He would join them soon. Maybe today. He didn't care anymore. His tears fell to the wooden boards between his knees. Then a shadow darkened the morning sun and a hand touched his shoulder squeezing hard
"Sam. I know. I saw Dorothy give the baby to another woman and hold back as many as she could. I'm sorry. I couldn't save her. I couldn't hit enough of them fast enough." He felt warm arms wrap around him from behind. He didn't know whose but he recognized Jay's voice in front of him.
"Jay. I can't."
"Yes, you can brother. Yes, you can."
"No. Honestly, I don't want to. I want to be with them. They were my life."
"People depend on you. These people you saved."
"You saved them."
"No brother. You and Dorothy saved them. Each and every one."
"Not good enough. Thanks Jay but my Janie and Dorothy are waiting."
"Then tell them to wait awhile longer God Damn it!" He heard anger in Jay’s voice and looked up seeing tracks in the dirt coating Jay's face. "We all need you." Jay was angry.
"I'm tired. I am."
"Get un-tired. You think I'm not? Question, Mr. Give up and die old man." Jay was almost snarling and Sam sat straighter on the porch step. Others around them were backing off.
"What would Dorothy want you do?!" Jay reached out grabbing his right hand and slammed a gun in it. "If Dorothy says shoot yourself then do so now. If she says get up off your ass and help the survivors and the children who desperately need you then do that, but decide one way or the other." Jay stood and waited. The arms that had been around him, holding him unwrapped from around his shoulders and chest leaving him cold and alone.
Sam turned the gun in his hand. It was a big gun. A .45. That would do it for sure. He thought of his Dorothy and his Janie. His body shook as he remembered more good times. And he remembered his Dorothy's face as they took in survivor after survivor. The hope, contentment and confidence they could help these people. He nodded at his memory of her with a sigh and extended his hand. The one with Jay's gun.
"Take it. Dorothy would kick my ass if I gave up when children needed me."
"Exactly what I thought. Now get off your ass and get to work. Miguel can use your help getting your people settled. They’re all our people now, Sam." Jay turned away and Sam finally stood. The sun was bright and as he squinted into its brilliance, for a second he felt he could see his Dorothy and their little Janie holding hands looking down on him smiling. He smiled back nodding to them before moving off to find this Miguel. He was no longer cold and alone.
*****
Chapter 7
DAY 4: 1100 ET
I was furious at my own stupidity. Too many books read by people who didn't know shit. Too many late night ‘what if’ scenarios with Michael and other buddies over beer just having fun. Little of that had prepared me for the reality. I had let my people down. They had died. People I loved and cared for were dead. People that had trusted me to do what's right, to help them and save them. Forever gone. I had thought it would be easy. No casualties. A walk in the proverbial park. Son of a Bitch!
I had just finished speaking with Sam. To say he was feeling down was an extreme understatement. I knew Dorothy, and I could see suicide written all over Sam. Bridget helped. She had held him while I talked some sense into him. Wrapped her arms around him in comfort and caring. I think I honestly fell in love with her at that point. That selfless giving of herself.
I felt like screaming my frustration and hate. But to whom? At whom? Not God. I was quite sure at this point; we had brought this on ourselves. I slung my sniped AR over my right shoulder and Miguel handed me my shotgun. He was as shaken as I was and we briefly hugged. He had also been crying. Damn it. Bad day for the male ego. I got another hug from Rosita who also handed me a bag with more magazines scavenged from my retreat. Yeah, I might need them. I also got a zillion hugs and kisses from Bridget. I didn't need all that. I pushed her away. I needed to kill zombies. I stalked towards the front gate slapping a fresh magazine in my rifle after slinging the shotgun over my left shoulder. We had a couple of the new men and a bunch of women guarding the gate and I knew my crossbows would be up ahead. Maybe I would take down a few more silently. They were getting clever. I didn't like that thought at all.
Yeah I got to the front gate all right. No zombies in sight. What the fuck? Then I saw someone approaching. A guy. Dressed in brown with a large rifle cradled in his arms. Our friendly sniper I figured. I opened the gate and strode out to meet him.
