We left that town in our wake, without looking back. Half an hour later, we were approaching the area where the roadblock with the Humvee was at. I slowed down as we got close to the area. When I topped a hill and saw the Stone County Patrol car, my heart sank. The Humvee was gone. Someone had beaten us to it.
I came to a stop and surveyed the area. There were numerous bodies lying around. All of them had been shot in the head and the area had been picked clean. The patrol car’s doors were open and so was the trunk. There was nothing left.
“I think I know who did this,” I said.
“Your friends?” asked Gunny.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied. “They were really crowded in those two Humvees. If Southard and Spec-4 were smart, they would’ve off-loaded part of the people into the other Humvee and had John drive it. That’s what I would’ve done.”
“Sounds reasonable,” he agreed. “Now what?”
“We keep going,” I said. “We stay in the van.”
“Good.”
When we reached Jamesville, I pulled into the little gas station and stopped. I didn’t see any movement, and there were a few more bodies lying around then when we’d stopped here the last time. Even this remote little town had been destroyed by the dead. They were truly everywhere. The thought struck me again, that this really might be the end of the world.
If that was true, then I was even more determined to find my family and save whatever piece of this world that I could. If any of us were going to survive, it was going to be a hell of a fight. I for one, was going to fight until the last breath to give my children a chance at life. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had left to offer them.
“Why are we stopping here?” asked Gunny.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I just noticed that there were more bodies here than the last time. I wanted to see what else might be different.”
That’s when I noticed that there were more vehicles in the diner’s parking lot, as well. There was a pair of Chevy Suburban’s and a Ford Bronco that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t get to ponder it for long when a gunshot broke the silence. It was a shotgun blast and it took out the windshield, spraying me with glass shards and knocking me against the driver’s window.
My ears were ringing, but my mind was screaming, “MOVE!”
I listened to my mind. I yanked the van into drive and punched the accelerator to the floor. Two more shotgun blasts erupted and I could tell that we’d just lost both passenger side tires. I turned the wheel and hit the brakes, but we struck a fence rail and flipped over onto our side. With a sickening crunch and a screech of metal, we finally came to a stop.
I wasn’t seat-belted in because it wouldn’t fit around my armor. I fell in a heap against the passenger door, right on top of Gunny. He was covered in blood and looked to be out of it. Suddenly, I was angry. Like a white-hot fire in my chest kind of mad. I found my shotgun next to me and yanked it clear of the debris it was under. Then I turned off the safety. I could hear voices and footsteps approaching.
“We got the fucker,” said a male voice.
He sounded young.
“Damn right, we did,” answered another.
This one was young and sounded like a hick.
“Shut the fuck up, you two,” said a third voice.
This one sounded much older.
“Let’s find out what they have,” said number three, again.
A face appeared in the windshield and I shot it at point blank range. There was nothing left of the head as the lifeless body fell to the ground, blood pumping from the top of the neck.
“Sum-bitches are still alive in there,” said the second voice.
“No shit! They killed Jimmy,” said number three.
“Let’s burn ‘em out, then,” said number two.
“Go get the others,” ordered number three. “We’ll get them once we’ve got back-up.”
I heard someone running away.
“Ya’ll might as well surrender,” called voice number three. “There’s way more of us than there are of you. I promise you that.”
Before I could answer, Gunny groaned. He was alive. I couldn’t tell how bad he was hurt, but he was alive. I touched my face and realized I was bleeding. There were pieces of glass stuck in my cheek and forehead. It didn’t hurt much, but it was bleeding quite a bit. Odin crawled out from under a pile of boxes and shook his head. He looked unhurt. That dog has all the luck.
I started to check Gunny when I smelled gas. The gas cans in the back were leaking. If we weren’t careful, we’d go up in a fireball. I took the butt of the shotgun and knocked the rest of the windshield out onto the ground.
“Yeah, that’s it,” said number three. “Toss out your weapons and come out slow, and I might not kill you.”
