by Barry Slater
“My God,” Captain Jack said in disbelief. “Are we the only ones alive?”
“Let's make sure we didn't pick up any hitch-hikers,” Dwayne said.
Captain Jack stopped along a clear stretch of Highway 50 then stepped away from the truck with the flashlight and his 9mm at ready.
“Damn it!”
“What?”
“One of those bastards is wrapped around the rear axle. Its shirt is tangled around the pinion seal.”
“Is it dead?”
“Looks that way,” Captain Jack said. “It’s not moving. Its head is busted and there's brains all underneath the truck.”
“What do we need to do?”
“We can't dig the bastard out,” Captain Jack said. “That infected shit would get all over us. The problem is his shirt; it could ruin the pinion seal. That happened once when I was driving through a hay field. The stalks of grass wrapped around the pinion and fouled the seal. All the gear oil leaked out and after a couple miles of driving the rear axle seized.”
“So what do we do?” Dwayne asked.
“How much further is it to your house?”
“A couple more miles,” Dwayne answered. Captain Jack sat still in silent thought. “It's your call, Jack.”
“We have no choice,” Captain Jack finally said. “We'll just have to risk it.”
Three hundred and fifty-five feet from and within sight of Dwayne's house, the rear axle seized.
“Shit!”
“We can bring my truck down and load everything on it,” Dwayne said.
“OK,” Captain Jack said. “Let me get the flashlight then we'll roll. You got your weapon?”
“My what?” Dwayne asked puzzled. “What weapon, the .45?”
“No. Your violin,” Captain Jack said nodding his head toward Dwayne's violin case. “If you're not going to carry a weapon then just consider that a weapon, like a 9mm violin or a .45 caliber Stradivarius.”
Dwayne watched as Captain Jack took a roll of duct tape from his tool box and tapped the flashlight to the muzzle of his 9mm then looked at Dwayne.
“I'm not missing anymore head shots,” Captain Jack said with raised eyebrows.
“I never thought a violin could be used as a weapon,” Dwayne said as he got his violin out of Captain Jack's truck.
“A wrestler could use it as one,” Captain Jack said. “He could smash it on someone's head, but that's about all he could do with it.”
Dwayne laughed as he and Captain Jack headed toward the house.
Captain Jack stopped then beamed the flashlight in front of them.
“Shit,” Captain Jack said. “Who is that?”
“It's Bob McKenzie,” Dwayne said. “He's one of my neighbors. He owns the hardware store.”
“Does he have the virus?”
“Yeah,” Dwayne said looking into Mr. McKenzie's darkened, discolored eyes. “It must have got him after he left work. That's probably why the doors were locked at the store.”
With a staggering gait, Mr. McKenzie came closer to Dwayne and Captain Jack.
“Mr. McKenzie?” Captain Jack said.
“Bob?” Dwayne said.
Mr. McKenzie answered with a high-pitched shrill. Captain Jack aimed the 9mm between Mr. McKenzie's eyes.
“Jack,” Dwayne said holding his hand out. “Wait. Let's try this.”
Dwayne opened the case then pulled the bow across the violin's strings.
The music softened Mr. McKenzie's face. His eyes appeared dreamy as he walked more natural-like toward Dwayne. The music activated his thoughts. In his mind he could see the images of the past Labor Day weekend, the last time his family was together. His son had come home from the Navy, his daughter from college at Arizona State, and his parents from their retirement home in Montana.
“Jack,” Dwayne said. “Go get my truck.”
Mr. McKenzie was distracted slightly by Dwayne's voice.
“The keys are in the visor,” Dwayne said. “The gate code is nine two five three.”
Amazed by the effect of Dwayne's music on the zombies, Captain Jack ran to the house then drove the truck out and parked beside Dwayne.
“OK Jack,” Dwayne said. “It's time.”
Dwayne stopped the music. Mr. McKenzie's face tightened. His gait stiffened then he lunged forward. Captain Jack brought the 9mm up and aimed, then quickly put a round between Mr. McKenzie's eyes. Skull fragments and rotten, infected brain tissue sprayed out of the back of his head.
