

  “What other surprises do you have in here?” Jack asked.

  “Here’s the rack,” I said pointing. “This is our selections of rifle or shotgun we have here. Save the fifties, their up in the Underground.”

  “You have fifties?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah, I have one and Dave has a few over at his place. I had two and both were destroyed in fighting the guys in the black vehicles. Dave gave me the one I have now and it’s a beautiful beast. Semi auto with a twelve round magazine and I have ten magazines ready to go, plus the one in the rifle.”

  “Okay, looks good,” Dan, said. “How much ammo do you have for all of this?”

  Dave and I looked at each other and smiled and I said, “Several million rounds of .556 caliber, several hundred-thousand rounds of .308 caliber, a lot of which is belted, and about…oh…close to ten thousand rounds of nine-millimeter. For the forty-millimeters, I think we have two-hundred fifty rounds or so, twelve-gauge shotgun shells I think twenty-five hundred or so. That’d do?”

  “Where in the world did you get it all?” Jack asked.

  “Some from the Army National Guard base down in Colorado,” I explained. “The majority came from the Air Force base over in Cheyenne, and there is still a great deal left there. We broke into their storage bunkers and found literally millions of rounds of M4 and M240 Bravo ammo. That’s where we found the forties, by the way. We were disappointed we didn’t find more nine-millimeter.”

  “Disappointed…sounds like you made out just fine if you ask me,” Jeff said with a smile.

  “Let me give you the rundown on what I have stashed around the place, too,” I said, then explained about the caches around the house and up in the Underground near the hatches, what I had in the garage and in the barn.

  Dave kicked in then and told them about what he had over at his place, leaving out the underground facility I noted. He told them about the small place behind his and said they could live there if they wanted as it had power from his place and water.

  Dan looked at me and said, “It would be nice if the three of us could look around your valley and see the terrain for ourselves. Knowing the terrain is half the battle sometimes.”

  “I understand,” I said. “We can give you the bird’s eye view from the map app in my computer, and we can fly one of the drones around if you want and you can see everything from the air. That’s come in handy for us on more than one occasion.”

  “How about the two of you taking us on a tour of the valley tomorrow?” Jack asked.

  “Sure, we can take one of the big trucks,” Dave said. “We’ll load up for Zs and get the ladies to fix us a snack pack, coffee and extra water and we’ll make a day of it.”

  I said, “No time like the present to load up for Zs. Here, gentlemen, have an M4, a nine-millimeter, and a shotgun. Here are twenty-one magazines, loaded, for the M4s and nines, and a bandolier of twelve-gauge double aught buck for each of you.”

  “Can I have one of these and a belt?” Jeff asked.

  “Sure,” I said and handed him one of each. The man’s smile behind the beard was a delight to see, as if he were greeting an old friend. He thumbed the release mechanism, the barrel dropped, and he held it up to the light ensuring the barrel was clear.

  “This baby needs a cleaning,” Jeff said to no one in particular.

  Dan asked Jeff, “What’s the load out on the belt?

  Jeff held the belt up and said, “All but six are HE. The four are close up 576ers, buck shot canister rounds and two smokes. I need a vest.”

  “A vest?” I asked Jeff.

  “Yeah, they make a vest some call a chest rig that holds up to thirty rounds of 40mm,” he said. “These belts are fine, but only hold twenty and can get in the shooters way. A chest rig would be much better.”

  I looked at Dave and together we smiled.

  “What,” came from, Dan.

  I gave Dave the nod and he explained, “We talked earlier about maybe going back to the Air Force base in Cheyenne, so we can get more C-4 and now, maybe look around for a chest rig for Jeff and what ever else you guys think we might need. We could go by the dealerships, too, and get you guys some trucks.”

  “I’m in,” Dan said.

  “Me, too,” Jeff added.

  “Me three,” Jack said with a smile. “Let’s go shopping.”