“Screw you, asshole!” I called back.
In response, number three fired into the roof of the van, blasting a hole I could see light through just a few feet away from me.
“Last chance,” he called back.
“Wylie,” choked Gunny, his voice ragged.
I turned to look at him. His eyes were open, but there was blood all over his left shoulder. I could now see the ragged bullet holes in his chest. The blast sprayed me with glass, but it must have hit him. It looked like he’d caught a couple of buckshot pellets. He needed a doctor.
“Yeah, Guns,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
“These fuckers are gonna kill us, no matter what we do,” he hissed, teeth clenched in pain.
“Probably,” I agreed.
“Just get ready to run,” he said.
“I won’t leave you,” I replied.
“You will if you want to live. You have to for your kids.”
“You go, or I stay,” I said, adamantly.
“Fine,” he hissed through pain-clenched teeth, “let’s get the hell out of here, then.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Guns,” I said, squeezing his arm.
“Fuck sorry,” he wheezed. “Let’s go get your family. We’re gonna take out as many of these fuckers as we can.”
I put on my pack and grabbed all the weapons I could carry. I stuck the shotgun back in its spot on my rucksack and picked up the AR-15. I glanced out the hole that number three had shot through the roof of the van and saw a shadow pass by. I had a rough idea of where he was. I snapped the AR to my shoulder and started firing in that direction as fast as I could pull the trigger. After about a dozen rounds, I heard a scream of pain and a body hit the ground.
“I’m hit,” screamed number three.
“Go!” I hissed. “Go, now!”
Gunny grabbed his pack and crawled out of the windshield, then headed into the woods as fast as he could go on unsteady feet. He had his AR-15 clutched in his good hand. I paused long enough to light a section of the seat on fire. Then I grabbed my range bag and ducked out through the windshield. I ran through the broken section of fence that the van had landed on. Odin was right on my heels. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw a man in his late fifties or early sixties lying on the ground holding his stomach. I’d gut shot him and it made me smile.
I could see nearly a dozen men running towards the van, all with weapons drawn. They hadn’t seen me, since they were concentrating on number three. Just before they reached him, the van exploded in a huge fireball. The force of the blast threw me onto my face and I felt the heat wash over me. I could hear the popping sounds of the ammunition exploding in the fire.
I forced myself to my feet and headed deeper into the trees. Once I was sure I wasn’t being followed, I crouched down with Odin behind some bushes. Gunny was leaning against a tree, blood now covering the front of his shirt. I could still see the flaming wreckage that had been our van. It was serving as a funeral pyre for a good number of those assholes.
When the fire from the explosion died down, I could see that most of the attackers had survived the blast. Two of them were on fire and writhing on the ground. I only counted eight fal
ling back towards the vehicles. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but they ran back towards their vehicles and started piling in.
Seconds later, the three vehicles took off and headed back the way we’d been driving. I could see them turn onto a gravel road at the edge of town and head off to the west. We were safe, but on foot. We were also limited to whatever supplies we’d managed to save. Right now, I had to give Gunny whatever first aid I could. I was going to have to stop the bleeding and get him moving. With him out of the action and me being the only one in fighting shape, we were going to have to be careful. I couldn’t afford to run into anything, dead or alive.
After cutting away the front of his t-shirt, I saw that there were three ragged holes that were seeping blood. None of them were close enough to the heart to be fatal, but he’d lost quite a bit of blood. I didn’t have the equipment or skill to remove the pellets, so I did the best I could. I packed the wounds with gauze and wrapped it in redneck repair tape. Then I rigged a make-shift sling out of a piece of rope. It wasn’t pretty, but it was going to have to work.
“Guns,” I asked, tentatively, “are you going to be able to walk?”
“I damned sure can’t sit here and wait for a fucking ambulance?” he returned, gritting his teeth.
