Yeah I was getting cocky. Damn things were easier to kill than I imagined. Or maybe I was just lucky. I preferred to believe for the moment that I was all that. The epitome of a fighting machine extraordinaire. Of course, the adrenaline rushing through me helped. Two more came around the corner at that time. Holy shit I was standing there gloating.
Now Michael is a big man. Not fat exactly. But def two-hundred-sixty pounds of muscle and fat. He rushed in without hesitation and took them bastards down. With my second machete in his hands, he pretty much just cut them up into pieces. Leg off the first. Both arms off the second. Then back to the first to get an arm then the head. Then the second to get a leg then the head. He was all over the place. I was proud of him. He was so strong the blade just sheered through muscle and thick bone without slowing. Amazing. I really needed to get him another machete. I was betting he'd be hell on wheels with two. For the second time that day, I smiled.
Pete had seen us and the back door was opening carefully. Too slowly. Michael and I rushed in quickly pushing him back and I eased the door closed.
"Let's go now!" I said.
"Wait we have to gather our things."
"No you don't. What's more important? Your family and safety or dying with your stuff." I saw Sandy peek around the corner of the hallway into the back foyer where we stood and seeing me rushed straight into my arms hugging me hard. Yay. Full body hug too. I really live for the small pleasures life brings you.
"Jay, you’re here. I knew you would be. I told Pete over and over Jay would be coming," she whispered. I saw two little heads poking around the corner of the hallway.
"Hush and get the kids babe we have to leave now."
"They’re coming around the corner." Michael the lookout was peering through the curtains of the door window.
"Now!" I said urgently. "Drop everything we have to go!" Pete nodded their kids coming into view lugging their guns. Good kids.
"Go Michael. Run to the next house behind this one and to the right. I'll cover from the rear. Nobody fall. Just run like fucking hell."
We ran. We ran fast. Nobody stumbled and we made it but we had over a dozen following us. Now they were really starting to piss me off. I could also see the disadvantage of leading a group. I wanted to fight and kill the bastards instead of playing guard and keeping the group safe. I sprinted around the corner of the house to the east of the one behind Pete's home. Yeah we were headed back to my place but doing that whole half circle thing to lead them off.
"Head out Michael. Take them the way we came. The next street should be clear. But won't be when I open up. I'm going to improve the odds a bit for us. I laid down splaying my legs out in a classic rifleman's prone position. It's classic because it works great. That simple. My elbow dug into the almost frozen ground wrist tilted back with two wraps of the sling around it holding both wrist and rifle as one. "Go." I breathed and started firing. Now I'm a really good shot if I must admit. There are those that can shoot and there are those that cannot. Then there are those that are marginal after a lot of training. This is a truism I discovered in the USMC. I'm good. I almost made the West Coast Rifle Team in my time served. Almost. But coming in 9th place out of over thirty-thousand Marines is still pretty damn good. It was paying off.
I was in the zone. Headshots most. I felt my AR buck against my shoulder lightly again and again. I lost count of time. It was only seconds or possibly a minute or two but I was taking them down. The dozen were gone and probably two dozen took their place. They were soon down also as I continued to fire. I now had some coming from the east. Well that was okay by me. Now I understood the theory of spray and pray you hit. Vietnam was a good example. Hit the brush with fifteen-thousand rounds and hope like hell you kill eight jungle bunnies. I get it. Different times different methods. I'm a bit more precise though, having gone through USMC sniper school. Now, that doesn't mean I only fire one round a minute. Hell no. I was firing multiple times a second here and there. A semi-automatic AR15 doesn't mean you can't fire fast. I can fire that bastard almost as fast as a fully automatic M16. And the A2's. Just don't get me started, okay? I hated those three round burst bastards. I hit what I shoot. I don't waste ammo except occasionally and usually only for a reason. Like dropping two in the chest to slow them down for enough time for a headshot. But coming straight in gave me a lot of quality headshots. I was using the semi approved swing technique of a slight rotational swing and fire just before the sites lined up. This is a very effective way of dropping them on the run. Just an FYI.
