"Brother, grab your guns. This is it and no joke." He not only looked scared but also like he was about to cry. I noticed he had his bulletproof vest on and was wearing his service automatic and yet I knew he had the day off.
"What?" I was bewildered. What in hell was he talking about?
"Zombies!" He deadpanned. My jaw dropped.
*****
Day 1: 1020 ET
Jean gave the man behind the counter her best frown as he took his time ringing up her purchases. She was ticked off, as you would not believe. If she had not been in a hurry, she would have called the manager of this Wal-Mart to complain. First, he started with the stupid male chauvinistic comments, such as was the ammunition for her husband, and should he be called to verify it was the correct caliber. Then when the clerk found out they were for her, the sexist comments appeared, expressing mock disbelief that she could control the recoil on a .40 automatic. What a loser the clerk was. She may be only 5'3" and barely over a hundred-ten pounds but she was strong. Hard work on the farm did that for a girl. As a little girl, she dragged single bales of hay to help her daddy. Then as a teen, she was lugging two at a time, one with each hand. Barely to be sure, but she was doing it just the same. She narrowed her eyes as she watched the clerk ring up her items.
Then he started with the asinine come on statement about how maybe they should go shooting together sometime so he could give her tips. Tips on what? she thought. How to be a loser? She smiled to herself, eyes lighting up amusement at her own internal wit. The clerk looking up at that moment saw her smile and grimaced sourly working slightly faster, anything to get this woman with her suddenly evil smile and bad attitude away from him. His eyes left her face to fasten again on her chest as he continued sliding her purchases across the infrared bar code reader. Her frown deepened. This was probably the one thing that irritated her most about looks men gave her. He could not seem to take his eyes off her chest. As a solid double d-cup, she was used to stares. However, most had been the flitting glances that just about all men gave her. She was used to it and had no qualms about using her sexuality to further her needs if she had to though she was very meticulous on the men she slept with.
She shrugged. He wasn’t her type anyways. She preferred men slightly older than her thirty-four years and not younger less mature boys. Besides, he was fat. The one thing she really hated in a man besides bad hygiene was that well fed, never done a hard day's work in his life look, and he had soft clammy hands. They had made her skin crawl when he touched her hands to hand her the ammunition. He probably had a small dick too. A girlfriend she used to club with told her once that fat men seemed to have small dicks. Why her girlfriend was screwing fat men Jean would never know nor ask. Many had money though and Deb had been all about that.
She quickly lost her humor remembering the announcements that were all over the radio. After hearing the broadcasts on every radio channel, it had been a spontaneous decision to stop at the Wal-Mart she just happened to be passing by to pick up more ammunition. She had her three-month emergency supply of food at home, along with plenty of batteries, lanterns, and lamp oil. However, she was seriously lacking in ammunition. They were sold out of 4/10 shotgun shells but she was able to get eight boxes each of .40 MagTech Hollow points and American Eagle .22's. Wal-Mart was limiting customers to eight boxes of each caliber and they were selling out fast.
She handed the clerk her Discover Card when the last item was placed in the plastic bag, watching as he swiped it, which completed her purchase then handed it back along with her receipt. She was forced to touch his clammy pudgy digits again as she accepted it and shuddered but tucked both in her purse while grabbing the bag. As she left his counter, the urge could not be resisted. With an extra evil smile at him she turned, her back arched and chest thrust out, and put a little extra sway into her hips as she walked off. She had the boobs and ass for it she knew. Boobs were not the only thing she was known for. She did not look back. Now she felt a little better as she turned the key in the ignition, listening as her old Jeep Wrangler fired up with a soft purr. Her two children Eric and Beverly were waiting for her and momma was on her way.
Turning onto 131 again just north of Kalamazoo, she berated herself for not grabbing a couple gas cans and filling up. She had almost a full tank of gas, but with this bumper-to-bumper traffic she was not sure if even that would be enough to get to her parents in Newaygo. She would get her kids and take everyone back to her house in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Well, her apartment but it was a nice one. She worked her ass off as a teacher, taking on extra jobs when she could to provide a little extra for her kids and their nicer apartment. It was all worth it.