*****
The Reaper approached the gate seeing a man step out to meet him who was carrying a scoped AR rifle in his hands and a shotgun slung over his left shoulder. This man looked mean or mad. It was hard to tell but he definitely looked dangerous. Jason's own near empty Remington was slung over his own shoulder and as he walked closer, he saw the gate had been heavily fortified but he knew that would be useless in the end.
They approached each other and stopped an arm's length apart. This man had bad written all over him Jason thought. From the set of his legs and shoulders to the expression on his face, Jason, the Reaper for the Lord, saw death written on this kindred spirit. Strong built. Looked to be in his mid 40's. Longish hair in a ponytail. He was dressed in the old style camouflage utilities woodland pattern and matching boonie hat. A black tactical vest adorned his chest and it was fully laden with magazines. Jason saw two automatics in twin shoulder holsters and another in a Velcro belly holster stuck to his vest. His eyes were medium blue, and ice cold. Jason liked what he saw. He could see the other man examining him also.
"You have problems?" Jason spoke first as the other man didn't seem inclined to.
"You think?"
"They surprised me. I had no idea they were hiding in the houses. I did the Lord’s best."
Then the man scowled and looked up, as to the heavens and sighed shaking his head.
"Me too. They're getting smarter. Name’s Jay. And I'm not a happy camper right now." He held out his hand. The Reaper took it. His grip was strong.
"Jason or the Lord’s Reaper. Whichever you prefer."
"Well, welcome Reaper and thank you for your help. We would have lost many more without it." A shadow darkened this man Jay’s face and the Reaper could see him shake it off with a struggle. Memories.
"You reaped your share. You’re taking in refugees then Jay?"
"Only if I can keep them alive and I'm not having a lot of luck in that department recently."
"You saved over thirty. I'd call that the Lord’s Will. Both luck, skill and divine providence."
"Should have been thirty-eight." This man Jay frowned and seemed to shake himself again. "We have major problems with these undead creatures. They’re adapting." He trailed off. Jason nodded.
"Aye. This I saw. You'll have to move soon. They’re hiding in the houses closest to you. I think their coming in at night because I didn't catch that. I would have warned you if I had." Jay nodded at the Reaper’s words.
"Yeah. Well come on in Reaper. I think their getting settled and I saw the girls preparing lunch. Let's eat and talk. I need a damn beer too." Jay paused. "Is the Lord’s Reaper allowed to have a beer?" For the first time since he lost his family, Jason smiled ruefully.
"Yes, he is."
"Good." Jay eyed his rifle then looked into his eyes. Jason started to describe his rifle, telling him what it was when Jay spoke up.
"Damn me. Marine Corps sniper rifle. Remington 700 right? Semper Fi Jason." Jason was impressed; he nodded and murmured a 'Semper Fi' in return. Well, what do you know? Another Marine. Jay turned and asking him to follow as he started walking slowly down the drive keeping up small talk. Obviously, still feeling him out. Jason approved. They approached a largish farmhouse and Jason saw plenty of men and women guarding a whole passel of kids playing in the front yard. Looking around he glimpsed others barely seen through the trees on perimeter duty. The more he saw the more he approved, but the location. He sighed and turned to Jay.
"Yeah Jason I know what you're going to say. Wait one." Jay motioned for one of the men and told him to get them a couple beers. The man took off like a shot and was soon running back with a couple Michelob beers in the bottle. He handed one to Jay and the other to Jason. Jason looked at it as Jay popped his open and took a sip watching him. Jason looked at the beer again then popped the cap off and took a healthy swallow. Jay smiled. "Well, now I know you're not a wuss." He said. The beer spewed from Jason's mouth as he couldn't help himself and laughed.
"Wuss Marines don't drink beer. They drink martinis." Jay said. Jason couldn't believe he was laughing. Jay lifted his beer and Jason toasted him. "Semper Fi. Lost comrades and brothers." They both murmured.