I had to change magazines frequently. I just shoved them in the right cargo pocket of my camouflage pants and kept shooting. I had cleared out a pretty wide area around me but more were coming from the distance. Those saw me too so I took off fast ducking around the house I was hiding against. I sprinted straight across the street seeing no one. Then I saw my comrades in the distance and heard them open up firing. Jesus on a crutch. A lot of zombies. Too cool. I threw myself down and opened up too. Fresh magazine with thirty. I was good to go and fifty yards aint shit with an AR. Christ, I can thread a needle at that range. It's really impossible to miss at less than a hundred yards. You really have to concentrate hard to do that. Well, for those that can actually shoot that is.
I didn't miss. I shot all around my friends dropping the bastards fast. Like fish in a barrel. A sudden déjà vu struck me. I had read so many books. People dying. People using a ton of ammunition to kill a few. Why can't people simply zone in and just kill the bastards. Don't know. But I was a Marine, and fuck everyone else. I ran up to them crouching and aiming, then firing off two shots dropping two zombies.
"Go, go, go, go!" I hollered. Okay, the lurching sometimes threw me off but most of my shots were dead on. It's not like you can lurch very far from a round traveling at three thousand seven hundred feet per second and I was using the swing technique. Maybe an inch or two? Anyways, my friends ran. I followed and took the bastards down. Wow. I was actually having a blast. I started out scared but now honestly, if it weren't for my kids and my limited supply of ammunition I would stay out here for a while just playing. I made a mental note to give shooting lessons to any zombie book authors I found still alive. I grinned inwardly at my own wit.
We made it back to my property and in the process scooped up Maria and her three kids. They were waiting and scared shitless. I gave her the once over, then the twice over. Okay, in a pinch she would do, otherwise no. The extreme lack of tits and a wide bottom but not excessively wide, just refused to do it for me. What is it with most women these days and that whole ‘five months pregnant fat’ thing look they have going on? Jesus. In instant hindsight, I actually felt that might be a good thing. They could live off themselves for a few weeks until we got around to rescuing them. See. God works in mysterious ways. I'm such an asshole. Yeah, I know.
We headed in and Michael, Pete and I helped everyone over the fence. It was a standard cattle fence of rectangular heavy gauge wire mesh. I thought we were clear. I had killed, no clue how many zombies, and there were still way too many out there. I was down to two magazines though. Actually one and a half. Time to stop screwing around. I led them on a western trail. I didn't want to head straight in. I also wanted a look at the Wesco. I was drooling over that two thousand five hundred gallon propane tank they had. We could really use it. Maybe I could drag it across the road with my tractor. I'd worry about that later.
We hit the corner of my property and I got a good look of the surrounding area. I did a double take when I looked at the Wesco and could only stare. What the hell? Sure, there were eight or ten zombies milling around the parking lot looking def out of place and a few cars, but out of the center of the building near the back, I saw a bright shiny pole sticking up out of an air conditioning duct and on the end? A white bra. Slowly waving back and forth. Survivors!
I was suddenly horny as hell. Don't ask me why. Okay, go ahead and ask but understand, I'm a guy. I had been living on adrenaline for the last two hours o
r more and I was exhausted. But. First, it had been awhile since I'd had sex. Second, this Wesco had the best-looking babes in the area. I was tired but I wasn't dead yet. My mind was suddenly ultra focused on the babes that worked there and the possibility some might need rescuing. I simply couldn't help myself I swear. I handed my Rifle to Pete and loosened my Beretta in its holster. Pete only had a Ruger 10/22 in .22 cal. and his 9mm Beretta. I figured if I had to do any fighting inside the store the AR would just get in my way. I'm strange that way. Many people love shotguns and rifles. They think they’re the end all and know all to everything tactical. My thought was if you’re any good at all with guns you’re much better off with a pistol instead of a long gun in tight situations. I told them my plan. Well not the plan on saving some pussy so I could get laid but the cover plan that I would get any survivors out of Wesco and meet them back at the retreat. They knew the way to the back entrance. Michael sure did and Pete had been there a few times. Michael had severe reservations but I overrode them. Get these people to safety. I would be fine. If it got too busy, I would simply head back. Then I ran as if my ass was on fire across the Highway to Wesco. I didn't look back.
