by David Achord
So, here is my report dearest Journal: on March 14th, a beautiful sunny day filled with bright blue skies and puffy clouds, six people died a horrible fiery death. Big Mac (Mackenzie), Tommy (Thomas), Joe (Joseph), Cami (I’ve no idea what her real name was), Chet, and Richard are the fatalities. I’m not normally a religious person, but I hope they’re all in heaven now. - Andie
Chapter 27 – Round Two
We still needed fuel, and even though deep down we knew there would be nothing left, we had to see for ourselves. It took us two weeks before we worked up the motivation to go back to Cockril Bend. On the day we geared up to head out, Andie begged off and instead volunteered to babysit.
The morning was cool, with overcast skies of a dull gray. A soft drizzle of rain reflected our mood. We travelled slowly, cautiously, and stopped on Briley before the bridge crossing over Centennial. We had a bird’s eye view of the area, but there wasn’t very much left to look at. The entire area was burnt to a blackened crisp.
“After the tanker blew we took off. It was a massive explosion when the reservoir blew,” Terry said to Julie and me. “We were about a half mile away when it happened and the shock wave damned near flipped the truck over.”
Nobody else had anything to add. I looked around with the binoculars. The epicenter of the blast was obvious, and the destruction extended outward in a rough, angry circle. Everything within was obliterated and black. I shook my head sadly and handed the binoculars to Fred.
“Aren’t we going down there?” Julie asked.
“We can, but it would be futile,” I said. “There’s nothing left,” I looked at her for emphasis, “nothing.”
Julie grabbed the binoculars out of Fred’s hands and looked the area over for several minutes. Fred walked away from the group and stood by his truck silently.
“So, what do we do now?” she finally asked.
“We go to the downtown reservoir,” I responded. “Hopefully, it’s still intact and not overrun.”
After a brief debate, it was agreed Fred and I would perform the fueling operation while everyone else stayed a safe distance away. I convinced Julie this was the best course of action and promised her we’d abort if we encountered any problems, no matter how small. Everyone piled into the van except for Fred, who insisted on driving alone. He led the way in his truck.
We slowly drove the entire length of the Victory Memorial Bridge looking for anything which might indicate the bridge had structural damage. Seeing nothing that might spell our demise, we parked on the top of the bridge. I got in the truck with Fred and the two of us drove down to the reservoir premises without comment. Luckily, there was only one lone zombie aimlessly roaming around the lot. It appeared to have been a construction worker at one time. He was wearing one of those insulated coveralls, a heavy canvas jacket and even a hardhat. I was going to shoot him, but as soon as I stopped the truck, Fred jumped out, grabbed a four foot long piece of lumber lying on the ground and took off running toward it before I could say anything. I watched as he angrily pummeled the thing until its head was a pulpy mush.
“All clear here,” I hurriedly said on my portable before anyone who was watching got excited. I waited for Fred to walk back to the truck.
“Do you feel better?” I asked him.
He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he grabbed some tools and walked toward the pumps. Seeing no other threats, I grabbed a grounding rod and went to work. It took us almost forty-five minutes to fill the 500 gallon tanker, mostly in silence. After finishing, we drove up on the bridge to the waiting crew. Fred told me to hop in the van, effectively kicking me out of the truck, and we began the tedious journey home. The roads would be perfect for a stretch and then all of a sudden we’d run up on potholes from hell. I drove carefully, but it didn’t stop Julie from chiding me.
Since the tragic accident we had all been going through the motions of our daily routines without much communication. Fred, who of course was stoic by nature, became even more withdrawn. We’d go for days without seeing him.
“We’re going to have to learn how to plow with horses,” I commented in an attempt to break the silence. “Maybe we can find some mules that are still alive. Mules are supposed to be able to pull a plow better than horses.”
I looked over at Terry. He stared absently out of the passenger window. “You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over it.”