“Alright,” I said, “I’ll carry as much of the gear as I can. You just walk and I’ll cover us.”
Without a word, Gunny headed off into the direction of Springfield. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but doing better than I expected. I’d have to watch him closely to make sure he didn’t bleed out on me.
Grabbing the range bag, I headed off after him. I made sure to stay in the trees, but kept the road in sight. I knew there were vehicles back in town that I might be able to take, but that explosion was like ringing a dinner bell for any undead in the area. Not to mention if that group was still in the area, then going back would be suicide. Our best chance was in putting some distance between us and the little town.
I thought about all we’d lost as we walked away. The fuel, ammo, weapons and food were all gone. We also lost the bows and arrows. I didn’t know who those guys were, but they had cost us dearly. I would have gladly given them the gear if it meant them not shooting Gunny. My rage boiled and I really wanted to find the rest of those scum-bags and make them pay. I didn’t have the luxury of revenge. I had to get to my family, come hell or high-water.
After about an hour, I felt I was far enough from the explosion to take a break and inventory the gear. I found a hidden spot to sit down and took off my pack. The first thing I did was check on Gunny. He was pale and tired. The wound had stopped bleeding, which could be either good or bad.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked.
“Like shit,” he replied, sarcastically. “Thanks for asking.”
“Well, you feel good enough to be a smart-ass,” I said, grinning.
“I’ll be alright,” he said, after a moment. “I just need to rest for a bit.”
I sat down on a rock so Gunny could rest a moment. Then I started to pick the glass out of my face and clean the wounds. They were all minor cuts, so I just ignored them. They weren’t bleeding much, anyway. Next, I inventoried the weapons. I had my rifle, shotgun and pistols. In the range bag was the old Henry repeater and the guns I’d found at the store. I couldn’t help but smile when I discovered that I still had my hammer.
Gunny had his AR-15 and two 1911 .45’s. His pack was full of ammo, but he’d lost his shotgun and the M1. We’d also lost the majority of the supplies and gear we’d scrounged. We weren’t exactly unarmed. We had plenty of ammo, but the problem was food.
I had two cans of ravioli and one of baked beans. Gunny had six cans of chili. We didn’t have any water, at all. We were in a bind, for certain. We still had well over twenty miles to go to reach the edge of Springfield, let alone crossing a city full of the dead.
We’d have to find water, if we were going to make it. I could ration the food, but water was another story. I remembered the rule of three: three minutes without air, three hours without shelter, three days without water and three weeks without food. Water had to be a priority.
My biggest problem was going to be weight. All of that gear was heavy. I wanted to toss some of it out to lighten my load, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t make myself leave perfectly good firearms behind. Gunny was too weak to carry a pack, so I loaded all of his gear into mine and let him carry an empty pack.
I stuck as much gear into the range bag as I could and tied it to my pack. I shouldered it and adjusted the straps. It was heavy, but not impossible. I wasn’t planning on setting any speed records, anyway. I’d take it slow and careful. I’d have to be quiet to avoid being seen, by the living or the dead. At this point, I couldn’t trust either. I took a moment to reload both the AR and the shotgun. After I secured the shotgun to my pack, I was ready. I nudged Gunny’s foot and he opened his eyes.
“Time to go, already?” he asked, weakly.
“Afraid so,” I said. “We have to get moving. We’ve got to find a place to hole-up for the night. There’s no way we can make it all the way to Springfield before dark.”
We headed off keeping the road in sight. If we were lucky we could make it to Nixa by nightfall, but we’d have to go around the edge of town to avoid the undead. It would take us out of our way, but it couldn’t be helped. Gunny was a little unsteady on his feet, so I snagged a large tree-branch and lopped off the excess branches with my combat knife. At least it gave him something to lean on.
I walked until I felt like my knees were going to give out, and called for a break. I opened a can of chili for Gunny. He ate with little enthusiasm, but didn’t complain. Then I opened a can of ravioli and dumped half of it on a rock for Odin. I ate the other half slowly, listening for any sounds that would alert me to danger. It was quiet. It was as good a place as any to take a short rest.
