by Won, Mark
Those four men had decided to take a break from the rummaging and total up the haul so far, that’s when the ghoul had attacked. Obviously, all that shooting I’d heard had missed the mark. The men said that it had leaped from one of them to another, biting, scratching, then jumping to the next. Previously, I’d tried telling everyone about how fast the ghoul I’d fought earlier was, but no one really understood. It was the kind of thing you really had to see to comprehend.
I was the least damaged of us, with only a few scratches, a bite on one hand and a shotgun pellet in the other. So I went out and got all the stuff we’d left behind. By then I was ready to take the rest of the day off.
-
That night I heard someone walking around upstairs. It woke me up, but I didn’t think much of it. It seemed like a bunch of stumbling around in the dark. I thought, “Just find the bathroom, already. It’s not like it’s hidden.” After a while it got kind of funny. I imagined Mr. Stein or Mr. Ottenbocker stumbling around. Then I thought of Mr. Bueno or the other injured having problems, so I got up to help.
I opened my bedroom door and looked down the hall. “Mr. Willcox?”
Before me stood Mr. Willcox’s zombified remains. Up came his arms, shut went my door. I hustled back, grabbed up my gun just as it started pounding on the door. I took my best guess based on its height and cut loose with the 12 gauge. I quickly switched over to the rifle barrel and moved foreword to peek through the new fist sized peep hole in my door. There lay zombie Mr. Willcox with half its head all over the upstairs hallway. My first thought was how mad Mom was going to be.
My next thought was to wonder if anyone else had been changed. I grabbed a handful of shells and went down the corridor, looking in the rooms as I went. Not very polite, I know, but I was feeling rushed. Everybody was up anyway, asking questions and moving around. I shouted, “Everyone back to your rooms. Shut your doors and wait for the doctor and I. Doctor Adams, please come here.”
He showed up right quick with my dad’s hunting rifle in hand. I said, “Please come with me” and began going to each of the wounded men’s rooms. We went to the master bedroom first (we had decided to use it as our infirmary). We found Mr. Miller and Mr. Bueno both unchanged. I told the Doctor to watch over them in case they did change, then I went to the spare room we’d set up for Mr. Oliver. He was wide awake and well. Not well, I guess, because of the missing fingers, but not a zombie either.
I called out that all was safe. Then I split up Mr. Miller and Mr. Bueno into separate rooms. Even though it was late, I got some spare padlock hasps and latches from the basement workbench and locked all us hurt people in. It was morning by the time I got back to sleep.
I was eventually awakened by Reverend Ert leading everyone in prayer. Sunday morning already?
How time flies when you’re getting gnawed on by zombies and ghouls. Someone had dug up all our old hymnals and everybody was singing a cappella. I love our church, I really do, but our congregation sounds like a bag full of cats. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I sang along when I could. After the service I got up.
Downstairs, I greeted everybody and asked after Mr. Bueno and the rest. They were still fine. I got together the rest of the men and got us organized properly. Then we headed out as a group. No more messing around. We hit the town like some kind of invading army. There were ten of us and we did not split up. I only left Doctor Adams to look after the injured (and kill them if they changed) and Mr. Stein and Mr. Fisher to hold down the fort.
We cleared the whole town in two days. There were six zombies left, no ghouls. In their slowness and stupidity they posed no threat. Reverend Ert killed three in a row.
After that it was time to go after medicine and propane. We had so many wounded I was starting to get worried about medical supplies. Doctor Adams reassured me he had enough for his current patients.
The way things were going that wasn’t good enough. In town we’d found some medicine but not much. About a month’s worth of antibiotics and some insulin (which, fortunately, nobody needed) to go along with plenty of over the counter pain killers.
Also, we’d managed to scrounge up a couple of propane tanks at the gas station and half a dozen more around town. Enough for now but hardly a comfortable surplus. It was time for a road trip.
Chapter 5: New Kind, The Warrior Named Tina, and Another Surprise
“I want to come along. I worked at the propane center last summer and know the place real well. I watched how everything was done, so I know how to hook everything up.” Anna seemed determined.