She wished her ex-boyfriend were here with her. She was sure he would have thought of the extra gas before leaving town. That was one of his good qualities. The rest were mostly bad. She really had to stop dating the great looking muscular types. Mostly they turned out to be pieces of shit wearing pants. Don was all that though. Handsome. Muscular. Older. Dressed great! He worked for a major private protection firm that did a lot of work for the government. He was gone a lot though. He was also a piece of shit wearing pants.
He was also great in bed but only when he wanted to be. She had forgotten to mention conceited in his list of faults. She did not find that out at first though. Their last night together had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and she remembered it clearly.
Jean moaned as his weight descended on her, his hands mashing her full breasts, his thighs pushing hers apart. She could feel his hard cock sliding along her belly as his mass lowered itself. Her body ached for him. She was so ready. Her pussy was sopping wet and her fingers dug themselves into the muscles of his shoulders with need. She wanted him and badly. She felt his lips on her neck then her breast. Her hand reached down to grasp his large shaft and guided it to the opening of her vagina.
"Ahhhh!" she panted, as his large cock parted her pussy lips, and smiled down at the top of his head. She really liked it when he sucked on her nipples hard and moved the head of his cock up and down along her slit. She felt his body tense. Oh no. NO! "Ohhh. Oww!" she gasped. He had shoved the whole thing inside her in one push. She was not ready for that much cock at once.
"Oh my God lover, take it easy that hurts! It's too much too fast." She moaned trying to crawl backwards on the bed in an effort to get some of him out of her. The pain was intense and not in a good way either. It felt like he was shoving a spear up into her belly.
"This is how those bitches in Afghanistan take it baby, and they don't bitch about it," he grunted and if anything drove deeper, his hands on her shoulders allowing no escape. His hips mashed into Jean’s thighs driving her legs up against her will. She tried lowering them but could not. Her hands tried to push him away but he was too strong. Jean cried out again, almost fainting. This was not how it was supposed to be after a three-week absence. She didn't care how the women in Afghanistan took it. She only cared about not hurting.
It was soon over. Way soon. Thank God for that anyways. Jean fully felt like she had been raped. Her body was on fire. Red lines indented her skin where his fingernails had clawed her. Her nipples were painfully swollen, and her belly was on fire. He had been like a wild animal and not in a good way. She moaned as she curled into a fetal position when his weight finally rolled off her. This was not a relationship. This was one way. She watched him get dressed through the tears in her eyes. She didn't say anything. She was in shock. Although it had seemed an eternity, it had probably only lasted a few minutes. A new record for fast, she absently thought.
He glanced at her then started putting on his tie in front of her dresser mirror. He was leaving. No snuggling this time obviously. He always snuggled. She did not understand as she watched him.
"Jean." He had finished and was drawing on his wool coat. He stood and turned looking down at her hurting form. "Listen woman, I like you." She had thought he loved her! "But the reality is times are changing," he continued, "
There are things going on you couldn't possibly understand. A new world order is taking place. You will be my woman and I will use you as I see fit. That's how God intended it!" Jean started to growl."Stop that!" he laughed.
"You can take your God intended new world order and go fuck yourself with it. In the ASS!" Jean screamed. She was upset. No. She was hurting in multiple ways, both physically and mentally. This was not Don. This could not be him.
"If I hadn't just cum, I would take the new world order and fuck you in the ass with it. In fact, mark it on your calendar for the next time I come over. I will take that ass and prove it. Just hope I don't bring friends because soon you'll be property." He grinned as he leaned over and kissed her sweat soaked hair then turned and walked away. She heard the front door to her apartment close. Fuck him. She didn't need this shit.
Slowly, Jean crawled off the bed making her way to the bathroom. She lay in the tub as it slowly filled with warm water. Oh my god, her body hurt. Her pussy was on fire. Her lips were swollen and almost translucent from the savage force that had abused them. She cried softly.
