Haven From Hell: Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse

by Won, Mark

  By nightfall the temperature had risen considerably. By morning all that snow from the previous two days had started to melt, so I started to prep the tractor and look after the plow. I’d hoped maybe we would finally get the weather we were due. All the equipment seemed in order.

  Mr. Ottenbocker, Mr. Weber, and Mr. Schneider went out to the bridge to inspect that second semi. They came back with a story about another zombie hidden in the back, one which they’d been well prepared for. Inside had been tons of canned fruit, tampons, toilet paper, and beans. Mostly beans.

  Mr. Weber said he thought there was some extra movement from town. Maybe some zombies moving through. I was torn between looking into the matter and planting preparation.

  I decided to put off plowing. The weather had been just on the edge of good plowing weather for some weeks now. I couldn’t afford to damage a plow so I figured to wait until the earth was thawed practically all the way through. God willing, I would plow in a couple of days. Didn’t want to wait too long, though. I would have to keep an eye on it.

  I decided that I might as well have a look around town to make sure everything was safe. I took Hector and Roger with me. Once we started driving around I could tell something was wrong. The zombies were dressed more like city folk, and all their shoes had been worn through. It looked like some kind of walking corpse migration.

  Naturally, they saw us. The stumblers didn’t scare me any. Way to slow. They all started that moaning the way brainless city zombies do. I kept my eyes pealed for any ghouls. Sure enough, four of them came running out of the main mass of undead straight toward us. That was way too many. I shouted for Hector to put the pedal down, so he did.

  One of them was in front of us and Hector tried hitting it with the grill. It just jumped up onto the hood and smacked the windshield hard enough to crack it. Hector did a quick swerve with the steering wheel and the ghoul went flying. We turned a corner and picked up speed.

  All four were behind us moving about thirty miles an hour. I tried to aim with my shotgun but I couldn’t hit anything in the head while bouncing around at that speed. I asked Hector to take us out of town and away from the horde. That bought us some time and distance.

  I told Hector to stop and we came to a screeching halt. Roger and I bailed out and got in the back of the truck. Then we took off again, keeping those four at a distance. We kept shooting at them like that until we got lucky and managed a head shot.

  Right after that Hector shouted out and hit the breaks. I looked over my shoulder to see what the problem was. The problem was a road full of zombies stretching as far as the eye could see. Which, come to think of it, wasn’t all that far. Hector had just rounded one curve and they’d come into view. About fifty yards further on the road curved through the woods and I lost sight of the rest of them. It looked like thousands packed pretty tight. And I’d seen thousands.

  We couldn’t go foreword, we’d never push through. Trees all around with nothing but ditches along the road. Behind us the ghouls were closing fast. I told Hector to put it in reverse and just go nice and slow. I put down my gun and picked up my maul from the truck’s bed.

  The ghouls started to jump for us and that’s when I swung. I killed one just as it landed in front of Roger. He shot it anyway. The next one landed just in time to catch my back swing in the neck. It kept right on moving, doubled over, until its head broke through the rear cab window. The truck swerved sharply and I went over the side and crashed onto the macadam.

  I learned later that Hector was pretty freaked out by that ghoul head exploding through the window like that. After his initial jerk of the wheel he straightened everything out, took up his hatchet, and smacked that thing till it quit moving. To hear him tell it the ghoul couldn’t figure out if it should try to break the rest of the way in, back out, or just snap it’s teeth at Hector’s head.

  The last ghoul had been a long way back. Either Roger or I must have hit it in the leg because it was running relatively slowly, although still faster than a man. I could see the big leg bone sticking out of the side of its leg as it leapt at the truck after Roger. He shot it in the other leg just before it made its jump, causing it to come up short. It helped that Hector had put the truck into drive and was coming back to pick me up, thereby increasing the distance.

  By the time I’d climbed back in the truck bed, I could see that last ghoul was pulling itself along using only its hands. I told Hector to turn around. He was in the middle of a Y- turn when that stupid ghoul managed to climb its way over the tailgate.

