OUTNUMBERED (Book 5)

by Schobernd, Robert

  "So you don't want to go and see what's happened to her?"

  "If you'd asked me to help wipe out a random bunch of zombies, I'd volunteer in a second. But if you want to give people who have feelings for a particular person a chance to go, ask someone else." He turned to leave then turned back. "I hope you don't harbor bad feeling toward me because of this."

  I shook my head. "No, I'm okay with you telling the truth about how you feel about her. In fact there's someone else eager to take your place."

  We gathered by three trucks as the sun rose. Rain had stopped falling an hour earlier, leaving the air fresh and clean. Sunbeams struggled to break through thin, dark cloud cover as they created pink and grayish-blue tones across the horizon.

  Before I could get in a truck, Glen Whycoff hollered for me to wait. His oldest son, Allen, stood beside him carrying a rifle. "Do we have room for Allen to come? He was close to his aunt and uncle and he's set on coming along." Allen stood silent but cast a determined look.

  I extended my right hand to the young man. "There's room. Get in the Expedition."

  We clasped hands, and he grinned. "Thanks, Tom, I'll do my part." I'd coached Allen on the rifle and pistol ranges and knew he wouldn't be a liability to the group.

  Within the hour, the sun shone brightly and the highway surface had dried. Speed limit signs still proclaimed “70 MPH,” but we never felt safe running above sixty. Most of the time, we were limited to fifty due to debris on the roadways. Whole trees had fallen across lanes, abandoned or wrecked cars and trucks still blocked some traffic lanes, and in some stretches, rotting zombies littered the roads like the bones from a slaughter house had been jettisoned from an airplane.

  My wrist watch showed almost eleven when our convoy closed in on the Masters’ farm. We parked a quarter mile from the lane leading to the compound and formed two groups. Kira was with me as were Glen and Allen. Mitch, Junior, and Vince, rounded out my crew. Our group went past the lane and found a hedge tree row that would take us near the north side of Tim's compound. We had two large dogs with us, and Ed's crew had two. Our male lab was black and the lean female was tan. I looked to the west; dark clouds formed and were moving in fast. Still, fall air had been replaced with a cool light breeze.

  The three houses, a barn and sheds loomed in the distance through low hanging hedge branches. Dense weeds three to five feet high formed a barrier outside the hedge canopy that created an alleyway for us to walk under if the tallest stooped slightly.

  We were almost beside the three houses when shots rang out. No movement had been seen until then. But afterward, four zombies appeared; I recognized all of them. Vera, Willie, Jake, and Zeb all crouched between the two north houses and stared wild-eyed. All were in clear sight. The seven of us lined up and fired in the space of two seconds. Vera and Jake jerked their heads toward us at the first gunshots. They attempted to flee, but hot lead hit its targets. All four of our undead ex-friends crumpled to the ground. It always felt strange to shoot zombies we'd previously known and interacted with as human friends. It was a new way of life we'd had to adapt to.

  More shots rang out in the distance. Ed's group had more targets.

  I called Ed on the radio. "We got four. How are you faring?"

  "Seven. Yours makes eleven, and that leaves four to find. Out"

  We split into two smaller groups. "Be careful, remember the training we did for searching buildings. Keep you wits about you and don't get careless. These are zombies, not your friends or relatives."

  Kira, Mitch, and I crept past the houses toward the sheds and the barn. The other four were behind us and soon split away. The hedge row continued past the houses but ended fifty feet away at a road from the barn. We were focused on the red metal barn a hundred yards off. The dogs stiffened and snarled a low warning. The danger was near, but where? The dogs were focused on the brush to our left. In a blazing flurry, Mable Jones popped up from the weed patch no more than twelve feet from us and charged. Her speed and strength plowed through the growth like a tank thru upright paper straws. She lunged straight toward me; I dodged to the side as I twisted my body toward her. The three of us swung our rifles and fired from the hip. At least fourteen bullets hit Mable, starting at her stomach and walking up her torso to her chest, neck and head. Her momentum carried Mable between me and Kira. Fingers on her left hand snagged my jacket and spun me around until they lost their purchase. Mable foundered and collapsed in the weeds. The dogs were on her before her carcass smacked the ground.

