The Zombies of Lancaster

by Frank Weltner

  "Give me a towel," he demanded. Sigurd was impressed. He handed his dad a towel.

  "You look like shit, dad," he said.

  "I look better than you will if I have to haul off on you, son."

  His dad smiled at him and got back into the car.

  "You do look pretty bad, dear," his wife told him.

  He looked in the mirror.

  "Survival has become a lot dirtier these days, Donna," he said. "This might the new look. Nothing we can do about it."

  Johannes and Hilda looked at each other as though their father was crazy.

  "Best to stop somewhere and change clothes and wash up a bit, dad," Hilda said.

  "Yea, dad," Johannes said.

  Fredrick smiled at his wife. "I guess I'm pretty grisly, eh?"

  "Yep. God awful, Fredrick. You look like fresh liver."

  He laughed. "Better than a corpse," he said. "I won't stop next time. My inner good Samaritan has left me, and he's not returning. I promise. Live and learn, I guess."

  He drove carefully. He didn't want a mishap. He had plenty of gasoline, and there were cans filled with more of the stuff in the trunk. They were traveling lean and mean. Wherever they ended up, they'd find new furniture in abandoned homes and farms. The future was unknown, but there were positives in the vast number of free living choices they now had.

  After a hundred miles, they came by a sign that said, JESUS SAVES. It was reassuring. Maybe people were settling in and building a better life for themselves. A town appeared with a series of crosses to the sides of the road which ran up to a road block. Men with rifles pointed at them ordered them to stop. Each guard wore a large cross around his neck. The sign at the town's entrance read, JESUS TOWN.

  "We need to inspect you," The main guard said. "Do you have any infected with you?"

  "No."

  "Get out. We have to check you for bites. We ain't taking no more chances. We've been bit and gutted before, and it ain't happening again. I hope you understand."

  "Who are you?"

  "Christians," the man said.

  "So are we. Let us through."

  "I can't do that. Now, get out! I'm not warning you again. Get out or I'll shoot you all."

  "Guess we are leaving the car," Fredrick announced. "Do whatever the man says."

  The guards spread eagled them all and patted them down, crotches and all. The Amish were not used to this much closeness, but they were under the gun, so they just figured under the grim circumstance that it was best to do what these men ordered.

  "Have you been bitten? Ever?"

  "No."

  "Is that right?" the guard asked. "About you, son? What's your name?"

  "Sigurd."

  "Been bitten, son?"

  "Nope. Never been bitten."

  "Well, you only get one bite. Then we kill you."

  "Understood, sir."

  "What's your name, son?" he asked Sigurd's brother.

  "Johannes."

  "Hey, we got us a nest of krauts here!" the guard yelled. "Been bitten?"

  "No, sir. I've never been bitten."

  "Okay, son." The guard fluffed the boy's hair. He smiled at Fredrick. "Nice set of boys, Fred," he said.

  "I think so."

  "Of course you do. You should."

  He turned to the girl.

  "How about you, pretty girl. Been bitten ever."

  "Five years ago my cat bit me."

  "Anything else bite you?"

  "Nope."

  "Mam, what about you?"

  "Never been bit," Bertha said.

  "Scouts honor, mam?" the guard asked.

  "Yep."

  "Good. You look healthy."

  "How about you,?" he asked Fred's wife.

  "Nope. No bites."

  He checked her over.

  "They are okay!" he yelled. "Let them pass!"

  The men opened the wood gate.

  Fred started the car again. He waved to the guards and slowly drove into the town.

  #

  Once inside Jesus Town, the Schneidholsts proceeded toward the town's center. People here seemed a bit below the mental average.

  "Are these guys retarded, Fred?" Bertha asked.

  "I dunno, mom. They do seem a bit on the dull side, though." Fred said.

  "Dull?" Hilda said. "They are fucking retards!"

  "Now, Hilda, don't be like that."

  "Like what? Like truthful? Just how politically correct do I have to stoop not to offend people who are this ignorant looking? Do you want me to crawl and lick their boots for my behavior to be acceptable?"

  "Yea," Sigurd said. "I want you to crawl, princess."

  "Ain't happening, Sigurd," she said. "No frigging way. Look! They are inbred genetic freaks! Probably grew up in a small town screwing their brothers and uncles!"

  The Jesus Town cultists were less than good looking. Their eyes betrayed their genetic meagerness. There was something definitely strange that ran through most of them. They were the type of people you could only find on the Sons of Anarchy television series. They wore a combination of farm and motorcycle club clothes. Boots were the footwear of the day for most of them. They had a nasty body odor about them. Obviously, they didn't bathe a whole hell of a lot.

  "Let's get out of this place!" Johannes said, "before they stop us and ask Sigurd and me for a date."

  Fred laughed.

  "They are not that bad," he said. "We'll be all right."

  "Hopefully," his wife Donna said. "Either that or we will be dead before long. I really don't like this place. I can second what the kids say."

  "I say the same thing," Bertha said. "I just happen to be the grand matriarch here, and I say let's skedaddle out of here fast."

  Donna chuckled and winked at her. Her confession was pure Bertha.

