"No. Someone's shooting out there!"
"Shooting? Lots of shooting going on. Try to be more specific Zeke!" Now his eyes were squinting and irritated. It was true they had been hearing shots on and off for the last few days but it wasn't what he meant. Christ he needed a doobie. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"No Sam. Someone's shooting our zombies." There that was better. Maybe not though, as Sam's eyes rolled. Zeke could tell he wasn't communicating as well as he should be. Damn, he really needed that joint. If he smoked one, he'd be able to think clearer. Pot made you smarter.
"Our Zombies? Our pet zombies’ maybe? Kid!" He could see Sam's blood pressure was going up fast and tried to collect himself. Jesus why didn't his mind work right.
"Noooo. Someone is shooting the zombies around your house. Down there." He pointed.
Sam slid up next to Zeke and peered out the window following Zeke's finger. Sure enough another zombie fell, its head erupting like a watermelon hitting the pavement, a second later a deep boom sounded. Sam jerked back in.
"Jay. It's gotta be Jay. That's good shooting." Another Zombie fell. Sam started counting. "About a thousand feet, give or take. Damn good shooting."
"What does that mean are we being rescued?"
"I don't know kid. Let's wait and see. Better hope so because we're out of food."
They sat there for an hour watching zombies fall all around them. There were a lot less now. In fact, most of the undead had truly died, between where they were and the woods. It had to be this Jay, thought Zeke. They kept watching and zombies kept falling around them.
*****
The Reaper paused looking down at what was left of the ammunition he'd carried to the top of the cell tower. His shoulder had gone numb quite a while ago but he never stopped. He was down to a little over a hundred rounds. He'd have to climb down soon to get more. He lifted his rifle peering through his scope at the house with the help sign. Most of the zombies around it were reaped for the Lord. Waiting in line for judgment day along with the others he had recently sent there. He felt no emotion other than satisfaction at having started on the Lord’s quest. If he could help others during that process, he decided he would.
He shifted position slightly fixing his sights down Highway 37 to the south. Not good. Quite a few large groups of the undead were slowly moving north up the road. Well he'd cleared out most of them right here and now. Where was this fella to the rescue? Maybe he needed incentive. He rolled back then over again to his other side. The north. He saw people moving by the fence posts. What were they doing? He dialed in the magnification on his scope to its maximum setting. Stringing barbed wire across the tops of the fence posts. OKAY. And what did that do for the undead coming in on the sides he had no idea as they had only strung down six or seven posts from the front. Carefully sighting in on the post just east of the south corner, he squeezed off a shot.
*****
DAY 4: 1000 ET
Miguel was helping Juan fasten the double strand of barbed wire on the end post. It only took the men they now had a couple hours to accomplish the stringing. They knew it wouldn't keep the zombies out. It was only to slow them down from the front and hook the bastards if they were attacked. By catching them, they could be dispatched with a spear, axe or machete thus conserving ammunition for when it was most needed.
"Ping!" Both men jerked at the sound of taut wire parting mere yards from where they worked. Then the distant boom of a rifle shot followed a split second later.
"What the hell?" exclaimed Miguel looking down the southern property line to the east seeing the parted ends of the top strand of wire they had just fastened. It had curled backwards and was waving in the light breeze like two lightweight springs.
"Ping!" another strand parted three posts down, similarly followed by a distant boom. Miguel grabbed Juan by the collar yanking him down behind the closest tree. Silence resulted. Several minutes went by.
"I think someone's shooting at us Cousin, or near us. Be careful." Juan nodded and Miguel peeked around the corner. Nothing. He slowly moved from around the tree standing sideways to present a smaller profile just in case someone was indeed shooting at them. Nothing. He approached the second strand of parted wire and fingered the split end. Fantastic shooting he thought.
"Thunk!" an explosion of dirt erupted further down the tree line but closer to the houses about thirty yards away. Okay, Miguel thought. Whoever it was wasn't shooting at us because that shot sucked. As he looked at the fresh divot of half-frozen spray of dirt, another erupted fifty-feet further away up near the houses in a straight line from the second fence post shot. His eyes traveled upward slightly and it hit him.