  Into the radio, I announced, "Number twelve down."

  Ed came back. "Thirteen down here."

  Aloud I said, "There are two left, stay alert. Mable came way too close for comfort. Kira, eyes left. Mitch, watch the right and behind us. We're going straight ahead to the big open doors on the barn. Watch for our human friends and don't confuse them with zombies." Our other team split and crept to the left.

  We jogged steadily across the open stretch to the barn and stopped three feet from the yawning ten-foot wide opening. The sky was as dark as dusk and the wind blew leaves and debris across the barn lot. Dust picked up from the bare ground billowed in the breeze and formed miniature dust devils. I smelled rain in the air as I breathed deeply.

  Muted natural light lit the interior ten feet into the cavernous opening. Past the lighted area, shadows deepened to pure darkness. It looked like a great place for evil to lurk with its hungry maw open, waiting for us to step inside and be swallowed. We couldn't let that happen.

  "Stay alert." I stepped forward first and stopped several feet into the dim light. Kira and Mitch breeched the opening before Kira sidestepped to place her back to the wall. A sudden movement in the gloom to my left along the stalls grabbed my attention. On instinct alone, I reacted as a form materialized and took shape. As I closed on her, Kira saw where my attention was focused, tensed, and turned her rifle barrel. The three of us converged at once. Kira's rifle barrel was knocked downward by flailing arms. Rhonda's snarling face and bared teeth threatened as the end of my gun barrel jammed into her body beneath her ribcage. I pulled the trigger as the barrel dug deeper and kept firing. By brute strength alone, I held her at arms length from my wife.

  A loud, deafening screech from behind me threw me into shock for an instant. Rhonda made a high-pitched scream as her hands stopped trying to clutch Kira. Kira's right arm rose, and her Glock fired at nearly point-blank range into Rhonda's chest. One, two, three, four muzzle flashes burned against Rhonda's skin and mutilated clothing. The monster that had been our friend had her hands over her ears as she stopped struggling. I forced Rhonda away from Kira, and she collapsed to the dirt floor in a bloody heap. The irritating noise finally stopped.

  I grabbed Kira and dragged her outside into the dim light where I could examine her. "Are you okay? Did she get to you?" I didn't see any scratches on her face, then looked to her jacket and leather gloves. They were intact. I let out a huge sigh of relief and hugged her tightly.

  She smiled weakly. "I'm okay, I think. There's no pain." She turned to Mitch and smiled at him as he stood with his hand still on the aerosol safety horn on his belt. She rushed to him and hugged him tight and sobbed, "Thank you, thank you."

  The three of us were on high alert as we walked toward the houses. I keyed the radio. "We got number fourteen. It was Rhonda."

  Glen came back over the radio. "We found number fifteen in a closet inside the main house. The panels in the door were broken. It appears Nate committed suicide rather than be bitten."

  Ed walked toward us speaking into the handset. "That's all we expected to find, but be careful. There could be others here. There were in the past."

  I hugged Kira as I replied. "We need to clear the sheds and the barn, then ransack this place and load what we want. I want to be out of here ASAP." Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed close-by. Rain was imminent. I smelled it clearly in the moisture laden air.

  Minutes later, we stopped to eat cold sandwiches and potato salad from ice
chests we'd lugged along. We moved inside the barn as rain drops began to spatter the dust in the barnyard. No one had much to say. We'd lost human friends in one of the worst possible ways imaginable.