He jerked his head around and gave me a harsh stare. “It was my fault, Zach. I should have spotted the problem with the road,” he looked back out of the window before adding quietly, “you would have.”
“I don’t know about that,” I responded. I caught a glance from Julie in the rearview mirror. When she saw me looking, she turned her head and stared out of her window. I never said it, but when told what happened on that fateful day, it was one of the first things I thought about. I mean, you’re about to drive a fully laden tanker truck over a roadway that had not been maintained in over two years. They saw the potholes, yet they didn’t give the on-ramp a closer inspection. There were several times in the ensuing days I wanted to jump up and scream, why? But, I kept my opinions to myself. What had been done was done.
“Fred won’t talk to me,” Terry said after a moment.
“He’s not talking to anybody,” Rowdy said.
“He’s blaming himself as much as you are,” I added.
“So, what do you suggest?”
“I don’t know, bro. We were all close, and Chet was beginning to grow on me. I really didn’t know those other two very well.”
“Rich said he was prior Army,” Terry said, “he was an MP.”
I nodded quietly and slowly swerved around another large pothole. “How much have you talked with the rest of Chet’s group?” I asked. Terry shrugged.
“I’ve probably talked to them the most,” Rowdy said. “Y’all know I can get along with anyone, but the ones who’re still living are a little bit on the asshole side. They make little snide remarks all of the time. I think they’re envious of us, but they don’t want to do what it takes to improve their disposition,” he said with a snort. “Penny’s moved in with Bo, did y’all know that?”
“I’d heard.”
“Damn,” Terry said, “he’s old enough to be her dad.”
“How old is she?” I asked curiously.
“Twenty-three.”
“Wow, she looks a lot older,” I said with a shrug. “It’s a different world now. They seem to get along, so whatever works.”
Terry sighed. “I wish I knew what worked for me.”
“Yeah,” Julie added, “you lust after anything with a vagina.”
Rowdy chuckled. Terry wiped his face and then threw his hands up in the air in agreement.
“So, what is happening with your love life?” I asked.
“Not much,” Terry replied.“After Kelly and I started messing around, she wanted us to find a place of our own. Of course, after I’d made the conquest, I wasn’t attracted to her anymore. I’m not sure in what category to place Andie. Don’t get me wrong, I really like her, but I still find myself lusting after other women.”
“Did you ever hook up with Carla?” Julie asked. Terry looked at her like she’d brought up an unpleasant memory.
“Let me tell you what that bitch did. She led me on and led me on, and then when I made a pass at her, she acted all offended and couldn’t wait to tell her husband.”
Julie chortled. “She wanted to see if she had the power to seduce you.”
“Yeah, I guess. The thing of it is, now I want her worse than ever.”
I laughed then. Terry merely sighed. “I’m fucked up when it comes to women. You’ve got a good thing with Julie. I don’t know how you focus all of your emotions on her and nobody else.”
I kept quiet. The truth of the matter, I did find myself thinking of other women. It didn’t happen often, but it happened. When I talked it over with Fred, he surprised me when he admitted the same thing. He told me as long as I didn’
t act on it I was fine, but it still worried me and I damn sure didn’t say anything about it to Julie. Terry pointed as we approached the Thompson and Nolensville intersection.
“This is where the soldiers got overrun by the zombies and you got shot, right?” Terry asked. I nodded. “Whatever happened with the soldier’s weapons?”
“We weren’t able to come back here for a couple of weeks,” Julie said. “When we did, all the weapons were gone. The soldiers were stripped clean.”
“We figured the Captain’s gang took them, but Andie said no,” I said. “We’ve never determined who got them.”
Terry nodded in understanding. We passed through the stack of cars at the intersection slowly. None of them had been moved, which was a good sign. I spotted a skull and a few more bones, but most had probably been drug off by scavengers. It was a solemn spot, but today it wasn’t totally bereft of activity.
“I count six,” Terry said. I didn’t slow down, but instead pointed at the radio.
“Tell Fred. He’ll take care of them.”
