Showered again and freshly shaven by lamplight, which is hard and you really have to get used to it, I wandered around the common room finding Michael, Pete and Wayne near the front talking in low tones. I moved in their direction. Bridget headed me off wrapping herself around my back her arms tight and hugged me. I soothed her and shooed her off to get something to eat with the others. They had the small table set up with Sandy distributing bowls of oatmeal and I grabbed mine on my way over to the men. I had stocked a lot of oatmeal. Did I mention that?
Michael smiled at me as I approached but I could tell he was tired. Wayne also. Wayne spoke up. "We had three more alarms last night and one just a few minutes ago. The first three alarms were zombies. The fourth we don't know yet. The driveway sensors tripped and the front door within a minute of each other. I glanced at the panel screwed to the concrete block wall two lights were blinking. They hadn't reset it yet.” I nodded. I took charge. Frankly, I didn't trust anyone else.
"Okay here's the plan. Wayne and I will go out there through the back. We'll circle around and stay low while seeing what's up. Michael, you and Pete gear up with us and be prepared for backup. Now listen and this is really damn important. Do I have all of your attentions?" I said and waited. They all nodded.
"I hate to say this but we are expendable, the kids won't be jeopardized. Sorry Wayne." I remarked in an offhand way. He shrugged and smiled. I could see he was in unspoken agreement. "I'll take one of the 2-way radios with me and you'll have the other Pete." I had grabbed them from their charging cradle by the door and switched them both to channel one before handing Pete his radio.
"Give us five minutes and then open the front door here, leading to the basement. Do not leave the tunnel." The tunnel was twenty-feet long and ended at my basement and the hidden panel there. "Do NOT go into the basement. Do NOT. If we need you, we'll give a shout on the radio. IF we think, the odds are in our favor that is. If you hear us radio you come running but be careful and assume those things are in the house. If you don't hear us, but instead a bunch of gunfire then you'll know were trying to lead them off. Don't worry about us. Well I hope you do of course but seriously. Stay put! The kids are our future. Don't let my family die by doing something really stupid." I reached out and gripped Michael by the front of his shirt staring into his eyes. He nodded. "Okay, let's gear up."
I got dressed quickly. We were still washing dirty clothes with the washer and dryer in the house while the power had been on so the clothes I threw on were clean. Now that the power was off things were a bit different. The generator I had running didn't give off the juice needed to run a load that heavy along with everything else. We'd figure something out once we ran out of clean clothes or just stay dirty for now. Dirty was better than dead. I finished dressing. The weight of my weapons was reassuring. I hadn't had time to clean my .40 but it had gone a day or three without a cleaning before. Beretta makes a tough son of a bitch gun. I left my AR's with Michael and Pete, grabbed my Mossberg shotgun and strung two bandoliers of shells across my chest. I figured I looked like a Mexican Bandito. This would be semi-close quarters or at least an approximation of it and I had always believed in the right gun for the right job.
We quietly went out the back. Bridget was almost frantic at my leaving. Obviously, she had attached herself to me physically and mentally. I grinned down at her telling her not to worry. I did not intend to get hurt. Thank God, Sandy was there to calm her down. They held each other as we left while Momma Jean and Maria stayed with the kids. They were worried but Momma Jean had experience. Her man would be back when he was back.
The back entrance was at the slump pond as I had mentioned before. The storm drainage for the retreat I had converted into a small pond and stocked with bass and perch. They didn't eat each other much and we were hidden by fifty feet of dense hardwoods. Off in the distance, I could hear the faint boom of that large rifle again as the suns morning rays lit the landscape around me. We circled around the house through the woods and came in from the south side. From there I could see a vehicle pulled up in the driveway next to our three. It was an old beat up Dodge pickup. I recognized it instantly.
