Haven From Hell: Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse

by Won, Mark

  I picked Louis up and carried him. Without my bike the journey was going to take awhile. I figured I’d be lucky to make it home by dinner time. For you city folks and foreigners that’s noon. I thought about going back for the bike, but I wasn’t sure how much good it would be off road. I figured I’d sneak over the back fields and copses of the neighbors. Make my way home that way.

  After about a quarter mile my cut leg gave out. I was in the middle of a fresh plowed field (Mr. McKennon was always optimistic in his plowing time. He’d wrecked the coulters on a plow once already by not waiting for the weather to warm up). There we lay. I thought Louis had died for one bad instant, but I checked his breathing. He was just dead tired. Remember that bump on my head? Well, as soon as I got my wind back I promptly fell asleep. I’m blaming a concussion, anyway.

  When I woke it was still light out. I was still soaked and frozen to the bone. I figured I’d only been asleep for a minute or two but something seemed off.

  I looked about and there was Mr. McKennon stumbling up to us. Except he had half his neck bitten off with a raggedy big hole in it. That’s when I figured the thing that happened at the school must be catchy. I also figured I’d better move if I wasn’t tired of breathing. The trouble with that idea was that my leg had gone stiff. I remembered how strong those things were and a fair fight didn’t seem like it would be none too fair. I needed a weapon of some kind, even if it was just a rock. The trouble with a well plowed field is that you can never find a really good rock when you need one. I picked up Louis by his legs, tossed him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and ran.

  I exaggerate. I wasn’t running anywhere with a bum leg and a little kid over the shoulder. If anyone had been watching they would have thought one zombie was following another.

  I’d cleared about ten feet when I realized Louis was awake. He wanted me to put him down, so I did. Let me tell you, there was nothing wrong with that kid’s legs. He took off running like a champ. He made it to the tiny woods I was heading for well before me. I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Mrs. McKennon shambling along about fifty yards behind her husband. She didn’t seem torn up any but I didn’t look too close. A little behind her were a couple more. One was her adult son and the other her daughter. I was starting to get tired, again. They weren’t.

  When I looked back to the direction my feet were taking me I just about jumped out of my skin again. There was Louis holding a middling sized piece of dead fall from the wood up ahead. I shifted it in my hands trying to get a good grip but had no luck. The shape of the wood was all wrong. I kept limping along until I finally got into the trees. I took out my pocket knife and hid with Louis behind a couple of trees in a thicket. I whittled that branch like a hobo trying to make a toothpick. By the time Mr. McKennon got into the woods I was just about ready for him. I’d stripped off a couple branches and narrowed one end a bit. Then I swung for the fences. The thing that used to be Mr. McKennon fell down flat and didn’t get up.

  Running still didn’t seem like much of an option for me. So I lay in wait instead. When the next zombie stuck its head into the thicket I smashed it in too. Things seemed to be going great. The final two bumbled into my little woods. I whistled them over and stepped out from behind the tree with a real nice roundhouse swing going. The daughter (name of Caroline) stepped right into it. The blow smacked right into her temple. The good news was that she dropped stone dead. The bad news was that the branch broke.

  That’s the trouble with dead fall branches. More than half the time their rotted through and aren’t good for much besides kindling.

  Just as you’d expect, what was left of Tom, with its face half eaten and nose bit off, started trying to grab me. With all the extra motivation my leg was feeling much better right about then, so I changed my mind and decided that it was time to try running some more. I turned to fly like the wind.

  Right into a low tree branch. Not some half rotten branch that’s been lying around since the fall of Isengard, either. That must have been some serious hardwood. It felt like my concussion just got a goose egg. I fell and zombie Tom moved in to grapple. If the darn thing had half a brain cell that would have been the end of me. As it was, it kind of half fell as it reached out for me. One look at that horrible ruin of a head and I rolled out of the way as fast as I could. I found I still had the remnants of the branch in my hands so I started using it. It was only about a foot long. The best I could do was slam the stick at it’s belly, then scuttle away and get up.