"Por supuesto!” He exclaimed. Of course. The straight line led, if you looked up a tiny bit, to a distant house where on its dark roof white letters spelled ‘HELP’. He instantly understood. Turning he waved in the direction of gunfire then pointed at the house. He saw a very tiny figure stand up on top of the local cell tower and wave back before disappearing. Well he'd better tell Jay.
*****
The Reaper smiled. His ploy had worked. The two men of Spanish descent were waving at him and pointing at the house in trouble. He rose and waved back before laying down again. He still had almost a hundred rounds to finish before he had to climb back down for more. He got to work.
*****
"What?" Jay looked up in surprise at the news Miguel brought. A few things were certain. They had a world-class sniper shooting zombies while spotting survivors for them, and they had just gotten a lot busier. A few refugees had wandered in while we were working. Eleven of them. Three men with women and children. My understanding is only two of the guys were spouses or boyfriends. And of course, we made noise. Not a lot but enough to attract those refugees in hiding nearby, and of course a few dozen zombies or so came along with them. The zombies I had dispatched with crossbows. I had finally broken out my two Barnett crossbows along with a score of graphite arrows and was letting the women take down the zombies for us while the men did the dirty strenuous work of stringing temporary wire. That's not chauvinism, it's practicality. Stringing barbed wire is really hard work. I think most of the women were seeking vengeance for the loss of their husbands, boyfriends and other loved ones. I figured it was good therapy. Happy to help. Yeah I'd lose a few arrows but they weren't missing all that much and the savage delight that lit their faces when they hit one was priceless.
"Señor Jay. It is a sign for help from survivors." Miguel repeated. I waved him off before he could repeat himself a second time and thought for a second. I questioned Miguel further. He described the house and the surrounding neighborhood as best he could remember. What struck me was the damn copper rooster Miguel had seen on the front peek. Like the kind you only see on barns. Only one person I knew had something that ridicules on their house and it made sense.
"Alrighty, we have to go get them. Miguel get Michael for me please and have one of the women run down to the armory in the retreat and get the black plastic case with the red stripes on it. I'll need it." There was really no question of what to do. Go get them and soon. No brainer.
"Si Señor Jay." he ran off. Michael ran up.
"Dude. Grab four guys; take two of the new ones. I don't care who. The best close range shots. We have survivors behind us and were going to get them. Grab my SUV and load up." He nodded running off waving his arms. Actually, he's much more attractive when he runs than his wife is. God! I hoped that was a 'one time' thought. I turned to Miguel.
"Get your boys and girls together, whoever can shoot straight. We're in the rescue business. And get your truck." He nodded running off hollering in Spanish. Man I so needed to learn that language. I wanted SUV's or tall trucks. Regular trucks are fairly low to the ground and I had a feeling that had led to the demise of Miguel's kinfolk and friends. I had a plan to eliminate that problem but we didn't have the right equipment yet.
One of the young girls from Miguel's crew ran up with my rifl
e case. I thanked her and shooed her off. She smiled at me from under an old camouflage hat and baggy sweats that had seen better days, her white teeth brilliant in the morning sunlight. I hoped the toothpaste didn't run out anytime soon. I'd hate to see that perfect smile deteriorate. Well I did have about ten pounds of baking soda but trust me it wasn't the same. I had a plan for that also though. Later.
Moving quickly I gathered everyone up. The women had eliminated most of the close zombies, so I felt fairly comfortable taking most of the men with us. I left Wayne, Pete and one of the new guys along with several women who claimed they could shoot to hold down the fort while we were gone. The plan was simple. Go out the front gate. Turn left. First road turn left again. Drive to the cul-de-sac at the end. Second house on the left. Had to be Sam's place. I used to joke that I could hit his damn rooster from the corner of my property. There was a clear line of site to it. That was my plan. I told them to give me five minutes to get in position, then I beat feet through my property heading to the southeast corner. Of course, I had my pistols and my machete but I had also had my baby. A sweet little AR-15 HBAR with a 3.5x10x50mm Leopold scope. I had trued it out to seven-hundred yards but was currently sited in at two-hundred. No problem. One-half MOA per gradient line on the scope would adjust for that. Sam's place wasn't more than six-hundred yards away if that. I had six full 30 round clips in the case with match grade ammunition. Those I stuffed in my cargo pockets.