I motioned for Wayne to cover me. Damn. I really need to go over more common tactical hand motions with everyone but he got the idea and followed as I slowly eased out of the wood line, my shotgun pointing downward but still very ready to be put into action. As I cleared the brush, I saw a lot of rifles and shotguns pointing up from the windows and bed of the old truck along with rusty pitchforks and more than a few machetes. A picture straight out of the papers reminisce of the drug wars down in Central America, although most of the people I now saw sitting and standing in the back were kids who didn't look older than eight. The driver's door opened when they saw us and a man stepped out.
"Miguel!" I shouted. "Buenos Dias. Como estas!" My Spanish was limited. I had meant to change that, as some of them Mexican chicks I'd seen around town were babes from hell but hadn't gotten around to it yet. He looked fine but worried and scared. He suddenly smiled tiredly. "Why are you speaking Spanish, Jay?" He inquired.
"I have no idea buddy. What's up?" I replied looking sheepish. I saw the passenger door open and another man I vaguely recognized as being his cousin step out, a rifle in his hands. Looked like a Winchester .30-30, and he held it respectfully high. That's what I liked about Miguel and his kin. They are strong hard working people and showed respect where respect was due but didn't take shit from anyone. Like my ancestors, I was sure. He wasn't looking at me directly but was scanning the surrounding tree line and woods. Watchful and prepared. I liked him even better already.
Miguel spread his hands. "My family is in your hands, Jay." He replied. Totally and I mean totally dead serious. "We barely made it here. Out of three trucks only we made it." His face was dirty with a smear of blood and I could now make out the lighter tracks tears had left, as I got closer. I slung my Mossberg and with open arms reached out hugged him tightly. Rosita his wife got out of the cab behind him and hugged us both. They cried. I knew he had lost family. Close family. Seeing all the kids in the back, I was sure they had two outriggers or sentry trucks with guards to protect the main families’ children and it was those trucks that were lost. Probably two to four people or parents in each. A guess but I knew the Spanish race. They’re just like us. It's what I would have done. I loved this man.
I told Wayne to give the all clear to the rest down below, handing him my radio. I hadn't let go of Miguel and he hadn't let go of me. No, we aren't gay. It was just brotherly sorrow and camaraderie. The Spanish are a hugging race in general. Me too. They touch constantly. Me too. They are dedicated to those they respect and love. Me too. The list is endless. I motioned everyone to get out and led Miguel to the house. The front door was open. He knew where my key was. We sat on the steps and he dried his tears on a grubby sleeve composing himself.
I had counted twenty-two of them left. Sixteen kids and four adults, well maybe seven. One of the kids looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age. A strong looking young boy that stood upright with a determined look on his face. The other two adults were Miguel's cousin Juan and Maria his wife. Two Maria's now, that'll be interesting. I had no clue whose kids were whose. I had a slight sinking feeling that I had just lost my room down below. Behind us, I could hear everyone coming out. Even the kids. So much for operational security. Damn it to hell I was going to chew Michael’s ass over this but later. I quickly instructed Michael to keep an eye on them and not let them off the wraparound porch. In fact, I instructed all the adults with firearms to keep an eye on the kids and the tree line. I turned to Miguel.
"Brother I understand. My sympathies. Tell me what happened."
Slowly the story came out. They lived on the south side of town just north of me in Newaygo's ‘Mexicanville’ as some referred to it, composed of four half-mile streets of mobile homes and shacks. The police used to patrol it heavily until it became obvious most of the very limited amount of crime i
n the city was caused by teens from other more affluent areas of town. Mexicanville mostly policed itself and I had no issues with that.