  Roger was fast then! Before I even lifted my maul he blasted the top of its head right off. Brains and gore all over the road. It looked like that modern art stuff I saw in class once. You know the stuff, like a three year old’s finger painting, except without the heart.

  We got going back toward town when another five ghouls came sprinting toward us from behind. This was getting dangerous. They must have broken free of the giant pack we’d just turned around to avoid. Roger started reloading and I started shooting at their legs.

  Legs are a much easier target than heads, but not as satisfying to hit. Between the two of us we managed to put them all off their feet. I hoped the horde behind them would trample them to death.

  With that distraction taken care of, I shouted to Hector through the broken back window. We needed to turn off before we got back to town. If we didn’t, we would run into the first group of zombies we’d been fleeing from. It wouldn’t do to get caught between the two hordes.

  Hector took the first turn and we managed to circle around. Even on the side roads we ran into small groups of zombies, numbering two to ten. Hector just plowed them down and kept going. We saw several large groups but managed to keep our distance. We were all exhausted by the time we’d crossed the stream and made it back home.

  I had some time to do math while Doctor Adams looked over all my new scrapes and bruises (I’d managed to ruin my favorite jacket, too). I’d counted nine ghouls. The whole town of Deercrossing had only two ghouls (that I knew of). Lawarenceville had three ghouls. So, two ghouls for two hundred fifty zombies (or so) and three ghouls for just over four thousand zombies. Obviously, I couldn’t expect a strict per capita ratio of zombies to ghouls but the nine ghouls we’d just encountered seemed like a lot. I had to guess about eight or ten thousand zombies in the area. Maybe more.

  I let Doctor Adams know my thinking and he agreed. I said that it seemed that the wisest course of action was to lay low, make no noise, light no fires and hope they all just went away. Doctor Adams allowed that was the only reasonable thing to do. We agreed to split up and tell everyone at once. That’s when we heard gunfire.

  I got outside and listened. The shooting was coming from the direction of the bridge. I hopped into my dad’s truck and got over there as fast as I could. There was Mr. Ottenbocker, and Mr. and Mrs. Fisher just shooting up a storm, seeing who could get the most head shots in a minute.

  They were firing at a horde of zombies just across the bridge. Those zombies were dumb and clumsy, but determined. Some were already at the stream, looking for a way across. Others had found our little walking bridge and were busy falling off trying to cross it. I wondered why they didn’t just walk across the stream bottom. Others were spreading all along the other bank as far as I could see and, I had to assume, probably farther.

  I was too late.

  I drove up to those three shooters and said, “Mr. Ottenbocker, It’s just a matter of time until they cross. Gunfire attracts them. There’s at least ten thousand of them. How many bullets do we have?”

  That got his attention. “I don’t know if we’ve got even half that many, John.”

  Ammunition hadn’t been a problem so far. Every house had at least one firearm and most had more like four or five. Naturally, we had what seemed like enough bullets for any normal situation, but this was something else.

  “Mr. Ottenbocker, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, Could you please drive back and warn everyone that a sie
ge may be coming. Nail the doors shut. Board up all the windows, even the second floor windows. And save your ammunition for the ghouls. They’re fast. You wouldn’t believe how fast! I gotta go!”

  With that I drove along the steep bank on our side of the stream until I came to the original place where Mr. Herst and everyone from church had crossed with the canoes. We had used many of the canoes to make our floating bridge, but a few had been left behind.

  I bailed out of the truck, grabbed my maul and started down slope to the river. We’d used the standing trees as fence posts to make our fence along the bank. Easy enough for a human to slide under but the dead would surely have trouble. Once at the edge of the water I righted a canoe and started paddling away from the direction of the bridge. I saw the hungry dead spaced sparsely along the opposite bank, all looking at me with ravenous, hate filled eyes. I realized that I needed a plan. All I was able to come up with was a vague idea.