“We’ll break here for a while,” I said.
Gunny didn’t argue. He just leaned back against a tree and shut his eyes. I checked his wounds, again. He wasn’t bleeding, but he was very pale. I was going to have to find a place for us to rest for the night where we would be safe from roving dead. I didn’t think I could push him much farther without killing him. I decided to let him rest for a while. It would do me some good, too.
I sat my pack on the ground and used it as a back rest. Then I took off my boots and checked my feet. Just as I feared, I had some pretty large blisters on both. I resisted the urge to pop them and put my socks back on. I decided to leave my boots off for a while and let my feet air out. They were getting pretty rank. I knew that the blisters were going to get worse before we made it back to town.
I considered taking a nap, but was afraid I’d oversleep and leave myself exposed out here in the middle of nowhere. Odin, however, had no such considerations. He was snoring before I had my boots off. I kept half an eye on my watch and allowed myself to rest for an hour. Then I started putting my boots back on. Odin opened his eye and gave me a mournful look.
“Sorry, boy,” I whispered. “Guns, we’d better get moving.”
With a sigh, he lifted his head and watched me get my boots on. When I was up and had my pack on, he slowly got to his feet. Odin sniffed a nearby tree and relieved himself on it, then turned back to me as if to say, “ready.” Gunny took a little longer to pull himself together.
“OK, Wylie,” he said, weakly. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walked for almost an hour when I noticed that there was a clearing up ahead. I stopped at the edge of the trees and saw that I was overlooking a small ravine with a creek running through it. The sides of the ravine were steep and rocky, so I decided not to risk climbing down. I figured I could make it, but Odin and Gunny might have a difficult time.
We backtracked to the road and checked both directions for any sign of movement. I didn’t see any, so we headed for the bridge that crossed the creek. We’d be exposed for well
over a hundred yards before we could slip back into the trees on the other side of the ravine. I kept my fingers crossed and headed off. I let Gunny walk ahead of me so I could watch him and our backs.
As we reached the center of the bridge, I glanced both directions down the creek. I didn’t see anything in the water that might be a threat, so I kept moving. Odin seemed to be content to trot along beside me, so I felt comfortable that there weren’t any undead in the area. That just left the living to worry me. Since all of this had begun, the living had killed almost as many of my friends as the dead.
We reached the far side of the bridge and headed for the trees on the opposite side of the road. We had just reached the tree line when I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. I glanced behind me and saw one of the Suburban’s coming my way at a decent rate of speed. I estimated they were going about fifty miles per hour.
“Gunny, get some cover,” I said. “We’ve got company.”
For just a moment, my heart skipped a beat when I thought they were looking for us. Then I realized that if they had known we survived the explosion, they’d have been after us a long time ago. I decided a little payback was in order. Shouldering my rifle, I waited until they were close enough for me to see the driver. I observed four men inside the vehicle, all armed. They didn’t seem to be watching the sides of the road. That meant that they were sure that they were safe. I could hear the twangy voice of a country singer blaring out something about a country boy surviving.
I hesitated for just a moment before shattering their safe feeling. I put two rounds into the driver’s side window. The first one shattered the window, but I saw blood fly from the second one. I knew it had been a headshot. The big vehicle swerved, then went off into the ditch. It slammed in without slowing down and flipped over; rolling several times before coming to rest on it’s top.
“Wait here,” I said.
I headed towards the wreckage at a trot with Odin hard on my heels. I slowed down as I approached from the back. Cautiously, I moved forward with my weapon at the ready. Kneeling down, I could clearly see that the driver was dead. Most of the top of his head was gone. The man in the front passenger seat was thrown from the vehicle. He landed face first in the rocks about fifty feet from the wreckage. I could clearly see that his neck was broken.
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