Mr. McKenzie took several more steps then fell back into the middle of the road.
“Goodbye Bob.” Dwayne lowered the Stradivarius.
“Rest in peace,” Captain Jack said looking down at the body. “Poor bastard.”
Dwayne drove down to Captain Jack's truck. In grieving silence the two transferred the materials to Dwayne's truck then pulled in past the gate.
It was four o'clock in the morning before they laid down and slept restlessly.
#
Waking up sore, Dwayne combed his hair and slowly dressed. Captain Jack was already outside.
“Good morning Jack.” Dwayne could see his breath in the chilled air.
“Morning,” Captain Jack responded. “Cold out.”
Dwayne nodded. “What are you up to?”
Captain Jack was filling the trash bags with gasoline and then putting in Styrofoam cups with steel wool pads and plastic spoons and forks stuffed inside them.
“I'm making a crude form of napalm. The gasoline will melt the Styrofoam cups and turn them into glue. The steel wool is very flammable. When the napalm goes off, the pads will stick to the zombies like flaming spit wads. We'll set the bags along the fence line and connect them with det cord.” Captain Jack swept his eyes along the wrought iron fence connected to the front gate. “They'll gather there. We'll set the bags along there at ten foot intervals. They will turn that whole area into a flaming hell.”
Dwayne and Captain Jack carried two bags in each hand down from the storage shed then placed them ten feet apart along the outside of the fence.
“Make sure there's nothing on the ground that will puncture the bags,” Captain Jack said as he gingerly laid the bags down. “It's funny how gasoline will melt Styrofoam but not a plastic bag. We could have used milk jugs but the plastic is too thick. The bags melt away quicker in the explosion allowing the flame to spread further out. Plus the white trash bags will look like patches of snow. Placing sticks and leaves on top of them will add to the camouflage. A little powdering from Mother Nature wouldn't hurt either.”
Captain Jack connected the bags with detonation cord.
“Where's the press going to be?” Dwayne asked.
“Outside the gate,” Captain Jack said. “I figure you can lure them to the front gate with the music and then close it. That will bottle the zombeenies up there then we can lower the metal plate on top of them. Do you have a hole digger?”
“There’s one in the shed.”
Captain Jack dug two holes for each leg of the hydraulic lift then anchored the legs to the ground with the threaded rod and cement.
The two laid one of the metal plates on top of the lift arms and welded them together with the welder and the spare generator. Captain Jack assembled the pump and motor then ran the power cable to the generator.
Starting the generator, Captain Jack nodded toward the press. “Give it a shot.”
Dwayne pressed the “UP” button and the hydraulic cylinders raised the metal plate. He pressed the “DOWN” button and the plate slowly lowered onto the cement driveway pad.
“Very good.” Captain Jack said. “The edge of the plate comes down right beside the gate. That leaves no room for stragglers. You lure them to the gate giving the zombeenies time to gather then close the gate and lower the press.
“I'll be on the roof with the sniper rifle and triggers. The second metal sheet we'll use to make a lean-to bunker for you. When you hear me say 'fire in the hole,' make sure you are in your bunker.”
<
br /> “When do you want to do it?” Dwayne asked.
“I say we finish up here for the day. We get some rest then tomorrow we go for it.”
#
Before sunrise the next morning Captain Jack set the claymore mines head high in the trees along the fence line. In the open area near the driveway he set one of the leftover wrought iron fence poles into the ground. On the pole he attached claymore mines head high in all four directions.
“I've got a question for you,” Captain Jack said. “Which direction are you going to bring them in?”
“The trail,” Dwayne answered. “I think we need to keep the road as clear as we can. It'll make it easier when we need to drive to town.”
“That's kinda what I was thinking,” Captain Jack said. “I'll drive you down, we get as many supplies as we can and then we'll meet back here.”
“OK.”
“We've got to get as many of them as we can,” Captain Jack said. “We need to kill as many as possible at one time.”
Dwayne nodded then looked down. He picked a ball of lint off his tuxedo then watched it float away in the early morning breeze.