I heard gunfire before Terry even had a chance to grab the microphone. Terry looked back over his shoulder and watched as Fred shot them all through the open window of his truck. “I guess Fred needed to let off a little tension too,” he observed.
The friends of the late Chet Henry were waiting at the school when we arrived. They were sullen looking, unfriendly. There were no handshakes offered when we exited our vehicles.
“We’re going to need at least a hundred gallons,” one of them said as I began filling a five gallon container. I looked up at them.
“Well, folks, that’s a mighty big order. What do you have to trade for it?”
Johnny scoffed. “There you go with that barter bullshit again. Y’all owe us at least that much after you got our people killed.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of them, but before I could answer, Fred walked over and decked Johnny with a right cross.
“What the fuck old man?” Johnny blurted while holding his nose. The other ones started toward Fred. He turned and squared off, both hands near his pistols. Everyone stopped in their tracks. I think even the birds stopped chirping. It was deathly quiet. Fred stared at Chet’s group coldly.
“What are you waiting on?” he demanded. “Grab your guns and start shooting. I’ll probably only kill a few of you before you get me.”
To say I was startled was an understatement. Hell, all of us were dumbfounded. Fred had always been the cool, calm, collected one, and I was the hothead. I held a hand up.
“Alright, everyone, take it easy,” I said and looked at Johnny, who was glaring at Fred as blood poured from his nose. “For your information, we lost three people we care about very much, including two kids who Fred thought of as his own sons.”
Johnny got to his feet. “Yeah, well we lost three good friends too, and it was y’all’s fault.”
“How do you figure, Johnny?” I asked. “Tell us all how it was our fault.”
He squeezed his nose before answering, making his tone nasally. “They’d still be alive if you hadn’t have invited them to go along.”
“True, and your nose wouldn’t be broken if you hadn’t made such a stupid statement. They didn’t have to go, Johnny. They went because they wanted to. They wanted to help out and they wanted fuel.”
Rowdy stepped forward. “We’ve all lost people we care about and love. I pray it doesn’t happen again, but it probably will. Life is difficult these days.”
Everyone seemed to calm down a little then, but Johnny pointed at Fred. “He had no call to hit me.”
I looked over at Fred. He was whipcord tight and his face was hard. After a tense moment of silence he glanced at me. I knew him well enough to see the pain in his eyes. Without saying anything, he walked to his truck and drove away.
I found him later at his farm, chopping wood. He was stripped down to his waist, revealing a lean physique of sinewy muscle. Unlike Chet, Fred was splitting the logs with one blow, the chunks of wood flying away in angry protest. As I waited for him to take a break, I looked around and saw a two foot long rat snake sunning itself on the steps to his house. Fred saw me looking.
“That’s rat boy. The boys found him one day when he was small and kind of adopted him. They’d catch field mice and feed him. He’s probably wondering where they are.”
“Yeah, probably,” I paused and gave him a long, quizzical stare. “How’re you doing?” I asked tentatively. Fred gripped the axe tightly before answering.
“Well, that’s the question of the day, isn’t it? Let’s see, how am I doing? All I’ve been doing lately is thinking of people dying. Everyone dies, right, Zach?” he asked rhetorically and readied another log. I watched as he split it with seeming ease.
“My family, Rick, Mac, Macie, Tommy, Joe, everyone dies, right?” he asked again, and with that, he hurled the axe, which embedded itself deep into an old gnarly oak tree. He stared at it a moment before pulling a bandanna out of his back pocket and wiping the sweat off of his face.
“What did you do with that crew?” he asked.
“Chet’s crew?” I asked, and then shrugged. “I gave them gas. We used the tanks on their RVs as storage tanks.”
Fred gave me one of those stares he did when he was displeased. “I wanted to make a friendly gesture,” I explained, “especially after you broke Johnny’s nose.”
“How much?” he asked.
“About a hundred gallons,” I responded evenly. He continued staring at me a long moment. I thought he was about to chastise me, or tell me I was a fool. Instead, he changed the subject.