Reaching the back corner, I looked around, spotted a nice thick pine, and rapidly climbed it. I didn't have many pines on the property but the ones I do have are huge. About thirty-five feet up should do it. I climbed. Well, maybe a little closer to forty feet. I had to get above the larger boughs to give myself some sight clearance. I settled in, sitting comfortably between two larger branches and wrapped the sling twice around my wrist while I waited for the truck to appear. Well they were definitely taking longer than five minutes. What the hell? I lifted my binoculars looking for them. No luck yet. I moved the binoculars slightly sighting in on our neighborhood cell tower where Miguel said he saw someone wave. Whoa. A brown clad figure was looking back at me with his own binoculars. Our sniper I figured. I thought and nodded to myself. Holding up one arm in an exaggerated motion I pointed at him then arched it over with my fist just above my head then pointed to the left of Sam's place. Then held my hand up again and made a short-cupped wave to my right. I then pointed at myself and with the same arm motion as before ending it with my hand cupping to the left. I waited. He nodded instantly. Good man. He would cover the right of their retreat and I the left. I turned back as I heard then saw Miguel's truck barreling down the road with my SUV close behind it. They had to swerve around a couple live zombies and a bunch of dead ones but it was obvious our friend had been very busy. Dead bodies lay everywhere. Almost all with headshots. Whoot. I was getting in the mood again.
Lifting my rifle, I settled it against my shoulder making myself comfortable with my feet held together and braced against the forward branch. I sighted in and adjusted my elevation. Eight clicks and I was in the zone. It took only seconds. I scanned the area. Only a few out. I sited in on one. As I did, another dropped to my right. My sniper friend at work. I fired seeing the puff appear between his shoulder blades at the base of his neck. It was enough to bring him down but I instantly gave the elevation screw two more clicks.
The vehicles must have been parked in Sam's driveway for a whole minute by now. I saw quite a few people coming out. The plan was for them to load up in Sam's car and follow ours. Oh Jesus Christ, there were way too many to all fit! There must have been close to thirty, maybe more and a shitload of kids. How in hell could I have known? Shit! Still they only had a quarter mile to run. We'd cover them. I saw quite a few of the kids pulled up into the back of Miguel’s truck and a bunch more went into my SUV, it will fit seven without crowding and at least that many children were crammed in. Two men jumped out weapons ready to make room. Sam had his car started and some were in there. They were headed back with mostly adults running between the vehicles although a few were carrying small children.
No, no, no, no, no! What the fuck? My eyes just about popped!
From almost every house along their path doors opened and zombies started running out. I say running but it wasn't quite a run, more like a really damn fast lurching walk, as I had seen at the Wesco, or maybe a lurching run. I didn't bother giving that more thought at this time. I had people that were in desperate need of cover for they were now outnumbered by at least four to one and the damn zombies just kept coming out. I started firing.
Despite the cold sweat that immediately beaded up on my scalp and started running down the back of my neck, I fired. Hit. Fired again. Another hit. I kept firing. I stayed on my side. But I never stopped firing except to load a new magazine. I was on my third now and in the groove. I wasn't missing. Christ, I saw one guy dragged down by the horde converging on them followed a woman. Fuck! Some of the kids on foot were too small to run really fast and there were too many of them for all the adults to pick them up. Miguel and Michael were driving in circles around the running group trying to run over as many of the zombies as they could. I saw some dodge as I shot them. What the hell? I saw another woman dragged down, as she did she handed what looked like a wrapped baby to the woman next to her. I won't swear to it but I'm pretty sure she dived into them, bowling at least three over. Another sacrifice. Fuck Me! I was shaking between shots. Tears streaming down my cheeks. I had to keep wiping my eyes to see clearly. I shot as fast as I could. It wasn't fast enough. I dropped all the safety protocols. I shot between our people, around our people and through our people, to hit them bastards and still they were dragging people down. I wasn't worried about ammo. Sometimes I was using two shots to take one down. Just firing as fast as I could into that deadly maelstrom of dying. Out of the corner of the scope I could see others dying. Our sniper friend at work and the armed men shooting as fast as they could pull their triggers. It was unbelievable how many of the undead there were. How in hell could there be so damn many? And they kept coming.