A few cars littered the parking lot as I said, and a whole bunch of bodies. It wasn't pretty. I shot the four zombies outside the left entrance with clean headshots after wasting a few center body. Then ran around back circling the building while taking down four more. For some reason they had found the propane shed really interesting even with an open door and no one inside. There was another shed with an emergency generator running. Probably fed off the propane tank but I wasn't sure. Moving slowly around the right side or north to you guys, I spotted two more and took them down with a few shots. Seriously, it's hard to miss with my .40 at this range. I'm not all that like Superman. I can simply shoot straight. On this side, I saw the entranceway was partially open. No power to the doors obviously. I moved closer. Damn noise. Obviously, my shots had attracted attention even with the generator running. Three more of the zombie fuckers came around the back far corner. They immediately focused on yours truly. Fresh 100% Grade A human prime cut meat, just waiting to be ate. God they moved fast. I freaked. I guess they were too far into my comfort zone and all my training went bye-bye. Before I knew it, I had emptied the clip putting two or three rounds in each chest then finally remembering the headshot for all. I switched mags. I saw movement. Another coming around the opposite corner. Two shots. Down. I breathed deeply and tried to calm myself. I turned and could see movement inside. Here we go.
*****
Well you already know what happened from this point on. We made it back of course.
*****
Sam watched with fascination as he saw the pitched battle to the west of his home. That had to be Jay. At that distance, his binoculars weren't strong enough to really get in close. Heck it was almost five hundred yards away. He was able to zoom in close enough to see the general characteristics of the man taking down all the undead and guiding that small group to safety. Then he saw them cross the fence onto Jay's property. Well that cinched it. So, Jay was rescuing people. Thank God.
Sam and Dorothy knew Jay from the Sportsman's Club. While Sam wasn't a competition shooter, he did enjoy the new trap shoot they had set up. It kept him in practice for pheasant season. He loved hunting, and hunting pheasant most of all. They were a challenge he was good at, so was Jay, he remembered. The one time they both shot together, neither missed a clay. He never could get Jay to do it regular. Jay claimed it was too easy. Watching the fight down below reinforced this. Damn that had been good shooting. He needed to figure out a way to signal Jay. If he fired off three rounds in the internationally recognized signal for help, the creatures would be all over them. So far, they had only survived by being quiet and not being seen. It was getting harder to do that though. The kids down in the basement were going nuts cooped up. He'd talk to Dorothy.
Carefully he climbed down from the attic. Dorothy was in the kitchen quietly preparing a meal for everyone. It wasn't much since there wasn't much left but it would do. Quickly he told her what he saw and how he hoped to signal Jay somehow. Jay was looking like their only hope.
"Any ideas?" he asked his wife.
"Not yet. Does it have to be three shots?"
"Well not exactly. Technically it should be three quick shots then three spaced far apart, then three more quick shots but that's a lot of ammo, so everyone recognizes the three spaced apart shots for help."
"Okay. Does it have to be shots? Could it be a flag or something? Or a sign?"
"Christ Dorothy that's it!" Sam was ecstatic. He could even do one better, use a signal mirror also and they could take turns operating it. He rushed downstairs and was immediately assaulted by the odor of too many people cooped up in too small a place. Currently they were using an upstairs back bedroom to store their waste but it still smelled. He grabbed a half-full can of white paint and a brush from his workbench and a screwdriver. Thinking for a second, he grabbed a leftover bundle of shims for framing and a roll of duct tape.