  My hit managed to shove it around a bit but didn’t slow it down much. Fortunately, the stupid thing was slow to start with. Zombie Tom was so clumsy it was having trouble getting to it’s feet. I tried jumping on its back. That knocked it flat and I was feeling pretty good about my chances for about two seconds. Then it did a push up with me standing on its back. I stumbled and almost fell again. Again, I turned to run, and guess what? There was Louis. This time with a rock so big he could hardly lift it. I took that Ebeneezer and brought it right down on the zombie’s back. I heard the crack of its spine breaking, and saw the bones peeking out. That didn’t stop it, though. I’m no doctor, but I could tell that was just not right. Backbones got lots of important stuff in them. You know, nerves and things. All I’d done was knock it flat again. It should’ve been paralyzed, at the very least. Instead, it started to get up again.

  I turned to Louis and said as calmly as I could, “Got any more rocks?” He ran off and I grabbed up the stone again, narrowly avoiding getting grabbed. Zombie Tom had managed to roll itself over and was trying to reach out to me. I really didn’t want to get that close so I heaved the stone at it’s head, catching it squarely in the chest. More bones breaking. Then zombie Tom was on his feet.

  I backed away, looking around desperately, and there was Louis again with a much smaller rock (about ten pounds). I snatched it up and threw it over hand with both arms. It smacked zombie Tom right in the brow, put a nice dent in its forehead. I thought it would drop instantly. I’d kinda been counting on that result. You might even say I’d been betting my life on it. Zombie Tom managed to stumble foreword a step, though, before collapsing. It’d looked like it had to give it some thought.

  That was when I finally figured out that head shots were the only way to go. These things could walk on broken legs or with a broken back. Even if those kinds of wounds would get the job done eventually, I couldn’t see the value of relying on them. For me, when it came to killing zombies, it was head shots only from then on.

  Louis had gotten me another rock. That kid was like the Energizer Bunny of rock gathering. I thanked him, picked up my pocket knife, and started to cut off a decent sized branch. I needed something with a little better reach than a rock. Carving that branch must have taken the better part of an hour. I narrowed the handle a bit and called it a job well done. Then we were on the move again.

  I set a straight course for home from there. At my instigation we started shambling and stumbling on our way. I was hoping we could just blend in and remain unnoticed. The Dawson family was out and about. Well, what was left of them.

  The zombie Dawsons made for us, so I told Louis to wait while I went on ahead. Six zombies total, none showing any damage. I knew that the Dawsons had company over from down south. Danish county, I think. I did a quick count and wondered where the rest of them were. I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out the hard way. They obviously weren’t buying my shambling ruse, so I picked up the pace and came at the first of them head on. I smashed it a good one, and the rest started to move in. I kind of found a rhythm with my swings. Take a swing, step back. Take a swing, step back. Rinse and repeat. Not every hit was a kill but I was able to keep my distance well enough. By the time the last had fallen I was just about back to Louis.

  “Let’s go,” I told him, “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

  All he said was, “I wish I still had my bat.”

  Finally, I saw home in the distance. We moved along the front path. It wa
s past chilly and getting dangerously cold outside. We were still wet from the river, too. The exertion was all that was keeping us warm. I moved up the front porch steps, leaning heavily on the railing, with Louis coming along behind me. I pulled open the outer door and heard movement inside. The low squeak of the door must have alerted someone. I prayed God everyone was okay.

  I motioned Louis back down the steps, just in case, and pushed open the inner door. “It’s just me, I’m h-” and there was Erik. Well, zombie Eric anyway, covered in blood and viscera. I charged. In retrospect, not a wise move. In spite of my earlier commitment to head shots I rammed zombie Eric in the breadbasket, using my club as a battering ram. Down went the zombie and I just started swinging at its head. That filthy, blood covered horror reached out and grabbed my calf before I smashed it’s skull in. I collapsed on top of it. It felt like the muscle in my leg was bruised to the bone, but I managed to get back on my feet (foot, actually). My new bruise was on the same leg as my cut. I could see that the zombie was clearly stopped; my final blow had left its brains on the floor.