Jean shook her head from the memories. It was over, and time to move on. Traffic had slowed to a crawl. She thumped her steering wheel in frustration. At this rate, it would take days to get there. Why was it so busy? She had been seeing less and less traffic as sick people went home and workers left because of the virus. There was some kind of commotion up ahead. She reached in her glove box for her Zeiss binoculars and leaning out the open window peered up ahead. There was a roadblock being set up. She could faintly make out the uniforms of soldiers and large concrete barriers. She slumped back in her seat while grabbing her cell phone to call her dad.
*****
Day 1: 1350 ET
Michael had brought me up to speed on current events. Police chat was saying zombies, and they were killing people. I armed up immediately with my .40 in its usual resting place behind my belt and the shoulder rig with my dual Taurus PT 24/7 OSS Tactical .45's nestled comfortably across my shoulders. I loved those .45's more than my ex-wife that was for sure. Rounding it off for now, I grabbed my Mossberg Model 590 Tactical 12 gauge shotgun. Bastard held nine rounds with one in the chamber and I had it loaded with alternating slugs and 2/0 buckshot. I am a firm believer in being prepared for anything, with the possible exception of a direct meteor strike on my head. Nothing I could do about that scenario and I did not own a weapon I wasn't deadly with.
In addition, I owned quite a few weapons let me tell you, which was another bone of contention between the ex and I. If only she had known exactly how many. A lot of cash had left my hands at many gun shows over the years. Hush now.
Michael had his portable police radio with him and we were listening to the chaos. Things had gone from bad to way worse in practically minutes. People were dying out there. My knuckles were white as they gripped the edge of the table, my form hunched over listening intently. Michael was on the phone with his wife telling her what to grab. Christ, they lived right next door. He could walk over there in three minutes. I shoved him out the door to go help her but kept his radio. He would be back shortly.
I had already made all the calls I needed. First my mom and dad and told them what was up, lock all the doors and to be careful. My dad is well armed. My brother was currently at work but was leaving shortly. My on again and off again girlfriend I could not reach, but I did reach my ex-wife who told me she was okay and still at the hospital. The hospital had police protection and she could not leave yet but would come straight to my place and stay with us until this was over. Well, just as soon as more help arrived that is. She claimed it had been ‘promised’ to them. I passed on her message of hugs and kisses to the kids. Pete and Sandy had closed up the convenience store and were currently locked in their house, safe with their kids. They declined my offer of refuge for now, but if things became worse, they would get down in the basement. If things went from bad to very bad, they would head over. I had plenty of food. Enough for all of our families for maybe a year or two give or take. Being a survivalist was addictive. You can never have too much stuff is the motto.
I settled in and waited for Michael, Becky and their kids. I was growing more scared by the minute. I had the TV set to FOX and the police radio going at the same time. Word was the National Guard was setting up roadblocks on the major transportation arteries to keep people in place. Nothing spread a disease faster than open travel that's for sure. It wouldn’t affect us up here in Newaygo but I had a feeling things had just gone to hell in a hand basket.
Chapter 2
Day 1: 1420 ET
Michael, plus wife Becky, finally arrived with their two sons David and Chas along with a crap load of stuff in a trailer. All the kids were watching a movie now in the playroom with its 32" LCD screen. Yeah, I am a bastard reserving the 60" plasma for myself. I put in The Man from Snowy River for them. It's a great semi classic movie my kids love because of the horses, which they were always trying to get me to buy for them. They had popcorn and Emma her bottle and all were sprawled out on the couch and carpeted floor watching avidly. Thank God for the innocence of children. Too bad it was only temporary.
I felt like I was coming apart. It's one thing to talk and plan for this stuff as a harmless exercise, it's quite another for it to actually happen. Then I remembered my neighbor on the north side. Wayne and Jean Cheney were a nice retired couple and the decent thing would be to check on them. I had seen a couple young kids playing outside earlier today as I drove past on my way back from my morning rounds. I tried calling but no one answered, just a busy signal. I tried again a few minutes later. Still busy.
"Look guys, since you're both here, I'm going to check on the Cheney's real quick. I saw a couple kids out front earlier. I think their grandkids are staying with them, and their phone’s been busy for a while. I want to make sure they're all right," I said, after getting their attention.
