Haven From Hell: Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse

by Won, Mark

  By the grace of God I glanced over and saw Deborah looking at me with her eyes all round and her bottom lip trembling. I ordered Delphi to get her out of there, then sent everyone else, except Greg, out of the room. My family had all followed me, armed and ready. I looked over at my son, Greg.

  “Well, son, Deborah’s your granddaughter, too. Should I pull this trigger?” I was regaining my senses.

  Greg replied, “Don’t do it, Dad. They’ve learned their lesson. That was the very last stupid thing Dylan and his friends will ever do.”

  I said, “That, I very much doubt. Listen up you morally diseased neo-hippies. The only reason you’re alive right now is because I honestly believe you didn’t touch Bee. There’s no way even you trash are that vile. Showing her that filth was inexcusable, and for that you deserve to die.” At that Dylan’s bladder opened up.

  “But my son says you’ve seen the light, so I’ll let you live. For now. Mess with my family again and out you all go. Greg, get their guns.” Naturally, I’d armed them the very first night they slept under my roof. All they’d had with themselves when they’d arrived were a few 9mm pistols (suffering from poor maintenance). I made sure they were relieved of those as well.

  Greg told me, “Dad, I got this. Go look after Deborah. You have some explaining to do.”

  He was right of course. I had to take a heart pill, too.

  -

  I made sure to spend many hours with Deborah the following day. I let her sit on my shoulders. We played with Spot and Zilla, and I let her help feed the sheep. I must have lost ten board games to her.

  I realized that I had no way to meaningfully excuse my actions. Instead I had Dylan and his grubby friends excuse me to her. I made real sure they each explained just how bad they’d been to teach her those words and to show her those things. How it wasn’t funny for grown men to say such things to a little girl. I even made sure they explained to her how they were trying to get even with me for making them turn the TV off. I made them explain the righteousness of my deeds for me. That did the trick.

  After that the Tattoo Crew got their act together. They started helping out around the place. There wasn’t actually a lot of work to do, but from their point of view it was probably like a sweat shop. Not that any of them were educated well enough to know what a sweat shop was. After a week without excessive foul language (and none around the kids) I gave them their guns back and asked them if they’d walk a patrol with me.

  The perimeter was still clear. I guessed that all those of the type to charge a fortified position had been put down. All that were left were those either too smart or too stupid to attempt to charge a wall with a razor wire topping.

  The Crew and I enjoyed some target practice. Those boys couldn’t shoot worth a damn. I taught them how to clean their pistols and gave them a few pointers on stance and aim. By the day’s end I had them making head shots with rifles on targets at fifty yards away about a third of the time. I called their women over so we could all get some practice.

  Then I got down to brass tacks. “I hope you all can forgive my anxious behavior last week. I was... excessive. If you give me a chance I’d like to try and make it up to you. Welcome you all into the family. I know Cynthia, there,” I motioned to one of the Tattoo Crew women, “has been getting along real well with Elizabeth and Mia. That’s the kind of harmony I like to see. It warms my heart. So what do you say?”

  They all agreed, and we sealed our mutual forgiveness with a flask of vodka I’d brought along for just that purpose.

  -

  It wasn’t too much later that fellow, Mark, started telling us that things were going well enough for him to be sending out crews to bring people in, if they weren’t too far away. Mostly the Great Lakes region for just then, though he hoped to have greater range soon. He also mentioned that some travelers from as far away as Florida had made their way all the way up north to his haven. They came by way of New Orleans. The way Mark told it that city hadn’t been hit by the Change at all. They’d just torn themselves apart the ordinary way.

  Mark asked if I’d reconsidered moving to ‘Haven’. That’s what he called the islands he was setting up shop on. I had to think about it for a minute. Then I told him I was happy staying in my family home. I told him about how all the land round used to belong to me and mine, and how the city annexed me and hiked my taxes through the roof. I basically told him my whole story, including the juicy bits, except for the involvement of friends.

  None of that bothered him. He said he’d have done the same things if he could. A man has a right to his own property and woe betide any who sought to steal. His offer remained open. That really touched me. Most folks were just so judgmental about premeditated self defense and justifiable homicide, but that Mark fellow seemed a perfect gentleman.

  Mark’s offer also set me to thinking about the safety of everyone else I knew about. I made a point of telling Mark all of the locations and addresses of my extended family as well as anyone Tony could think of. Mark said that he’s send some transportation around to pick everyone up as soon as he could.

  I got to thinking about the future of everyone in my house, too. Erik and Elizabeth were getting to the age for serious dating, and George would want to find that someone special soon. Someday, I’d like to see them all married. Tony’s son probably would like to throw his hat in the ring one day, also. Even Deborah would grow up someday. They were going to need someplace better than what I had, somewhere with more people.

  Don’t get me wrong, I loved my home. I never wanted to leave. I’d lived my whole life there. Been married for over forty years there. Fought and lied and killed to keep it. But what about them? They needed to meet people, make friends, have a future. Haven offered all that. They even had plans for schooling next year. That made up my mind.