"Hun. I need your makeup mirror please. The one with the swivel and pedestal."
"Well fine but if this ever ends I want a new one." She joked and for the first time in three days, he saw her smile. She went and got it. A foot high with a wide pedestal base it had an eight-inch mirror you could rotate with the flick of a finger. Perfect.
He grabbed Zeke, an older teen with too much energy and together they climbed back into the attic. Sam had built the cupolas into the roof for aesthetics but he also made them functional. Every fall his gutters filled up with leaves and on a two-story house that meant they were a bitch to clean out. He had solved that by making the cupola windows movable. Oh, they didn't open exactly. The whole frame actually swung outward and you could unhinge it to remove them, allowing easy exit and entry.
Moving very slowly and quietly Sam and Zeke removed the window and Sam crawled out painting a huge HELP on the dark brown roof. It took two coats and over an hour moving very slowly so as not to attract attention but he did it. As an afterthought, he wrote a small 'JAY' in the upper corner above the sign. Then they mounted the mirror on the window frame and shimmed the back of the base to point it towards Jay's place. Now they could rotate it back and forth and Jay should see it flash. Sam knew it wasn't perfect and it might not flash brightly but if it flashed at all, Jay should see it.
He showed Zeke how to signal SOS in Morse code and told him he would be back up with a replacement in two hours. God he hoped this worked. Correction. God he hoped this worked -quickly.
*****
"Stage four is in progress, Sir and proceeding as planned. Twenty percent should be completed by tomorrow with luck." The technician was speaking to the tall lab coated figure again.
"Luck has nothing to do with it young man. Everything is planned out. Science is on our side. No variable has been overlooked."
"Sir. Able is reporting that some Army and National Guard Units are not following their orders."
"All their orders? Or some of them."
The technician paled at his mistake and rapidly corrected himself. "Sir. Some units are disobeying orders on routes and rounding up refugees for the camps." He hoped his mistake would be forgiven.
"What percentage?" The lab coated figure looked down at the technician for the first time frowning.
"About five percent so far, Sir." The elderly but very fit figure nodded at the numbers.
"As we expected. Nothing to be alarmed about but let me know immediately if that figure reaches twenty percent."
"Yes, Sir!"
The tall older man paused on his way out, turned and watched the technician he had been talking too. Hmmm. Not concise information at all. That disorganized way of thinking was a trait they would be weeding out of the human race. He made a mental note to schedule him for surgery and left for his other duties. Lots to check on and a lot going on. It was all coming together. Over two-hundred years of planning was coming to fruition.
*****
Chapter 5
DAY 3: 1330 ET
"Where are we going?" Bridget slurred as she tried ducking an overhanging branch only to get it caught in her hair. With a loud "snap", she broke it off while stumbling against me. Danielle hadn't said a word since I hushed the girls back at Wesco. Well, except for a screech or three getting across the parking lot.
"The back door! And Quiet!" I whispered back. She nodded in that intoxicated exaggerated way and kept walking, well moving forward mostly, but her drunken stumble bouncing her off another tree. I groaned and grabbed her with my left arm and hand, holding her close just so she didn't knock herself out getting to safety. I really didn't want to carry her ass. Guiding two drunken girls through heavy woods and underbrush was a chore. I did notice that my hand cupped around her ribcage was nestled under her full left breast and it's heavy weight was causing a faint stirring within me that even the stench of her odor couldn't stop. I tried to focus on the task-at-hand. Now was not the time to be thinking about that! That chivalrous thought safely behind me I let my hand slide up a bit further, half cupping her breast as I held her tighter against my side negotiating the landscape between trees. I heard a soft intake of breath escape her but she didn't pull away. I tried not to grin, as this was a very serious moment. But in all honesty, her boob made a natural anchor point for gripping her upper body. So I used it. What's the big deal?
Blood, Brains and Bullets Page 10