By now, our group had hit the main road and was turning right. They would be in my place within seconds. We had easily dropped over a hundred of the bastards but I kept shooting until I was empty. Our rescue crew had outpaced the remaining zombies who were turning to the homes closest to them. I watched as they entered the homes and actually closed the doors. I'd def think about that later. Right now, I needed a break.
I'm not ashamed to say when the last of our bunch drove and ran out of site I sat there for a few minutes and just cried. I let the tears flow. I had seen at least three men, three women, and two children lost to that ravenous horde of undead. It took me a minute to get myself together and I angrily wiped the tears from my eyes. Well. It had just gone from really bad to worse.
*****
The Reaper slumped closing his eyes and prayed to the Lord. It had been much worse than he expected. He'd never seen so many appear at once. They had somehow hidden even from him. How could that be? He could only think they must have moved in during the night when he was asleep. He'd had no warning of this. He'd been unable to warn this man Jay, his people and the others when they were ambushed by the undead. He knew eight had died. Two of them small children. He prayed for their souls that they would rest in peace. Before he ran out of ammunition, he had put a round through the head of each of the fallen heroes, children included. Just in case. Right now, he rested and prayed. His shoulder hurt like the fires of hell but he embraced the pain. Held it tightly alongside the pain in his heart from those lost before and would be lost in the future.
All his ammunition was expended. How many he reaped for the Lord he had no idea. It had been many. This other guy. Maybe Jay. He had skills also. Together they had taken down well over a hundred and twenty. He still had trouble believing how many there had been. One minute it had been mostly clear and the next there must have been three-hundred in the streets pursuing the survivors. No, ma
ybe more. He cursed himself for not having had more ammunition. The survivors had escaped onto this wooded property before the undead could catch them. He had watched the Satan's Spawn take refuge in nearby homes, escaping from the retribution he and this other man were giving them. They had done it within seconds of realizing their prey had escaped. What worried him was the refuge they had taken was closest to the wooded property. He started climbing down. He had to warn them. He was out of rounds but that didn't matter he had more in his backpack. He also had his KBAR and colt, and if the Lord decided to collect him today, the Lord would. He was okay with that. He had to talk to this Jay.
*****
Sam sat on the wooden porch and held his head in his hands, tears pouring down his cheeks. He had lost his Dorothy. The light of his life. His soul mate. Thirty-four years of bliss along with a few troubles. Never an argument they both didn't get over within minutes. Through good times and bad, they had shared it all. Never would he hold her hand at night as they lay side by side in their queen-sized bed. Many older married couples slept in separate beds or even in separate rooms but they never had. They had shared everything. He sobbed remembering the time they lost their daughter Janie to a drunk driver. She had been walking home from an after school program. Only fourteen but also the light of their lives. She had wanted to be a teacher and the school was only four blocks away. Not like across town. An easy five-minute walk and good exercise. Yet a drunk driver erased her forever from their lives. He had wanted to kill that kid. Actually, a teenager had taken her life. But he and Dorothy had made it through that together. They held each other tightly, both of them bursting into tears at odd moments when the memories became too real, vivid, and painful. Just holding each other and getting enough strength to continue. Now, Dorothy was gone to be with his little Janie. He had seen her depart this earth. Handing the baby she had been carrying as they ran, to another survivor, and then running into the creatures to slow them down. There had been nothing he could do at the time. He had been holding a two year old himself running flat out, trying to get away. He had made it, she hadn't.
Blood, Brains and Bullets Page 14