“By the way,” Captain Jack said. “You look sharp.”
“Thanks,” Dwayne said. “You know the old saying.”
“What old saying?”
“You don't have to feel good. You just have to look good.”
“I'm sure those poor bastards will appreciate that,” Captain Jack said with a smile. “Remember, women go crazy about a sharp dressed man. So, try to get us a couple hot zombie girls would ya?”
Dwayne smiled at Captain Jack and nodded.
#
There were several zombies at the gas station.
“This sounds strange to say,” Captain Jack said. “But we need more of them than that. We're going to be using firepower we may not be able to replace. We need to get them all if we can.”
“Let's go to the pharmacy,” Dwayne said nodding his head down the road.
“I'll come back here,” Captain Jack said.
There was a large crowd at the pharmacy. Captain Jack let Dwayne out in the parking lot to draw the zombies away from the door.
“Good luck,” Captain Jack said.
“Thanks,” Dwayne said. “You too.”
After loading the truck with more trash bags, Styrofoam cups and dry food, Captain Jack waved at Dwayne then drove back to the gas station.
Dwayne played Jean's song. Leading the crowd of zombies to the trail, he heard shots ring out from the station as Captain Jack took out the zombies there.
The sky was still dim. The moon beamed through the leafless trees as it began to give the night up to the sun. Dwayne could see his breath in the crisp dawn air. Except for the music and the shuffling of feet, the trail was silent and still.
The sun peeked over the horizon just as Dwayne reached the driveway. He ran ahead of the crowd and opened the front gate then quickly closed it behind him.
Dwayne resumed playing for a moment then stopped. The zombies gathered at the gate and filled the press then began overflowing down the fence line.
No longer entranced by the music, the zombies began shrieking and reaching through the gate trying desperately to pull Dwayne to them.
The press was full of zombies with more of the dead flowing in and trying to pull themselves over the gate. Captain Jack began shooting the ones that had managed to pull themselves to the top of the fence.
“Now Dwayne,” Captain Jack shouted. “Now!”
Overwhelmed by the scene, Dwayne gazed at the humanity, the inhumanity, that was the poster child of pity; the epitome of pitiful.
“Dwayne!” Captain Jack shouted from the rooftop balcony. “DO IT!”
Dwayne pressed the down button. The metal plate lowered methodically onto the crowd and pressed them against the cement driveway breaking bones and crushing skulls with a continuous crunch.
Captain Jack sniped the crowd flowing down the fence line.
Dwayne pressed the up button. The plate lifted off the mass of broken bone and flesh and a fresh wave of zombies quickly filled the press almost breaching the eight-foot gate. The overflow followed the first of the dead down the fence line.
With the plate coming back down, the crowd was pressed down onto the previous group. Skulls popped open like grapes, spraying brain tissue from the sides of the stack of bodies. Body fluids squirted out and ran across the cement and onto the cold, hard ground.
The last of the amassed group of zombies staggered into the open area between the driveway and the trail. Except for the handicapped stragglers, Captain Jack estimated several hundred in all. `
Flowing around the press, the zombies began reaching for the top of the six-foot wrought iron fence, climbing over each other trying to get to Dwayne.
“Fire in the hole,” Captain Jack shouted from the rooftop balcony.
Dwayne pressed a third layer of corpses and was mesmerized by the pile of exploding bodies beneath the steel plate.
“Dwayne! Fire in the hole!”
Dwayne ran the several feet to the bunker and dived behind the metal lean-to.
Captain Jack banged the trigger setting off the claymore mines in the tree line beside the trail. The blast cut into the rear of the crowd and pushed them forward as they moved toward the gate.
Banging the second trigger, Captain Jack set off the claymores attached to the wrought iron pole in the center of the open area. The explosion laid the crowd out like felled trees in every direction. Decapitated heads and twisted torsos lay in piles.
Captain Jack banged the third trigger. The eight bags of gasoline and Styrofoam mixture along the fence line simultaneously ignited adding an orange glow to the rising sun and illuminating the morning shadows as the huge fireballs rolled upwards into the dark blue sky.