  I went to the zombie covered side of the river and ran uphill. On my way I saw one of those rotting things in my path. One quick swing with my maul and down it went. Onward I ran, up to the top, and then I really had to run and dance to keep away from those things.

  My idea had been to draw them all off, or at least most of them. Now I needed a car. I only had keys to Mr. Herst’s minivan and that was parked back by the bridge. I could find a car closer but I would never have time to hot wire it before I got ripped apart. At least the ‘draw them off’ part was working.

  After a half dozen hearty swings of my maul I got clear of the enemy, and ran at a full sprint through town, swinging at them only when necessary. I continued on, with them closing in on all sides, moaning like the damned on judgment day, until I found myself coming up on the back of the high school. The ground floor windows were all busted out, and I still saw some shambling horrors lurking up on the second floor. Gasping for breath, I jumped through a ground floor window and tried to keep myself to a brisk walk. I needed to get my wind back.

  Moving into the hallway, keeping alert for any zombies left behind, I moved stealthily through the corridors. Over my own ragged breathing, I heard the enemy entering the building behind me. I was moving through the school, desperately hoping to reach the main entrance before any zombies reached me.

  I had to pass a couple of staircases to reach my destination. Those things were intimidating. I couldn’t afford to get cut off since I’d never have time to fight my way through. The first one went by okay. Nothing lurking on those steps.

  At the second stairwell there was a zombie standing on the landing. He looked down as I hurried by and gave out a nearly inaudible moan. At that, all the zombies on the second storey started to zero in on my location. They started a low whispering susurration in reply and a few began tumbling down the stairs. I kept my pace brisk, stayed ahead of them, and made it out the front doors in one piece.

  Once outside again, I went to the bike racks and picked out one I really liked. A Trek mountain bike. I smashed the lock, got on, and rode like hell. It was kind of fun. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed being on a bike.

  Right off there were a bunch closing in on me, so I rode at the thinnest ranks of the enemy swinging my maul one handed. I conked one flat on the crown, and down it went. I laughed and rode on by.

  Now that I had some speed up, all I had to worry about were those damned ghouls. I’d hoped that Roger, Hector, and I had killed or incapacitated all of them. I stayed on the grass and dirt ways as much as possible. They followed as best they could and I lead them on, away from home.

  Around nightfall, I figured it was time to work my way around in the darkness, to get away from all them I’d been keeping close. I put on some speed and took a trip over a good field. The ground had a real nice crunchy feel to it. Like ice cracking beneath my tires. Definitely time to plow.

  I took a long circuitous route back and rode straight down the slope toward the river. It gave way into a marshy spot and my new bike sank to the hub. I saw a shadowy figure on the other side trying to get by the fence we’d built. I think it heard me because it turned around like it was looking for something.

  I kept real still. The last thing I wanted was to attract attention now. After a bit, it started stumbling downhill. At first I thought it saw me, but no, it didn’t moan. Then I realized that it had just forgotten what it had been doing and was merely heading the direction gravity was taking it.

  I started to wade across to the other side as quietly as I could. That water was still freezing cold but I managed not to chatter my teeth. Once over, I snuck up behind the zombie and killed it. Then I made my way up the bank.

  That fence was more of an obstacle than I’d thought it would be. Sliding under the fence while moving downhill had been easy but trying to get under the fence while going uphill proved quite a challenge. I pert near broke my neck going about it. Once through, covered in mud from head to foot, I topped the crest and finally got a look across the farmland by moonlight.

  There was nothing much to see. I mean, of course there were outbuildings, the farmhouse with a fence around, a copse, waiting fields and a few scattered trees. But no zombies. The farmhouse lights were all off. I decided to get closer.

  The house stood unbarred and unshuttered. I risked a peek inside and found it empty. At least nothing answered my low call. Weird. No blood at least, so I took that as a good sign. No cars either. I moved on toward the next couple of farms, sticking to the trees when I could.

  Those were both in the same condition. They still had plenty of supplies in them. It looked like everybody had just decided to leave suddenly. But to where? All I could think to do was keep going.