  The rainfall was sporadic, and the remaining afternoon was spent loading two trailers and pickups between showers. I'd counted on the two trucks and trailers Tim and Nate had taken from us being onsite, and they were. One was still full and saved us a lot of precious time. After the carnage we'd experienced, everyone was willing to work flat out in the cool temperature to load up and be on our way. Near dusk we finished searching and loading and stopped to eat again. Most of the food items had been found in a large room in the barn, and those susceptible to freeze damage were stashed in the main house. Ed took possession of the weapons and ammunition like they were his grandkids and carefully loaded them in his truck.

  The danger of driving at night had decreased measurably since the zombie hordes had been decimated so savagely by us and by whatever changes the zombie curse had undergone. Thirty minutes after nightfall, we left the zombie carnage as our trucks and trailers slipped and slid down the rutted and muddy dirt lane. The potholed macadam from the Masters’ place took us south until we turned east toward Deliverance. For most of the trip, we were surrounded by scattered rain storms that didn't help cleanse anyone's mood.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Before midnight, we passed through the gates at home and parked. At the office, I posted a meeting notice on the bulletin board for the leadership committee to assemble at two the following afternoon. An hour later, Kira and I had checked on the kids, snacked, bathed, and then snuggled on the couch to talk. Both of us were jacked up due to the stupidity of the group who chose to follow Nate and Tim. They were doomed from the time Joe and Ronnie were released from our secure confinement. We sat in silence touching until I said, "I looked at the door to the room where Joe and Ronnie were confined. The wood was splintered like a mortar round hit it. When they made the transition to zombies, it looked like they kicked and beat the door to smithereens. They must have attacked whoever was in the room, and after those victims turned, the attacks spread until all the others were caught."

  Kira rested her head on my shoulder, "It's a wonder the five who made it here were able to escape."

  "Yes. And it was pure luck that Suzie happened to focus on Molly hiding in the weed cover. If she'd been left, the zombies would undoubtedly have found her, or she would have died of starvation and exposure."

  I kissed Kira, "I'd better get to bed. What's left of tonight is short, and tomorrow's going to be a long day. Are you ready?"

  "No. I'm not relaxed enough to sleep. I'll read for a while."

  After a late continental breakfast the next morning, I sat in our room at my laptop. The more I'd thought about our upcoming move the more advantageous an earlier uprooting appeared. An agenda slowly took shape for submittal to the group. As my ideas flowed, I occasionally tested them on Kira. At first, she rejected the suggestion of an immediate move from Deliverance. Slowly, after much discussion, she accepted my reasoning; and as we spoke, she added good suggestions to fine tune the move. She didn't look forward to the disruption, especially in cold weather, but saw the logic of acting quickly. Focusing on my work was hard with three rambunctious kids wanting dad's attention. I played with them for a short time before Kira took pity on me and gathered them to visit her friends.

  At five minutes before two, the leadership committee assembled. They hadn't been briefed on the purpose of the impromptu gathering, and the entire group appeared curious.

  "You've been asked to meet because I've given a lot of thought to our upcoming move away from here. All of our talks have been based on the premise of an early spring move. I'm now thinking there are many disadvantages to that timing." Several frowns indicated I clearly had their attention.

  "Tilling the overgrown raw ground is going to be a major undertaking. Then getting crops planted during the spring season will require perfect weather if we wait until the ground is prepared. If the weather doesn't cooperate, the ground won't be ready, our crops could fail, and there may be a food shortage. It's a risk I'm not in favor of taking." Several members spoke at once as I passed the meeting agendas around.

  Andrea Michaels was upset and questioned me the loudest, "We discussed this at length this summer and fall. The option that was favored was to hold the move until early spring. Has something specific changed your mind?"

  Everyone was quiet as they waited. "Several issues have caused me to reconsider our option. We've lost fifteen members recently. They were counted on to facilitate the work projects as we moved. That's a big factor in my doubt that we can handle everything we've planned. The schedule was tight before; now it's overloaded.

