Three Days From Home

by William Baxter

  “Homefront, Thumper215 with you. How copy?” he released the PTT switch and waited. It didn’t take long before the speaker crackled for a second and then “Dad! Holy shit! Where are you?” Jessie asked.

  “Remember the castle house on highway 11?” he asked.

  “Nice. Are you okay? Mom’s asleep, but I can go wake her.”

  “No, she’s had a rough few days, let her sleep. What’s going on?” Brad asked.

  “Tanith and Walt are at the mouth of the Hiwassee in a boat, they’ll head in tomorrow and we’ll meet them there.” Jessie answered.

  “Careful about giving locations, kiddo. What’s your plan?” he asked.

  “Horses is all we could come up with.” Jessie answered.

  “Nope. A tractor would be quicker. Is Dillon up?” he asked.

  “Right here, Pops. Good to hear you.” Dillon said.

  “Wipe that snot-sucking grin off your face and pay attention, son. The tractor is missing some parts that I took off to keep it from being stolen. It looks like shit, but it’ll run. Behind the barn is an old hay wagon. The tires are gonna need airing up, but the compressor in the barn should work fine.” Brad said.

  “Okay, I can do that. What about the compressor noise?” Dillon asked.

  “Run the compressor in the barn with the doors shut. As soon as the tank is full, shut it off and don’t do anything for a little bit. This should let the crazies become disinterested in anything they hear. Hopefully.” Brad added.

  “Okay, but what about you?” Dillon asked.

  “Just don’t worry about me. Get Tanith and Walt. We’ll worry about me later. Besides, Jess knows where I am.” Brad said.

  “But are you okay?” Dillon asked.

  “Just hanging with some buds and looking for a six-pack.” Brad answered.

  Brad signed off before anyone could get a fix on them, if there was anyone trying, which he doubted. Still, better safe than sorry. He powered down the radio to save the batteries and went to make a set of outside rounds, just to make sure the crazies weren’t up to something devious.

  Chesty was first on his list and he found the horse sleeping peacefully in the yard, something he didn’t believe he was seeing until he got close and the horse stirred. He petted the big guys neck before moving off to the fence line. The NVG’s were a huge help in that he didn’t see or hear anyone on the far side of the house.

  Quietly making his way around the four walls, he discovered much of the same. He also discovered that the crazies couldn’t see for shit, at least not at night. He walked right past the gate with only one crazy looking around and sniffing. Evidently the disease hadn’t made any improvements on the human sense of smell, because it acted confused and never really located him. He smiled knowing that knowledge was a weapon in itself and made his way quietly back into the big house.

  The watch crew of about twenty crazies never left the gate. That was how Brad perceived them. Their job was to scream if he attempted to leave. He didn’t know this for sure, but it felt right. That meant he’d either have to lure them away, somehow, or kill them all before they could alert the what he envisioned as roaming bands, in the area. What he observed was that with one yell, they could call in for reinforcements, who would literally come running. That was something he didn’t want to do. He silently wished for a bow and a fistful of arrows. One day, he figured, he’d have his shit totally covered. Unfortunately, that wasn’t today.

  He went around to Chesty, guiding him back to the garage, where he’d stashed the tack and began saddling the horse. Chesty didn’t seem to mind at all. That done he’d gone back into the house and collected his gear, intent on getting as far away from the death trap as quickly as possible.

  Going back to the gate, he drew his pistol, screwed on the sound suppressor and began shooting the crazies in the head as quickly as he could. He’d just dropped the first eight when one near the back threw back his head and screamed for all he was worth.

  “Shit.” Brad muttered. This was bound to draw attention. He quickly finished the gate guard off and went to get Chesty. Mounting up quickly, he rode the bid Chestnut to the gate and was just starting to slide the gate open when he heard one of them scream and looked up to see a horde of them running full force at the gate.

  “Shit, again.” Brad muttered as he re-secured the gate and took Chesty around back, hoping that with them out of sight, the crazies would soon forget. What he hadn’t expected was the size and force of those the watch had called. Numbering almost one thousand, the horde of crazies stormed the gate. Brad heard the clang as the main body hit the gate with a large force. Suddenly he heard the sound of snapping steel as the gate gave way under to sudden pressure.

  “Double shit.” He muttered as he kicked Chesty in the flanks. It was do or die time.

  The End

  William Baxter is a former Navy Corpsman and was assigned to the 3rd Marine Division, a plank owner of the USS Emory S. Land (AS-39) among other duties during his nine plus year tenure. Since then he has worked in various radio and TV stations, is a pilot, and currently lives with his wife, just a short drive from the East Tennessee Appalachians.