  I told Mark that some of my family would probably want to travel there. He said that he’d put us on the list and be around in a day or two. Said that he’d call just before he sent anyone. We exchanged citizen band frequencies to make mutual communication with the crew he intended to send easier (he and I had been using the shortwave exclusively until then).

  Tony was all for staying with me, but I told him no. I asked him who’d look after everyone, without me around? I told him that they’d need him in Haven. He asked me to go with them. I told him I’d think about it, but he knew I was lying. Anyway, it was only a couple hours away by car. If haven could keep the streets safe I didn’t see a problem visiting once in a while.

  Chapter 4: The Trouble with Alice, Loving Namesake, and Abandonment

  Elizabeth called me on the radio to tell me she’d picked up someone calling for help on the CB. So I left my chores with Irwin and the Tattoo Crew and went inside to have a chat.

  The caller seemed frightened. She said, “I need help. Those things are outside my door and I’m out of bullets.”

  I replied, “Where are you?” She gave me her address in town.

  “How many of them are there?” If there were only a few dozen, no problem. If there were a few thousand…

  “Two,” she said. I had her repeat that just to make sure I had it right. That made me laugh a little bit.

  “Please help, if you can! I can pay. I have lots of food! I have some tequila. I even have some heroin my boyfriend left behind!”

  “Where’s your boyfriend now?” I asked.

  “He got bit and died,” she replied. Well, if he used drugs she was probably better off without him. I didn’t tell her that, though.

  I did tell her that I’d be right over and not to worry. Then I hung up the CB and got my away package. I told everyone to not worry, I’d only be gone for an hour or so.

  Just then Irwin called me to say three big armored buses was driving down our street. I declared, “I thought Mark said he’d call first!”

  To which Elizabeth told me, “He did, but you were out doing chores. The bus has been calling us regularly for the last hour.”

  Eliza
beth was a cutie, a real treasure. But she was only sixteen. I should have put someone older in her position. I would have liked to have had that information in a more timely manner.

  I left Tony in charge, got in the van and opened the gate. I passed the buses on my way out, and I thought that they looked real nice. You didn’t ever used to see them with a plow on the front, or armored sides either.

  Once outside, I headed slightly deeper into the city. I thought that it would only take me about a quarter hour to find the place. During that time I used my CB to get ahold of my family to make sure everything was alright. Irwin responded with the appropriate discrete call sign and assured me everything was copacetic. Then I re-established contact with the girl. Her name was Alice, she’d been cooped up in her place since this had all started. She’d only started using the CB recently. When I asked her why, she said she just didn’t think of it. I almost got cross with her. Imagine, she could have been safe and sound with us all that time, but instead she was in peril because she didn’t use her head! There were no point in recriminations. At least not until after she was secure.

  Alice lived in a tract house on some land that used to belong to me, but I determined not to hold that against her. I remembered way back when my dad and I would plant potatoes on that particular piece of property.

  The reason it took me a little longer than I thought it would to get to her address, was because all those houses looked alike. The people who build them should be ashamed. Not because they all look alike but because they’re all designed so poorly. If I’d ever done such shoddy design work my dad would have tanned my hide. Then he would have made me sleep in one of them, which would have been even worse.

  Looking past the shoddy building materials and bad craftsmanship, I could see most of the windows broken out and a few of the doors in the neighborhood smashed in. About what I’d come to expect. Although I’d seen a number of zombies on my way over, I couldn’t see any on the front yard of the address that Alice had given me. I assumed that they’d moved on.

  ‘Better safe than sorry’. I got my stuff together and quickly moved to the front door. I knocked as softly as I could.

  Alice answered swiftly. She looked petrified. Clearly she’d seen a hard time. She backed off nervously so I could enter. She was afraid of something and I didn’t get the sense that it was either the zombies or me. I was just getting the feeling that all was not as it seemed when I heard the action of a pump shotgun behind me.

  “Freeze!” a male voice called out, followed by a disparagement of my maternal relationship. I did not freeze.

  When people watch movies the protagonists are always getting captured and then escaping. In the real world that isn’t quite so common. Usually, once a person gets captured by some criminal type things get worse for a while. Then the captive gets killed. Not always, but a lot of the time. So ‘freezing’ didn’t seem like a good long term survival option. Instead, I moved.

  Specifically, I dropped and spun about. I had to figure the only reason I wasn’t shot dead on the spot was because my unseen antagonist either had no ammunition or wanted me alive. If he wanted me alive, I had to assume it was to use me to get more out of me. Such as the location of my home, or to use me as a hostage. Simply put, I would rather die first.

  He opened fire and his shot caught me right between the shoulder blades. Ouch! He was pretty quick with the trigger. So now I knew he didn’t need me alive too badly. Perhaps he had been trying to save on ammunition and/or did not want to risk attracting any zombies to our location. In that case he probably would have killed me as soon as I’d been so foolish as to allow myself to be subdued.

  I love body armor. You should see my collection someday. Just then I was wearing an Ultra-High-Molecular-Weight-Polyethylene suit with a titanium overlay and some nice padding. I know you always hear about how great ceramics are, and I’m sure they were great for the military, back in the day. I just never liked the rate of fracture. I always figured that if I got shot once I’d maybe get shot a lot. Nanomaterials aside (and try getting your hands on those), you can’t beat titanium.