  I checked the agenda. "Preparing the ground for planting is a huge unknown. With more than ten years’ growth of saplings sprouted there, we may need to run a bulldozer across the acreage first to push the tree roots out. In speaking to Tony recently, I've learned he isn't at all confident the normal farm implements will do the job; the equipment may simply be damaged, because it's not intended or designed for what we need it to do.

  "Then there's the livestock. Barns and livestock pens need to be built before the animals can be moved. The manpower required will overwhelm us if we wait until next year. In addition, Albert will need a building for several years to keep the equipment we have running until our fuel supplies are exhausted and we're forced to resort one hundred percent to horses and mules for transportation and work."

  Thoughtful expressions ensured they followed my logic raptly. "Also, if we move early, we can conserve our gasoline and diesel fuels. We can load the ten thousand gallon fuel truck with diesel and stretch its use out for several years by not having to run the large generators to heat this huge building.

  "Finally, we're still short of cabins to house people. Outside Jefferson City, there's a storage yard with prefab buildings. I propose we look into those and see if some of the larger ones might suffice for Doc's medical building, the armory, an office, four cabins, and any other special needs buildings. That will free up a lot of manpower that otherwise would be used to build additional homes."

  The room went silent as I leaned back in my chair and waited.

  Shane rubbed his forehead before glancing around the table. "November and December are often mild. We could get a lot of work done in those two months if we have crews move and stay there. If enough fuel can be spared, a small generator can be rigged to run the office equipment and to charge battery powered equipment like radios, laptops, battery powered hand tools and so on. It would make the work go faster and prevent losing all of those items as soon as we move."

  Ed looked to Shane, "I like that idea." He addressed the group, "I'm for moving as soon as it can be planned. Is anyone opposed, and do you need more discussion or time to make a decision?" Several shook their heads as others mouthed, "No". "Then let's have a show of hands and see how many agree."

  The impromptu vote was unanimous; we'd be implementing a new moving plan in a few days.

  John asked, "Have you thought about how the manpower we have will be split between here and the new site?"

  "This is open for discussion," I replied. "We have thirty-eight adults, five who are teens or nearly that, and six toddlers. I think fifteen adults and teenagers should be left here to maintain this site, load trailers as needed and manage the livestock. Twenty will relocate to the new site, and we'll use six people to make trips back and forth transporting food, materials and equipment. They can stay over at either facility when they're not on the road. Three of the six need to be competent drivers who can handle heavy equipment, but the other three passengers can be adolescents who can work hard and shoot straight. The trucks will run in convoys, so they can protect and watch out for each other. That will leave two people not assigned who can fill in where needed."

  Ed nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds like a plan. We'll start with that and modify it later if need
be. Another reason to move now is the decimation of the wild game in this area. We don't see zombies often when we travel, but in this area the buggers have killed just about everything that's edible, and some I don't even want to think about eating."

  Morgan piped up, "Hell, I haven't even seen a skunk or an opossum in months. They must eat those nasty things, too." Smiles and chuckles followed.

  Ed continued as we listened, "We've been able to kill several of the fast runner zombies most of the times they've attack the compound or the livestock. They're almost all naked now; it's rare to see one clothed, and then the intact clothing indicates they were turned recently. That's further evidence the older, original ones we saw in tattered rags are dying off. In contrast, game is plentiful at the new site to the south. That indicates to me that the zombie population must be smaller or non-existent there."

  The meeting drifted into side conversations among the members until John said, "I've been sitting here thinking about moving. Most of our furniture is at least five years old and much of it has been used for ten years. Instead of hauling used furniture several hundred miles, let's check out stores closer to the new site and see what we can gather locally."

  No one objected, so I agreed to the sensible suggestion and ended the meeting.

  Another meeting was held early the following morning to announce the new moving plan to all of our survivors. Some accepted the change readily. Others had to be convinced the change was the best course going forward. Some people's personality traits simply didn't allow them to accept sudden changes imposed without warning. In the end, after much discussion, the naysayers came around and agreed to support the changed schedule.