“How is Julie doing?”
I looked at the axe and then out into the distance. “She’s not doing very well. She puts on a good front, but she cries herself to sleep almost every night, and there’s something else,” I added. Fred was putting his shirt back on but paused and looked at me expectantly. “She asked to let her mother move in. I agreed.”
Fred said nothing. We both knew why I did it, I did it for Julie.
Chapter 28 – Blame
Breakfasts were awkward these days. If something was said the wrong way, Julie would start crying and go to our bedroom. Janet used it as a way of reinserting herself into Julie’s life. She would rush after her and tell her everything was okay while holding her in her arms. It bothered the shit out of me. Maybe I was jealous. I assumed Julie would rather seek comfort in my arms, and I was angry when she chose her mom over me. Normally, I would have understood, but it was Janet, and Janet was not the All-American mother.
It got to the point where I’d get up early every day, fix my own breakfast, and then spend the rest of the day away from the house. This was my routine for almost two weeks now. The deaths of our loved ones had acted as a negative catalyst, which undermined the group dynamic we had tried so hard to cultivate. We interacted with each other only when we had to. Even then our conversations were short.
It was on one particular cloudy day in mid-April when things finally came to a head. Konya, Bo and I were on horseback, rounding up stray cattle. We were slowly but steadily moving twenty head down Kidd Road and were within sight of Nolensville Pike when we saw them.
“Looks like there’re only four of them,” I said. Konya’s dogs started growling and he went for his rifle, as did I. Bo started moving his horse forward but Konya stopped him.
“Hold up!” he shouted as he aimed his rifle toward a dilapidated barn on the edge of the roadway. I watched in confusion as the group of zombies at the intersection started moving toward us. Their gait was slower than a healthy human, but definitely faster than any I had previously seen before. The one in the lead closed in and started panicking the cattle. I took quick aim and shot it. The gunshot caused a full panic now and they ran forward, knocking over the three remaining zombies in the process. Konya pointed vigorously.
“No, watch the barn!” he shouted in warning. It was then I saw them. A dozen of them poured out of the barn. It
was a very clever move. The bastards waited for the cattle to pass by, therefore having a straight shot at us.
We began firing quickly. Unfortunately, the staccato of gunfire caused my horse to panic and rear up. It caught me by surprise and I fought to stay on, but it was no use. I went head over heels and landed firmly on my ass. They were on me quickly. I had the wind knocked out of me, but I still managed to get on my feet and butt stroked the nearest one. Her skull split open with a resounding crack. I desperately tried to suck in air as I shot twice more, hitting my mark on one of them and missing completely on the third shot.
The one I missed was now inches from me and I was getting a good close-up of him. Any hair he might have had was long gone. Now his entire head was covered in scabs and scars. He eyed me malevolently with his black eyes as I struggled backwards. I was seeing stars from the lack of oxygen and my legs were threatening to collapse on me at any moment. I fired again, striking him in the throat. He lunged forward and grabbed the barrel of my rifle, jerking it violently, causing my legs finally to give out. I fell on my ass again, and would have been a goner, but Number Two appeared from nowhere, lunged onto my adversary and bit down on its arm so hard I could hear the bones break. It was enough for the thing’s grip to weaken. Jerking my rifle back out of his grasp, I concentrated on my aim and shot him right under the nose. The kinetic energy of the 5.56 caliber bullet blew out the back of his head with a fine spray of brain matter and black mist.
I was finally able to suck in a breath of air, which cleared up the cobwebs a little, and looked around as Number Two barked at me anxiously. I forced myself to inhale again, got into a sitting position, and looked for a target. Konya had dismounted and was surrounded by four of them. He and I shot simultaneously and two of them went down. I made quick work of the third one, but the fourth one was too close to Konya for me to shoot. It was able to grab Konya, and the two of them went to the ground. I looked at Number Two and pointed.