  Back up in the great room, I threw another log on the fire and Ruth handed me a refilled mug of coffee. We told the girls about going to Cheyenne and they said go for it and said to remember to get what was on the white board lists.

  “When are you going so, we can fix you a snack pack and some sandwiches?” Julia asked.

  “Tomorrow we’re taking Dan, Jack and Jeff on a tour of the valley. I figured I’d take them up to the Ranger Station, back through Centennial, to the Highway 11 juncture, then back our way. Maybe show them the Malone’s place and the home in back. If they decide to stay, I think we should show them the three places up on the south ridge and tell them our plans we had for those places.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Dave said, and I could see the wheels turning.

  “Dinner in an hour, guys,” Ruth said.

  We’d plan a trip to Cheyenne over dinner. It was going to be a busy next few day, so we all turned in early.

  Chapter 12: The Seven Prepare

  We were on our way to Cheyenne, the five men, in my truck and hauling a trailer with a fuel tank in case we found suitable trucks for Dan, Jack and Jeff. We stopped at the bulk supply warehouse and got several things we needed out of the remnant of the fire, and the trio added to their clothing supplies with jeans, shirts, socks, and such. All three got farmer jackets and Jeff found a crate filled with heavy-duty work gloves we all would share.

  Loading up, we continued to the access road at the base and stopped at the ammo bunkers. Dave and I showed how we fixed the fencing to allow access and lock it up afterwards so no wandering Zs could get in.

  “You guys are pretty smart,” Jack said.

  “Have to be these days…or die,” Dave said straight-faced. That quieted the group.

  We drove over to the bunkers and giving the men keys and they searched each bunker and pulled out crates of different things we could use. We loaded all the C-4 we could find, and Jack was the one who found the nine-millimeter ammunition. Several million rounds of it. We loaded ten-thousand rounds on the trailer and decided we would make another trip over here in a few days with all the trucks and trailers and
load up as much as we could haul.

  Dave and I were staying with the truck, watching for Zs, when Dan came out of one of the bunkers and waved us over. Once there, he showed us an OD green ammo crate and opening it, showed it contained two missile looking things.

  “What are those?” Dave asked him.

  “MANPADS,” he said. Both of us shrugged our shoulders not knowing what he was talking about. “Man-portable air-defense systems – MANPADS. These are shoulder-fired stingers, surface-to-air missiles, in other words…”

  “Anti aircraft missiles,” Dave answered for him.

  “Right,” Dan agreed. “I was wondering why you didn’t have any of these.”

  “No training on them and fear of just trying one out may have been detrimental to our health,” I explained. “We do have some AT4s, are they similar?”

  Dan said, “Well, sorta; these are the answer to your drone issue with the Doc’s guys. If we suspect one is around, we can heft a few of these and light ‘em up. These are FIM 92G, Stinger, anti-aircraft missiles. Once they’re lit up, they can detect an aircraft out to almost five miles and knock it down. They have improved performance that can withstand jamming and other things that may interfere with its capabilities. In other words, once this thing locks on to a target and you fire it, the target is dead.”

  Ski ambled over and said, “We need a hundred of those things.”

  Dan snickered, saying, “There are eight crates for sixteen. That’s all she wrote, brother.”

  “It’ll have to do then,” Ski said. “We’ll kill as many as they send over. Found more forty-mike-mike rounds – Jack helped me load ‘em.”

  “Good,” Dan responded. “We should be well off for weapons and ammo then.”

  “Time to get tranquil and see what’s coming,” Ski, said, solemnly then walked off, head hanging low.

  “What’s he mean by getting tranquil and see what’s coming?” I asked Dan.

  “Visualization…seeing the upcoming problem, or in our case, battle, transpire through tranquil thoughts. It’s a thing we learned from the Japanese. To sit, get comfortable, close one’s eyes, and meditate on a particular problem. That way one can forecast a suitable solution to the issue, one that will be most beneficial to the one meditating on it.”