At first I was too stunned to speak. There was no way on God’s green earth she was going with us. Still, just before I said something true, I came to my senses, “I don’t like the idea much, but you make a good point. Ask your dad and see if he’ll let you.” Pretty clever, huh?
She gave me that prim look of disapproval she had and I knew I had her out argued. Mr. Herst would sooner lock Anna up and stand guard, then let he go off on some dangerous supply run. She knew it too.
I tried to make it up to her by getting all the information about the propane center that I could from her. I made her write down instructions about how all the trailer hook ups worked, where the keys were kept, how to read the log books. I even made her draw a few maps for me. One to get there, another of the grounds and even one of the inside of the building she’d worked in.
Of course, I knew most of this already. I’d been going there with my dad for years.
For that outing, I decided to take Mr. Ottenbocker, Mr. Weber and Mr. Stein. Roger insisted on coming along with his dad and I couldn’t say no to that. Mrs. Stein wasn’t too happy about it though.
Mr. Ottenbocker was the best with rifle or shotgun in that part of the world. He’d even won a competition. Mr. Weber was a big man who had done some boxing back in the day. Mr. Stein was there to figure out anything that we needed figured out. He had been a teacher in a university until they kicked him out for not believing in evolution. Now, he taught Sunday school for the church.
We had quite a few vehicles to choose from after we’d looted the town. We picked out two pickup trucks and a minivan; each with a trailer hitch. It seemed a bit optimistic to think that we’d use all three, but I rather have them and not need them, than need them and not have them.
Once on the road I made a point of taking the route that Anna had chosen for us. Every now and again we’d spot a zombie shambling along the road. Mr. Ottenbocker would take a little target practice and we’d be on our way. We made good time to the propane distribution center, and I pulled into the parking lot.
There was a tall chain link fence all the way around with the gates wide open for business. Only four other cars were there, and they were parked far from the main building. Anna had said there would have been four people working there back when the disaster happened. That meant four zombies. Hopefully no ghouls. I’d take ten times as many slow and strong over fast and bitey any day.
The others parked behind me. We went around to the side of the main building as a group, all shotguns at the shoulder. One zombie came at us. I wondered if it’d heard us up drive up. Mr. Ottenbocker and Mr. Weber both opened fire at the same time. Down went the zombie. Mr. Stein kept looking all around, keeping an eye out for anything trying to sneak up behind us.
He shouted, “There!” as another one walked around the corner of a side building and came into view. Mr. Stein was still aiming when Mr. Ottenbocker shot it down. I called out, “Reload.”
Over at the side building I climbed some cement steps at the loading dock and shouldered open the big metal door. Inside it was dark as a politician’s heart, with no windows. I held the door open with my foot and whistled for the enemy to show itself. After about two minutes of waiting Roger and I went in and opened both loading doors. Then we went back, drove the vehicles up, and started to load the tanks. We filled up both trucks and the minivan in about an hour, while Mr. Ottenbocker and Mr. Stein kept watch. Moving all those propane t
anks brought back fond memories of time spent with Dad.
Then came the tricky part. I wanted to take the real big tanks already on trailers. There were four set to go but each was padlocked up pretty tight. Even though Anna had told me where the keys were, I did not want to take any chances by going inside to get them. I tried the bolt cutters, but I wasn’t dealing with an ordinary chain. It was some kind of bar system too wide for the cutters and with the lock recessed. I tried the saw but I didn’t have enough space to work with. It would take all day.
We decided to go inside, after all. I took lead and we approached the front doors. They were of a simple metal arrangement with no windows. I called out to anything inside and then started knocking on the door. My thinking was that if a zombie heard me it would start pounding on that door, then I’d open it, being careful to stand well to the side. The clumsy thing would stumble out and catch a face full of lead. Good plan, huh?
It took about a minute of me pounding on the door for the zombies on the other side to start pounding back, and I was just about to open the door when it suddenly exploded off its hinges, directly at me. It caught me across my chest and flattened me to the ground.