"Okay, Jason tell me. What's this mission the Lord has you on? But before you do, I know we can't stay here. I also know where I intend to take them. I just didn't think we'd have to go there this quickly." Jay’s expression was open and thoughtful without guile so Jason told him about working the late shift, coming home to a family just recently killed, burying them, and burning the house. He went on about his mission to ‘reap’ as many for Satan's fury as he could before the Lord reunited him with his family. Jay nodded throughout it.
"Come in, please, Jason before you head out and enjoy a meal with us. I think lunch is about ready. We get up early nowadays." Jay laughed ruefully. Jason responded with a, "Gladly, and thank you." Following him into the house carefully setting his rifle beside the front door where others were leaning.
Everyone was filling plates from the big dining room table and Jay beckoned him in line. A dark hair girl came up to Jay while they were in line and gave him a hug and kiss. He introduced her as Bridget and there were chuckles from some of the men and women present. Life and death had a tendency to do that. You don't forget those who died, but unless you wanted to give up and die yourself, you moved on. But you did remember, you never forget. Jay shrugged off the comments and filled a plate.
Jason soon had a plate full of BBQ beef and some green beans, cornbread and a pile of baked beans. He hadn't eaten this good since... His thoughts trailed off as he refused to remember the past. Sitting down in the living room with some of the others in the only open seat left, he started shoveling down his food. It was very good and he hadn't eaten since yesterday. A cartoon of Phineas and Ferb was playing on the large screen TV. He was well familiar with this cartoon. His... He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to remember. He felt a tiny tug on his pants at the knee. He looked up from his plate and stopped moving. The world suddenly disappeared around him and all he saw was his little Heather, with her auburn hair puffed out in mad curls like Shirley Temple and her piercing blue eyes set in a cherub face smiling at him. "Man," she said tugging on his pant leg with one hand while the other was reaching for a small piece of leftover cornbread on his plate, her tiny form clothed in a beautiful long sleeved pink dress over pink leggings. He carefully set his plate down beside him and gathered her in his arms. "Heather." He breathed, as tears coursing down his cheeks, he lifted her squealing body and held her tightly as she tried to eat the stolen cornbread she had grabbed. Remotely he heard a hiss of leather and the cold steel barrel of a gun touch the side of his head. Hard.
"Set her down carefully and slowly Jason or you're a dead man. Her name is Emma not Heather and if you hurt my daughter I promise I will keep you alive for weeks torturing you as I slowly strip all the skin off your body." The barrel of the gun pushed in harder and the hammer could be heard clicking back. The entire room had gone deathly quiet. Jay's voice sounded like the cold hiss of death. Jason carefully let ... Emma, down, his hands very gentle. Not for his sake but for hers. She smiled up at him and held her arms out again to be picked up. "Man." She said again. Jason turned to look at Jay, his face filled with agony as tears still coursed down his cheeks. "Please. May I?" He whispered as his voice shook. Jay slowly pulled his gun back from Jason's head and nodded. Jay was starting to understand.
They all watched him carefully but he played and talked too little Emma for over an hour before she got tired and fell asleep in his arms. He gently laid her down in her tiny bed upstairs at the direction of one of the women. Jay had stayed very near but never said a word except when little Emma ran to her father shouting "Da Da!" but she always came back to Jason. The two men watched the little girl sleep for a very long time. She moved slightly in her sleep, her tiny limbs quivering and she was obviously dreaming. Her eyes could be seen moving under their lids and she appeared to be talking although no sound was uttered. Finally, Jason left her even though he didn't want to. The two men stopped in the hallway outside her room. Jay looked at him and Jason looked back. Jay cleared his throat obviously working through something.
"Jason. My guess?" said Jay. Jason nodded willing to hear what this man had to say. "My guess, is little Heather is now an angel and has made friends with little Emma." Jay smiled at him patting him on the shoulder. Jason broke down and like a dam the tears flowed, his shoulders heaving as great sobs wracked his body. The two women that had followed them wrapped their arms around him as he fell to his knees and cried like a baby.