Mexicanville was now wiped out. Gone! Several hundred of the undead had come through and ravaged the neighborhood, which was in chaos anyways. Mexicans are somewhat followers. If the government tells them to get a flu shot, most will. So most were already dead or turned. Miguel and his family were exceptions, but he was an ex-Federale. In his youth, he had fought in some of the toughest gang wars imaginable and survived. He also knew how crooked governments could be. He trusted few people. I was proud to be among those few. After three days of holding them off and losing more and more people, they had loaded up everyone that was left alive and headed out. All the kids in his truck with its extra large bed and extended king cab. It was a monster of a vehicle. His brother and uncle and their wives with a neighbor in one other truck and five neighbors in the second. The others didn't make it. They had given their lives so the families, their children, could survive and many of these were now orphans. What the hell? It was human and how people should be, protecting the innocent. They had nowhere to go. Zombies were everywhere. They had left in the early morning before light. Evidently, the zombies moved slower in the biting cold. I nodded and made a decision.
"Well obviously you’re staying with us Miguel." He smiled with gratitude. He had been half-scared I would send him and his away. Foolish man. I thought he knew me better than that. I sighed. "Well were not going to all fit in the retreat unless we sleep on top of each other. We could but it would be cramped as I said." I nodded to myself. Time to open it up and get started. "Open it up guys we're staying up top." There were cheers all around, especially from the kids.
I stood up and dusted myself off. Miguel followed. He turned to me. "My brother." he said. Now that I had taken his family as mine and assumed responsibility for them, I and mine were automatically part of the extended family. It's how the good ones are. I wouldn't have it any other way. He pulled Rosita to him and together they hugged me tighter. "My life and my honor and my family are in your debt." He added dead serious and I mean serious with a capital ‘S’. I was the head of the family but I needed to put this in perspective just in case he tried that Eskimo wife swapping thing. I reached out and hugged them again in return. Him and Rosita. I turned in their embrace and spotted Bridget. "Bridget! Get over here!" I hollered. She came running with a bright smile on her face.
"Miguel, Rosita, meet Bridget. Maybe you know her already." They nodded. She was beside me now and my hand reached back and swung forward swatting that firm ass in those tight jeans, then I reached around and hugged her to me with my right hand cupping her right breast possessively. "My woman. She takes care of me." Bridget had melded herself to me. Obviously, it was more than an act. She was really getting possessive and had no issues with being my woman. The possessiveness was okay for now but mainly; I didn't want was a tiny skinny old Mexican fireball of a wife getting any ideas. I loved Rosita but she had temper issues. She smiled at them while talking in Spanish. They instantly had this 3-way Spanish-speaking thing going on until I called a halt to it. I lifted my head and started hollering. We had more than enough people for what I had planned. I needed to get that front gate fortified and maybe the fence around my property. Then we would plan our move. Michael and I had been thinking about this for days and had war-gamed it over many a late night beer fest after a day's shooting. Our little colony was growing fast and I knew there were more survivors out there. Probably a lot more. They needed saving before they did something stupid out of starvation and became zombie fodder. I still needed more people but I'd get Michael on the planning immediately. I started hollering louder.
*****
DAY 4: 0730 ET
Jason's eyes opened in the pre dawn, the only thing exposed in his mummy sleeping bag. For almost three days now, he had been killing the undead creatures that had ripped his family from his life. It had become a ritual. Wake, eat a little, and kill all day long and into the night, sleep. He had long ago used the last of his ammunition but had found plenty in the caliber he needed at Parsley's Gun Shop downtown. The town appeared dead but it wasn't. The demons were everywhere, standing motionless just waiting. When they saw you, they moved. The trick was not to let them see you. He also saw a few survivors. There were more than he thought there would be. They were hiding for good reason. The undead creatures were starting to multiply around town and were walking in from the north and south. He wondered if everyone was dead in White Cloud and Grand Rapids. All the ready meals consumed and now they were after take-out.
He slipped out of his bag and with deft motions rolled it up, tying it to the top of his pack. He hefted his rifle slinging it over his shoulder and carefully climbed down the tree. He slept in the trees. As far as he knew, they couldn't climb objects like trees. He had seen a couple slowly climbing ladders but that was it. Those he took care of right then and there. Something unnatural about a smart dead creature, or a clever one.