I groggily tried shoving that door off. Everybody started firing and yelling. Out of the doorway came two zombies. One wore the body of a man and the other used to be the receptionist. The receptionist zombie came out first but was shorter. The man zombie came out behind it and got shot in the face about ten times. We were all a lot more scared of that big hulking man zombie than that petite little receptionist zombie. That was a mistake.
Receptionist zombie reached one hand down, slow as you please, grabbed the metal door that was on me, and tossed the whole thing aside like it was a paperweight. The door flew fifteen feet and bent a metal fence pole double. Right about then I was getting nervous.
I scrabbled backwards on my butt as it strode foreword. Not ‘stumbled’. Strode. Another hail of gunfire and I saw chunks flying out of its torso, chest and arms. It’s erratic movement caused a shot or two to miss it completely. Down came a tiny little hand and up I went, foot first. It had me by the shoe, trying to send me on the same journey as that metal door. I kicked at the hand that held me and my shoe went flying. I fell down flat and was glad that I got to keep my foot. Finally, Mr. Ottenbocker found his calm and put it down for good, with one well considered shot right between its eyes. That was my first experience with an ogre.
The level of strength it displayed was unreal. The ghouls were stronger than they looked, and unbelievably fast. The zombies were ridiculously strong but equally clumsy and slow. Now this. I wanted to scrap the mission and run home, but first I walked over and got my shoe back. That gave me time to think.
By the time I’d re-shod I’d reconsidered. We’d went through a lot of trouble for this and we were still all okay. It was time to calm down and think straight.
I went to the dead man zombie, grabbed his keys and made my way back to our trucks. Everybody followed, reloading as we went. We got hooked up and were on our way in no time.
-
Smittburg was just a tiny town. A place where two roads crossed and nothing more. They had a bait shop, a gas station, a mail box, and a Verdant Palisade drug store. Of course, there were four bars, one on each corner, but in Wisconsin that’s to be expected. Some people would come bar hopping from as far away as Lawarenceville to get liquored up there, before driving home.
We drove through town first, honking all our horns, calling them out. We led a bunch of zombies on a slow chase at first. Then a ghoul showed up and we had to accelerate. We were traveling at 25 mph but it was catching up. I accelerated and the ghoul followed. At over 40 mph we managed to pull away from it well enough, leaving it in our dust.
As soon as it was out of sight I signaled for everyone to stop. I wondered if that ghoul was still following us, so we waited just over a real low rise, waiting.
I figured it had given up the chase when Mr. Stein said, “Oh no,” real quiet like. I looked behind me, the way he’d been looking, and there it was sneaking up behind us.
It must have circled around using the woods for cover. I could tell it was the same one by how it was dressed. By the time I’d rounded my new rifle (one I’d taken from in town, a nice pump action 12 gauge) it was right there in front of me. Everybody opened fire but it sort of ducked under most of the gunfire. That’s what I’d feared would happen, so I’d been shooting low and hit it in the leg. That knocked it down. I stomped on its arm to hold it in place, more or less, while everyone else kept trying to shoot it in the head while making sure to miss me. Instead of trying to get away it tried to reach for me with its free hand. I knew that was coming, too, so I brought down my stock on it’s head before it could bite me. I’m a slow learner but I do get there.
By some miracle nobody had shot me.
I thanked everybody and reorganized the group. We all got in one truck. Out went the propane. Off went the trailer. Mr. Stein would drive. I’d ride shotgun. Everyone else in back, tied off real good. Mr. Ottenbocker facing back. Mr. Weber to the left and Roger to the right. Then we went back nice and slow.
We found the mob still on the road so we turned around and made a fighting withdrawal of it. There were no more ghouls but I might have spotted an ogre. It was hard to tell. Mr. Ottenbocker was really back on his game, killing them before the rest of us had time for a good look. That was fine by me.
Eventually we made it back to the drug store and got ready to go in. After all the noise we’d been making I figured it might be safe, with all the zombies drawn out. But, then again, we’d had one helluva day so far. I remember wishing that we had a machine gun or some hand grenades.