The zombies burned along the fence line. The steel wool pads simmered like hot coals inside the Styrofoam cups. The cups stuck to the zombies as the melting plastic forks inside the cups burned holes through their bodies.
Captain Jack sniped the stragglers then came down from the rooftop balcony and finished several more at the fence with his 9mm.
Nauseated, Dwayne pressed the last group then stepped back.
“My God,” Dwayne said as he looked around. The grotesque stench of burning flesh filled the air.
“If there is a God,” Captain Jack said.
#
After a day of rest, Dwayne mounted the scrape blade to his tractor and turned the blade backward. He pushed the zombies out of the press and into a pile beside the driveway.
Some were still moving. Their arms reached out of the mangled heap of flesh. There were too many of them to bury, and there wasn't enough fuel to burn them all. Dwayne covered them as best he could with the scrape blade hoping the dirt and the dry, cold air would soak up the body fluids.
Captain Jack placed fresh bags of gasoline and detonation cord, carefully lying sticks and leaves on top of the bags, along the fence. He replaced the claymores in the tree line and on the pole in front of the gate.
“Hop on,” Dwayne said. He drove over and picked Captain Jack up. “Let's check the fence.”
Captain Jack stood on the step plate as Dwayne opened the gate to the animal paddocks.
“What are we checking the fence for?” Captain Jack asked.
“Any kind of damage,” Dwayne explained. “Fallen trees or limbs, anything like that. When we built it, we left enough room between the paddock fence and the outer fence to bush hog in the summer and to create a buffer zone in case any of the animals get loose.”
“What's that?” Captain Jack asked.
“Where?”
“Up there.” Captain Jack pointed ahead to a shadow in the dry, matted brown grass.
Dwayne drove to the spot and stopped.
“Jesus,” Captain Jack said. “It's one of them.”
The body of a half-eaten zombie lay just outside the fence. Its skull was smashed and its brain was smeared i
n the grass.
“There's a hole in the fence up ahead,” Dwayne said. “Hang on.”
“There's another zombeenie,” Captain Jack nodded to a body inside the fence.
“No it's not one of them,” Dwayne said. “This one's different.”
Dwayne stopped at the hole in the fence. He and Captain Jack squeezed past the tractor's front wheel for a closer look.
“It's been cut.” Captain Jack felt the vertical wrought iron bars that had been cut at the bottom and bent to the side.
Another hole had been cut straight across from it in the inner fence.
“Why do you think they would have done this?” Captain Jack asked.
“I don't know,” Dwayne responded. “They got the inner and outer fence.”
“Whose paddock is this?” Captain Jack asked.
“It's B.J.'s,” Dwayne said with discernment. “I don't see him anywhere.”
Captain Jack pulled his 9mm. “Let's see who that is.”
The hole was large enough for Dwayne and Captain Jack to easily pass through. Seeing that the body was subdued by rigor mortis, Captain Jack holstered the 9mm and knelt beside it.
It was a man in camouflage clothing with a miniature hacksaw on a string around his neck.
“This is what he used to cut through the fence,” Captain Jack said holding up the hacksaw.
Captain Jack rolled the body over revealing a M4 assault rifle.
“Well we've got another weapon and more ammo,” Captain Jack said. He looked over the man's wounds. There were large bite marks across his right shoulder and his neck appeared to be broken.
“Could B.J. have done this?” Captain Jack asked.
“It's possible,” Dwayne responded. “If he felt threatened.”
“Hey,” Captain Jack said. “Look at this!”
Captain Jack picked up what looked to be a pair of small binoculars lying several feet from the body.
“It's a set of thermal imaging goggles!” Captain Jack exclaimed. “We can definitely use a pair of these.”
Captain Jack's slight smile quickly faded from his face. He looked out into the woods past the gate.
“Dwayne,” Captain Jack slowly said. “We'd sure make a fine target out here like this.”
Dwayne looked around. “Yeah,” he said. “Someone could pick us off right now if they wanted to. Why don't they, unless he was alone.”