They came in all sizes, colors, genders and state of disrepair. Some crawled missing both legs and an arm. Some almost ran with everything still attached but still obviously not alive. He quietly walked through the woods to the edge of the embankment just outside town where the cell tower lay. Methodically, as the dawn was rising he climbed the tall pillar of shining metal and wire finding his old spot between the two solar panels. Spreading his tarp out, he laid down at the peak, arranging his magazines before him. He had six 10-round magazines arranged neatly and many more twenty round boxes of ammunition along with bottled water and a can of beans in the satchel slung across his back. He slipped that off setting it beside him. The top of the cell tower made a natural shooting platform. It was just the right size. He slipped the first of six magazines into his rifle and chambered a round. He sighted in on the undead group around that home with the ‘HELP’ sign painted on the roof. At roughly nine-hundred yards, it was at the edge of what he considered easy. He figured he might as well help thin out the undead population in case this Jay decided to rescue them. It was going to be an exciting day of reaping undead souls for the Lord. He liked the sound of that. The Lord’s Reaper. The sun broke the Horizon. The Lords glory shown down from the heavens as he started firing
*****
DAY 4: 0830 ET
Zeke had the roof chore again. For a chore it was. Sitting in a cramped space rotating a mirror back and forth for hours in almost freezing temperatures was not fun. He had gotten so stiff he had to ease back into the attic and stretch out several times the afternoon before. This time he had thought to bring a blanket. The sun was behind him so nothing to really flash at the woods but he started rotating the small mirror anyways. He was scared. He figured they were going to die but he hoped not. Diane and he had barely made it to Sam's house. They had been cruising around the neighborhood smoking a joint, delaying when he had to return her home. Her parents thought she was getting her flu shot. His too. They weren't. They'd had sex down by the river, parked in the woods, then came back into town later that afternoon and were delaying the inevitable when he noticed strange people coming out into the streets. Just walking right in front of his car.
He had freaked out and run over two mailboxes before Diane's screams brought him back to reality. Her hand was on his trying to straighten out the car before they hit something worse while screaming at him to stop. He barely brought the car to a sliding stop before hitting a tree beside the road. Those strange people had then approached them. At the time, Zeke didn't know they were undead. Just that they were walking weird and really bloody. All of them. He got out apologizing and one of them came after him. Chased him completely around his dad’s car with Diane got out screaming for him to get back inside and lock the doors. He was totally fried on the weed but actually came to his senses when they started chasing after his girl. He didn't remember much after that. The terrific buzz scrambling his short term memory but he did remember them running between houses being chased by the
undead until they came to Sam and Dorothy's house. Sam had ordered him and Diane in the house then killed the two creatures following them with an axe. Talk about bloody nightmares. It was too gross. Then they listened to the radio with the other survivors down in the basement and he came to realize skipping the flu shot might have been the best thing they could have done. So he was happy to help Sam if it would save his Diane. He had his doubts though. He just wanted everything to go back to normal, get a job, and marry Diane and maybe have a little Zeke. That would be cool.
Someone was shooting out there. He heard the deep booms every time the rifle fired but couldn't see who was firing or what they were shooting at. Slowly he rotated the mirror doing his best to catch some of the brightening sky and redirect it to the woods. This Jay guy must be some sombitch for Sam to go to all this trouble, Zeke thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Well, move quicker than the other zombies were moving. But it was a zombie he saw as his eyes flickered over it, catching the form as it fell. Falling? Were they suddenly dying? Would everything be okay now? Suddenly another near the first fell over. A few seconds later, he heard the boom.
He waited. Another fell. Another boom. Holy shit he needed to let Sam know. He jerked on the string they had set up to communicate. One jerk meant I'm bored. Two jerks meant, is my replacement on his/her way up. Three jerks meant come NOW! He kept jerking without stop. Within a minute, Sam was there, terror written all over his face.
"Boy what's up. Are they attacking the house?" Sam's wild eyes looked at him as he came breathless to the cupola.
Blood, Brains and Bullets Page 13