  I managed to finish my spin and had the presence of mind to thumb my rifle to full auto. I never trusted any of that bump stock junk. I had heard that fully automatic firearms were somewhat illegal, but what did the authorities expect from a gunsmith? The important thing was that I had what I needed.

  I let loose with a concentrated spray at everything in about a quarter arc. I loved that battle rifle. She was a thing of beauty, and alive to me. Firing it was like holding hands. I named her ‘Emma’.

  Bodies dropped. I saw the look of surprise on my shooter’s face as bullets tore through his flesh and bone. Two more men had sought to come in the room from around the corner, but they caught a fatal dose of lead poisoning, their guns clattering to the ground as they fell. Every damned one of them had tattoos and ear piercings.

  As I stood back up from my crouch, I reloaded a new clip, and pushed the woman to the ground. Then I opened fire on the rest of the house, keeping Emma nice and level. My bullets easily penetrated through all the house’s interior walls. Another clip in and I asked Alice if there were any more scum in her house. She said there were two more in the kitchen as she pointed to where the others had come from.

  Then Scum number one got back up and lunged for me. If he’d been a little faster he might have had me. His buddies were getting up too. I even heard some shuffling from around the corner, in the kitchen. Alice screamed.

  I threw a home made grenade through the opening to the dining room and bounced it against the wall on the left. It ricocheted around the interposing wall between me and the kitchen. I’ve practiced that very same throw with all my kids many times. Of course, from their point of view I was just using a real heavy, home made ball.

  The trouble with home made explosives is that they are so darn unreliable. Getting a three second timer just right is a bitch and a half. The second worst thing that can happen is that someone will have time to throw it back (not that I’d had to worry about that in this particular instance). Over the years I’ve hit upon a real reliable construction method. Anyway, that time it went off like clockwork.

  Scum numbers two and three were blasted sideways and off their feet. I raised Emma and put a new hole in Scum number one’s forehead. Numbers two and three got the same treatment before they could get back up.

  With pieces of cheaply made house strewn everywhere, I did a quick peek around the corner. I drew no fire, so I did it again, with some full auto authority. Seeing two more bullet riddled bodies down, I made sure that they weren’t going to be doing any postmortem moving. It looked like the blast of the grenade had got the job done. Explosions can really mess with the head.

  I reevaluated Alice. She was in bad shape. Except for not being shot full of bullet holes and blasted by a bomb she was in worse shape than any of the men I’d killed. Bruises on the face, a limp to her walk. I should have noticed something was off as soon as I saw her. She was bait, but not willingly. Well, probably not willingly.

  “Come on,” I told her. “We got to get going before any monsters show up.” She took my hand and followed me out to my vehicle.

  Once outside, I saw a bunch of gutter trash looking over my van with undisguised avarice. There were eight of them and they were all armed with pistols and hunting rifles. Alice stiffened when she saw them and let out a fearful whimper. That was good enough for me.

  I set Emma to semi-automatic fire and started introducing those vermin to the True Lord. I had to be careful not to hit my van. I had put some armor on it but it was pretty cheap stuff. Too many hits would leave holes in the UHMWPE armor (titanium was too expensive, and steel too heavy).

  The trash tried to fire back, but they had no stomach for someone with a gun and the will to use it. A couple tried running. They were easy meat. One took cover behind my van. I decided to reload, and wait a second to see what would happen when the corpses rose.

  Four of t
hem started to come for Alice and I. They were simple enough to finish off. The other three did my work for me by flushing the remaining trash bag hiding behind my ride. He tried shooting them and actually hit one in the head. Then he tried running. I put him down with a head shot, and then turned Emma on the remaining zombies.

  Down the street I saw a few zombies coming our way, so I opened the door for Alice and we got out of there. On the way back toward my home we had some things to discuss.

  I learned that the group that I had shot belonged to a larger body. A gang of sorts. Their part of the town that they hailed from had been partially unaffected by the Change, which I found to be quite interesting. That reminded me of what Mark had said about New Orleans.

  According to Alice, the bandits numbered in the dozens, scores, or hundreds; she was a bit vague on that point. I took some satisfaction in reducing their numbers, but I had a feeling I’d be seeing them again sooner or later.

  That could be a real problem. See, with all the zombie slaughtering that my family and I had been pursuing lately, we were real low on ammunition. Only about eight thousand rounds left, not counting the .22 rim fire. We still had plenty of that.

  When we got back to my front gate, I hit the ‘open’ button on my phone/remote but nothing happened. I checked my unit for damage but it was okay. I wasn’t to worried about it. Sometimes branches got caught up in the track. I got out to take a look. I figured someone inside would see me and come help.

  Instead, what I got was shot at. My first clue was another bullet to the back. That whole getting shot in the back thing was really getting old. At my age bruises don’t heal as fast as they used to.

  I could tell there were three shooters. They had flanked my position (my front gate was recessed by about ten feet), and were hiding in the trees using semi automatic 5.56mm. Probably my old M-16 rifles. The same weapons that I’d lent to the Tattoo Crew.