  I called Louis in and closed the doors. The poor kid’s teeth were chattering and his cold had developed into a nasty cough. I found the remains of Mom and Dad and the dogs in the family room. At least they hadn’t changed. It’s a good thing they didn’t change later because at the time I didn’t even consider that as an option.

  What a horrific surprise that would have been.

  As far as I could tell, Erik must have become one of those things, and then it murdered my parents. The dogs must have tried to stop it. I couldn’t bring myself to blame Erik. Once Erik had turned into a monster it wasn’t Eric anymore. I don’t care what anybody says. Erik didn’t kill them. I knew that. It was whatever his body had been turned into that bore all the blame.

  The whole situation seemed way bigger than me, totally out of my control. It still does. But if I ever get a shot at revenge at whatever made this happen I’m going to shove a maul so far up that devil’s ass it’ll be walking funny come judgment day.

  Louis needed some help so I got him some fresh clothes from the back closet where Mom kept every hand-me-down (‘waste not want not’). I got into some warmer clothes for myself, too. Then I put some leftover meatloaf in the microwave and called Anna just like I said I would. She picked up on the first ring (she was luckier than me, her parents had given her a cell phone).

  After a quick hello, “How is Eva?”

  “She’s totally fine. It was horrible!”

  I wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  She continued, “They were dead! The kids were dead. Almost the whole class! Miss Perkins said-”

  “Wait! Miss Perkins is still alive?” Stupidest question I’ve ever asked. And a rude interruption, to boot. That concussion was really messing with me.

  “We have her in the mini van with Ava, me, and Jenny Henna.”

  Deercrossing being a small town, I knew of Jenny of course. Her parents were farmers. I think her mom worked in a factory sometime.

  “Where are you going?” I heard the distinct sounds of meaty impacts and Mr. Herst cursing in the background.

  A pause, “I don’t think Dad knows. Those things are all over the street. We keep hitting them, and we could see from the street that our big front window was smashed in. I think they’re in my house.”

  Well, that just wasn’t good enough. “I need you to tell your Dad to go to Upstream Canoes. Does he know where it is?”

  Of course he did. Anna and I have gone canoeing there last summer. I told her about the bridge being out, “So get the canoes and come downstream until you get closer. Then cross over with the boats and meet me here. I think the coast is clear on this side. At least as far as my house. One more thing. Tell your dad he has to shoot them in the head. Body shots won’t work.”

  She wanted to keep talking so I put it on speaker and let her talk. While I listened I loaded every gun in Dad’s gun case, and she told me all about her trip to the Elementary school. How they found the doors wide open. How, inside, they found some of the kids dead with no obvious cause. How they found Mr. Anders trying to pound his way through a metal door with such ferocity that he’d smashed his own hands to bloody ruin. How her dad had shot Mr. Anders when he attacked, and how it took four shots (the last one in the face) before he stopped moving.

  “Then we found Miss Perkins hiding in the closet with Eva and Jenny. Miss Perkins said some of the kids just dropped down dead while Mr. Anders changed, like everybody at our school. Mrs. Perkins said the kids just ran screaming. Miss Perkins said some little kid named Ronny got killed by Mr. Anders! Miss Perkins said it was horrible! Miss Perkins said she doesn’t know what to do! What are we gonna do, John? What are we gonna do?!”

  How should I know? I was just some high school student with a concussion causing him to ask stupid questions.

  “I already told you what to do. Quit messing around and do it. I expect all of you here in three hours, tops.” Not my finest moment. Can I blame the concussion again?