I got out the big, ax/maul that I’d brought along. I smashed the front doors in, showering glass everywhere. No lights, but it was bright enough from outside so we could find our way. Roger lit up a flashlight anyway. I asked everyone to hold their fire and in I went, telling Mr. Weber to stand guard by the truck.
The store was a mess. The stink of rot was oppressive, making my eyes water. I found what I guessed was the body of an employee, all torn up and bitten. Dried blood all over. Around her corpse were three other bodies, all of which had jagged bloody dents in their heads. The employee still had a big, brain covered can of corn in her hand. A warrior born, she’d gone down swinging. Her name tag read ‘Tina’. For memorial purposes, I grabbed it.
In the back we saw the pharmacy. I hammered the plastic partition away and a zombie stood up just on the other side. I got back and let Mr. Ottenbocker and Mr. Stein make an end of it. Roger went back to report to Mr. Weber.
I got in there and started handing stuff back. All the drugs were ‘over the counter’ that day. It was much darker back there, so I was glad when Roger came back with the light. After about ten minutes of quality looting we heard gunfire out front so we ran for the door. There had been only two of them and by the time we got there Mr. Weber had taken care of it.
There was a security door in the pharmacy. I tried bashing it down but it was made of steel, and the hinges were on the other side. Mr. Stein said,“Try going through the wall.” I found that to be much easier. We had so much medicine we had to leave most of it for a second trip. All in all, a good haul.
Once we had gotten back, closer to home, we took everything across the river except the trailers of propane. To get those across we’d have to fix the bridge at that just didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Labor, without profit, is waste,” my dad always said. I figured we could reuse the small tanks by filling them up from the big trailer tanks, no problem. I was getting curious about what might be in those two semis on the bridge, though. I decided to leave them for the morrow.
Everyone was happy to see us back safe. I asked Mr. Ottenbocker, Mr. Weber, Mr. Stein and Roger to downplay the danger in front of Anna. No sense worrying her. I was glad to see that Hector had managed to poach a deer in our absence. I guess it wasn’t poaching anymore, since the
re was no DNR. We kind of made a party of it. Everyone from all the houses came over. It was just like before everything changed. It was nice.
Next morning things were getting chilly out. A light dusting in the night and way overcast that morning. Not good signs.
I went to the bridge anyway. All those zombies had been cleared out days ago and I was curious. To tell you how safe I thought it was, I even took Anna and a couple of her friends, Samantha and Esmeralda. Hector and Roger came along too.
On foot, we could walk around the semis by balancing on the remaining wooden guard rail. That gave me a good excuse to help Anna down on the other side. After that, Hector climbed up and flung that semi’s door straight up. Why would anyone think that a zombie had been hiding in the back? It just didn’t stand to reason. But there it was.
Right off, the girls and Roger screamed. Hector was too surprised to move so I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back just as the zombie reached down for him.
The zombie fell foreword, flat on its face. Its hands reached out and grabbed at Hectors ankles. Roger really stepped up then. He grabbed out his knife (by then we all carried them), knelt down, and stabbed that thing before it could use its grip. Very smooth, right through its head.
The girls didn’t see any point in sharing this adventure with their folks. Neither did Hector or Roger. I told them to get back to the McKennon place. That’s where Mr. Muller, Esmeralda’s dad, was staying. They could all pretend to have been hanging around there. Meanwhile I’d go back and report. Take responsibility and just not bring up the company I’d been keeping.
I found Mr. Stein, Mr. Herst and Mr. Muller all working together on a fence around the McKennon yard. I told them what I had found and asked if they’d come back with me to the semis. They had a lot more trouble crossing on the guard rail than I’d have thought. I think Mr. Herst was afraid of heights.
Mr. Stein said that he figured the big trucks must have been taken from some giant supermarket down south, or maybe from somewhere along the bay. The folks who stole them probably thought they were fast thinking and ahead of the game. I wondered if they had time to realize that they’d only delayed their changing. I hoped not.