  Fred was of a like mind. This town was an anti-American cult. It seemed more than a bit creepy just being here. If these retards were all these so-called Christians were able to attract as their body of worshipers, then the religion didn't hold much promise.

  Up ahead, signs trailing across the street announced "Save the White Aryan Race!" and "Nigger Beware!” and "You Ain't Wanted!"

  Fred stopped at a store for supplies, and the family poured into the building, afraid to stay alone in the car. The tiny Aryan store handled typical supplies, but most of the shelves were fairly empty.

  "Got any more stock for your shelves?" Bertha asked.

  The young man at the counter wore the typical JESUS TOWN RULES! tee shirt that seemed super popular.

  "We have trouble finding more stuff," he explained. "I guess the world is less now that the zombies have come. You know how it is. Say, want to come to the preaching tonight?"

  Fred shrugged.

  "Nope. I think we need to get out of town before dark, son. We don't feel comfortable here."

  "Say! I bet you folks are Jews running into the woods. Am I right?"

  "Nope. We aren't Jews." Hilda said. "I don't even know a frigging Jew. Why would you even ask us that?"

  Donna looked at Fred. These people were a little more backwoods than they had originally figured.

  "Because you don't want to attend a Christian service," the young man said, "so I figured you weren't Christians, and then I got the idea that maybe you were Jews. Just because it came to me doesn't mean it's true. Get my drift?"

  "My daddy always told me not to discuss religion or politics in public. I'm beginning to see how that might be a good idea," Bertha said.

  The boy behind the counter smiled.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. My name's Al. I'm pretty young, so if what I say isn't right, it's because I'm not trained very well, but I'll do my best. How can I help you?"

  "We need some chips, cheese, bread, and stuff like that."

  "Over there," the boy said. "By the way, I just volunteer to work here three days a week. Its a family store. I know it isn't much, but things were a lot nicer here back in the day before the world
went all to hell from the devil virus."

  "It's okay. I never figured any less of your town because of the store's lack of products. Why don't you help us find some things? Then, we can pay you and get out of your hair."

  "Good idea," Al said.

  Al escorted them to the store's small food sections which amounted to two aisles.

  "This is about all we have right now," Al told them. "Sometimes the truck comes. Sometimes it don't. A lot of people here are broke so they just eat free at the town center. No one's working now, so they don't like have any money to eat on, you know."

  They picked up some dry milk, bread, flour, oil, and some canned meat and fish. The bill was higher than before the plague hit, but they knew it would be. They paid and left the store. Next, they drove to the service station. A bunch of good old boy Christians with prison tattoos flowing across their arms stood in various poses, eying them suspiciously. They acted as slovenly as they could.

  "Where are you boys and girls from?" one of them asked. "I'm Wesley."

  "We are from Lancaster," Donna said.

  "Amish."

  "Sort of Amish. Not anymore. They are all dead now. But we had Amish relatives there before the plague hit. Most of them got bit."

  "We are all Christians and whites here."

  "Amish are Christians. We are also Europeans," Hilda told him. "We don't really look like niggers after all, do we?"

  "I guess you do look sort of white. But, you don't have a nigger in your trunk, do you?" Wesley asked. "We don't cotton to niggers. They's the devil's children, you know."

  "Well, I'll be. We just didn't know that until right now," Bertha said. "Funny, how I learn new things the older I get."

  Wesley looked at the Schneidholst Family. The girls were kind of pretty, and he'd been looking for one a long time.

  "We seem to have us some nigger lovers, boys," he said. "Now, you folks just step out of the car."

  Fred reached under the seat and raised his gun at them.

  "We're not getting out," he said. "Now, son, you just fill our tank right here and now, before I pop you in the head with this here gun of mine."

  Wesley raised his hands.

  "You don't have to get so touchy about it. I didn't mean nothing."

  "Yes. You did mean nothing," Fred said, "And get that damned gasoline in my car right now, or I'm going to DEFCON 5, and you don't want that to happen, I can assure you."

  Wesley looked over his shoulder at his brother.

  "Bill, you start the generator, so I can fill this gentleman's car."

  "Right, Wesley. I'll get right on that."

  The man disappeared into the filling station. They heard the pull cord, and the generator started up.

  "Fill it, Wesley. Right now."

  "Yes, sir."

  Wesley put the nozzle in the tank opening and the gas flowed into Fred's car.

  "No need to get testy here, sir."

  It took three minutes. They heard the nozzle shut off at the fill mark.

  "That'll be $48.34, sir."

  Fred gave him a fifty.

  "Hey, I need a dollar and sixty-six in change. I know as a Christian you wouldn't want to short change your customers, Wesley."

  Another man disappeared and reappeared with the change.

  "Here you go, sir. Now, I hope you enjoyed Jesus Town. Come back any time you feel the need."

  Wesley gave Fred a faked salute.

  Fred didn't even look at the change. He started the car and took off down the road. At the edge of the town, they were stopped once more. One of the Christians wearing a “Jesus Rules Jesus Town” tee shirt lifted the wooden bar across the road, and let them pass.

  "Whew," Donna said. "I consider us lucky."

  "I hate those fuckers, dad." Hilda said.