  My house was the same as every other one so far. I looked it over more carefully and found a note on the fridge. It read: ‘Dear John, the reverend has us all going to Mr. Franklin’s farm. Love, Anna’

  Well, that explained the mystery. Nice of her to think of leaving a note. Nothing for it but to start hiking to the Franklin place. I still had to be careful. I knew there had to be some of those rotting bodies lurking around somewhere. I didn’t fancy meeting them in the dark but their vision didn’t seem any better than mine. Maybe worse.

  Just before I left the house I went into Mom’s jewelry box and got some of her old rings.

  Eventually, I got to Mr. Franklin’s farm. The night had partly overcast by then and the moon was hardly shinning through. Even if I’d thought to grab a flashlight I wouldn’t have used it. It seemed strange to think that using a flashlight at night might’ve been a bad idea, but those were the times we lived in. I expected any light or noise on my part would bring down some unseen horde upon me.

  When I got about four hundred yards from the farmhouse, I could just barely make out a littered scattering of corpses covering the ground. The house itself was only a smudge at that distance. Looking closer I saw that each one had a nice little hole drilled right in it’s skull, directly into the brain. A small caliber. Maybe a .22. Most were missing a chunk of ear or had a crease along the temple or jaw. Many had a bloody part in their hair.

  Moving closer to Mr. and Mrs. Franklin’s house, I looked to see what else might be about. What I saw was quite a few more corpses laying afield. All with the same kind of head wounds. There must have been hundreds. As I walked toward the farmhouse I took a moment to think about what must have happened.

  Obviously, some zombies did get across the river. They must have moved steadily farther from the stream after crossing it, until they came to the Franklin farm. All my friends must have fled before them. Why? Then I understood. Noise from a puny little kid’s gun wouldn’t reach the river from Mr. Franklin’s place. Mr. Ottenbocker and the rest could take their time and finish them off, without drawing the attention of any more from across the way. Thanks to some good thinking, the zombies that I’d drawn off might stay drawn off.

  I never heard the shot that downed me.

  When I woke up I found myself in a strange bed. Then came a new pain all along t
he left side of my head. I must have made some noise because the door to the bedroom opened and in came Doctor Adams. I remember hearing children playing in the hall outside.

  He looked embarrassed, “You’ve been shot along side the head John, but you’re fine.” I think he said that last trying to make himself believe it.

  “I don’t feel fine. Where’s Anna? Wait, what happened? Did the enemy learn how to shoot?” That would be very, very bad.

  That’s when Anna appeared in the doorway looking beautiful and all pinched and worried at the same time. I laughed to see her.

  I said, “That sure is a lovely dress.” Always lead with a compliment. Especially a true one.

  Then Mr. Ottenbocker and Mrs. Fisher were pushing Anna into the room, following her in. The room was getting cramped. They both started apologizing at once.

  It seemed those two had another competition going to see who could get the most head shots. They both saw something approaching and thought the worst in the poor light. So now I had a new scar right along the left side of my head, just above the temple. Oh, well.

  I pardoned them both, of course. After all, it was my own stupid fault. I should have waited until morning light to go up to the house. I even knew I was standing on the killing ground when I got shot. My Dad always told me, “There’s a price for being stupid. Try to never pay it.” I should’ve listened better.

  It was pretty funny listening to the two of them bicker about which one actually had the good aim to hit me, then realize what they were talking about and start apologizing again.

  After all that, they explained that, while I’d been asleep for the last twelve hours, a number of men had went out to finish off any lingering zombies. Especially any at the river fence. They used axes so as to keep things quiet.

  I asked about ghouls. Mr. Ottenbocker told me how there had been three that attacked the Franklin place, well before the main group of zombies had showed up. Nobody could hit them, at least not in the head. They came through the upstairs windows, just climbed up the side. Hector pinned them with a pitchfork and Roger chopped them with an ax. Good thing they didn’t all reach the farmhouse at the same time. A number of the men were scratched and bit as it was.