*****
DAY 4: 1145 ET
What a day. Well at least our friendly neighborhood sniper was now known and he had taken a shine to my little Emma. From hearing his story and his words, I knew he was confusing her with his granddaughter Heather. Or maybe he wasn't but something - something was there. I couldn't place it but Emma had taken to him. Normally, she was very shy around strangers. Jason appeared to be a very rare exception. This Reaper as he called himself and little Emma were now best buds.
I slowly wandered down to the front gate musing to myself. We weren't safe here, even with the addition of a couple rows of barbed wire along the front. It might hook the zombies for easier killing but we would be overrun in no time if they ever got serious about us. I now had too many people for everyone to stay in the shelter and the house wasn't safe. The word we were getting on the shortwave was ever larger bands of the things were seen moving out of the major cities and descending on the smaller towns. Like pack animals. My two-year supply of food had quickly dwindled to a two-month supply with the addition of all the newcomers. We'd have to solve that also and quickly. I had some ideas; I just needed to get them straight in my head before I started issuing orders. Right now, I just needed time to think.
A couple men and women were guarding the front gate when I got there. I had two person patrols walking all through my woods making sure no zombies had broken in. I had made it very clear each group was to stay within sight of another group. No exceptions. I had also noticed while I was with Jason and Emma we had received a few more refugees. A few men, more women and even more children. The children were becoming a problem. They were all over the place and it was getting harder to control and guard them. Every group of refugees had come with at least one child and most with many more. Sam's people seemed to be adjusting to their loss. There was no help for it. Either you adjusted or you died.
God I had to piss. Those two beers I'd drank had gone right through me. I eased around a nearby tree near the front but just out of site. No sense in scaring the natives I thought unzipping my pants and dragging the lizard out to relieve myself.
I had just finished and was shaking the last drops off the Gila monster when a stick broke behind me. Too close! I whirled instantly fisting my left holstered, .45 in my right hand, legs spread with my arms already extending to fire at whatever zombie our patrols somehow missed when I realized that the figure before me was only one of the young Mexican girls from Miguel's bunch. Her name was Cara I think. Christ that had scared the shit out of me. My nerves were shot I swear. I instantly tilted the gun up then holstered it and frowned at her. But she wasn't looking at me, or she was, but not at my face. She was staring downward at my crotch. Christ, I just realized I had forgotten to put my stuff away when the twig snapped. I had been pissing remember? Embarrassed, I stuffed myself back inside my jeans and
zipped up. It was only then that she looked up and smiled at me.
"Oh, Señor," her voice was lilting and coy; "You did not have to put it away so quickly. I was enjoying the view." A giggle escaped her.
"Jesus girl. It won't be a zombie that gets me killed it'll be the furious father of a twelve-year-old girl that does me in. What the hell are you doing sneaking up on people like that? I could have shot you!" I sputtered at her words, my discomfort growing. She was frowning at me.
"Twelve? Señor Jay do these look twelve to you?" She pulled her four sizes too big sweatshirt all the way up to her chin exposing just about the prettiest tits you ever did see and much larger than I had originally thought. Beautiful flawless brown skin a little lighter near the nipples and the nipples themselves like tiny dark cherries. My mouth instantly watered and the ole snake was stirring for sure. "I am eighteen; Señor Jay and I know what to do with that. I can take care of that very well." Her right hand had released the hem of her sweatshirt although the left was still holding it up quite well and was pointing at my crotch.
"Ahhhh. I bet you do. You sure you’re eighteen?"
"Yes, Señor Jay. You may ask Miguel or Rosita. I look young, yes, but I am old enough." She smiled. Raven haired with bright amber eyes she was absolutely stunning in this light and clean. When I had met her earlier, she had been filthy and covered in dirt and blood. Now she was clean, dressed in an extra large sweatshirt and very tight tan pants. I reached out with both hands and she leaned forward thrusting her chest out even further. Not sure my eyes could have gotten any bigger but I wasn't reaching to grab her perfect bosom, I was reaching for the hem of her sweatshirt to drag it down, which I did, to her pout.
Blood, Brains and Bullets Page 15