  "You watch your potty mouth, girl. I'm of a mind that you are edging very close to a much deserved whipping or at the least a finely soaped pie hole where that cuss word came, young lady."

  "Jeez!" she said. "I can't do anything around here."

  #

  The Schneidholst's stopped ten miles out of town. They pulled off onto a side road and disappeared over the hill. From the highway, they could not be seen, so they figured they'd be safe there.

  The kids helped erect two small tents, one for the women and one for the men. As they did so, Fred, Donna, and Bertha put together some vittles for their evening meals. Mostly it was three pieces of white bread for each person, one Vienna sausage, half a cup of warmed peas and carrots, and some canned peaches. It wasn't much, but it was enough considering how rare foods were on the shelves. They'd have to make do like the rest of the lucky who survived. Sooner or later more foods might be arriving at the stores, or at least they told themselves that was true and tried to believe it as best as they could.

  They sat by a campfire and sang a few old songs, then a few horror stories about people lost in the woods until the kids were scared enough to let them inside their tents for that night's peaceful nightmares.

  "Why do you tell those stories?" Donna asked her husband. "You know it scares them to death, don't you?"

  "Yes. I know that."

  "Why then?"

  "Because my dad told them to me, that's why."

  "Totally unreal," she said. "We don't have enough trouble with these animated corpses walking around trying to infect us. Now you have to scare us all."

  "It's fun," he said. "Do you remember fun, Donna?"

  "I remember fun," she said. "Fun was TV, electric lights, hot showers, and stores filled with fresh food. Not what's left in this racist Christian nightmare called Jesus Town. I mean, what a lot of nerve using religion for some ex-inmates' ideas of skinning black people alive and fucking whatever women they can capture on a roadside."

  "They haven't done that yet," Fred said. "Let's just wait and see."

  #

  Wesley and his brother Bill organized a posse to hunt down the family they gave the gasoline to. They wanted to kill the men and take the three women for themselves. Women were as scarce as hen's teeth around here and the white race needed them to reproduce. So, they searched the side roads for the Schneidholst's car. Other Jesus Town scouts were also prowling for stragglers who had passed through Jesus Town and gotten away Scot free. They also set up roadside traps away from town so they could do their thing in secret. Like Wesley and his little brother, they were especially interested in finding beautiful white women and children to seed their movement with Aryans who could be counted upon to insure that their Christian heritage would increase in size and power. The more people they could place under their control, the better their chances were going to be of prevailing in this brave new world where the zombie plague had torn away the anti-White government and offered the purity of the White Race the dream they might once again control the continent as they had done so well from 1725 until the Jews had undermined them with the Anti-White Immigration Act of 1965.

  Wesley Reynolds was interested in re-establishing white Christian rule over the entire North American continent by removing all non-whites including blacks, Hispanics, Jews, and other Satan spawned subversive races. The night before, the leaders of Jesus Town's White Aryan Councils of Christ preached long into the evening hours inside their spiritual tent, telling everyone who would listen that, "The laws of God and Jesus are the laws of White supremacy. We are admonished in the Bible itself to keep our race safe and sound, and by that God meant not to commit the sin of adultery which is the sin of adulterating our racial heritage. God didn't want us to marry niggers and spics who are Satan's children. Those inferior races were born from the rape of Eve by the Devil at the beginning of the world, people who we must hang in the name of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, lest we be damned by him for not following his will and avenging Eve's rape!"

  "We shall find them, brother," Wesley said. "And you and I are going to marry the mother and the daughter ourselves! I don't care who gets the old lady, but she might still be genetically prod
uctive for the right man living in Jesus Town."

  Bill smiled. He was already sexually excited just thinking about it, and he'd gladly have either of them for his new clan.

  "I'll protect them, Wesley. You can be sure of that!"

  "I know it, my brother. And I can't believe that the lord would allow us to go through life without a white woman in which to plant our seed into the New World. So, I know we are going to find them."

  A few hours later, they smelled what was left of a campfire which then led them off the road onto a lumpy dirt lumber trail which soon brought them to the very car that the white family they now hunted had forced them to fill at their own filling station.

  Wesley looked inside both tents. One was a man's tent, and the other was for women. He pointed to the men's tent and whispered, "I'll take that one. You take the women’s tent. Make sure not one of them escapes."

  Wesley tore open the men's tent and turned on his flashlight, yelling, "Not one move or I'll kill you all!" The three males used their hands to fend off the blinding light in his hand. Soon, they were secured with plastic tie-offs and herded into the trunks of both of their cars which were slammed shut on them.

  Wesley and Billie disassembled their base camp and tossed the guns and equipment into the trunk of a friend's car. Then, they proceeded down the road with the women, radioing Jesus Town that they had accomplished their part of the white church's mission.

  "I got all six of them," Wesley said. The men are secured in my trunk, and I'm proceeding back to the town to jail them."

  "Ten four, good buddy. I read that. Come on home."

  "On the way."

  "Any breeders?"

  "Three. I got dibs on all them, but my brother gets one of them. There's an old lady also. She can still be a producer for the white cause. All she needs is the proper man to sire her children with her."