"I'll go with you bro," Michael replied starting to get up.
"Oh hell no, you're won't. You're staying here with Becky and our five kids and holding down the fort. I will only be gone ten minutes.” He nodded, and after reluctantly shucking off my shoulder harness and caressing my .45's, like the lover I was one last time, I threw a jacket on and took off out the door at a jog.
It took only a minute to get there at my brisk pace. I knocked on their door. Wayne opened it right away and looked at me with a happy but wary expression. We were great friends after all. He was wearing his usual, jeans and a flannel shirt, with white t-shirt underneath. This time the shirt was un-tucked and I could tell he was worried.
"Hi Wayne!" He nodded. "You hear the news?" He nodded again. I nodded back; quite sure we looked like a couple of bobble head twins. "I just wanted to make sure you and Jean were alright because your phone’s been busy. I also wanted to offer my place as being a bit safer than yours, exposed out here like it is," I continued, for they did live right on the road after all. He sighed and motioned me inside.
"We appreciate it, Jay. We do. We just can't right now and I was probably on the phone with Jean our daughter." He nodded at the small boy and girl playing a video game on the TV. I had seen them earlier. About six and eight would be my guess. "Our daughter Jean is on her way to pick them up and we are going back with her to Fort Wayne." I frowned at that. Daughter Jean? Mother named Jean also. Why in hell did people do that to their daughters? You cannot exactly call them "Junior" for short. In addition, do you call mom big Jean and the other little Jean? Well, big Jean was big but not that big and it would be an insult as would old Jean and young Jean. The whole double naming thing was completely wrong for girls. I shook my head. He had probably mentioned this a dozen times to me, but it was one of those things that you instinctively forget because it makes absolutely no sense.
"Look, Wayne. Word Michael and I are getting is the National Guard is setting up roadblocks on all the main roads. She might not be able to get here. People are getting placed in ‘temporary’ refugee camps."
I replied making the heavy quotation mark emphasis gesture with the fingers of both hands at the mention of 'temporary'.
"Yeah we know. We saw it on the news. She just called though. She has a jeep and is going to try to get off the Highway and work her way here by the back roads." he gave a weak hopeful grin. Personally, I was not holding out much hope for that idea at all. If the National Guard were blocking off major cities and transportation arteries then they would be on the side roads as well. Their officers were not completely stupid. I figured possibly a one in four chance that she would make it, maybe less. When I asked if she knew the back roads to Newaygo. He said she did not. The odds went to one in forty that quick. Maybe even one in four-hundred.
"Okay Wayne, I understand but listen. You're armed right?" he lifted his flannel shirt to reveal an old colt .45 automatic from his Navy days. Wayne was a man after my own heart. "Anything else? I can loan you a long gun if you don't have one." Wayne mentioned a shotgun he had in the bedroom and plenty of buckshot for it. "I really don't feel good about this, Wayne. It's really getting ugly out there." I frowned again. He smiled wearily.
"Jay, it's okay. We will be okay. You know we have the small cabin out back near your place." Damn, I had forgotten about that but kept listening. "Well it has a cellar under it. It used to be a smoke house. Bet you didn't know that. If things get bad, we'll be there. I'm just afraid Jean won't be able to find us if we're at your place."
I thought quickly. "Okay Wayne, but listen to me. Call your daughter right now. Tell her that if she makes it up here and you are not in either place here, to come to mine. Just come in the front door. If it's not broken in, tell her the spare key is under the steps leading up to the deck on a nail in the header below the third step on the right side. She can't miss it. Just walk in. I will know and we will come get her. I also have a cellar, a big one. It's well protected," I finished. He nodded, and as I left, was picking up the house phone. I hoped he reached her. I shagged it back staying in the woods deep enough I would not be seen by anyone on the road. I was startled when a nice little four-point buck and two doe ran across the trail just in front of me. I could almost have reached out and touched them. The deer noticed my presence but just kept running. They were moving fast, really fast.
Blood, Brains and Bullets Page 4