  I apologized and hung up. I started calling relatives. I managed to get hold of Grandpa Vincent and Grandma Constance. They had moved way down south to Illinois a long time ago and started a new farm. They were fine for now, holed up with some neighbors. I also got Grandpa and Grandma Tower. They were okay too, barricaded on the second floor of their home, which was a bit east of Eau Claire but still in the country. I got hold of aunt Lucy, May, Harriet, Lindsy, and Ann. Also, uncle Josey, Robert, Bill, Peter and Skeeter (not his real name but that’s what Erik and I had always called him). One way or another they and their spouses were all okay. Mostly just trying to ride it out by hiding in attics or cellars.

  I wasn’t able to reach anyone else, though. I guessed what happened here probably happened all around. I had the feeling time was getting away from me so I quit calling family and started in on the neighbors. Mr. Franklin was the only one who picked up. He had no clue, no idea what had happened. Turns out neither he nor his wife were big fans of daytime television. Neither of them had any special reason to be out that morning, either. So I told him there was a major emergency and asked him to turn on the news.

  It seemed all that was left on the tube at that point was automated repeated messages. Generic stuff about mobs, about staying indoors, ‘we don’t know if the president is still alive’, etc. It was good enough to get Mr. Franklin’s attention, though. Good enough to get him to load his shotguns and keep a lookout. I tried to tell him about needing to shoot them in the head but I don’t think he believed me. He’d learn.

  I cleaned and bandaged my leg and got new jeans on. Then I used the new wheelbarrow to move my family (including the dogs) out to the second shed. I had to move the barrels full of tools out in order to make room for all the bodies. I wrapped them all in bed sheets and said the 23rd psalm. Under the circumstances I followed with the 22nd.

  I spent the next hour and a half hunting former neighbors. My plan was to drive to their houses, ring the doorbell, and when a zombie showed up I blew its head off with a 12 gauge. A plan elegant in it’s simplicity. I was even careful to bring enough extra shells. Don’t worry though. That concussion wasn’t through with me yet.

  Chapter 3: Church Social, A Little Old Lady Crosses the Street, and a Second Story Man

  By the time I was done shooting the new neighbors everyone had gathered in the house. We had quite a crowd. Mr. Herst had joined up with Jenny Henna’s entire family. Hector had seen the convoy and hitched a ride along with his brothers, sisters and parents (the Buenos’ car was in the shop). Then there was Mrs. Clampton, the grocery store lady and her family. Also, Roger (another friend of mine, from Algebra) and his parents, older sister, baby brother and kid brother (who had managed to run home from Elementary school).

  I was real surprised Roger had made it out of school alive. I’d just assumed every one else was dead or worse. He told me how he’d run into the restroom with a few o
thers, climbed onto a toilet and wormed his way into the hung ceiling space. From there they’d made their way over to the exit. I remembered Anna’s face when I’d chucked her out that window and wished I’d thought of Roger’s escape plan. That Roger was way better than me at Algebra.

  Everyone was all talking at once, nobody listening. I’m sure you’ve seen that kind of thing before. I took the opportunity to check in on Louis. He seemed better. I got him some orange juice and soup. Then I got my coat and packed my backpack with some essentials. I placed that and a bunch of tire boards in the pickup truck along with some rope. I kept my dad’s shotgun with me constantly. By that time everyone had quieted down some and I finally got my chance to say something.

  “You’re all welcome to stay here as long as we can. I don’t see much use in moving anywhere right now. If we believe the TV, there’s really nowhere to go. Eat some food. Get some rest. I’m going back into town to see who else needs help. Mr. Herst, may I borrow your minivan?” I took his keys from the table.

  They all looked at me like I was nuts. Anna said, “But you can’t go. Your leg’s all cut up.”

  “That’s one reason I want the mini van. It’ll save on walking. And no, none of you can come with me. Everyone I take with me is one fewer I can bring back.”

  Roger said,“We could take all the cars. That way we would be able to bring even more back.”

  “God bless you for saying it, Roger, but that’s not the point. I’m sure there are plenty of cars out there and plenty of people who know how to drive them. We just need someone to go out and let them know this is a safer place, and how to get here.”